just_displaced | Open Post

Pirate related?

[Well, that's kind of intriguing, at least. And yeah, he's not really protesting the arm around his shoulder. And now he can't help but looking at the page that Oliver's currently reading. Which quickly leads to him making a disgusted face. Disgusted and flustered, what an odd combination.]

That's... How can you stand to actually be reading more than a page of this? Doesn't it make you deeply and utterly uncomfortable?

I was on this ship, you see. It used to takes ages to get places before proper boat engines, let me tell you. Planes are just making it ridiculous.

[Bad at staying on topic? Yep, pretty much most of the time. Anyway, Ginsberg is reading too now, which means he should turn it out a little bit more on his direction.]

Why would it make me uncomfortable? It's just a book.

That's right, I keep forgetting you're really, really old. Is that offensive? I mean, to call you really old? You don't look really old.

[He's just going to be shaking his head.]

Because it's so... I mean, I'm all for freedom of speech. I definitely think people should be able to write what they want. It's just... do people actually do this stuff?

Can't really be offensive if it's true, can it?

[Excuse him moving his arm to scratch his beard a little. Don't worry, he'll put it right back afterwards.]

Oh, loads of people. But it's not really like it's written here at all. A lot more discussion and less dancing inner goddesses.

Why, the idea of the handcuffs putting you off?

See, I always say that, but then people take offense to me telling the truth a lot, so I guess it can be offensive if it's true.

[Seriously, this is consistently a problem for him. People are so touchy.]

No, the idea of handcuffs is fine. I mean, theoretically. It's just the whole, uh... yeah. The dancing inner goddesses thing. And the really stilted dialogue.

It's really pretty far from erotic, isn't it?

[Yes, he's laughing again, deal with it. He sends another cheeky grin in Ginsberg's direction.

A few pages later, and he's lost interest in the book, so he chucks it one-handed at the door. It only gives a mildly satisfying thump.]

I'm offended by your reading suggestions!

[Nope, still no reaction from outside the room.]

I'd be interested to find out later if anyone heard that.

Yep. I can think of about a hundred things off the top of my head that're more erotic, and I wouldn't know erotic if it punched me in the face. Which, incidentally, isn't erotic.

[He stares at the door for a minute, just willing it to open somehow.]

So now what? Our reading material is subpar, and we're locked in here. And there's nothing to eat, and no television. We might actually go crazy.

We could always play charades.

[Although that would involve moving, which Oliver doesn't seem overly keen on doing right now. In fact, lying back to settle himself a little more comfortably on the pillows behind him seems far more preferable.]

You'd win. I'm really bad at charades. Laughably bad.

[And it's kind of comfy here. Even if they are locked in for the foreseeable future. And hey, at least he doesn't have to feel super awkward about being almost-kinda snuggled up with this guy, because he seems to be enjoying it just fine.]

That sounds like an excellent reason to do it, then. Pencil me in for a little later.

[In the mean time, a nap seems like the best use of your time when you're locked in a room with a bed, another warm body, and no reading material. Well, the second best use. But Oberon really does like a good cuddle now and then, and this kid just flusters so easily that's it's hard not to want to keep doing things to provoke him. He'll just casually distract with another beard scratch as he re-adjusts his arm to bring him closer.]

Might as well try to sleep if you can. By the time we wake up, the door might be open. Or maybe there won't be a wall, we really don't know how any of this works.

I don't think I can sleep like this. I mean, I'm one of those people that lies in bed awake for hours thinking about all the terrible things that're probably going to happen in the morning. And that's when I'm in my own room. When I'm locked in a room with someone else, it's even worse. At least, I imagine it is. I've never been locked in a room with someone else before.

[Oh, okay, he appears to be even closer now. This is very cuddly. A nice kind of cuddly. He could get used to this. Even if he's definitely extremely flustered now, and trying his damnedest to hide it.]

Has anyone ever told you to take up yoga? Meditation? It might do wonders.

