Sunshine in a bag: Mordant and Solneki, 50 sentences

I know very little about these two; they're fairly taciturn when it comes to their backstories, and they refuse to settle down in a single universe. They tend to show up wherever some generalized thuggery is needed, and they're very good at what they do, for all that they can be kind of moronic sometimes.

They're actually a whole lot gayer and a whole lot sillier now than they were when they first walked into my head- they were originally fairly grim characters, and they barely tolerated each other as occasional business partners, let alone friends. Being that I am, at heart, a sappy thirteen year old girl, I rather like them better this way.

Anyway, fifty run-on sentences, largely for my own entertainment.
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Comfort (Mordant)
“Yeah, I know he’s got my back, no matter what- but it’s not like I like the bastard or anything.”

Kiss
Solneki’s sunglasses tangled with their noses: “You suck at this!” and they never tried it again.

Soft (Sol)
“Tell him this and you die, but sometimes- when I’m very, very inebriated, you understand, and only then- I just want to pet his stupid shirts.”

Pain (Sol)
“The idiot kept babbling, ‘It’s just a flesh wound you yellow bastards!’ over and over and over again, until I punched him in the face, just a little; why that took him down when four bullets didn’t, I’ll never know.”

Potatoes (Mordant)
“Gimme the rum, and fuck you and your vodka, you potato drinking pinko commie bastard!”

Rain (Mordant)
“This one time, the weather was like fucking shit, and I know he can’t see worth a damn, between the rain and his glasses fogging up, and the fact that it was half past midnight and we’d hit the fuse box not five minutes before, but the bastard still put a bullet through Miguel’s face at sixty paces, like it was cake, or pie, or- or- just, like breathing.”

Chocolate (Sol)
“Get one single sticky fingerprint on my tie, my glasses, or my gun and I will not only beat you within an inch of your life, but I’ll take away all your candy, too.”

Happiness (Mordant)
“Hot woman, warm gun, cold beer- and yeah, okay, most of those are better with that bastard around to share them with.”

Telephone (Sol)
“I have a ball peen hammer readied to break this snitch’s hand, when my phone goes off- and not only has it been taken off silent, but my ring tone has been changed from Bach’s concerto in D minor for two violins to “My Milkshake Brings All the Boys to the Yard”- and then I had to kill the poor plebe, because how else was I supposed to save face after that?”

Ears (Mordant)
“Tell him I told you this and we’ll both die, but sometimes, when I’m really drunk, I just want to chew on his ears- don’t look at me like that, he’s got really pretty ears and hey, fuck you, so what if I’ve got a thing for ears, he keeps wearing shiny things in them and- oh, shut the fuck up and buy me another drink.”

Name (Sol)
“I think it’s something hideously embarrassing like Clarence or Percival or Edmund- his parents didn’t just flip through a dictionary to pick out his name; he’s the only person stupid enough to do that.”

Sensual (Mordant)
“Shit, I can’t even remember that night, we were so trashed- I mean, I can remember the little details- the way his fingers were digging into my arm, the little shadows his eyelashes made on his cheeks- just, little things, important things.”

Death
“Boring,” they announce in unison, “but profitable,” and they clink their glasses together with matching grins.

Sex (Sol)
It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy pushing Mordant up against whatever flat surfaces happen to be available (walls, tables, the floor, the side of a Brinks truck that once); it’s more that he still isn’t sure, even after all this time, why the other man lets him.

Touch (Sol)
“You can look, if you want, but keep your hands to yourself,” and he assembled the sniper rifle with loving hands before Mordant’s admiring gaze.

Weakness (Mordant)
“He’s blind as a bat- astigmatic and nearsighted like nobody’s business- and contacts give him hives, so he wears the glasses, but he’d look like a fucking nerd with normal glasses, so the shades are prescription.”

Tears (Mordant)
“Shit, he’s terrifying when he does an interrogation- he makes ‘em cry nine times out of ten, and the only reason the tenth guy isn’t crying is ‘cuz Sol’s pistol whipped him into bloody unconsciousness.”

Speed (Mordant)
“He’s the fastest guy I know, but half the time, he hits like a girl.”

Wind (Mordant)
“See, he always drives his stupid penis car with the windows down, and he wears the glasses so he doesn’t have to squint all the time like some sort of fucking asshat- what do you mean, I drive a penis car too?”

Freedom (Sol)
“It’s not as important as you’d think; you can adapt to any situation, no matter how terrible, and still be reasonably happy as long as you’re in good company.”

Life (Sol)
“I’m still not sure how he’s not dead yet; there are times when I think he’s too stupid to live; as for me, I’m just too good to die.”

Jealousy (Mordant)
“Shit, yes he’s a jealous bastard- I’ve got the bruises on my ass to prove it.”

Hands (Sol)
“He gets a manicure every week- we’re hit men, hired thugs, and he gets a fucking manicure every week, and then has the gall to leave me picking up the tab when we go out- he’s independently wealthy, you know, he doesn’t have to work- some of us have dependents to support, but he’s too busy getting his nails done to pick up the fucking check.”

