[Thank god one of them is managing to not be full-on stupid. Ryder visibly relaxes with his confirmation, pleased with both parts. She's glad that the agency or whatever is offering that basic decency, but selfishly she's even more relieved to have someone on her side around. If it turned out that he wasn't cool with queer shit, then she really didn't know what she would have done... Instant end to this precocious friendship.]
Good... Um, me too -- er, ace. Bi-ace, or, um. Yeah.
[And trans, but that one still feels weird to say out loud after over a decade. Just might have something to do with limiting her socialization and talking about much safer topics being difficult already. She'll have to wear one of her pins the next time she sees him.
...Huh. So she's looking forward to that. Weird!]
...Y-you must -- get tired of th-this, but -- you're pan and you -- cook? Ba dum tshh.
[Now she gets to join in on the fun, eyes widening with disbelief. There's no way!!]
You're -- fuckin' with mm-me. But it's so -- ?
[LIKE...HELLO? PAN WITH A PAN?? Get with it, people. God.]
Oh. You, um, before -- [Ryder sets down her container so she can gesture at her own wrist where he'd given a hint of another tattoo earlier. Now that they're out of that suffocating restaurant...!] Can I see? N'how many...?
[He gives a solemn shake of his head as if the lack of bad puns is a tragedy of humanity. In just a second though, he's back to grinning.]
Sure! I don't have as many as I'd like, but I've got some bigger ones.
[He shrugs out of his suit jacket and, now that he's free, he wonders why he hadn't peeled it off before. He's down to that V-cut shirt and some bare arms. Or, would-be bare. He's got a full sleeve done on one side, a graveyard using negative space to display the shape of graves upon his forearm. Dark trees reach up into a darker sky, the middle of his arm a black spot save for a hanging lantern illuminating one small portion. The dark goes through his upper arm where it breaks at the jawline of a skull, its maw parted for the petals that spill from its teeth and the celosia that spear up through the mouth and eyes. It goes to his shoulder and so still winds up a little cut off by the t-shirt sleeves. Same goes for the other arm where a stitched heart sits on his shoulder.]
I've got a bit of a memorial on my back but that's nothing fancy to look at. Hoping to get the other arm filled out one day.
[Oh no, she thinks to herself as she leans in eagerly to see better. He's hot.
She'd known it before, more abstractly. Teo was an attractive guy with warm eyes and a smile that, when you weren't busy crumbling into an anxious mess, made you feel good. Asexual or not, she could definitely appreciate what he's got going on, even if there's an instinctual part of herself that pulls back from pretty people in self-preservation. Now, though, Ryder's getting to judge a piece of him hidden behind a different part of him visible, and see that he not only does he have a solid aesthetic, but he doesn't settle for shitty quality or not take care of himself after meeting his goal. It's good. It makes him, regrettably, a hot person by her own standards. Fuck.]
S'beautiful...
[Maybe it would have been nicer to hear that his ink was cool, or whatever, but she can't help but fall into that gentler awe. She curls her hand into a fist to hold onto the urge to reach out and run her fingers over the ink like that will help her or at all be appropriate. Nope, not going to be that stupid.]
...Glad to contribute to -- to the funding for m-more.
[She definitely couldn't not pay him now, with the dream of more out there in the open. His basic needs are, you know, also good to meet.]
Um. Can't get -- to m-m-mine, um. Except -- [At the very least, she can hook her finger on the fabric looped around her neck to bring it down enough that he can see the exclamation point striking across her adam's apple.] ...S'got flowers, too. On -- on my arm, I mean. Mane of -- peonies, mmmostly.
[He doesn't mind being told it's beautiful. His face softens, in fact. A lot of people would look at a tattoo like he's got and attribute it to being grim. Maybe it is a little. But, at least for him, it's something much more.]
Thanks. [He says, before she even talks of contribution and that has him laugh.
He looks surprised at the first tattoo, but then he's smiling again.]
