ArchivedLogs:I Like It

I Like It
Dramatis Personae Doug, Rictor
In Absentia	2015-06-23 '
Location <NYC> Central Park North
Central Park North is slightly quieter than its southern counterpart, being further uptown and slightly out of the bustle of the City - insofar as one can escape the bustle of the City even here, in the acres of green and blue that make up Central Park. The reservoir is in the northern half, providing miles of jogging and biking trails along the clear water, as well as benches for people to sit and rest. There are few better ways to settle a meal than by taking an evening stroll through one of the world's most noted and celebrated green spaces. As the sun begins to dip tonight, Central Park takes on an otherworldly glow, illuminated by rusty light filtered through steel, concrete, and fresh summer greenery. Even though he knows it will soon be dark and time to go, Rictor savors the moment with a deep breath and a contented smile. Turning to the man next to him, Rictor slows his pace before sliding into conversation. "Happy birthday again. I still can't believe you're so young. Really like a child," he says with wink. It's still a bit warm, as the light begins to fade, but it's a nice night for a stroll. Even Doug can admit that. He walks as close to Rictor as is proper for a second date, watching the older man as they move through the park. "Thanks," he says in response to the birthday wishes. "And I'm not /that/ young. I'm only like -- what? Six years younger than you? Seven?" He snaps his fingers playfully. "That's chump change. I don't think anyone's going to accuse you of robbing any cradles." His gait shifts, allowing him to bump his shoulder against Rictor. "Thank /you/ for dinner. I've never eaten there before." Rictor offers a friendly laugh and lets the topic of age fade along with a little daylight, leaning into the shoulder bump happily. "And I had no idea how well you understand Italian. How do you do that, anyway?" He squints his eyes as he exaggerates his scrutiny of Doug. "You consistently surprise me, Mr. Ramsey." He doesn't say in what way, yet his demeanor implies nothing but good feelings. "I cheat," Doug says, offering a mischevious smile. "Italian is one of those languages I hear every day, so it's always stuck in there." He waggles his fingers at his temple. Then a thought strikes him, and he wrinkles his nose. "That's kind of simplistic, as far as explanations go," he says apologetically. "But since you teach at Xavier's, I guess there's no reason for me to pretend." He /does/ pause and look around to gauge the proximity of other parkgoers before he continues. "I'm a mutant. I can understand any language," Which seems a heavy revelation, regardless of Julio's credentials, so Doug wags a finger at the older man teasingly. "So don't try cursing me out in Spanish, 'cause it won't work." Rictor blinks and looks around as well, perhaps also to note the proximity of those in the park or simply to mimic Doug's cautionary movements. Either way, there's that look of genuine surprise on his face that he just mentioned. When he speaks up, however, it's in response to what Doug said last. "{Unless, of course, I want you to know how I'm cursing you,}" he tells the other man in Spanish. "{Some of that language can be kind of sexy, don't you think?}" Doug's grin at that is a slow tip of his mouth, and he gives Julio a smoky look. "Depends on who's saying it," he murmurs, and leans in a bit. "There's a difference between being chewed out and what's offered in the throes of..." That seems a bit far, so the blonde opts for a simpler, more confusing ending. "Throes." Thank goodness the light is dim. Maybe Rictor won't notice the reddening of his ears that makes that smoky look just...awkward. Rictor echoes the lean and offers a deep chuckle at the response. "Throes, indeed," he says, either ignoring the reddening ears or not noticing them at all. He reaches around Doug to place his fingertips at the small of the man's back, keeping them there as they continue down the path. "{Thank you for telling me,}" he continues in Spanish. "{Most people would be more reluctant, even when speaking to a teacher at a school for mutants. It's admirable.}" There's a small intake of air on Doug's part when Rictor's fingers find his back, and he relaxes into them with a small sigh. "{I have friends who teach there,}" he responds fluidly. "{And they're good guys. I figure Professor Xavier wouldn't hire anyone who wasn't. And it was bugging me, a little. You're a really great guy.}" He leans into Rictor's side, wrinkling his nose. "{It felt like a bit like a lie.