ximilia | text ↪ un: torontonian

[You take what you can get, Cain can't be picky!! Blame the old school medic Cy will mysteriously never meet.]

You ever been in space before? [Bites his tongue on C-man, undecided on whether that is better or worse than honey.] This is all pretty familiar, just... fancier. And we get access to most of it. Did you get your own room?

[A curious lift of his head as they start walking the circle, because he's only stayed in the infirmary so far. Privacy like that just seems unlikely.]

Been in space a lot.

（ like. u know. on his own. without a spaceship. for a while.

it's fun if you ignore that it's also shitty.

cy falls into step beside him, sort of schlepping along. there's an uncanny grace to how he moves that doesn't quite scan human but also doesn't strongly scan as anything else. maybe he did ballet in a former life, who knows. ）

And yeah, private room. Mostly because I'm not going to inflict my utter inability to clean up after myself on anyone else. I've had roommates. That way leads danger.

[He's starting to pick up on the fact that this guy says a lot without actually saying... anything. It would bother Cain, if he wasn't also less than keen on divulging information about himself. So they'll be continuing this awkward volleying of shallow conversation.

Probably, he shouldn't have let a total stranger teleport to him. Mistakes were made.]

Lucky. [Cain has learned to be tidy only as a result of owning next to nothing during his enlistment. Military rules.] I'd rather have the privacy too, but I dunno if they'll give me my own room.

[He sticks his head into the training room once they reach it, surveying, but he makes no move to go in. What's the point? He can't do anything in here yet.]

Don't ask, just take one. There's plenty of 'em. I don't think anybody cares, this isn't exactly military installation 101.

（ he doesn't give the kid a sideways glance. no tells, no obvious signs. but he's got that feeling again, and after a long moment he pats down his hideous hawaiian shirt for his own pack of cigarettes that are definitely rumpled and maybe look like they've been through the wash or something.

why was he bumming a hit earlier? because he's Just Like That.

unlike cain, he does step into the training room. not to actually use any of the shit, because haha, haha, no. but just: ）

Man, they really worked hard to make this as unsexy as possible, didn't they? Woof.

... Just take one. [Half under his breath, like he's reflecting upon his own rule-following habits for the first time.] Sure. I'll do that.

[When the pack of cigarettes appears in Cy's hands from one of his pockets, he... stares.

Dude. Really? Are you serious?]

Looks normal to me. What were you expecting? [Cain hangs in the doorway, narrow eyed.] If you wanna test out your magic here, probably a good place to do it. Or is it just the one trick?

（ he hears that hamster wheel turning, and when the kid arrives at the proper conclusion (just take one!!) he grins a bit. mostly to himself, as he sweeps his arms out at the room. ）

I was hoping for something that I could misappropriate in kinky ways. Like, I don't know, a sexy saw horse or something? I would've settled for some handcuffs, damn.

（ let him live, he wanted a dungeon. ）

But nah, got a few tricks. Believe you me, I ain't gotta test 'em out though. I'm a lover, not a fighter. Tell you what, the going gets rough I'll hide behind you.

（ he turns back to face cain, winking broadly in a way that makes the double entendre impossible to miss. because he absolutely cannot be normal about anything, ever. ）

[Another swing in the dark, but this one doesn't miss, because insinuation—or in this case a very transparent statement—successfully slashes a grin across his face. He leans, stubs out the remainder of his cigarette on the underside of a boot, then tucks it in his pocket before walking into the room.]

Training is for combat here, not sex. Not that I don't like the fantasy. [A sexy saw horse? He has no idea what that is, but handcuffs are a common, worlds-defying staple, so he can run the premise to its conclusion.] You're gonna have to get that somewhere else. Maybe the simulation room? But then the fucking isn't real.

[Cain's mind wanders, because now he's curious if anyone has ever tried that before, back in the Alliance. A curious, horny technician could do it easy.]

Sure, I'll protect you. [Weight leaning to one side with his arms crossed, Cain looks confident.] But you're a pretty big guy, I think they'll see you right behind me. And I don't have any of that fancy magic stuff. All I've got are guns, knives, and fists. And maybe some handcuffs.

Nah, man, the fucking's plenty real in the sim room （ maybe don't ask him how he knows that.

or do.

i mean. it's your life!! ） it's just the surroundings that aren't real.

