June 03, 2004.06.03.04. - ball in play [tristan][riverfront]
(james)
it's not much more than a hole in the wall, really, this seedy little nickle-arcade
shoved in amongst the other half-neglected and decaying once-businesses
but classic Pinball games it does - gloriously! - have
and it's enough to wrap up the Ahroun's moon-inspired attentionthe dreadlocked raggedyman is settled on one labeled "Space Cadet"
near twenty-year old machine parked on the habitat borderline
barely contained by the security gates which roll ricketyly down in another few hours
shaded by the awning, it's meant to draw the video junky crowd further in
but right now it works to keep the Gnawer Elder occupied
yet constantly cooled by the ever-present early morning windfingers snapping buttons to keep the rocketship symbolizing ball in motion
beeps, blips, clangs, and other various sound effects spilling onto the street
concerted with the cacaphanous sounds clamoring further inside
brilliant display of fractious neon lights bounce off skin bared by A-line shirt
wifebeater clinging to the sweeps and planes of leanly muscular torso
every one in a while, the strobes highlight dark lines hidden by thinly white cotton
matching up bodymod patterns to the swirly inks tribalizing inner right armas the metal ball careens uncontrollably out of a blackhole hyperspace launch
there's little James can do that lengthens the paddles enough to stop it
much to the owner's relief, instead of punishing the saucey machine for such affront
he digs into a BDU pocket for another quarter before the game's irreversibly overRelaunch in 10... 9.... 8.... 7.... 6...
(tristan)
Riverfront is full of little holes in the wall, be they arcades or hotels, or a certain hotel just down from a certain arcade all on the same little street that hides the dregs of society from the other, finer, more expensive areas of town. There are a ton of hotel-notells when they are needed, and no one – no.one. has seen or heard anything from the kin for the past 3 days other then some message on James’ phone thats with Rumor so maybe he got the message and maybe he didn’t. Said only, though some heavy breathing laughter, “won’t be home for 3 days. am fine. oh no you don....click”Well. Anyone who knows the pretty boy kin can guess what he’s been up too. And if you don’t know him, that big ass grin on his face pretty much tells the story as he sees raggedy man playing pinball, and heads that way.
As the countdown continues (5... 4... 3...) Lean form presses up against James, long arm slung over his shoulder to allow fingers spread across Eagle Branded chest as he murmurs across his ear. “Well helllllllllllooooooo handsome...” and rests chin on his brother’s shoulder.
(james)
lean form passes the swath of Rage crackling around the Full Moon
chin nestles into the pillow of dreads slipsliding down one shoulder
the others seeming to reach and tangle around the slung arm as James' head turns"Well h'loooooo y'rsel'."
chuckled as another quarter's liberated from the lint armies of his pocket
there's little doubt he saw that Kool-Aide grin on his brother's profile
not to mention the Fostern has the ability to, y'know, smell
all but cracking up as the little hints expand themselves into full-fledged scandalit's only the zipping pinball that saves his decorum and Tristan's sure-to-come teasing
honest"Dunn think I need a ev'n ask wha' you been up to.... 'r.... " snickered "IN to. C'n he ev'n wa'k?"
(tristan)
He just grins knowing full well that James always knows. Even though curls are still damp from the shower taken just before finally vacating the motel room with the broken bed, and the paper thin walls... and he also knows the teasing has only just barely begun.Dark eyes (sparkling [worried very, very, very carefully hidden away underneath] even) watch the ball being put into play, fingertips teasing across branded chest in lazy man’s caress as he tips his head to bury his face in James’ neck and inhale deeeeeeeeeeeply of his scent, and of the rage that drives everyone else away and mostly? drives him absolutely crazy... teasing nip of skin there, before chin returns to rest on shoulder.
Wicked grin spreads wider still. “Barely, but he’s a long ass flight during which he can recouperate.” [Ah – there’s reason for the sadness/worry buried so deeply] hand pulls away from chest and shoulder, then returns, a picture in hand.... Dustin. Full. Dress. Uniform. (oh and we knoooooooooow the boy’s weaknesses....) “Something about a man home on shore leave....” all but puuuuuuuuurrrrrrred across James’ ear.
Scandalous, indeed!
