Evening Festivities [Tino/Arthur]

[Tino Väinämöinen]

If I told you what I was,

Would you turn your back on me?

New Year’s Eve, also known as December 31, the last day of the calendar year. It was traditionally a time of merriment and celebration across the globe. It was always promised with great cakes, cookies, platters of every kind of food, alcohol, fireworks, and general cheerfulness to celebrate the coming of the New Year. It was all rather festive and commercialized, but at least in a positive social kind of way. People would vow change and new ways, as if a single day made a major difference in their lives.

...What a load of bologna.

Tino sat in his chair, planted half down the hall of cells as he glared at the door the lead to the corridor that ended with the staff room, where every other employee was situated this evening. Perhaps Tino was just sour because they decided that he should be the only one actually carrying out his job on this holiday. After all, anyone who was actually scheduled tonight was unlucky, so they decided to host their own party. Idiots. Did they not think this would be the day to stage a coup, when they were all incapable of merely walking in a straight line, nevertheless actually containing anything? Tino pursed his lips and let out a sigh, sinking back into his chair. He didn’t even get to sample any of the dainties. Damn.

Boredom was dominating Tino’s mind tonight as well. He never actually did anything on the traditional holiday, aside from smoke a cigarette and watch the fireworks from a rooftop, but he still felt left out from the food and alcohol that everyone else was indulging in. He reminded himself that he’d receive no pity in such halls; most mutants probably hadn’t experienced much of the festivities, nor would they tonight. Such was life, and Tino dismissed the thought as he stood and stretched. He’d take a walk up and down the hall before he resumed his position to stare annoyingly at the entry door.

Walking with a quiet pitter patter sort of stride, Tino smiled and offered small greetings to anyone who was still awake. Although mutants were unable to see the sun or clocks, their meals were scheduled during the day, as were most of the guards. The nighttime shift definitely encouraged sleeping, though it didn’t matter much as they was nothing to do in these halls. If he felt bored, he couldn’t imagine being locked in one of these cells without an end in sight. However… occasionally he wished he had just been born with a mutation and taken from his home before anything had happened. Ignorance would have been blissful, even if it meant imprisonment for life (actually, Tino could laugh at that because it was what he rightfully deserved). However, thinking such thoughts was useless; the past couldn’t be changed, only reflected upon. Tino continued his walk.

Quiet ‘Hullos!’ and general ‘How’re yous?’ were exchanged as Tino reached the end of the hall. Not too many were awake tonight, or they were just curled up away from the bars and didn’t respond to him. Many knew Tino at this point as one of the less aggressive staff, and he seemed to genuinely care and be friendly as opposed to coldblooded like his other coworkers. Little did they know that Tino was ruthless and without remorse, but he never revealed that side of himself to anyone or anything. All in due time, when the Freedom Fighters made their move. Until then, Tino continued his convincing façade, and he was winning most mutants over without attractive too much attention of the other guards. They eventually mellowed out, accepting that Tino was gutless, but a hard-worker who did tasks that they were too lazy or unwilling to carry out. It all balanced out fine and dandy.

Tino was just about to start to meander back when he saw green eyes glint in the dim light of one of the cells. He offered a friendly smile. He roughly knew Arthur by this point, only through handing out meals and by general passing, but he was a mutant that peaked Tino’s interest as soon as he documented him into his profiling collection.

‘Kirkland, Arthur. Age 22. Mutation: Necromancer; able to summon spirits from leftover organic matter of the original host. Entities comply with his command and perform operations requested of the mutant master. Spirits able to pass through objects, but become tangible upon will. Combat: Avoid entities while targeting the necromancer. Short range hand-to-hand combat, taser to render unconscious. It is unknown whether the spirits will press on if no longer consciously linked to mutant leader. Hazard rating: Highly Dangerous in Underground, reduced hazards in above ground or remote locations.’

Arthur Kirkland was known as the mutant who could speak with the dead, and that was something that pricked Tino’s interest in a way it shouldn’t have. He approached the cell and dragged over one of the stationed chairs and positioned it between Arthur’s cell and the cell flanking it. He sat down, positioned as he was instructed by his superiors before he began a quiet conversation that hopefully shouldn’t have roused the others that were in slumber.

