ArchivedLogs:Boys
| Boys | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2015-02-10 "I'm not. Really even sure where to start. With the words you just said." |
| Location
Mutant Mongrels MC garage | |
In here it smells like engine oil and rubber, electrical burns and metal. A large expanse of space with a whole bevy of tools all arranged in /actually/ some sort of order along the side walls, a number of motorbikes in various states of de- and re-construction near the back. At the moment Ion is in a dirty blue denim shirt unbuttoned over an equally dirty white tee, sleeves rolled up. He's not working right now. He's /overseeing/ work -- sortakinda. More or less. Or really he's sitting up on an empty block, watching work happen and kind of simultaneously watching Eridani where they're settled right nearby, on a lot of padding covered in a soft blanket with a bright colorful mobile of plastic bugs and birds spinning overhead. "{No time at all, baby boy, you're gonna know all this shit like the back of your fucking --}" He pauses, looking down. "{Claw.}" B, in contrast, /is/ working. Diligently, hard, lying down half-alongside and half-beneath an already heavily modified bike. Ze's stripped down out of most of hir schoolclothes (to keep them considerably less dirty than Ion's), working now in sleeveless undershirt and a pair of black leggings, heavy clompy boots on over top. "Huh?" Much of the Spanish kind of goes over hir head. "Brunch isn't going to need this to fly anyway." Curled up in a fetal ball, Eridani opens their bulging green eyes when Ion speaks. One ear swivels toward him, the drooping tip abruptly standing up once it reaches a certain angle. They try to rise, but cannot quite manage to push up on spindly limbs--looking bonier than ever--and merely flop over onto their other side. One black-furred wing swipes petulantly at a plastic bird in the mobile, knocking it into a crazed circular flight. A soft clicking rises from their throat at this, but fades quickly as their eyes drift shut again. "Well sure the Frittata he gonna fly just-alright on his own but." Ion slides down to sit cross-legged on the blanket beside Eridani, reaching out to rub lightly at the infant's belly. "But this, yo, he be flying in /style/. Plus, fff, I can /walk/ just fine but I gotta get uptown in a hurry I ain't gonna /want/ to." His hand makes a small WHOOSH motion through the air. "That, it's where you come. Trick everyone out like you fucking -- fucking --" His fingers snap together. "Who that one, give James Bond all his shit?" "Q?" B grins at this, quick and bright. "I can be Q. Did James Bond ever have a flying motorcycle? I can't remember." Hir gills flutter as ze tinkers with the bike, only sparing a brief look for Eridani and Ion. "Going to be a bit before it's road-worthy, though. Air-worthy? Mmm." Hir brows furrow. "How come the Egg clicks like that?" Eridani latches onto Ion's hand--a bit sluggishly, by their standards--tiny kitten-like claws catching on his grease-stained wrist and tiny needly teeth worrying at a knuckle. That they have fed recently seems evident though, as they do not try to actually sink their fangs in. The clicking returns, louder and more rapid, something halfway between a purr and an engine firing up. "James Bond should've had a damn flying motorcycle. Guess it might wrinkle-up the suits, though?" Ion's hand moves lazily, wrassling at Eridan's claws in slo-mo. "Shit, I don't know. It's /all-purpose/ clicking. Click-he-happy, click-he-hungry, click-he-pissed. Growl, purr, all just --" A small noise in Ion's throat mimics Eridani's clicking. "Guess that's a dragon-noise. Now he just look a sleepyhead, though. You think he look sleepy? You sleepy, tinymonster?" "I think he -- uh, they -- how do you know he's a he?" B interrupts hirself, sitting up briefly to look over at Ion. "... looks kind of goofy." Hir lips purse for a moment; ze looks between Ion and the bike-in-progress. "I don't know if I could really make a /classy/ enough bike for James Bond. Motorcycles don't exactly scream debonair." Eridani has wrapped both of their wings around Ion's hand to prevent its escape and is now attempting to fit the knuckle into their mouth wholesale. It looks not a little bit ridiculous, their jaw forced so far open that their purplish-gray tongue lolls out one side and one of their eyes squints shut while the other strains to see their prey better. The clicking has definitely become more growl-like. "/Pff/." Ion leans down, bonking his forehead very lightly against Eridani's with a /snort/. "You see this dumbass motherfucker, of course he a he right? Only like eating and fighting. Just fucking bite everything like he damn well own it. What you call that then?" His free hand stretches out to poke a fingertip at Eridani's tongue. B's mouth opens, closes again. Hir eyes scrunch shut tight, head shaking. "I don't -- think that that's --" /Scrunch/. One black-stained hand scrubs at hir eyes. "I'm not. Really even sure where to start. With the words you just said. Um. /Um/. I think. Maybe I should just. Keep. Working." Hir expression is struggling somewhere between pained and trying not to dissolve into a fit of giggling as ze lies back down to continue hir work. Eridani freezes in the midst of their most enthusiastic chewing, apparently puzzled by the finger on their tongue. They try to twist their head around to see, and when this fails they throw a very small, very quiet tantrum. Wings flail and buffet, the soft clicking gone so rapid it sounds like a buzz. Scrawny digitigrade legs fold up and bunny-kick--clumsily--at Ion's other hand. This does not last long, however. The hatchling settles down soon enough and decides to just gnaw on the finger and, so doing, drifts off to sleep again. | |
