deercountry | april catch

Entry tags:

april catch - all

Who: viktor and others, open to all with some closed prompts
What: some late march/early april logs, including some tdm stuff. i'm happy to attach something else on if anyone's interest in doing something specific
When: late march through april
Where: various

content warning; terminal illness, arcane season 1 spoilers, likely game typical beast gore/body horror, potentially ableism mentioned, claustrophobic imagery

open prompts.

fishers of dreams - the lighthouse, early april (tdm)

a. while awake

[if you've been roped into this lighthouse business too you may enter to find a man already there. he seems vaguely disgruntled by the business, offers vague greetings but otherwise sticks to scribbling in his notebook. it looks like schematics and formulae, but anyone with an eye for either might notice they tend to trail off and start in odd bursts.

viktor will offer to cook when evening falls (or whatever seems to be the right mealtime in this place) so maybe that is a better time to strike up conversation. the smell coming from the kitchen is heavy on whatever spices the place stocks, promising pain to anyone who doesn't have the stomach for that sort of thing. worse if he finds the rotgut liquor tucked away, which he will pull out and offer despite smelling more like turpentine than anything edible.

these tricks of the eye though, flashes of people vaguely recognizable, he chalks it up more hallucinations. last month was mushrooms, so this? irritating, far more distracting, but it followed the pattern.

it isn't until later in all this he'll track whoever is with him down.] Did you see someone else come through? There, just up the stairs.

b. nightmare

[trying to reach the odd lighthouses is fruitless, the shadows converge and when the dark clears the area seems more closed in than before. it shouldn't be, he was just outside on the shore, yet now the dark sky seems to hang too low, lower still, suffocating.]

What now? This is another illusion of sorts, is it not? One this place is so fond of. [viktor sounds more irritated than anything, maybe defensive since the grip his has on his crutch is white-knuckle tight. in the distance seems to be a lighthouse, though the light is far and the area is so stifling, promising a tunnel that will close and snuff out the light entirely.

it's ridiculous of course, the walls are not that close, certainly not enough for this suffocating grip on the lungs and throat. there's no real explanation, less so when a few steps forward and the ground begins to dot with great metal cables, the distinct, sickly sweet smell of chemicals in the air. there are pools between them where the ocean should have been, this time shallow spills of what could be gasoline or something similar, slick rainbow puddles, oily and difficult to walk through without slipping or sinking.]

(ooc; for this one please, feel free to add your own character's nightmare in any flavor at any point!)

odds and ends - willful machine, early april

[viktor can be found around the vendors often enough, especially those specializing in scrap metal, tools or small machinery. for the most part he doesn't stick out, except for the fact often his massive omen often accompanies him, some sort of huge pink salamander/axolotl that he'll lean against or ask rather politely to help carry larger purchases.

he doesn't seem to notice or care about any attention, though the creature will blink curiously around. feel free to approach or find him haggling rather intently for such a stick of a man, accent thickening when it gets heated enough. maybe you want the same scrap? or are looking for something and he's standing nearby enough to notice a lost look and offers assistance?]

[one might also find him about by the sound of a nasty coughing fit. he stands with his back curled, a rag to his mouth as a makeshift handkerchief. it's a wet cough that shakes his entire frame, and when it's over his sniffs and clears his throat, straightening.

the cloth is stained in a pale color that catches the perpetual moonlight of april. paleblood, that he regards for a moment before folding the cloth in on itself with a small frown.]

closed prompts.

jinx - willful machine, late march

[viktor doesn't stay by the lamp exactly. he would usually but he hardly sees the point when this person he's meeting knows him by sight as far as he can tell. it leaves him feeling comfortable to wander within eyeshot mostly of the lantern, strolling down the canal docks to find a place to stand and watch the boats cut slowly through the water.

he likes it here, he thinks, in this district. the noise and foot traffic, the winding canals and dirty water, the boats bobbing to and fro - it wouldn't be a bad place to set up. a lab that will double as his home because he doesn't see the point in separating the two any longer, even if he can practically hear heimendinger's tutting about his work-life balance in his ear. it will be closer to the vendors, less of a hike to acquire what he'll need to start fresh. first a new brace for his leg and back, then some basic experiments into lunar energy to get a feel for it.

his lungs flare and burn, minor enough he manages to swallow it down without reaching for the rag in his pocket. he makes a note of the severity and timing, adds it to his growing mental list that seems to indicate his illness does indeed remain but is diminished. promising, if he's being optimistic, but at the moment he feels only a sense of irritation that now he doesn't know the timeline of his own life. one he might be shortening drastically with this ridiculous stunt.

