December 17, 2002.12.17.02. - pack. food. oj. joint. s'all good [rune-decker][con't from previous scene, north jersey, condo]
(rune)
"It's in my pocket, Decker." Rune replies, as she swings out of the car. Booted feet, the pavement, the usual clatter. The door not quite slammed closed behind her."Don't worry." An amused half-grin as she produces the disk and his knife from her pocket. Were she any other woman, the items would be produced from a purse, but no matter how girly she is, purses have always seemed a little impractical to the Glass Walker Ahroun. Thus: pockets in every coat. Big ones. "I've got your back."
(james)
he's been sitting there for half the day
when he got home (.... home) they were out
so he claimed a spot infront of the plasma
doing considerably better at the game
believe it or not he may have the PSII friggen figured out
or mabe there's something that fuels the determinationafter the last couple of nights with the Howl
he wasn't feeling like running out and whomping on something
but the aggression is there
(still there, floating about under his skin, building up, ready for that tidal wave)
nicely tempered by hanging around with those that actually
have
a sense of humorso rare in his own pack
he had followed her suggestion of finding the grenade launcher
and it worked wonders for his game
this is only red screen of death number four
he keeps his tradition of toasting it with a beer
hands flexing around the controller to work out the kinks
taking a short break while he's not supposed to disturb the disc upon reload... or something like that
(decker)
A grunt as she produces the knife and, more importantly, the little wooden disc. Damn thing took hours to whittle down to its current size and shape, and would take hours and hours more before it was done. And let's not forget the necessity of actually tracking down a spirit 'n shit. Should just have Livingston do it for him, except this was something Decker wanted to do himself."Good to know," muttered, as he slides the knife away and closes the half-dollar-sized wood disc into his palm.
(rune)
The car alarm beepbeeps self-importantly as they walk away. Then beepbeeps again, just as they gain the highest step, just to let them know its on and still working. It's a high-tech alarm system. It'd probably make latté, if you could figure out the buttons.Rune rolls her eyes as she slides her key into the lock, and snorts softly as the door swings open ( - honey, we're hoooooooooo-ooooooooome. - ). The plush carpet muffles the retort of her booted feet, but it's still there, muted and softened as she stalks through the entrance hall and into the living room.
"Figured you already knew it." she tosses over her shoulder, pausing behind the couch - close, but not too close. Decker was there, after all. - to watch James at play. "You doing any better?"
(james)
there's a bag of chinese on the table
he hadn't made it to putting everything in the fridge yet
besides, he was still steadily working his way through the little white boxes
his chopsticks poking out of the almost gone chow mein that began it all
the beer settles down with a thunk on the laquered table
his grip on the controller traded to clean up those last few bites of noodles...still.... loading....
he knew they were coming, and dark eyes swing up as the door opens
grinning around the chopsticks in greeting
(ticking timebomb, motherfucker)
the tv isn't quite as loud as Rune normally has it
in fact, with only two electrical devices on and as low as the volume is
it's obvious tothe power company and neighbors that she. wasn't. home.
nodding through the swallow"Yeh. I can last more than five minutes."
(decker)
"Oh yeah?" smirks Decker, a sliver of challenge there. "Try me."Oh. This'll be good. Two technohopeless Ahroun punching buttons. He sets the disc on the breakfast bar, as close to the wall as possible (no, this ain't no miniature-sized coaster) and then comes across to vault over the back of the sofa. Lands next to James with a whooshthump of cushions compressing, grabs up one of the controllers while the loading bar hits 90%, 95%, 98%.
"Hell're we playin' again?"
(rune)
"Good." The faintest suggestion of a smile. "You'll be ready for the pack tournament in no time."She hasn't taken off her coat. She hasn't tossed her keys on the counter. She hasn't kicked off her boots. She doesn't even head to the fridge for a beer. Instead, she pulls her cellphone from her left pocket, punches in the code for her voicemail. You have one message. Listens to the message, and feels her mouth tighten into a lowering frown.
"I gotta go. Got some things to do." Decker's not looking, - she checks, a surreptitious sidelong glance tossed in his general direction - and so she settles her hands on James' dreadlocks, twsting through the rough, thick vines of hair briefly by way of greeting and farewell. And then: she lets go, steps back, steps away. "Might be back tonight, but don't wait up."
Don't wait up. " - you boys be nice - " She's already out the door.
