[OPEN]

[snoutback]

Who| Roadhog, Junkrat, and YOU.
What| Reunions, playing watchdog, sparring.
Where| Mess Hall, Junkrat's Habitat, and the Sim Room.
When| Catch-all for May.
Warnings/Notes| swearing, sexual references/innuendo



Closed to Junkrat

Forty-eight hours after waking up, Roadhog's head is still spinning. Suddenly aliens were real, and the revelation's caught him with his pants around his ankles, companionless, unarmed, and struggling to form a solid plan on his own. Been some time since he's been visited by this kind of unease. Not a touch since the day Oz disappeared behind him, a granular speck on a great blue sea. And what's miserable is that he just knows it's because Junkrat isn't here to talk a mile a minute about how they were gonna survey the ship's security fixtures, squeeze around 'em to plant explosives in four, five, or a dozen different places, and then stage their fiery escape into the final frontier at the helm of a shiny new starcruiser—all casual, like it's gonna be the easiest thing in the world.

Presumably somewhere there were civilian accommodations on this hunk of junk, but Roadhog's been far too busy trying to make sense of his surroundings — and by extension his entire predicament — to sleep or to find something to eat, half-hoping he'll just happen across his partner so they can get straight back to business. At this point, his hunger pangs were developing a mind of their own, subconsciously influencing the route he takes. It's as he pops his head into a too bright - too busy mess hall that, at last, just as Hog was teetering on the brink of being tired enough to give up chase for a while, or possibly even entirely...

There's the little shit.

Were he not used to singling Junkrat out of worse, a single wild blonde head throwing up smoke signals would still have blended in seamlessly amidst the visual chaos of dozens of spandex-clad bodies. Roadhog makes a definitive beeline for his fellow Junker, ignoring the fact that the Jamison he knew wouldn't be sitting calmly at a table with so many new stimuli around him.

He has every intention of shuffling him off and away from this terrible clamor, but for now he plants his hand on the table beside Rat, leaning partway around him so that his eyes can bore into the jut of one high cheekbone. "Bout time--"

May 19th and beyond, Habitation Area, OTA

The days that follow are quieter than he expects, as Junkrat's busy schedule pulls him to and fro. Usually it's him telling Rat to stay put at the safehouse when errands need running. To be the one left like this is a foreign concept, just like how the people who come 'round asking for the bossman aren't waving around money or guns. Or how some of them haven't even heard of Rat at all, and are simply tourists, wandering all these little bits and pieces of worlds that aren't theirs without aim.

If you've got words for Rat at any point after the eighteenth, you might instead come across a plush hulk of a man with an uncannily similar taste in fashion. Either lazing about, stretched out in a sagging beach chair like he owns the place, or toiling away inside a large, dilapidated building that wasn't there when you visited before. While he's obviously noticed you coming from quite a long ways off, his foreboding silence suggests he won't be saying g'day unless you give him a very good reason.

Roadhog can tell the sightseers from Rat's actual acquaintances by how little caution they demonstrate as they walk the red earth, laden with buried mines. For them, he at the very least growls a half-hearted "Stop." Or if it's too late and his ears pick up a faint click: "Don't move."

Late May, Sim Room, OTA

Come time and many discussions with Junkrat, Roadhog's own schedule becomes a back and forth. Never could he have predicted a gig of theirs would involve classes. You been taking yours? If your mind isn't too burnt out on the new and unusual, you might notice a fresh face, or technically mask. Even without any visible expression or audibly spoken word, the big brute does not even once seem interested in anything the instructor has to say. At least, that is, until class moves into the sim room, where his leather snout points up in silent but overt wonder, as billions of data points begin to construct the realest fake world technology can offer.

It might be a typical city street, chock with pedestrians. It might be a lush alien jungle full of natural threats, or it might be a featureless desert that could've passed for Oz were it not for the looming gas giant taking up half the horizon. The possibilities are endless.

The only thing that isn't up for debate is that it's time to practice trading blows with another metahuman and your assigned partner is this humongous newcomer.


(Final prompt can be a cooperative training exercise rather than a 1 v 1 if you'd prefer!)

Comments

[snoutback]

Yeah, she seemed nice. She even had all of her original limbs. A full head of hair. Probably all of her real teeth, too. Rat's done pretty well for himself in that department, but Roadhog had questions.

She walked through a minefield to get here and knows it. Roadhog had been watching as she took deliberate step after step, and now she stood before him, teaming up with Junkrat to try and stare him into submission, like she wouldn't be getting dragged off their property on his hook if his partner weren't giddy over her.

