streetspeakin:

‘  yeah,  well,  guess you don’t know the brute a’ yer own strength.  ’
and there it is again; the drawl seeping back in between each syllable. 
with the arm now prepped,    he retrieves the comic book from his side
and begins folding it over – realizes it’s too thick,  unfolds it,   tears out
a few pages,    then repeats the process – to line it up along the length
of layne’s forearm.  not before noticing the mark of a rather impressive
birdcage, though, linework blue and neat and worth whatever amount
he’d choked out for it.

‘   nice ink.   ’   he tries to sound as interested as he actually is,   but it’s
hard, what with the long strip of cotton padding he now holds between
his teeth to wrap around both the arm and TANK GIRL.     the  way  his
fingers ghost over the area in   question hints that he can only imagine
the shooting pain lying beneath the skin there.    ‘  thought about gettin’
my own someday.  just can’t decide on what.  who knows, maybe i’ll –
relax your hand there, Twitch – join a biker gang and get branded in a
big group.  given that my bike even makes it that far.  ’   ramble, ramble.
he’s at least started the mummification process of bonding the comic to
the arm,  one hand propping layne’s elbow up to position it.   it’s a very
touchy  procedure;     he’d be kind of surprised if they’d never see each
other again after this. 

considering their choice of hobbies, he was sure they would.

‘   you’re doin’ good.  hate to be the other guy right now.  doubt there’s
any mysterious, handsome street doctors poppin’ out at him along the
way.  ’

the comic had been noted when clint had first dug through his bag. he
wondered why the other had been carrying it around with him because it’s
purpose was definitely not to wrap an arm. his gaze focuses on the drawings
as they were wrapped around his arm, a way to distract his mind with ever
small flair of pain he felt. pain that could have been avoided if he just stayed
calm. if his body was durable enough to withstand his power when he got
angry, this could have been avoided. but there was no hope with that.
nothing he could do about it either.

his hand relaxed as the other told him to, listening to him ramble about getting
ink or joining up with some motorcycle gang. the thought of it makes him laugh
once but he doesn’t give anything more. making sure that his sleeve is rolled
up enough to stay out of clint’s way, he uses his side and his teeth to roll up
the sleeves of his good arm to show the birds flying of, as if away from the
open cage. “ these are the only tattoos i’ve got that have any personal meaning.
i’ve got a set on my back i only did for aesthetic. if you ever choose something
for no meaning, make sure you don’t regret it. ” he knew he didn’t regret any
of his own. it was the best advice he could give for others thinking of getting
their own tattoos. “ i did the design for the ones on my arms, though. ”

he gave the other a smile a slight smile as the other called himself a handsome
street doctor, shaking his head once instead of shrugging his shoulders like he
was going to. best to keep the arm still. “ i’d hate to be him anyway. i think i
broke more on him than i ended up doing to my own hand. ”