“Want some company tonight, Arthur? It’s quiet in the halls and will be for the next day.”

And if I seem dangerous,

Would you be scared?

tags: Tin-Tin and Artie, words: 883, notes:We gonna party like it’s 1999
Coded by: PerfectFallacy of Gangnam Style

[Arthur W. Kirkland]

☒ Tino Väinämöinen ✐ 875 ✉ finally up! MADE BY MEULK OF GS

Today was a celebration, a seeming cause for some of the guards' contented moods, matched with with fewer punishments being doled out and fewer incidents in light of their definition of festivity—probably more so for the excuse to drink as opposed to the expectation of the New Year. Most of the mutants housed within the cells treated it as any other day, some of them hardly even offering a wandering glance to the few remaining guards on duty, some of them struggling to ignore the fact that the guards were enjoying food and drink in the same area, more or less. The only ‘delicacy’ that tempted Arthur’s palate was the liquor. He wouldn’t mind the dry warmth of a cigarette either, another sorely missed habit that he had occasionally indulged in at Weeds, covertly passed between hands and indulged in the dead corners of the property or in other furtive places. Pleasure in any form was hard to come by at the academy. At the moment, Arthur could only sit quietly in his cell, alone for yet another evening after the most recent reordering of cellmates. He could hear the faint reverberations of the guards holding their own celebration for the event, and for the moment, he was only able to recall past pleasantries to make the silence in his own cell somewhat tolerable. He sat at the edge of what they called beds, his back against the hardness of the wall. He’d been sitting there for so long, his shoulder blades could no longer feel the rigidity of the cold concrete. The numbness had seeped into his skin, past his thin shirt. He wondered how long it would be for him to finally find sleep, though he knew that it would probably elude him for a while yet tonight. The back of his skull pressed gently against the wall, the slight tangle of blond hair resting against his forehead. He tilted his head to cast a languid glance toward the bars of his cell, picking up on the soft, rhythmic sound of footsteps. It was nothing novel; they sounded like they belonged to yet another guard making his rounds. The longer he waited for the figure to come into his line of sight, the more he could make out the features of a somewhat familiar guard—Tino. He was as mild mannered as they seemed to come in the Underground, not usually the one to dole out punishments whenever the mutants misbehaved. While Arthur didn’t usually harbour strong opinions of the undifferentiated guards who lacked a harsh hand, Tino had yet to give him a reason to dislike him. Though, of course, in Arthur’s mind, there was always room for more antipathy should the disappointment present itself. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder about the undefined man at times. In Arthur’s experience, there have been odd occurrences where summoned entities within visual distance would change in their demeanor around certain people; some seemed far too attracted to those who’ve already witnessed or caused a substantial amount of misery and death in their lives. A few entities in particular seemed almost smug whether in amusement or expectation, as if guarding a convoluted secret, as they were wont to do. Whatever the case, Arthur didn’t pay it anymore heed than was necessary. Everyone harboured their secrets and had a right to the privacy of their past and thoughts. He wasn’t intent on discovering them unless it somehow directly involved him. Generally, Arthur thought it pointless to learn things usually better left with the individuals. When Tino smiled at him, Arthur couldn’t gather enough motivation to offer one back. There certainly wasn’t much to smile about. The motion felt dishonest. He did; however, focus his attention on Tino when the man slowed alongside his cell. A moment later, he actually approached it, dragging a chair to make himself comfortable. Confusion settled over Arthur’s brow, though the suspicion was stronger in his gaze. Was he about to be questioned? Such things weren’t unheard of, though it was uncommon enough, as the guards rarely ever needed information from captive Underground mutants, particularly ones like him who had never even been outside since admittance from Weeds. Arthur paused after Tino’s question, waiting to see if he would either immediately start asking him something a little more direct, giving away the real purpose for his visit, or to simply realise his temporary lapse in poor judgment with choosing a mutant for company and take his leave. But no, he remained seated. ”I wouldn’t mind it,” was Arthur’s quiet answer, also mindful of the others sleeping nearby. His words held more truth than he cared to realise; loneliness at the right level could be as strong a motivator as pain. He shifted his body, adjusting so that he was more contentedly facing the bars of his cell, distrustful eyes meeting Tino’s. ”Pardon me for being so blunt, but what possessed you to want my company?” A brief, cynical smile formed. ”Not many guards are willing to linger wherever I happen to be locked away, let alone speak to me unless duty calls.” Whatever the man’s motivation, he wasn’t about to turn down the offer, but the rarity of it caused his curiosity to flare.

