Lucien can practically hear the eyerolling in how Viktor's head moves. He drops his shoulder to force Lucien to straighten up. So he can give Lucien the exasperated look.]
Not without showering first. You smell like Stillwater Hold.
[He reaches up, twining one finger around and around the strand of fringe hanging in the front. He pulls, not painfully, but not gently, before releasing it so it makes a lil curl.]
What do you want to eat? I'll bring you something.
[ FINE, he straightens up, scrunching up his nose when he gets the one-two punch of being accused of smelling and getting his hair sproinged. he gets the point at least, he feels pretty gross. there were a lot of corpses in the cyoa. ]
Anything solid. If I see any more porridge-like substances today, I'm going to start another riot. Apart from that, I don't care - I'm probably not going to eat it.
[ he will actually pull away at that, going to collect his coat and starting to yank it on - there's a lot of holes in the back of it, but it'll do for a walk to the showers and back. ]
When Lucien turns away for the coat, he reaches up to idly touch his lips for a thoughtful second. Then his face sort of squishes up when he sees the holes in the back of the coat. Jesus. He's very clearly staring at Lucien's back until his eyes flick up.]
[ he either doesn't seem to notice the staring, or isn't quite sure what to do with it when it happens - heading for the door, pausing before he exits to lean on one of the tables, rapping his knuckles against it idly and searching viktor's face for ... something or other. it's a bit inscrutable. ]
... Thanks. [ he doesn't specify for what out loud, but it's really making him feel normal. It's been a long time since anyone has bothered to treat him this way, or he's allowed himself to be treated like that. mortal. fallible. vulnerable, even. it isn't the worst feeling in the world, all things considered. cree brushing the blood from his face as she admonished him for recklessness, or brevyn teasing him for complaining about a silly injury. scenes from another lifetime. ] I'll see you in a few.
[He stands there stupidly, his hand slowly lowering from his face, unsure, feeling oddly appraised. For a moment in time, he looks kind of boyish, not like a dying thirty year old man.
Receiving the thanks surprises him which shows a little on his face, but it fades into a small, brief smile. He nods before turning back to the medbay.
Of course, he tidied up, but also gets his crutch. He could check on a few others... but isn't sure how long it'd take, and he thinks Lucien would be pathetically clawing at their door. Anyway, food.
For a dude with a "bad" leg, he sure is fast. Some extra clothes have been left in the bathroom by the sink; comfortable loose pants capped at the ankles and a shirt. It has a v-neck...... Someone's eye has conjured the exact right size.
[ he'll have time to check on a few others, considering lucien definitely gets stopped to be questioned on the way there and back. everyone has so many questions about his fashion choices.
he takes his time in the shower, mostly to make sure he isn't in any way green anymore. hell world. if viktor is taking this coat, there's a few things jangling around the pockets - an American green card, and a handheld joy buzzer that gives a little electric shock. Prizes! hooray. Also a half-used pack of cigarettes and matches.
he'll show up at the door after a bit, in the comfortable new clothes - knocking at the door with the back of his knuckles. his hair is restored to its typical purple and he looks much more alive, because a shower is a miracle drug.humanity restored. ]
[NOT THESE PRIZES. Viktor is too curious not to check, but he will put them back because unlike what Scien says, he is NOT a thief!! He should throw the cigarettes and matches out, but he won't.
Viktor's desk has a stupid grocery store bouquet, a book titled D*rk L*ver, a plate with two panini-style salami and brie sandwiches (one of which has been consumed to a quarter and then likely abandoned for another hyperfocus), and then the hyperfocus in question: Lucien's coat laid out with two of the cuts patched and a surgical needle midway through another, paused for now. Forces you to somehow retcon any of your other PCs by fixing the coat (no it's fine).]
[ he is going to need those cigarettes as a surprise for later.
this is all very sweet and he isn't quite sure what to do with that - there's some real acts of service happening in his direction and that is new and makes his chest do something weird and unsettling - so he's diverting into being a nosy busybody instead. poking one of the flowers, thumbing through the Dork Lover book and holding up one of the skirts hanging around to his waist to see if he could pull it off.
tilting his head at the coat, raising an eyebrow.]
Viktor doesn't seem to mind the nosy rummaging. He is also nosy clearly. He just lets Lucien explore like a new cat introduced to a house, brows rising curiously when the skirt comes up.
Then he sort of shrugs dismissively with his hand and his face.] I had time to kill, and I needed... something to do with my hands. [Antsy energy.] I'm not a tailor, but... I've fixed a few holes in my life. [He's an Undercity rat, they always had holes in their clothes.
