HARPER
Gods, but the man is gorgeous. And that's fair how? Truly everyone in Caido is excruciatingly attractive, and Harper wonders if it functions as some sort of purgatory for disastrous bisexuals like himself. Constant torture with no reward. Shaking himself mentally from that particular spiral lest he get caught staring dopily into Deimos' stern face, Harper moves to catch up to the taller man. "I'm Harper," he introduces himself instead when prompted, smile warm and inviting as always. Lifting a hand habitually to shake Deimos' if the General is so accommodating.
Obligingly moving when the man invites him inside, Harper's sharp blue eyes habitually scan every corner as he steps inside. Plotting escape routes, footholds, and tactical options alike before he manages to shut down that section of his mind in favor of appearing a bit more normal. Not that Deimos seems particularly interested in him, which Harper is oddly grateful for as he watches the man sift through his belongings. "A few people thought I might benefit from meeting you, or joining your ranks. I grew up as an acrobat, and was trained -" his voice chokes for a moment on the thick memories in his throat, memories only Kiada has been privy to so far, "- I was trained in the ways of assassination, and later in vigilantism. I've trained quite a few young hopefuls myself, both superpowered and mundane, and I'd be happy to help out around here. But even if you can just offer me some quality sparring, I'd appreciate being able to keep myself in shape." He isn't coming her to undermine Deimos' efforts or steal his students after all. But sometimes he wakes up aching with the itch to wrap his hands and beat the living hell out of something. A darker inclination that he can only run so many miles to try and drown out. Hopefully this place, this man, will offer him a better alternative. A more familiar past-time.
Obligingly moving when the man invites him inside, Harper's sharp blue eyes habitually scan every corner as he steps inside. Plotting escape routes, footholds, and tactical options alike before he manages to shut down that section of his mind in favor of appearing a bit more normal. Not that Deimos seems particularly interested in him, which Harper is oddly grateful for as he watches the man sift through his belongings. "A few people thought I might benefit from meeting you, or joining your ranks. I grew up as an acrobat, and was trained -" his voice chokes for a moment on the thick memories in his throat, memories only Kiada has been privy to so far, "- I was trained in the ways of assassination, and later in vigilantism. I've trained quite a few young hopefuls myself, both superpowered and mundane, and I'd be happy to help out around here. But even if you can just offer me some quality sparring, I'd appreciate being able to keep myself in shape." He isn't coming her to undermine Deimos' efforts or steal his students after all. But sometimes he wakes up aching with the itch to wrap his hands and beat the living hell out of something. A darker inclination that he can only run so many miles to try and drown out. Hopefully this place, this man, will offer him a better alternative. A more familiar past-time.
Pain is a well-intentioned weatherman
Predicting God as best he can
Predicting God as best he can
