breakaleginhalf | dataBURST: IC Inbox

Fine, I'll take them back then.

[Not that he's making any moves to step closer. In fact he's stepped back, grabbing a stray pillow that's made it into the aisle and sitting on it with his back against a display wall. There's a slight twitch of his ears as he lands on a burn, but he just shifts to get comfy.]

I almost got you knit ones, but I was thinking of your aesthetic, you punk jerk. [He snickers though, fondly more than anything else.]

Winter as a weather system fucking sucks though. It's just cold and miserable, and I'm pretty sure part of me wants to hibernate now. So if I pass out in December and don't wake up feel free to snuggle me.

Try and take them from me, and you die.

[ He warned, sliding the other one on and examining it carefully. It'd just take a couple of studs, maybe a little bit of embroidery. But since Gil didn't seem like he was going to actually pursue that, Bugsy was happy to drop it too. ]

I could rock knitted gloves, too. But thanks, man.

[ Still, that made him laugh a little, and he petted Ms Mojo on the head, to get her used to the weird new feeling. ]

Yeah, 'cold and miserable' is kinda our thing. But 's necessary. I'm just kinda like a bird, I go south the second it gets chilly. And if it gets that cold when winter actually comes around, I might fuckin' join you.

[Gil's ears finally unpress a little from his head when Bugsy laughs, and he shuffles down a bit so he can rest his head against the wall too. The cool fake plaster is a nice reprieve against his huge ears, as he smiles faintly.]

I mean if it's getting this hot already and it's barely the ass end of spring, maybe it'll actually snow in winter. [Not that Gil's sure if he's pleased with that or not. He doesn't know how his fur holds up against snow yet.] So we're both gonna be big fuckin' babies. Coda's gonna have to deal with so much sooking from us, it'll be great. Us and Ms Mojo, ultimate blanket pile.

The fuck is 'sooking'?

[ Damn Ohssies and their weird slang. ]

See, you think that sounds great, but eventually she gets all wiggly and starts pacing around on top of you. And then you just get your guts all squished and shit, because the bitch is heavy.

[ Just go for it, just go for it, just fucking say it- ]

I could probably stand to cuddle with you for a couple'a months, though. You were nice to cuddle with.

[He grins, but there's raised eyebrows too.] It's being a bitch-ass crybaby.

[And he's about to make another comment, something like 'oh, like Mojo rolling all over you is heavier than me', when Bugsy keeps talking. And Gil becomes glad his ears are pressed against the wall because it stops them from twitching back (instead, betrayal, they twitch forwards to stand attention) and he can pretend that them turning red is just the temperature change.

He lifts a hand to scruff under his chin as he tries and fails to maintain eye contact.]

Yeah, well- maybe you are too. You're not as cold to cuddle as the whole Winter deal'd make you think.

[...is that even a compliment? He's flustered shut up]

Edited 2021-05-14 12:23 (UTC)

[ Some small fluttery hope beat about in Bugsy's chest for a moment. Seeing Gil's ears stand up like that, the fact he couldn't keep eye contact... shit, maybe Gil did like him. Bugsy drew Ms Mojo closer to his chest. ]

'm fucking Amanda occasionally too, so you know. In case that's something that needs to be... I dunno, negotiated. Nothing serious.

[That makes Gil's ears perk down a bit. Not an entire mood shift, just a surprised twitch away from full attention.]

I mean, I don't even know if we're, like... [He lets go of his shopping bag and sort of gestures between him and Bugsy with both hands.] ...serious, or-- anything...? [And the next words follow hastily:] Like-- I just don't wanna force you into labels or shit when you've got your own stuff happening on the side, I seriously don't care that you are.

[Well he does a little but it's not the fucking aspect of the "fucking Amanda" he has weird feelings about.]

[ Ugh, complicated feelings. Bugsy felt his stomach writhe, and there was no way to mistake the way that his buggy tatts sought shelter under his clothes. ]

Labels are shit. But- I dunno. You don't really wanna do anything serious with me.

[ It was a question more than it was a statement. ]

You're not gonna... take me out for a fuckin... Candlelit dinner under the stars or some shit. 'm not like that. But 'f you're cool with everything, then we can change the subject.

