goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"Not your fault. You didn't have a choice." No one ever really gave him much of one. York winces at the blood, kicking himself for not being more careful. "...does this happen often? To both of you."

I am a man of my word, you know that.

[ One set out of the iron and onto a plate- the first of many. Which he hands off to her without missing a beat, already pouring another set into the sizzling mold. Guests eat first. Also, waffles are the way to a woman's heart, right? right. THey totally are.

God Epsilon is probably laughing at him. ]

Like a fine wine. Better with age.

[ That's a line, right? Please say that's a line. That it works. He grins, crooked and easy, reaching up to ruffle his own hair. ]

Hobo chic. Can't really get my hair cut, people too close to the implant makes me twitchy.

For a moment he leans there, soaking up Delta's warmth and support before shuffling into a chair to pour himself into it. And pour coffee into himself. Like D said, it was waiting for him. "Mmmm...love you D. you're the best."

Wash hissed when she started to clean the back of his neck. Spaceships, Spartans, powered armour, and they still couldn't fucking make antiseptic that didn't hurt like a bitch.

Carolina tensed, her hands stilling for a moment. "Only when necessary."

"...can you do that? I think you, um. Could? Because I don't wanna be that guy that has his lady making noise and keeping everyone else up. If I'm gonna be a bit of a brag about it." And he could. Would. Will. He's got a mouth on him, does York. And he does like to use it.

"How often is it considered 'necessary'?" This is not something he's gonna let go. Not when he's got his hands in Wash's hair and there's BLOOD on his neck and Hargrove had done this to them.

"If they cannot hear it, then they won't believe you." Then again, it's not the neighbours he'd be bragging about it to, now is it. Green slitted eyes narrow a moment, before up she surges, Maxine whining in feline fashion as she's dropped back to the couch, and the demon sashays over to York's room.

Yes. Yes, she can certainly bind for silence. With certain keys to allow calls, if he absolutely needed her. She's not foolish enough to leave no outs in the event of..something unpleasant.

Best not to mention that when he has such a specific goal in mind. It's nice to see him in such a positive frame of mind - not that he hadn't been before.

...It was strange, to find herself a positive influence over a human. Whatever would they think of next.

"I should have this done by the time food arrives," she says at last, still lingering at the door. Before looking back over one shoulder at him, wings shifting to stretch out, then reshape themselves about her. "Might I have your consent to enter?"

"This is the first time in... six months or so," Wash said quietly. "More often when I first got rescued by him. They said they... they needed to know I wasn't a liability. That I was a good investment."

Carolina doesn't look at either of them, cleans Wash's neck off with quick, efficient motions.

[ Plate of waffle is accepted, mug of refilled coffee left in exchange. If she remembers nothing else, she remembers how he liked his coffee back in the day, from during the downtime between early PT and the first day's reports.

(There's not so much as a snicker from the suit of armor.) (But he probably is, yeah.)

There's something like a laugh that bubbles up at the mention of fine wine, and a playful swat - not at his arm, no, a little lower than that, before she steps away, moving to set her plate on the table. It may not be a very big one, but as last night showed, room enough for two. And plenty of syrup besides.

She'll at least wait for him to have some to eat too. She has some manners. ]

Mmm. Well, it suits you. Though I can imagine it's a bit troublesome in some weather. [that she manages with hair as long as hers under her helmet is due to practice - and being practical, when your hair grows back as fast as hers does.]

There's probably a sigh under all the leaning, Delta straightening a bit more once the York is appropriately seated. He seems unbothered by the declarations of love - from York, they are sincere as they are (probably) (mostly?) platonic, and there's a fresh cup poured for Carolina as she wanders over to join them.

"So, how long until the press conference?"

A fine red wine- hey! [ Did she just?

SHe did.

Oh. Wow. Maybe all those dreams weren't out of reach? Maybe it'd all work out? Hope is a dangerous thing, he's learned, but...it's Carolina. They've both learned to let go and that life is too damn short to not reach for something. Suddenly nervous he licks his lips, waffles almost burning while he makes up his mind.

Okay.

He's- he's gonna go for it. Be cool, York. Be smooth. Be suave. ]

If it gets to be a handfull I shave it off. Grows back quick enough. [ He shrugs and slides across from her, hooking his foot around her ankle all over again. ] Maybe you can braid it for me after breakfast.

"...And you?" If Wash was with the rebels often and Carolina dealt with Charon- either she got it more often or less. Any number of times is too fucking many. "I'm gonna kill him."

Hargrove is a dead man.

"Not all that worried about them, really. The important people will know." Him, the lady in question, Maxine, and Carolina. More or less. He's not all that sure how detailed Carolina's gonna want him to get but- he'l try to oblige. Right.