(james)
the ball rockets around the machine to a constant racket of electronic sounds
lights strobing erratic reflection all along the lazily teased chest
even though deep umber watches the zipping ball with raptorous intent
fingertips can feel the shuddering muscle that signals laughter
(ticklish, Jamey-boy.... or is it another response, altogether, to that negligent nip and moist, humid, exhaled breath.....)
sound rolling soft thunder out of his chest lost in the arcarde's wall of video noise
(... oh and that puuuuurrrr....)then there's the unmistakable sound of a game's mechanical pity
Crash Bonus! 1500.
now unoccupied hands reaching to SNATCH the photo from the kinsman's fingers"Whee'heeeeeeeellll nah." punctuated with a low but rather loud whistle, picture delegated to one hand - at arm's length, of course - so the other can wrap up in all-too-loose to be effective sleeper hold, finger's buried in damp curls about all that could really be considered a hold on the prettyboikin "Dunn ev'n know he mil'tary..... dunn he look all sharp n manly.....'n -"
neck twists
grip tightens
ball waiting for launch completely ignored
directing one Tristan ear to the vicinity of one pair of James lips
and their chuckling, deliberately and unforgivably, un. merciful.
(we know the boy's weaknesses, indeed)
growl"- seeeeeeeeexy."
(tristan)
“hey!” fingers flex and reach automatically for the picture now held at arms length away from him, startled laughter as fingers trail along arm, not trying overly hard to get that picture back, knowing it will be returned, teasing blunt nails over sensitive skin of inner elbow, curling along bicep before smoothing across chest again...smooth rumblings felt under the masking sounds of the game, his soft moan as fingers slide into his curls is barely breathed past parted lips as fingers tighten and pull and...
ooooooohmygodhejustgrowledand we know... ohhh he knows exactly what that does to him... and the chosen words don’t help much (or....uh... help a lot) the sensations that scream under still highly sensitive skin... he lets loose a soft whimper, that grin impossibly got just that much bigger as his knees feel a little weak... good thing that arm is still around his brother... contented sigh follows.. (was it good for you?)
“Doesn’t he though....? Of course, with the wrinkles we put into that uniform, he may have to get a brand new set rather then attempt to iron them out again...” Chuckled, not in the least bit sheepishly either....
(james)
the deep growl rolls into the cadence of amused chuckle
(oh yes he did)
twitching diminutive struggle to shy from tickling nails
relaxing as attack turns to smooth
gripped fingers softening from steel to fond ruffle through curls"Carefu' nah, kiddo." the Ahroun is still far too amused, slipping the picture carefully into Tristan's wanderingly smooth touch so that it won't wrinkle by any fault of his, now free hand patting his brother's still stuck across muscular chest "Got me 'noth'r.... ball...... here a take care a.... won' catch'eh if yeh swoon...."
case in point - lever's stretched and piston slams home
sending the pinball screeaaaaming back into orbit
weight shifts to lean a little more over the play arena
countering Tristan's collapsing weight against himself as well as the sturdy fiberglass-metal side
fingers slapping paddles into play as he pretends to ignore the violinist's oozing melt"Dunn need a siddown, do yeh?"
pretends!
for.... not. even. a. second.
not with how viciously sharp that smile is hiding on the other side of dreadlocks creating a heavily swinging curtain
(for at this point, he expects the ruined and wrinkled uniform to be discovered tucked securely into his brother's pillow)(tristan)
Got me another.... ball...And he’s laughing again, and after fond ruffle, tucking his face into those dreads before nipping at soft skin of James’ neck once more.. playful, affectionate (....horny. what is it about getting some, that only makes you want it mooooooooooore...) as he pulls away to tuck the picture into his pocket again... admitting what they both already know.. “growl at me like that again, and I will most definitely be swooning... at the very least.”
a tug on dread, as he pulls away, only enough to give the Ahroun room to continue playing, sliding to the side (oh, but still so very close) to watch the ball as skilled hands send it careening through the little point-giving mazes....
As for the uniform? Oh no. got one better. Fingers finally pull away, to tuck into the chain draped around his neck, hooking into and lifting enough to jangle the dogtags hanging against muscular chest. Yes, Dustin will get into a little bit of trouble for ‘loosing’ them, but both agreed it would be worth it. And an oh. so very. bland. “So, how’re you?” that doesn’t at all match the teasing grin....
