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

[tactical_alert]

Stern face is stern. "Because if you have one, you'll probably have two, and then probably three. See the pattern?"

[goddamngrenades]

"Which is why I only have enough cash for one beer- maybe not even that if the prices are high." He props his elbows on the bar, face tipped to Malcolm. "I can manage that, Mal."

[tactical_alert]

Stern face remains stern. He'll order a cocktail for himself though. Something in a martini glass, fruity and orange-y.

[goddamngrenades]

True to his word, York counts out how much he'd need for a single beer, generous tip on top. It's light and smooth and easy to sip. He says nothing about the fruity drink till the orange peel starts bobbing when Malcolm sips and - "Would've figured you to be a gin martini kinda guy/"

[tactical_alert]

"Shaken and not stirred." A shrug. "I wouldn't mind that either, but that seems a little dry for this sort of venue, don't you think?"

[goddamngrenades]

"Fair enough." He takes a sip, wetting his lips with his tongue before he turns to put his back to the bar and look out at the bodies dancing on the floor. Could he even with his blind side? It'd be nice to try.

[tactical_alert]

"Going to try a little dancing?" He's seen the guy move. It's possible he can dance to the club beat.

[goddamngrenades]

"Think I just might. I know some of this music." After awhile it's all overly familiar, running through bones and heart and beating him out of his own head.

[tactical_alert]

"I suppose I'll come along and let you know if someone's coming up on your left. Whether to get your attention or because you're about to accidentally smack them in the face. Maybe I should do it from a distance?"

[goddamngrenades]

"I'd appreciate it. Last thing I wanna do is elbow someone in the face that's just trying to have a good time." He sips on his beer for a little longer. Just the one and it's gotta last him the night. No second. No smiling for drinks. None of that. Water after this- or soda. Sometimes they got fruit juice, even.

[tactical_alert]

"No starting any brawls, got it. We'll save that for another night," he says with a smirk. "So, anyone catching your eye yet?"

[goddamngrenades]

"Blond in the far corner. The things he's doing with his hips have got to be illegal. That or the brunette up front. She's just- look at her legs." No redheads. Never redheads.

[tactical_alert]

"They do go on for miles." He can definitely appreciate the feminine form. "What about that redhead, the short cropped one? She looks like she has quite a bit to grab hold of."

[goddamngrenades]

"Nah." He doesn't flinch quite so obviously, but he doesn't look either. "Not my type."

He'd had one. He'd lost one. It wasn't something he means to revisit.

[tactical_alert]

"What, not redheads, not short haired women, or not women with impeccable backsides?" He nudges York lightly. "Maybe you should ask one of those that do catch your eye to a little dance."

[goddamngrenades]

"Redheads." He'll leave it at that. Anything more seems a little excessive. Still- asking someone to dance sounds like an amazing idea. He downs the last of his beer and slips off his stool. "Wish me luck?"

[tactical_alert]

"I'll hang about and make sure no elbows go into unsuspecting faces." Wingman, after all, keeping the left side safe. Or at least, so he'll try.

[goddamngrenades]

"Thanks Mal." He claps a hand on Malcolm's shoulder as he weaves his way through, keeping his good eye on the target- the dancing blond with the illegal hips, all soft smiles and gesturing words as he earns himself a dance.

[tactical_alert]

Malcolm stays at the bar for a few moments longer to finish off his drink before following. Not too close. Just to have a visual on York's left, as promised, and where he can be seen or heard if need be. Dancing to club music is...not really something he's good at, but he vaguely grooves to the beat. Maybe later he could get that redhead's number. Or someone else's.

York's getting better about his blind spot, even if it's still literally blind. There's a time or two he has to signal to watch out so nobody gets smacked or clipped. But all in all, not a disaster.

[goddamngrenades]

It's fun. It's thorough and fun and good in a way he hasn't really had anything since they fell. Mal's keeping an eye out for him and the press of a body is good and hot and close and he needs it to be okay. THe song lulls and there's an offer of a drink that he can't accept. But another song, sure- after they wander back to the bar and he waves down for a glass of water. Just water.

[tactical_alert]

Good, that means York has some self-control and that Malcolm might not have to mother hen at him all night long. "Going to get his number?"

[goddamngrenades]

"I'm going to get another dance out of him and- yeah. I think a number. He's pretty chill." Might be good for a night or two. Not that he expects it to be a thing or not a thing- he takes what he can get.

[tactical_alert]

"Excellent. See, you didn't need me at all." At least here, out of the dome, Malcolm seems more relaxed. More like a person when he's at least attempting to appear social rather than the stern officer.

[goddamngrenades]

"Nah, there are like three times I would've elbowed someone in the face if you hadn't given me a heads up." He downs most of his water in a long swallow before hooking a hand around Malcolm's wrist. "He's gonna rest up a bit before the next dance. Wanna go for this song?"

[tactical_alert]

He starts a little at the touch. "Me?" he asks, blinking stupidly. "Us? Dance? Is he going to get, ah, jealous?" Malcolm adds with a little laugh.