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@thefcrsaken
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"Hello~" Virgil had began to say in that all too confident tone of voice he enjoyed teasing others with. Even when not teasing, the older man couldn't help speaking in a sassy inflection that painted each word coming out of his mouth with an unserious and sarcastic undertone. He bites his bottom lip as his bright blue eyes scan the other man up and down with great interest. It was usually Virgil who was the one trailing behind others hoping to get a quick hop in the sac. He brought himself closer to Camden's personal space, eyes trailing across his lips and feeling an intense need to perhaps close the distance with his own.
The bright screen showcasing his own flash of personality was shove between them. Virgil's expression changed from a smirk of hunger, to a smirk of pride as he takes Camden's phone from his hands. Virgil's eyebrow wiggle as he looked down at the phone, "Well, I don't mean to answer stupid questions, but this kind of dick."
"You got to hand it to me, I have a pretty nice knob, huh. Can I send this to myself? This one has really good lighting." Virgil smiles proudly as he hands the phone back to Camden. He brings an arm around the other man's shoulders as he continues to speak, "I know, I shouldn't have kept you from all this. Here." Virgil brings a hand to hold one of Camden's, leading the other man's hand to his hefty crotch, "I think a couple hours riding and choking on it should be enough for you to forgive me."
"We should probably head into a room somewhere though, or here… I've never said no to an empty alleyway before." Virgil suggests, looking around them before titling his head at the alleyway's direction, checking Camden's reaction. He wouldn't want to do anything the other man didn't feel comfortable with, despite him pressing his bulge flush against the other's palm. Virgil had wronged this man terribly by forgetting who they were, it was only right he tried making immediate amends by giving Camden the cock he craved. Perhaps a good fuck with him would help Virgil remember him in the future.
@thefcrsaken
The boy was frustrated but rather than getting any closure by cornering the man like this, Virgil managed to wind him up even more with his flagrant disregard for Camden's feelings; with his arrogance and teasing.
"You're just a dick," He protest's as his phone is given back to him, his head shaking in response to everything the man had just said to him; to how amused he seemed to be by the whole ordeal. Maybe, in a different light, Camden would have been just as amused but he was so, obviously, pent up that being teased by the man with the potential of having sex only to be ignored set him off. Maybe, under his frustration, he was actually more desperate than anything else.
Groaning under his breath, he tried to shrug the man's arm off of him as it draped over his shoulders. He goes to argue more, to call Virgil a dick again, only to have his entire face go beet red as the man grabs his hand and brings it down to cup over his bulge; the color somehow darkening as he makes a crude offer to give Camden what he wants, having him ride and choke on him for a couple of hours, as some sort of consolation prize.
How the hell was he supposed to think rationally now?
"A-alleyway," the boy's voice cracks, his hand giving Virgil's ample bulge a squeeze, as he looks over at the emptied breezeway the man had just been nodding at. This whole thing spelled a bad idea, but Camden didn't care anymore. He needed it. "Alleyway." He repeated, his voice more confident after he took a second to swallow his breath.
There was no turning back now. Not when he was so close to getting what he wanted.
What he needed.
@thrallttleme
❝ prompt. ❞ where: Camden’s dorm room — cramped, overly warm, and unmistakably lived-in. A couple of empty beer cans sit on the desk next to a blinking laptop left open overnight. Bar wristbands and a crumpled receipt from last night are tossed on the dresser. The bed is unmade, sheets tangled in a way that makes the room feel smaller than it already is. Pale morning light filters through cheap blinds, illuminating the institutional furniture and making everything feel more real—and more uncomfortable—than it did a few hours ago. when: Tuesday morning, around 9 a.m. — Shep is pulling on his jacket, already halfway out the door, heading home to shower and get ready to teach his class. The alcohol has worn off, leaving behind a pounding headache and the sharp awareness that this was a mistake—one he’ll be thinking about long after he leaves the dorm behind. whom: camden / the forsaken (@thefcrsaken) ask: display. for sender's muse to watch as receiver's muse begins to get dressed. with Camden saying: "I'm surprised that you stayed. I thought you'd left…" (shep from camden)
Shep kept his back to the bed as he reached for his shirt, draped over the desk chair where it had been hastily discarded hours earlier. The morning light cut through the dorm room blinds in harsh strips, making everything look cheaper than it had in the dark—the furniture, the decisions, all of it. "I'm surprised that you stayed. I thought you'd left…" Camden's voice came from behind him, still roughened with sleep, carrying a note of something Shep couldn't afford to identify. Hope, maybe. Or satisfaction.
