IC Contact (Folkmore)

[pullit]

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[devilblooded]

More like your old man doesn't like to use technology, in case you didn't notice.

( Vergil's a nerd but he's not that kind of nerd. )

I figured you'd respond quicker than me shouting across the skies in hopes he might catch my voice on the wind somewhere.

[pullit]

Right. But if he was around, would you have asked him? [He's mostly teasing.] Probably could've Judgment Cut this thing from across the room...

[He grips the jar and holds it down to the counter.] Can you wiggle at all?

[devilblooded]

Sure can.

( To which he wiggles his body, damn well knowing that's not what the kid meant. )

[pullit]

Are you five?

[For that, he flicks Dante in the side of the head.]

Your hand, dumbass!

[devilblooded]

Ow.

( Spoiler: it didn't actually hurt. But sure, ok. He wiggles his hand around a little in the jar, stirring up the juice and seasonings floating around. )

My fingers are probably lookin' like raisins by now.

[pullit]

Yeah, bet they're all pickled, too.

[Right. Clearly, this is a vacuum problem.] Okay. Plan B. One sec.

[He heads for the silverware drawer and digs until he finds a butter knife, nice and dull. Then he returns to grab Dante by the wrist, stilling his hand so he can slide the knife in alongside his hand.]

Hold still.

[devilblooded]

You are gonna cut my hand off. Why I oughta...

( He knows he's not, he's just being his usual self when... in a pickle. )

[pullit]

Quit whining. I have on good authority that it'll grow back.

[It's actually to break any vacuum seal by pushing some air between Dante's hand and the side of the jar, which ought to at least loosen it up a bit.]

[devilblooded]

Says who. Do I look like your old man's kid?

( That's when he starts to lean away, cringing and whining and waving his other hand around. )

Look out for the blood!

[pullit]

I've watched you grow back a ribcage! If I can regrow a hand, so can you!

[He reaches up and flicks him in the head again.] Quit dicking around and pull your hand out.

[devilblooded]

I can't!

( A few little twists here and there and his hand still remains in the pickle juice. )

[pullit]

For fuck's sake...

[Now he grabs Dante by the wrist and tugs him over to the sink, turning on the cold water to run it over his wrist and the jar.]

You still can't budge it at all?

[devilblooded]

If I did, don't you think it'd be out by now?

( But there he goes, following the kid along, dragging his feet some as he does. )

Why don't I just smash it on the edge of the counter and call it a day?

[pullit]

You were free to do that the whole time, if you wanted to.

[When the cold water still doesn't work, Nero finally huffs and lets go.]

Okay, fuck it. Put your hand out over here.

[devilblooded]

( A blink of those blue eyes, he goes and does as the kid asks, eyebrow raised. )

What are you gonna do?

[pullit]

Smash it, without shattering it into a million pieces into your hand.

[He holds Dante's hand over the sink, then with a flash of blue one wing appears on his shoulders. The claws reach out and fasten over the jar with a strong, solid grip. It takes a moment for him to get the pressure and positioning he needs, but then with a little twitch of his lip, he clamps down.

The sharp claws shatter the jar into two clean pieces, which come apart in a gush of pickle juice like an expertly-cracked eggshell. The pickles fall into the sink as he pulls away the glass.]

Ta-daaa...

[devilblooded]

( Well would you look at that...

Bracing for the worst, he blinks in mild surprise when his hand isn't filled with shards of glass and blood. Sure, he's had much worse before and yeah, he'll heal, but. Doesn't mean he enjoys it. So, with hand free, he wiggles his fingers, giving a curious little hum then before he smiles over to the kid. )

Wow. Thanks, kid.

( To which he claps his pickle soaked hand down on Nero's shoulder there... then ruffles his hair with that same pickle juice hand. )

[pullit]

[Nero does not look completely surprised that his plan worked. But there is a decisively confident, pleased grin on his face when it does. His wing deposits the broken jar on the counter, and he folds his arms cockily.]

Easy. Should've started with that, huh?

[And he's so enamored by the praise and Dante patting him on the shoulder, he doesn't notice until he smells the vinegar and dill that he's getting pickle juice rubbed in his hair.]

Hey!! I don't want to smell like pickles too!

[devilblooded]

No? Oopsies!

( Said as he ruffles the kid's hair even harder — pats his cheek with some pickle juice fingers, too! )

[pullit]

[Swat, swat. Fuss, fuss.]

God, you're such a child!

[Once he wrestles away from Dante's pickle-grip he retracts his wing, then returns to the sack on the counter.]

Here's your other pickles. Maybe I ought to pour them out in a bowl for you this time?

[devilblooded]

You still love me though.

( Said in a sing-song voice as he makes his way over to there to take his new jar of pickles, pops the jar open with eyes bright, and sticks his hand on in for one. )

[pullit]

Unky Pickle-Fingers.

[And then Dante goes to stick his hand right back in.]

Ah ah ah ah ah! [He swats Dante's hand to discourage him.] Get a fork, dumbass!

[devilblooded]

( Rude. But sure, he takes his hand out — shakes the pickle juice off at the kid on purpose, then goes and finds himself a fork. )

So, hey. Can I ask ya something?

( You know. All casual as he leans there on the counter and helps himself to a pickle via fork. )

[pullit]

[A gear turns in Nero's head. He briefly wears the most withering, creased-brow, lips-parted, Vergilest expression of bafflement you ever did see.

But it's brief, as he grabs a wet paper towel to wipe some of the pickle brine out of his hair.]

Yeah, always? What's up?

[devilblooded]

( Wow, the kid really is his father. So much so that he can’t help but smile a bit as he crunches away on his pickle stabbed with a fork. Taking a second, he twists some — leans back against the counter a bit instead, and studies his bitten pickle that he holds in front of him, slowly twisting it back and forth. )

You think your old man would like Kyrie?