LOCATIONS

[farrowday]

(placeholder-- will have toplevels for common locations, players welcome to add their own for private spots like dorms)

Comments

[broil]

Told you, you were gonna pay for costing me that lay. Now you get to spend the day with me.

[He likes the sound of a date. Only because it's John, and only because the thought would make him cringe. Petre doesn't do dates, anyway. (Except for Meadow.)]

I was thinking sunshine and flowers.

[Last time they had sunshine and flowers they burned the yard down.]

Besides, you're not gonna tell me you're not used to winging the night and going crazy through the day, are you? Street rat.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

You can stop calling me that any time. [Even Johnny's better, god.

He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, still rubbing at his face.]

And I've been here two years. I'm used to at least a couple hours sleep a night now. Just - [Alright. He'll play along, for today, if only to keep Petre distracted from thoughts of what happened the night before. He can't come to the realization himself or decide to coax it out of John.] - just let me have my shower, which will now probably be ice cold.

[broil]

I didn't even come up with it! You did.

[You you you, John, all your fault.]

Good. That'll wake you up nice and proper.

[He flops down on his bed, picks up the book on his nightstand.]

Chop chop.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[He's not even gonna go into how often he heard that term on the street, how much it was not his creation. Not going to deal with Petre picking the wrong bed. He's just gonna head for the bathroom and try to block every single bit of this out for as long as he can before their magical day together starts.

And he told Ryan he was going crazy before.]

[broil]

[Well. Sane doesn't get Petre's attention, not most of the time.]

I don't hear water in there!

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[Someone, something, give him strength.]

Not showering fully clothed. But you just get to dream about it.

[Then the water does go on - his shower's fast enough to suggest that it was, indeed, lacking in hot water, and he comes out in his t-shirt and boxers this time. No more playing around with the tension now that it's at least begun to flow, or trickle, in the other direction. His hair's styled as well, slicked back off his face as usual, and his own outfit selection takes considerably less time.

White v-neck t-shirt. Brown zip-up hoodie. His usual baggy (although not low-slung) jeans and - just Vans, not his boots. Done. No dressing fancy for this date.]

Sunshine and flowers. [He turns to look at Petre, hands in his hoodie pockets - he's already deposited his lighter there, as useless as it'll be with Petre, because it never moves far from his side.] Do we get unicorns, too?

[broil]

You're the unicorn.

[back on his feet, he smacks the book shut and drops it on the mattress. On his way to the door, he holds it open to let John go through first.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[He pauses at that gesture, but walks through, eyes on Petre the whole way. Everything is suspicious. Everything. Once he's through, he turns back to face him again.]

Really don't wanna know, but I have to ask. Why?

[broil]

How many more times will I have to tell you you're just that special to me?

[he really wants a cigarette now... but won't do that until they get outside. in the back. where they can't be bothered.]

You don't see me treating anyone the way I treat you.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[I've never needed anyone. I need you.

Jesus, he has to stop thinking about that, it wasn't real.]

First time I've ever wished to be normal. Thanks for that. [It's all so hollow now, the sharp banter. He wonders if Petre can hear the subtle shift.] But if I have to be some rare mythical creature, can I at least be a dragon or something?

[broil]

'Course not.

[if he does notice, he doesn't care. at least John isn't just pushing him away as usual.]

Dragons can actually make their own fire.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Oh, fuck you. [He gives Petre a shove, but not a really hard one; last thing he needs is the guy falling over and spraining a wrist when they're at stalemate as far as punishments go.] You only think pyrokinesis is lame because it can't touch you. I can wreck pretty much anything and anyone else out there, it's good enough for me.

[broil]

[He stumbles a bit, but just smiles at the shove. Friendly banter, is all.]

On the contrary, I think it's very impressive. Yours could just be a little more impressive.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

If you were any more impressed with me, you'd come in your pants every time you saw me. Better we leave it like this for everyone's sake.

[He's not holding the big front door open for Petre, just barging out on his own and waiting for him to follow. It's not really brisk enough for the hoodie yet, but he can handle being warm. Comes with the territory.]

[broil]

[His turn to shove John, even if his arms are nowhere near as strong when he smacks his fist against a shoulder blade. The moment passes before he manages to make it outside.]

Finally, some fresh air.

[Which is why he reaches in for that cigarette now. Who needs all this fresh air? Not him.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[As Petre probably expected by now, the cigarette gets a twitch of one nostril. Gross. He walks a bit ahead, trying to stay upwind.]

So where are we actually going?

[broil]

Somewhere on the grass, where a hundred-year-old tree will protect us from the evil sun.

[pasty people like Petre don't get to toast very well.]

Let's just sit and talk. Confuse the fuck out of the faculty.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[It sounds as much like a trap as everything else that comes out of Petre's mouth, but also undeniably fun. He nods, picking up the pace as he once again tucks his hands into his pockets.]

I know a good one. Just past the graveyard. [It's sparsely populated, but the little collection of headstones to fallen X-Men is still a graveyard. And somehow the location seems to suit them well.]

[broil]

Of course you do! I knew I could count on you, John.

[And gladly he follows, bringing the cigarette up to his lips here and there, exhaling smoke with his eyes shut. He's soaking up the warmth on the skin of his cheeks, as harmful as too much exposure to the sun may be. It's all good. He feels good and doesn't question why.]

I'll tell you one thing - tequila's a bitch on your brain. Hate drawing blanks.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[Too bad for you, he thinks with fierce relief.]

Tequila. Nasty. I go whiskey all the way, Jack Daniels.

[broil]

Aren't you fancy. Nothing gets you to crash as hard as fast as tequila, though. Fucking love the whole ritual of it. [he gestures with his hands, trail of smoke following the cigarette-holding one, fingers expressive and wide.]

Would you believe me if I told you I'm a total lightweight?

[ex_outofcontrol435]

I drank to keep warm, man, whiskey had the best burn. Now I'm just used to it. I stole all my booze anyway, there's nothing fancy about it.

[He looks Petre up and down - smaller than him, a rarity at their age, and skinnier.]

Yeah. Easy.

[broil]

I thought vodka was for keeping warm. Like they do in Russia.

[mothalaaaaaand wait no not really]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Not Russian, never had any Russians around to ask. Whiskey worked for me. [He shrugs idly.] What kind of accent is that, anyway?

[That may well be the first real personal question he's ever asked Petre. Whoops.]

[broil]

[color him surprised.]

Romanian. Or so I've been told.

Can't believe you never ran into the Russian mafia.