ArchivedLogs:Fun And Games

Fun And Games
Dramatis Personae Micah, Dusk, Mannie	10 July 2014 Retrieving more games for the Commons gets a little interrupted. (Warning: suggestive content)
Location <NYC> Pandemonium Games - Lower East Side
Two floors of geekery, Pandemonium Games in the Lower East Side is, at first blush, a bookstore rather than a gaming store, small and cozy with aisles dedicated to sci-fi and fantasy books. The glass counter opposite the bookshelves, admittedly, does hold a wealth of cards from various collectible card games, though binders of Magic cards predominate. Bins of dice in a wide variety of colours stand at one end of the counter. It is the lower level of the store that is usually the busy one, though. The stairs leading down to the basement head first into shelves and shelves of games; board games, RPG sourcebooks, Warhammer figurines, battle mats. Beyond the shelves of goods, a much larger room is mostly bare save its many wide tables, filled at all hours with people playing tabletop games of all kinds. Around sunset there is usually a bit more light and colour to the world, but this grey-drizzly day just seems eager for night to come a little early. There is about a comfortable hour before the games shop closes for the day, a decent collection of folks browsing and gathered at the tables downstairs around a Magic game there, a game of Catan going strong with the requisite jokes about wood and sheep, a group playing the BSG board game off in one corner that seems to involve a lot of pointing to the other players and accusing them of being toasters. Micah is dressed in after work post-shower T-shirt and jeans, his shirt of the moment a charcoal grey with a half dozen Minions absconding with the TARDIS depicted on it. "So, you'll hafta remind me if we picked somethin' up already," he comments to his companion as they enter through the door, the bell on it alerting others to a new arrival. "Also, I don't hafta limit m'self t'the one-die-per-trip rule anymore. Still got a lotta replacin' t'do." His eyes /might/ already be drawn to the shiny-shiny dice bins. Dusk trails his fingers through the shiny-shiny dice bins as he passes, rattling the dice quietly in their containers. "You can /splurge/. /All/ the dice. Even Jax likes them." When they're glittery, anyway. The vampire bat is dressed summer-casual, camo cargo shorts and Vans sneakers and a short-sleeved green henley, his enormous black wings very much just visible at his back; it earns a few /looks/ as they enter but he's a familiar enough face here it doesn't earn much /more/ than that. He looks pale, at the moment, a rather excessive pallor that stands in sharp contrast to his dark hair, dark eyes, dark scruff of beard. A strip of clean white bandaging is wrapped around his wrist, and his other hand rests on the flap of a messenger bag whose strap is slung in between his wings in its path across his body. "I still can't make up my mind if I even want to /start/ collecting Magic cards again. I feel like getting my collection blown the fuck up was almost kind of freeing?" Though that doesn't stop him /eying/ the counter speculatively. Shambling in is Mannie, a very obvious mutant, and definitely not a familiar face as she's never stepped in here in her life. She's bound to get stares, with her long snout, body covered in scales, and extremely long spiky tail. The only clothing she has is a blue and green swirled sarong around her waist to cover her lower half, and to be frank, it looks like she has no clue why she's in here really. Around her right arm is a tattered backpack, which, if the name on the front is hers, labels her 'DAVIE'. But she /does/ eye all the items inside, and nervously eyes all the people, very wary stares. And, keeping her distance, it seems. "Mmn, yes. I really only have one full set right now. Need t'stock up a bunch of d6's an' d10's an' /prob'ly/ at least one or two more full sets..." Yep, now Micah is digging through the bins, holding assorted plastic polyhedrons up to get a better view of their colour or how the light plays through them. Rolling a few speculatively to see if they're /good/ ones. "I managed t'avoid ever collectin' my own. Played often enough off other people's cards when I was younger, but...never found havin' t'buy things over'n over very appealin'." He glances over at Dusk, smirking as the other man eyes the cards. "D'you play enough t'make it worthwhile t'start over? I'm pretty sure there are digital versions now for gettin' a fix here an' there without all the collectin'." A small wave is offered to the new arrival simply because she's right /there/. "Here, this one's like peacock-colours. Get that." Dusk tears his gaze away from the cards, turning back to rifling through the dice; he's picked up a swirly blue-and-green d10 to set it down atop Micah's head. "I /did/ play enough back when I had cards. Won a few tournaments here and there." Though his expression drops into a slow frown with the admission: "Played a lot /more/ when Ian was around, though. But even Hive and Flicker -- I mean you've seen Hive's ink, right?" His eyes slide over away from the dice bins to look towards Mannie. Not with a stare like the other people in the room have for the strange (/very/ strange) face but with a quick friendly smile and one fist stretching out towards the teenager for a