(james)
James growls again
whether it's at the nip, tug, or blatant admission....
only the Ahroun will know
he's being very careful to swallow growing - lopsided - smile
head ducking down in gameplay concentration
highly convenient dreads swinging to gravity's call
blocking whatever indication the action couldn't hide"Niiiiiiii'e."
though this time, his eyes don't pull from the game in approval
diligently working the pinball towards the mission selection targets
then winging it up onto the launchpad for acceptance and an oodle of precious points
Tristan isn't the only one contradicting tone and intention
as he's blithely trying to pass off his more than obvious fuckeredness
James does a little of his own verbal magic
the casual ease of his tones don't match the darkly dangerous glimmer in deep umber eyes
or the line of tension through his shoulders that may hint at what else inspires such deep-chested growls
much less the reason the Full Moon is out alone, tonight, taking out his aggressions on nickle-games"M' good." slapzingbaBINGwhoopwhoopwhoooooopSCORE "Jus' playin' s'me ol' fav'rit's.... waitin' a Im'gen gettin' back a me 'bout tho' print'."
(tristan)
dearsweetgaia
he did it again.
(and there isn’t even a hint of ‘whoops’ there either, is there...) and he just rests a hand on the edge of the pinball machine, careful not to obstruct his view, even as the shivering delight tightens in bands through his spine.... “ooooooooooooohyourevil....veryveryevil....”very. obviously. reaching down to. ahem. adjust. rather obvious. um. problem.
He reads his brother well, and knows there are other things going on, having gotten the lowdown from Kemp, and a bit from Rumor too. A nod, slight then as he watches the play before lifting a brow with a grin. “Well, if you finish anytime soon, how bout dinner and drinks... my treat...”
which brings laughter then, though it’s not exactly certain why until further words explain... “Dustin gave me what he’d saved from his pay... said he coulda gotten more but they didn’t accept me as wife nor kemp as our kiddo... though now? they call him Klinger....”
(james)
James was doing damned well during the eeeevil tease
and the obvious reach to adjust away an obvious problem
and, even, the invitation for dinner and drinks
at most betraying his attention with a covertly smug expression
or the lifted brow of indicative interest
mmmhming appropriately as information surfaces
and he even seems to avoid producing another oh. so. deliberate. growl
almost at the point of glancing up to offer a pretty "see I'm behaving" smilebut that curve of flushed lips does not quiet make an appearance
for it is only at the very end that the Fostern bursts out in barked laughter
pinball a sudden lost (CRASH BONUS! 1500!) cause rattling into the proverbial docking bay
lanky raggedyman half collapsing onto the acrylically-plexiglassed-plastic scratched and dented surface
suddenly getting the mental image of Dustin in Tristan's cheerleading outfit, with AK accessories and issued field boots....
.....and it's entirely. too much. to bear."Please tell me you dunn lennim y'r......"
he simply cannot complete the pleading phrase for the laughter falling out of control
a practically collapsing giggle-fit from the Rage-torn Ahroun
not exactly the expected behavior beneath a heavily pregnant moon
but they do say the full does strange things to people.....long torso folding smooth curve, allowing forehead to rest on wrists
dreads spilling spiderly tangle across the Space Cadet machine
utterly unable to bring himself to launch the remaining pinballbecause he won't be able to look at the play area again, for the rest of his life, without seeing Dustin standing mightily astride two of the decorative planets.... in Tristan's cheerleading getup.....
(tristan)
The bland reactions, the grinning innocence, all pale in comparison to the Big Mean Monster of an FullMoon Fostern suddenly.......collapsing.....
in a giggle fit....Laughter is instant, even if at first it doesn’t quite click, until he realizes the –only- thing he could lend him that would insight such riotous laughter would be the now infamous cheerleading outfit.... and he’s fully indulging in his own collapse in laughter, leaning against the side of the machine, shoulders shaking as he is shaking his head, managing only to sputter a “What, want pictures of him in that too?” to match the others already given (and hopefully hidden safely away)....
....oh god, if Decker only knew the depths the kin will sink to in order to get a laugh from his brother....
and after several more hearty gaffaws... and yes – he’s past laughter to all out gaffaw! – he shakes his head... “He refused to shave his legs.... it just didn’t look right.... I’m far prettier.”