a sigh and viktor goes back to watching the boats, trying to clear his head. he considers trying to message vi and ask her opinion of this but... no, he doubts he'll get anything. he's not sure if he disgusts her as a class traitor or amuses her in truth. better to just see for himself what he's gotten himself into like a fool.]

allen - willful machine, early april

[the 'grand tour' doesn't amount to much yet, the lab area just a large, empty space dotted with a few tables and a couple of desks, not even a chalkboard he's been keeping an eye out for or something that could do the same. one of the desks at least is littered with junk, at the moment tools and the starts of a knee brace, a table nearby with all the scrap he's managed to grab that could be useful in the future. one corner has a cot, maybe he'll clear out whatever other small rooms the place has later for a bedroom proper. maybe not.

viktor seems satisfied with it as he gestures around, and rio has commandeered one of the tables for her own to lie across.] A solid start, I think. I like this area, this eh... Willful Machine, that is.

[he'll never admit part of it is the boats. everyone's allowed a sort of childish interest, right? they're soothing, even if they lack the motors that fascinated him.] Have a seat, if you'd like. How have you been since the tombs?

wildcard.

[as i said, feel free to ask for anything else, including other tdm prompts, i am more interested in seeing the worlds built by others for the archway prompts so i didn't include any here. my plurk is

dichotomy or you can dm me here!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Elsewhere, Palamedes snorts at his omni, maybe rolls his eyes a little, fondly. He lets that go.

In the lab, he takes a moment to shed various gray layers; the outer cloak for Weather (poncho with arm holes), the inner cloak for Sixth habit, a scarf he picked up to make it easier to avoid breathing in Lumenwood blood mist, until he's down to only one classic Sixth gray overpiece which is more or less a cardigan (purpose: pockets full of pens) and the usual grays. It is... a whole Process, please endure him fussing for a couple minutes.

He makes a second stop to pass by Rio and give her frills a little skim with his fingers, so as not to disturb her nap, and then— the table. He looks at everything with raised eyebrows as he moves to sit, lingering on the beer, the most dubious item on offer. There is - a lot of food here, for a bunsen burner meal, and Palamedes' infamously finicky appetite surely cannot finish comfort food, but it smells good and he's highly intrigued by potato wedges.

He looks up at Viktor, eyebrows still up like oho, food!]

This looks more like an entire comfort meal. You made this on that?

[The Cursed Burner, which he nods to, in case it weren't obvious. Warmer: Viktor made this for him, just because? It even has comfort in the name, good god, these fried potatoes have made him tender already.]

It looks delicious; I'll cede this one to the burner, but only out of the goodness and generosity of my heart.

[unsurprisingly the consideration for rio is something that just furthers the warm twist in his chest, less alarmingly sentimental now that he has a way forward. it's on top of the fond amusement of watching him work through his ensemble, which really, he needs to ask about the grey thing one of these days. does he just really like it? a practical purpose? force of habit.

he takes a seat himself, crutch leant against the table. any food they don't eat he'll just offer to allen or the other shounens later so it's fine- he's finicky as hell about food waste but luckily there's lots of hungry teenagers around and the bunker has an actual kitchen to save food in for later. the miracle of not living in your lab.]

Of course I did. One day we will have our lessons on the burner just to prove a point. [he answers, mostly kidding. maybe.]

I doubt you'll like the beer but it's part of the experience. [he doesn't care about beer waste, so it's fine.] Fried fish and potatoes are something I gather a lot of worlds have. A dock worker favorite back home, they'd sell them in greasy paper bags in the afternoons.

Edited 2022-04-21 19:09 (UTC)

[Once Viktor joins him, Palamedes picks up a fried potato - gingerly, so as not to burn his skinny fingers - and takes a neat little bite, to taste. Hmm! It's good, and a second bite saves him having to object to the bunsen burner cooking lesson. No, please, he can only allow it when he isn't looking.]

Just to carry around? "Street food" is new to me, unsurprisingly.

[No streets in the Sixth, etc, etc. He reaches for the beer and- does not sip it, he probably won't like it indeed, but he taps his fingers on the side of the cup while he nibbles the potato again.]

Did you have this when you were a kid? [Little Viktor, wandering the docks with his greasy snacks; cute.] I like this. What's this other part; fish?