(james)
a brow lifts
he didn't say how much more than five minutes
and it's notmuch
this is only the second time he's played it
the first time it took him half the morning to figure out how to get it all loaded and on
much less playing
the resultant WHUMPH of Decker's weight on the couch helping him move over a bit
there's room enough for twoas Decker's watching the loading screen
that grin grows at the tangle of fingers in his hair
tilting up to flash that grin at her"Bye Rune."
not getting up
not walking her out
not even grabbing her for hello/farewell tonsil hockey
see? he can behave"I call it red screen of death, think y'all called it CounterStrike"
y'all?
(oh, James.)(decker)
"Later Rune," muttered, barely diverting an ounce of attention away from the screen, where the crackling pseudo-radiocom voice is giving him his mission objectives. That's all right. One ounce is enough for his health to make a staggering nosedive to 46%.Punching buttons? Make that mashing buttons. Rune would be having a hard time controlling her laughter if she were here.
Decker might affect laziness in his broad sprawl on the couch in contrast to James' avid pleasedon'tlemmerunintothatWALLagain-ness, his eyes are glued to the screen. There's a borderline panic in the way his righthand fingers (at last he's learned not to use his thumb on the trigger button, because thumbs just don't click fast enough) pump the X and the O on the controlpad. Though not as...vocal as Rune, he's sure as hell not as good either. Around the corner his guy strafes, guns blazing to killthatfucker--wait. No. That's a pillar, Decker. Shit. Red on his screen, again and again - is someone shooting him?
Pivot, strafe blindly to the right (get behind cover!), swing left, swing right, who the fuck-hell's shootin' at me...!?
(james)
he? has learned that wall is a good thing
he just hasn't exactly accomplished the finesse of brakes
getting there, though
slowly but surely
the resultant OOF wasn't quite as loud, it seems
and the wall keeps the initial bursts of gunfire off of him
dive behind the square splotchy thing over there
sneeeeak up around the stack of things over... here
duck .... DUCK!
that's not your screen... that's the Modi's
DUCK JAMES
(oh yea, thatbutton)yes... loooove your character
don't kiiiiil yo...James.
Don't. Kill. The. Character.James!
apparently the distraction of the resultant split screen was a little too much
and his side suddenly becomes this festive shade of
.red.(decker)
So that's what it feels like to win for once. There was a deep, deep, deep deep deep satisfaction in watching poor James' screen go red. But he ain't gonna gloat over beating a Cliath.He ain't gonna gloat. He ain't gloating.
He ain't....oh yeah he's gloating. Smirking with both sides of the mouth for once. Practically a Cheshire cat expression for the Modi, here. Tossing the controller down (hell no, he ain't pushin' lady luck tonight), he settles back in the seat. Grunts, "Try usin' yer fingers 'stead o' yer thumb." Then, as consolation, the Modi claps James on the shoulder and uses the Bone Gnawer as a support as he cliiimbs out of the big deep leather sofa, back to his feet. "Luc wastes me all the time. Fuckin' appallin'. Wann'an OJ?"
(james)
his grin?
is far more natural
the wide, easy grin they all know and love
(amazing what hanging around with the Howl did for him)
actually laughing to see that cheshire smile on the Modiyes
this would be one of the rare times he actually remembers the Get is younger than he
by Gaia, actually looking like he's enjoying himself
far be it from the Gnawer to disrupt this
muscle through his back shifting weight in brace
helping the climb out of the quicksand pillows"Yeh, would be great. And you'll note I haven't made a point to play infront of him, yet. I'll play against him when I actually have a chance."
his controller is set down with a little more ceremony
reaching to dig through the big bag of little boxes
finding something else to munch on(decker)
Sloshing OJ into two glasses set side-by-side, rowdy trendy bartender-style, Decker snorts and shoots a wry glance over the bartop. "Yeah that'll be never. Kid even kicks Rune's ass. Swear his daddy musta been a playstation, get 'im all genenically programmed."Genenically? That didn't sound right. Capping the OJ jug again, he swings it back into the fridge and brings the glasses back to the TV in time to see James hit the Red Screen of Death again.
"Hate it when those shits sneak up on ya like that," he sympathizes.
