"Thurprithe thurprithe, fuckface," is the only warning he gets before that fucking blindfold suddenly slips over his eyes from behind and his world goes silent.
Most people wouldn't think so- not with the sounds of nightlife and the buzzing city and Psiioniic's sniggering right in front of him. Most people are also worth less than cheap candy.
Yet instead of reaching up to tear the blindfold off or, for anyone else, tear out the offender's eyes, Schuldig just twitches. For all that he might not like it, this is actually for his benefit. As incredibly common as psychic ability might be in trolls, he's also learned (mostly from poking Psii's own brain) that they run the gamut from expected to complete extraordinary bullshit. Seers' minds are insane enough- they have to be in order to handle the sheer amount of future bullshit that they have to sort out. Psiioniic's version of seeing the future is even worse than that, on account of relying on the dead and dying... who, to Schuldig's complete unsurprise, make the already present clusterfuck worse than it already is.
In the self-taught way of so many other psychics, Psii has learned how to mostly block the chatter so that he doesn't lose his own god damn mind. Probably why he'd adjusted so quickly to providing a white noise barrier against Schuldig's own abilities, easy to break through it as it is. But when he really concentrates... Schuldig thinks he'd rather have his head smashed into concrete than be anywhere near him.
Still. It doesn't mean he has to like it. It doesn't mean he can't reach back and hold the blindfold himself. Psii doesn't object. In fact, to Schuldig's surprise... As his hands hold the blindfold in place, he feels a burning hot hand slide over them, claws lightly pricking at his skin.
Only a minute is needed- probably less- before the crackle of psionics around the blindfold vanishes. Schuldig is taking off the blindfold before he's even given the go-ahead. Psii is quiet, opaque gaze elsewhere, and his thoughts are among the steady buzz which washes into Schuldig's mind once again. Even a self proclaimed 'genius' needs a second to sort through so much information and pluck out the right parts.
So out of it at times like this, Schuldig had once suckerpunched him, just because he thought it'd be funny, and Psii's indignant startled outrage had been so funny that he'd laughed so hard he'd almost missed the chair that had come for his ankles.
Fun stuff like that can wait for another time. They have work to do.
no subject
Most people wouldn't think so- not with the sounds of nightlife and the buzzing city and Psiioniic's sniggering right in front of him. Most people are also worth less than cheap candy.
Yet instead of reaching up to tear the blindfold off or, for anyone else, tear out the offender's eyes, Schuldig just twitches. For all that he might not like it, this is actually for his benefit. As incredibly common as psychic ability might be in trolls, he's also learned (mostly from poking Psii's own brain) that they run the gamut from expected to complete extraordinary bullshit. Seers' minds are insane enough- they have to be in order to handle the sheer amount of future bullshit that they have to sort out. Psiioniic's version of seeing the future is even worse than that, on account of relying on the dead and dying... who, to Schuldig's complete unsurprise, make the already present clusterfuck worse than it already is.
In the self-taught way of so many other psychics, Psii has learned how to mostly block the chatter so that he doesn't lose his own god damn mind. Probably why he'd adjusted so quickly to providing a white noise barrier against Schuldig's own abilities, easy to break through it as it is. But when he really concentrates... Schuldig thinks he'd rather have his head smashed into concrete than be anywhere near him.
Still. It doesn't mean he has to like it. It doesn't mean he can't reach back and hold the blindfold himself. Psii doesn't object. In fact, to Schuldig's surprise... As his hands hold the blindfold in place, he feels a burning hot hand slide over them, claws lightly pricking at his skin.
Only a minute is needed- probably less- before the crackle of psionics around the blindfold vanishes. Schuldig is taking off the blindfold before he's even given the go-ahead. Psii is quiet, opaque gaze elsewhere, and his thoughts are among the steady buzz which washes into Schuldig's mind once again. Even a self proclaimed 'genius' needs a second to sort through so much information and pluck out the right parts.
So out of it at times like this, Schuldig had once suckerpunched him, just because he thought it'd be funny, and Psii's indignant startled outrage had been so funny that he'd laughed so hard he'd almost missed the chair that had come for his ankles.
Fun stuff like that can wait for another time. They have work to do.