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It sure sucked having a dislocated shoulder, stuck in a sling for a good week or so. But on the plus side, he was alive and not a puddle of hunter meat on the training grounds like the unnamed Life Tech. Besides, it was only his left arm. Since Otto was right handed, everything was okay, right?

Right..?

It was funny how one took for granted what was done with two hands. Now he almost felt bad for poking fun at Rin for having one arm.

...almost.

Otto grumbled, uncomfortable and sore, as he meandered the Death Division's general tromping grounds. He had things to ponder, a Sam to eventually text. s**t to do. And not will or patience to go through with it. If only he had someone to take his verbal aggression out on?

If only...

Oh look, a verbal punching bag.

Except it really wasn't. "What happen to you? Got trampled during rush hour in the cafeteria? Sorry I missed it." If it was Caelius again, he'd start to worry the man was itching to kill off his whole division.

kurotomato

"Yer right, I don't care." Otto sort of lied, "Better you than me, anyway." Because if there was one trip he wished he didn't remember, it was his vacation in the Sahara. To be honest he wouldn't wish that on his worst enemies. Or would he? Maybe. Depends on his mood.

Well, that came from left field.

Otto double taked, not sure if that question had really been meant for him. In fact, Otto looked over his shoulder for a friendlier party than himself. When he saw no one was there, he turned a distrustful glance at the slightly shorter hunter.

"Sore. Irritable." He grouched bluntly, "You got a concussion or sumthin'?" Why else would Gale attempt pleasantries?

"Figures. Hey do me a favour and take a good long nap." He snarked with a scowl, knowing full well sleeping was the last thing someone with a concussion should do.

Otto shrugged with one shoulder. "Guess they tossed you through the ringer real good. Now I'm real sorry I missed seein' it." Mmm yes. He could almost forget his own pain by poking fun at Gale's. "Anybody else get the honor, or are you the only one lucky enough to have some play time with the ponies?"

Rude may as well be his middle name.

"Yeaaahh... everyone loves Ponyville." Otto mumbled, levelling his icy gaze at Gale with disinterest. "Did anythin' get accomplished other than gettin' yer asses kicked?" As if Otto had any right to preach productivity, when the assignment he'd been given months ago was still a blank sheet of paper.

Otto scowled intensely, "Yeah. Pretty ********' familiar." He muttered darkly, his scar on his neck itching and burning suddenly with the memory.

"So what now? Wanderin' around gettin yer overwhelmin' Britishness all over the Death Lounge?"

Otto, offended as always, scoffed at Gale's remark. His nose scrunched up and his eyes narrowed, "What, overthinking? I ain't a total airhead, yanno." Everyone he hated seemed to assume he was stupid. And most times he tried not to believe it, but others it just seemed too real.

"But sure, why not. Go ahead and assume I let my worldly worries roll right offa my back. If my stress and worries were rocks and boulders I'd toss'em in yer butt ugly house to make me feel better." Just saying it made him feel better.

But oops.. wasn't Otto supposed to be nice to Gale? Isn't that what Eva told him to do?

. . .

Crap.