There are good War Boys and bad War Boys, by all estimations, but Furiosa's criteria for which Boys are which are different from those the other Imperators set. She favors control and cooperation more than most, for one thing. Maybe that's just because she drives the War Rig, and no matter how much an individual crewman wants to get to Valhalla, the mission has to be paramount. So, no showboating. No stupid chances. No throwing other Boys under the metaphorical bus.
you can get yourself killed on your own time, War Boy; today we're going to Gas Town
Slit is, by most accounts, the opposite of controlled and cooperative. He's a loose cannon in a lot of ways, which is not necessarily career-killing for a Lancer, but it's a good excuse for Furiosa to dislike him. And that in turn is all the excuse she needs to harass him, while they're both crossing one of the long, chilly underground halls of the Citadel, at the same moment, by pure chance.
The light slanting through a narrow window is enough for her to see who's coming and make a snap decision, pausing to fold her arms (one hard and metallic and not terribly shiny for all that). It's also enough light for him to see her expression, a careful balance of challenge and contempt under the black paint. "You look bored, War Boy. Slit, right?"
She knows damn well who it is. He's actually fairly distinctive.
War Boys ain't supposed to know Imperators. It's a rank thing and speaking to them other than following their short, barked commands is frowned upon. There's a system, here. A system Slit doesn't follow all that well. Wants to be a driver more than anything and he's willing to cheat to the top, steal the wheel of his assigned partner and strut out like it's nothin', so why should he pay this Imperator Furiosa any real respect when she passes him?
His face splits into a wide grin at her mentioning his name. Already got a big mouth but the scars make it seem so much bigger. And he knows her name, too, but he doesn't say it on purpose when he replies:
"That's me." A breathy growl. Makes eye contact and squares his shoulders as he stops. Whatever he was doing wasn't too important. Doesn't confirm or deny if he's bored, either, just stares at her with that smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
The system exists for a reason. It protects Imperators from War Boys and War Boys from Imperators. You don't rise in the ranks at all without blood on your hands, and by the time you get to Imperator--if you live that long--it might be the blood of War Boys, not just Buzzards or scavs or the Wretched.
Not that anyone's encouraged to kill other soldiers in the Immortan's army, but accidents happen. A lot of accidents happen.
Furiosa's lips twitch subtly. Slit's response, his body language, it's all completely inappropriate, and she's delighted. She's been off the road too long, she's restless, and she's expecting a meeting with the Immortan soon, and all of that makes her blood itch. If he's going to present himself as an easy target, she's going to take the shot.
"Pretty sure there's supposed to be a 'yes, Imperator' in there somewhere, Slit." She says his name like a threat. Or a curse. "Are you looking for trouble?"
Most War Boys flinch when an Imperator's got them in their sights. There's a sear of something in Slit that's like that-- he knows he's blatantly breaking rules, not respecting her. But he's in a rowdy enough mood he doesn't care.
So his response:
"Nahh, tryin' to get to the bloodbag pens..." His voice betrays that he's not entirely concerned with getting down there.
Her eyebrows rise, diverted from her intentions just long enough to wonder what the hell kind of business he thinks he has at the bloodbag pens. Honestly, that makes it sound like he is looking for trouble, just not the kind she's interested in offering him.
Hm. Organic ought to thank her for this.
She advances on him slowly, body language deceptively loose. He's taller than she is, and as broad-shouldered and heavily built as any War Boy in the place. "Doesn't sound urgent. Spar with me. I need to burn off some energy."
If it sounds like an order, that's because it is.
She usually takes off her metal prosthesis to spar, because punching someone in the throat with steel claws is a great way to kill them unintentionally. She's waiting for his acknowledgement as she reaches for the buckle of the cross-strap. Of course, if he's feeling particularly kami-crazy, he could just lunge at her while she's distracted.
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sarken
starter (for lanced)
Date: 2015-07-28 02:51 am (UTC)you can get yourself killed on your own time, War Boy; today we're going to Gas Town
Slit is, by most accounts, the opposite of controlled and cooperative. He's a loose cannon in a lot of ways, which is not necessarily career-killing for a Lancer, but it's a good excuse for Furiosa to dislike him. And that in turn is all the excuse she needs to harass him, while they're both crossing one of the long, chilly underground halls of the Citadel, at the same moment, by pure chance.
The light slanting through a narrow window is enough for her to see who's coming and make a snap decision, pausing to fold her arms (one hard and metallic and not terribly shiny for all that). It's also enough light for him to see her expression, a careful balance of challenge and contempt under the black paint. "You look bored, War Boy. Slit, right?"
She knows damn well who it is. He's actually fairly distinctive.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-07-28 06:32 pm (UTC)His face splits into a wide grin at her mentioning his name. Already got a big mouth but the scars make it seem so much bigger. And he knows her name, too, but he doesn't say it on purpose when he replies:
"That's me." A breathy growl. Makes eye contact and squares his shoulders as he stops. Whatever he was doing wasn't too important. Doesn't confirm or deny if he's bored, either, just stares at her with that smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-07-28 11:45 pm (UTC)Not that anyone's encouraged to kill other soldiers in the Immortan's army, but accidents happen. A lot of accidents happen.
Furiosa's lips twitch subtly. Slit's response, his body language, it's all completely inappropriate, and she's delighted. She's been off the road too long, she's restless, and she's expecting a meeting with the Immortan soon, and all of that makes her blood itch. If he's going to present himself as an easy target, she's going to take the shot.
"Pretty sure there's supposed to be a 'yes, Imperator' in there somewhere, Slit." She says his name like a threat. Or a curse. "Are you looking for trouble?"
(no subject)
Date: 2015-08-14 04:21 pm (UTC)So his response:
"Nahh, tryin' to get to the bloodbag pens..." His voice betrays that he's not entirely concerned with getting down there.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-08-16 05:50 am (UTC)Hm. Organic ought to thank her for this.
She advances on him slowly, body language deceptively loose. He's taller than she is, and as broad-shouldered and heavily built as any War Boy in the place. "Doesn't sound urgent. Spar with me. I need to burn off some energy."
If it sounds like an order, that's because it is.
She usually takes off her metal prosthesis to spar, because punching someone in the throat with steel claws is a great way to kill them unintentionally. She's waiting for his acknowledgement as she reaches for the buckle of the cross-strap. Of course, if he's feeling particularly kami-crazy, he could just lunge at her while she's distracted.