And yes – that’s said with a pose, and a toss and primp of corkscrew curls...
(james)
breath heaves
big badass Warrior struggling to get it back into his chest
at least long enough to oxygenate instead of whoosh! right back out into laughter
it takes while
quite a whilehands waved blindly in desperate negation of the newest idea
(safely, safely hidden)
several minutes passing as the game bleeps protest at being ignored
finally, James is able to reach down and pull the launching piston
sending the ball careening around the contained quadrant of space
unmanned vessel finally skittering enough to pass dormant paddles
machine finally playing it's GAME OVER! anthemit seems electronically inspiring enough to get the Ahroun to his feet
arm wrapped over belly in order to hold the growing stitch at bay
trying to glare at his bro..... but like a lot of looks tonight, it's just not workingthe Fostern finally giving up
shaking his head
jungle-vine ropes of hair dancing on his shoulders
those themselves still hitching in latent, breathless, laughter(tristan)
the blind desperate wave to try and get him to stop only inspires more laughter from the admittedly pretty kin, head falling to the top of the machine while he tries to remain upright on already weakened knees from previous activities and James’ wicked, wicked teasing... (oh the dreams he will have inspired tonight)....James manages to pull the piston.......
(...............ahem.)
and the game over anthem plays, signaling an attempt to stand again. He runs his hand over his face, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, while catching his breath between little escaping continued chuckles....
finally... clearing his throat enough to ask... “so... how about that dinner date?”
(james)
it's only a matter of minutes before the Ahroun is near collapsing again before Tristan's inspired outbursts
this time, he saves whatever dignity is left in the rain of GAME OVER! chorus delightfully paying
resting both hands flat on the scratched and graffiti'd surface of the machine
head hangs as a moment is taken to regain something resembling composure
(his shoulders still shudder occasionally in tiny fits of laughter)
breath HEAV.ing into lungs and shaking the hysterics offone. two. three. fou-..... alllriiiight.
dark eyes lifting before skull tilts
deep umber fixing on his kinsman with glare's mock ferocity
and Tristan can tell another growl is starting in his chest
with the way larynx bobs in swallow before the deep sound rolls tumbling forth
lip ever so slightly curling to indicate the behavior's resultant expression.....but James... knows... better than to start that again
curled snarl smoothing out into lopsided grin"Sure.... long' iz yeh promise a nevah ta mention this'gain." the sweeping gesture of hand about hip level is supposed to be angry, it's more dramatic flail "Spe'sh'lly af'er ya try'in kill me laughin' li'e tha'! Leas' yew c'n do...."
scowl.
glare.
snaaaarr......chuckle(tristan)
....oh.....he....wouldn’t.....whew he didn’t. though even the thought has him shifting slightly, minor adjustment of anticipations....swell as that curled snarl smoothes into a grin.
His eyes widen, and it is impossible to think he is –any- thing but innocent with the halo of curls and youthful purity in his expression.. “Why... brother dearest, I would nevah try to kill you with laughter....”
ooooooooh so slow the change to wickedly delighted grin... “I can think of a much, much better way to go....” complete with the wiggling of brows as he flinches away from whatever swipe that comment will breed. laughing at the scowling glare that are just so...damn...cute... when mixed with laughter still....
he holds up a hand, and then crosses his heart. “I solemnly swear not to mention the time spent here watching you” ahem. “pull the piston to keep your balls in play.”
(james)
at first, his response is brows lifting concertly towards frame of dreads
mockingly incredulous to the expression that would make Miss Scarlet shine with pride
impossibly, lifting twinned lines further as the wicked delight seeps through
dashing all Southern Bell-ly associations to the proverbial Wind. Gone.
just like that!and even though the kinsman tries to dart away
James holds his ground instead of instigating expected swipe
smirking as the solemn swear falls witness to the Space Cadet machine
nodding a slow acceptance of the promise
(acknowledging it won't last more than five minutes, tops, by that growing smirk)THEN he moves - Full Moon warrior moving like fucking lightning
stepping around the ancient arcade behemoth
wrapping a fist in the back of Tristan's collar
freehand closing steel trap around elbow
turning the taller man without the slightest bit of effort
bending him right on over the pinball machine like some episode of Voltage COPS
Corcorans kicking out ankles so that boots spread
wedging his weight to pin the curly-haired prettyboi on the metal and fiberglass frame
quick and hard enough to make the entire game scrrrrch about six inches closer to the inner gaming world
and he didn't before... but now the Ahroun lets out a rather threatening (suggestive) grooooooowl
deep sound reverberating right against the back of poor Tristan's neck
(oh, we know his weaknesses, indeeed)"'f I kep' my balls'in play...." purring words drift off on the ebb tide of deliberate. slow. tormenting. grinding roll of hips ".... yeh jus' may be thinkin' 've it bein' y'r way a go...."