Taste
“You’d think, given that he spends the equivalent of the GDP of a small third world country on his wardrobe, that he’d manage to look like something other than a flaming fashionista lumberjack- but then, you’d also think someone with that much money would be able to afford something like half a brain, too.”

Taste
“His tie matches his boxers- now, I ask you, what sort of sane individual does that?”

Devotion (Mordant)
“Don’t take this the wrong way- I mean, it’s not like I like the bastard or anything- but who else am I going to get drunk with?”

Forever
They share equal looks of horrified revulsion at the thought of it.

Blood (Sol)
“I’ve seen more than enough of his, thanks- and he’s seen more than enough of mine, but only because he keeps biting me.”

Sickness (Mordant)
“Actually, he caught this weird virus when he was a kid, and it turned the whites of his eyes puke green; last time he went out in public without the glasses on, little kids ran away screaming.”

Melody (Sol)
“The idiot sings in the shower- he’s almost as loud as he is off key.”

Star
The paper target had a neat star pattern bored into its chest; Mordant glared at his own target with its random scattering of bullet holes, and punched the wall hard enough to crack the plaster; Solneki kindly refrained from smirking when he splinted Mordant’s broken hand.

Home
“Is where the booze is.”

Confusion (Sol)
“I have to stick to small sentences around him, or he just starts drooling.”

Fear (Mordant)
“It’s because he doesn’t have eyes; the sockets are actually windows to an alternate hell dimension so terrifying that mere mortals dare not look into it- now me, I can handle that sort of thing, but only because I’m fucking hardcore.”

Lightning/Thunder (Sol)
“You couldn’t direct a better entrance: the wind blowing our trenches all to hell, just enough rain to be dramatic, and we pull out our grenades at the same time, all in slow motion, and toss them off just as the lightning hits, and then the thunder- it was artistic, is what it was, because we’re artists, and we’re the best at what we do.”

Bonds (Mordant)
“Sometimes I just want to strangle him with his stupid fucking tie, but I will admit it comes in handy when I need to tie him to a bedpost or something.”

Market (Sol)
“Sometimes I run into him at the 7-11 at three in the morning, and he’ll have a basket full of limes, rum, cheap beer, and candy; at least he’ll know beyond a shadow of a doubt that when he loses all of his teeth, it wasn’t because of scurvy.”

Market (Mordant)
“Of course, whenever I see him at the store, all he’s ever got in his basket is a thing of ketchup and six things of horse radish and, a couple of times, a bottle of pickle relish and a bag of dried bird’s eye chilis; the man’s a freak, and I’m pretty sure he has no nerve endings left on his tongue, and the reason he’s such an irritable bastard is because of his fucking bleeding ulcer.”

Technology (Mordant)
“He’s a cyborg- no, seriously, they took out his eyes and replaced them with robotronic sensors and he can shoot laser beams from them- I’ve seen it, man, he’s a fucking robot!”

Gift
“Here,” he tossed the plastic bag at Mordant’s head- there were six cabochon emeralds the size of his thumbnail in it- “I know how much you like shiny things.”

Smile (Mordant)
“Yeah, he’s a stoic bastard, but he does it sometimes- usually when he’s killing something, or really drunk, or once, when he was sleeping.”

Innocence (Sol)
“Unlike some people, I am not afraid of scurvy, so no, I did not eat the last of your limes- now get your finger out of my face before I remove it.”

Completion (Sol)
“It’s like they’re two halves of the most wondrous whole- the sweetness of the ketchup, the tang and bite of the horseradish- and you are well aware that if I catch you laughing at me, I’ll break your arms, yes?”

Clouds (Mordant)
“I hate it when it rains; the bastard always remembers an umbrella, and he’s only got the one- and it matches his fucking tie- do you know how embarrassing it is to be seen in public with him when it rains?”

Sky (Mordant)
“They’re blue, like, fuck, I don’t know, just blue, like the sky or something, because when you look at them, you don’t feel like drowning, you feel like flying.”

Heaven (Sol)
“I think that’s a bar over on the corner of Seventh and Pearl, the one with the waitresses all done up with halos?”

Hell (Mordant)
“No, I mean, yeah, halos, but I’m pretty sure Hell’s on Seventh and Pearl, Heaven’s over on Ninth and June.”

Sun (Mordant)
“He’s a vampire- but not like some pansy ass Anne Rice vampire, I mean he can go out in the sun and stuff without completely combusting, but the direct rays of the sun make his eyeballs melt, and also, he has slit pupils like some sort of crazy snake.”

Moon (Sol)
“Good job, you’ve managed to piss off our ex-employers even more than I’d have ever thought possible; now pull your pants up, sit down, and put your seatbelt on.”

Waves (Sol)
“If you’re insinuating that I only go to the gym for the chance to see that idiot in a speedo, I will be honor bound to kick your face in.”

Hair (Sol)
“This is actually my natural hair color; Mordant is the metrosexual one in this relationship.”

Supernova
They turn the corner- “Christ, you drive like my grandmother,” and behind them, the building explodes- “Oh, fuck you, just shut up and give me some cover fire, it’s not my fault your fucking car handles like your mom, and I’ve met your grandmother, and she is one hardcore scary ass old lady,” as debris rains down on the street like a thousand grimy asteroids.