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The partnership between Serpentine and Buddingtonite had long evolved from a forced connection to one formed of give and take. Together, they formed a cohesive whole, a body. It would be folly to try and clearly divide all that each contributed. It could perhaps be said that the quieter of the two was everything hard, concrete, physical - the muscle, the bone - while the louder everything soft, abstract, ethereal - the voice, the heart. If that comparison were accurate, then, both of them met in the brain, the physical and metaphysical center of any body.

Nowhere could this be seen more than in their attempts to act as one. Each of them came up with strategies to use in battle, strategies that played to their strengths in various circumstances. Many of these plans were scrapped from the get go for whatever reasons. Too much likelihood of casualty or death, no practical application, or the other partner simply did not like it. Serpentine liked the more practical aspects of these quiet times, but his nose crinkled as he looked over the most recent plans. Because Buddingtonite's favorite part was always in the naming.

"Banana Split," Serpentine murmured, tracing the movement of the maneuver with a finger. The rough sketch gave him an idea of where the name had come from. Two individuals at a starting place split in an elliptical pattern - one to the left, one to the right - before meeting again a further distance down. It was unusual in requiring them to seperate rather than stay together... but perhaps that was indicative of his friend's mental state. Which is why he did not roll his eyes or anything more than crinkle his nose - an effort to spare his perhaps still delicate feelings.

"Very well. I will go to the right." The green-and-gold clad captain rose from his seated position and brushed dirt and leaf debris from his pants. The park gave them their past chance at testing this particular strategy. It had the open space required with the fewest number of obstacles. Late at night, as it was now, there was little risk of interference and if anyone should come across them... then the two captains were both armed. He now waited for Buddingtonite's signal. Hopefully, the training would distract his friend's mind from other concerns.

"It already has a name - pincer attack," Serpentine pointed out. In truth, he didn't care what his partner called it as long as they could execute it successfully. He had not objected beyond a rolling of his eyes or a small sneer at "the Human Starfish" or their inaugural attack, "the Mullet." He even agreed that the codes they had developed for striking were effecient and used them with no fuss. "It's known to be effective without a gastronomical title."

He meandered towards the center of the park, feeling it would give them enough space to try the maneuver out. He narrowed his gaze to judge the distance, looking at the radius of the street lamps as well. He most certainly did not want to risk running into bushes, trees, or mud just because he could not see where he was going. After a moment of consideration, the rainbow-haired man backed up a couple of steps to give them a bit more space.

"No special toppings to use for signal?" Krishna was honestly surprised, but not complaining. He held his chin between his thumb and forefinger and frowned. "You may start. Signal... left, right?"

Serpentine was not the creative one of the group.

His ginger friend seemed more confusd and easily distracted than usual. He got caught up on the name, before... actually giving in? That was unusual. Then, he positively floundered over the code words and... forgot their admittedly sketchy plan of action?

"No." Serpentine cast his friend a look, folding his arms across his chest. A frown crossed his face as he tried to explain his reasoning; usually Buddingtonite did not require so much assistance in making his own plan work. "I take right flank; you take left. Do you not know your own plan?"

This whole turn of events was... discouraging. He looked his partner over and saw nothing physically wrong. Richard had suffered much, it was true, and perhaps it had affected him more mentally and spiritually than either of them wanted to admit. Weakness was dangerous, and in their line of work... potentially deadly. That was the reason he asked bluntly, "Are you sure you're ready?" As if to give explanation, he uncrossed a single hand and motioned in the other captain's direction, "You seem scatter-brained."

Serpentine endured the huff, the sigh, and the growl with his normal stoic expression. People were much harder to treat than plants. Plants did not have feelings or any way to hide what ailed them. Humans, and particularly Buddingtonite, seemed adept at both. That was part of what made watching them intriguing, but it was also troublesome. He did not follow his partner's example. The snake whip remained coiled at his side as he closed the distance between them.

Yes, Serpentine had insisted on keeping up their training to distract his friend from the stresses and worries of his life. However, he had also done it to see if the confectioner still felt invested in anything The shop was being repaired under the direction of a twin brother, Darren--Richard was having nothing to do with it. Their nightly escapades were becoming less and less frequent as the boomerang wielder excused himself for a variety of reasons. He was too busy, he had plans... and all too often, even more often than normal, he was too s**t faced to function. Krishna had often gone to his condo after a day of work to find various bottles drained and his partner lying in a crumpled pile on the floor next to the protective Baldwin.

Everyone had their own way of offering support. To the independent Krishna, who had always been taught to work hard for what he wanted... he offered a place to toil, to tire, to put pent up energy to use. Apparently, that was not what Buddingtonite needed. He shook his head against the accusation of word play. "I did nothing. I do not trivialize."

Now he was beside his partner again, and an accustory finger was pointed towards him. "I am not more critical; you are overly sensitive. We both know you have no other plans. Why lie?" His voice was not loud, but it was demanding.

The boomerang cracked against Serpentine's forehead. The force behind the blow was not significant to cause any real damage, but the Captain recoiled all the same. Fire appeared in his gold eyes. He had been patient. He had been understanding. In his way, he had been supportive. His reward for his care was assault?! If none of his tactics were working, then there was only one other course of action that remained. He punched Buddingtonite in the jaw.