[Tino Väinämöinen]

If I told you what I was,

Would you turn your back on me?

Suspicion. There was always suspicion in their eyes, and Arthur Kirkland did little to hide it. In fact, he clearly expressed confusion and potential wariness. Tino couldn't blame the mutant; they all had their reasons for hating humans. How could Tino expect to be an exception? At least, they would hate him at first. With time, that sharp hatred would smooth over, like a river polishing pebbles to a even stone. That wouldn’t be without time and great effort though. Most would resist, some would be won over easier than others. Tino expected Arthur to be one of the more difficult ones to befriend. His profile with riddled with notes on antisocial behaviour and hostility. Arthur was yet another mutant that hadn’t been bought out, letting his negativity coagulate in his permanent cell.

Tino had to question what was the most efficient path in causing the English man to open up. There were many ways in which he could try and infiltrate Arthur’s mind and involuntarily work his way inside. Obviously, starved mutants were easily won over with food (like Lovino and Feliciano). While Arthur wasn’t a healthy weight, he wasn’t nearly as emaciated as some of the others. Food might win Tino brownie points, but it probably wasn’t they key tactic with Arthur. (but hey, Tino could never be sure so it couldn’t be discredited until he tried).

There was a long, suffering pause after Tino spoke. Tino held Arthur’s eye during the silence, blinking twice as he cocked his head to the side by a barely-noticeable few degrees. It made him look confused and almost naïve as to why Arhtur would ask such a question. Such harsh emerald eyes were practically glaring into his… so, ‘antisocial’ was not a false title then. Tino glanced away, looking almost guilty for even asking such a question. He turned slightly, as if to pretend that he never spoke. He glanced back down the hall as a round of laughter echoed faintly from the other guards’ celebrations. Perhaps Tino would get up and walk another round… First though, he’d wait for a five more awkward seconds.

Five...

Four...

“I wouldn’t mind it…”

Tino blinked before his eyes darted back to glinting emerald ones. Tino leaned back into his chair with a small smile as his posture relaxed ever so slightly. Perfect; Tino had read the situation correctly so far. Perhaps Tino would even get through a few of Arthur’s barriers tonight. After all, the more mutants he befriended, the better. However, assuming friendship stemmed from an agreement to talk was a far cry, especially considering the fact that Arthur’s eyes were jaded like the broken edges of a bottle green glass. Such distrust, but Tino did not let it bother or discourage him.

Arthur shifted in his cell, now no longer casting Tino sideways glares. No, now his pale face was directed entiredly towards Tino’s. The agent noticed the slight matting of choppy, sandy hair and the fact that a light coating of dirt dusted his cheeks, like many of the other prisoners in the Underground. Arthur probably hadn’t been granted a shower in a few days. From what Tino understood, it was more of a weekly ritual. Arthur’s mouth moved again before Tino chose an conversational starter.

”Pardon me for being so blunt, but what possessed you to want my company? Not many guards are willing to linger wherever I happen to be locked away, let alone speak to me unless duty calls.”

Tino blinked a few times, processing the question as the smile faded in intensity from his face momentarily. Such skepticism in his tone that was only amplified by the chronic staring. He was a cynical little mutant, completely justified if Tino’s true motifs were considered, but regardless, the English man didn’t hesitate in beating around the bush. No, he was very direct and very curt into asking why Tino wanted to talk, instead of trying to figure it out during a casual conversation. Tino hardly had to think as to what his response would be.

