Atlantic Rim // One-on-One // Closed

"You try and I'll punch you in the face," he said, squinting his eyes at her.

"I can take a punch, thank you." She wrinkled her nose, sticking her tongue out at him. "C'mon, let me paint your nails. I promise not to use glitter."

He shook his head. "Not a chance in hell, hotshot."

"So rude." She huffed, faking a grumpy pout for good measure.

"No amount of pouting will get you want you want," he said, shaking his head.

"You're no fun, y'know that? C'mon cap, I bet Al would let me do his nails." She released him, placing her hands on her hips to look around.

"Currently, Al has a big ass dent in the front of his Wi-Fi router," Duncan said, patting the convex curve with his right hand.

"Nothin' makeup can't fix." Cassie quipped, studying the dent. "I want to stab a Kaiju. Just…stab 'em."

"Good luck with that," he said, rolling his eyes. "You'd be dead before you got anywhere close."

"Wouldn' stop me from tryin'." She said, sticking her tongue out at him. "I could just build a giant shiv. Big ol' stabby utensil."

"And carry it with your scrawny arms?" he asked, a grin growing on his face.

"My arms are not scrawny." She gasped, looking dramatically offended. "Just because you could bench press me, doesn't make me scrawny."

"You are most definitely scrawny," he said.
The sound of the steel cables attaching to the shoulders of Alabama 11 interrupted anything else he planned on saying as they were lifted into the air, rocking slightly from the wind.
"The clean-up clue has arrived," he mumbled to himself, sitting down on the floor.

"I'm not scrawny." She grumbled, flopping to the ground and laying an arm over her eyes. "We're headin' hooooome. Gonna get a snack."

"Get some meat on your bones," he teased, slapping her arm playfully.

((My little siblings were absolutely convinced that there was someone in our house(y'know, despite the two dogs we have that flip their shit when our neighbors even go into their yards), and sent me to go search both the laundry room and our parent's bedroom for the source of some knock-like sounds, and get this. It was our dog. Dropping a large bone on the porch because he's weak af.))

"I hate you." She kicked vaguely in his direction, lips pulled into a pout.

"No you don't." He caught the leg before it could reach his side. "You forget, we go into each other's mind every other week."

"Sadly, I don't forget." She wrinkled her nose, wiggling her leg without much force. "It's so weird, having someone else just in my head. Never gonna get any less weird."

"You get used to it after a while," he said, letting her leg fall back to the floor. "It just takes time."

"I can't have any secrets." She continued her complaints, obviously not too upset. "How am I supposed to keep my air of mystery?"

"Technically, it's only me that knows," he pointed out, rolling his eyes at her complaints.

"Loose ends." She said simply, removing her arm from her eyes to squint over at him. "No spilling my secrets."

"I don't get why you have to say that every time we have this conversation. The answer is 'K' every time." He squinted over at her.

"I'm allowed to be paranoid." She huffed, although she did seem relieved with the reassurance.

"I figured us fighting to the death regularly would be enough of an assurance," he said, scrunching his nose up in response.

"I don't appreciate your logic and reasoning. Take your facts elsewhere." She nudged him with her foot.

He pushed back in response. "Someone has to be right all the time. I will gladly shoulder the burden."

"Oh, whatever." She rolled her eyes, tapping out a beat with her hands. ""Not all of us can just know things."

"If you put as much effort into learning as you did fighting, you'd be a fucking genius," he pointed out, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes.

"Never had a reason to, and I still don't." She shot back, curling into a ball, before uncurling, like she couldn't quite figure out what to do.