Shep pulled the shirt over his head before turning around, his expression already shuttering into something harder, more distant. "Don't get used to it." The words came out clipped, precise, the same tone he used when shutting down arguments in seminars. "This was a one-time thing. A moment of weakness." He spotted his belt on the floor near the foot of the bed and bent to retrieve it, threading it through his belt loops with focus.
Anything to avoid looking directly at Camden, at the bed, at the evidence of his spectacular lapse in judgment. At least Camden wasn't one of his students. That would have made this not just stupid but tricky. But he was still a student. Still young enough to not understand the impossible gap between them, still naive enough to think last night could mean something beyond what it was: a mistake wrapped in too much wine and the particular loneliness that came with faculty mixers where everyone asked about research and no one asked how you were.
Shep grabbed his jacket from where it had fallen near the door, checking the pockets for his phone and keys. Both present. Good. He could leave cleanly, no excuse to come back. "Look," he said, finally glancing toward the bed but keeping his gaze somewhere around Camden's shoulder, "you seem like a good kid. But I'm thirty-five years old. I have a career, a reputation. You're what, twenty-one? Twenty-two? Anyway, it was... a mistake."
He didn't wait for an answer.
"We ran into each other at a bar. We both had too much to drink. That's all this was." Even as he said it, he could feel the lie of omission sitting heavy in his chest. The way they'd talked for three hours before anything physical happened, the way Camden had recognized him not from the university but from the news footage three months ago, collar and all. The way it had felt less like weakness and more like finally breathing after holding his breath for months, to have someone look at him and see both versions of who he was without flinching.
Shep shrugged into his jacket, the his collar tags jingled softly in the too-quiet room. His hand was already on the doorknob when he paused, some vestige of decency making him add, "You didn't do anything wrong. But... this can't happen again." He didn't say I can't let this happen again. Didn't say I want to stay. Didn't say any of the true things that would only make leaving harder. The door clicked shut behind him with a finality that echoed down the empty dormitory hallway.
Exhaustion clung to him almost as desperately as his bed sheets did. Lifting himself up onto his elbows, he was able to hide the lack of sleep behind the tired lines and feigned discomfort of a raging hangover. He was used to how they felt, their dull drumming in his head and the way it left his limbs feeling weighted and rigid was a familiar territory that was almost comforting to him. He had turned to drinking plenty of times to try and fill the seemingly bottomless vat of loneliness that he was built from. The only real difference is this time, rather than turning to advil and cigarettes to help his body settle as the alcohol worked it's way out of his system, Camden hadn't really been that drunk; and he wasn't alone.
Even in the awkwardness of the silence that settled over them, as he sat back against his bed's headboard and watched the older man move around his room, Camden was absolutely mesmerized by him.
He was absolutely dumbfounded at the idea that a man like that-- a hero-- had wanted him too.
Maybe things would be different now. Maybe he did have a chance at feeling something warm-- something close to intimacy-- but just as he began to let himself lighten and chase after the idea of finally not being somebody no one wanted to care about, or even consider, the bitter blade of reality came plunging into his chest as Shep threw those words at him.
Don't get used to it.
This was a one time thing.
A moment of weakness.
With a shuddered breath, all that previous hope from waking up to find the man still with him shattered as he was reminded of the truth.
He was a mistake.