}" Apparently pleased with the response to his touch, Rictor decides to keep his hand right where it is, on the border of friendly and intimate. "From what I've seen so far, and it's arguably not much, they are good people. I think once the term starts I'll get to know them better." They come to a turn and round it at the same time as an oncoming runner, allowing Rictor to more firmly press his hand against Doug as he guides them both out of the way. "I think you're a great guy, too. Do you want to know what I can do?" Doug is easily guided out of harm's way, enjoying the feel of Rictor's hand on his back. At the question, though, he chuckles. "Definitely. But I think there are laws about that kind of behavior in public." At that, Rictor laughs and lifts his free hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose. "You're funny," he says, dropping the hand to once again let it swing by his side. "But of course that's not what I meant," he winks and continues in a languid manner. "I can sense and feel many of the things around us now," he explains, pointing to a tree not far away. "That one, for example, has strong roots," he says, closing his eyes for just a moment. "And a bunch of little ants living at its base with a healthy queen. My gift connects me with the earth in a fascinating way, just like yours does with language." Doug considers that, looking at the tree and back at Rictor thoughtfully. "I'm not exactly certain what you mean," he says. "Do you mean that you sense things about the earth? Can you move it as well? A friend of mine knows a guy who can do that." He furrows his brow. "Or is it something more esoteric?" "A little of all of that," Rictor replies, almost in question form. "I know that if I try very hard I can really feel the ecosystem around me, for bad or good. I can't control most of it, but I can control seismic energy. That was the first thing I knew that I could do, unfortunately. The rest came on slowly and I might not have even noticed it if I wasn't clued into it at Xavier's. As to how it feels, that's the esoteric part. I can't really describe it. Maybe if I had as many words as you." "Seismic energy?" Doug echoes, considering that. The tree gets another look, as does Rictor. "You can move the tectonic plates?" Which clearly impresses the blonde, because he's looking extra hard at the older man. "That sounds equal parts awesome and terrifying," he says, lifting his eyebrows. "But you don't have to describe it to me," he says, reaching up to rest his hand on Rictor's arm. "I mean, you can try if you want, but I understand. I can't explain parts of my ability, either. Like how things look or sound in my head." Rictor lets the rest of Doug's questions lay unanswered, giving only a smile to the other man's last words. "That's because they're your own, and that's part of what makes them so damn perfect." As he says this, his eyes are locked with Doug's and he lifts a hand connect with the one Doug has placed on his arms. He grips it and steps forward. "Sorry for being kind of corny. It's the Mesoamerican in me." Doug seems a bit flummoxed, even by corny statements, and his mouth works silently for a moment. "It's okay," he manages finally, the words coming out in a hoarse croak. "On you, it works." He, too, can't look away from Rictor, his hand tightening just a bit on his arm. "I like it." Rictor merely nods in response to Doug; nods and smiles. When he speaks, he does so softly as they're awfully close to one another at this point. "Good. I like that you like it." The light has shifted now to darker shades and the park's inhabitants are thinning out, making it a pretty quiet and (Rictor thinks, at least) romantic place. "And I hope you like this, too." He leans in, closes his eyes, and presses his lips soft against Doug's. Doug /does/ like it, from the soft surprised noise he makes when the kiss happens and the way he leans into it after a moment, his eyes sliding closed. His free hand slides around Rictor's waist, his own fingers seeking the small of his back to hold himself in place. When the kiss eventually (and reluctantly, on Doug's part, at least) breaks, his eyes remain half-closed as he gaze at Rictor. "That was..." For a mutant whose abilities are about words, Doug doesn't seem overly focused on them at the moment. "Wow. That was definitely wow." When the kiss breaks, Rictor is also left momentarily speechless. He licks his lips and smiles as he slowly breaks away. "That's exactly what I was hoping to hear," he tells Doug, still speaking in almost a whisper. As dark is approaching rapidly at this point, Rictor turns his head up to the sky and, still with an arm around Doug, says, "We should get going. So you know a good place for ice cream? I'm feeling ice cream." Doug is still a bit dazed, but he keeps his arm around Rictor, leaning into him. "Ice cream?" he echoes, his brain taking a minute to process the question. "Oh, yeah! I actually do know a good place," he says, leading the older man down the path towards the exit. "You'll love it."