For a guy with a messy brain, the outside is relatively tidy actually, waow.]
The other sandwich is yours. Undercity special. The bread isn't moldy at least, and it's warm.
My sister was always the one who did that. Used to fix the costumes.
[ he will ........ take the sandwich. despite threatening to not eat, he is kind of staving actually so he'll take it over to sit on the edge of the bed and settle in to start. sorry about getting crumbs in the sheets, he is the worst. ]
[He moves over to sit at his desk as Lucien gets settled. The crumbs will bother him......later. For now, he goes back to pulling the needle through the rest of the coat.]
Sounds like your sister probably kept you in line.
[He glances over his shoulder briefly and snorts at the hell yeah. WHY, it's so stupid.]
[He seems amused, but continues pushing the needle in and then pulling it through. Lucien, always "bossy," noted.]
Oh, no surprise there, Mr. I Want to Shoot the Ship's Giant Laser Gun; last name, I Have Nine Ancient Arcane Mages Inside Me.
[There is strangely no judgement in the tone of his teasing; he doesn't even look up. It really sounds like he just accepts these wild atrocities and finds them endearing. More seriously and curiously:]
[ yeah, lucien always bossy. anyway he is straight up laughing at this assessment, because, true? ]
Don't forget my middle name, Lived Died Lived Died Again Lived. My parents weren't succinct people, were they ... ?
[ he WILL fire that fucking giant laser gun before this is over. ]
Oh all sorts of things. Roam the countryside, put on little plays for the townsfolk for coppers and occasionally a few thrown rocks, incur burdensome gambling debts, play music, take loans from the local bloodthirsty gangs, drink to oblivion, dance. Wide variety.
[DON'T JUST AGREE. The hell. DON'T TOUCH THE LASER, HE SWEARS TO GOD.]
Oh.
[He pretends like hearing all of this makes him more judgy of Lucien by wrinkling his nose.]
You would fit right in inside Zaun then. No countryside, though, unfortunately. It's mostly underground. Piltover's bottom end. [Hmmm. He pauses to turn in the seat, leaning an arm on the back.] Do you sing?
[ he's eaten like half the sandwich and considers that good enough, getting up to put the uneaten half back on the plate. he takes a long time considering the question, actually. ]
[He sort of shrugs one shoulder timidly, a light dismissal. HE WASN'T DOING NOTHIN........ He glances at the sandwich, but doesn't admonish Lucien. HE HAS HIS OWN HALF-EATEN SANDWICH THERE.
[Hmmm. He just watches Lucien's face while Lucien thinks, patient. The barest hints of a smile curl the corner of his lips.]
You're supposed to tell me, "I liked the traveling," or "I liked playing in the summer when it was warm," not that. [His tone is that he's teasing, but it's a cover for understanding what Lucien really means.] It's interesting. To me, I mean. I can't... do any of that really. Painting, singing, playing an instrument. Writing stories. Acting.
[ this is actually very sweet, and it's doing the weird thing to his chest again where he's feeling emotion (like a child, or intelligent dog), but he's given in enough to it today for it to be a little easier now. he doesn't quite know how to explain that all of that is both a raw, rotting reminder of a past best left buried, and something he revels in all the time. writing stories. viktor seems to appreciate "lucien" enough, the role he plays in this skin until his part is served and he's told to leave the stage. cease pretending to be this kind of creature.
letting his hand slide under viktor's elbow, gently trying to pull him up out of the desk chair. ]
How about this. Sometime soon you get me a little drunk, and I'll do my best rendition of The Plank King's Wife with every filthy Marquesian word left in.
If you don't know Marquesian, it's actually a charming little love song. She distracts all those bloodthirsty pirates for him and that's before the Concord privateers get involved ...
[ he was told to rest so he's doing as instructed, heading back over to the bed but dragging viktor along with him. ]
[THIS ISN'T WHAT HE MEANT!!!! He was supposed to have the time to fix the stupid coat!]
Distracts...?
[Oh. He may have been stupid about the initial advances, but once they are in place, he is not entirely stupid anymore. A moment of panic spikes through him when he realizes he's being dragged toward the bed. He has to decide if he thinks Lucien is going to sleep with him or sleep with him.
He isn't worried about... the implications, the act. He's worried about himself. He's worried about his body. Even covered in eyes hidden by tattoos, even covered in scars, even as a Tiefling with red eyes, horns, and a tail, he feels like Lucien is leagues better in the attractive department.