knuckletap. "Yo. You look a little lost. Games in the basement, books up here. And so many shiny dice." Mannie stares at Micah's wave for a second, before almost /jumping/ backwards, more of a rather fast trudge backwards, when Dusk stretches his fist out. She knows what a knuckletap is, but she's not sure if he...might be poisoned or something, but her eyes seems like that /might/ be a thought crossing her mind. Mannie takes a second, before moving towards the dice, keeping her eyes on Dusk and Micah nervously. "Dice. 6 sided? Shiny?" "Oh, thanks." Micah retrieves the head-die and plops it into the velvety pouch he retrieved to store his growing collection. "Hm. Are Hive an' Flicker startin' /their/ collections back up? Might be worth checkin' first." A hint of pale pink blooms almost shyly in his cheeks. "Seen it, yeah." Seriously, though, the tat isn't even anywhere /that/ exciting. "Got plenty of d6's. Lots of 'em are shiny. Bins here are plastic. They've got stone an' metal ones in sets. An' y'can buy cubes of 'em if y'want a lot of matchin' ones." Little gestures indicate each of the things Micah mentions. He doesn't work here, but...when it comes to finding the shinies in a gameshop. "He /claims/ it's a Buddhist thing but real geeks know the truth." Dusk drops his hand at Mannie's sudden startle, wings pressing flat against his back. "Hey," is a little softer, though still warm and easy, "I swear I'm not gonna bite." Though the very sharp fangs in his mouth don't entirely make this statement /very/ reassuring. "There's /so/ freaking much shiny here. Four sided, six sided, eight sided, ten sided, twelve. Twenty. Have a couple /hundreds/ though they're less shiny." He shrugs a shoulder, reaching to pull out some glittery black and blue D6s and hold them up on a palm. "Hive and Flicker --" He hesitates before this answer to Micah. "I don't know. They've had so much more than games on their mind since moving in." Mannie stares at him for a second, maybe partially less scared but still pretty scared. "Okay..." She takes a second to rifle through the dice bin before she finds two D6s, before heading towards the counter...and hiding the D6s in her claws, quickly moving past the counter and out the door. And then hightail as far away as possible with shiny loot, so she can finally get ice and whatever else she can find. "No reason ink can't serve two masters," Micah opines of Hive's tattoo explanation. "Dunno. Maybe it'd be somethin' less /worrisome/ t'think about? Less y'think it'd just bum 'em out thinkin' of their old collections goin' up in smoke." His expression clouds a little, thinking of those two. "Worries /me/ them bein' off alone. Don't know if either of 'em is /really/ gettin' proper care." A nod encourages Mannie as she digs through the dice. "Definitely no shortage of shiny. Or colours. Or /sides/." Her sudden exit earns a small shrug before he turns back to Dusk. "They...talked t'you any more? I stopped textin' Hive but..." "I think the distraction would be good for them but it's hard to get them -- distracted. I kind of wish they /would/ just fucking --" Dusk trails off, lips faintly twitching as Mannie heads out. His wings shift and resettle at his back. "Hive hasn't answered shit since he left so I'm just kinda letting him have his peace. Flicker showed up yesterday to --" His bandaged wrist turns over, "-- leech me again. Didn't really /talk/ though. You know how he is. Just uses guys for their /bodies/ and then takes off without even staying to cuddle after." Micah's lips thin at that news, head bobbing in a few unhappy-acknowledging nods. "Same for me. The textin' not the leechin'." He doesn't look any happier at the information about Flicker, since he /does/ know how he is. A hand reaches out to pet at one of Dusk's wings, finally leaving the dice buckets alone. "We're around pretty regularly if y'got spare cuddles as need usin', though." There is, at least, a hint of a smile paired with the words. "I think they've -- just got a /whole/ lot they need to --" Despite his previous jest, Dusk's expression is kind of heavy, his hand falling back to his side. "They've been put through more than anyone should ever have to be put through. I think it might finally have been too fucking much." His wing slides out, rubbing gently against Micah's hand and then curling around to pull the other man closer in a slow squeeze of fuzzy-soft hug. "I always need those. Feel kind of stupid needing /anything/ right now, though, they're the ones who just got put through /hell/." "Mmn. Yeah, I'm worried Flicker ain't even really...processin' the whole thing with his arm. Didn't even wanna /discuss/ it with Kate 'cause it might be an inconvenience. Like he was askin' t'borrow money, not...keep from missin' a limb forever." The tightness in Micah's jaw thaws slightly with the wing-hug as he also steps in closer, nuzzling his chin against Dusk's shoulder. "Just 'cause other people need things don't mean you can't." "I think after a point it's hard to really process things at all. As much as he's been /stomped/ on it's maybe more just surprising that point wasn't three fucking /years/ ago. But that kid /died/ for him. Hive /killed/ for him." Around Micah, Dusk's wing shivers just a little. "Small wonder he's not jumping to have anyone else go out of their way on his behalf just yet." His wing drops back