Afterthought Muses

[I’m a multimuse blog! Hello and Howdy! I follow back from trapped-with-nightmares. I’m a sideblog. Headcanons and bios for how I play my charas will come much later. I am very slow, very busy. But always down to plot. Zero tolerance for bigotry.]

[RULES]

Hancock's face softens, almost too much, at Sal's response. Like it's trying to compete with how mushy his heart is all of a sudden. Expecting anything from anyone in the Commonwealth is dangerous and irresponsible. Being emotionally vulnerable or even available is too much of a risk. He's experienced his fair share of heartaches and disappointment to know that tangling himself up with someone else is a good way to get fucked over.

But Sal -- a man who, like most survivors of a difficult world, fell into his life one day. Sal, a man who risks life and limb to make sure they both make it out of a sticky situation. A man who causes an old ghoul's heart to throb and by god, if Hancock could blush? What he and Salvador share is far more intimate to continue guarding himself as he does.

As much as Stede loves the roll of the waves against the Revenge and the salty breeze through his hair, there are just some domestic delights a pirate ship cannot have that a city does. Yes, his library is certainly expansive (at least as far as naval vessels go), and yes he will read every single book in his possession until they deteriorate, but he's been itching for a new read for weeks, now. A new adventure to read while on his own adventure. Dinner and dessert. Half the ships they've tried to raid barely have so much as a cook book, let alone a novel he's never seen. So when Roach tells him they need to resupply, Stede all but jumps at the opportunity to stop at the next port.

The crew is more than happy to explore and see if their 'hard-earned' paychecks can get them anything fun. As long as someone focuses on resupplying the ship, Stede doesn't care what they do. He's off to find a book shop, nearly bee-lining off the Revenge in a lavish gentleman's outfit.

It takes him a few minutes just to wade through the crowds of people at the port markets, avoiding any stalls entirely lest he risk another scam. He almost scowls to remember the incident back in Tortuga, where he didn't realize the rare William Kidd biography in his hands was a total fake. Of course, the merchant was already long gone before Stede could ever find him. He still refuses to reveal just how much he's spent on that mistake.

Finally he squeezes past the bulk of bodies and to his surprise, a quaint little book shop with an attractive brick-face greets him.

"Ah! That didn't take long at all!" He exclaims to no one, but he receives a few glances.

As soon as he swings open the door the scent of paper and ink rushes into his nose. Stede inhales it greedily, a grin on his face. At long last! He doesn't even know where to begin; there are so many books! What better way to begin his search than with how one reads: left to right (right after giving the shop keeper an excited greeting). Fingers run over the spines of brand new books with eyes flicking over titles. So many of them already catch his eye, but he wills himself to find temperance. The books aren't going anywhere. He can always come back.

By the time Stede reaches the middle of the left-hand side, he's carrying three books and on his way to grab up a fourth when he notices a man eyeing the intricately decorated spines in section he aims to view.

Him ‘liking it’ definitely is an understatement - because what Kim holds in his gloved palms here is more than just a mere toy, more than just a small thing made of plastic and metal… at least for him, a man who has always been fascinated by aerostatics, both the real ones and the model versions which he’s been collecting ever since he’s been able to spend his Reál in such a way.

And this one right here - the one Harry has managed to dig up from post-war rubble, which really just means dumpster diving in Du Bois-speech - is just so very special on his own. Whoever had aquired this model before, used to be the owner, surely hasn’t thrown it away just like that - simply because those special models hadn’t been bought to be handled carelessly, as they used to be expensive and rare from the get-go.

Means it must have been loved and cherished before…

The Lieutenant swallows as he pushes the thought away that starts to form inside his head - blinks himself back into reality instead, carefully turning the aerostatic this and that way with his hands to take a better look at the craftsmanship and the dedication that has been poured into this little thing. Only after what feels like a solid minute of him just staring (and admiring), he looks back up to meet his partner’s gaze with the dark of his own irises - his usually so very well-kept composure still unable to hide the surprise from displaying on his features, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.

“Harry - I’m… not just liking it. This is… —I never expected to ever own one of those exact models!”