and the Elder Gnawer doesn't have to dart away from impeding swipe
oh no - he lets go nice and easy
simply saaauntering away down the sidewalk
knowing, without a doubt, what the exact, resultant effect is going to be
and it sure as hell doesn't include Tristan swirling around to strike him"C'mon, slowpo'e!"
hollered back from a.... considerable..... distance down the way
enough to give him a running start once the kinsman recovers enough to hear the laughter(tristan)
The game goes sliding as startled sound is pushed from the kin’s lips as he’s turned and bent over it with a quickness that would stun even those who expect it – and as he only partially expected something and not anything like what exactly happens....well.
spread and splayed across the table, under the swell of that slow deep sound that vibrates across his neck, down his spine, lean body curling instantly into it with a tortured groan fingers flexing, clenching, flexing again as hips grind against his, slow, suggestive, torturous...
and that sloooooow backing away leaves him all but completely melted against the machine, melded with Space Cadet as few people ever could be, communing with the glowing lights and plexiglass top on an intimate level....
dingdingdingding
we have a WINNAH!before managing to make his arms work again (C'mon, slowpo'e!) to push himself upwards, head shaking as he peers through the fall of curls to look at sauntering – ready to sprint – form a ways away.... a slow peel from the machine, and he’s standing, adjusting, and then the laughter filters back to him and he’s off! running after his brother...
(james)
the more distance closed between
the more Tristan can hear the devilish laughter tumbling free
James dropping into a preperatory crouch upon approach
and eeeven though the prettyboi's intent on tackling
the Ahroun's got far more combat experience
waiting until the last springey second before stepping aside
arm hooking out to snake around Tris' shoulder and neck
pulling him under the Garou's own bodyweight
reversing the planned vengeance
as he clambers piggyback on his bro"Wha..... no commen'?"
sneered just behind the violinist's left ear
legs pinning arms to the kinsman's side
ankles crossing infront of belt buckle
vise-grip arm holding most of his own weight off Tristan's shoulders
freehand resting like a hairless, amputee spider amongst haphazard curls
using the leverage to steer his piggy towards a nearby diner(tristan)
....well! That didn’t exactly work out as planned, did it? and shoulders are shaking with laughter at the sneering comment, arms that are pinned squirming in attempt to get free, even as he’s steered by hairless amputee spider hiding in curls toward the diner.a pause, a jump. once, twice, in jostling fun before sauntering the way only a man with a full grown Garou on his back can saunter (why no sir, that’s not exactly a monkey on my back, though he does have this hairgrowth problem. Hm? why no – he only grows it when he’s 9 foot tall and pissed. Just don’t make him angry, you wouldn’t like him when he’s angry...) “Oh, I’ve a few comments for you, boyo...” Chuckled as he twists his curls away to look up and wink.
“Most appropriately, ‘thank you’... I do hope it was good for you, too...”
Of course, in the conglomeration of afterglowy type scents that cling to the recently showered Gnawer kin, it would take a discerning nose indeed to figure out if it was –really- that good, or if it will be –that- good later when it’s relived.... again...and again.... and again.... “although...”
Head tips, as he continues to walk toward the diner, pausing only when at the door that he can’t exactly open with arms still pinned, after all. “I always thought it was dinner –first-“ oh that’s practically permagrin there, ain’t it boy?
