[Video] - We're talking about THIS thing that happened and NOTHING ELSE

[jonesiseverywhere]

Dudes! Check it out! I got sent home for a while and got a totally freakin' metal new mask! Literally!

[He flips down his new steel mask and models it.] Made it myself! Whaddya think? I think it's the coolest skull mask around myself.

[PRIVATE TO JUNKRAT, a little while after the first post.]

Hey, uh, listen dude. I wanted to say...I'm sorry for what happened when we first met. Guess I got a little trigger happy, huh?

Comments

[jonesiseverywhere]

Hey not everyone likes as much pop as Casey Jones if you feel me.

[It's probably not likely, but it IS possible that Junkrat is a bad surprise away from a heart attack at any moment.]

[muroieda]

[HEY! Junkrat doesn't have a weak heart. He has a...

weak everything, really.

Junkrat does read Casey's message but he ghosts it. To be honest, he doesn't realize it's probably some kind of dig at him. Instead, he gets to work dismantling the stupid thing, and it only takes him a few minutes.

Putting it back together, however, is a longer affair. About three hours longer. He picks up his omnicom and finally responds.]

upgrades are done. come pick it up when you can.

["I forgive you."]

[jonesiseverywhere]

[Wha-? Huh?

Casey had pretty much accepted that he'd probably never see that glove again. Which was fine. Yeah, he worked hard on all on his gear, but the stunner could be remade, probably way better with all the future stuff lying around. So he has to take a moment to process what happened.

Is this...for real? It's not in pieces? This isn't a prank or anything?

OK, he's game. He taps out a quick]

omw

[And heads to Junkrat's room.]

[muroieda]

[The door is ajar when Casey shows up, an unspoken invitation to come in as he wishes. When he arrives, Junkrat is actually busying himself with painting grenades and placing them on an impressive spread of drying racks. Some are red with white x's on them, others sport his Mayhem smiley faces, others gold and blue striped -- all fun, vibrant colors that make them look like toys.

It's not meant to make them look like toys, though. It's meant as a labeling system that only Junkrat can understand - a quick way to identify which type they are. He's listerning to whatever music is available around here, though at a low volume just to provide white noise--so he notices when Casey arrives.]

G'day cobba.

[He stands up and collects what looks to be a simple gauntlet that's been moved off to the side of his workbench. The material of the hockey glove has been picked apart at the seams, repurposed into a rather benign-looking and fashionable (if the post-apocalyptic look is your thing) fingerless gauntlet.

Junkrat kneels on the floor to stand on his knees, holding out the gauntlet, leatherette straps leaving the shaft open for Casey to slip his forearm into it.]

Had ta guess yer measurements, so let me see if it needs ta get tweaked.

[jonesiseverywhere]

[Casey is not a coward, so when he cautiously peers into Junkrat's room, it's with a scowl. Apparently he didn't even need to bother because the weirdo has got super hearing, but he takes a moment to look at Junkrat's room anyway. No obvious traps, and he probably didn't pull any of the pins on those grenades while he was still in the room. The only thing he has to say about the vast array of grenades is...]

Dude. Your neighbors must hate you.

[Some part of him wants to pocket a grenade or two, just in case. Not that he's not good for explosives, but he figures that they're all painted like that for some reason, or else they'd all look different. But there's some kind of pattern to it all...

It makes Casey's overabundant curiosity itch.

OK, the gauntlet? Totally metal. Not that Casey knows it, but he is going to fit right into the post-apocalypse just fine. The gauntlet sits in his hands like some kind of weird-ass proposal (he's been hanging around Dave too long) and Casey fixes Junkrat with a skeptical look.]

This ain't gonna shock me when I stick my arm in it, is it?

[muroieda]

Eh.

[He shrugs dismissively.]

They leave well enough alone.

[He's not set off an explosive in his own workshop in years. If there's going to be a noise complaint, it's going to be from the sound of tools. Still, he watches Casey's reaction with interest. He knows that look, the one that usually accompanies itchy palms. The Junker scowl.

He'll address it later.]

Already took a risk, mate. [He gestures the open gauntlet in his direction.] Hazard another.

[Which, for guys like them, is a better "no, it's not trapped" than actually saying "no, it's not trapped."]

[jonesiseverywhere]

[...Fair enough. He shrugs and slips his arm in the gauntlet, using his other hand to cinch up the straps. It fits about as well as his old hand-me-down hockey glove did, if a little tighter on the fingers. He flexes his hand experimentally.]

A'ight. Gimmie the rundown.

[muroieda]

[Once he's done feeling the fit, Junkrat takes him by the arm and holds it a few degrees upward - away from his own face, directed over his shoulder.]

Make a fist and point it towards the ground.

[And when he does, a metal shaft will piston forward from inside the gauntlet's forearm, and will stay ejected until Casey brings his hand back up. It ends with a simple T-shaped head, with metal contacts on the opposite ends. It's still a taser, but without running the risk of being high-profile, going off without accident, and without sacrificing any dexterity that a hockey glove would.]

[jonesiseverywhere]

[He does, and his face lights up like all his Christmases have come at once.]

Aw, killer!

[He tries it a few more times, getting a feel for the sensitivity. Then he slaps Junkrat on the back, in a jocular expression of newly-forged bro-hood.]

Thanks man! This rocks!

[muroieda]

[Junkrat jolts forward at the slap, mostly because it's entirely unexpected. He laughs anyway, then gets off of his knees to stand up again.]

Remember - if ya dare use it on me again, I'll make sure they have ta rebuild ya from the shoulder down if ya ever want ta use it after that.

[Even though it's quite clearly a threat, his sing-song tone makes it sound like he's reminding Casey to bring his lunch to school. He plops himself back down on the stool in front of his workbench, gesturing towards the array of colorful drying grenades.]

Ya like 'em, huh? Saw ya sneakin' a glance when ya came in.

[jonesiseverywhere]

[Casey is more focused on admiring his new toy than Junkrat's threat. It might have been different if Casey hadn't spent a significant chunk of time being threatened in similar ways by everyone he's ever had a beef with.]

Oh, yeah, totally! Whatever you say.

[The grenades do catch his attention, though.]

Yeah, never seen a real grenade before! Proton-powered explosive hockey pucks, but no grenades.

[muroieda]

[Good enough.

Junkrat reaches out to the back for the drier ones and grabs a few: one yellow one with a smiley face, one fire-engine red with a white X on one end, and a bright orange one with a silver stripe across its widest part. He hands one of each to Casey.]

Here.

[He points to the red one.] Incendiary, [Yellow.] stun, [Orange.] shrapnel.

Don't do anything stupid. [Like handing a kid live grenades and expecting him to not do anything stupid with them, for example.] Other than that, knock yerself out, mate.