[He can feel how tensely he's holding himself, the way the muscles in his arms and back are clenched up. He lets his thumb trace a few calming circles along his upper arm, barely a feather touch. Really, he's being so well-behaved, his restraint is phenomenal.]

Not specifically. I mean, I guess some people have told me to take up meditation before. But they're usually also the people who tell me to take up drugs, and I think that's a really bad idea. And I've given it a try, even! Drugs, I mean. And it was a bad idea.

[He'd be flustered by this -- and, to be fair, he is -- but the overwhelming desire for human (or... immortal king of the fairies?) contact kind of trumps the whole being flustered thing. Because he's always liked having people touch him, and it doesn't happen enough; you just can't go around hugging or snuggling with people at work, after all.]

[It's a sad world, Oliver thinks, if you cant just go around cuddling everyone. It's one of his top favourite pass-times.]

Now that is something I would have liked to see.

[He laughs, which is probably going to bounce Ginsberg a little now that they're so close. Always one of the charms of it, though, feeling a laugh as well as hearing it.]

What, me getting high? It was bad. It was really bad. It was...

[He always gets so animated when he talks, so he's probably inadvertently jostling Oliver as he gestures to try to explain just how bad it was.]

You know how some people say that they get really creative when they smoke pot? Yeah, I get the opposite. I go crazy. I get paranoid, I start seeing things, hearing things, thinking people're out to get me... which is actually pretty similar to the way I feel most of the time, but intensified. And also slightly harder to tell that it's not real.

What, just on weed? I'd love to see what mushrooms would do.

[Yes, he is finding your horrible drug stories hilarious, sorry. He'll just brush a little of Ginsberg's hair off his forehead to make up for it.]

It's always fascinating how people react.

This one time at work, a bunch of people did... well, I don't even know what it was. Something that got them all hyped up, anyway. Speed, maybe. I was probably the only one in the office who didn't do it. And I was still the guy that ended up throwing an X-Acto knife into someone's arm. Don't ask.

[Oh no, affectionate touch. He's kind of melting into it.]

So all of that is to say, mushrooms should probably be avoided. And acid should really be avoided. I think it'd actually kill me.

You spend a lot of time thinking about what'll kill you, don't you?

[That was well enough received that Oliver's just going to move straight to combing his fingers through his hair, just gently for now.]

It's a little counter productive, don't you think?

[To be fair, it's nice hair to comb one's fingers through. Mostly because it ends up as a big curly mess pretty quickly after being touched.]

I guess so? I mean, I don't consciously think I think about what'll kill me a lot, but I probably do. Counterproductive how? Because I'm going to die sooner or later and there's nothing I can do about it so I should probably just stop worrying and live in the now, man.

[He's definitely imitating someone else's voice as he says that last part.]

[It really is lovely hair. Very fluffy. He's going to have free reign with it now, thank you.]

Well I'm not going to say that now.

It is a little true, though.

[His hair always sort of treads that line of just a liiiittle too long to be really appropriate at work, but since he'd argue ceaselessly if someone told him to cut it off, they all just leave him alone about it.]

I know. But you know how you can know something is true and still have a hard time believing it? It's like that. Like I know we're stuck in this room, but I'm having a hard time believing it, or figuring out how it works.

I pretty much believe everything, so it doesn't come up too often.

[He's taking a moment to stroke his beard for that. What, it's his thinking face. If you had a beard you'd want to do that, too.]

I guess I can see the perspective. Still doesn't make any sense, though.

[It's true. Sometimes he strokes his mustache when he's thinking -- it can only be more glorious with a beard.]

Well, a lot of things I think don't make a whole lot of sense. It also doesn't make a whole lot of sense that you're immortal, or have godlike powers or whatever you have, but I've kind of accepted that. Maybe.

Were you looking for a demonstration?

I mean, your godlike powers can't get us out of here, and that's kind of the demonstration I'd be looking for. Sure, I bet you can do other things. And I'm sure they're really cool.

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