(james)
strong thighs unwrap from their hold on Tristan's arms
the Ahroun dropping down to the sidewalk with a little concussive bounce
reaching long arm around to grab the swinging door
ushering his brother inside with flourished wave"Thank.?" smirked as James plants a halting hand about mid-sternum, leans in and takes a rather discriminating sniff of the prettyboi's belly up to chest up to shoulder up to neck "F'r whut."
indicative breath huffed out in play on disgusted snort
raggedyman managing a breif sulking pout before conveniently distracted with picking up menus
pretending to scowl into the one held open on their journey to a back booth
(do you even notice, Jamey-boy, how uncomfortable the few pre-dawn patrons have become?)(tristan)
Arms now freed he stretches, slowly, before being ushered inside only to be stopped, and that grin starts again, brow arching at the discriminating sniff that results in........a pout....
and that does it, the pretty boy is chuckling again, shaking his head as he grabs his menu as well, making all those that shy away from menacing scowl look like complete and total pussies as he is seemingly unaffected. He hooks an arm around James neck though, and leans in, nuzzling past hanging vine-like dreads, lips just brushing the shell of ear with soft exhalation.... “had you done that before he came home and sucked me dry for 48 hours, I’da needed a napkin... a large napkin....” soft wicked chuckle as teeth grasp earlobe, only to let it slide free again... before admitting... “but give me a little more recovery time, boy...”
and he pulls away with a wink and sliding into the back booth to conveniently become quite interested in the menu before him...
(james)
the Fostern was raised a street-performer, after all
and damn does it show now as he pointedly looks away from Tristan's nuzzling
any reactions to the breathy admission (.....and. those. teeth.) sighed heavingly away
all six feet and one inch of dreadlocked Gnawer FLOPPING down into the booth
the utmost picture of sulking dejection
(because slumping shoulders cannot tense)simply not enough!
diligently skimming the menu he probably already knows by heart
fact proven when, after a few silent moments, a balled up napkin comes zinging across the table
bouncing harmlessly off the curly-haired kin and rolling on the faded linoleum surface
though the Ahroun, of course, hasn't even taken his eyes from the glorious food
should the target actually look up to checkdeep umber eyes don't lift until the waitress arrives
the Ahroun rattling off an order which ends on casual wave
(... yeh, all tha', 'n a coke....'n whatev'r he wan'.....)
then dropping back down to study the potential dessertsabsolutely. deadpan.
(tristan)
Absolutely. deadpan.but he knooooooooows he got to him. even if just a little, though he plays the utmost dejection pose to perfection. the napkin flies, and fingers reach out and snag it as it rolls away, still diligently studying his menu...
dark (shining) eyes skim over the menu, that, if he were honest, he’d admit he knows just as well as James, and the napkin makes return trip, bouncing off dreads as he smiles up at the waitress, the picture of pretty boy innocence.
He rattles off his own order, and she gives them both a look (it’s enough to feed four, at least, if they were normal customers, and all) finished off with “And a coke, thank you ma’am...” with all the charm he can muster. And that, as he two earns his money on the streets, is a considerable amount of charm.
Foot lifts to rest on James’s seat, next to sprawling thigh, nudging caress while the waitress walks away and he considers pie (James) ala mode for dessert afterward dinner...
(james)
still deadpaneven after the napkin bounces off springey dreads
even after the boot nestles so cuddlingly against his thigh
even after his hand slithers across the table to close fist about the napkin missile
fingers working it into a tighter ball as thumb circulates to spin the mini-sphere around"So, oth'r'n Dus'n....." note how he's carefully phrasing this as dark eyes dare lift from the menu's dissection and movement continues into the questioning arch of right brow "What else' you been up to?"
intricately constructed deadpan expression almost fratures, there
as the Elder's mind substitutes "IN TO" at the end of the phrase
far, far before he's able to stop the lopsided grin's meek crawl across his mouth
luckily the diner is practically empty at this hour of the morning
not even five minutes after fizzing cokes are set (with straws!) on the table
their orders begin to gather under the heating lamp(tristan)
That sets off another bout of chuckling laughter, as he sets the menu aside, and folds his hands oh so primly on the table and schooling face to mimic perfect deadpan.“Roxy. But only once, to welcome her home properly.”
insert wicked grin.... here before he stretches out his arms along the back of the booth, which, of course, slides that foot along James’ thigh again. He shakes his head, chuckling. “Honestly though, not a lot. Just doing the ‘mom’ thing, playing for my supper, the usual gigs keeping myself busy.”