That's cool! It's clever. An exclamation on the quiet girl. [Must have hurt like hell to get it done on her throat. He respects that.] I'd love to see the peonies at some point if you're ever wearing short sleeves.
[Maybe it's a bit grim, but Ryder is also a monsterfucker in her soul, plus a fan of poetry. Of course beautiful would encompass grim things, too.
"The quiet girl" manages to not sound like a dig, this time. Instead of shrinking into herself like she's trying to be a crumpled piece of paper that caught fire, she just glances away when she feels the embarrassed flush rise through her. The edge of her lip twitches, almost a smile. The tattoo had always been more of an act of defiance -- a dare to anyone that tried to perceive her for too long. His view of it isn't so bad, though. She returns her hand to her lap and nods.]
Mm. Yeah. ...Th-the next time, we. Um. We can just be n-n-normal. Comfortable. ...S'much as can be.
[Ryder still can't believe she's actually looking forward to that. Is this what it's like to make a friend? She'll have to ask her mom later.]
[Their normal probably being different from literally anyone else's definition of it. But they'd be themselves, in so much as they ever let themselves be. It could be nice.]
We'll just have to pick out a spot. I don't know about you, but my new place isn't all that cozy yet.
[She leans forward and opens her mouth in her automatic urge to respond, then seems to realize that the situation is strange. Here she was, about to invite an escort over to her home so he could see what was under her shirt, but not while he was working? Feels...incorrect.
But then, is she supposed to invite him over now? Even though it isn't like that? Ryder frowns, adjusting her jaw so she can grind teeth that didn't usually get ground for the sake of doing something. Things sure are tough. Well, it'll get figured out one way or another.]
Umm, my place... S'small, but it doesn't -- suck. I think. I -- don't really know wh-what the-the standard is... Um...
[She didn't clean, since bringing him to her bed wasn't the plan. Is that fine? Or should she definitely wait for the nebulous "next time"? But then what if he changes his mind? ...Then is doing it now kind of creepy? Is it taking advantage of the dynamic? But that's what she was already doing! Ugh, her head hurts, even though she didn't even get to drink enough to earn one. Damn.]
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storywalks) wrote2022-03-03 11:13 pm
no subject
Good... Um, me too -- er, ace. Bi-ace, or, um. Yeah.
[And trans, but that one still feels weird to say out loud after over a decade. Just might have something to do with limiting her socialization and talking about much safer topics being difficult already. She'll have to wear one of her pins the next time she sees him.
...Huh. So she's looking forward to that. Weird!]
...Y-you must -- get tired of th-this, but -- you're pan and you -- cook? Ba dum tshh.
no subject
He gives an understanding nod and mutters "nice" at her coming out. But it's next thing that really gets him, instantly making him laugh.]
No one else gets it! Or they don't catch it.
[He pats his hip.]
Got a pan tattoo right here.
no subject
[Now she gets to join in on the fun, eyes widening with disbelief. There's no way!!]
You're -- fuckin' with mm-me. But it's so -- ?
[LIKE...HELLO? PAN WITH A PAN?? Get with it, people. God.]
Oh. You, um, before -- [Ryder sets down her container so she can gesture at her own wrist where he'd given a hint of another tattoo earlier. Now that they're out of that suffocating restaurant...!] Can I see? N'how many...?
no subject
badpuns is a tragedy of humanity. In just a second though, he's back to grinning.]Sure! I don't have as many as I'd like, but I've got some bigger ones.
[He shrugs out of his suit jacket and, now that he's free, he wonders why he hadn't peeled it off before. He's down to that V-cut shirt and some bare arms. Or, would-be bare. He's got a full sleeve done on one side, a graveyard using negative space to display the shape of graves upon his forearm. Dark trees reach up into a darker sky, the middle of his arm a black spot save for a hanging lantern illuminating one small portion. The dark goes through his upper arm where it breaks at the jawline of a skull, its maw parted for the petals that spill from its teeth and the celosia that spear up through the mouth and eyes. It goes to his shoulder and so still winds up a little cut off by the t-shirt sleeves. Same goes for the other arm where a stitched heart sits on his shoulder.]
