Clank!
"Damn it-!"
Pop!
"Tsk- loud much?"
Another broiling day in the heart of Tokyo-to. Another day spent trying- and still failing- to fix up some ridiculous hunk of metal that he's absolutely certain will be invaluable to them at some point. When he said this the first time around, the only response he got was an eye roll and the sound of bubblegum popping.
"You don't like it, go somewhere else. Garage's huge."
Gum is never impressed with his attitude, but never ever backs down from a verbal jousting match.
"Not nearly big enough to get away from the sound of your inevitable failure. Seriously, dude, give up on that thing."
The way she speaks sometimes makes her sound like a condescending aunt. She likes it that way. Must've subconsciously picked it up from her mother or something.
Tab is never impressed with her quips.
"I told you it's gonna be useful! It's your own fault for insisting we take up this junkyard as our new base. Can't just throw a guy into a whole pile of stuff and expect him not to wanna mess around in it."
Another audible pop of the bubblegum, and Tab swears she does it to irritate him further. As if the heat and frustration of not being able to figure out how to fix something weren't enough.
"Only way that thing's gonna be useful is if you magically turn it into a microwave. And don't go actin' like you wouldn't've just grabbed some old junk from another junkyard and brought it back to our old base! Besides, that place was shit compared to this one. Finally, a girl can get some sun."
Damn. She had a point there. Not that he could accept that so openly.
"Like 'a girl' doesn't get enough sun on the streets? Ain't my fault if you're doomed to have a ghostly skin tone your whole life, chick."
He hasn't faced her even once to answer back, which is why he doesn't see the wrench flying at him, and why he doesn't try to doge it. Why it meets its target exactly in the middle of the back of Tab's head, sending him flying forward.
"Damn! What the hell! Always violence with you when you lose!"
That was gonna leave a serious lump in the back of his head. Not to mention a serious headache that he could already feel coming on.
Gum doesn't seem ashamed one bit. In fact, she seems a little too smug for her own good. She leans back into the worn out couch, arms crossed, nose in the air.
"I don't really think I'm the loser here, Corn."
God, how he hates that nickname with a passion. It's his own fault for letting her at his hair with a bottle of peroxide. 'What could possibly go wrong' he thought at the time. Now she was trying relentlessly to stick him with a new nickname to match his new gross hair- a colour that resembled fresh corn. He hated it.
"I swear, when I fix this thing up, first order'a business is to exterminate you."
"I should be safe, then."
"Oh, fuck you."
Pop!