video ; @thundaga

[astraphilia]

[ hello and welcome to Boredom Hours, sponsored by one too many midafternoon beers and a perpetual inability to not immediately make his ennui everyone else's problem. today's host is... Reno!

when the video starts, it's to a shockingly decently framed shot of Reno doing the hooligan squat on the front stoop of his apartment building. he's got a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth, and once he's sure that the video is rolling he takes a long drag of it before he speaks. ]

Sup. I'm Reno. Some of ya may know me from my colorful past as "guy who got yanked into pool by tentacle monster."

[ probably nobody knows him that way but it's fine. we are not concerned with strict veracity here. Reno blows a neat smoke ring and grins the kind of grin that means he knows he's being a pain in the ass. ]

I was thinkin', y'know, there's only so many of us. Probably ain't a bad idea to get to know each other, right? [ he gestures with his cigarette as he speaks as if to underscore his words. ] We need some conversation starters. Some icebreakers, y'know? Everybody's favorite highlight from their corporate bonding retreats.

So! [ he holds up a hand to count on.

one finger. ] Two truths and a lie. Post 'em, let other people guess. I'll leave mine too. Shoutout to the blond girlie who had that party a couple months back for this one.

[ two fingers. ] Hot or not. Or smash or pass, whatever you wanna call it. Post yourself and let people vote, if you're brave. Or post your friends if you want to fuck around. You can all see my face right now so count that as my submission.

[ three fingers. ] Creativity exercise, open prompt. You can go anywhere, be anybody, do anything you want. The world ain't ending and there's no war or whatever the hell going on. Who are you and what are you doing? [ brief smoke break, and then Reno stubs the butt out on the cement, exhaling as he says, ] Me, I wanna make mediocre coffee for minimum wage and not worry about shit except makin' rent.

[ and lastly, four fingers. ] "Reno, this is fuckin' stupid and I don't want to do it." Okay, nobody's got a gun to your head. We ain't even got guns here. Do what you want.

[ his four fingers curl in so he can offer a cheerful, if a bit manic, thumbs-up before he reaches out to turn off the video.

just before he touches the button, though, he pauses as if something just occurred to him— ] Oh, shit—also, drop map pins for your favorite restaurant in this place. I'm in the market for new eats, bonus points if it's spicy.

[ okay, now he's gone. ]

Comments

[icanfixer]

[ she thinks of her confession to netzach (i think i should like to fall in love someday, if it is as wonderful as the stories say, for all the pain that may come tied to it) and

yes, she wants to. she doesn't, but she does; if it was anything like this, but different somehow, then she wouldn't mind it. it would make her content. it would ease her, a simple call of her name (don quixote) would bring a smile to her face. a hand in hers, head rest against their shoulder, don breathes out softly. it weighs at her heart at the same time, though, and she sets it aside.

it's easy to, with his hand in hers. her head resting on his shoulder. ]

We shall make certain of it, for I should like to remember this [ a squeeze of his hand ] as well.

[ them, like this. taking silly pictures and speaking frankly about things that don't, but do, matter.

... they're friendly back home, but this... it's not this, and don doesn't think it could be. she doesn't know if she wishes it could be. but she wants to remember anyway. something's different here. changed, in a way. colored by their experiences. she gets it. ]

And what of thee? One cannot speak advice without being expected to take it themselves, so I should like to see thee endeavoring the same -- if it comes up.

[ though

as easily spoken as it is, because it's true: she does want him happy, if he sees someone he likes and wants to court them it's his right and she'll always stand by it, she'll even help out... her stomach flips regardless, a creeping feeling wedged between her back and the safety of the cushion. there's no explanation for it, and she doesn't ask for one. ]

[halbird]

[ ah?

did don not get the mental memo where he's repeatedly focused on the fact that it's not about him? though of course she turns it back. the slight shift of his body and the way his fingers move between hers aside, he can't be too surprised.

this is where he feels the tug of a fluster. not in the gentle squeeze of a hand or under the weight of someone who's been present through— not everything, but a lot. rather, it's the unknown, the unthought of. the shapeless form those emotions would take, towards whoever they would be directed to. ]

You can't... "what of thee" me. We're talking about you.

[ not in the way that says he's moving away from it. he's not tethered by her hand, but anchored.

so it's quiet, when he responds as truthfully as she had, moving together. ]

If it comes up, I'll try.

[ if.

if. he'll try. to feel and reach for whatever emotion he'd get from such a thing, if it ever bloomed through the cracks before he realized it, like a solitary flower.

like this. ]

[icanfixer]

[ the imitation of herself makes her giggle, but she's quiet in return as she lets him think, grin more from biting back the rest of her laughter than anything else. gentle sinclair's always thinking too much. there's a lot that goes on, that stays or moves his hand, and while don likes to give it a push or pull him anyway-- she lets him think, just as she would their missing seatmate.

they're so alike, those two. she misses yi sang. ]

So long as thee promise.

[ not that she'll make him swear on it, since she can't even swear herself she'll let her own feelings -- surprising as they come, forcefully tugged from the shadows and brought to light by this word, by that action -- do anymore than flourish (fester) in her heart.

but at least they're there, maybe. acknowledged very reluctantly, bashful as the woman herself can be. ]

I should go. Miss Fearne shall be expecting me.

