Work Text:
Rappa wasn't stupid when it comes to crimes and illegal affairs, sure he might not have had any strong ties with the Yakuza until Overhaul recruited him, but he knew that many of them were over-the-top insane. All of them were insane, and even the calmest ones had that aspect to them. Rappa knows they do, that and they're bound to show it eventually.
The first month that Rappa was around the other subordinates and Expendables, he was counting off the days to when he'd encounter that 'insane' aspect of his new 'boss.' And it happened! It happened today, right now, at this moment, and he was not ready.
"So uhm…, what the fuck." He said spectacularly, his word choices having been hand-picked, top-quality and aged to perfection in order to describe his complex emotions. Woe was Rappa, unable to externally express the internal bemusement that fiddled at his perception of reality. "What the fuck are you doin’? Is this some kind of workout routine, I don't even — Hey Chrono, what the flying fuck is this batshit fuck-ass Overhole doing??"
"Well obviously he's ensuring that his muscles don't cramp-up and ache when he gets up to move from his chair…, some day," Chrono explained once he managed to convince Rappa to close the door. They were facing the entrance to Overhaul's office, Rappa bursting into the room, thinking that Overhaul would be prepared for his presence. Not that Overhaul really cared at all.
"You see, Rappa — because Overhaul is almost-always tied up with paperwork in his office, he doesn't get much physical exercise, save for the trips to the park with Eri. So this is how he makes up for it."
To be fair, Chrono was equally startled and somewhat impressed when he made the same mistake of walking into Overhaul's office, assuming that perhaps Overhaul, in his unnervingly-quiet manner, wasn't in there. Chrono liked to think that he was a level-headed individual, but there were things in the world that perfectly capable of getting a reaction out of him — what Rappa saw was one of them.
"That makes no fuckin’ sense, who needs to do 'paperwork' when they can get some real exercise by actually working out?! More importantly, if that's how he's gonna do it, ain't he supposed to do it on some, I don't know — stable FUCKIN’ ground that isn't his office chair and the TABLE?" Rappa's voice increases tremendously by the second, despite the fact that it's guaranteed to do that regardless, but this time there was some variation of, do I dare say, discomfort in it?
Unable to contain the frustration, Rappa stomps hurriedly down the hall, his footsteps weighted and heavy enough to create dents in the ground. Setsuno, Tabe and Hojo were seen peering out of a partially open door, for they too, are also curious as to what reason their new teammate is raging over this time.
Chrono trails behind him warily, eyes behind his mask narrowed worriedly at the ruined floorboard. He wonders how much of their funds have already been spent just fixing the broken floorboard, walls, and dealing with the childish tantrums thrown here and there from their subordinates.
Rappa, after an extremely short moment of silence, screams into the ceiling with his words rattling the entire compound and eliciting choking laughter from everyone that can hear him:
"I walk into his minimalistic-teen-blog aesthetic office! And Overhole's doin’ the splits, lookin’ at me like I just spilled his cafe latte all over his SHITTY 99 cent RUG! One leg under the arm of his high-executive BITCH-WORTHY chair, and the other leg just…??? Pointed in a FUCK-ALL perfect 60-degree angle, both feet arched. on. pointe like you’ve never seen.” He inhales, angrily, dramatically:
“Sits there lookin’ like a gay-as-hell, yoga-instructor when he hears that his favorite boy-band's doing a meet-and-greet at a nearby cafe…,"
And after catching his breath and leaving Chrono to lean against the wall for moral support, he continues by punching a hole into the nearest surface-area next to him and shrieking: "WHAT THE FUCK! I'M NOT EVEN SURE IF THIS IS ACTUALLY THE GUY WHO BEAT ME IN A FIGHT OR SOME DAMN TWINK."
Oh but Rappa, his seniors think over the sound of others chortling and mirthful wheezing, that is the guy who beat you in a fight, there's no other person like him.