RP Open Post

[goddamngrenades]

Smut, Gen, Angst, Fluff, Anything, Everything.
PFL era, Post war, Pre Canon, AU, whichever
Brackets or Prose whatever you're comfortable with
Tag and go, baby!

Comments

[pastdoesntdefine]

"You'll have time during your break to work on that again, if necessary?" But it certainly wouldnt be her call to make him do it. Still, that did confirm a couple of things she'd wondered about. "Where did you serve?"

[goddamngrenades]

"Classified." It rolls off the tongue before he can quit, but sighs. "Seriously. Signed an NDA when I got the honorable discharge. Part of the deal."

He wasn't even spec ops, it just kind of HAPPENED.

[pastdoesntdefine]

There's a twitch at the corner of her mouth. But nothing else. It's dark enough still that he won't be able to see how her lips flatten further until she moves the conversation on. "But you did serve," she says instead. "Pop stardom seems like an unusual career track after the military."

[goddamngrenades]

"Yep. Two tours because I'm a masochist and they promised they'd pay for college!" He gives a cheerful little fist bump that melds into a slump against the sofa. Well. They hadn't lied. It just took more than he thought it would. "Knocked around a bit after I got back. Tried to remember how to be a person again, you know? And flashing lights and smoke machines and loud noises probably aren't the best thing to subject myself to but- exposure therapy, right? I liked dancing before. So clubs. Lotta clubs. With sucky music. Good beat, shit lyrics that were all weird or vapid or sexist or some kind of IST and man, everyone wants to just have a good time. Why you gotta make it weird, right? Decided to be the change I wanted to see."

[pastdoesntdefine]

"Not the educational experience you signed up for," she utters dryly, shaking herself mentally loose from the edge, before turning her back to the window, arms folding as she leans against the wall and watches York, listen to what he has to say. Makes sense, if a funny sort of way. Be the change you want. Sounds like a challenge. (The sort she could get behind..?) "So how did you meet Delta?"

[goddamngrenades]

"Casbah." He didn't talk about casbah beyond the bare bones for a reason. "A lot of booze, a lot of sugar- a mountain of jello, a dare, fireworks, a pvc nurse outfit, and a scooter. That's all I'm allowed to say."

[pastdoesntdefine]

"That's fine. I'm not entirely sure I want to know." Pop stars. Oi vey.

[goddamngrenades]

"It was Reggie's fault."

[pastdoesntdefine]

"Don't. Want. To know."

Except, well: "Who the hell is Reggie, though?"

[goddamngrenades]

"Eurotrash club poser indie bastard. I hate his moustache and his stupid face." No they weren't ever dating, E!

[pastdoesntdefine]

There's a moment of silence, followed by a rather undignified snort of laughter.

[goddamngrenades]

"He's an ASSHOLE!" Like if he says it vehemently enough she'll believe him. "And his music SUCKS."

[pastdoesntdefine]

That just makes it worse somehow, and she fails to shush him appropriately as she continues sniggering. It's still early, people are sleeping and yet, and yet..

"That sounds like you have a history," she eventually manages.

[goddamngrenades]

"He's an asshole and tried to steal my first gig." He mutters.

[pastdoesntdefine]

"How do you steal a gig, exactly?"

[goddamngrenades]

"Trying to undercut the standing price and promise a bigger payout through drinks at the end of the night."

[pastdoesntdefine]

"And yet, here you still are. Apparently he had reason to worry."

[goddamngrenades]

"Damn right. I'm twice the musician he is." He crosses his arms, scowling at the far wall.

[pastdoesntdefine]

"Wouldn't know, I've never heard his music to compare." Her voice is fairly even, no hint of a tease. She's not going to pander to egos, anyway, and she finally starts moving, heading over to refill the coffee maker and start a fresh brew. They're both awake enough to need it.

[goddamngrenades]

"He uses autotune." He spits the word out like it's satan's name.

[pastdoesntdefine]

Oh Musicians.

"Still reserving judgement," she informs him, quietly turning two mugs upright, setting one aside for him. "Creamer? Sugar?" Coffee's almost done.

[goddamngrenades]

"He's terrible and he can take himself and fuck himself with himself." All the muttering. "One cream, two sugars. Thank you."

[pastdoesntdefine]

She's sure he could come up with a more descriptive insult once he was more awake. As it is, that one doesn't even get a snort, Carolina preferring to hand over the coffee without further delay.

"Should probably be giving you decaf. Still a good few hours out until that post-tour press conference of yours, you know."

[goddamngrenades]

"I won't sleep. I could try, but I will fail." Which'll leave him wound tight and cranky during the Press Conference but, hey, he usually is. Nothing new there.

[pastdoesntdefine]

"Nap later, then. Or at least lie down with a damp cloth over your eyes in the dark before everyone has to be up and going." She knows a little about insomnia, with dealing with the headaches that follow too little sleep. Her own coffee lacks both cream or sugar - much as she enjoys a good latte, she knows she'll need strong stuff for dealing with today.

And once the day and conference are done, she'll be on her way. She's not sure why that thought leaves her a little disappointed.