( the bartender immediately recoils behind them, once bakugou's got a fist full of his shirt--his whole body bends forward, dragged down, and though it irks him in a way he can't quite decipher, he lets it happen. his arms fall, loose at his sides, while bakugou goes on his angry tirade, and his eyes roll, out towards the beach, towards the ocean, towards the hot sun, pooling in the sky. a part of him wants to light bakugou ablaze and leave it at that; the rest of him thinks he's better off not killing the kid, given what he knows about it all. he doesn't want to end up in jail here--again--and more than that, doesn't want to have to deal with the repercussions of whatever might happen to bakugou when he comes back, slightly wrong, slightly off.
there's a scoffing breath at the demand, though he pretends to consider it. he knows that he could easily get his face blasted off here, but does that even matter? like always, the risk is worth the reward--or punishment--as one of his hands lifts, just slightly, a touch of two fingertips against the folded edge of that robe, pooled over bakugou's hips and thighs.
with one little hiss, a tiny tendril of smoke, he lets the material catch up in flame. )
My clothes? ( loudly, as the material starts to crackle with blue fire; it's not like he's thrown it fully into the chaos of burning fabric, but if bakugou doesn't toss the thing off soon, then he's going to end up with more issues than he likely wants. no one wants a fire started around their dick like that.
with a long sigh, he lifts his other hand to close it around bakugou's wrist in silent threat. ) They're in my room.
You want them? I'll tell you where to go. But you need to back the fuck off.
no subject
there's a scoffing breath at the demand, though he pretends to consider it. he knows that he could easily get his face blasted off here, but does that even matter? like always, the risk is worth the reward--or punishment--as one of his hands lifts, just slightly, a touch of two fingertips against the folded edge of that robe, pooled over bakugou's hips and thighs.
with one little hiss, a tiny tendril of smoke, he lets the material catch up in flame. )
My clothes? ( loudly, as the material starts to crackle with blue fire; it's not like he's thrown it fully into the chaos of burning fabric, but if bakugou doesn't toss the thing off soon, then he's going to end up with more issues than he likely wants. no one wants a fire started around their dick like that.
with a long sigh, he lifts his other hand to close it around bakugou's wrist in silent threat. ) They're in my room.
You want them? I'll tell you where to go. But you need to back the fuck off.