ArchivedLogs:Good/Wicked

Good/Wicked
Dramatis Personae Matt, Shane	2016-05-24 "{I could splash water on you. Check for sure.}"
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Second Floor - Lower East Side
The stairs and the elevator here unload people onto opposing sides of a balcony, a wide sweep of space overlooking the foyer below. Above there is a clear view up to the balcony on the next story up, and the roof skylight pours light down through all three floors of the building. The rooms here wrap themselves around the central balcony, with the lounge-like game room on one side, flanked by a children's playroom and an entertainment center for more electronic forms of recreation. The entertainment center and the playroom each have a single-user gender-neutral toilet adjacent to them. Two sides of the balcony hold an entrance into the large climbing-maze that leads both up and down through the center of the house, for those who think the stairs or elevator is too prosaic. It's a fairly lively Game Night, at least compared to recent attendance levels, dampened by final projects and exams. The Game and Media Rooms both bubble with conversation and movement and laughter, but Matt is taking a break. Dressed in a pale seafoam t-shirt with a white whale curled beneath a seven-pointed star and worn blue jeans that drag on the ground where they slouch over brown athletic sandals, he stands at the railing of the inner balcony overlooking parts of the climbing sculture and the foyer below. He holds his phone slack in one hand, its screen just dimmed to black, ignored, and a half-empty bottle of beer in the other hand. Shane has not been Gaming, although he has been -- around, vaguely. On a couch swiping Joshua's beer, loitering by a table watching B's game of Innovation, over by the television leaning against Dusk's wings, watching /Supergirl/ and spying on his poker hand. But now he is out here, barefoot, in slacks, crisp button-down though his vest has been unbuttoned, a squat glass in his own hand still mostly-full of whisky. He turns, leaning back agains the railing beside Matt. "All game'd out?" Matt slips his phone back into his pocket and drops his hand to Shane shoulder, squeezing gently. "I've won enough." He lifts the beer to his lips, his smile faint and philosophical. "Handed the trouncing stick to Flicker for the evening. Enjoying a life of comfort and ease now. Maybe I'll wander back in and wave my cane at the whippersnappers who still think they can finish Twilight Emperium in one night." "For tonight? For /ever/? How do you know when you've had your fill of winning?" Shane leans into Matt's touch, his eyes fixed down on his glass. "I always pictured comfort with more -- chairs in. I guess beer is a good start, though. You seem pretty young to be retiring." "{For the moment,}" Matt replies easily, switching to French. "{Perhaps I will grow weary of my retirement in time and go show them how it's done. From a nice, comfy chair.}" His fingers knead at Shane's shoulder. "How about you? Are you going to get your feet wet tonight?" "{We've got plenty of those around, at least.}" There's a quiet rumbling purr that thrums in Shane's chest, gills fluttering slow at Matt's kneading. "Don't you know I melt in water? Witch-style." "Mmm. A /beanbag/ chair. Or just Dusk." Matt brushes the backs of his fingers over the gills on Shane's neck. "{You've got it all wrong. /I'm/ the witch, remember?}" He sips at his beer a little ostentatiously. "{Dusk sure wouldn't mind. And you're a /good/ witch.}" Shane shivers, his gills pressing flat as he leans closer up against Matt's side. "It's wicked witches that melt." "{Are you quite so sure I'm a good witch?}" Matt bows his head, his voice quiet as he gathers Shane closer. "{You've played Gosu with me, after all.}" "{I could splash water on you. Check for sure.}" Shane wiggles his glass of whisky in Matt's direction, indicatively. Not with a whole lot of conviction, though. He's mostly too focused on tipping his head, pressing the side of his neck up into the touch of the other man's fingers, his low purr deepening. "You feel pretty good to me right now. Goblins notwithstanding." "{Maybe I'm so powerful I can charm the water into sparing me--good /or/ wicked.}" Chuckling, Matt drains his beer. "Well. I've had enough resting on laurels. Let's go find a game to crash, shall we?" Shane pulls a slow breath in, his head tipping down to brush his cheek against the side of Matt's hand. "{You? I don't doubt it. /You/ could charm the stars out the damn sky.}" He straightens, slow and somewhat reluctant, fingers tightening around his glass. "If you can find any in the city. -- Mmmsure. So long as there's a comfy chair."