Not knowing that Dabi had committed a crime gasp was the worst part of it. Petty thievery was the cornerstone of... Nothing really but they'd all done it. When he heard the door make its telltale sounds Shigaraki's attention was temporarily pulled from the RTS that he had changed over to. Pinkies up off the controller while looking over to see him come through the door. Not many other people would have come through their front door so brazenly and even if it hadn't been Dabi, it would have been the last mistake anyone had made in their life. That's how good the RNJesus of this game had been to him.
Lucky for everyone but Dabi who had to live there at times where he had to do things like retrieve items for an otherwise bratty leader, it wasn't a random stranger. Not so lucky for Tomura, well, sort of. Sort of until each of the packets were lost to gravity somewhere in his lap or beside him from the shaken-slappy sound of them hitting the side of his head and sliding down. Shigaraki drew in a long, tired breath, letting it out in similar style as it had been taken in.
Well, Dabi had at least gotten them. The thanks is the silence and the, "I left dinner on the counter." Dinner being the loose term when it had to do with just whatever had been left over after putting half of it on his plate. He was a villain not a pig, not unless he wanted the whole thing to himself, then he'd be the sort to have licked it right in front of them. "It's from the Chinese place." Speaking of licking, he picked up one of the packages, after pausing his game and opened it. Licking his finger before dipping it in and bringing it back to his mouth, he leaned his back against the place where someone's legs might hang down on the small couch.
Good yes, this was what he wanted. Maybe if he felt like using his absolutely perfectly healthy legs, he might even add water. Maybe.
Dabi honestly was surprised the first few times he came home to takeout on the table. Going their separate ways, as they usually did, he'd defaulted to grabbing shitty fast food from whatever was still open for late-night drunks, only to return to the apartment and be pointed to whatever was left in the kitchen. He got the message, eventually. Even cleaning up Shigaraki's leftovers is probably better than burgers and fries every night.
Amazingly, Shigaraki says nothing about the cocoa packets launched at his head—just as well—though in not leaving immediately, Dabi is treated to another endearing habit. He watches as the other tears open a packet and licks a finger to dip inside, sucking the cocoa powder off that way.
"That's disgusting," he observes from the doorframe. If that's business as usual, he doesn't even want to know the state of the leader's controller.
There was no way he was going to get up and actually make it. The decision about using his perfectly healthy all things considered body to get up and do something human on his day off wasn't made yet. This would have to do. Would have to do as if he wouldn't have done it down the line anyway. Mind that Dabi was probably right, at least half right, he was very careful to clean his controllers and probably took better care of them than himself aside the essentials.
"Not at all, it tastes pretty good." He knew what the other man had meant and could give a flying damn that he found it abhorrent. "Your loss." But, fine, he pushed himself up onto one knee while favouring the open package as not to spill it and plucked another from the place it had found on the couch when he stood up and gravity again took over. "It'll be your fault when it's ruined."
Shuffling himself toward the kitchen, the intent was clear that he was really actually just going to attempt something he often didn't care to do. Doing something himself if it wasn't driven by passion, desire or a march to his end goal. Something he didn't have much of here, all things considered so far.
Yeah, of course the powdered chocolate and sugar tastes good; he could ask a five-year-old and get the same answer. No doubt he would also most likely find a five-year-old eating cocoa powder out of the packet like a fucking cave troll, rather than a self-described 'final boss' who calls himself an adult.
But Dabi has little interest in actually policing what his 'roommate' eats, even though he fully suspects Shigaraki's diet consists of a dozen bags of chips a day—he comments just because he can, and because it gives him a small jolt of rare satisfaction to point out someone else performing an utter fuck-up of a human being. He's otherwise fully prepared to leave the man to his own euphoria, shoving fingerfuls of sugar into his mouth, but to Dabi's mild surprise, Shigaraki is actually prompted to move. Raising an eyebrow, Dabi watches as Shigaraki—with apparent displeasure—shuffles past him to the kitchen, and follows with some amusement.