[His ears prick down a little further as his stomach twists gently, but the look on his face otherwise is defiant.]

Don't tell me what I want, bitch.

[There's no venom there, just vague offense. Gil doesn't even know what he wants in actually dating someone, candlelit dinners were not high on his priorities.

But he'll accept Bugsy's out, and instead make the effort to take the shopping bag again and slide it across the glossy floor to the bug's nest. Yeah, they're cool.]

Got you some more clippers and shit, and all the shears for me. I tried grabbing some good brands, so just, like. Lemme know when you wanna use 'em, whenever.

[And there, is the slightest ray of hope in his voice. That maybe 'whenever' might be sooner rather than later.]

It's not like I'm wrong,

[ Bugsy grumbled, figuring that Gil was probably more pissy at the assumption than because he did want anything serious. Bugsy leaned out of the nest to pull the bag a little closer, glancing through. ]

I can make this work. You wanna wait until it grows out a little more, or just get it over and done with now?

Oh--

[Curse his fucking ears they both flick forwards again, and he actively reaches up to brush them back with both hands; it's a dual-purpose motion, though, fluffing his mane and checking the length of it through his fingers.]

I mean, I was probably gonna do it tomorrow. [Read: tonight, if Bugsy hadn't wanted to help.] I've got garbage bags and shit stored in one of the bathrooms already, only takes like a minute to set up -- but, uh. If you're up to it, we can do it now, sure.

[He's shocked Bugsy wants to touch him again so soon, frankly, after that whole debacle; even if that was literally why he'd brought the gloves home for him.]

Sure. Just...

[ Ms Mojo had settled herself to the side as Bugsy fiddled around with the haircare supplies. She put her muzzle back on his leg, blinking up at him. ]

Go set up. I should be good in ten, I'll buzz if I'm not. Alright?

Yeah. Yeah, 'course.

[It takes both hands to push him up from the awkward spot he's slumped himself into, but Bugsy won't miss the twitch of his tail smacking the inside of his pants as he turns to move away.]

It's the one with that full-body mirror set-up instead of a sink, next to the Coda Kitchen.

[The one that's just black and white for some weird reason.

And honestly, Gil spends most of that ten minutes (or however long Bugsy chooses to take) gently panicking; he's already got a pair of shears in there, so he's using those to cut off the bandages wrapped around his torso. There's no getting around this one: he'd gotten lucky managing to keep Bugsy's hands off his torso during their... fun, but even if the higher bullet wound that went through his heart is covered by the shaggy mane currently, the one that went through his ribs isn't, on either side. And they're going to be revealing them in full anyway.

So mostly he's just standing facing the mirror, examining the scars on his chest with a tired air. They're healing well enough, no longer bubbled or weird and itchy-tender, but still highly sensitive, and his ears flick as he traces around the wound again.]

[ Bugsy spent the ten minutes cuddled up to his mutt, trying to get his head into some sorta array. This was an apology, a way to make up for the tension of their encounter. A simple tit for tat. He didn't need to have his heart in his throat like this.
Eventually he figured he ought to just get it over with, heaving himself up and dragging the supplies with him.

Despite the heaviness of his boots, Gil probably didn't hear him approaching, only saw him slip into the background of his reflection, eyes red and shiny in the fluorescent light. ]

What's the other guy look like?

[Shirtless like this, Bugsy will see Gil's mane raise a fraction, ears flick directly back at him as Gil spots him in the mirror - but both relax in the same moment. He doesn't like not hearing people, and he's not sure if he was just distracted or Bugsy was being Winter.]

Ribs, neck, spine... used his ass to break through a wall and throw him down a three storey drop.

[The details are unnecessary, really, but it's a very Autumn response. He glances over his shoulder to meet Bugsy's eye properly.]

Course, he did shoot me first, so I'm not sure who's laughing now.

You're still alive. Means you're the one who can laugh at all.

[ Bugsy stepped into the bathroom properly, retrieving a pair of shears before gently putting the bag down next to the bathtub. ]

You gonna sit in the tub for this? Just might be less messy.

Wasn't at the time.