She seemed nice. Clean. Civilized. Like what they'd call a normie, yet she doesn't appear to have any obvious qualms about what she's getting into, and Roadhog isn't sure what to make of that just yet.

Last thing he wants is an upset Rat chewing out his ear, though.

Roadhog issues a pained groan, not because of the blow but because of what's expected of him. Meeting Pharah's gaze, he allows the silence to stretch on for one last awkward, prolonged moment before, finally, he puts his hand out for her to shake.

[muroieda]

During the pronounced silence, Junkrat doesn't seem to steep in it at all. His eyes keep darting between Fareeha and Mako rapidly, a steadfast grin plastered onto his face as he waits for one of them to make the first move.

He nearly makes a startled jump when Roadhog finally thrusts out his hand. Junkrat stares at it for a moment with a quirked eyebrow, but then they fold in and make a small wave as he performs an animated eye roll, clearly dissatisfied with what Mako is willing to offer.

"Oh, come off it."

His spirit isn't dampened for long, because that grin comes back and his prosthetic arm leaves its perch around Fareeha's shoulders. In a quick movement in which she wouldn't have time to see, much less prepare for, Junkrat pushes a forceful shove into the small of her back to send her directly into Roadhog's expansive stomach.

"Give 'er one of yer world-famous hugs, Hoggo!"

If Roadhog was ever famous for hugs, it'd be for having crushed ribcages crushed with his strength alone. This, however, is not a rib-crushing context, and more of a 'hugs the way Junkrat knows them' context.

[justice_from_above]

It's awkward, but endurable, and when he puts his hand out Fareeha is reaching her hand out as well. She's not here to cause trouble (although idly wondering what Roadhog would think about her if he learns about her involvement in the Army and Helix, if Junkrat hasn't told him already). She even offers him a genuine smile.

But then Junkrat seems unhappy with the proceedings and before she has a chance to figure out why, the weight on her shoulders shifts to her back and she's propelled forcefully into Roadhog's ample belly. It's too quick to compensate and even though she does get both hands before her, there's still a wet slap against his skin as she gets a face full of it.

The idea of receiving a hug from someone who's been as lukewarm about her arrival as anything else wasn't a pleasant though in and of itself, and that coupled with his reputation and sheer size definitely makes her balk.

[snoutback]

It's been too long since Junkrat's gotten to do anything exceptionally impulsive. Knowing that, Roadhog figures out what's about to happen a solid beat before it does, and has the pleasure of choosing to do absolutely nothing as a startled Fareeha hurtles towards him.

Said ample belly ripples on impact, eventually settling and giving way to a Pharah-shaped gulf. Most would think he'd be pissed, ready to tie the both of their spines together to demonstrate to them his own personal idea of beautiful eternal matrimony, but ten seconds later Roadhog is still laughing out loud at the look that was on this Egyptian sheila's face before it sank several inches into his gut - with a comically loud smack and everything.

Nah yeah, you got him, yeah... O.K.

Another tic and Roadhog's laughter cuts out around the same time he pulls Fareeha off her feet, straight into a warm, overwhelming, utterly inescapable hug as commanded. She'll find herself face to face with his perpetually wheezing snout, pinned by two bulging arms to his softer, much more pliant chest.

Although there's no affection in it, he isn't squeezing any harder than he needs to in order to keep her from sliding out of his grip, which becomes very important when he tips back, drags his heel out, and performs a quick quarter turn, really putting on a show he hopes will be the end of Rat's nagging.

His earlier stunt had earned him this one, at least.

[muroieda]

There are stars in his eyes as the whole thing goes down. His fists are balled up in excitement as he watches Fareeha hit the solid wall of flesh that Roadhog is, then sinks further into him, enveloped in arms thicker than any tree in Junkrat's simulated Outback.

The air is filled with his delighted giggling when her feet get lifted off of the ground in Roadhog's animated, over-the-top embrace, going far beyond the call of duty as far as Junkrat is concerned. He has the feeling that he is just playing it up for Junkrat's sake, but there's something to be said for trying to get some kind of bond started through forcing them to contact. After all, he knows that Roadhog comes off as generally unapproachable with, well, almost everyone, so it's important to show Fareeha that there's nothing really to fear with him. Junkrat may be the more approachable one, what with his social nature and all, but Roadhog can be a good friend too!

With gleeful weightlessness in his step, he gleefully hops over to meet the difference in that quarter turn so that he can stand directly in front of Roadhog and behind Fareeha. He leans in and wraps his own arms around Roadhog's to trap Fareeha in a veritable Junker sandwich, and even though his arms don't have enough length to wrap around both Fareeha and Roadhog's bulk, that doesn't mean he doesn't try his best. With a snaggletoothed smile, he nuzzles the soft black hair on the back of Fareeha's head, a throaty little chuckle finding its way out from him, seeming quite content to stay like this for a moment.

