[ She's better than he might have expected, but there has always been a part of Jim that relished a challenge - here, it's twisted, a demented shadow of his normal curiosity. The nails continue firing even as she takes cover - embedding themselves in the metal sheet of the prisoners' cage. Well, that answers the question of whether or not Jim was willing to injure the people being kept there, with the answer being a no-hesitation yes. They cry out, frightened, but Jim doesn't seem deterred.
He tilts his head as Gwen lands on the catwalk, eyes still obscured by the goggles. There's something other about the motion - not quite human, perhaps, and definitely not Jim. He discards the megaphone carelessly over the side of the railing, the crack and splinter of it on hard pavement sending another wave of cries through the captives - whatever Jim and Spock have been doing with them, they're clearly completely terrified. ]
If you're that eager to be added to the collection, Gwen, who am I to deny you? [ His grin is feral, all teeth, and it's clearer up close that he's...not in great shape. He's collected scrapes and bruises all over his torso, beneath the tattered shirt, a smarting bruise blooming in the shadow of his jaw, where someone clearly fought back. He tsks, sliding a step closer, gloved hands spread, deceptively open. ] The point, of course. You know, you could have just said you missed me.
Instead, [ Jim shifts his weight back and forth on the balls of his feet in a mimicry of playfulness, raising his hands into fists. His voice is a lilting, creepy sing-song as he says: ] You're gonna have to kill me~
But you're familiar with that, right? [ Is he goading her, or just being a cruel asshole? Why not both? His voice rises in both volume and mania as he continues, waiting for the first strike, for one of them to break the impasse. ] Killing your friends is your MO, isn't it? I suppose I should be honored, actually. All-time Gwen Stacy Collateral Damage Hall of Fame, ladies and gentlemaaaan!
Come on, Gwen. [ Jim's laugh is cold and horrible, taunting, fingers curled into fists. ] Add me to your collection of ghosts, sweetpea.
[ Finally, Jim strikes out - should his fist make contact, Gwen will find out pretty quickly that the gloves he's wearing are wired up to a battery, tucked into the back waistband of his pants - electrifying them, makeshift taser gloves. ]
no subject
He tilts his head as Gwen lands on the catwalk, eyes still obscured by the goggles. There's something other about the motion - not quite human, perhaps, and definitely not Jim. He discards the megaphone carelessly over the side of the railing, the crack and splinter of it on hard pavement sending another wave of cries through the captives - whatever Jim and Spock have been doing with them, they're clearly completely terrified. ]
If you're that eager to be added to the collection, Gwen, who am I to deny you? [ His grin is feral, all teeth, and it's clearer up close that he's...not in great shape. He's collected scrapes and bruises all over his torso, beneath the tattered shirt, a smarting bruise blooming in the shadow of his jaw, where someone clearly fought back. He tsks, sliding a step closer, gloved hands spread, deceptively open. ] The point, of course. You know, you could have just said you missed me.
Instead, [ Jim shifts his weight back and forth on the balls of his feet in a mimicry of playfulness, raising his hands into fists. His voice is a lilting, creepy sing-song as he says: ] You're gonna have to kill me~
But you're familiar with that, right? [ Is he goading her, or just being a cruel asshole? Why not both? His voice rises in both volume and mania as he continues, waiting for the first strike, for one of them to break the impasse. ] Killing your friends is your MO, isn't it? I suppose I should be honored, actually. All-time Gwen Stacy Collateral Damage Hall of Fame, ladies and gentlemaaaan!
Come on, Gwen. [ Jim's laugh is cold and horrible, taunting, fingers curled into fists. ] Add me to your collection of ghosts, sweetpea.
[ Finally, Jim strikes out - should his fist make contact, Gwen will find out pretty quickly that the gloves he's wearing are wired up to a battery, tucked into the back waistband of his pants - electrifying them, makeshift taser gloves. ]