(james)
"You'd think I'd catch on, too"okay, red screens: win, James:lose
time to put it down for good
switching controller for glass of juice
plucking a box from the bag
sliding the bag on the table back to where the Modi was sittingthen he folds
hand sliding beneath the lowest edge of the couch
and out it comes complete with lighter and joint accessorysparked
lit
passed(okay, so he's a goddamned domestic... here and waiting with dinner and joint)
(decker)
Yeah, James keeps that up and Decker won't even need Imogen anymore. Not like the woman had a single shred of domesticity, anyway. Only offered drinks because she was Fianna, and alcohol ran in their veins instead of blood.A grunt of thanks as he takes the joint, takes a hit. Blew off some good rage coupla days ago (though it kept fuckin' building again), so he isn't nearly as cranky as he could be this close to the full. 'Course, he had all sorts of other problems now.
Fuck it. Neither here nor there. Think 'bout that later.
Pack. Food. OJ. Joint. 'Sall good."Oh," as this occurs to him, "that Fianna Noah ain't welcome on pack land no more."
(james)
there's an edge to his smile though
even with the easy grin
that hasn't gone away
he hasn't blown off the Rage
but it's been mellowed out by a few good days
(ticking timebomb, baby, just gimme a light)he takes the joint instead
braced in teeth for the hissing inhale
hands busy opening the little white box of chinese goodness
then it's a smooth switch to pass back"That Fianna Noah?"
on plumed exhale of smoke
yeh, Decker, fill me in
he may have picked up partial thoughts and feelings while he was with the Howl
but he's pretty clueless on the entire situation(decker)
A grunt, mood souring just like that. Maybe it was the memory of holdin back when he woulda liked to splatter that redgold ass all over the nearest wall. Maybe it's just the resonance between packmates: your rage feeds mine feeds yours.Likely it's both.
"Fianna Full-Moon. Uh." Decker's no good at descriptions. "You'll know 'im when ya see 'im. Real big guy, like half a foot taller 'n me. Blue eyes blondish hair. Gonna be wearin the dishonor glyph on his fuckin head fer a coupla days too."
Joint passes back. He takes it, sucks, holds.
...and exhales. With it, words smoke-tautened and anger-flattened, "Yanked Imogen 'round some, almost raged on her. So," another hit to precede the logical conclusion, though he lets this one out a beat later, "he ain't welcome no more."
(james)
he listens in thoughtful chew
until that last parta grunt, mood souring just like that
a few words, and lightning cracks
what's so mellow quickly coils
the tension running beneath tanned skin all but physically visable
while chopsticks move in the food, they don't pluck any out"Got it."
taught, grunted
shoulders roll out that sudden steel band that stiffens them
it's understandable why the Modi wasn't happy with it
Imogen's his mate
strange the mellow Gnawer would get up in arms about it
Imogen's his friend(decker)
A last thoughtful hit, and then he flexes forward to pass the joint back to James at the other end of the sofa. OJ swishes around in his glass, leaving a fading pale-yellow residue, and then he lifts it for a gulp or five. Leans forward again. Sets it down between his feet braced up against the coffee table, and snags up a box of food on the way back."Letcha in on a secret."
Whatever got the mellow Gnawer up in arms, Decker probably likes it. On the plasma TV, the please insert a disc blue screen glares blankly, and he watches this for a while before pawing a hand back over his head to curve around the back of his neck, acting as a rest against which he can lean his skull.
"Kinda hopin' he shows up again." Glance over. Thunder to lightning, and a jagged flash of something that was either smirk or sneer or snarl. "Know what I mean?"
(james)
he literally
shakes. it. off.
dreads swinging back over his shoulders
muscular arm stretching to pluck the joint from packmate's fingers
and there's a smile on his face
it's different than any they had seen beforeit's been a week of that
Rune and Decker had seen him genuinely happy with Lila
and now? it's twisted into a hardened edge
something darker, something that mirrors the swollen moon above
there's a vindictive streak a mile wide in the Gnawer
and more patience than is good for a Saint to back it
the Me, too surely doesn't have to be spoken aloudthat's when he rises
slowly
the long feline stretch doing what it can to smooth the hackles down
he knows Decker took care of it, so that's good enough for now
you can bet he'll be there for Round Two
(there is always a Round Two)
leg lifting to simply step over the table"Name one."
head tilting sideways, dreads swinging to peruse the DVDs
he hasn't seen most of them, so it wouldn't matter what the Modi chose
he hasn't figured out the player, persay
but he did figure out how to get the PSII to play the movies
even if it was by pure mishap[fade to black]
Posted by james at December 17, 2002 12:00 AM
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