I've got a bit of a memorial on my back but that's nothing fancy to look at. Hoping to get the other arm filled out one day.
no subject
She'd known it before, more abstractly. Teo was an attractive guy with warm eyes and a smile that, when you weren't busy crumbling into an anxious mess, made you feel good. Asexual or not, she could definitely appreciate what he's got going on, even if there's an instinctual part of herself that pulls back from pretty people in self-preservation. Now, though, Ryder's getting to judge a piece of him hidden behind a different part of him visible, and see that he not only does he have a solid aesthetic, but he doesn't settle for shitty quality or not take care of himself after meeting his goal. It's good. It makes him, regrettably, a hot person by her own standards. Fuck.]
S'beautiful...
[Maybe it would have been nicer to hear that his ink was cool, or whatever, but she can't help but fall into that gentler awe. She curls her hand into a fist to hold onto the urge to reach out and run her fingers over the ink like that will help her or at all be appropriate. Nope, not going to be that stupid.]
...Glad to contribute to -- to the funding for m-more.
[She definitely couldn't not pay him now, with the dream of more out there in the open. His basic needs are, you know, also good to meet.]
Um. Can't get -- to m-m-mine, um. Except -- [At the very least, she can hook her finger on the fabric looped around her neck to bring it down enough that he can see the exclamation point striking across her adam's apple.] ...S'got flowers, too. On -- on my arm, I mean. Mane of -- peonies, mmmostly.
no subject
Thanks. [He says, before she even talks of contribution and that has him laugh.
He looks surprised at the first tattoo, but then he's smiling again.]
That's cool! It's clever. An exclamation on the quiet girl. [Must have hurt like hell to get it done on her throat. He respects that.] I'd love to see the peonies at some point if you're ever wearing short sleeves.
no subject
"The quiet girl" manages to not sound like a dig, this time. Instead of shrinking into herself like she's trying to be a crumpled piece of paper that caught fire, she just glances away when she feels the embarrassed flush rise through her. The edge of her lip twitches, almost a smile. The tattoo had always been more of an act of defiance -- a dare to anyone that tried to perceive her for too long. His view of it isn't so bad, though. She returns her hand to her lap and nods.]
Mm. Yeah. ...Th-the next time, we. Um. We can just be n-n-normal. Comfortable. ...S'much as can be.
[Ryder still can't believe she's actually looking forward to that. Is this what it's like to make a friend? She'll have to ask her mom later.]
no subject
[Their normal probably being different from literally anyone else's definition of it. But they'd be themselves, in so much as they ever let themselves be. It could be nice.]
We'll just have to pick out a spot. I don't know about you, but my new place isn't all that cozy yet.
no subject
[She leans forward and opens her mouth in her automatic urge to respond, then seems to realize that the situation is strange. Here she was, about to invite an escort over to her home so he could see what was under her shirt, but not while he was working? Feels...incorrect.
But then, is she supposed to invite him over now? Even though it isn't like that? Ryder frowns, adjusting her jaw so she can grind teeth that didn't usually get ground for the sake of doing something. Things sure are tough. Well, it'll get figured out one way or another.]
Umm, my place... S'small, but it doesn't -- suck. I think. I -- don't really know wh-what the-the standard is... Um...
[She didn't clean, since bringing him to her bed wasn't the plan. Is that fine? Or should she definitely wait for the nebulous "next time"? But then what if he changes his mind? ...Then is doing it now kind of creepy? Is it taking advantage of the dynamic? But that's what she was already doing! Ugh, her head hurts, even though she didn't even get to drink enough to earn one. Damn.]
no subject
No standard. I mean, I guess there's what's normal with clients but we already decided to ditch client-normal for normal-normal.
[Normal no longer sounds like a word.]
Just... whatever you wanna do.