Both his wife and his best friend are getting along!

[justice_from_above]

A mix of surprise and embarrassment and an utter shattering of pride, but she's doing her best to maintain her composure. It's not easy - especially the way Roadhog brings her into said hug before she's got a chance to fully extricate herself from his gut. Her arms are pinned to her sides, elbows digging in against ribs, and suddenly she's airborne and mere inches from his face. She tries to give him a decent smile, but it's very slightly pained.

Then he spins her and starts to set her down and she thinks maybe she'll be free from this hot, sweaty prison soon, but then there's Junkrat sidling up behind her and, as sweet as that would be on its own, in this particular situation just marked her with mild irritation.

Neither of them were actively trying to kill her, though, so she'd keep her complaints to herself and just endure it. It couldn't possibly last much longer ... could it?

[snoutback]

"—Rat."

Roadhog starts to grunt, but Junkrat is quick and excitable and determined as ever. Sooner than Hog can breathe out the syllable, mismatched fingers eagerly dig for purchase around the underside of his biceps, and Roadhog feels the temperature rise by degrees the instant Junkrat tosses his own seventy-something kilos of sun-baked metal and flesh into the pile-up.

While he's plenty used to all of this, Roadhog gets a good lens-full of Fareeha's increasingly forced smile, taking up exactly one half of his view. Meanwhile, his muscles were well aware of the mounting tension in hers, keeping her from putting up a fight that a part of her probably wanted to.

"Think she's had enough."

Though it's Roadhog himself who decides it's over, bucking an elbow to break out of Rat's grip. His own grip relaxing, he lowers her back to the ground between them, for better or for worse.

[muroieda]

"Ah! Of course, of course."

Junkrat backs off, not one drop dampened by being broken off from the group hug. As far as he's concerned, what just transpired was a good development, even though all of the involved parties might not be on the same page. Ignorant of the energy in the air, Junkrat bounces over to his barbie and slams his hands against the top of the iron lid. "All roight! Now that we've got introductions out of the way, who's hungry fer some barbecue?!"

Junkrat starts shrugging out of his jacket, and once he gets it off there's a beat of hesitation while he looks over to the two beat-up lawn chairs perched in front of his camper.

"Holy dooley," he comments. "I'm actually gonna have ta furnish this place fer three people now! Huh--that's a first. Ah, no worries, I'll stand fer now!" he decides quickly, hanging up his jacket on the shattered rear view mirror on the Type-2. "We can work on the modifications when we're done eatin'. So!" He claps his hands together. "Wot's everyone in the mood for?!"

[justice_from_above]

She's still trying her best to keep a decent expression, but it hurts to breathe and she feels sticky and itchy and drenched with sweat that isn't hers; it's a whole new kind of nightmare for her.

Eventually, though - and surprisingly by Roadhog's actions - it ends, and she's back on solid ground with the ability to pull forth a full breath of air. She takes advantage of that, and rakes her fingers through her hair to try and coerce it back into place.

Quietly preening herself, so to speak, she watches Junkrat and thinks about how right now she's really just in the mood for a shower. But, that would be impolite and she can manage a few hours, right?

"I'm game for whatever you cook up."

[snoutback]

Even now, after Fareeha's managed to sop up a great deal of it, there's sweat to spare pouring down Roadhog's back as he turns it straightaway. When Junkrat says barbecue, he's right there, following after his lanky compadre, and it's the fastest he's moved in the last five or so minutes. While Rat was in school, Hog was out digging nesting holes for mines, expanding the perimeter around the new workshop

And now, it's break time.

Out of the two chairs there are to choose from, he grabs the one with severely bowed armrests, cocking it toward the barbie pit before dropping into it with a carelessness that probably should've smashed through the already stretched and warped backing.

"Kabobs."

Roadhog hasn't got time for anybody's indecisiveness, either.

"Chicken n' pineapple. Mild jerk," he lists off, gouging a forefinger through the air at Rat. "Feelin' Caribbean."

[muroieda]

"Kabobs!" Junkrat exclaims in agreement. A sudden thought interrupts his glee, and then it comes back with an untold force as he holds a finger up in the air, an invisible lightbulb going off over his head. "Kabobs!!!" he repeats, as if it were any change from the previous one.

