#voltadcmar

𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐌𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

"i'm gonna level with you, kim, man," he says through a sigh, disappointed and rising up through the throat like reflux and motor oil, kindlessly slow and heavy. "i don't think i can take much more of this — "

( harry makes a nebulous flourish of his brawler's hands. the motion is odd and directionless, for a moment, before he settles on pantomiming his approximation of cradling an imaginary baby. perhaps it's still bizarre, but he's content enough to get the point across. )

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?

All of the flirting and kissing leads the two officers into Kim's bedroom. Harry's heart beats wildly behind his chest with each step towards that private space. It crashes into his ribs and against his sternum when Kim tells him to get into bed, and it throbs its way up his throat the minute Kim pins him against the bed. Heat washes over his entire body with a considerable concentration of it gathering in his groin. Harry swallows thickly as he watches the man on top of him settle into his lap.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY -- Feel that, stud? That's right, Kim is intentionally sitting on your erection.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Easy] -- Kim makes it difficult to not wiggle and beg underneath of him, but you can't lose your cool now, can you? Breathe, Harry.

VOLITION -- Show Kim you know how to be intimate.

pinned against a wall prompts | [ open ]

Somewhere in the back of his mind Lucky knows he's having a breakdown. That's why he had tucked himself into an alleyway, stumbling the entire way until finally collapsing down on the dirty pavement. In the shadow of the surrounding buildings.

His chest is constricting. He clutches at his jacket like a lifeline. His heart is beating so fast it feels like it could break his ribs any second now. His other hand clasped on his mouth as he tries to silence the gasps of air he's desperately trying to take. But it's as if none of it actually fills his lungs. The organ filtering through nothing. His own whimpers is the only sound he hears over the ringing in his ears.

Lucky had felt this coming the moment he realized Pak wasn't anywhere to be found. But he thought he could keep a handle on it. Replace the fear with anger. He had even confronted Delphis about it. He should have known that would only make it worse. She's placed a price on his head now. Likely is holding Pak somewhere herself.

But the straw that had broken the camel's back had been the news Ronen Tagge had somehow survived the explosion in his penthouse. The dead man that's plagued Lucky's nightmares is very much alive, and worse, is looking for him.

He can't breathe. His mind is blank beyond sheer overwhelming panic. His brother is missing and he's going to die. If not by Delphis's lackeys by Tagge's hand. It's all crumbling down at once.

Hands pulling him up by his arms and his back hitting the cold wall ground him back into reality. His mind is still hazy. But the gloved hands are familiar somehow. A strong, reassuring pressence. His emotional mind supplies the first name it thinks of. " ... Ariole ? " He mutters. The name almost slurred. But as reality comes back little by little, he meets dark eyes not unlike his own. Very much not Ariole's.

" Kitsuragi . " He corrects. Aware enough to try to make his voice sound steady - even if he fails. As he brings a hand up to rub his forehead he realises his cheeks are wet with tears. Embarrassing.

A single digit traces the rim of a glass in an almost nervous gesture. Lucky has barely touched his drink, too caught up in his own thoughts. The cop - or rather, Kitsuragi, God forbid he accidentally calls him cop in here - had definitely implied that he'd show up tonight. If he hasn’t chickened out of the entire deal at least. Lucky's having second thoughts about inviting him out here at all.

The familiar music of Club Lazuli drums on in the background. It's Monday, one of the calmer days for the small bar. It might be the only place in Revachol he feels like he doesn't have to constantly watch his back. Where that feeling of danger finally subsides. This would be the only place he would consider doing business that would get him gutted if Delphis even heard rumours about it. But was it really the right choice to bring that kind of heat to the only place that's ever felt safe?

He'd thought about telling Di'reni about this. But had chosen against it. It's not that he doesn't trust her. He trusts her more than most others. Though that isn't saying much. It's that he knows not to get her involved in these types of things that he chose to keep it to himself. She won’t have anything to complain about when he does pay off his tab. Let her think the man is another one of his flings. It's what she's used to from him. Even if Kitsuragi is a bit old to be his usual type.

He doesn't quite know what to make of the man himself. He'd seemed sincere, but that only makes him more suspicious. Not that it matters much. Lucky wouldn't be doing this if he thought his investigation would change anything regardless. This way, he at least gains favour. Win win, right?

He gets the sudden urge to knock on wood.