ArchivedLogs:Up Her Sleeve

Up Her Sleeve
Dramatis Personae Hive, Shelby, Flicker, Dusk, Ian	2013-04-26 '
Location <NYC> {403} Geekhaus - Village Lofts - East Village
There's kind of a college-dorm feel to this place, though some of its occupants have left college behind. Entering the apartment finds visitors greeted by the perpetually messy living room, a mismatched assortment of couches and chairs (and milk crates) surrounding the wide table in the center. The wall holds a range of posters; some political, some sporty, some from video games, and a string of white lights strung over the kitchen doorway might be a holdover from Christmas. The kitchen adjacent is just as cluttered, its table unfit for eating due to its perpetual covering of books, papers, cereal boxes, projects; the fridge is usually sparsely populated. Ketchup. Beer. Not a lot of food. There are two bedrooms here, split between the four people; the fold-out couch in the living room (often folded out!) suggests that at least one of them does not actually claim a room as their own. Soooo...Hive said beer. That was the only promise made. But Shelby has been waiting for this moment for going on six months now. This explains the gussied up teenager that appears at the door to Geekhaus. Aided by the return of more seasonable weather, Shelby's decked out in white sundress edged with eyelet lace (just don't look at her footwear, those sneakers have been through the wars), with her hair drawn back from her face and omg make-up. There's also a daisy on her cheek, reminiscent of the one she gifted to Hive so very long ago--except this one is perky and not sad. She has board hooked under one arm and that ever-present backpack over her shoulder as well. /Someone/ rushed here right after school! And she's not going to let something like a closed door keep her from her objective. With her brainmeats giving off a glow bright enough to be mistaken for Jax's, Shelby grabs for the doorknob to test its lockedness. "Heeeeey! Anyone home?" The door is locked, but it opens momentarily, Dusk unlocking the multiple locks to pull it open. "Nnnnnope nobody home," he answers Shelby cheerily. The television is on, loud sounds of shooting coming from it -- /someone/ is getting shot at in Gears of War though at the moment it's not entirely clear who. Hive and Flicker are both very intently focused on the screen, though; it's only after a sharp angry curse in Thai as one character goes down that Hive looks up with a grin. "Yo. We're getting pizza. What do you like on yours?" He's dressed much as usual. Faded jeans, fraying at the bottoms, an olive t-shirt with BLUE SUN and some chinese characters on it in navy print. There are already two sixpacks of beer bottles on the table. One stout and one IPA. << ...whoa, roommates. >> Not that Shelby is displeased to see Dusk or Flicker, her grin is for /everyone/ as she slides inside. As Dusk let her in, he's even treated to a one-armed hug as she moves by him. So far so good, she is over the threshold. "All the meat," << if you know what I mean and I think you do>> she responds as she sheds her various accessories at the door. The backpack ends up on the skateboard with the shoes beside it--because they totally clash, /ugh/. Then it's onto the couch, where she--as is customary--walks up onto it and /over/ Flicker to insinuate herself between the two guys. Leg shot! "Hi." << Yeah, he comes standard with a lot of them. >> This is quiet, amused; evidently there is Another Roommate lurking. Ian is /pretty/ lurky. Just a faint pool of shadow over by one armchair. Or he /was/ over by one armchair; now the shadow is curling up around Dusk, turning his wings smokey-looking as Dusk one-arm-hugs Shelby back. "/Extra/ sausage," Dusk says. "Peppers and mushrooms," Flicker says, scooching to make room for Shelby. Hive leans forward, sliding his laptop into his lap and grabbing one of the IPAs. He pops the top off the bottle to hand it to Shelby as he starts foodlering an order. "I'm also just getting a mountain of canoli. Just so you're all aware." Hive is sort of smirking a little at Shelby's pizza order. Flicker offers Shelby his controller. "You want to shoot him?" << Yeah, well, ya'll better just cut /out/ later. I got plans, >> Shelby thinks back at Ian--and Hive, no doubt--with a twinkly-eyed look in the direction of the shadow-cape. Then, with a mental soundtrack of 70s porn music, she reaches to take the controller and beer both. Like a boss. "Seriously? You guys don't even know how much practice I've been getting at school with this shit. Wanna play for money? Oh wait, none of you got money," she scoffs as she scootches down against the cushions and gets comfy. "Are we gonna be mugging the delivery guy or something?" "Yeah no I'm just going to mind-control him into giving us the pizzas," Hive says, settling back after placing the order. He sets his laptop aside, starting up a new round. Dusk is disappearing with his shadowcloak into the bedroom. Only /coincidentally/ to the mental sound of 70s porn music. "He's got money," Flicker says, "your doctorfriend's actually paid him. I dunno, though, he's had a whole /lifetime/ of being a ridiculous nerd." He is drinking water. He reaches to take the glass of water off the table and gulp it like maybe beating Hive in Gears of War was thirsty work. "You should come down to the park with me tomorrow, mind-control people into giving me better tips. Or, y'know, just share some of the Doc's phat lewt." Nevermind that they are sharing, via pizza