He knew it was an abusive way to start, but he was also desperate. Desperate in a way that he had not been in many, many years. Nothing was working. The energy and life he had come to rely upon seemed to be dripping, slowly, stickily, like congeled blood or tree sap, away from his best friend. Krishna had protected him from the invasive questioning of the police. Serpentine guarded his shop during reconstruction. Why was he doing this? Why would he continue to shrink away, to hide, rather than simply be open with him? The green-and-cold clad Captain had always been open, from their very first meeting.

None of that was going to change tonight. The matter transcended a battle strategy now. Their partnership could not continue to support this strain of Buddingtonite's secrets. The wound needed to be cut open and drained.

Serpentine stalked towards his partner, words falling from his mouth with a frequency normally unheard. The acidity in them was all the more potent as they layered atop one another. "Darren fixes your shop. Baldwin guards your home. I protect you. What do you do? Drink. Wallow. Decay."

He cut himself off to address a part of Buddingtonite's speech that in particular enraged him, enraged him nearly as much as his aching forehead. "Baldwin is in danger? I only learn this tonight? Who would harm him--who would harm you? How am I to continue protecting you if you do not trust me?"

Nothing was going as it was supposed to go. Serpentine's fist tightened as he looked down at his partner, but he made no sign of striking again. He was watching. Watching as no shout of responsibility or protest came. Watching as a normally treasured hat went flying off with no apparent care. Watched as the defalted form of Buddingtonite sat itself up and started to speak.

Cold. Stoic. It was as if they had exchanged roles suddenly, and Serpentine was not enjoying walking a mile in Buddingtonite's uncomfortable shoes. He prefered his own boots. He scoffed at the other man as he walked over to retrieve the lost hat, "I broke no failure. Why would you be an exception?" He closed the remaining distance between them while listening to the ginger describe a tryst turned sour--not surprising, really, given the number of liasions. But if one had turned sour to the point of danger, why not tell him? "Give me his name. His description. He will no longer be a problem."

The green-and-gold clad Captain knelt to put the cap back on Buddingtonite's head. Yet, he did not rise afterwards. Serpentine moved to rest forehead against Buddingtonite's in a rare moment of intimacy. He was close enough to be struck again, with his most precious feature in range. He had already been struck once. For the proud, vain captain, this move signified a great deal of trust. His voice no longer held its normal bite despite his words as he murmured, "You are disgusting like this, Richard. Have you no pride? Or must I do everything for you?"

He felt the wince, but he did not break his contact. If it took this much to get Buddingtonite to open up about his problems, then he would endure it. His only move was to settle his legs into a slightly more comfortable position, as it appeared that he would not be leaving any time soon. The vain captain tried to ignore the throbbing in his forehead, the dirt and potential grass stains to his uniform. He cared immensely about such seeming trivialities but he tried not to let it show. His friend needed him now. Still, he scoffed at the first statement. "Naturally. We are ourselves. To wish else is foolish."

Serpentine had not expected to know the individual that his partner named right away. Yet, he did. Not Alois. Alois was an enigma, a shadowy figure. A spectre. But Bischofite? Bischofite he knew. "BISCHOFITE?!" The hoarse whisper was beyond a hiss, it was a guttural, primal sound.

The Captain did not break his affectonate position, but his golden eyes slammed shut. He was not afraid, but he was angry. He took in a long breath, almost a sigh, as he finally opened his eyes. It took a moment more for him to fully swallow back his rage. Control was important, both because expressing frustration was beneath him and because he feared his friend would feel it was directed at him. Serpentine explained, "He tried to kill me, Richard." Then, after a momentary pause, "He will be difficult prey for us."

Difficult prey, but not impossible. Serpentine already had a score to settle with the pyschotic general. Knowing that his partner was in danger only added fuel to the flames. The rainbow-haired man placed a hand on Buddingtonite's shoulder and squeezed, pointing out with more of his normal, wry tone, "I clean no mess of yours. We are one. We both clean."

The chuckle that fell from Buddingtonite's lips was one of the most precious sounds that the rainbow-haired captain had heard in a long while. It had taken his partner turning silent and morose for him to realize how much he missed the ever present chatter, the energy that came through in every word and motion. It had become a background, a comfortable white noise like rain when one was trying to fall asleep. Clearly these were indications of a job well done.

His throat was dry from having spoken as much as he had already, but Serpentine continued to speak because, almost as soon as that desired normalcy returned, his partner retreated into doubt and fear. He squeezed his friend's shoulder again and spoke slowly and clearly. "Afraid? No. Nor should you be. Be angry, a more productive emotion. Have faith in us. We will protect each other."

When asked for suggestions, Serpentine pulled his forehead away from Buddingtonite's to look him in the eye. He held up three fingers one at a time to tick off the components of his plan. "We report him. We train. We strike." As though to begin putting part of that plan in motion immediately, the captain rose from his position and dusted off his pants. Then, after making sure that the coiff of his hair was not ruined from their shared moment of affection, he gave a small smile. "I take the the right?"