He practically throws himself into the camper, and there's some mild rustling around that goes on for a minute or so before Junkrat comes out "empty-handed". He hops back in front of the grill once again, leaning down to lift one of the stainless steel wings up for counterspace, locking it into place, then opening the imposing hand-made barbie to get it fired up and let it warm up while he does the prep work, and both Roadhog and Fareeha get the best seats in the house to watch.

All of said prep inventory slowly starts getting unpacked from the bag at his hip. A bowl made out of what used to be some kind of vehicular components welded together, a knife that stands out from the rest of his equipment as being exceptionally well-maintained, and...a staining brush, all neatly laid out. Then comes out the blocks of fake chicken, a whole pineapple, a three-quarter full handle of spiced rum, a single habañero, a bag of brown sugar, a bundle of scallions, two thick stocks of raw sugarcane--Junkrat looks at Fareeha and waggles his brow at her as he puts it down on the counter.

He's an exceptionally fast worker--while he ceaselessly chatters about whatever comes to mind--starting first with the jerk paste, pulling unlabelled spices from the rack hanging off the grill and not even bothering to measure just how much he's putting in, but it's anything but haphazardly thrown together. Not for one moment does it seem like Junkrat is anything but completely in control of what he's doing, even if it's at a blisteringly fast pace. You might not even notice that he dips his finger directly in the sauce to taste-test it in the process.

It makes for an entertaining show. If there was one thing that rivalled Junkrat's passion for explosions, it was cooking.

A few minutes later, exactly one dozen kebabs, skewered with sugarcane spears, are on the grill, filling immediate area with a smoky, sweet-spicy smell. Junkrat tidies up his workspace by gathering the trimmings of the pineapple into the spent bag of brown sugar, ties it off, and then spins a 180 as he pitches it into the distance with a high-pitched grunt, quickly covering his ears with his hands.

Aaaaaaaand...

BOOM!

Garbage successfully incinerated! Junkrat cackles as the area where the land mine used to be is momentarily obscured by red earthen dust.

[justice_from_above]

Fareeha settles herself in the remaining chair, perched on the end with her fingers lightly interlocked, elbows on knees. While there's still a part of her - and will be, for a while, that's acutely aware of the new presence, she chooses to focus on Junkrat. He certainly offers his own little brand of entertainment; it's intriguing watching him move at such speeds and with something of a haphazard precision.

And for a moment she looses herself in it and smiles. He was infectious in his enthusiasm. The she remembers it's three of them now and she shouldn't be so standoffish. She settles back in the chair and looks over to Roadhog as Junkrat works his magic.

"What do you think of the Legion, so far?" Hopefully a fairly innocuous question. The boom i the distance grabs her attention, snapping her head in that direction and tensing, rising an inch out of her chair before realizing what's happened. Okay, not intruders, or some poor Legion staffer that got lost. She tries to settle back like nothing happened.

[snoutback]

Kicking one ankle over the other, Roadhog stretches back like he's just switched the TV on to a match, and for good reason. Trying to follow Junkrat's hands was a sport in and of itself, as he mixed this and chopped that and hacked at sugarcane, whittling out his dozen skewers at the kind of speeds that probably belonged on some kind of televised competition.

Roadhog would be engrossed by it, usually, though today his focus is split between the show and keeping a close watch on the woman in his periphery. The chances that she'd try anything funny right now were fatter than him, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to do what instinct always told him to.

And yet Fareeha still defies his expectations, doing what most didn't risk when they had the option of speaking to Junkrat instead. The chair beneath Roadhog squeaks as he gives a monumental shrug, leather pig-nose pulling toward her slightly. "Not in it."

Her question answered--sufficiently in his opinion--Roadhog plugs his ears in tandem with Junkrat. By the time the latter unclinches his eyes and looks back in their direction, a column of dust and smoke billowing up behind him, Hog is already waiting with his thumb hoisted in the air.

Nice one, boss.

[muroieda]

Junkrat spins around on the ball of his foot and, upon seeing Roadhog's thumbs up, takes an animated bow, arm up in the air behind him and everything.

"Just got here," Junkrat elects to elaborate on Roadhog's behalf. "Couldn't stand bein' without his beloved boss fer long enough ta stick around fer the seminar."

He leans in Roadhog's direction and gives him a wink, sticking out a little bit of a cheeky tongue.

[justice_from_above]

He's the first person Fareeha has met, so far, that was dragged in and opted not to join. She regards him curiously until Junkrat adds his note on the matter, and while she doubts that't the entirety of it, she doesn't push further.

"Well, in any case, welcome."

[snoutback]

"Yeah..." is Roadhog's lackluster response to Fareeha, while he snorts at Junkrat's antics over yonder, slowly inverting his thumb until it points at the ground.

