goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"No. I'd rather know something going in." He cradles the mug to his chest, shifting so he's sitting upright again, ugh. But he sips and thinks and worries that somehow he's saying the wrong thing. "What do you wanna know about me? I can start there."

"I don't know. Tell me whatever you want to tell me, if you want to talk. So long as it doesn't have anything to do with Carolina."

"Mkay. Um. I'm an only child. My parents are working in the Hong Kong shatterdome on drift tech. I like long walks on the beach that end in a shower because sand gets fucking everywhere. My favorite flavor of ice cream is salted caramel. Before I joined the military I had a record as long as I am tall that had to do with breaking and entering because I was bored." He slurps a bit of coffee to clear his head. "I'm bi. Kissed my first boy at fourteen and slept with my first girl at sixteen. Hence the shitty lube flavor."

Well, that's a lot of random tidbits all at once. Taylor does always seem to need direction. "Shitty lube flavour because you were young and didn't know any better?"

"It was supposed to make giving oral easier but honestly i would've done better without. Have since then. Um...I am good at and enjoy giving oral. Since we're on the subject. I do not like flavored lube it's all too sweet and- ugh. Yeah, no. Flavored condoms are also right out. I'm clean, got tested a few months ago and that guy last night was also clean so if the second thing becomes a thing we won't have to worry about anything?"

"Okay." He wasn't asking but okay. Whatever. "No flavours. Got it. What else, or is it my turn?"

"I get really tactile after a drift- or when I've been drinking. Or when I'm tired." A beat. "It's kind of amazing that I haven't just draped myself over you like a cat yet but then again the bed is comfy and you're over there."

A few deep swigs and he's finished his coffee, setting the mug aside. "I have screaming nightmares sometimes because of what happens. I still have days where I'm convinced all this is a dream and I'll wake up and things'll be how they're supposed to be. There are days when I wouldn't have gotten out of bed to do anything except I had to spar with you. I'm not sure I"m worth the effort you've been putting into me. And I find you stupidly attractive most of the time but don't know how to talk about it."

"Apparently you also get very bold and very blunt and very honest when you've been drinking. Thank god I'm not drunk. Actually, you'd like me drunk. I'm actually somewhat personable then."

"You're gonna be in my head tomorrow." He shrugs. "You'll know all of this anyway."

"Then why not just deal with the headache that'll come if it doesn't seem to mean that much?" York doesn't seem to know what he wants, but given the drinking, it's something Malcolm has to forgive.

"KNowing now makes it easier later. Besides. there's a whole chunk of my life you don't wanna hear about." Which'll make shit interesting in the rig but, okay, he'll deal with it. "Your turn."

"That I'll know about anyway because I'll be in your head. Fucking circular, this is." Sips his coffee, thinks about it.

"I don't know where to start. I'm a very private person who isn't good at conversing, as you may have guessed. Hrm...well, on the subject of alcohol, I had my first hangover at 14 when I took a bottle of gin from my father's cabinet and went to town on it. I don't mind it in mixes, but I'm not a fan of it straight for that reason. I like bourbon straight out of the bottle when I shared one down the middle with a good friend of mine. It wasn't even ours," he says, squinting in recollection, "was being saved for...something or another, neither of us could remember what. But we decided it was ours."

"Now that sounds like a story." One he wants to hear. It's different, hearing about something than it is experiencing it with someone in their own head. "What happened?"

He shrugs, licks his lips, tightens his grip on his coffee. He didn't expect that much interest. "We'd gotten into a situation where we thought we were going to die. So we drank when we found the bottle. And then we didn't die. Well, rather, I thought we were going to die, and he was certain we weren't. And then we got blitzed on Kentucky bourbon."

"...Who is this guy. I gotta meet him." Anyone that can get Mal drunk is okay in his book.

"He's not in this dome, which is a damn shame. Maybe if you're ever up in Alaska for any godforsaken reason. The kicker is he's from Florida. Talk about climate change," he adds with a smirk at his own joke.

"...that poor bastard." GOd damn why would anyone from Florida end up in Alaska? They don't even have starbucks up there.

"Apparently they really needed his engineering expertice. And I can't blame them for scrambling to snatch him up." His eyebrows cock at York. "Are you trying to picture me drunk? He had to convince me to do it; I was being fairly unreasonable in a lot of ways at the time. Maybe if we almost die you can see me drunk. Or if you say pretty please."

"Pretty please." Without missing a beat. "I have some normal bourbon in the safe."

"You want me to get pissed on bourbon right now? Really? This..." Doesn't seem like an appropriate time, but if now isn't, when is? "I don't really drink in order to get drunk."

"Till the thing that won't be mentioned, neither did I." He shrugs as he rolls off the bed- a literal roll that lands him in a crouch and hey, he's graceful! Until he stumbles over to the safe and okay maybe not so much. He twirls in the combination by feel and offers the bottle to Malcolm. "Go nuts."

"I'm not sure that you heard me." He'll take the bottle. Look at it, read over the label. And set it aside. "I suppose I could if you really need me to be talkative about myself, because then I doubt I'd care too much. What do you want to know?"

"Anything. Everything. What are you afraid of? What makes you wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. What makes you happy. Do you like dogs or cats more? Favorite food, favorite drink, favorite sexual position." He shrugs. "Everything. You're an enigma."

"You'll find out everything soon enough." And there are things York isn't fond of saying. "So, ah." A lick of his lips. "I don't really have any preference of animals. Although Archer has his beagle. And that's fine. I like Porthos when he hasn't sneaked any cheese. I like pineapple? Coffee, I suppose, in nonalcoholic drinks."

"And here I am ask'n. Unless you'd rather skip to plan B." Which he's all for if Mal really wants it, but he's of the mind that Mal doesn't. At all.

That it was said more to spur on conversation than it was to actually offer. "What makes you happy?"

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