Tino leaned back in his chair, throwing his arm behind his head as if he were being sheepish. “Well… you look a little lonely and no one else is really awake, or they aren’t showing it. Besides, tonight is supposed to be a happy and social night. I mean, if you want to be alone and I’m bothering you I can just walk around, just say so, but if I can get you anything, I don’t mind.”

And if I seem dangerous,

Would you be scared?

tags: Tin-Tin and Artie, words: 754, notes: Sorryyyyyy the quality is lacking 
Coded by: PerfectFallacy of Gangnam Style

[Arthur W. Kirkland]

☒ Tino Väinämöinen ✐ 757 ✉ nono, that was great! ;w; MADE BY MEULK OF GS

Watching Tino’s reaction to Arthur was interesting, he appeared to be no more harmless than a rather poorly placed man, a man who probably didn’t belong in his current position as a lowly guard who seemed to be somewhat looked down upon by the older, larger, and far crueler veterans of the occupation. Arthur still held fast to his suspicions, the ghostly specters had little reason to lie to him. In either case, he knew that he could forcibly unravel glimpses of the truth if need be from the unnerving companions, currently lingering in the shadows. Arthur hadn’t forced them to leave; perhaps he couldn’t bear the thought of being truly left alone. Their presence was helpful in either case, if Arthur needed them for any reason. Regardless, their hollow gazes rested upon the pair, their movements dry and rustling, as listless as dead autumn leaves scuttling across the ground. The chill of their wraithlike presence only amplified the already uncomfortable emptiness clinging to the concrete walls. The two of them heard the echo of laughter from the others enjoying their mediocre celebrations. The reminder felt cold and lonely. Arthur only curled in on himself even further, wrapping arms tighter about his body, to avoid the series of uncomfortable shivers. The goose flesh was visible across his forearms. Oh, what he would do for the promise of brief warmth, or even the false embrace from the burn of liquor against his throat, spreading through his veins. Tino seemed to lean back into his chair, his posture relaxing with Arthur’s response, to his silent admission to his loneliness, that he wouldn’t mind company, even if it came from the opposing side of his cage. Still, he couldn’t help but to find a trace of amusement with Tino’s facial expression to his bluntness. A verbal weapon that he wouldn’t normally use if he were truly desperate enough for the company; however, small talk was never among his list of priorities whenever responding to the guards. If they were oftentimes so blunt with their fists, then they shouldn’t mind the returning bluntness of his words. It’s not as if he had given the man something truly abhorrent; that would be reserved for later if need be. Being on the receiving end of such nastiness as well as the infuriating lack of power with being locked in a cage, Arthur only had his words to throw at others, an art that had been cultivated and used well in the four long years he’d been here without a contract. Small-talk only seemed preferable between somewhat trusted acquaintances. The smile seemed to fade somewhat from Tino’s expression, an action that reflected in Arthur’s frown, softening the edges of his mouth. Hearing his response and seeing the almost careless way that Tino moved, he couldn’t help but to lower his guard just enough to peek over the edge of broken cynicism. ”You’re not bothering me,” Arthur replied, the corner of his mouth curling slightly, already responding with his rather deprecating brand of humour. ”As long as you’re not set on earning amusement with your fists like the others, then I wouldn’t mind the company.” The idea of Tino becoming a violent sadist when he had yet to showcase that ability was an amusing one, and the dryness of his tone allowed that to bleed through momentarily. Arthur did pause when Tino mentioned getting him anything. Normally, he’d never let the guards know of his discomfort. The notion would probably only give them more amusement over his suffering then he cared to allow. That’s the point in either case, wasn’t it? To be cruel to the barely human mutants, because that was their lot in life? Arthur’s eyes first trailed along Tino’s coat, envy lining his gaze more heavily than anything else. His voice lowered, as if embarrassed to admit that he desired anything from a guard. ”I can hardly feel my limbs; it’s freezing in here... If there’s anything you could spare for warmth, I’d appreciate it… even if it’s just for a bit.” Arthur averted his gaze, light embarrassment briefly warming his cheeks. He could already feel the tenderness of his sore pride after admitting to such a thing. There were few things in the world worse to him than admitting that he needed anything, let along asking for assistance. The only other commodity he would’ve asked for was a taste of liquor. It likely wasn’t a secret that Arthur loved it, more so than the promise of food.

