goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

He places one last, chaste kiss above York's bad eye. "Shower, shave, and food. I think I'll even be able to keep it down."

"Okay. I'm gonna clean up here. Might wanna let a tech know your shit's in this room before you go wash up in yours." The idea of being away from Mal is thoroughly enticing for all the wrong reasons and a pain in his gut for all the right ones.

But they're not at the 'showering together' stage yet. So. Break.

No, definitely not yet. Everything's too new. Needs to settle down. He leaves, lighter on his feet and not just because of being stripped down. Nabs a tech, says a few words. A shower feels like a miracle, and shaving the overnight stubble makes his face feel like he wasn't just drifting like a homeless person or puking up a night of coffee not terrible long ago.

And being away from York means that he's more himself. The drift falls away bit by bit, and, like York leaving his side to steal some food, he is better able to feel himself and not them as a singular being. His own thoughts in his own head. Better that way, to have time apart.

Food, actual food, and no, not pizza. Actual cooked food from the galley that is meant to be eaten and not swifted out in the middle of the night. He drops heavily onto a bench and can't help but still feel tired despite the rest full of dreams he got. But he's present, more present than he's been since he stepped into the pod.

He turns his shower to scalding so he won't get lost in the chill. Scrubs himself till all the gunk and funk from being in the undersuit for fucking ever is gone, leaving him pink and his scars a stark white against his skin. Actually shaves for the first time in awhile- doesn't even knick himself though the memory is overlaid with having a jaw that's more narrow and a chin that's more pointed and he has to stop for thirty seconds before he cuts himself using Malcolm's muscle memory.

It passes, like it always does, and he finishes cleaning up. Dresses in the usual 'fuck it' uniform of bdus and an oversized sweater (not his fault he's always feeling cold) and gets a tray of veggies. No meat. He doesn't need the protein right now and something fresh'll help. He doesn't actively try to avoid or find Malcolm but he ends up dropping onto the table across from him anyway.

Carolina hovers at his elbow, peering at the assortment with a wrinkled nose. You don't even like broccoli.

While York's gone momentarily vegetarian and fresh, Malcolm apparently had a hankering for the greasiest, fattest meat available. The closest to a fast food burger that was being offered.

There are, of course, looks. Furtive glances over shoulders, of those in the mess. Low conversation. It's the biggest event since the last kaiju that came near this shatterdome, of course there's talk. Malcolm has chosen to try to ignore it all as best as he can. When York arrives and finds himself sitting across the table, the conversation only increases in intensity.

He smiles. A little pale yet, a little light and dreamy, but here, and smiling.

"So." A beat, a snort of laughter before he slumps against the table, spearing his broccoli. "...you...come here often, baby?"

"...You would have been better off not saying anything, just then."

"You've been in my head." Seriously, why is he surprised. "Inappropriate and ill timed jokes are one of my coping mechanisms."

"Oh, that was a joke? So hard to tell." Moving on. Or, well, he'd move on if he had anything to move on to, but instead, he moves on to silence and food.

Silence and food sounds great, honestly. It's not sullen. Nope. Just. Quiet. He doesn't have words to fill the space and right now? He doesn't really want to. FOcuses on eating his vegetables and his salad instead.

Quiet is nice and beats bad not-jokes. Especially since it's so loud in his head. Carolina is nearby. He can see her. It's distracting, but he doesn't say anything about it. Digs into his dessert because damn right he got something sugary and sweet to go with everything else.

Food. Food is good. Tea is better- since when does he drink tea? But it's. Comforting and familiar and he ends the whole thing with an apple. One bite, sit, chew, sip, two bites, sit chew, sip. Sighing. "You can still see her."

It's not a question.

His eyes are tracking her. She's not staying still this time, like a ghost of her wandering between tables, checking out their compatriots. "You deal with this all the time?"

"Mhmm. It's worse when she tries to touch me." It's the worst when she can touch him. When he feels it.

"This is only the second time. I saw her--you know when." He loses track of her, somewhere. Maybe she's...gone, for the moment. Maybe she doesn't like being talked about. "Needs getting used to. Like everything else."

"She might start following you and let me sleep." god that'd be amazing. NOt that he minds her or resents her it's just- it hurts. Having her there when he sleeps. Waking up with her gone.

He can't tell if it's a joke. "That's an unsettling thought that I'll not bother overthinking for now. Maybe when it's discussed with the doctor, it'll resolve itself."

"It's been discussed. The solution is medication! This is me taking them." So she flits and fizzles and fades out of focus- but she's still there.

"That's you. She's not...native to my head. Might just be a side effect."

"This is why you signed that waiver." He shrugs, taking another bite of his apple. "Lemme know if you have any mood swings."

"Isn't that mostly what I've been doing since getting out of the pod?" he says with a hint of self-maligning sarcasm.

"Fair point." He's been- well not perfect but not outside his head as much as he probably could be. "We should probably see my doctor together."

"Together." His spoon pauses in midair. "Like couples counseling. As partners."

"Well my issues are now your issues. So. You get the fun ride too."

"Does that have to mean going together?"

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