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His buzzing phone lay ignored on the end table of a small commons area near the Life Labs. Why was a Death Hunter there? ******** you, that's why. Maybe he had s**t to do there, okay?

Otto squirmed restlessly on a couch, unable to find a comfortable spot to relax thanks to his still healing arm in a sling. He'd be cursing his own stupidity for the entirety of his healing process. Cuts and bruises had mostly gone, but that shoulder just didn't seem to stop aching.

Fine. He'd just have to lay there uncomfortably. Maybe he should have gone to his own room after all. Especially since someone was blasting the worst dance music he'd ever heard. It was worse than DDR racks.

What was that horrible music? Where was it coming from? Why? Wasn't this area usually a little more... quiet? Otto scowled, leaning over the back of the couch to wherever that music was coming from. Maybe some new chic got a hold of some dollar store CD bin...

"Turn that s**t off!"

Otto's face scrunched up in frustration, not able to pick a real fight with Rep due to being ha;f his size, not nearly as strong, and having a handicap due to injury. However, he couldn't be as sassy either since he was often gobsmacked when he was mad.

Obviously, sacrifices needed to be made.

Otto dipped back behind the couch for a few long moments, seemingly having given up on Rep. However, he popped back up again, and chucked something at Rep's head with his good arm.

It was an apple with a carving in it that crudely read; "Turn It Off"

Winner.

"Yeah, I like music. Real music. Before I saw you sittin there I thought maybe they started letting 8 year old girls into Deus." He snided smugly, still peeking over the couch as if it was his fortress tower.

"But oh. Its just Rep."

Otto wouldn't allow himself to fall for that. He'd not be coming out from his 'hiding spot' any time soon.

"Who the ******** are the Spice Girls?" And Bitti cried writing that line Otto snarked with a raised brow, not having grown up during that fad at all. It helped he'd never really gone to a proper school enough to catch most fads.

"Real music is..." He started smugly, though having to really give it some thought before he ran his mouth some more. He was so ready to make a jab at electronic s**t not being real enough, but some of his favorite songs had a bit of it tossed in. No need to shoot himself in the foot any more than he always did.

"Is like.. at least a few instruments that don't sound like.. whatever the ******** makes those annoying dinging sounds in yer music. Honestly, you struck me more as someone who'd be into something more badass than Fairy Tea Party s**t. Ya'lways goin' on about how Gay everyone else is, so why is your music even gayer?"

Otto leaned his chin on the back of the couch, trying to think of bands he liked that were better than Rep's music collection. There was so many. "Ain't there any dance type music that at least has drums or guitar in it?"

"Better'n bein' old." He sniped back, blue eyes narrowed into slits.

And here was why Otto should just get his mouth runic'd closed. He'd once again pissed off someone who could kill him with a thumb and forefinger as their only weapon. He would be scared, and maybe he was a little, but instead he just stared boredly at the red headed beast of a man.

"What kind of gangsters listen to bubble pop?" He asked rudely, making up a name for the music since he didn't know what else to call it.

"Tch. Whatever, man. I got plenty of taste. I just ain't gunna share any of it with ya cause yer brain's too squashed up from twinkle fairy dance songs to process how awesome it is."

Otto watched Rep approach almost in slow motion; like a truck that was coming to run him down but he was just so mesmerized he couldn't budge. He really had a way with people. A way to get them riled up.

"Yeah, sorry dude. Cael beat ya to the punch." Otto sassed back, wiggling the fingers of the arm currently in a sling. Had he taken offense to what Rep was saying? Absolutely. It showed in the way Otto's brow kept twitching.

Otto's icy gaze fell to Rep's attire, his lip curling in judgmental disgust. "I ain't flouncin' around in friggin' pashmina, Twinkle Toes."

"Don't matter if its yers or not! You're the one wearing it." Otto sassed back with a heightened tone. He took offense to Rep's contorted view of Otto's attire. Sure, he didn't put intense amounts of attention in his daily wear, but he wasn't some 1950's toddler in a cartoon show. Or whatever era Rep was OBVIOUSLY from. Dig dig dig.

Otto's eyes bugged out of his skull as Rep launched a couch at him. A. Friggin. Couch.

The teen yelped and dodged out of the way and onto the floor, aiming to land on his good side. With a grunt he landed, scurrying to his feet and glaring daggers at the red head. "Lemme know when yer done yer little tantrum, diaper baby! Maybe I'll let ya borrow my tunes so you can learn what real men listen to!"

<>

"Take a vote from the rest of the island and lemme know the results. Both yer tastes are s**t." Did Otto really care what they wore? No, but he was in fight mode. Fight mode meant make as many digs as he could. Honestly, Rep could wear a tutu and the most Otto would do is wonder how much he'd had to drink.

"Now that you're tellin' me to bring it, I don't wanna no more." Otto griped in a huff, sticking his good hand in his pocket since he couldn't cross his arms. "Listen to your dumb music all ya want, just don't subject it to the unsuspecting masses. Ever hear of headphones?"