[Tino Väinämöinen]

If I told you what I was,

Would you turn your back on me?

Tino was a patient man, and patience was key with Arthur Kirkland.

Each response, every word, every uttered syllable was scrutinized and analyzed by this one. Such intense eyes watched his every move, every motion, and every gesture. Tino couldn't afford to be sloppy with Arthur. No... the mutant was far to clever for that. If Tino were careless in ay response, Arthur would shut him out. However, if he bent over backwards to the mutant's every whim, he'd be too obvious that something was going on. There was a balancing act in place with very little allowance on each side. Tino would have to walk the line without going a fraction over.

"You're not bothering me."

This time, Arthur's reply was quicker, but that was to be expected. Once the mutant engaged in conversation, it would slowly pick up to a more normal pace, or slightly below it. But the words offered little comfort. The mutant's face was half distorted, back to the clear distrust and warriness. He was like a caged dog, watching and hating everything that moved beyond his bars. Perhaps Tino picked a poor target... but he did want to befriend Arthur. Not only for the sake of gaining trust in the community, but due to the Englishman's powers.

There was a possibility that Tino would need them. Need was a very strong word though. Want was more appropriate in this case, but that was a thought far down a long, long road. First Tino needed Arthur to like him.

Tino flicked his eyes down at Arthur's next remark, eyeing his gloved hands, almost as if he were alarmed at the thought that his fists could be used as a torture tool.

"No no no," Tino said quickly, looking bothered by the statement. "I only fight when I have to. I don't understand how hurting someone without reason could be fun... That's not me." Tino's eyes drifted to the side, towards the laughter that echoed down the corridor. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. If those idiots could just do their job properly without adding in beatings and whippings that were not necessary, then half these mutants wouldn't hate humans as much as they did, and perhaps they'd be less inclined to jump at the opportunity of freedom if they lived in decent quartres. But what was Tino other than a band-aid slapped on to a gaping, festering wound? He was one man expected to contain years and years worth of damage.

Tino's words weren't necessarily the truth though. Tino fought, Tino killed, and Tino walked on. He supposed that perhaps he was forced into a good portion of his battles, but Tino still picked fights and enjoyed fighting, especially when it was against someone he didn't particularly enjoy the company of. That, and the power of control was convenient, like in the case of Alfred Jones. To say that Tino didn't feel any amusement from fighting was incorrect, but he didn't purposefully kick puppies when he walked home.

Another lull in the conversation appeared after Tino's inquiry. The Fin glanced back to the mutant, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly. Arthur looked like he was biting his tongue. Ahh, so the mutant did want something. There was little supervision at the moment; Tino could easily sneak off somewhere to retrieve food, blankets, a new set of clean clothes, anything.

However...

There way Arthur was staring at him made him uncomfortable. Behind the jaded glass shards in his eyes was raw want. Tino had said anything, and the sudden realization of that made him want to back off from his post. Tino was many things and did many things for the government, but he had very strict lines that he refused to cross, especially when it involved getting personal with someone. And as Arthur's eyes traces Tino's chest, the Fin could feel heat rushing to his face.

Arthur's mouth opened hesitantly. Tino was preparing a kind disinclination towards the request.

”I can hardly feel my limbs; it’s freezing in here... If there’s anything you could spare for warmth, I’d appreciate it… even if it’s just for a bit.”

"S-... wait... Haha, oh gosh I thought you were going to ask something else." The relief was painted across Tino's expression as he let out a sigh. He stood up, cast a glance down the hall each way before he unzipped the main zipper on his coat. He didn't mind shedding a few layers. His neoprene suit insulated him well; he only wore the overcoat because it was a component of the uniform.Underneath, he had a faded hoodie on that would cover his suit, save for the material covering his hands, but that appeared nothing more than mere gloves. The hoodie also masked the battery that was attached to Tino's back, but it would only be visible with a spandex type of shirt.

