"I have a name."

"Oh, I know you do, Motherfucker."

There was a sigh and the hum of an insane magic user. He opened his mouth, and it seemed like she anticipated it because she said; "and I don't want to know it."

"You're a little ray of sunshine." He commented dryly. She threw him a humongous grin, reloading her hand cannon carefully, and then removing her gloves.

She wrapped a roll of bandages around her hand. "So I've been told. This has to be the tenth time you've shot my motherfucking hand. Same hand. Every time. The least you can do is switch it up a bit. Like..." She trailed off, watching him struggle in the bonds she had tied him in. "Why not switch it up a bit? Add some excitement to our relationship."

He recoiled, jerking his hands. "Relationship?" He questioned incredulously. Suddenly she was in front of him, her glowing eyes wide. Her breath smelled like cinnamon.

"You're in denial." She cocked her head sideways before nodding in complete understanding. "I get that." Her last sentence was soft. And Motherfucker almost thought she was sane. But then she stood quickly, walking to the other side of the room.

"I just want you to know, I love you." She said breathlessly with much emotion. How could the Vanguard stand her?

He scowled. "Why did I have to be paired with a woman like you?" He questioned, looking up at the ceiling.

"Well at least I know you think of me as a woman." She slid her hands over her curves he resisted watching her, was she ever serious? "Keep in mind, you shot me, AND THIS TIME WE WERE ON THE SAME TEAM!"

Motherfucker tapped his foot impatiently. "When will Jonah get back?"

Marabelle lowered her voice dangerously, adding a demonic edge. "Never. Flo ate him."

Motherfucker shifted relentlessly, ignoring her. He didn't question why he was tied up, because there were a million reasons the woman across from him could come up with. And he didn't want to know half of them.

She was dressed in lounge pants and a bright blue bandeau, which was unnerving to him, the fact she wasn't wearing a shirt.

Then she turned, and he saw the would on her arm that was oozing thick blood, staining her fluorescent skin. Her arm had been stabbed, cut into, mauled, and wasn't bandages. That's why she wasn't wearing a proper shirt.

"Marabell. Your arm." He used her name, which made her look up from securing her hand wound.

She crossed the kitchenette to him, waving her bandaged hand in his face. "Yea, I know. Fallen are sneaky." Marabell slid her hand down the side of his torso, and he tensed. She looped a finger trough his belt, slowly pulling out his throwing knife. "Here, Golden Boy." With the knife, she cut his bonds, and stood back up.

He stood, "Golden Boy? That's new. Can't say I don't enjoy it."

Marabell cackled, catching him off guard as she stabbed a cucumber. His eyes widened under his helmet. She was insane. Mad. Super charged with craziness.

The crazed Awoken woman sliced haphazardly across the black cutting board, and Motherfucker watched from a safe distance.

"I don't get you." He broke her cackling, and she stopping cutting, slowly putting down the knife and looked at him with a smile on her purple lips.

Her eyebrows rose. "No one does." It was one of the times she was serious, no crazed edge to her voice.

"Aren't Awoken supposed to be regal? Uldren would despise you." Motherfucker said lowly, watching her cut up other foods quickly and dangerously. She stuck the knife in between her sizeable breasts, using both hands to push all the vegetables into a pot.

"Me and Uldren actually get along." She quipped. And the man across from her stared at the sharp knife she stuck between her cleavage. "Quite well, actually."

Marabell Del Mar was an odd humanoid. Full figured for a Warlock, with wide hips, thick thighs, small waist, and large bust, she was not the stereotypical lanky Warlock. She was crazed, hating her own Ghost, anti-social, and seemingly touched by madness, he didn't know why he still hung around her. He also discovered her favorite color was blue, and she hates to be called short.

He watched her arm, still oozing red liquid.

"Why haven't you removed your mask? We're on Flo's ship. There isn't a lack of oxygen." She said, giving him an exaggerated stink eye.

"Because I know the second I do, you're going to throw a knife at my face." He said monotonously. She walked up to him, placing her steppy-stool Jonah had made for her down in front of Motherfucker, and stepped up so that she was near taller then the man in front of her.

Then, she pointed at her breasts. "Do you see this?" Motherfucker refused to look at her breasts.

"This knife. Is in between. My. Tits." She hopped off the stool, kicking it underneath the island and walked back to her meal. Puffing out a breath, she spooned dressing-drenched salad into two white plastic bowls, setting them on the island. He watched how her breasts moved with every step she took, but moved to where his bowl was.

Marabell placed a plate of diced tomatoes, olives, peppers, and a few other vegetables in front of him. She withdrew the knife from her breasts, throwing it into the sink.

"I want to know your name now." She said abruptly, sliding into the stool.

Motherfucker dumped all the olives into his small bowl. Marabell scowled, "Olive thief."

He ignored her, "Banner."

"Like..Bruce Banner." She summarized, a smirk on her plump lips. He cocked his head and she dismissed him with a wave of her hand, blood dripping onto the glass table.

She shoved a mouthful of leaves and dressing into her mouth, talking around the white dressing that dribbled down her chin.

"I hate salad." Marabell decided quickly, licking the excess white dressing. Banner rose a brow under his helmet at the crazy woman, who had a knife in between her tits, and who was trying to desperately reach the dressing that had somehow smudged on her nose with her tongue.

Then he looked at the small bowl of leaves, deciding if he was going to eat.

Marabell smacked her lips, daintily dotting her face with cheap napkins.

"I'm still calling you Motherfucker, Motherfucker." She clarified as she stood up, bouncing cheerily to the counter where she shoved the rest of her salad down the drain. Banner sighed dejectedly.