[Shocking no one, Sixth meat variety is limited and questionable. He'll try the fish after he spends another five minutes eating this one potato wedge.]

Ah, one day I'll make the classic 'food on a stick.' A street food favorite. [viktor answers, a little pleased expression to himself at a successful experiment- in this case fish, potatoes, oil and pal being pleased about it, but nevertheless.] Or maybe just from some of the stalls around the Willful Machine, then you can experience it on the street as well.

[he picks up his own beer, and though he's never been a fan he doesn't mind it all that much mostly do to familiarity.] Yes, not often though. It was popular enough to be on the pricy side unless you were getting the day old remnants when the stall was closing up.

And yes, fish. The 'local catch,' which I admit I have no idea exactly what it was. [promising! but probably fine. they only all came from that ocean after all.] Dare I ask what meats the Sixth had access to?

Very portable; I'm already enthralled. Think of the multitasking a person could get done with sticked food on hand. Or in hand, as it were.

[Haha; yes, sounds great, the more portable the street food the better, he's into it. It is at this point he moves on to trying the fish, equally gingerly but this time because it's really a mystery fish, huh? It's not a squid... he hopes...]

We have nothing worth being called pricy, which I can only assume, considering I've never seen the livestock source that winds up in the Sixth kitchens. I used to try and back-engineer meat cutlets to see how much of it was artificial, but I'd get told to stop playing with my food.

[Fun stuff. Fish verdict: mysteriously tasty, and he nods over another tidy bite.]

Well; I like it. Time well spent. What else have you been up to today?

["how was your day, dear" and other domestic inquiries]

[a wholehearted nod of agreement there, if only all food were as efficient as the superior food on a stick. the reverse engineering is what gets him to laugh though, sitting back and finally picking at a piece of his own probably not squid fish.]

A shame we can't get a sample to put the mystery to rest once and for all. Ah well, keep an eye on those portals, I suppose. [gesture at the people until they offer the cutlet, that's the sort of important business one would have with the barest glimpse into their own world.

ah, but now would be the time. he regards his meal for a moment, dropping the half finished piece of fish (not bad, it probably would be better done in their kitchen but he refuses to admit as much outloud) and looks to pal. there's a moment of calculation before his expression softens, giving up almost immediately on finding some efficient and concise way to say what he wants to. he'll just stumble no matter what, he knows it.]

I admit I had... I would not call them ulterior motives for this meal, just motives. I wished to inform you about a development that eh... that involves you to a degree. Specifically that I think I have developed romantic feelings for you and- that is something we should discuss, given our living situation.

[he sounds perfectly calm about it even if the tips of his ears go pink just to spite him. well... there it is. he thinks a romance novel character would do it much better but ah well.]

That's almost a responsible use of the portals, but I've always wanted to know.

[Perhaps his mother could shotput toss a plate of Sixth Meat at him from across time and space; that would be something. It'd be more than he's seen of her in a while, regardless of silly meat antics.

And then- ah. It's not every day that one gets confessed to so casually over greasy street food? Particularly not if one is also Palamedes, who has only twice bothered to dip into feelings of this sort for anyone, which- well, his success rate has just skyrocketed, he supposes. It takes him a moment, ironically, distracted by Viktor's pink ears and just-motives, a charming little turn of phrase, but—]

I would say there are some degrees of involvement in that, yeah, [he says, and then sort of jumbles a laugh with a bracing inhale and coughs, and puts his fish piece down to cover his mouth with the back of his hand, and good god, he's disastrous. He is, however, smiling. Oh! Oh.

Okay. He is informed. Alright. One moment to collect himself after the initial moment of surprise (is he giddy? embarrassing), then,]

I didn't think— hold on, let me itemize this. [He will hold up fingers, helpfully.] First, don't ever worry about our living situation unless you want to leave; I want you there.

[That point stands no matter the new developments, so far. Next point,]

Second, I think you're amazing. Third, I have feelings for you, too, so forgive me if I'm too wired now to finish the meal.

[Appetite, while his heartbeat goes swiftly out of control? Impossible. It's a good lack of appetite, to be sure, but the adrenaline rush of Viktor having feelings for him is, ah - all time. Anyway, there's conversation to be had here, and yet: go for broke.]

Fourth, I'd be happy to discuss, you know me, but do you want to go on a date?

