yea im startin to think thats the case at least here
i dont even gotta walk that far open up
[at his door, the teen sports the warm bottom half of a container covered in tin foil and a small bowl on top of it, the scent of something sweet and syrupy drifting off truly tantalizing]
[with his free hand in jeans, baggy clothing does a poor job of hiding skinniness, and his bandaged face the sour downturn you'd expect from an attitude like his on the network]
[he doesn't bother to knock, keeping his communicator open until Rokurou comes to collect him]
( he doesn't respond to the last texts because he doesn't feel like he needs to. standing from where he was probably doing something typically-Rokurou like checking his armor, that same sheathed sword resting back against the wall, he stretches as he makes his way to the front of the cabin.
aaaand what he finds is just as pale as on the video feeds. huh. he really thought it might be a trick of light! there are notes: he's thin, bandaged across the face, and almost sullen. not that any of it bothers him at all—it's not like he's a stranger to bandaged cheeks and reddened eyes.
—but before he can make a comment on that something smells.... no way.
cue a near jaw drop and then a grin, )
You didn't. ( he did, and Roku's gonna shove his face into whatever's in that bowl like a damn fatass, ) I'd say I'm going to get sick stuffing my face, but I can't, so I'll just get sick in spirit.
( he steps back, leaving the door open for Mo to follow, )
Come in!
( there's... not much inside other than said armor, sword he still won't explain, and some bottles of sake. lol. other than the usual couch, bedroom, table, etc etc. apparently someone lives scarcely. )
[likewise, patches of warm skin and dark, cold black herald a vaguely familiar countenance, wreathed in bright colors and a smile that still feels a little too sharp, a little too bare -- like it belongs soaked in blood]
[taller than him but not as much as he expected, broader than him but not as much as he thought -- did he make him up to be some kind of monster in his head? is it the disarming ones that really sink the deepest?]
[he eagerly hands the food off to him, shoving the freed fingers into his other pocket like he's afraid if he leaves them out too long, they'll wander to match all his wonder]
[the rest is what he expected]
Sure. [assuming he'll get water is probably not wise, but he's never claimed to be; he sways in the space the warrior leaves behind, too awkward to claim a seat]
[the contents will personally attack him with baked sweet potatoes, sugar crystallized in their crevices, the bowl full of molten caramel that oozes like a sin]
( if he notices any appraisal he doesn't hint it, only taking the container into well-worn hands, callused from gripping a sword a thousand times and then a thousand times more, bleeding metalic twang from cuts and brow. he gives the foil a curious look, yet not asking anything about it. just another weird thing that's on the station, shiny like the all the transportation and.... dildos, or whatever.
it ends up flung aside in favor of what's inside, anyway. yyyyyeeesss. yyyesssss. he can eat this all day. there's the sudden urge for another sweet along with it, someone else's favorite, and even with that it wells up only good memories.
glancing back over, he raises a brow, like, um? )
Sit down. ( don't make it weird. ) One drink, coming up.
( of course it's sake, you fool. he sports an old tokkuri and cups, one of the things that came along for the ride. pouring, setting one small cup down on the table for the beansprout and one for himself, because why not. gotta pair this with something. )
Just now? Checking out some things for Velvet. And training. I usually do that for three hours every morning, but if I really get into it, I'll get stuck for longer.
[all he's good for is making it weird, really, but he's not too bad at following orders either; with reluctance, he pulls out a chair and slouches in it with a messy, boneless sprawl, if not for how shoulders and elbows and wrists jut, everything a bent edge of a fence, self-protection ingrained]
[the liquid is clear and the container he isn't familiar with, and so none of his alarms go off but for the vague of why the cups are so small -- is he stingy? (with water?)]
Ah, her. She's weird. [both of them are]
[pointedly not asking about his training too; it's turning into a game to deny him, really]
Seems like she's gonna have a hard time here.
[the liquid swirls, looking at it more than he does Rokurou, even when he comes to sit across from him]
( ah, and here he was hoping the beansprout would ask him about his training. he could easily go into his routine and how he switches it up, and what he does when he extends it, but... no dice, and he almost pouts. what is this, some kind of neglect play?
finding some chopsticks and bowls he leaves it all out on the table and takes his own seat, relaxing like a giant dog across the couch. )
Maybe. Even we've got standards—and this place really pushes hers. ( he won't deny that Velvet's weird. she is. and he is, too. ) She'll do what she has to, though. She always has. Not likely to change here.
( rather than dig right in, he picks up his own cup, tilting it in old habit before taking a swig. )
[a contemplative him, coolly listening, watching a dirty and ragged hand lift and bring it up, and he thinks about some archaic 'cheers' rhyme in his mother tongue, bolstered by a first face to face meeting and the ritual of it all]
[the part of him that longs for his own culture simmers low in him, ignored until it burns at the bottom]
...Maybe you should consider rewordin' that. [he must know how it sounds...] Unless that's yer thing. No judgment.
