#renscott

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Renthedog

Location: Rose House, New Star Station

🖤  🧡  💚

Rose House has one of the less busy shower facilities. Ren takes his sweet time working soap behind his ears, beneath his arms, and all the way down his back. It’s not easy with the nub hands, but he makes it work. The thick fluff of his canine legs need some extra TLC. So does the tail, to pick out burs and grass and grit. He’ll definitely be brushing out his hair. Shame Doc’s got his hands full this morning; Ren’s not gonna make him do the grooming when he got called into work. And straight after this, they need to hop on the temp server and check up with the fox kids. With the hub core down night and day, those four have had a lot of time to build… or harass each other, totally unsupervised. Yeah, he’ll gladly take the shower while he can.

Feelin’ fresh and lookin’ good! That’s all you really need in life.

He’s yawning when he leaves the stall, skin still unbuttoned halfway down his chest, until a voice nearby clears a clogged-up throat. Then, forced through dewdrop softness, “Hi~i, Ren!”

Ren’s hearts stutter; he twitches upright. “Major?” Swiftly, he clamps both halves of skin over the glowing cyan line that coasts from throat to stomach. “What? May a dog not catch a moment to make himself presentable? … What- What are you wearing?” That’s… Ren’s eyes dart to the door that leads into the hall. Then to Scott, who’s posed sweetly on the edge of the clothes-folding counters, hands clasped around one knee. The other leg dangles off the edge. He’s wearing, uh…

Hm.

Well. The lacy crop top’s cute. Lots of flowers woven in the knitting. It’s black. Shows just a peek of the shiny crystals on his chest, and a whole lot of stomach. Spaghetti straps don’t hurt. Freckled, half-exposed arms do a lot of heavy lifting here, though Ren bites his lip at the cushy sweatpants. Embroidered amethyst crystals cling around his pockets and ankle hems. It’s certainly not the way Scott dresses while doing mayor things, but maybe that’s why it’s so eye-catching when he’s the one to flaunt it. Not a terrible combo whatsoever.

“Vintage chic,” he says, easing into a careful smile. He bears the teeth in a bigger grin. “Nice, dude! Aren’t those your mom’s?” Way to recycle. He’s not gonna say that. It’s just, y’know… The way Scott apparently hung out on the counter, waiting for him to wander his bits right out of the shower, spider-crawls nails down Ren’s spine. ‘Ask me about the outfit,’ Scott’s posture seems to say. He even outlined his lashes. He wasn’t serving that look at the squall. It’s nothing Ren’s ever seen Scott in before.

Because he’s sitting there with the gray wings unfurled. Anyone could walk in and see ‘em there. They’re hooked in the stalking spread, and Ren studies him with his head cocked to one side. That position… does not make any more sense at a 90° angle. Is Scott even conscious of his wing placement? Or are they sort of doing what they want?

“That does make them mine, technically. I’m the Allay Dragon now; they were in the dragon’s closet space.” Scott lifts a beckoning finger. Ren, yanked by something extremely invisible around his foot, jerks a step. The noise he makes is nothing short of a puppy with its paw stepped on. He digs in his heels.

“What? HEY!”

Scott leaves his finger floating, eyes half-lidded the whole time. Ren grits his teeth. Is he waiting for a safeword? The line between ‘scene’ and ‘straight’ balances on a needle point. Blurrier still when they sort of-almost had a chat at the lek, and sort of-almost might’ve made something of it then. Scott’s lashes shine fresh with blue-black mascara. He doesn’t pull the cord again, but moves his finger in a small circle, wrapping and then unwrapping the unseen thread. Every time he does, Ren can feel it dragging at his ankle. Scott lifts one loop to his teeth and catches it around a bottom fang.

“See, I don’t- I don’t know if you just thought I wouldn’t notice you and Pig sneaking outside the wall? You know the rules, Ren. If you play with fire, then I get to burn.”

Every heartbeat chases energy up into his ears. Question marks jab his skin like they’ve been twisted into daggers. Scott’s never… cut him open with a glance and taken him apart with smiling eyes like this before. This is new. This is sudden. Ren, carefully holding loose skin against his chest, leans down to feel the contract thread, but it’s still invisible. Either way, his hands pass through without making contact. “So it is you who took upon yourself my case for claiming residency… You must be very good at what you do. I haven’t heard a peep out of HALO since I got here.”

Scott’s smile is warm and lush when it drifts across the space between them. Warm like the shower water dripping down his neck, still damp against his hair. “Everything is on the up and up. Well. We do need to talk about last night.”

“I do in fact know these rules like they’re engraven upon my hearts. And if I remember what I signed, I believe I have 300 wander hours to pay you back. Lovin’ the new vex look, by the way.” Simple, but he looks like he could use encouragement. Ren doesn’t like the look of the glitchy hand Scott is keeping mostly in his lap. It sparks amethyst blue and navy purple, threaded in with shocks of lightning white.

“Thank youuu… You do, yes, and that will be about two weeks. But I thought you’d find the roleplay fun. Is it working?” Scott pushes off the counter without waiting for an answer, landing with a pat-pat of soft shoes over tile floor. “For your sake, I hope I’m satisfied after just one claim. You broke your geas no less than 10,000 times last night, Ren. That’s bad. You exposed yourself to a whole lot of people.”

The hairs on his arms start to lift, but he holds his ground as best he can. “I had nothing to do with that. That was all Pig.”