["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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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.