[absolutely heaps and tons of judgment]
She kept talkin' about threats and burnin' this place down. Whatcha think'll happen first?
[that or, well, the other; with his inquiry, bright amber eyes lock on a single one, almost matched in color (though certainly not size or intensity), searching for something he's not ready to name]
[they say who you choose to be around reflects on you, don't they? it's not Velvet he's trying to get a read on, has already neatly compartmentalized her]
( there's some kind of appraisal in that look; he's seen it from opponents, wondering where he might strike or feint. but he still doesn't know what Mo Guanshan is looking for. not that finding out is a priority, considering he's not trying to impress. he's a daemon, after all—there's a reason why he doesn't think he's fit to judge anyone else.
he keeps casual, rubbing his chin and considering. no.... no, it will be interesting, but the beansprout doesn't have the context for his saying so. )
I'll keep her from being too reckless. ( said like he's done just that before, ) And even if she's angry, she's not stupid.
( not a direct answer to the question but he kind of feels like it is. helping himself, he scoops some of the sweet potatoes into a bowl for himself, )
[the other, then, though it may come in some form no one quite expects; he's not sure if he's disappointed or not -- the rebel in him wants anarchy, a break from the status quo, a reality check for all these rich bastards]
[the responsible part of him knows he can't afford it]
[not hard to figure out which takes precedence]
Those're for you.
[no intention to take part because if he really wanted some, he would've already eaten them]
[he does, however, finally lift the cup to throw back, liquor going down his throat far too quickly with the expectation of something else, and it slams back down onto the table with a resolute slosh, arms gripping himself as he fends off a rack of coughs -- and the burn from going up his nose]
( when he sees the beansprout going for a shot with that drink, he lifts his eyebrow, but doesn't tell him not to. it he wants to do that then Rokurou's not going to stop him?! wow, a brave soul. what happened to slowly enjoying and delighting in the notes and subtle flavors? youth. with their newfangled tweeters and picturegrams.
his reaction gets a bunch of ???????s in response. )
N....o? ( is this a trick question?? ) You'd know if I was trying to kill you.
[f...ollowing his gaze reluctantly, the patchwork of his own stupidity coming clear is a beautiful quilt of dumbfuckery he can keep himself warm with on cold nights]
[......damn it]
[LOOKS BACK DOWN TO HIS HALF-DRAINED CUP RELUCTANTLY...]
Seventeen.
It ain't... the first time I've had anything. [defensively]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
omg.... spoiling him, what a good wife
( look at this gross genuine response, tailwag tailwag )
Is it a knife? A sword? ... Two knives!?
( is this even surprising )
you can thank him by paying the water bill
naw but it IS somethin we talked about before
do u wanna keep this up or should u put urself outta ur misery & give me ur apt #
only time will tell
in this family we get water from the well
I'd be guessing forever. So... it's number 209
Are you going to visit me? Is that the surprise?
the fuck we do
no ?
no subject
I'd be okay with that
no subject
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I kinda wanted to see what you're like in person, but okay
no subject
im the same
but relax already ill stay for a bit
ur there ?
no subject
I am relaxed? Just got in, so yeah. I'm here
no subject
shut up
fine ill be there soon
no subject
I'll be here, not shutting up
no subject
at least here
i dont even gotta walk that far
open up
[at his door, the teen sports the warm bottom half of a container covered in tin foil and a small bowl on top of it, the scent of something sweet and syrupy drifting off truly tantalizing]
[with his free hand in jeans, baggy clothing does a poor job of hiding skinniness, and his bandaged face the sour downturn you'd expect from an attitude like his on the network]
[he doesn't bother to knock, keeping his communicator open until Rokurou comes to collect him]
no subject
( he doesn't respond to the last texts because he doesn't feel like he needs to. standing from where he was probably doing something typically-Rokurou like checking his armor, that same sheathed sword resting back against the wall, he stretches as he makes his way to the front of the cabin.
aaaand what he finds is just as pale as on the video feeds. huh. he really thought it might be a trick of light! there are notes: he's thin, bandaged across the face, and almost sullen. not that any of it bothers him at all—it's not like he's a stranger to bandaged cheeks and reddened eyes.
—but before he can make a comment on that something smells.... no way.
cue a near jaw drop and then a grin, )
You didn't. ( he did, and Roku's gonna shove his face into whatever's in that bowl like a damn fatass, ) I'd say I'm going to get sick stuffing my face, but I can't, so I'll just get sick in spirit.
( he steps back, leaving the door open for Mo to follow, )
Come in!