[the meat would be a consolation prize if viktor missed a) seeing the sixth, b) seeing pal's mysterious mother and c) seeing pal's mysterious mother frisbee some questionable meat over. the best use of the portals he can think of, and it is at least better than the many that simply spewed monsters and, on one memorable occasion, a live frag grenande.

but shockingly he is not focusing on anything other than pal's reaction at the moment. as much as he wants to duck his head he's an observer at heart, can't help but watch for some sign of rejection or acceptance as it happens in real time.

the laugh/cough he can't really read, that could mean many things. the smiling? that makes some traitorous part of viktor's chest start to hope, because it doesn't seem like an awkward smile, or a strained one. the itemized list suggestion gets a short nod, fingers fidgeting against the table as he tries to keep from outright tapping it. rio lets out a breathy little snore.

his shoulders ease a touch with point one- that is... good. he had wondered, even if pal accepted his feelings it might be considered a bit much to live together, at least from piltover standards so who knew how the sixth handled things. so good, he's not back on the cot.

the second point is where said traitorous hope starts to feel a little less traitorous and a little more ripe with potential. the third point proves as much and he can't help letting out a rattling breath, relieved amusement around the edges. oh.]

Oh. [funnily enough he didn't really consider what happened if his confession was met with acceptance. it was just a nebulous 'that would be nice' against the forefront of preparing for the worst case scenarios. this time his amusement comes in a laugh, a helpless one, finally ducking his head to just take a moment. oh, it really was that easy. vulnerability met with acceptance and reward, that sort of thing.] I... really didn't think it would be that easy? Somehow I was expecting to have to argue my case, I'm not sure why-

[yeah it feels a little silly now. he glances up again with an open, warm smile.] Yes Palamedes, I would very much enjoy going on a date with you. In fact I think there is very little I would like more.

[Oh, and it's an achingly long few seconds, watching Viktor fumble his way through reacting to a confession just the same as he's just done, and Palamedes commits the curve of his smile and the relieved timbre of his voice to memory in an instant. Trench could chew him up and spit him out and all sorts of terrible things but he would remember this moment, Viktor ducking his head and then smiling at him like that, and it would remind him what it is to be happy.

Incredibly gooey, and he'll get there with bells on sooner or later, but first— dating. He glances down at the table, raising an eyebrow.]

Is this a date? [Can it be, now? He'll take Viktor anywhere date-like he wants to go, easily, but they are here, enjoying a private meal. It feels like it could be a date, with the proper acknowledgement.

Still, he's suddenly even more restless than usual, unable to pin down his focus in the wake of Viktor's affections. It tilts the world a little on its axis in a way that is both disorienting and wonderful, adding a glimmer to otherwise ordinary moments— they're eating bunsen burner dinner, and Viktor has feelings for him; he's going to hate this beer, and his feelings are returned; Rio is blissfully sleeping through the full scope of their ridiculous back and forth and Viktor likes him, oh oh oh, he's going to pop at any moment—]

Well— at the risk of walking right into it by saying 'of course it would be easy,' like I said: you're amazing. What I feel about you is— to put it in scientific terms, I'm crazy about you.

[He leans forward, elbows on the table, to reach over and cover Viktor's hand with his in a loose gesture, but one that pointedly muddles their fingers together. It feels like the moment but it also feels irrevocably bold (just like in his romance novels), particularly while further interrupting dinner. There's a beat where he simply holds Viktor's gaze along with his hand, and then he says,]

But if you wanted to argue your case, I would absolutely hear it.

[It's a date activity? Formal case arguments... he might swoon.]

That... hm, I suppose that rather was the intention of it. [viktor admits, a little sheepish. the idea of just going up to pal and confessing empty handed certainly didn't feel right, and he's not so romantically illiterate to not realize a painstakingly homecooked meal is very much date material.] Or maybe it needs a candle? That does seem to be a deciding factor on the eh... the romantic atmosphere of a meal.

[he's torn between embarrassment and humor, the entire scope of this shift in dynamic still settling across him. he's torn between assessment of his own reactions and watching how it lights pals his face and- ugh, when the man smiles his eyes are truly unfair. criminal, how was he meant to stand stalwart against it? especially when he takes viktor's hand and their fingers can intertwine without and of the muddled second guessing he would have a day before, a week before.]

I can make an itemized list, if you would like. [his typical dry humor is lost a little on how he can't keep a certain embarrassing giddiness out of tone, one he has to clear his throat to try and chase away, back to the bright thumping of his heart.] One, I am a better cook than you and have an excellent memory for preference, so soon enough I will be able to offer an good, approved variety of potential menus for dates such as this.