"Don't blame me," he drawls to Shigaraki's back. "I ain't twisting your arm to make you drink it."
Dinner is a good incentive to leave Shigaraki alone. The takeout containers have haphazardly been left out on the counter, some with flaps open for Dabi to visually sort through their contents while the other man does whatever he has in mind. Make his hot cocoa like a normal person, perhaps?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
gaspwas the worst part of it. Petty thievery was the cornerstone of... Nothing really but they'd all done it. When he heard the door make its telltale sounds Shigaraki's attention was temporarily pulled from the RTS that he had changed over to. Pinkies up off the controller while looking over to see him come through the door. Not many other people would have come through their front door so brazenly and even if it hadn't been Dabi, it would have been the last mistake anyone had made in their life. That's how good the RNJesus of this game had been to him.Lucky for everyone but Dabi who had to live there at times where he had to do things like retrieve items for an otherwise bratty leader, it wasn't a random stranger. Not so lucky for Tomura, well, sort of. Sort of until each of the packets were lost to gravity somewhere in his lap or beside him from the shaken-slappy sound of them hitting the side of his head and sliding down. Shigaraki drew in a long, tired breath, letting it out in similar style as it had been taken in.
Well, Dabi had at least gotten them. The thanks is the silence and the, "I left dinner on the counter." Dinner being the loose term when it had to do with just whatever had been left over after putting half of it on his plate. He was a villain not a pig, not unless he wanted the whole thing to himself, then he'd be the sort to have licked it right in front of them. "It's from the Chinese place." Speaking of licking, he picked up one of the packages, after pausing his game and opened it. Licking his finger before dipping it in and bringing it back to his mouth, he leaned his back against the place where someone's legs might hang down on the small couch.
Good yes, this was what he wanted. Maybe if he felt like using his absolutely perfectly healthy legs, he might even add water. Maybe.
no subject
Amazingly, Shigaraki says nothing about the cocoa packets launched at his head—just as well—though in not leaving immediately, Dabi is treated to another endearing habit. He watches as the other tears open a packet and licks a finger to dip inside, sucking the cocoa powder off that way.
"That's disgusting," he observes from the doorframe. If that's business as usual, he doesn't even want to know the state of the leader's controller.
no subject
all things consideredbody to get up and do something human on his day off wasn't made yet. This would have to do. Would have to do as if he wouldn't have done it down the line anyway. Mind that Dabi was probably right, at least half right, he was very careful to clean his controllers and probably took better care of them than himself aside the essentials."Not at all, it tastes pretty good." He knew what the other man had meant and could give a flying damn that he found it abhorrent. "Your loss." But, fine, he pushed himself up onto one knee while favouring the open package as not to spill it and plucked another from the place it had found on the couch when he stood up and gravity again took over. "It'll be your fault when it's ruined."
Shuffling himself toward the kitchen, the intent was clear that he was really actually just going to attempt something he often didn't care to do. Doing something himself if it wasn't driven by passion, desire or a march to his end goal. Something he didn't have much of here, all things considered so far.
no subject
But Dabi has little interest in actually policing what his 'roommate' eats, even though he fully suspects Shigaraki's diet consists of a dozen bags of chips a day—he comments just because he can, and because it gives him a small jolt of rare satisfaction to point out someone else performing an utter fuck-up of a human being. He's otherwise fully prepared to leave the man to his own euphoria, shoving fingerfuls of sugar into his mouth, but to Dabi's mild surprise, Shigaraki is actually prompted to move. Raising an eyebrow, Dabi watches as Shigaraki—with apparent displeasure—shuffles past him to the kitchen, and follows with some amusement.
"Don't blame me," he drawls to Shigaraki's back. "I ain't twisting your arm to make you drink it."
Dinner is a good incentive to leave Shigaraki alone. The takeout containers have haphazardly been left out on the counter, some with flaps open for Dabi to visually sort through their contents while the other man does whatever he has in mind. Make his hot cocoa like a normal person, perhaps?