|Chance Avaritia "Greed" (better_than) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2013-01-28 14:29:00
|Entry tags:||4chan, greed|
Who: Greed and 4chan
What: Who are you?
When: Monday, January 28th
The world seemed entirely too slow that Monday afternoon as Greed sat at the local cafe, doodling off his napkin to his wrist with a black pen. As children entertained themselves, Greed was very similar. He had another card in his pocket to mail to Chastity later, that was one of his Monday highlights. Work certainly made him a little claustrophobic today and that was bad because Greed loved dipping his hands into money.
He watched a couple from the distance having a decent meal. He rolled his eyes. Boring. It wasn't until the man looked at his date expectedly to fit the bill. That was more like it! Greed snickered into his cup as he took a swallow. Maybe today would end on a high note.
Clad in a thick, warm, black hoodie that proudly displayed the words “BITCH PLEASE” across his midsection, 4chan could say he was quite happy. At the rate 4chan was getting out lately, he was going to start becoming susceptible to a tan, mid-winter weather aside. But still, he hopped on his bike- which he had to check to make sure was actually his, after that little stint at Higher Education’s apartment, and the confusion he’d had thereafter with the messy bike rack. Really, he’d grabbed a red one and left, but it seemed to be missing a tassel or two. Oh well. It rode just fine, and this time, he’d made sure to hook it up to the bike rack outside, a heavy lock dissuading any potential bike-snatchers like himself.
He warmed his gloved fingers, rubbing them between one another as he walked inside the little cafe and ordered something warm and chocolatey, his taste buds fiending for something that would taste like warm chocolate milk- and keep him awake for the next several hours so he could properly ‘internet’, and get the smallest ounce of work done. Or porn. He could get porn done.
Drink in hand, along with one of those little novelty cake pops he’d been eyeing on his past two visits- little bits of red velvet cake coated with a tiny blob of cream cheese frosting, which he looked over a bit, before settling at a table near some guy who seemed to be sniggering at something. He grinned, widely. “Something funny?”
Greed turned at the intrusion with his mouth full of cheese danish. "What?" He asked not even closing his mouth to chew. At times he could give Glutt a run for his money with how much he could cram into his mouth.
He eyed the odd boy with a quirked brow. The couple at the table started to argue, the girl throwing down a few twenties and walking off in a huff. One of them blew off the table with her sudden gust landing right in Greed's parameter. He snatched it quickly, stashing it into his pocket. The kid with the cake pops was still standing there.
"Those are good." He pointed to the pop, stuffing another piece of danish into his mouth. Now he found himself snickering at the boy's coat. "What are you?" He was amused already.
4chan giggled something terrible, and stuffed the tiny piece of cake in his mouth in an ill-conceived attempt to stop it, stick dangling from between his lips, cheerful grin on his face.
“Dude that’s cool.” he mused, pointing to the other immortal’s pocket. He’d really enjoyed that little display on Greed’s part, to be quite honest. He was just so...funny, strange, blunt, perhaps in a way that tickled 4chan’s mischievous little psyche. He could get to like this guy, from what he could tell already, and with 4chan, first impressions were sometimes the only thing that mattered.
He removed the stick from his mouth, clean. Every bit of icing and cake and fondant gone. And he grinned, widely. “I’m 4chan.” he said, quietly, with a childish sort of excitement. Like he had a secret and he was the only one to know about it. “What are you?”
This kid amused himself like a cat batting paper. Greed grinned wide, as if he'd found a kindred. He liked this kid. But he wasn't about to share his danish. Stuffing the last quarter of it in his mouth, his cheeks puffed up like a squirrel.
He patted his pocket with the twenty. "Greed." He giggled himself holding out his hand (sans sticky danish) for a shake. He was already looking over the kid to see if there was anything he wanted to swipe. So far not really, but he was curious this could be a fun evening.
“Greed.” the young god repeated, in a delighted purr. He sort of liked names. Descriptive ones, especially. He’d been left to name himself, for the most part- anything other than 4chan felt wrong, and /b/ was there trying to name him David Davidson. He took Greed’s hand, and shook it, his grip somewhat light. He didn’t have a ‘manly’ handshake, and he really didn’t see the point in trying to prove what a bro he was to some guy he’d just met. Still, the gesture was nice, and after he’d let go, he quickly popped the straw to his drink in his mouth.
“So’d you have anything to do with that?” he asked, pointing towards the table where the couple had been. “Cuz that was kinda funny."
"Call me Greed, Avarice or even Chance. But I like goin' old school." Greed liked introducing himself. There was a pride when it came to the Sins and how they saw themselves. Greed would think himself the clever one of the bunch, so when called out on the entertainment he grinned wide. A grin that could literally spread ear to ear. "Of course I was. I was getting bored. The last time I was bored I stole a baby right out of the church parking lot."
"You're quite a funny looking guy." He was funny too from what he'd seen on the boards too. This little whipstart was like a younger version of himself. Then again it was hard to know if Greed ever grew up, the face he showed off was that of a child. It fooled everyone because Greed could be anything he wanted.
“Oh.” the imageboard nodded. “My name is- David, usually. Or Olev. I’ve been liking Olev lately. Only the government calls me David.” He pronounced ‘Olev’ the same way one would pronounce ‘olive’, which kind of made him smirk to himself as he took another sip of his drink.
“And what do you mean by funny-looking?” he asked, taking a second to process what the Sin was actually telling him. “Wait. Wait. You stole a baby? Like, just for fun? I mean- I’ve thought about doing that, but actually doing it is pretty hardcore.”
The idea made him sit up a little more in his seat, and sort of lean in. Now that this guy was keeping his incredibly short attention.
This guy could run circles around his head and keep going. It was fascinating how long winded he could get to explain something. Considering Greed could run a marathon with his mouth, he could appreciate it.
"Yeah I did!" Greed said diving into his frappicino only to find he'd nearly finished it off before the danish. "She was fat and adorable. It was like taking care of a puppy." Until he was forced to lose interest because Satan could have burned her to crispy bacon.
Greed leaned in is well, throwing a hand up to his mouth. "I have warehouses full of all kinds of shit. Im a little bit of a klepto. You can get a lot of good shit off infomercials."
“Warehouses?” the young god, once again, repeated after him. “Damn, you’re smart.” he added.
He went quiet for a moment, feeling like he’d talked himself out, and took a moment to sip up a bit more of his drink. “I have a basement full of porn and a closet full of sex toys.” he said, before taking a nice, pronounced swallow, and a quick look around. “I don’t think it’s nearly the same thing, though. Plus, like- I kinda got rid of some stuff to make room for my manga and- stuff.” he shrugged.
"I've been collecting a long time. There are storage lockers all over the united states with my stuff in it." Greed couldn't let go of anything, it was the most natural thing for him to do. Otherwise he'd bury himself under all his shit---which did happen from time to time. When Lucifer burned form his last apartment it was a fireman's worst nightmare.
"Got rid of stuff?" Greed mock gasped. "That's just tragic." He was a horde. His stuff was a part of him. Getting rid of any of it would be cutting off a limb. Down to every last gum wrapper.