Two- [he taps a finger against pal's hand, leaning in a little himself and all his hard work pushed to the side to be ignored for now.] - I excel at mechanical work and general construction, so I will be able to offer you as many bookshelves as you may like for the endless amount of notebooks you seem to accrue. And three-

[his gaze softens a touch, and with his vulnerabilities and sentimentalities so routinely accepted and even rewarded it's shockingly easy to say,] I find your smile a marvelous thing and will go to great lengths to see it. I want very much to make you happy, should we pursue this. It's something I would strive for because you... you are a remarkable person.

[A candle would be... a fun touch? Very novel-esque, to be sure, and Palamedes can't pretend he wouldn't be enamored by the gesture even if it felt kind of silly. He nods, seriously, like yes: a candle, next time. Maybe The Red has a fancy restaurant portion with candles included?]

Let's call it retroactively, so I'll likewise revise my question, and ask you on a second date.

[With a grin, one that softens into an easy fondness once Viktor starts his very own itemized list; ooh, sir, this is precisely what he wanted. He squeezes Viktor's hand gently in genuine amusement at being the worse cook - sorry, this is part and parcel of being with him, please look forward to more of it in the future.

It's a good list. It makes him chuckle and scoff in turns, looking over his shoulder at the bag of brand new notebooks he's already come to the lab with just today, and the grand finale sets a warmth to blooming in his chest that he hopes will be as tender as this every time. From now on.]

If I could offer some feedback, [he says, voice low and soft even as he must compulsively stay in the bit.] To your first point, you are far too attached to the bunsen burner; it's pathological. Second— no, actually; this one is approved wholeheartedly.

[He leans in a bit more, close enough that he can look at Viktor over the rim of his glasses and still see him clearly; hello.]

Your third point— sounds like the beginning of a fascinating project. The subject seems interesting. [he's never had an ego in his life] Earnestly: I'm ready to pursue this if you are.

[Viktor already makes him happy in so many ways, it feels too basic just to say that, so he says,] It doesn't have to be perfect, but I want it to be you.

Hm, I think my answer remains the same. I will slot room in my busy schedule for you. [sort of a joke, though he can't say his schedule hasn't gotten somewhat packed with so many ideas to work through. still, given he sees pal each evening regardless yes, he thinks they'll find time.

the comment about the bunsen burner gets a scoff, ruined because he can't seem to stop smiling like a fool. even when he tries to squash it for the all important bit it creeps back up on him.] It is innovative, you mean. I suppose for the sake of your narrow mindedness in the matter I will stick to using the kitchen in the bunker for meals. I ah- I wanted to make it here so you could easily retreat if you felt uncomfortable.

[maybe he prefers the kitchen. maybe. with only a beat of hesitation he reaches up, a gentle adjustment to pal's glasses before he puts a palm to pal's jaw, not unlike what pal did when he was struggling with the tether. he's careful, still not sure what is allowed, what is too much, a thumb stroking pal's cheek like he's a precious thing indeed before he lets his hand drop.

clears his throat again. hm.] I am ready- though this is not a matter I have any experience with. I did not do romance or eh... 'crushes' even. I don't know what the proper procedure and timeline are.

So I would appreciate direction when you feel the experiment is going off course, so to speak. [such a dumb bit, but he's enjoying it immensely.]

[Oh boy, a second date - possibly a second date where Palamedes and his narrow-mindedness (that one gets a scoff) harangue Viktor into spending the whole night in, with kitchen-made food and the tiny couch — so like plenty of their evenings before now, but ah, different? With a different door opened to the easy comfort of mutual affection.

The admission that they're here in the lab because Viktor feared Palamedes might abruptly want to go makes his throat sting, Viktor's timing so perfect with the touch against his face (and his glasses, which is the single most endearing thing anyone's ever done for him, he thinks) that he can't help but lean into it and miss it terribly when it goes away. He wants to take that insecurity and wrap it up and throw it away forever, but- baby steps.

Viktor is sweet; he'll start there.]

Everything I know, I learned from novels, [he admits with a brief quirk of a grin, so very self-aware that melodramatic romance novels are a bad source.] And I absolutely don't know anything about timelines, or procedures. I've never been on a date until just now.

[Novel! They can figure it out together. They can even keep the bit going for as long as it's still funny, which it definitely is right now. He hums, thinking about it; honestly, he could spend the next hour or two looking at Viktor and marveling at all this, and he would enjoy it very much.