and beer! And canoli. Shelby tips the bottle up, sips, then leans forward to set it on the table. Beating Hive is going to take both hands /and/ one of her bare knees tucking over his. Distractions, friends. All is fair. Sitting this way leaves her tipped though, shoulder touched to Flicker's. "You beat him, didn't you? Mormons aren't allowed to play video games, right? I read that somewhere I think. No fun stuff at /all/." "Actually, as a Mormon I'm not even allowed to /touch/ a member of the opposite sex," Flicker says, shifting his weight into a more comfortable-bolstering lean up against Shelby. "Laughter's also forbidden, just in case." Hive snorts, his gaze dropping from the screen to Shelby's leg as the game starts. "Flicker's a fucking beast, its unreal. I think he played so many video games because he was the only kid in his high school /not/ out boozing and having sex." "Pfft, no." Flicker shakes his head. "/Everyone/ in my town was LDS, it was hard enough to even find booze. Like one freaking liquor store in the entire city." "Oh man," Shelby gasps, dramatic like, "you're losing God points /right now/." Notice how she doesn't sit up, either. Such is the way of lost causes, they like bringing everyone down with them. "Y'know down South you can buy booze at the Wal-Mart? Two aisles over from the gun displays. It's crazy, especially 'cause you can't buy anything like that on Sundays. Even in clubs, after midnight." All so very conversational, right? Except as the screen flashes, and her eyes lock on, her foot begins to bounce against Hive's calf. << Guess what? >> "I lost all my God points so long ago," Flicker says this with a light tone but his smile is a little thin, a little crooked, "my church hasn't let me inside for years." He stretches a leg out to rest on a milk crate, watching the figures dart around on the screen. His fingers twitch. Twitchtwitch. "I hear crazy-ass things about the South, being friends with Jax and Ryan makes me think I should never ever go there." Hive is lifting his eyes back to the screen now, focusing. << -- What's that? >> Shelby might lack Flicker's reflexes but she isn't terrible at the game. Her fingers begin to skip over buttons and the joystick. "Yeah, I figure we could lose everything south of Kentucky and still do pretty okay." She pauses for a moment, the tip of her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. Then, "It's totally a secret, dude, but I don't even think you get God points for going to church. S'all about the...oh shit, which key is it again..." All right, so maybe she needs some practice. All of her boasting was /just that/. Big surprise. But don't count her out yet, Shelby has other tricks up her sleeve. << Huh? Oh...I'm not wearing any panties! >> That's right. Her "sleeve". "Maybe not, but it's still good to go." Flicker shrugs a shoulder, frowning at the screen. "'sides, it's just nice to have a -- wooah you'd better watch out." Hive has unfortunately had plenty of practice. He is aiming sniper-shots at Shelby's head. "-- what the fuck." This is his verbal answer to her mental communcation, eyes slanting sideways towards her. "Seriously, wh --" He looks back towards the screen quickly. To take more SHOTS. "Beer, remember?" Flicker's eyebrows raise. He doesn't question, though. He is possibly used to this sort of half-conversation. It's like listening to someone who is talking on the telephone. "I think the place'd go up in flames if I walked in," Shelby says, albeit in distracted fashion. She's trying to duck and cover to avoid being a headshot statistic. She steers her avatar towards a pillar while Hive is distracted. So /that/ was a success, at least. The rest of it, maybe not so much. His reply was neither amused nor intrigued, prompting a brief (still distracted) moment of confusion. Her brow furrows while she attempts multitasking. Pew pew, talk talk. << Yeah, beer. Look, we're having beer. It was a /joke/, dude. And c'mon, you invited me over after I asked if we could hook up, would it be /so/ bad if I were serious? >> "It's possible. They're not really fans of mutants," Flicker says with a wrinkle of his nose. "Dude," Hive is navigating closer, switching out his sniper rifle for grenades, "your church only recently decided /black/ people were OK I think it's gonna take them a few centuries to catch up to us." Flicker blushes, looking up at the ceiling. << No, >> Hive answers. While lobbing a grenade at Shelby. His hammering mental voice is likely not /much/ more pleasant. << I mena, it wouldn't be bad. It just -- be -- >> His eyes are very focused on the screen, his brow slightly furrowed. << Complicated. Dress looks /nice/, though. >> "Not so much the mutant shit, more like the pot and drinking and all of the sex I /want/ to have." Hello significant look at Hive, oh wait, /grenades/. Aaaaaa. Shelby pops up to fire a few shots at creeping Hive--only to catch a grenade in the face. Game Over. In more ways than one. Lowering the controller to her lap, she squints at him, glances at Flicker, squints at him some more. The squinting is due to eye-watering from wincing but... "How do you mean, /complicated/. It's only /complicated/ if you /make/ it complicated." "Pfft," Flicker says, "I know lots of Mormons who do /that/ kind of thing it's just when you're gay or a mutant or something that it's unforgiveable." He gets up, picking up his glass to take it to the kitchen. Maaaybe glancing back at Hive and Shelby as he refills it, this time more /daringly/ with /juice/ instead of