Slowly pulling his sheets up, covering his body out of embarrassment, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off the man even as they began to fill with water; even as they began to darken with something akin to hatred.
He didn't even bother to argue that he was twenty six. What was the point.
"We both had too much to drink," Camden repeated the other's words but that didn't mean he agreed to it. He had a bit to drink, sure, but once the liquor had given him the courage to even think he had a chance if he made a move the boy stopped his drinking. He wanted to keep his wits about him so that if by some struck of luck or mercy of some god Shep actually returned his interest he would be able to take the necessary steps and precautions to make sure he could sleep with the man without having his powers steal the night away from him; without having his powers make Shep forget.
Now he wished he hadn't.
The sound of the door closing tossed another dagger into his barely beating heart, but rather than sitting there in the uncomfortable and brutal silence the hero had left him in, Camden climbed out of his bed and followed after him; his sheet clung tight around his body to give himself some cover as he stepped out into the stark, clinical quiet of the emptied dormitory hallway; following after Shep like a man possessed.
"Wait," there was a desperation in his voice that he couldn't shake, no matter how hard he tried, as he slipped into place behind the man and reached around him; wrapping his arms tight around his midsection and pulling him tight against him, his face buried against the man's back. "Wait... please." There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to argue, so much he wanted to damn the man for but more than that Camden wanted to return the man's cruelty.
He wanted him to touch him, now that he had nothing to protect Shep from himself with, so he could make him forget what he clearly already wished he could.
"Hm..." cris actually took the time to think about it, he's held a guy's hand before and it felt pleasant enough. maybe it was pleasant to be touched and not have to dodge it or snatch himself away or do anything crazy. to just have someone's fingers in between his own was nice. "I mean, they make it look good in the movies. Was it like the movies until, you know, you got dunked?" he snickered softly.
"Hey, no, it's okay," he shook his head as he tried to reassure the other. he didn't have many non-surface level friends and he didn't remember playing any of the games others knew, he had to be taught too, "hold on, I'll think of something..." he looked around the pool briefly.
"Have you ever played red light, green light?"
"Yeah, the movies make it look great." He wasn't speaking from experience, he could count all the movies he'd actually sat down and seen on one hand but rather than admitting to that-- rather than continually proving to everyone that he was just a waste upon them all, a failure, he figured he owed it to himself to at least try and pretend he was normal; to lie. "It was pretty nice I guess, still don't actually know what your skin feels like but, yeah. Nice." He mumbled with a loose nod of his head as his eyes drifted off, his mind already slipping as he started to distance himself again.
He didn't want to distance himself though. He liked Cris, and he lacked friends. So he gave his head a shake and clenched his eyes tight, as if he was trying to get water off his face but really he was forcing himself to focus; to be present.
"Uh, no, I don't think I have but it sounds pretty self explanatory? We can move on green but we can't move on red?"
Adam glanced in the direction of the voice. He had been aware of Camden, the way one is aware of wind on their skin. A passive sense of existence. Of something there.
He smiled, walking over to him. With little preamble he reached out and pressed the tip of a finger to the cigarette. The nanites superheated, and with a barely audible hiss the tobacco was lit.
'I don't suppose you need to be reminded that those things will kill you.'
his entire body tensed as the other moved closer to him, always on guard and defensive, but he settled a bit as the finger was lifted towards him; as, well, something seemed heat up in the other's fingertip; quickly lighting the end of his cigarette for him.
“thanks,” he mumbled as he brought it to his lips and took a deep drag, filling his lungs with the familiar bitterness of the smoke. peeking through the tendrils as they billowed out of his mouth, on his breath, he furrowed his brow as the other mentioned how deadly the damned things were to him like some kind of half hearted, sponsored DARE ad.
“yeah, i know.” he mumbled back, almost dismissively, as he took another step forward so he could drop down to sit on the edge of the roof.
he didn't need to say anything else, he had what he needed, but then again wasn't this what he wanted?
someone to talk to?