But. Also. He bites the inside of his cheek, debating for a whole two seconds before offering,]

I've never been kissed before, either.

[that way pal leans into his hand quells any concerns he has about whether the touch was welcome, which is a relief because he thinks he's going to have a hard time not giving in to the urge in passing. that fact that their evenings can now contain such casual contact makes him fight back another foolish sort of smile.

as for the news he's a touch surprised though a moment of thought about the sixth and consanguinity problems makes it obvious there might not have been much of a selection in terms of dating. he bites back a few questions (for now), though he can't help a little eye widening at never being kissed before.]

Never? [that seems a grave injustice somehow, lonely in a way for a man who seems to have such a romantic heart, though viktor's hardly going to complain to have the chance to rectify that. which is an area he's a touch less nervous about, easier than words and the dissection of feelings, even if the first date jitters still give it all a gravity and joy he's not entirely sure how to process.]

In truth I think I prefer it this way, that we'll figure it out together. Frankly? Social decorum is incredibly tedious anyway. I think I've been tired of the script of it for as long as I can remember.

[he glances to their hands then back up, voice softer when he asks,] Can I kiss you then?

[Palamedes shrugs— never, indeed. It's not bothered him really... ever? Fast tracking himself all the way to Master Warden at thirteen came with its own heap of social weirdness which in time turned into social not-having-any-time and not-really-looking-locally. He still appreciates Viktor's apparent surprise, and his sudden complaint about decorum— truly, nothing is more attractive than a man being sick of following the script.

Like, actually. Palamedes could listen to this for an hour or two, too.]

Hmm— the glorious return of the work-in-progress. [hah,] I like that; you really are something, you know. Number one in your field, not that that comes as a surprise.

[But ah, there it is, and despite having dropped the hint a moment ago the question still makes his heart skip a beat. His prior-to-now lack of kissing has never been for lack of interest, either, and so—hell yes? Hell yes.

He squeezes Viktor's hand again and tilts closer, helpfully remembering to murmur (and with dinner entirely forgotten, at this point, terribly sorry to Viktor's effort, but hey: it worked),] Yes. Of course. I want you to.

I do strive to be the pinnacle of those fed-up with the minutiae of socializing. It's a steep competition, of course. [their beer has definitely started to go flat by now, not to mention the lukewarm meal. somehow the idea of just sitting like this, murmuring quietly to each other and just having it at home later cold sounds a little like a perfect evening.

well, almost perfect. he has permission to really step up just how lovely the evening has already been.

kissing is an odd ground for him, one he has experience in but purely in heat of the moment, quick, fumbling one night stand kind of way. not the kissing of a first date, but he thinks he can apply the technical knowledge with the filter of how much he wants pal in a way he isn't used to. gently, wholly, walls down and terribly vulnerable sort of way among others.

so he cups pal's jaw again, tilting pal's head so he can slot their lips together in a far less tentative press than his initial touches had been. this he can be sure of, this is a way he can show his feelings a little more gracefully, even if it's through the clumsy instrument of the body.

it's a firm kiss in that way, one that gives pal time to process the simplicity of it, perpetually chapped lips from never drinking enough water and the curl of that smile that won't quite leave his face.

the smile's there when he pulls back enough to look at pal again, accent thick when he says,] We'll need more data but... I would say a successful first run so far.

Obviously, you're very talented. You can tell me more about it later.

[Something to look forward to: more ranting about how rich people parties are boring and full of snakes, actually; Palamedes will enjoy this, assuming they ever get there (with their cold dinner). Instead there's Viktor's hand against his jaw again, commanding all of his attention through proximity and sheer directness; Ah, he thinks, and then he doesn't manage to finish the thought.

Well, he has nothing to compare it to, indeed, but gone is the gentle insecurity of touching him, and that is a powerful force to be reckoned with. To say that Palamedes goes a little weak in an instant for Viktor, confident kisser is an understatement; he remembers to do something, free hand wandering blindly up to the nape of Viktor's neck, steadying almost as he presses into the kiss.

It's a good kiss, he decides; his best one ever, if he wants to be funny. It's an easy kiss, firm and sweet, and when it's over he purses his lips, head canted to one side, evaluating—]

I'm inclined to agree, on both counts. We can't possibly chart a single data point just out there on its own. [ack. he scoffs lightly, then,] Good god, would you listen to us?

[The biggest nerds on this side of the sea, to be certain. Never mind it, anyway, as nothing could stop Palamedes from leaning in to kiss him a second time, softer but somehow intent, as if he plans on determining every way it's possible to kiss Viktor, sooner or later.