It almost feels wrong to hold it - like he is stealing it from someone - but deep down he knows that, whoever this aerostatic has once belonged to, is most likely not around anymore.

Clearing his throat, Kitsuragi takes a soft breath through his nose - trying to get his shit together, to stop himself from acting like a kid being offered to have some extra dessert after dinner. It…somewhat works, but not as effectively as he would have hoped to - because when he speaks next, he can still hear himself talking like the utter nerd he secretly is, buried beneath layers of polished professionalism.

“—Oh, I have a dedicated spot in one of my shelves, where I keep all of my aerostatic and motor carriage models. It will fit perfectly next to the Senamese 4-33 model I managed to get my hands on a few months ago - because it is widely seen as the successor of the one I’m holding right now, with it’s improved—”

Oh holy Dolores Dei - listen to yourself, Kim! He stops himself mid-sentence, then - once he realizes that he is rambling, that he has, in fact, not managed to get his shit together - and clears his throat a second time, straightening his back, feeling the tips of his ears starting to burn with embarrassment. “… Anyways, yes, uh - I do know where I would put this. –-Thank you, Detective. I am glad you found it … it would have been sad to lose it within the dirt and debris, as it is truly… well, rare.”

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EMPATHY [Easy: success] -- Kim only barely contains his enthusiasm, and his glasses only serve to further magnify already widened eyes. He desperately wishes to maintain his professional visage in the eyes of others, failing almost miserably.

PERCEPTION -- The tips of the Lieutenant's ears are tinged red.

And it's one of Harry's favorite places to look now that he knows how blushing manifests in Kim. It always causes his heart to skip and sends a radiating warmth all throughout his body. If he could, he would listen to Kim talk all day.

"I'd like to see your collection some time. I wouldn't mind a history lesson." Harry grins as he tries to encourage Kim's interests. If this is how Kim reacts to a singular aerostatic, he can't wait to hear how he talks about his entire collection. And maybe Harry isn't a gear-head necessarily, but motor carriages offer a point of interest for him, too.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY -- You're just trying to get into his apartment. Clever boy.

RHETORIC -- Why can't it be both?

VOLITION -- C'mon, now. Be civil for once.

Harry clears his throat and nudges a bit of rock with his boot as his face begins to flush as if Kim could hear his thoughts and see his desires. Kim can't. Or, not in the way he can. Kim's a great detective, but he is still no match for Harry's otherworldly abilities. He has to wonder now, what are the chances he could locate another model? Another aerostatic? A motor carriage? Maybe even a naval vessel of some kind?

Darkness hugs against the window, pressing against fog-chilled panes and looking into a dimly lit living space where two men share a couch. A tiny and rather outdated television watches them, too, with re-runs of some old program neither of the men are invested in; one of them slumps into the other's shoulder, arms crossed and eyes closed. Sleeping. The other can barely keep his eyes open. Nothing a loud commercial break can't fix, though, and the man's eyes fly open. Sleep still clings to him, and it takes him a moment to readjust.

HALF-LIGHT - The fuck was that sound?

LOGIC [Easy: Success] - An ad. You don't remember falling sleep watching the television?

PERCEPTION - A rather peppy -- and *loud* -- advertisement for FALN sportswear plays on the old picture box. Lights strobe as scenes make jerky cuts from one scene to the next, forcing you to blink against the crust of sleep forming in your eyes.

Harry groans and goes to move but a familiar weight against his shoulder keeps him from standing. In his ear he can hear the slow, heavy breaths of Jean, fast asleep.

PAIN THRESHOLD - You are too old --

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - And too out of shape --

PAIN THRESHOLD - -- to be falling asleep upright.

His back is stiff and numb from slumping into the worn sofa, the extra weight of his friend not doing much to alleviate the pressure.

EMPATHY - If you wake him up, he will only struggle to fall back to sleep.

The choice is easy despite how sore his entire body will be in the morning. Harry tries to nestle into the couch some more, shifting just enough so that his back can rest against the arm of the couch, and Jean's head is against his chest. With a heavy head of his own, Harry leans it against the cushions, bringing an arm up and over to rest on Jean's side. Eyes close once more and to drown out the sound of the tv, Harry thinks about the weight of his friend and how warm his body is against his own.