behind him, his head shaking. "Yeah. I know. I just kind of also need to -- /help/ some of this. But I don't think I can. They need space more than they need me hovering around trying to not feel useless." "The way I hear it that boy was /gonna/ die, he just...Hive saved other people 'stead of lettin' 'em /all/ die. I know it don't /feel/ that way, but it don't help t'keep /sayin'/ it...like that." Micah's fingers curl into Dusk's shirt, the bag of dice pressed up against his side. "'Specially need t'watch how we talk with our guests still around. They're makin' Hive out t'be some vicious murderer who's in all their heads just 'cause he's on some kinda power trip. Also, he's pickin' fights with 'em an' /apparently/ I threw him an' Flicker out." His nostrils flare slightly with a heavy exhalation. "S'hard. I know they need help an' I wanna help, but they don't want... There's a point where I gotta push about /certain/ things, though. Medical care an' all. S'hard not t'wanna push about the rest, too." "Not sure it helps to keep saying it like /that/." Dusk shrugs one wing, shaking his head as his fingers trail back into the dice with a quiet shifting rattling of plastic pieces. "Hive sure as hell had reasons for making the decision he made but it doesn't change what happened. /Flicker/ was gonna die, Hive could've saved the other kid and killed /him/ -- brushing aside that that /was/ a /choice/ Hive made I don't think is fair to the people who lost a friend or even to Hive." His fingers curl down, scooping a handful of dice into his palm. "Medical care, yeah, but after that I don't know what they need. I don't want to presume to know what they need. They say they need space. /I/ need people more than fucking anything when everything's going to hell so it's always just /easy/ to imagine so does everyone else." "The /who/ part might've been a choice. But that there were people dyin' /weren't/. Just. Feels wrong t'let people make out like he knifed the boy on a street's all." Micah lets his head fall forward, brow pressed now to Dusk's shoulder. "I don't know either. Just feels like...y'can't know when they're isolatin' themselves. An' I don't know if they'd identify why they need an' /ask/ if there was somethin', s'just. Frustratin'." His head starts to lift then decides against it, falling back against Dusk once more. "An' I know, like, Hive usually needs people more'n he's willin' t'let on. I been tryin' t'leave 'em alone. Just feels wrong. But I can't trust if that's 'cause it's wrong for them or it just feels wrong for /me/. So. There's that." Dusk's wing curls in again, rubbing at Micah's back and mussing at the back of his hair. "I don't know," he admits, heavily. "They have each other, though. So at least it's not like they're /alone/. And Flicker's usually pretty solid about asking for what he's needing so if he says that's space and time it probably /is/. Hive --" His wing squeezes in closer. "-- that's just /hard/. He does need people. But on the other hand, more than anyone else he never /has/ time to himself. Even his own gorram mind is never his." Micah's shoulders roll back into Dusk's rubbing. "Hope so," he says of Flicker asking for what they need. "Just don't matter /where/ Hive is short of goin' somewhere with /no/ people, he ain't gonna get quiet for his head." Tipping his head back, he presses a kiss to the other man's scruffy jaw. "Apologies. Didn't mean t'make this all /depressin'/. We were s'posed t'be gettin' more games for the place. Was s'posed t'be fun." Dusk keeps his wing around Micah, steering the other man off towards the stairs. "Right. Games. We can do that. But this is -- important, it's not. OK it /is/ depressing but talking about it is better than not-talking, I think. And talking about it /here/ is probably -- better /still/ because given that he's still got some of the refugees in his mind, talking about him at /home/ would probably just ping at him kind of annoyingly." His wing rubs against Micah's shoulder, and he dips his head to kiss Micah's temple lightly. "Fun can happen, too, though. Maybe not /in/ the store. They frown on that." Micah is easily steered down to the basement for the all-important task of new games acquisition. "It is. Just kinda rough. When there still ain't nothin' t'be done for it. Though, yeah, better not t'talk about 'em too much 'round the guests, true." His steps falter, not quite making it down the next one in his pause at the kiss and comment. "Oh. Ohgosh, I meant. Like. Fun pickin' out games an'. Just. That." So much for the faint pink earlier. A fiery red springs to his cheeks as if it had been waiting in the wings. Dusk's grin is returning now, fangy and bright. One long upper thumb-claw curls inward, brushing lightly in against the side of Micah's neck. "Hey, I'm talking about having fun playing games /too/. Mine are just kind of the messier sort. On the plus side, you don't need any little fiddly pieces. Already come standard with everything you need." Claws and necks, that's hardly fair. Micah's chin tips, his body leaning subtly toward that wing like a leaf turning to sunlight. A faint purr rumbles deep in his throat, red creeping on up through his neck and ears. "Does sound like fun. We ain't...got our other games yet." Though, of note, he isn't moving any further down the stairs. In the relative (temporary) privacy of the