just_displaced | Open Post

[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.

[Sure, bring up the ONE THING he can't do. Just at this moment. He's normally super powerful, okay!

And yes, you have a very pouty looking fairy king on your hands now, sorry.]

Look, it has to be some kind of dark wizard or warlock, or something. I don't have every power, if we were in a situation that could be solved by a thunderstorm you'd be extremely impressed.

Oh. Uh huh.

[He's nodding encouragingly. He doesn't want Oliver to pout! He believes in his powers, really, it's just... he hasn't seen any.]

So you can do thunderstorms. What else can you do?

You know, master of the elements. All creatures of the fairy must bend to my will, dominion over the mortals, that sort of thing. You should see us all at the high festivals, hoards of elves and hobgoblins kneeling at my feet. Magnificent!

When we had the festivals, at any rate.

[He's gone from pouty to sighing dramatically. Oh, the good old days.]

You just don't get the turn out you used to.

I'd imagine that the elves and hobgoblins are kind of lacking, these days. At least, I've never met any. That I know of.

[Dramatic sighs are better than pouts. That's a step in the right direction.]

So... show me something magical?

That's rather forward, don't you think? We only just met.

[You're very lucky he found an opportunity to go back into flirting mode there. He might have stayed pouting for ages otherwise.

There's a small potted ivy plant in the corner of the room. Oliver settles back against the pillows again, and without any visible strain or effort, he starts making it grow.

It's slow and steady, and will probably take Ginsberg a little while to notice, at least until the creepers spill from the table onto the floor and start winding around the legs of the bed they're on.]

I didn't mean, uh... that wasn't...

[Flustered. Yep. He can't help it. It's just part of his nature. And for awhile there, it's true, he has no idea what's supposed to be happening... until he notices the ivy plant growing. And growing pretty impressively, too. He can't help but look somewhere between startled and impressed.]

Okay, that's pretty cool. You can control plants. That'd be a fun power to have.

Not just plants. Like I said, mastery of the elements. Weather and oceans and that sort of thing.

[He nods attentively. That is really cool.]

I wish I had powers like that. Actually, no, I don't, because I'd probably misuse them horribly. But in theory, it'd be neat.

I won't lie and say there hasn't been a little misuse in the past.

[A lot. A lot of misuse. He's not going to bring up how having arguments with his wife tends to result in pesky little natural disasters.

The ivy is creeping up the edge of the bed now, although its speed has slowed considerably. Oliver is bored with ivy, anyway, back to playing with Ginsberg's hair, that's much nicer. ]

[And he's getting comfortable with having his hair played with. Probably too comfortable. He should really be focused on this whole being paranoid thing, because that's what he does, and they're still trapped in a locked room, after all. It's just that he hasn't had sustained physical contact like this in... quite awhile? Ever? And it's nice.]

I'd ask about that misuse but I'm assuming it's probably a lot bigger than just a 'little' misuse because, you know, controlling the elements could make some pretty serious things go wrong. So I'll just stick to believing that you can grow plants and you're not potentially scary at all. Since I'm trapped in a room with you.

[He can feel how relaxed Ginsberg is becoming, and it's a nice feeling. Not only because of getting to feel smug as fuck for managing to calm him down, but because that sort of sleepy contentedness is coming off him in waves.]

I hardly seem very scary, do I?

Well... not really... but sometimes...

[He's just going to interrupt his little protest with a yawn.]

... sometimes really scary people are the ones who don't seem scary at all. To lure you into a false sense of security. With their hair stroking. And beards.

If I am then it's working wonderfully.

[Really, be cuter. Honestly, it's a little disgusting.]

If you're planning on killing me, I'd just ask that you do it quickly. I've never been particularly interested in the whole long, drawn out, dramatic death thing.

I have little to no interest in killing you right now.

[Not when he's all warm and affectionate and full of adorable neurosis, he's far too entertaining. And then he'd be trapped in a room by himself with a terrible sex book.

His hand goes back to tracing little circles on Ginsberg's arm, humming a little under his breath as he does.]

That's reassuring. I think.

[Honestly, he's banking on the fact that Oliver really doesn't want to be alone with the stupid book, because he seems like the kind of guy who needs someone to talk to. Or to trace circles on the arm of, as the case may be.]

... you really don't think this is weird, do you?

[He means the whole touching thing.]

What, not being able to open the door? Unusual, but like I said, not the first time this has happened.

No, the uh...

[Well, just make him say it out loud, why don't you?! Then again, he's never really had a problem saying things out loud.]

The cuddling. Touching. Thing.

It's not weird, though. It's very nice.

You're not enjoying it?

No, I'm definitely enjoying it. I just don't... I mean, usually, at least in my experience, people don't really like to do this kind of thing all that much. Especially guys.

[Especially fabulously bearded guys, much to his endless chagrin.]

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