Lucien's body isn't wasted by something terminal (he looks healthier this week than he has so far actually, but he can't see it), isn't all being held together by leather and screws, by a Eldritch purple leg twisted with the metal of a leg brace it had assimilated.]
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Lucien can practically hear the eyerolling in how Viktor's head moves. He drops his shoulder to force Lucien to straighten up. So he can give Lucien the exasperated look.]
Not without showering first. You smell like Stillwater Hold.
[He reaches up, twining one finger around and around the strand of fringe hanging in the front. He pulls, not painfully, but not gently, before releasing it so it makes a lil curl.]
What do you want to eat? I'll bring you something.
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Anything solid. If I see any more porridge-like substances today, I'm going to start another riot. Apart from that, I don't care - I'm probably not going to eat it.
[ he will actually pull away at that, going to collect his coat and starting to yank it on - there's a lot of holes in the back of it, but it'll do for a walk to the showers and back. ]
Room 13, right?
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[Heh heh.
When Lucien turns away for the coat, he reaches up to idly touch his lips for a thoughtful second. Then his face sort of squishes up when he sees the holes in the back of the coat. Jesus. He's very clearly staring at Lucien's back until his eyes flick up.]
Lucky number thirteen. That's us.
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[ he either doesn't seem to notice the staring, or isn't quite sure what to do with it when it happens - heading for the door, pausing before he exits to lean on one of the tables, rapping his knuckles against it idly and searching viktor's face for ... something or other. it's a bit inscrutable. ]
... Thanks. [ he doesn't specify for what out loud, but it's really making him feel normal. It's been a long time since anyone has bothered to treat him this way, or he's allowed himself to be treated like that. mortal. fallible. vulnerable, even. it isn't the worst feeling in the world, all things considered. cree brushing the blood from his face as she admonished him for recklessness, or brevyn teasing him for complaining about a silly injury. scenes from another lifetime. ] I'll see you in a few.
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Receiving the thanks surprises him which shows a little on his face, but it fades into a small, brief smile. He nods before turning back to the medbay.
Of course, he tidied up, but also gets his crutch. He could check on a few others... but isn't sure how long it'd take, and he thinks Lucien would be pathetically clawing at their door. Anyway, food.
For a dude with a "bad" leg, he sure is fast. Some extra clothes have been left in the bathroom by the sink; comfortable loose pants capped at the ankles and a shirt. It has a v-neck...... Someone's eye has conjured the exact right size.
Lucien's coat has been stolen. It's fine.]
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he takes his time in the shower, mostly to make sure he isn't in any way green anymore. hell world. if viktor is taking this coat, there's a few things jangling around the pockets - an American green card, and a handheld joy buzzer that gives a little electric shock. Prizes! hooray. Also a half-used pack of cigarettes and matches.
he'll show up at the door after a bit, in the comfortable new clothes - knocking at the door with the back of his knuckles. his hair is restored to its typical purple and he looks much more alive, because a shower is a miracle drug.humanity restored. ]
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After a few moments, the door opens to the same ol' Viktor who lets Lucien in. The whole room smells like flowers and... cheese? Warm cheese and bread. The room is filled with clothes, too, but it doesn't look like these belong to Viktor. These are definitely all Throné's; most are in the closet, both hers and his, but some have been left on the bed, on the desks.
Viktor's desk has a stupid grocery store bouquet, a book titled D*rk L*ver, a plate with two panini-style salami and brie sandwiches (one of which has been consumed to a quarter and then likely abandoned for another hyperfocus), and then the hyperfocus in question: Lucien's coat laid out with two of the cuts patched and a surgical needle midway through another, paused for now. Forces you to somehow retcon any of your other PCs by fixing the coat (no it's fine).]
Feel better?
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[ he is going to need those cigarettes as a surprise for later.
this is all very sweet and he isn't quite sure what to do with that - there's some real acts of service happening in his direction and that is new and makes his chest do something weird and unsettling - so he's diverting into being a nosy busybody instead. poking one of the flowers, thumbing through the Dork Lover book and holding up one of the skirts hanging around to his waist to see if he could pull it off.
tilting his head at the coat, raising an eyebrow.]
You're fixing it.
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Viktor doesn't seem to mind the nosy rummaging. He is also nosy clearly. He just lets Lucien explore like a new cat introduced to a house, brows rising curiously when the skirt comes up.