He shed the thick coat off, making him look about 15 kilograms lighter and a few years younger, and quickly searched the pockets. He removed mace from the one, but Tino's other weapons were secured in holsters on his belt. The gun was visible, as were the tonfas on his opposing side, but the blade was not. It was along his backside. Tino stuck the mace into his hoodie pocket. Tino then felt a lump in a pocket that he did not remember being there. Curious, he pulled the item from the jacket pocket and smiled sheepishly. He had forgotten that he smuggled a flask in today. He couldn't be caught with it. It was quickly shoved into his pocket as well and Tino handed the coat over though the bars. It was still warm.

"Here you go. Sorry, I didn't realize how cold you were."

And if I seem dangerous,

Would you be scared?

tags: TinO and Artie, words: 966, notes:  god i'm so sorry for the wait
Coded by: PerfectFallacy of Gangnam Style

[Arthur W. Kirkland]

☒ Tino Väinämöinen ✐ 757 ✉ that only took forever orz;; I'm sorry MADE BY MEULK OF GS

After Arthur had dryly insinuated that he expected to be a source of amusement for the guards, he watched Tino as he glanced down as his hands. He looked bothered by it. Arthur’s brow crinkled just a little, speculating and perhaps a bit confused. And seeing the way that the man cast a distasteful glance in the direction of the guards’ laughter, only came across as disdain for his coworkers. It was puzzling then, that this man was in the position that he was in. ”Not that I don’t commend you for being an upstanding citizen,” the sarcasm was dry, but he hadn’t meant it in an insulting way, just as a point of observation. ”But why are you here at all? Most of the guards seem to be drawn to this line of work for a reason—or so it would seem. They either despise us and get off on making it their life duty to ensure that we’re treated with their version of due respect—or the lot of them have superiority complexes, and it seems like the better choice to spend their lives in the presence of others who will always be lower than them. Because in the outside world, people like them will always be the low-life filth who enjoy trampling anything weaker.” Arthur paused, glancing over Tino, as if testing to see if his words would result in just that: brutal retaliation. Even though everything so far suggested that Tino wasn’t like the other guards, he was still going to test the limits and eye the boundaries before daring to go any further. Even in Weeds, Arthur had always been cautious with tested his limits, although was never shy with breaking the rules or contesting to what was being taught. Then again, if Tino wasn’t like the other guards, then Arthur probably wasn’t like most mutants. He didn’t necessarily speak like them, didn’t offer the humans any sort of respectful greeting or nod just how they’d been taught to do, and he didn’t hold back on his words for their comfort. Mutants were groomed to give humans comfort. And that’s everything that Arthur wasn’t—‘poorly trained’, ‘deviant’ were probably better words to describe him. They were probably written all over his files like marks against his purpose on earth. He was a failure in their eyes, a disappointment. And Arthur wouldn’t have it any other way. He noticed the blush erupting on Tino’s face when Arthur had paused to consider what he could ask from him. It threw him off for a moment. Although when Tino responded and the clear relief was plastered across his expression, it clicked for Arthur what he’d meant. And the confusion in his face turned to smugness. ”I don’t think you’d be able to afford me, good sir,” Arthur responded with mock seriousness, the slight curve of his mouth giving away his amusement in this miserable moment. Still, he very much appreciated the sharing of warmth. He raised his head to watch as Tino made sure that the rest of his items were in place. Most of them were common guard items, like the gun and tonfas, but his eyes were immediately drawn to the flask that Tino had pulled from his jacket pocket and shoved it into his own pocket. Arthur reached forward to take the coat from Tino, immediately pulling his arms through the sleeves and pulling it close and tightly around his form. Oh, God, it was still warm… Arthur reveled in the sudden warm embrace for a few silent moments, a wonderful feeling after being well acquainted with the chill of the cement surrounding him. ”Thank you,” he responded, genuinely grateful for even the smallest gesture. Arthur moved closer to the bars, his eyes still on Tino and his mind still on that flask he’d pulled out earlier. ”It’s New Years, and your coworkers are obviously getting well-plastered while on duty. I would assume that they wouldn’t notice you drinking a little on the job... Would you be up to sharing that flask of yours?” Ever predictable, Arthur would always go for the liquor before he would go for the food or any other healthy sustenance.