I know what you did last New Tick

[directors_cut]

Who: Billy Loomis, OTA
What: Arm Practice
Where: The Agrii Ship
When: During New Tick Part Two
Warnings: Billy Loomis

It took a frustrating amount of coordination to line the digits of his new arm up with the button to start with, and now Billy was working on maintaining the pressure needed to actually push the damn thing so he could 'enjoy' some protein paste. He wanted to hurl the damn bowl held in his good hand against the wall, but if he didn't learn the basics of making this prosthetic work then he was never going to be able to use his other gifts. And he very much wanted to make use of them.

He was doing all right when the pressure shifted, arm jolting against the machine and falling to the floor, rolling away while Billy kicked the base of the machine in frustration.

"...Can you hand me that?" he asked tensely.

Comments

[tempredmental]

Of course. Keith stared at the arm for a second.

What would Shiro do?

He shifted one of his crutches so he could bend down to pick it up. Then, held it out.

"I gotta hand it to you... you seem to be handling this pretty well."

Did he go there? Oh, he did. Probably not the best idea, and he was not Shiro. His delivery likely needed work.

[directors_cut]

Oh, Billy'd gotten more than his share of jokes from Stu, but hit a little different coming from someone he doesn't know nearly as well, and he gave a measured frown. He didn't have a good baseline for an appropriate, but he suspected the anger he felt was probably more than was typically acceptable, forcing a dry laugh out as he accepted the arm.

"Funny. Haven't heard those ones before."

[tempredmental]

Keith gave a half-hearted shrug.

"Sorry... just a thing, I guess. My brother makes bad puns like that about his own arm. He's better at it." Keith was willing to admit when he was bad at something. In fact, he tended to say he was bad at things more often than not unless it was something he was absolutely sure he was good at.

"So, uh... need... need some help?" He stopped himself from asking if the guy needed a hand. Besides, Keith might be on crutches, but he could at least push a button.

[directors_cut]

"My friend does the same thing." It's a bit dry, but at least he doesn't seem mad about it.

"Just trying to get used to using this thing," Billy said, finally getting it back in place. He spared a short glance at the crutches, and though he knew very well why he was on them, he arched a brow, giving them a short nod. "What happened?"

[tempredmental]

Keith actually hesitated for a split second, and then took a breath, letting it out in a small sigh.

"I'm guessing you heard about the fire in the Green section," he said. It wasn't like Leo had kept quiet about it, yelling over the network like he had. "One of the beams from the roof of that building came down on my leg."

But turnabout was fair play, yeah? He nodded back, indicating the guy's arm.

"What about you?"

[directors_cut]

"Ohh," Billy did a pretty convince wince of sympathy, "Yeah, I heard a bit about it. That's gotta be scary."

Following the gaze, he supplied, "I got bit. During the whole zombie thing. Didn't wanna turn into one of those things, so..." Well, the end of that is pretty much evident, isn't it?

[tempredmental]

Scary... yeah. That was one way to put it. Considering what had happened with Keith's dad, it had been surprisingly triggering after the fact. He just nodded a little bit.

"Yeah, that makes sense..." he said. "I didn't think that kind of thing actually worked... like, it was just a thing in TV shows."

[target_audience]

"Take a chill pill, dude." The kick had rung out across the cafeteria, as loud as the clatter of plastic across the floor that Stu tried to put a swift stop to, swinging down to gather up the dislodged arm as he continued his lope toward Billy, a flailing cacophony of limbs and now with one more. "You're going to scare the chicks." He gave a pirouette around his fuming friend to lean against the machine, lifting up the arm so that its hand flopped around on its plastic wrist, giving a taunting wave, then aiming one of its awkwardly splayed fingers for Billy's flaring nostril with the tight, anxious giggle of someone who knew he was going to get in trouble.

[directors_cut]

Billy's eyes narrowed slowly, letting Stu get away with quite a bit before he snatched the arm out of his hands and gave him a few good whacks with it.

"Will you stop fucking around," he hissed, cheeks faintly hot. He didn't like how dependent this left him.

[target_audience]

The pitch of Stu's laugh only increased, even as he flinched, then fully crumpled into a defensive hunch under the fake-arm flapping, like he was braving a complete assault. In that position, the moment Billy's slapping let up, Stu bowling into him was like a football tackle into the food dispenser machine, shoulder to Billy's gut to make the whole structure rattle. Stu's arm stayed looped loosely around his waist as he straightened, looming close enough that Billy's hair made his nose twitch as he said, "You hungry, buddy? We can get you some chow. These guys'll make a burger for you, better than the Woodsboro caf."

[directors_cut]

Billy was never really in the mood for Stu's roughhousing, not outwardly at least, making a face and elbowing Stu sharply in the ribs the moment he let up. But he didn't push him off, and that was tantamount to permission with them.

"Anyone could make a burger better than that," he grumbled, shaking his head. "No, I'm just trying to practice with this thing. I can't press a button with the thing yet, how am I supposed to do anything else?"

[target_audience]

This wasn't exactly a problem that Stu understood, though he braced his elbow on the top of the machine to prop up his head and look wide-eyed and engaged. His focus darted from Billy's face, down to his hand and the fake one that he clutched, then the buttons, and he bit his lip with a noisy, sucking inhale. This was a monumental discovery, after all, that had to be well considered before he jammed one finger onto the button, letting the paste slop down freely onto the counter, and the floor in wet splatters. When he released the button, it was with a flair of his fingers, a magic trick. Look ma, only one hand. "What d'you even need two hands for?" he said. "Your dick's not that big."