goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"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?"

York's drunk, and they're not synched up. It's hardly an ideal situation. "Maybe when we're in a better position to do so." Which isn't a no, surprisingly. Kissing him had felt right. And that's scary, too.

"Reading, I suppose. Learning. Sparring. Explosions. Pineapple."

"One of these things is not like the others." He singsongs, grinning. "Explosions? Really. Like. Hollywood style or gigantic fuck off bone rattling i don't know if I just shat my spleen or came in my pants' booms? Cuz you will get a LOT of those in the rig. For organic creatuers Kaiju are surprisingly combustable."

"And there's one of the shallower reasons to want to be a pilot." He does love him a big boom. "I can rig just about anything to explode if I put my mind to it. But a good action movie is fine, too."

"Note to self, don't piss you off." He snorts and shuffles back to his bed, flopping down. "Die Hard or Red? Also, and this is important, Which bond?"

"Why not both? Die Hard for the story, Red for the laughs. And do not make me pick a Bond. That's unfair."

"Good answer. C'mon up here and I'll rig one." He has to tug a few things out from under the bed before he can actually set the screen up, but there it is. His contraband movie rig. Small screen, tiny ass DVD player, laptop. Simple things from a simpler time.

"...Are you serious?" But this time it's asked with a growing smile, moving hesitantly over to the bed. "Room enough for two here?"

"Mhmm. Think I got some popcorn somewhere too." He manages to get the screen and laptop set up, the bulk of his pillows shoved up against the wall so there's room to sit, and balances the coffee carafe on the nightstand so he can drink more. "Pick a flick, I got all of 'em."

Well, in that case, he's going to take his shoes off and climb on up. "You're going to give me that kind of power over a library of movies? Then we are absolutely watching at least one Bond film." He's assuming this is a one time offer of just one movie. But maybe York intends for it to be as long as they please.

"I didn't mean period, Mal. I meant to start." He snorts as he cues up his collection on the laptop, the background a photo of him, Carolina, Wash, Maine- all of them piled into a bunk doing more or less just what they're about to do. "We're bonding. Through a mutual love of explosions and spies."

"Right, then we're starting with Bond and moving on to Terminator, and then we'll see where this takes us." Movie nights are not usually so cuddly for him. But he can certainly make the exception here. "You look happy," he notes of the picture, and why wouldn't he be. "All of you. It's a good look. How long ago was this?"

"Can do." He actually rolls a dice from the side table to pick the Bond Movie (Tomorrow Never Dies) and cues up the first Terminator film. Popcorn can wait. He blinks a little at his desktop- it's been awhile since he used the damn thing, and smiles. "Coupla years. We're all still around."

A beat.

"Well. Almost all of us. Everyone else is still running in the other Shatterdome. I wasn't welcome."

That is cute that he has a die just sitting there. He'll have to ask about that later. "Wasn't welcome? Why not?"

"Clair's father runs the Dome." He shrugs. "Kinda didn't want me there after. The twins kicked up a fuss- I think Maine and Sigurd said some shit they probably shouldn't have- hell even Reggie wanted me to stay but..."

"But after what happened, he put his foot down, as a grieving father." Understandable. Unfortunate, but understandable.

"Well, you've got your good memories, too. And we'll make new ones. Come now, let's not dwell."

"Mhmm." He flops back on the bed, legs crossed at the ankle, and offers Mal one of his pillows. "I am all for making new memories."

This is cozy. A little uncomfortably so, but he eases up as the first movie goes on. Malcolm is not usually one for commentating, but Bond movies? He's commentating. He's seen them all so many stupid times. They make popcorn and curl up for the next movie, finishing cold stale coffee and maybe sharing the rest of that jaeger blood, wincing or laughing at certain flavours that come up. They won't get drunk off sharing the rest of the flask, and Malcolm loosens up a lot.

A lot.

Even just this, popping in a third movie (might as well Die Hard, right), he's really starting to feel connected to Taylor on a level only Trip had been able to get on before, and even still, it goes deeper than that. It becomes nice. It feels like they've done this every week since York's gotten here.

Maybe drifting shouldn't be so frightening. Once this feeling fades, the fear will come back, he knows, but this feeling of rightness is pleasant. Once they drift, won't it feel that way all the time?

Terminator is full of stories, anecdotes really. Shit he and the others did, shit he tried as a kid. Comparing the machines in the movie to jeagers and muttering how Lockdown was better even if she wasn't so big. The popcorn is buttery and the coffee is bitter but the blood is sweet and easy between them.

It's nice.

Better than he thought it could be and he's well on his way to invading Malcolm's personal space, arm looped casually around his shoulders, cheek resting against his hair. Warm and comfortable like he hasn't been in forever. "Okay, trufax: My family and I would marathon these for Christmas. Every year."

"Mm, no, my family is only big on more...traditional traditions. Mass on Christmas. And a lot of food. Sometimes I'd do a Bond marathon in my room for New Years, but that's about it, I suppose."

"Alright then. Christmas this year, Diehard marathon, New years, Bond marathon. We got the important shit figured out." He shrugs.

"Any other marathons I should be warned about?" he asks with a sly little grin, tilting his head a bit to look up at York. "Maybe we should spread them out over the year. I doubt kaiju stop to celebrate major holidays at the end of the year, if they even know what a year is."

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