（ he's seen so much weird scifi bullshit in his day that the idea of hard light constructs in a controlled simulation environment barely raise an eyebrow. they've got an entire sunlight room that is apparently much bigger on the inside than its external measurements suggest, and the engineer in him has been going fucking wild trying to parse that one. he does hate it when things don't live up to the three laws in an easily digestible fashion.

cain's furtherance of that discussion gets a laugh, and cy gives him a very meaningful once over. ）

I'm sure you're big enough where it counts, my guy. （ a playful nudge to one shoulder. ） And honestly, never sell the value of a good set of cuffs short. It's wild what you can get up to in 'em.

[??? sir how do you know this

He'll have to take Cy's word, unless he happens upon a chance to test it out for himself. Which... it seems that this guy is flirting with him, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't interested—dark eyes lingering longer than polite on the definition of muscle—but the thought hiccups, gets stuck like a rock in his throat on the next swallow. Fuck, when did he get so sentimental?]

Yeah, I bet. [A nudge back, playful even as he whips away in the next moment, back toward the door. Hot and cold.] Maybe I'll think about cuffs when I can bend over without wanting to puke. Ugh. You ever been shot before?

（ two paths, yellow wood, etc etc. cy huffs a breath, and gives his retreating back a calculating look.

it's not like he's really gone out of his way to keep a lid on things. there's hell and gone weirder shit here than someone who regenerates. he's already given cain a ballpark of his age, so he doesn't even really need to cop to the rest. instead, his attention flickers downward to the source of that pain, and his face is briefly taut in a moue of sympathy. the frailty of humans, ladies and gents.

in what is, resoundingly, the first serious-sounding thing he's said for the entire dick-kick of this conversation: ）

Yeah. It sucks, I'm sorry. （ he leaves it at that for a moment, and then draws an exaggerated breath and dives right back into that lighter tone. ） For what it's worth I've seen like, six million people so far on the network bragging about magical healing, maybe one of them can help out? Not in my grab bag of goodies, unforch.

[Cain looks over, caught by the tone. The glimmer of a difference in demeanor—and the quick transition back.]

I wasn't looking at the network much. [Mouth tugging, halfway to a smirk.] Except for your stupid post. Dunno why it was the first one I saw. But I'll try to find someone, 'cause I don't want to go out like this on the next mission.

You coming? I'm hungry.

[He walks out the door, leaving Cy and his ugly hawaiian shirt to keep up.]

Okay, first of all, I think you mean amazing post. Secondly — want me to ask for you?

（ look, he is... shameless, immune to fucks, and sometimes it's just easier to have somebody else do these things for you. vulnerability's a bitch.

in answer to that second piece, he sort of jogs to keep up. he's a lanky bitch, so the distance closes quick. he falls into step beside the guy and on they march. for food, and the glory of rome. or something?? ）

You wanna help out some guy you barely know that bad?

[Cain glances sideways, casual, hands tucking into the pockets of the dark hoodie he's wearing as they walk.]

Sure, whatever. Be my guest. [Cy is friendly, and helpful—and maybe he's taking advantage of that now. Any guilt elicited is pressed down, because it's a matter of reality. Nothing's changed.] Just make sure they're not... weird about it. If they want money or something, fine, but I don't have much right now so they're gonna have to deal with that.

I was reading up on the other missions. Seems like 'teamwork's' the name of the game. Why not kick it off here? It's not like I've got better shit to do.

（ 'weird about it'. yeah, he fuckin' bets. he laces his fingers behind his head as he walks, which ruffles his hair into a fluffy halo. somebody forgot to stock a decent fucking hair product in this joint, no cap. and he is the one suffering for it. his vanity! someone think of his vanity pls. ）

I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want to charge anybody for healing in a place like this. Seems like a great way to have your front liners say 'fuck you' when you get your l'il medical panties in a twist later on.

[Teamwork. He's not wrong. Cain knows that too, it's just—he can't help it, he doesn't trust anyone else. What if he's tasked to turn around and stab someone in the back, or someone else is supposed to do it to him? His experience so far proves the chance. And 'transactional relationships' are one of the truest tenets of the military, or at least his experience of the military.

He watches Cy mess with his hair, which would almost be cute if not for the preoccupation of his thoughts.]

... All right. You ask someone who says they'll do it and I'll go to 'em. [They've completed the circle back around, finding themselves near the armory and sunlight room. Cain's brow furrows.] How do you get to the kitchen from here? Are they just gonna let us in?

Tally ho, my good friend.

（ he gestures towards the sunlight room doors. which he then graciously hits the door panel to open, standing aside with an expansive bow to indicate that cain should precede him thither. ）

You gotta cut through here. This place was not designed by a civil engineer lemme tell ya h'wat.

