11-16-2018, 02:24 PM
[div style="margin: 0 auto; width: 65%; font-family: timesnewroman; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;"]Lucky for Axle, this wasn't the sort of situation where Jim would pick a fight himself out of anything but panic. Which, god. There's something entirely animalistic about his lashing out and he doesn't like it. It's harder to take reign of his own emotions than it should be, which, honestly, fuck. He was supposed to be reasonable.
... For as little as he cares for Axle's hostility, though, Jim thinks he can relate. And for that matter, he doesn't seem horrible, what with how he actually answers Jim's question reasonably. It was like .. a feedback loop, then. Jim was upset, so the stranger was upset, and then Jim got more upset. This was fair. Jim attempts to force his hackles to lower, but is only semi-successful. God, it sucks not having proper control over his own body, or his behavior.
"Interesting name," He manages, forcing his voice to be level. There's still an edge of anxiety to it, but he seems to be able to settle better now that the threat of right-away-immediately being attacked had passed. His grin, when he attempts it, is awkward and not-quite-right. Both in the fact that he's still wary, and also that he barely has passing knowledge on how to control his fucking body. Dogs can't grin, except he can, which is weird. "Lucky me. Except, no, I wouldn't still be in this if I knew how to get out, would I?" .. And, at long last, he manages to get a lid on his fucking emotions. There's an edge of humor in his voice as he, against better judgement, yanks on his paw again. Yikes, ow. He's not quite sure what he's stuck on, considering that his paw is in the mud. But either way, it's around his ankle, and he can't feel his fucking paw.
God.
.. He should probably calm down. It's not like he hasn't been in worse situations, no matter how inconvenient this one is. It's just his paw.
God, he misses his crew right now.
He just needs ... something to convince the stranger to help him. Except Jim owns literally nothing. Very gently, he tugs on his paw again, noting when it stops, when the grip tightens. He grimaces and puts his paw back down.
It's just economics. People don't do stuff for free, especially not people this wary. He sighs.
"I don't exactly have anything to offer for helping me get out, unless you have an idea," He says on a whim. Leaving this place he is so clearly trespassing? He wonders what their regulations for joining are. He won't admit the idea has appeal, even though it's filthy and it got his paw fucking stuck. The fact is, though, that Jim has no idea how to survive on his own like this. He's getting himself into trouble without his crew to regulate him, just like he did before the 'Fleet. And it's just so lonely. He'd gotten used to being surrounded by people, it was just kind of ... jarring ... once he was alone again. Hence his lashing out at the world.
... For as little as he cares for Axle's hostility, though, Jim thinks he can relate. And for that matter, he doesn't seem horrible, what with how he actually answers Jim's question reasonably. It was like .. a feedback loop, then. Jim was upset, so the stranger was upset, and then Jim got more upset. This was fair. Jim attempts to force his hackles to lower, but is only semi-successful. God, it sucks not having proper control over his own body, or his behavior.
"Interesting name," He manages, forcing his voice to be level. There's still an edge of anxiety to it, but he seems to be able to settle better now that the threat of right-away-immediately being attacked had passed. His grin, when he attempts it, is awkward and not-quite-right. Both in the fact that he's still wary, and also that he barely has passing knowledge on how to control his fucking body. Dogs can't grin, except he can, which is weird. "Lucky me. Except, no, I wouldn't still be in this if I knew how to get out, would I?" .. And, at long last, he manages to get a lid on his fucking emotions. There's an edge of humor in his voice as he, against better judgement, yanks on his paw again. Yikes, ow. He's not quite sure what he's stuck on, considering that his paw is in the mud. But either way, it's around his ankle, and he can't feel his fucking paw.
God.
.. He should probably calm down. It's not like he hasn't been in worse situations, no matter how inconvenient this one is. It's just his paw.
God, he misses his crew right now.
He just needs ... something to convince the stranger to help him. Except Jim owns literally nothing. Very gently, he tugs on his paw again, noting when it stops, when the grip tightens. He grimaces and puts his paw back down.
It's just economics. People don't do stuff for free, especially not people this wary. He sighs.
"I don't exactly have anything to offer for helping me get out, unless you have an idea," He says on a whim. Leaving this place he is so clearly trespassing? He wonders what their regulations for joining are. He won't admit the idea has appeal, even though it's filthy and it got his paw fucking stuck. The fact is, though, that Jim has no idea how to survive on his own like this. He's getting himself into trouble without his crew to regulate him, just like he did before the 'Fleet. And it's just so lonely. He'd gotten used to being surrounded by people, it was just kind of ... jarring ... once he was alone again. Hence his lashing out at the world.
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[align=center]![[Image: ezgif-7-f3e523f182d0.gif]](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/463081660515221505/684393717838249984/ezgif-7-f3e523f182d0.gif)