stairs, Dusk presses Micah back, pushing the other man up against the railing as his head dips to scrape teeth very lightly over the spot his claw just pressed. "-- Store'll still be here tomorrow." His breath is warm against Micah's skin with his quiet words, lips pressing now to the hollow of the other man's throat. "You want to get home?" Suddenly finding himself shoved against the rail, the purr shifts but can't quite decide whether it wants to be a growl or a touch of a whimper. Micah's head falls back that much further, baring his neck to Dusk's teeth as his hips press back against the other man. "Will be." He trembles at the kiss. "Yes, please." Though he /does/ finally remember that bag of dice in his hand, fingers clenched tight around them as they are. "Should...prob'ly pay for these first maybe." "Yeah. Probably." Though now it's /Dusk/ who isn't moving, keeping Micah pressed where he is as he turns his head down, mouth capturing the other man's in a sudden fierce and hungry kiss. It doesn't break until footsteps sound on the stairs, a pair of teenagers heading back up now that their game has finished -- even then it isn't /company/ that draws his attention so much as the derisive, "queers," that one of the boys coughs into his hand on his way up. Dusk is laughing, though, when he shifts his head to bury his face instead against Micah's neck. His huge wings roll and stretch, slightly, behind him, pulling back in quite soon as the small confines of the stairway don't allow them a whole lot of /room/ to move. "Oh. Man. /That's/ kind of refreshing." Not that Micah is /complaining/ any. Or resisting. Or really doing /much/ other than responding to the kiss in kind, lips to lips, eyes falling closed as his arms wrap tighter around Dusk's torso. The teenagers don't receive a reaction until such time as Dusk breaks the kiss. /Then/ there's that tiny whimper, settled on what it means to be this time. "/Just/ queers. Must be gettin' late. Too tired for much else, I guess." His hands sneak under the other man's shirt to skim up along his ribs, only /fingertips/ on the right since the rest of the hand remains occupied with dice bag. "S'just. Not usually the /first/ thing people go for with me." There's laughter in Dusk's voice, one giant wing snaking tighter to hold the older man closer to him. "It's a nice change." His mouth presses to Micah's again, just as hungry this time as the last, gooseflesh prickling his skin under Micah's fingers. When he breaks off again it is slow, not interrupted this time but just sliding into a press of lips to Micah's neck, a tiny sharp nip of fangs. "Right. Okay." Now he /does/ step back -- though his wing stays tucked around Micah, grip loosening to allow freer movement again. "Dice. /Then/ fun." "Dunno. I'd go for that with you pretty quick." There's no help for the blushing, now, the red having claimed most of Micah's visible skin. See? Going for that right there with more deep-eager kisses. His breath catches with the tinybite, posture just /melting/ into the hold of Dusk's wing until its grip loosens. He clears his throat gently, bringing his weight more properly onto his feet. "Mmn-right. Buyin'. Drivin'. Then home." Dusk doesn't make even a tiny attempt /to/ help the blushing, running one hand down over Micah's chest as he nips just a little harder at the skin on the other man's neck. "I don't know if it'll be /that/ quick. We have all night." Micah's breath catches again, /this/ nip all the more unexpected after that false-start at actually leaving. When his breathing resumes, it does so with another long-low purr. "/That/ part don't got no cause t'be quick, no." If they're not going, those hands are going to slide along Dusk's sides again instead. A soft growl rumbles in Dusk's throat at the slide of hands. His mouth closes around Micah's skin, sucking gently until his teeth sink in again, just a tiny prick that draws two pinpoint-drops of blood. The growl deepens, tongue stroking against skin as Dusk presses Micah back against the rail again. More footsteps approaching the stairway from the basement actually /do/ pull him back again, face flushed and his fangs still bared in a small smile. "Oh, fuck. Right -- right. We should. Go. My restraint is /mostly/ gone and your van is a shitty place to lose it all. It is not friendly to these wings." Between the rail and the wing and Dusk pressed up against him, Micah isn't paying much attention to staying upright again, just clinging back to the other man. He muffles a moan against Dusk's shoulder, face buried there as his fingers curl in to run nails against Dusk's back. Again, his feet have to work to accept his weight and find his balance when there is another pull away and people approaching. "Let's...go get through the line 'fore anybody else can beat us to it. S'a /real/ short drive home, at least." Dusk's wing, at least, is a rather /supportive/ thing where it curls around Micah's back, supple and strong as the other man finds his feet again. It stays wrapped against Micah, half supporting and half just urging the other man home all the more emphatically. Even with the very-short drive Micah /may/ find himself with those holes in his neck poked just a bit wider before they actually make it through the door -- there's that whole long walk to and from the car, after all. And Dusk may be in the mood for games.