[But that's all he'll say on that for now; instead he'll nod at Bugsy's suggestion with a small affirmative grunt, and does indeed sit on the edge of the bath with his hooves on the inside.]

You don't have to be, like. Precious or anything with it, you can just grab a handful and start whacking.

Y'know what punks my age used to use instead of mohawk gel? Fucking Elmer's glue. I've got experience with this.

[ But his touch betrayed his caution, holding only at the very ends of the mane, only daring to get close to Gil's skin with the shears, cutting at the part of the hair before it got tangled. It was slow work, but fairly efficient, and so far, he managed to avoid any real skin to skin contact.

Until his pinkie slipped.

And Gil got a brief taste of the sheer compressed nervousness lurking below the surface, how desperate he was to not fuck this up, again. ]

[It's not like Gil's coming across as any less nervous, really: as soon as Bugsy's fingers start carding his fur, it all starts standing on end, shoulders tensing just enough to be visible as his ears flick back. He hasn't... doesn't let people touch his fur, normally; his mane starts below his hairline so it's easy to ignore the incidental touches of it when people brush past his shoulders, he's more worried about his ears when people touch his head and what they see as hair. So to have someone, with such deliberate care, such tenderness, working through it... he's not sure whether it's just touch starvation, familiar and relaxing or disturbingly, distressingly familiar to how he used to be soothed into complacency Back There.

So he's already halfway freaking out when the fingers brush through deeper, and feels that brief, cool contact.

Gil's hands on the edge of the tub grip with such sudden force that the shitty digital porcelain cracks like a gunshot, his loose tail presses flat like it's trying to tuck between his legs and a brief growl escapes before he can strangle it into submission.

And then his ears turn bright red, when the extra panic disappears as soon as it's gone.]

...sorry.

[ The crack of the porcelain made Bugsy scatter backwards, shears still in hand. He stared at Gil's back for a good long while, the fly-like hairs all over standing on edge at the sudden acute panic. But then Bugsy took a long breath, and rubbed his face with the gloved back of his hand. ]

No, 'm sorry. I must've fucked up.

[Gil leans forward a fraction, so he can rest his elbows on his knees and rub his face for a few seconds.]

Maybe it'd be easier if we just kept contact. Then there's no, like... sudden fucking surprises. [For either of them.] I can handle that, I'm not sure I can handle this so well.

If you think that'd work.

[ Bugsy wasn't convinced, but he'd try it, if only to get to say he told Gil so.
He resumed his previous position, this time threading his fingers under the fur, fingertips against Gil's neck as he held each part of the fur steady.
The nervousness from their last contact was still there, of course. But eventually, there was something warm and familiar there, too. Spurred by the memory of cutting the hair of other punks in shitty filthy bathrooms, a familiar intimacy he hadn't gotten to experience in a good long while. And there was, of course, some nervousness less acute and fearful. Something more akin to butterflies. ]

[Again Gil's fur stands on end with the gentle touch, but this time his hands curl into tight fists with the blast of nervousness - and he takes a deep breath, holding it in his chest for as long as he can, before he lets it out slowly, and inhales again. It doesn't make the fur settle but it helps him... categorise, almost. Find the gaps between Bugsy's nervousness and his own, break down the distinctions between the big feelings they're both having, and try and identify the little ones at all.

Bugsy starting to relax helps wind down the worst of his own stress, too, despite how hard he's trying to keep things separate; and when he lets out another deep exhale, a gentle tug from Bugsy, incidental at best, makes him tilt his head back, just a fraction, as his ears twitch just a little further away from his skull.]

Edited 2021-05-15 13:15 (UTC)

[ Gil relaxing, in turn, helped Bugsy breathe further, to actually enjoy the intimacy of it. He felt useful, for once, and Gil was so soft, and- Gil had reacted to that little tug there. Something bloomed, trepidation and curiosity. ]

Did that... feel good?

[Damn right he's soft, Gil takes excessively good care of his mane. He's felt it dirty and he never wants to go back to that, even remotely.]

Uhh... kind of...

[It was complicated, too much to explain when he's trying not to lose himself again - he feels that slight shift in Bugsy's emotions, and the curiosity is piquing his own, makes his tail twitch in trepidation, and he can't help it.]

Just - be gentle, with that...?

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