( there's... not much inside other than said armor, sword he still won't explain, and some bottles of sake. lol. other than the usual couch, bedroom, table, etc etc. apparently someone lives scarcely. )
Want a drink?
( .... all booze. maybe water. )
no subject
[taller than him but not as much as he expected, broader than him but not as much as he thought -- did he make him up to be some kind of monster in his head? is it the disarming ones that really sink the deepest?]
[he eagerly hands the food off to him, shoving the freed fingers into his other pocket like he's afraid if he leaves them out too long, they'll wander to match all his wonder]
[the rest is what he expected]
Sure. [assuming he'll get water is probably not wise, but he's never claimed to be; he sways in the space the warrior leaves behind, too awkward to claim a seat]
[the contents will personally attack him with baked sweet potatoes, sugar crystallized in their crevices, the bowl full of molten caramel that oozes like a sin]
Where ya been? [teenagers, always so nosy.]
no subject
it ends up flung aside in favor of what's inside, anyway. yyyyyeeesss. yyyesssss. he can eat this all day. there's the sudden urge for another sweet along with it, someone else's favorite, and even with that it wells up only good memories.
glancing back over, he raises a brow, like, um? )
Sit down. ( don't make it weird. ) One drink, coming up.
( of course it's sake, you fool. he sports an old tokkuri and cups, one of the things that came along for the ride. pouring, setting one small cup down on the table for the beansprout and one for himself, because why not. gotta pair this with something. )
Just now? Checking out some things for Velvet. And training. I usually do that for three hours every morning, but if I really get into it, I'll get stuck for longer.
no subject
[the liquid is clear and the container he isn't familiar with, and so none of his alarms go off but for the vague of why the cups are so small -- is he stingy? (with water?)]
Ah, her. She's weird. [both of them are]
[pointedly not asking about his training too; it's turning into a game to deny him, really]
Seems like she's gonna have a hard time here.
[the liquid swirls, looking at it more than he does Rokurou, even when he comes to sit across from him]
no subject
finding some chopsticks and bowls he leaves it all out on the table and takes his own seat, relaxing like a giant dog across the couch. )
Maybe. Even we've got standards—and this place really pushes hers. ( he won't deny that Velvet's weird. she is. and he is, too. ) She'll do what she has to, though. She always has. Not likely to change here.
( rather than dig right in, he picks up his own cup, tilting it in old habit before taking a swig. )
I'm looking forward to seeing what she does.
( what a good friend. )
no subject
[the part of him that longs for his own culture simmers low in him, ignored until it burns at the bottom]
...Maybe you should consider rewordin' that. [he must know how it sounds...] Unless that's yer thing. No judgment.
[absolutely heaps and tons of judgment]
She kept talkin' about threats and burnin' this place down. Whatcha think'll happen first?
[that or, well, the other; with his inquiry, bright amber eyes lock on a single one, almost matched in color (though certainly not size or intensity), searching for something he's not ready to name]
[they say who you choose to be around reflects on you, don't they? it's not Velvet he's trying to get a read on, has already neatly compartmentalized her]
no subject
he keeps casual, rubbing his chin and considering. no.... no, it will be interesting, but the beansprout doesn't have the context for his saying so. )
I'll keep her from being too reckless. ( said like he's done just that before, ) And even if she's angry, she's not stupid.
( not a direct answer to the question but he kind of feels like it is. helping himself, he scoops some of the sweet potatoes into a bowl for himself, )
Gonna join me?
1/2
[the responsible part of him knows he can't afford it]
[not hard to figure out which takes precedence]
Those're for you.
[no intention to take part because if he really wanted some, he would've already eaten them]
[he does, however, finally lift the cup to throw back, liquor going down his throat far too quickly with the expectation of something else, and it slams back down onto the table with a resolute slosh, arms gripping himself as he fends off a rack of coughs -- and the burn from going up his nose]
no subject
Are you tryna kill me?!
no subject
his reaction gets a bunch of ???????s in response. )
N....o? ( is this a trick question?? ) You'd know if I was trying to kill you.
( —wait )
Did you... not realize that was sake?
( how?! )
no subject
No, I didn't realize it was -- [a finger juts wildly at the tokkuri]
I thought that had water in it! D'you jes' carry booze with you everywhere, you fucking lush?!
no subject
Buuuut right now we're in my cabin, so.
( stares at the the various sake bottles in the kitchen
stares at the tokkuri
stares at sake cups
stares at the beansprout )
Sorry, sorry. I thought it was obvious!
( then he cocks his head, )
How old are you, anyway?
no subject
[......damn it]
[LOOKS BACK DOWN TO HIS HALF-DRAINED CUP RELUCTANTLY...]
Seventeen.
It ain't... the first time I've had anything. [defensively]
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