water. Mmm. "It's complicated because it can't not be complicated," Hive leans forward towards the beers, but then drops his hand before actually picking up a stout. He slumps back into the chair instead. "I mean, and that's leaving /aside/ the /actually/ complicated. Just. The last time I did more than kiss someone, it -- didn't end great." "Seriously?" This wins Flicker some attention, diverting a little from poor Hive. Shelby watches him go, head cocked. "I thought churches were all "boo sex with lots of people". Although the black folks thing, dude, that's /so/ last century." But Hive isn't off the hook just yet. He moved. Shelby tracks movement. Like a T-Rex. "Same here. I wanna sleep with you, not /marry/ you." Okay, so there are feels involved but she is stubbornly ignoring them in favor of reaching for her beer. "Flicker, tell Hive I'm not the marrying kind, 'kay?" "Don't get me wrong, they are /mad/ anti-sex. They just don't excommunicate you for it." Flicker shrugs, staying in the kitchen but leaning up against the counter, looking out towards the living room. "Hive, Shelby's not the marrying type. Uh. But I think you might not be getting his meaning. He doesn't mean didn't end great like there was a bad breakup, he means didn't end great like he was boning this chick and then half the East Village turned into zombies." Hive shifts uncomfortably, looking away at the screen. "Yeah. It was pretty much like that. I mean, it's not, every time. But the times I fuck up I kinda really fuck up." Oh. Shelby digests this in relative silence--turning over the implications in her mind, it's true--while fidgeting with both the beer bottle and the controller. Hope springs eternal, however, and she glances at him again. Smiling, even! "But I thought Lucien fixed your brains. Look, dude, if anyone needs a lay, if anyone /deserves/ one right now, it's you. I mean, it'll be a huge sacrifice and all, but...you've kinda earned it?" And behind that she is trying not to think << don't say no, don't say no, don't say no... >> but failing miserably. Hive snorts. "Yeah, it'll be a hardship. It's good to know I have friends who'll be that self-sacrificing on my behalf." His smile is amused. He pushes his fingers through his hair, eyes tipping up towards the ceiling. "He fixed my brain as much as it /gets/ fixed. This shit's never really been easy for me, there's /always/ a risk -- I mean even when I don't eat the whole neighborhood it's been, uh, kind of. Rare. That I at least don't fuck up with my /partner/." "I'm here for you, Hive." Shelby shifts her beer to her other hand to press palm to heart. She so solemnly swears. Joke solemn rapidly becomes true solemn, however. "So that's...still a no, huh?" The disappointment is rather immense but...<< at least he's not shooting /you/ down, and he liked the dress, anyway >>...she's aiming for keeping an even keel. And while Hive might be able to tell the lie in that, /Flicker/ can't. She gestures at the unfortunate with the bottle. "How 'bout him? Can I sleep with him?" she inquires, putting on the comic face. << The dress is hot. >> Hive says this a little wryly. "Look, if you still think I'm hot when I'm an older, less-shitty telepath --" His cheeks puff out, and he exhales sharply. "Oh, yeah, him? He's free. Bang away." His smile is a little wider, though it doesn't really reach his eyes. Flicker just /blushes/ furiously. << You can pop /all/ the cherries. >> This is not Hive's slamming-heavy mindvoice, just Ian's snarky-wry one. << Dude's never even been kissed. >> << Too bad, probably won't fit when /I'm/ older. >> If this is somewhat sharper, beneath the jesting, then it can be explained away by the compliment being painful. Or the fact that Shelby has ego aplenty and even a kind refusal is likewise painful. She tips forward on the couch, takes a last long swig of the beer and bounces to her feet. To kiss Flicker? He /is/ given an assessing look but she veers for the door rather than the kitchen. "Don't worry, dude. I'm not gonna jump you," she says as she passes. "You ever /want/ to fool around though...give them a /different/ reason to give you a hard time..."" Then she is slipping into her shoes and reaching for board, for bag. << Hey Hive? Next time you should like...just tell me no straight up, 'kay? Like, none of this mixed signals shit. >> "I think I'm gonna go steal some twin-time from Jax, if I can." Flicker's nose wrinkles, a deep blush lingering in his cheeks. "Yeah. See you -- /hey/. We're having a party tomorrow. Because twins. It's going to be here. Or at Ryan's. Or on the roof. Or everywhere. You should come." "But I --" Hive is reflexively saying, and then scrunches his eyes shut, fingers clenching into his hair. "OK. Yeah. You should come," he agrees. "Have fun. With the twins." He is picking his controller back up. Waggling the other at Flicker. Very determinedly keeping his gaze fixed on the television. That's right, the last word is hers! And yet, not so very satisfying. "Sure, if I don't get eaten for having broke B's heart," Shelby says as she straightens up, tone light. "Tell Ryan Shane wants pot as a welcome back present, huh? I think he's gonna be sad if all he gets is hugs." She's just a few steps from the door and goes for it with a last, << See you, Ian and Dusk since he's in there with you. >> Door opens and... "Oh, pizza guy's comin'." So she leaves it ajar as she slips out, the sound of her board thumping to the ground and rolling off soon following. What? It's a long walk to the elevator.