[ He'd deliberately waited till dark before disclosing his location so as to slip away into the night with an inferno at his heels. He displays no ostensible signs of pyromania but he'll comfortably torch a forest if pushed. Ain't no allies here for him to mind.
His boldness gives the impression of absolute control but Dabi's not omniscient; see how he hesitates to approach her completely — might still be heroes skulking in the midst. Her bluff stalls him. But it does not deflect the young man. ]
So were the birds; how would you know? We could talk ourselves hoarse with empty accusations.
[ It's subtle 'cause Dabi gestures as he speaks but he's moved closer, and now, quickly, he steps directly in front of the girl. ]
Sup. You wanted proof: [ He spreads his arms lazily. Whiskey leaks from the can and onto his fingers. He smiles. ] Here I am... Ever talk to a villain you won't tryin' to cuff?
[Despite her efforts to appear perfectly poised, Ochako can't stop herself from flinching as he pops up right in front of her. She does, at least, manage to prevent herself from taking an actual step back, but it's not enough; that wince was probably exactly the type of reaction he'd been hoping for, and she feels color rushing right to her cheeks. It's frustrating. Humiliating, even.
But she can focus on her mistakes after she makes it out of this. For now, she simply forces herself to take a steadying breath, catching a whiff of that whiskey as she does so. He'd mentioned it before, of course, but her eyes still flick down to the can in his hands before coming right back up to meet his own. Alcohol and fire: a worrying combination.]
Villains never want to just talk. They're always up to something.
[ It's tough to say whether Dabi's talent for getting under everyone's skin is actual strategy or an offshoot of his irreverent persona, but one thing's for sure: he clearly delights in it. Mingling with hoodlums had sharpened his eyes to false bravado and he'll capitalize on any sign of hesitation in the heroine. This blushing creature. ]
Somethin' mean? No one's exclusively good or bad, Ura-chan. You're smarter'n that.
[ Fair warning: disputing his nickname for her is an uphill battle. He turns with a faint sweep of his tattered coat and heads on back to the fallen log, motioning with his neck for her to follow. Seated, Dabi peers back at her through the flames rising from the ground. ]
On the real though, I wanted to see you. [ He smiles kindly but his tone grows firm: ] Sit down.
["Ura-chan?" Ochako grits her teeth, remembering the way Toga trilled her name right before stabbing her in the leg. The memory is unpleasant, to be sure, but it serves as yet another reminder for her to remain vigilant. A villain speaking in such a familiar way is a bad, bad sign.
As is, of course, his motion for her to follow him toward the fire. She eyes the strange flames for a moment, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of her face, before shifting her gaze back to him and slowly, stiffly, heading his way. Just put one foot in front of the other. Easy. Except by the time she's standing right across from him, her heart is pounding in her chest. What did Gunhead drill into her head time and time again? Ah, right: Don't fight on your opponent's field. Make them fight on yours.
...So much for that.]
I don't want to sit. [There—an attempt to gain back some autonomy, as well as the first truly uncooperative thing she's done. She stiffens her back, preparing for the backlash as she quickly presses forward.] I want to know why you wanted to see me. We're not friends.
[ He drinks from the can, wipes his mouth with his hiked up sleeve and looks pointedly at the girl. ]
You think my plans hinge on your posture?
[ His scary schemes thwarted by her insistence to stand (well within his range)? Dabi chuckles, slowly slouching forward with his shoulders. As if blind to her urgency he bows his head and studies the lip of the can with a distant look. Conceit retreats from his features and for an instant he looks something like sincere. ]
In the end I didn't become a hero. Not like the rest of 'em. It all fell apart inside...
[ Dabi smiles back at the crackling wood like it mocks him, then at Uraraka, probably too young to understand his ramblings. ]
Anyway. You're my connection to hero society just as I am the underside of your coin. And, [ He rolls his eyes. ] I like you. Since you gotta soft spot for me... fuck it, why not? Let's hang out.
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no subject
His boldness gives the impression of absolute control but Dabi's not omniscient; see how he hesitates to approach her completely — might still be heroes skulking in the midst. Her bluff stalls him. But it does not deflect the young man. ]
So were the birds; how would you know? We could talk ourselves hoarse with empty accusations.
[ It's subtle 'cause Dabi gestures as he speaks but he's moved closer, and now, quickly, he steps directly in front of the girl. ]
Sup. You wanted proof: [ He spreads his arms lazily. Whiskey leaks from the can and onto his fingers. He smiles. ] Here I am... Ever talk to a villain you won't tryin' to cuff?
no subject
But she can focus on her mistakes after she makes it out of this. For now, she simply forces herself to take a steadying breath, catching a whiff of that whiskey as she does so. He'd mentioned it before, of course, but her eyes still flick down to the can in his hands before coming right back up to meet his own. Alcohol and fire: a worrying combination.]
Villains never want to just talk. They're always up to something.
[So what are you up to?]
no subject
Somethin' mean? No one's exclusively good or bad, Ura-chan. You're smarter'n that.
[ Fair warning: disputing his nickname for her is an uphill battle. He turns with a faint sweep of his tattered coat and heads on back to the fallen log, motioning with his neck for her to follow. Seated, Dabi peers back at her through the flames rising from the ground. ]
On the real though, I wanted to see you. [ He smiles kindly but his tone grows firm: ] Sit down.
no subject
As is, of course, his motion for her to follow him toward the fire. She eyes the strange flames for a moment, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of her face, before shifting her gaze back to him and slowly, stiffly, heading his way. Just put one foot in front of the other. Easy. Except by the time she's standing right across from him, her heart is pounding in her chest. What did Gunhead drill into her head time and time again? Ah, right: Don't fight on your opponent's field. Make them fight on yours.
...So much for that.]
I don't want to sit. [There—an attempt to gain back some autonomy, as well as the first truly uncooperative thing she's done. She stiffens her back, preparing for the backlash as she quickly presses forward.] I want to know why you wanted to see me. We're not friends.
no subject
You think my plans hinge on your posture?
[ His scary schemes thwarted by her insistence to stand (well within his range)? Dabi chuckles, slowly slouching forward with his shoulders. As if blind to her urgency he bows his head and studies the lip of the can with a distant look. Conceit retreats from his features and for an instant he looks something like sincere. ]
In the end I didn't become a hero. Not like the rest of 'em. It all fell apart inside...
[ Dabi smiles back at the crackling wood like it mocks him, then at Uraraka, probably too young to understand his ramblings. ]
Anyway. You're my connection to hero society just as I am the underside of your coin. And, [ He rolls his eyes. ] I like you. Since you gotta soft spot for me... fuck it, why not? Let's hang out.