That's two. Could get a whole line graph going.]

[that comment gets a snort of a laugh, one that echoes in his smile into the next kiss. he has plenty to say about how being unbearable with the bit is part of what makes it delightful, the more annoying the better, but that is time he wouldn't be kissing pal which really. that would be a shame.

he's learning a bit himself here, if he's honest, the softer shape of things, the lack of urgency. how he seems as eager to uncover as ever, a trait viktor still finds endlessly endearing and admirable. when he deepens the kiss it's with a tilt of his own head, unconsciously licking his own lips when he makes himself pull back again.]

I admit, I've already lost the train of our conversation. [whoops. he lifts their joined hands to kiss pal's knuckles, as if an apology for having to be rational.] Allen does have a key here too, we might ah... I would rather continue this line of thought at home in case he decided to come by.

['at home' still does something to him, which is sort of par for the course since they've met he's found. a glance to their food and he can't help but snort,] I put so much time into this too. I am not complaining, mind you.

[The bit certainly provides; there are half a dozen other data-collection innuendos to be made here alone, each one more unbearable than the last. Palamedes will keep them in mind for later, when he's able to properly focus on things other than Viktor's mouth on his, tender heat and faintly electric. The romance novels weren't lying about kissing, he decides— he's a huge fan.

It takes a monumental amount of self control to sit back a fraction and not follow him into a third kiss, and maybe a fourth, and— he's focused. He's got it. He laughs quietly, made all the more airy and light by Viktor kissing his hand like a real, proper romance novel gentleman. Ah. He sits back properly with some earnest difficulty, lingering a moment to tug Viktor's shirt collar as he draws back his hand. Hm; conversation, yes.]

I was asking you what you did today, I think, [he says and then looks thoughtful, deeply weighing the pros and cons of going home vs. eating the meal Viktor made and then going home, ahem. Salient point about the comparative privacy of home, indeed-] I don't want to waste your effort, here...

[Should he eat another potato. He makes a show of picking one up and taking a bite; see, he's capable of thinking of things other than Viktor and kissing and kissing Viktor, but only just.]

Do you want to go home? You're my only plan for the rest of the day.

[honestly the idea of sitting around eating the meal like normal seems a little laughable now- the handholding is a nice, exciting touch but otherwise? he appreciates the restless energy that says movement would be preferable.

as if sensing his answer before he says it rio blinks awake and hops off the cot with a little wiggle. viktor eyes the meal for a moment before saying,] We can bring it home with us, yes? Effort only mildly wasted. As long as the food itself isn't I do not mind.

[he just wants privacy, which he supposes has some pointed connotations now even if his main goal 'explore pal's mouth thoroughly by the end of the day.' he's not sure if it's embarrassing or not that's a primary goal in his life long after the more age appropriate eras to be fixated on such things, but hell.

he stands as if to finalize the decision, a soft squeeze to pal's hand before letting it go so he can grab his crutch and look for something to cover the dishes in. fantasy bloodborne tupperware needs to go on the more domestic list. rio plods over to bump her head into pal in belated greeting and viktor's still smiling damnit.]

What I did today, besides this and planning for this? Hm. Wondered if I am grateful we'll soon be free of these butterflies or if I'm wary of whatever new nonsense will no doubt be upon us. Mostly the planning though. I decided against a script at least, thank gods.

[Oh good, they are simpatico. There'd be no harm in sitting here and finishing a meal as normal, but there is a unique little thrill in being wanted enough to end the meal early and go home together. Palamedes scoffs at "mildly wasted" and pops the rest of this other potato piece in his mouth, just in time for Rio to come and say hello. He stands, but immediately stoops down to mumble some hellos to Rio and give her some much-deserved frill-pats.]

You know saying that to me is only going to make me ask, [he says, looking up at Viktor with a raised eyebrow. Yes, what was in the script, was it cute—] When the sun comes out again, you'll have your work cut out for you, to convince me to go outside.

[Sunshine... wary. With Rio sufficiently petted Palamedes straightens up, shuffling over to his things to put his handful of gray layers back on, then thumbs through his new notebooks to pick out just a few, which he tucks under his arm. The rest can stay here; and ah, he's amused at their own... carrying on, like this? Briskly tidying up to go home and kiss each other senseless, because that is the plan, he's there— it's... a brand.

