Gus Gungus
One Thousand Club
Watts leered at her for a moment before he glanced over to where Mercury and Emerald were still arguing over the material and metaphorical worth of a happy meal toy before he gave a rigid nod.
"Yes. That one."
It stood to reason that the two in question, being the son of a prominent contract killer and a pickpocket of some experience, respectively, knew how to spot a nerdy Atlesian kid when he stole a furtive glance at them across a MicDynlod's floor. Back in her day Emerald would've called that kid 'tomorrow's dinner', and in the early days of Beacon Mercury's chosen moniker would've been 'lunch money'. Not like there was anyone left coughing up the lien for his 12 o'clock juicebox, and old man Marcus sure as hell never coughed up where he stashed all his lien before he torched that place to the ground and never looked back. As if he'd ever even give him that much.
It wasn't clear which of them made him first, just that if any follow-up glance went their way it was immediately obvious that both had turned and sort of just started looking at him while they talked, lips impossible to read at this range. What was clear was that whatever they were discussing now held far greater significance in their minds than the yo-yo Mercury now idly tossed down and yanked back up into his palm, and clearer still from the precise direction their gazes kept pivoting towards was the fact that whatever the conversation had turned to had less to do with Watts himself and far more with the other occupant of his table.
They faced each other for the last few segments of the exchange, and while the resigned nods they left it on suggested a mutual accord it couldn't have been more obvious that both of them were less than happy about it, the tone of the conversation drifting dangerously close to an argument at times. Mercury scowled, tossed one last comment at his Beacon partner and punctuated it by jerking his head towards the table, that customary brooding Black expression already settling over his features as he turned without further remark and made for the exit to eat alone. Emerald was left looking downcast, one hand rubbing her elbow for a second before she banished whatever her own clear reservations were and made her way over.
"So we gonna go get this stupid stick?"
Last edited: