Logs:Bean Bag Blabbing

Bean Bag Blabbing
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Kitty
In Absentia	2020-11-20 it's -- a weird fucking cosmic accident.
Location Kisha's Apartment
Knock-knock-knock! It is not quite Typical Vampire Hours but the sun has set; and here, waiting to be invited in, is one shaggy-haired bloodsucker. Dusk's current pallor is in line with some stereotypes; his aggressively bland wardrobe (brown corduroys, worn old Vans sneakers, a soft blue and grey sweater that hangs a little loose on his bony frame) maybe less so. He holds his phone in one hand, thick woolen cape draped over that arm and his black-and-crimson wings relaxed behind him. The door opens inward, revealing a Kitty eager to invite in her friendly local vampire. She is dressed for staying in- grey leggings, warm pink and purple striped socks, and a soft navy blue sweater with a Peter Pan collar - and smiling perhaps too brightly. “So I realized, after I got back,” Kitty starts by way of greeting, “That uh - it might be a little -“ her face goes red. “Come on in, you’ll see what I mean. Kitty has certainly made an attempt to reorganize the space for Dusk - though Bob at his massive charging dock-table contraption cannot easily be moved, the folding furniture has been throughly pressed away into their hidden-holes. In the open concept living-kitchen-dining area Kitty has moved every chair to the furthest possible point from the main entryway, and the beanbags are shoved together into a sort of Massive Bean Bag Nest. Still. The apartment was designed for Kisha (small) and her robot (not winged). It’s a squeeze. Dusk's answering smile is bright, too, a warm flash of sharp fangs that -- skews slightly crooked as he steps inside. His wings are already pulling in closer, more snug against his back as he stoops to unlace his shoes and leave them by the door. He catches one corner of his mouth between his teeth, head ducking as his eyes skim the apartment. "Oh, man," there's a slight flush in his cheeks, too, a curl of amusement wry in his voice, "I should like -- start sending people measurements before I come by." “In my defense,” Kitty says, “I have not even been here a month. And also -“ her lips curl up into a self-depreciating smile, arms pulled up into a tiny shrug, “-I’m a dumbass. The bean bags kind of rule, though.” She steps out of Dusk’s way, trying to create the Least Painful path from here to the living space. Bob sits calmly on his charging dock. “Say hi to the robot on the way in.” Dusk folds his wings tight, turning slightly as he makes his way through the room. "It will not be the first place I've had to squeeze into," he admits with a soft chuff, "and definitely won't be the last. Bean bags aren't so bad --" He considers this for a moment, angling toward the Bean Bag Nest to flop face-down on one side of it. "So long I'm careful not to turn too much or it's suddenly. Less of a bean bag and more of a bean -- spill." He folds his arms beneath his chin, looking over at Kitty. "Sorry, was I actually supposed to say hi to the robot? Is this rude? Are its feelings hurt now? I never know around these Stark people. Pretty sure some of the toys I got from B a few years back have formed their own autonomous robot society in my closet." Kitty’s flush begins to slowly fade as she follows Dusk into the living space, giving his wings as much respectful distance as she can. She flops into one bag that did not make it into the nest, pulls out Kisha’s colour-coded guide to the house and slides it across the floor. “I don’t think there is a rule for it, but I’ve been saying hi to Bob anyway. Just in case one day he decides to take over the world.” She’s only half joking. “Or leads your closet robot society in glorious revolution. I am just hedging my bets.” Dusk reaches for the laminated welcome guide, dragging it nearer with a lift of brows. He uncurls one arm so that he can reach down and flip through it. His mouth twitches, beard rasping against the beanbag cover as he shakes his head. "Y'know, with how the world's been lately I wouldn't even be surprised at that level of sci-fi fuckery. Dimensional portals? Other-world clones? I have had more believable shroom trips." “That is a glowing review of shrooms, honestly.” Kitty slumps further into her bag of beans. “Do you- you know, believe all of it? I am pretty convinced, but, like, I cannot believe this is the good timeline.” There is a small shake of her head, a hand pulling at her cheek. “Like, how. How is it worse over there.” "I'm not trying to evangelize drugs, but on occasion, this world calls for a little drugs. For me, anyway." Dusk's shoulders are flexing, slight; his wings shift just fractionally outward before immediately curling back in. He exhales slowly, eyes lifting from the welcome back to Kitty. "I wasn't sure at first. It sounds -- wild. But --" He hesitates before continuing: "The government dropped B's charges. Someone pressured them to drop B's charges -- she got out of jail yesterday because they want her help dealing with this thing. Like -- they were asking for the death penalty. They just wanted a fucking scapegoat but even so -- If they can make all that vanish like," his fingers snap. "Someone thinks this is for-real serious." His wings shiver. "President Pence. That's the stuff of nightmares." “A month ago I wouldn’t even consider it, but - the world has changed in a month. I can see why they help.” A questioning look in her expression, but she doesn’t ask. Then it’s gone, replaced by wide-eyed amazement as she straightens up. “Holy shit.” A beat. “They let her see Jax and Shane, right? It’s not like conditional release or anything?” Then - “Do you think we can shove our Pence through the rift-portal-thing? Abandon him over there?” "Hm?" Dusk's brows lift in answer to the questioning look. He half-glances behind himself but then looks back to Kitty. "Yeah, they -- just let her go. Said hey there's this thing and you need to help fix it." His brows knit. "Which makes me even more worried what they think might come through it. I'm guessing -- something worse than --" His fingers scrunch into the beanbag, a very soft thrum growling low under his voice for just a second. The growl fades into a soft breath of laughter, a crooked smile. "Oh man. If we're gonna foist off our garbage I have a list -- ooh. Maybe we could work out some kind of exchange program. One-way garbage cleanup seems unfair." Kitty entertains this thought briefly, bites her lip. “I don’t study anything that would be helpful with the physics of it, but I don’t think a dimensional tear would be. Particularly stable.” The laughter is contagious- in short order Kitty is grinning too. “Hmmm. Feels unfair to us to take any of their garbage, though.” A pause, a tap on the fabric cover of the bean bag. “We could take the other Pence, I guess, if the coup fails.” Kitty makes a face. “That felt wrong in my mouth. I don’t want their garbage people!" Dusk turns his face downward, momentarily hiding his grin behind the crook of his arm. "Okay but they probably don't want ours either like they already got rid of one Trump and look where that led! Going through it again and their world would be like --" His shudder is exaggerated. The tremor of wings that accompanies it snags one claw in the beanbag chair's cover and he winces, carefully extricating it. Just a little heavier: "-- Incoming administration's said nothing about slowing the roll on registration." Kitty’s eyes roll over the room, gaze landing on Bob. “Okay, here is my pitch. We hack the Osbots, program them to attack Sentinels, send the Osbots over. During the robot wars they destroy each other. No more robocops, no more mutant hunting robots. Everyone wins a little.” The grin fades. “My ballot felt real dirty this year,” she says eventually, quietly. “You think this is a warning? That the other world is in our future?” "Oh man that would make for a pretty epic movie climax." This time the thrum under his voice is gentler, a low purring that comes and goes in time with his quiet laugh. "The Osbots have had a lot more security vulnerabilities than the Sentinels," he adds a little more pensively, before tacking on with another twitch of smile, "just, like, hypothetically speaking." His hand shifts, palm scrubbing against his cheek. "I don't know. I think it's -- a weird fucking cosmic accident. And also that we're half an inch away from it." A mischievous smile briefly flies across Kitty’s face before shifting back into contemplative seriousness. “It feels almost like. I don’t know. Like Dawso- DJ is some sort of. Prophet. Soothsayer. It’s weird.” She extracts herself from the bean bag, shifts so she’s sitting on the floor with the bag behind her back. “DJ,” she repeats. “Can’t believe that’s what he went with.” Dusk starts to sit up, too, but lies back across the beanbag when his claws start to scrape against the floor. "It's weird thinking about this whole world where we're -- being hunted and --" He squeezes at the beanbag again. "Guess it's kind of messed up to feel like we should do something to help like -- not like we have any end of hate that needs fixing in our own backyard. Just -- shit." His head shakes again, expression easing with the snort that follows. "Fuck. DJ. Does the apocalypse make people -- bro-y-er?" Kitty lets out a short barking laugh, covers her mouth with her hand with the ensuing giggles. “It’s has such a ...frat boy vibe. Not something I ever imagined any version of Dawson being.” She stands up, waves at Dusk not to bother. “Do you drink? I have wine here, and I don’t think I can think about this any longer sober. Making my head spin.” "Oh my God. Are there Mormon frats. Like cults within cults. You know, the beard kind of suited him, though? Flannel and everything like this whole lumberjack vibe. I know alternate universe clones are supposed to be evil but terrible name choice aside, that look was pretty wholesome." Dusk starts to lever himself up reflexively when Kitty rises but sinks back down comfortably at her wave, bunching the beanbags back under his chin. "Drinking on an empty stomach probably not my best ever idea but I am down for a bad idea kind of evening." Kitty hums thoughtfully. “I cannot imagine a Mormon AEPi, but two days ago I could not imagine a parallel lumberjack family man version of Flicker bouncing up. So my mind is wide open right now.” A little grin as she uncorks the bottle of red wine (easily, by phasing it through the glass) and pours both of them a glass. “If you want more bad ideas, I think the robot makes martinis?” Her grin grows as she makes her way back, passes the glass to Dusk with care. Now Dusk does push himself up, careful and a little awkward as he rolls up into a crouch. A wince briefly flits across his face when his lowest claws scrape against the floor, cheeks coloring red as he reaches to take the glass from Kitty. His other hand moves to his chin, coming out and down away from it in a signed THANK-YOU that he follows up a moment later, spoken -- "Thanks." He resettles himself carefully seated cross-legged on the beanbag pile, wings spreading -- slightly crumpled across its surface, claws flexing carefully out of the way of the fabric. His eyes dart to Bob, brows lifting and his smile delighted. "No shit? Bartender robot, that is what my life has been missing. OK, I thought I was a nerd, but I clearly need to step my game up somewhere. Smart homes need to have about a hundred percent less spying and a hundred percent more drink prep." It's only after he actually takes a swallow of his wine that he remembers there was a question somewhere in there: "I do like martinis. And just hanging out for a moment without -- things being on fire. Thanks." Kitty bites her lip as Dusk readjusts. “No worries.” She kicks her own beanbag a little closer to Dusk - within glass clinking distance, if she leans forward, but not so close as to crowd him further. A sip of wine as Dusk extols the virtues of bartender robots, a laugh. “Things are always gonna be on fire - I think. We deserve a break.” A smaller smile, a grateful duck of the head. "Especially when you helped me put one out." She raises her glass to Dusk. “L’chaim, or something.” Another sip, and she sets the glass on the floor, reaching for the welcome guide. Opens it with a mischievous grin. “Okay. Let’s make some robotinis.”