(james)
"She more 'xperience'." snickered, napkin pinned by one index finger against the table, set up shot to be flicked right at Tristan's forehead "Thinkin' she been welcummin' you."un. re. petant.
salvation in the form of steaming plate's arrival
the tired waitress unloading her burdened tray infront of the two Gnawers
if they weren't regulars, she'd be surprised, or even irritated at the potentially wasted food
but then again, she's seen these two eat"Kem' still growin' you outta house'n home?"
brow lifted before James is tearing into his burger
(tristan)
He laughs and ducks the flying napkin, and wiggles his brows. “Something like that – whatever it was, we were both exhausted the next day and Kemp was all shaking his head and muttering about mom’s bad habits...”Oh! food! He flashes a grin and wink at the waitress, before he’s matching James bite for bite, tearing into the mound of food as if he hadn’t eaten in a week... or at least not any food in the past 48 hours....
The comment gets a snorted laughter, head shaking slightly. “That boy will be the death of me. He’s grown 2 inches taller in the last month, alone. Not to mention the jeans destroyed while learning to ride that bike. He took me for a ride on it the other day – never been so scared in my life!” mock terrified shivers...
(james)
in the time it takes Tristan to tell the first part of the story
James has inhaled the first burger and now plows halfway through the fries
(does he even chew, really?)
mopping up the last vestiges of ketchup when taking a moment to breath after swallowing
most likely to allow the rolling chuckle without chance of choking
red-slathered fry used to point at his brother"S'cause 'e gotta learn a ride it 'msel', first." dreads tumble over shoulders as his head shakes, not exactly sure how or why the Rotagar's lasted this long on the Donor-Cycle, much less kept his passengers alive "Moth'r's gotta smile down a that kid, tha's f'r sure." it's a fond kind of incredulity, for they all know no Garou learns without trial and error (and heartbreak) "He still rippin' through duds when 'e chan'e?"
(tristan)
Mumbling through mouthfuls, though as he’s the one answering the questions, he’s half a step or three behind James in the inhalation. Both bent over, plates, pausing only to add sips of soda, between bites that are shoved chewed and swallowed in rapid succession. “Thank god she does, someone has too”He pulls out something from behind the new dogtags, a wolf’s head pendant with a jeweltoned eye... “I show you my mother’s day gift yet?” grinned, fondly as he tucks it back under his t-shirt. Though he had to promise never. ever. too do anything that resulted in Kemp taking over ownership of it again.
Another nod, chuckling. “Yeah, someone’s gotta teach that boy to dedicate. I can teach him a lot of things, but rites and shit are beyond me...”
(james)
the new pendant is enough to get James to look up from his second plate
pausing long enough to reach over and hold it for inspection
brows lifting because whistling with his mouth full would be rude
not to mention messyit's only after napkin cleans his face and plates sit empty that the Ahroun speaks again
chuckling after a lubricating swallow that drains the last of the coke"Won'erin' how long it' take yewta as'...." that smile would be a knowing one "Wa'n't sure if he knew, 'n forgot a wear 'em, 'r nev'r got s'mone a do't f'r 'im."
(tristan)
“Well..” Pause, scoop fries into mouth, and last of burger follows, along with swallow of coke, chuckling. “Didn’t know you knew it, actually. and not like I’ve seen a lotta your mangy ass to ask.” nudge of foot still resting on James’ seat, grinning.Then he nods. “Cliona, that Irish girl, she did some for him, but he only had the one set, and they don’t fit anymore, and well. Yeah. He’s hopeless, really.” the affection is clear there, he really couldn’t love him more then if he gave birth to him. “If you could teach him, it’d save me a BUNCH of cash...... there are times I wish I could learn all that fancy stuff.”
There are times when he wishes he is more then he is... but though when it hits, it hits hard, thankfully, it doesn’t hit too often.