Study. Research. HE can do this.

"Sure. My home is your home, you can enter whatever room you like." He's gonna regret that later when he remembers how broad the statement was.

"I told you. Only when necessary. I know how to follow orders." And now York was here and making things difficult for them. She looks at him sharply when he says that, straightens up. "You're getting in the way, York. I need Wash in top condition. I can't do that if you're screwing with his head."

So much regret. Later.

She sweeps in immediately once permission is given; she has license to go where she pleases now, and he'll have to put a great deal of effort in to reverse that. Until then, however..

She steps cautiously forwards, frowning to herself, before extending one hand out, palm up. Flecks of black dust begin to be drawn in, swirling in place, mixing in flickers of orange-gold light. Her talons close inwards, quashing the power, before her wrist turns and her hand is held over his bed.

Then Carolina steps back and closes her eyes. There's no wind at all today, but energy briefly surges within York's room, glyphs forming, flashing into sooty existance on walls and glass panes, before disappearing entirely. Unseen, except to those who cared to look closely - and then they'd be a faint, translucent sheen only.

Motes of light scatter from her palm, coming to rest over his bed. Once dusted, she draws a sigil with a claw across the center of the sheets; whatever flesh comes to contact here will be sealed in the spell for as long as they remain in the room.

You've not tried me yet.

[ Stated smartly, before Carolina quickly gulps down some coffee. York isn't the only one capable of reeling out a line, she'd been the one to open with one when they'd met back at Errera after all, but with her back to him, she can't see him work himself up past nervousness.

She looks up as he sits himself down finally, brows twitching upwards slightly - though whether at his foot, or at his request, is unclear. Or would be, if the hint of interest from the earlier slap didn't still linger in her eyes.

She'd almost been uncertain of his reception of that when he'd yelped. But that he's started with the foot teasing again? That. That's a good sign, she thinks. She waits a little before carefully turning her foot, running it against his ankle in kind. ]

Maybe I can. Pass me the syrup?

Tidying up the livingroom- didn't want her thinking he was a SLOB now, did he? York misses the beginning of the spellcasting- but sticks his head in to catch the glyphs and the flash and the light.

Now that.

That is seriously cool. How can he not love magic when things come out looking so damn awesome?

"Have I mentioned how kickass you are today?"

"Hour, hour and a half?" He mumbles into his mug of coffee. Delta's dealt with him in the morning often enough to be used to his declarations. And been around him often enough in general to know he doesn't mean anything by it.

"I'm screwing with his head." Flat. Hard. Dangerous. "You want me gone, you know how to make it happen. Like fuck I'm walking out on either of you when they're doing this."

"You have not seen me 'kick ass' yet," she assures him once the last of the spell layers has been placed, and her eyes open. They're glowing, a light that takes a little time to fade while she remains in the room. Still, she's not oblivious to the praise; it's clear that she's pleased that she's pleased him, and her head remains held high as she steps back into the living room proper.

"You're making things difficult, York," she says coldly, a sharpness to her words. Still, her hands are gentle as she finishes patching Wash up, and her fingers linger against the back of his neck. It's a touch that is almost possessive. "We didn't need you before. You're only here because Control thinks you might be useful."

He sounds thrilled. And by that, she means not at all. "Hmm. In that case," she takes a larger gulp of her coffee, then fixes Delta with a stare. "I'll need the details for the location we're going to, and who's handling security on site, I'll want to liase with them ASAP."

She would prefer to be there on site sooner than later, but leaving him now was unwise. "I'll then send two of the lads ahead to check our route, as well as look out for anything or anyone on site. In smooth, out smooth, and then you can both get back to worrying about vacations."

"No, but you're still awesome." Praise is important, especially when someone is doing you a favor. He'll ask after the processes involved in casting that spell later, for now he's got a text about the food at the front door. "Meal's here. I'll run down and grab that."

Not for lack of want'n to.

[ Cards on the table. All of them, really. And it seems like she's down. Like she's okay with this, like it's something that can happen. He doesn't want to spend the next ten years wondering what if.

He'd rather know. ]

Sure.

[ He slides it over and leans with it, leaning against her side for a moment. All this causal contact he never got to enjoy. And she's reciprocating. It's not so hopless a thing as he'd thought a few days ago. ]

"So you're fine with sitting back and doing what they tell you, with letting them do this to you whenever you dare to have an original thought or urge." Didn't need him? Robots don't need much of anyone and that's exactly what Hargrove is trying to do to them. "So I gotta sit back and let this happen till they put me in that chair. Till they fuck with me until I'm not me anymore and I"m an obedient little monster. Is that it? Because if that's what I got to look forward to you may as well pull the fucking trigger now."

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York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

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York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

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York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)