[It's not like he didn't know the petals would be black. His universe is dead. That doesn't do a lot for his romantic chances. But he's kind of pissed off that he's landed himself half a rainbow here, red and blue and yellow coming out of his lungs and messing with his breathing. He wears these shades for a fucking reason, several, even, and he is not appreciating this visual declaration of how phenomenally high school drama his romantic history is. Could it not just stick to black? Is "doomed beyond all salvageability" not enough? What goddamned bullshit.

So maybe it's a little bit personal when he draws his sword and stares down these shitty plants. And then gets interrupted by a hacking fit that has him splitting flower petals. Red this time. One stuck between his teeth. Ugh.] Fuck you too.

[That he mutters under his breath as he straightens himself up. No. Enemy. Gotta kill it. Focus. He addresses the person with him as he squares up against his mortal foe.] Unless you have any incendiaries, I'm taking this as my cue to go in.

[Well. One out of two, anyway. It's not like Dirk objects to crimes. He definitely considers himself more inclined to the Chaotic or Neutral end of the spectrum than Lawful, because fuck the Batterwitch and screw the rules. However, Dirk absolutely does not trust anything made by anyone else. Yes, it's magic bullshit tech, but in a way he's been working with that since he was old enough to figure out machines, and this isn't his first time playing mechanic with half-foreign tech.

This is why Dirk can be found in a garage, covered in grease, his head underneath the chassis of... something. It'll be a battle wagon eventually. He doesn't look up, just hears footsteps and says,]

Hey. Can you pass me that screwdriver? The Pozidriv. It has a pink handle.

[For the record, he IS still wearing his stupid shades down there.]