Then, in true Roadhog fashion--meaning he doesn't bother to explain himself beforehand--he suddenly stands back up and tromps away, over to Rat's camper, up the three steps, and through the narrow entrance, one shoulder and one leg at a time with the frame pushing at his middle.

A couple of minutes later, when he re-emerges in the very same manner, there are two six-packs dangling from his finger-tips. Twelve cans of foreign branding that can't be anything but beer, given the context.

Cracking one out of the plastic rings, he sets it over beside the grill, wordlessly, on Junkrat's prep area now that he's gone and made some room. The rest he drops off next to his chair, all except for a single can that ends up in front of Fareeha's face as Roadhog looms over her, offering her the butt end of the drink.

[muroieda]

In response to the thumbs down, Junkrat's smile never fades--he just cheekily sticks out his tongue at him, even though he's already turned away to get into the camper.

"He's still gotta get used to this place," he elaborates, pulling in his tongue and looking at Fareeha without any damper on his mood. "Just got here two days ago. I took the job as soon as they offered it 'cause I almost always do, but Roadie's gotta make sure he can trust them. Although I reckon it'll come down to boredom rather than trust--not like he can do a whole lot of his typical hobbies on this ship."

In the time he's been talking, Roadhog comes out with two sets of tinnies and places one on his workspace.

"Ah, cheers mate."

He picks it up with his prosthetic hand, simultaneously holding it and pulling back the tab to crack it open. He takes a swig of it--despite being beer, it's chilled to perfection to be satisfyingly refreshing in this heat.

[justice_from_above]

"It is a lot to get used to."

Fareeha, certainly, is out of her element as she watches Roadhog up and disappear into the camper. Not a talkative type, and hard to read. Definitely going to be a challenge, but one she's going to have to take carefully given his friendship with Junkrat; she can't afford to piss him off.

Also she probably wouldn't survive pissing him off.

She looks at the beer in her face, then up at Roadhog as she accepts it and pops it open.

"Thanks."

[snoutback]

"Skull it," Roadhog suggests the moment she takes the beer from him, taking a step to the side so that Junkrat and Fareeha had a line of sight on each other again.

Pretty much just to see if she -- or they -- would.

It'd stop them from trying to drag him into any small talk for another minute or two, at least.

[muroieda]

Junkrat freezes up at the demand, lowing his can and glancing over at both of them. He looks at Fareeha first, then Roadhog, then back at Fareeha. Huh, what an awfully affectionate way to 'haze' the new girl...

She really must be making a good impression on him so far, even if she hasn't figured out how to talk to him. Or at him, as is the case sometimes. Junkrat barks out laughter and practically hops out from behind the grill, hobbling up to Fareeha and switching the can to his full arm so he can hold it out toward her, elbow out, in invitation to skull it with arms intertwined.

[justice_from_above]

It takes her a moment to figure out what he means; she hasn't ever heard that particular phrasing of it. Once the realization hits, though, she doesn't seem too worried by it, and pops her beer in anticipation.

Then Junkrat's laughing and coming over and offering to do it together. Sure, why not? It's not like this will be hard.

She stands, links her arm with his, and gives him a od before expertly throwing her beer back.

[snoutback]

Roadhog's normal methods were off the table if Jamie was wanting to keep this girl around, which the bugger really, really does, if the newly arisen, almost dumbfounded element lacing his typical cheer was any indication.

As everyone shuffles to get into position, Roadhog replaces Junkrat behind the grill, minding their midday snack in the interim, as well as helping himself to some of the leftover sauce stuck to the mixing bowl. And while the other two are busy aggressively courting one another, Roadhog hikes his mask up to the bridge of his nose and leaves it that way, exposing the lower third of his face— no big spectacle made of it and nothing horrific lurking below.

Popping a sauce-covered finger between thick, naturally down-turned lips, he watches the proceedings between samplings of concentrated spice and swigs of beer, waiting to see who finished in first place.

Even if it wasn't meant to be a contest, there was always a winner.

[muroieda]

With perfect synchrony Junkrat too throws his own back, pounding it down like only a man who grew up in a desert would know how. It's gone in less than a handful of seconds, but when he finishes he doesn't pull down his own arm--

Because Fareeha is still working on hers.

Junkrat glances at his own can but keeps his arm in place as to avoid yanking her drink from her mouth, and he has a bit of a consolatory, sheepish smile on his face--that has trails of beer running down the sides of his mouth.

"Well...s'pose I had a head start alre--"

He gets interrupted by his own belch--quickly laughing it off. "Beg pardon!"