(james)
a slow nod, taking the straw and poking it into remaining ice
more for something to do with his hands than searching for dregs of soda
the smile's half playful, half contrite
he knows he's been scarce, lately
knee swinging out to wedge his thigh back against the prettyboi's boot"I c'n do it f'r'm." meaning: regardless of whether or not he's capable of actually teaching the Rotagar such a trick, sometimes it takes special, certain beings to pass equally certain knowledges down "Jus' gettim s'me clothe' wi' s'me room a grow 'n gimme a ca....."
words drift off as realization kicks in
he doesn't have his cell phone anymore
thus; correction:"... have'm call me." another sheepish grin indicating the pack's totemic bond and ease of long-distance communication without the luxuries of modern technology "'n we c'n do't tha' nigh'."
he doesn't comment on the last part
dark eyes flickering down towards the cup held in his hand
deeply understanding the turmoil that afflicts his kinsman
he's seen it in others, he's felt it himself - but there is little more they can do other than be what they were born destinedthe silence eased by their waitress arriving to take any further orders
the Fostern declines additional food, waving to Tristan's command of anything more or to go
with that arranged, she leaves their bill
James picking up the edge to peek at the total and estimate how much he's worth
since, after all, it's supposed to be dinner first(tristan)
He nods with a grin. “I’ll do that. I’ve been lax on visiting in with Kelsey as it is, so I’ll stop in this week and get him a supply. Then we’ll just have to remind him to wear those ones in particular when he’s off to get all fuzzy.”He shakes his head, leaning back to pat his belly as he smiles at the waitress. “It was perfect as usual, I couldn’t eat another bite.. at least for an hour of so. Thanks, Norma!” And hand reaches over... smack. the check hits the table before a complete peek can be taken, finger wagging. “Checking out your worth, are ya?”
chuckles, and digs out his wallet, the cash counted out with a generous tip added, and set aside on the table. “Though, perhaps I should let you check, see if we need to get desert, or a movie, or what else I’ll need to pay for before tripping you and beating you to the mattress....” wiggles brows, grinning.
(james)
lips peel back from teeth in beginnings of a snarl
(it is barely past the full, after all)
instant reaction to the correcting smack
hand jerking back and cradled as, he can't help it, folks, a little growl seeps through"Ow."
the pout, however, is a lost cause
tumbling into the deep, throaty tones of rolling chuckle
knee pitched to smack long muscle against Tristan's instep once more"Course I am, gotta see if y'r est'matin' my value 'nuff....."
(tristan)
uh oh – there go the growls again.
Followed by a pout and an ‘ow’?!? Oh that just gets him going again, shaking his head. He knows damn well it’d take a lot more then that to hurt the raggedy gnawer, but the act is just too adorable for words...He’s laughing and arches a brow, sliding the bill toward him so he can peek.... before jerking it back again before he has the chance. “Well, maybe I’ll buy you flowers on the way home – would that help?”
Foot falls to the floor, and he releases the bills with a wink. “Go on then, look and tell him how big a bouquet it will need to be....”
(james)
objection forces itself out in huffed snort
chuffing animalistic grint in leiu of formative words
(it's almost a growl... almost)
taking a moment to appear deeply offended at the offer"So now y'r puttin' a numb'r on how much I' worth a ya?" hand reaches out to slap over the bill and slide it back towards his brother "'n think flow'r's'll sooth th' woun's? Tris'n How cou' you?? Though I mean' s'methin' a you....."
before he has a chance to break the mortally wounded thesad
the Ahroun scoots out of the booth, now that Tristan's foot has conveniently moved
making a beeline storm right on out the front doors
(Norma's appreciative smile and wink hidden by the presentation of scarred back, of course)
not even sparing a backward glance to see how far the prettyboi has to catch up... probably cause he's only strolling down the sidewalk, anyway
(tristan)
He...... just.... blinks...and then is cracking up all over again. He knew it – the boy ALWAYS gets in the last word, always. and it’s with a sheepish shake of those pretty curls that he sighs dramatically, and stands, stretching his 6’3’ frame a moment, then heads to the door. “What do you think, Norma? A dozen? two? Red or white? Ah – you’re right. Jewelry it is...”
A wink, and he’s out the door, and a few jogging steps sees him caught up with James, hooking his arm through his brothers and laying his head against strong shoulder. “Forgive me, James... I should never have suggested that flowers without chocolates and diamonds would ever seduce you....”
Oh the innocence in the apology, the wide eyes, the long lashes fluttering becomingly, the schoolboy earnestness, eagerness that creeps along the edges of his voice, before he’s laughing again, and lifts his head.
Some days, it don’t get any better then this, strolling arm in arm with a man that you love, on the way home where bed awaits as the city comes to life around you. It’s always the little things that count, and Family is the biggest ‘little thing’ of them all.
Posted by james at June 03, 2004 12:00 AM