this is hostile architecture // [arlo/tavi v mutts, day 2]

Arlo smashes his palm frantically into both buttons, all the while trying to sling his crossbow to the ground, slip his foot into the stirrup, and nock a fucking bolt before his body decided it needed more sleep and he simply- DIED or something- "Oh no my worst nightmare, being a fucking lame unremarkable nerd."

His heart was doing that thing where it gallops like it's a funny little horse or something, except it was making it hard to breathe as Tavi jabbed and missed while the elevator dinged, pinged, and sang a fucking lullaby behind Arlo.

"WHY DO THESE TAKE SO DAMN LONG?" And in truth, he wasn't sure whether he was complaining about the totally useful weapon he was taking aim with or the so totally amazing, top shelf quality that is elevators- apparently? Except not when he was about to die; how dare they be highspeed travel in a box when his life counted on it. "I'm officially filing a complaint!" Again- maybe about crossbows, maybe about elevators, maybe even, like- about life in general. A toss-up, truly.

He hears everything click properly into place and stares through the scope, crosshairs dancing over Tavi's shoulder blade and then catching on his neck as Arlo swayed in the close quarter combat with a fucking magnifying glass to his eye.

"Come on, come on!"

Arlo practically tosses Tavi into the elevator as it does its little, ding dong ditch bing ding ping thing, and then begins to close. He kicks at fake clawing hands only to get his leg torn to shreds. Arlo couldn't really stand to look so he looked at Tavi's gash instead, pressing his hands into where the blood was oozing with the most vigor; Arlo laughed and let his bloodied fingers slip over half the buttons on the elevator panel.

"We're gonna have to amputate for sure," Arlo nods. "Pretty lame of you, for real."

"Losers?" Arlo breathes laughter and tries his hardest to spit fire; only it's all golden toothed grin and blood-soaked, sunset fingertips. His biceps screamed as he yanked the strings on his crossbow up without a pulley, his fingers slicing open at the creases. It stung, like- like so so so so bad- but- "I like losers, too." Seemed important to say; stupid and corny and annoying, and, just- "Just a little reminder I beat you."

DING.

"You didn't forget already, did---"

Arlo suddenly couldn't move. He gasps. Then gasps again and again, slapping his hand against hisneck. "Tavi, shit okay, yeah, yep-" The lame ass loser has got his arm in front of- of-

My throat.

Arlo feels his knees shaking as he stares at the blade that just missed his windpipe sticking clean through Tavi's arm. Well, not clean- actually it was- horribly, horrifically unclean and Arlo wondered what would happen when the blade was pulled free.

"Fuck. Okay, heh," Arlo stumbled backward but managed to kick his crossbow up and pull the trigger. The bolt ricocheted off the floor and into a very oddly, oily mannequin dummy, robot- thing? It was enough to force its hands out of the elevator and back into the hallway.

"Pretty sure arms aren't supposed to look like that." Arlo's breaths were coming in big, quick bursts as he speaks.

"How bad is mine?" Arlo moves his fingers briefly to show off the almost hole in his neck. Which was admittedly far less gruesome than the actual, legit hole in Tavi's arm. "Because yours is making me want to puke."

"We should kiss again before it's too late then, yeah?" He laughs, swiping more fun AI fake blood across his face; he was certain he was starting to sway- or maybe, it was the elevator? Fucking shit he hoped it was the elevator. "Right?"