It's a good brand. He slides the rest of the notebooks in the bag out of the way and returns to Viktor and the table, bright-eyed and intent. He tips one of the cups of terminally flat beer a little, to frown at it, and when he turns to look at Viktor he can't resist catching him under the chin with a light touch and darting in to press a kiss against his cheek. He's helping.]

Sorry— my last public lab infraction, I swear. What can I carry?

You may have to live with the agony of never knowing, I am not sure I should give you that much ammunition yet. [viktor informs him, even as his chest does that stupid patter to see pal with rio. he has to turn back putting away what needs putting away, glad he didn't actually write notes when figuring all this confession business out. he was tempted but that is something he'd never live down and rightfully so.

he decides on just putting meal in a paperbag, glancing up and snorting when he sees pal pulling some notebooks out of his bag. the look he gives is a very knowing one, too fond but he fears that's just how things have been and will be. ] Eh, we can stay nocturnal. Besides, you are not that difficult to convince, I think. No offense. [calling him a pushover in this regard, rude. to be fair so is he so.

well a shame about the beer, kind of. viktor reaches for one of the cups when pal comes in for another kiss, just against his cheek and it's such a sweet little gesture viktor has to fight not to duck his head. pal's going to be the death of him, the way he looks so pleased about this new development between them, even the little frown at the beer.

he resists the urge to kiss him again, grabbing the cup he meant to and moving to dump it down the sink.] Bring the other cup over? And if you don't mind grabbing my notes over there I can manage the food. [he tilts his head towards a notebook open on one of the tables, all laser schematics mostly because he's sick of not being able to weld things properly more than anything.]

[Palamedes tuts, shaking his head. He deserves that ammunition, he thinks, especially if Viktor is going to call him a pushover like that. Can a man not do anything another man asks him to do in peace? Viktor isn't wrong, so— well!]

You've figured me out; I can't help myself when it's you.

[He'd wink, in the spirit of it, but he's so buoyed by fondness and affection right now that it wouldn't carry the same traditional sass, so he only grins. As long as Viktor is standing right there looking at him, he finds himself completely unwilling to move; just standing there thinking about kissing him again and only freed when Viktor goes to dump the beer into the sink.

Ah, yes - he picks up the other cup and sets it by the sink as he passes on his way to the notes, which, oho, let him get his eyeballs on these-

Hmm. Indeed, he knows nothing about lasers, but it looks very cool and technical. He flips a page, more or less just admiring Viktor's drawings and pretending he can make sense of any of the terms. He knows what a laser is, that's a start.]

How is this going?

[well there he goes, being sweet again. viktor's really the pushover here because he can't help but reward that with said ammunition.] One of my thoughts that was quickly discarded as a ridiculous idea was a pros and cons list. A very romantic discussion on the fleeting nature of the Trench and the use of companionship as an aid to keeping corruption low.

[which thank god he just decided to shoot from the hip, as it were. admittedly he thinks it's an interesting discussion but maybe not the kind that inspires the sort of atmosphere desired. then again pal answered him with an itemized list, so maybe they're just odd ducks.

the cups get rinsed and put to the side, viktor grabbing the bag with their now lukewarm meal and coming over, letting their arms brush since one hand is busy with the bag and the other with his crutch. otherwise he'd probably have to touch him, a hand on his lower back.]

Well, lunar energy is fascinating, flexible and renewable in a way that would make my world weep. [he answers with a small shrug.] I should have a working prototype out by the beginning of the new month, if you'd like to see it. It will certainly make building your shelves easier.

Hmm, the inherent romance in existential logistics, that always gets me going. [maybe a joke? who can say.] I'm sure you've got fascinating points— not that I need to be convinced.

[That Viktor has points is the draw— no. Well, kind of. He's already smitten; he's only going to be in deeper with each pseudo-philosophical conversation, including that almost-downer one about legacy.

Their arms brush and Palamedes leans in automatically for just a moment, an affectionate press of arm-to-arm while he keeps flipping pages. They do need to, like, go home - but a detour to talk about lasers is a good use of time, actually.]

I would like to see it. I would also like to try it out, if you'll help me to not burn my fingers off.

[Can he shoot an apple or something, what is the done thing? He certainly shouldn't be allowed near these shelves or he'll melt them wrong, but still.]

I've got one of those orbs in the works for you, by the way. I spoke to someone in the marketplace; they'll be sourcing me a bigger one than the smaller, decorative types. [so he doesn't have to steal one off a lamppost, ahem.] Should be soon.

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