[ and yet.

she doesn't move, lulled by familiarity and the quiet in her mind. it's rare, and it's always, always... right here, beside her. don knows he'll still be here when she comes back, that lingering isn't like her, but her hand feels weighed by the words shared.

half as content, as at ease, as she is now. whoever could match it? ]

[halbird]

[ promise... well, he hadn't so directly. but he had spoken it aloud, a truth, and in that way he supposes he had promised. for whatever unclear thing is in front of him— rather, the possibility of that unclear thing being in front of him, at whatever point in time, and reaching for it.

imagining it, planting it, caring for it, is left to the background for now. would it be something that makes him content? calm? more details will fall in the silence of don's absence, surely, though that doesn't come when she mentions it.

what color would the petals be? ]

Mm.

[ she should go. sinclair is the one who nags, after all. this is the point where his quiet agreement evolves into the polite thing, into not keeping people waiting.

the idle hum of agreement, like don quixote, lingers. she should go, and his hand doesn't move either. ]

... She might worry if you're late. [ no, no, that's him. ] I can walk you there.

[ so if there's more things she wants to say that keep her here, at his side, she can say them.

(or if she wants to stay within the contradiction of going and remaining, she can do that, too.) ]

[icanfixer]

Oh, I shan't impose on thee so.

[ walking her, though it's no imposition. don lingers a little more though, slow and reluctant in her stand, their hands still connected however loose. ]

I shall be alright now. [ because of him, a quiet squeeze in gratitude. ] Whilst I am gone, I shall fetch food. Have thee a craving for anything in particular, Young Sinclair?

[ a gentle shift back to normal, though the warmth still lingers against her side, her cheeks and heart. no colder, no emptier, no lonelier -- but don quixote finds herself thinking that she'd like to return as soon as she can, too. ]

[halbird]

[ normalcy, with reassurances. the "now" is... it feels as if he's done something for her, even if it wasn't much at all, with his arm pulled along with don quixote when she stands. he stands shortly after her, lead, taking in the question with a delayed blink as if it registers a second too slowly in his mind.

was he thinking of something else there? ]

Um... Not really. I haven't been thinking about it, so... Anything is fine.

[ the demure gf response, of course,

which is kind of true. he's in a trying enough mood that maybe even picking the meat off chicken wings won't end in failure. but, um, beyond that... the important thing is to add— ]

It's— not imposing, you know. I offered.

[ yeah. ]

[icanfixer]

I knew thee would say so.

[ consistent, but in the way that people used to each other are. both things, the demure gf response and also that. don holds something behind her smile (not in a bad way; it makes her smile wider, even, whatever the thought) and tips her head away, wiggling their fingers together tighter.

what if she doesn't want to let go once they get there?

... what if he doesn't?

the thought stops there; don doesn't know what to make of either, or the way something tightens in her chest, and it's a bad idea to go together. the answers to those questions feel... a little, after the conversation. a little something.

but he followed, so he wants to go. ]

Make sure thee dress warmly, Young Sinclair, the chill has truly begun to settle in.

[ they can go together. ]

[halbird]

[


he needs his hand for that, doesn't he? he doesn't... linger too much on how the distance between their fingers lessens with the shift in position. and if there's a thought there spared for why that might be, the reasons behind don's wider smile, it's only just because.

he had helped, hadn't he? he'd helped her, and the light in his chest is due to that, quiet and whispering and natural.

it's not cold at all. ]

Okay.

[ or— perhaps he does linger here. he presses their hands closer again, until he pulls gently, more of a question than an action; a gesture mumbling reassurances. ]

Let me get a scarf and a jacket, and then we can go.

[ together, ]

[icanfixer]

M-Mmhmm.

[ the action, the gentle press of closeness catches something in her chest again and she lets go a little quickly maybe, using the time when he moves to grab what's needed to check her hand curiously and then tuck it behind her, rocking on her heels. she doesn't need anything extra, warm-blooded as she is, but she knows he'll say something anyway.

that's just how he is, after all. anything else is kicked into the corner like she used to do, moving things in and out as time goes on; this, too, is a shift in their relationship, a closeness she wouldn't give away, couldn't.

and of course because she's warm-blooded, forgive the pink in her cheeks. ever fidgeting, the way she can't stay still. ]

Thee do not have to wait with me once we have arrived, for she shall be soon after I am sure. And there would be no point to the lesson if she were to do it herself.

[ really, this is to make sure she doesn't skip out on him like her feet want her to do, the rocking ensuring they're doing something besides running away (from what? from who? not sinclair, surely,). ]

[halbird]

[ well, of course he'll say something anyway. split to pull out a scarf and a jacket from the closet in the hall, as he said, though he'd never specified who would wear what.

what they've talked about lingers somewhat still, surely, and she's slowed down for him. that's why she's fidgeting... waiting for him to grab this, the scarf he's gotten for her, knowing the other would be too much. unneeded, plenty warm already... which he's not surprised about at all. yet the unnecessary always settles on top, fragments of each other overlapping, as these things do.

he stretches out to settle one such fragment around her neck. with that done, he pulls both ends forward to give her a kis

haha just fucking kidding. he's stretching the scarf out towards her. ]

Here. At least this.

[ in a way that says they will really not leave the apartment until At Least This.

and, the other things which he's, like, not really following. because conversations were Not Read. ]

You're learning something?

[icanfixer]

[ at least that... she'll take it and wind it around her neck, working on a clumsy bow she'd seen in the window of a store. nice to have her hands doing something, her eyes focused elsewhere. ]

I am. She says she is a wonderful tucker, so I shall be learning that. It is a useless skill in battle... but it is to fulfill a request. I shan't fail.

[ ... ... ...

like that...? no, that feels too loose. trying it again. that's better. sloppy, but better. ]

Besides, it is fun to learn useless things as well.