Then he sort of shrugs dismissively with his hand and his face.] I had time to kill, and I needed... something to do with my hands. [Antsy energy.] I'm not a tailor, but... I've fixed a few holes in my life. [He's an Undercity rat, they always had holes in their clothes.
For a guy with a messy brain, the outside is relatively tidy actually, waow.]
The other sandwich is yours. Undercity special. The bread isn't moldy at least, and it's warm.
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[ he will ........ take the sandwich. despite threatening to not eat, he is kind of staving actually so he'll take it over to sit on the edge of the bed and settle in to start. sorry about getting crumbs in the sheets, he is the worst. ]
Hell yeah.
[ oh yeah he is still cursed. ]
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Sounds like your sister probably kept you in line.
[He glances over his shoulder briefly and snorts at the hell yeah. WHY, it's so stupid.]
Were you... performers?
["Costumes"...]
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Dreda? Please. She was the baby. Always wandering off head in the clouds. I was the one keeping the line.
[ mouthful of sandwich. ]
Yeah. Mummers. Little caravan and everything. [ gesturing to himself. ] I always had the villain role. Good at the speeches.
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Oh, no surprise there, Mr. I Want to Shoot the Ship's Giant Laser Gun; last name, I Have Nine Ancient Arcane Mages Inside Me.
[There is strangely no judgement in the tone of his teasing; he doesn't even look up. It really sounds like he just accepts these wild atrocities and finds them endearing. More seriously and curiously:]
What do Mummers do exactly?
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Don't forget my middle name, Lived Died Lived Died Again Lived. My parents weren't succinct people, were they ... ?
[ he WILL fire that fucking giant laser gun before this is over. ]
Oh all sorts of things. Roam the countryside, put on little plays for the townsfolk for coppers and occasionally a few thrown rocks, incur burdensome gambling debts, play music, take loans from the local bloodthirsty gangs, drink to oblivion, dance. Wide variety.
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Oh.
[He pretends like hearing all of this makes him more judgy of Lucien by wrinkling his nose.]
You would fit right in inside Zaun then. No countryside, though, unfortunately. It's mostly underground. Piltover's bottom end. [Hmmm. He pauses to turn in the seat, leaning an arm on the back.] Do you sing?
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I was 10, I didn't make the financial decisions.
[ fixing him with a look. ]
Nope. Never could hold a tune.
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Oh. That's okay.
[He turns back to the coat with the needle in hand so he can continue.]
Did you like it at all? Being a Mummer.
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Did you want me to sing?
[ he's eaten like half the sandwich and considers that good enough, getting up to put the uneaten half back on the plate. he takes a long time considering the question, actually. ]
I didn't hate all of it.
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Glancing up at Lucien.]
What parts did you like?
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... I think I liked imagining what it could have been the best. As it should be, and not what it actually was.
[ elbowing him on the shoulder lightly. ]
I can sing a little, and I know the mandolin. Happy?
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You're supposed to tell me, "I liked the traveling," or "I liked playing in the summer when it was warm," not that. [His tone is that he's teasing, but it's a cover for understanding what Lucien really means.] It's interesting. To me, I mean. I can't... do any of that really. Painting, singing, playing an instrument. Writing stories. Acting.
[He is just a little engineer man.]
I want to hear you sing.
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letting his hand slide under viktor's elbow, gently trying to pull him up out of the desk chair. ]
How about this. Sometime soon you get me a little drunk, and I'll do my best rendition of The Plank King's Wife with every filthy Marquesian word left in.
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His brows rise in question, but then he pretends to be embarrassed about such a scandalous thing.]
Oh, I think I might be a little too young to hear that song actually...
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[ he was told to rest so he's doing as instructed, heading back over to the bed but dragging viktor along with him. ]
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Distracts...?
[Oh. He may have been stupid about the initial advances, but once they are in place, he is not entirely stupid anymore. A moment of panic spikes through him when he realizes he's being dragged toward the bed. He has to decide if he thinks Lucien is going to sleep with him or sleep with him.
He isn't worried about... the implications, the act. He's worried about himself. He's worried about his body. Even covered in eyes hidden by tattoos, even covered in scars, even as a Tiefling with red eyes, horns, and a tail, he feels like Lucien is leagues better in the attractive department.
Lucien's body isn't wasted by something terminal (he looks healthier this week than he has so far actually, but he can't see it), isn't all being held together by leather and screws, by a Eldritch purple leg twisted with the metal of a leg brace it had assimilated.]
Are you trying to get me to tuck you in?
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