killin' my ego - cold front

[Grey]

It's rare for Bakugou to feel cold. Not even the coldest winter could make him shiver because his blood was always so warm, usually boiling that it sometimes made him nauseous and sick to feel angry. He simply can't help the fact that his emotions were bound to his fire elementals, his rage often fueling the heat which crackled and swam within him. It was all in the lungs which were like fans, feeding the flames and allowing them to grow, to swarm and concentrate before he blew jets of flame from his lips. It was a cool feeling, actually. It made him feel like a real dragon, a powerful beast among men. And yet, in this world, others could be special for not being powerful. Heroes don't seem to matter like in the real world. Then again, maybe he's glad heroes weren't a title or occupation here. No one would give it to him. The Typhoon, being pirates, were more like the villains. But he can't help but say he's grown attached to this way of living. Besides, he tries to tell himself, it's not as if he's tortured anyone or killed someone. He's still clean and his old way of life was long gone behind him.

Luciferus' words were indeed true. It was definitely an overwhelming scent of pumpkin but maybe it was because Bakugou had never really been a fan of such overwhelmingly sweet odours. Another thing he isn't a fan of were those atrocious Ugg boots. An alabaster breath escapes through his nostrils, smoke dissipating into the colder climate. "You should throw those out," he says after Ikaia's question, referring directly to the shoes that the sled dog had. Victor was surely a strange canine to him.