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Gabe was on a hunt. It was pretty rare for him to outside, honestly- he was pretty pallid to begin with, being a ginger and all, but the late nights spent raiding and avoiding the real world certainly didn't help. Especially since he'd graduated, last year.

Double especially because he hadn't gotten a job, because he was one lazy ********.

But now?

Now, World of Pandas was ******** sucktacular. Guild Wars 2 blew donkey cocks, and Eve Online was painful to play because of one word; Goons. Goons he used to get along with but then, maybe, accidentally got on the wrong side of, in an incident involving a webcam, a cucumber, and some lewd karaoke.

No, he's so not giving you the longer version of the story. It was mortifying.

Anyway.

All this s**t meant he was exploring the outside world. Being...productive and trying to gather energy, instead of being one of the laziest ******** in the entire Negaverse. It was a wonder they hadn't euthanised him yet. Seriously. Like, they should have put him down like that lame old pony with the bent back that clearly can't be used for more than glue.

He briefly wondered if the Negaverse turned their agents into glue, or if they just turned into energy-goop and went back to the mothership or whatever it was that was their ruler...and while he did, the ******** ran straight into some girl.

"Dude," he said, blinking owlishly. "Eye-are-ehl seriously needs to take away its player collision. This is a huge pea-eye-tee-aye."

Graphite scoffed at the girl. "Uh, hello?" He gestured at his pinstriped outfit, as if to say, I am clearly of your faction. Duh.

"No, I don't think so. I would say that I am so done with this notoriety rep grind, but I still have a sick mount to get. And when I say mount, I really just mean a promotion. Duh."

The redhead brushed his nails off on his collar. "My name is Graphite, Lieutenant, and since we're on the same side I shouldn't need to get a translator or something. Who're you?"

Some b***h in his leveling area. Great.

A roll of the eyes, and then a clacking of his tongue piercing against his lower jaw. "Tch."

Graphite laid a hand on her shoulder, shaking her a little.

"Mount, as in promotion. Keep up. Patch to the latest version, for Diablo's sake."

He paused for a moment. "Gypsum? Do you go full Darkmoon Faire? Is your weapon a tarot card?"

"Sure," Graphite replied with a nod, making what equivocated, in his mind, to the not-bad-Obama-face.

"Gee-tee-eff-oh my place then, pubby."

And then, he flicked her in the forehead.

"That," Graphite replied airily, "Is what your mom said last night."

Oh, he wished he had shades. He wished he had shades, like, so bad. So he could lower them. Or put them on. Either way, it would have been entirely for effect, even if it was, like, two am. That was totally irrelevant.

He smirked, and pulled forth his weapon from the hammer space that somehow existed. He didn't question the magic: it was a trope, like all things. It got too meta for him.

Unfortunately, while rummaging around in aforementioned space, Graphite got himself a swift kick to the family jewels.

"JESUS, girl," he yelped-- she hadn't kicked his nuts directly, but had definitely gotten around his groin.

"I NEVER SAID I WAS PEA-VEE-PEA ENABLED, WOMAN. OR THAT I ACCEPTED YOUR DUEL REQUEST."

But, like in Borderlands 2, to show he accepted the challenge, Graphite had to melee her back. So the Lieutenant tried to smack her right back-- with his giant bottle. It wasn't even a euphemism.

"Dude," he wheezed, jumping around like a wallaby let loose in the wild after a covert operation to steal and consume energy drinks. "Is your weapon SERIOUSLY your shoes?" Graphite squeaked between hops around.

His bottle laid abandoned at his feet, for now, and it was a wonder he didn't trip over the thi--

Ah. There he went. The Lieutenant slipped on it, rolling it forward towards Gypsum at alarming speed, his body careening in the same direction.

"Oh for the love of---"

CRASH.