（ who puts tech storage right next to food!! that is against like, three different regulations off the top of his head, man. ）

[That earns an amused snicker despite himself, but he has to admit it isn't too terrible strolling through simulated nature to the cafeteria. The influence of sunlight is palpable; his posture loses an edge of stiffness, shoulders down as he ducks in and ahead.]

What did I say? We aren't friends. [His smile blunts the landing.] You're just my magical tour guide right now. Tall, handsome, could use a hairbrush, likes to talk a whole lot of nothing...

[Horny might be another worthy descriptor, but he keeps it to himself for now. Don't throw stones in glass houses.]

Yet. But I know from long experience that my charming demeanour renders all and sundry weak to my animal magnetism.

（ but, you know, he's not going to argue with that whole lot of nothing. he's more just surprised that somebody picked up on it so fast. always gotta watch the clever ones. not smart, clever. the ones who've had to be mindful of others, their moods, their behaviours, their attitudes, just to survive. they're the ones that'll eat you alive.

he kicks a rock off the path. it's weird, how real it feels. then, iantha's dreamscapes were always just the same. ）

Sooner or later we'll have matching BFF necklaces and we'll be gossiping over boys together while we paint each other's nails. I know the score, Cee.

[Cain rolls his eyes for emphasis. Across a wooden bridge on the path, he shoves Cy's shoulder to push him off, into the grass. It's almost companionable, or physical for the sake of something physical—a language he communicates better than words.]

In your dreams. I'm not that easy. [Just selective.] Hold on, you said you don't fight? Why not? 'Cause with what you can do with magic, even just the trans-whatever, that's a huge waste.

[He can dream up too many scenarios where that sort of power would have changed his life. Uprooted everything, gave back control where it was taken away. No one would've been able to touch him. A silly fantasy of superpowers that little boys have, not grown men; he'd stopped a long time ago.]

（ he goes easy, unresisting. half a jog by the time he gets to the grass. even knowing it's an illusion, the sensation of give beneath his soles is a nice change of pace, and he just meanders his casual way back to the path with his hands tucked into his pockets. even the air smells fresh and green. wild shit. ）

Oh, I'm a massive coward. Just toootally spineless. Somebody pulls a gun on me I'll probably faint.

Wait, seriously?

[It's not that Cain doesn't believe him, but... who just says it like that? No one in their right mind admits to being a coward. It's not an admirable trait to have in a scenario where you're meant to rely on your teammate. Then again—the blunt honesty could be helpful. It won't be a surprise when it matters.

He did say that he'd been shot. Residual trauma?]

Probably don't wanna tell people that. Could just say you don't like guns or something.

Guns. Knives. Especially large needles. Big dogs. Small dogs. Just like, really anti-pain in general. If I stub my toe I will wail like a Victorian widow, you've been warned.

（ this is all just said. so lackadaisically. he steps back onto the path with a bit of an oof as his shoe hits the cobbled walkway. ）

Hopefully I won't be a total waste of oxygen out on mission. Maybe I can be the sexy, sneaky one? I'll honeypot a motherfucker, see if I care.

[He stares now, incredulity in the look, though eventually it slides off and focuses on the path ahead.]

I mean, it's not all gonna be about fighting. Probably. I can't do half the shit some people can. [Everyone has something they're good at, even if it isn't combat, Cain thinks.] Guess that's why they wanted you here. To look pretty for our morale.

Awh, CeCe, you think I'm pretty?

（ he leans down and in just a smidge, and bumps his shoulder into cain's. gently, mindful of that guarded side. ）

I guess if I can bring your （ the world's most pointed pause. he clears his throat, and then continues effortlessly: ） morale up then it's all worth it.

[The amount of obnoxious nicknames this guy would invent if he knew his real name... it can never happen....

Against better sense and reason, as they near the exit on the other side of the room—another pair of automatic doors accessed by a panel on the wall—he makes a bad decision. It's stupid, yet Cain does it anyway in defiance of several shitty facts, the most primary among them that he's here, now, starting over again. And because he's done this for far less in the past, it feels effortless. He hasn't really changed at all.

Maybe it's just talk. Flirtation on nothing, on a thread of charisma, to make Cain more amenable to teamwork and conversation and everything good, buddy-buddy, beneficial. He'll find out in the seconds it takes to step sideways and intersect Cy's path, getting a gloved fist in the front of that ugly, patterned shirt. The difference in height is both absurd and frustrating; he realizes he's never actually tried to kiss someone taller than him, because most people aren't this fucking tall unless by deliberate fault of genetic modification. He pulls Cy down to him and lands a kiss hard on his mouth.]

text ↪ un: torontonian

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