It didn't hurt, but Scipio let go to carry on with the demonstration. "There you go. Now, if you were really in a situation like that, you'd want to kick a lot harder. If all else fails, always go for the neck."
Oh, It's You Again // O/O // Closed
He nodded. “I didn’t…didn’t want to kick you that hard, though.”
"Yeah, I'm aware. But again, go for the neck if all else fails. Punch them in the neck, bite them, kick them if you're in an ideal position… people are quite useless and rendered incapable of fighting if you break their neck."
Bridge hummed a little in agreement, pressing his lips together.
"Have you ever even punched somebody before?" Scipio asked, looking down at Bridge.
He looked down again. “I tried to punch my dad once. It didn’t work.”
"What did he do?" Scipio sat down on the metal bench again. God, pretending to care about people's lives is exhausting…
“He punched me harder. And tried to choke me.”
Nice. "That sucks." Scipio said, trying to feign sympathy. It wasn't something he'd attempted in a while. "I didn't really know my parents."
“Oh. Why…why not?” Bridge asked, not meaning to pry, but merely curious.
"Well, we lived in the same house until I left at sixteen of course, but we never interacted. It was rather like living with two strangers who you always avoid. We hardly spoke, if at all, honestly, and they didn't give a shit about anything I did."
“Oh.” He nodded. “That’s how my dad acted around - me. He wanted to pretend we weren’t related at all. Which…was understandable. But…when he couldn’t ignore me, he would yell - - at me, and when that didn’t work he hit me.”
Scipio nodded. "If you were going to ask if that's why I'm a psychopath, the answer is no. People are born psychopaths, not made. Opposite of villains. I don't remember much of my childhood, but I believe my father would sometimes hit me as well."
“I didn’t like him.” Bridge muttered to himself quietly.
"Go figures. Typically people aren't very fond of abusive people."
Bridge only nodded. “My mom was nice to me, though. At least I think she was. Nicer than my dad, anyway.”
"Is it normal that I don't actually remember what my parents look like?" Scipio stared blankly at the wall.
Bridge considered for a bit, eventually shaking his head. “No. I don’t remember what my mother looks like either.”
"Mm… I wonder if I have siblings? Do you?"
He shook his head. “I didn’t have any. If I did, I would’ve been…the youngest.”
"I think we had a cat at some point, but I'm pretty sure I killed it. Sounds like something I'd do." Scipio drummed his fingers upon the bench.
Bridge pressed his lips together again, sending the blanket of silence settling over them, and…sometime else he hadn’t felt in a while. He was getting touch-starved again. For the past week he’d always been in close confinement or had someone touching him, but now he was just in the cold, dark cell with Scipio. He had touched him, but now that the feeling was gone, Bridge felt cold again.
"We should probably sleep. Dunno for sure, but it feels late. There's another bench there if you want it." Scipio gestured to a metal bench adjacent to the one he was on before laying down.
Bridge hastily agreed and walked over to the bench, lying down on it. At least now there was something against his back, but still.
(Bridge is totally gonna try and cuddle when Scipio's asleep lol)
Scipio fell asleep fairly quickly since he was used to the cold metal. Here, you had to get used to it or you'd never get any sleep.
(Should he though like will Scipio get mad)
(Nah Scipio would be confused but he would allow it because Bridge is scared and new)
(Alright cool)
Sighing to himself, Bridge’s eyes flicked up across the room to Scipio. The bench was big enough for the two of them, and he couldn’t lie on this bench alone all night.
Scipio was asleep by now, and looked considerably less intimidating than usual. He looked peaceful, almost. Like he hadn't killed dozens of people.
He didn’t look like he was going to kill Bridge, so he took a careful step up and made his way across the room, eventually lying down on the bench next to Scipio. That was much better. He was warm and somewhat familiar, and was better than a lonesome bench in any way.