“you know, I don't even like the taste of ‘em that much. i don’t smoke ‘cause of that. i just, i don’t know, always had a habit for it… and it's easier to bum a smoke off of someone than a shot.” he offered up with a weak shrug, his hand falling away from his face to hold the cigarette out in front of himself as he blankly stared at it. “guess i just like having somethin' in my mouth, or somethin'. it's a nice distraction from everything else.”

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FRIENDS ( unlimited ): this one doesn't need too much explanation and won't really require any plotting, I just wanted to start off with something simple because the boy needs someone who know how to handle him and his social inadequacy's, someone who can see through the walls he's built around himself and his fondness for distance, someone that can see he's trying and is there to be a friend for him at the end of the day; even when he might not deserve it.
ADVISARY / TORMENTOR ( 0/2 ): I don't want to do too many of this type just because I'm not looking for any redemption here. I want him to have someone here that, regardless of his efforts, can't stand camden so they go out of their way to make him even more miserable than he already is. this isn't going to be an enemies to lovers trope. they genuinely hate each other and only bring out the worst in each other.
FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS ( 2/3 ): as it was briefly mentioned in his dossier/bio, sex is possible for camden-- especially when he gets into a mood and no longer cares about whether the man remembers fucking him or not-- but it takes a bit of planning and a bit of extra safety measures. he doesn't get to act on his urges often, because of the work that he has to put into it so he and whoever he's with can be comfortable and actually enjoy themselves, but he wants to get to a place where he's not always so wound up; which means he is going to need some help; he's going to need a few people he can turn to, that will be patient with him, that will indulge him.
BIRTH FATHER ( 1/1 ): this is the biggest one for me. his step-father was horrible to him but was also the only father figure he had in his life-- his birth father left before he was born and his mother never told camden about him; what his name was; or if he was even still alive.
the only reason camden has any interest in his birth father is from the fact that when he went to get tested to see if he had the superhero gene or if he really was just cursed-- the results wound up leaving him with more questions than answers. he discovered he had powers, or at least they referred to them as powers, but the test also indicated that his father had been tested as well; that he wasn't the only corso in their system, meaning that his father was potentially not only alive-- but a hero that called fortitude hall home.
I would like to build this plot with someone, and I am open to the relationship being positive or negative between them, so if this is-- or any of these plots are-- something that interests you please let me know (either on here or in my discord dm's)
"Sure I could've, but would you have actually jumped in with your clothes on?" he teased. "Getting to hold your hand was a nice bonus, so don't go thinking that was just to pull you in--" when he looked up at saw the other's playfulness fade in that small change in microexpression, cris fell back both figuratively and physically.
Is it too much?
"Uhm...you know, I don't actually know any pool games or anything like that. Do you?" someone with electricity coursing through their body had no business being in large bodies of water, so he's never played in a lake, a river, anything like that.
“fuck, okay, yeah, fair point. i definitely would have told you no.” if cris had only asked he would have probably come up with a handful of excuses to try and get out of it just so he could avoid the admin of having to clean and dry his clothes properly. it might not have appeared to be true, but he was glad the other had pulled him in. “it's kinda weird, doncha ya think? holding someone's hand?” camden bit on his lower lip, the taste of chlorine strange against his tongue, as he swam forward a bit. “not that i'm complaining, you have nice hands or whatever… but i don't know. it's just weird, the idea of wanting to just do that with someone…”
it was weird; and simple; and it was something he craved more than he cared to admit.
“yeah, so, uhm,” the words were broken apart with a soft, embarrassed chuckle as he tried to shrug his shoulders while he kept treading water. “guess it's not common knowledge, but i didn't really have a lot of friends before comin' here. it was just… easier… to keep my distance. i like being in the water but i, uhm, i normally only go swimming and do shit like that when i'm alone…”
“you probably should have picked someone else to come out here with ya. sorry.”
once he confirmed the other was okay and not in actual distress, cris let out a laugh when he got the other finally in the water. he'd take the splashes and the water to the face for it, it was worth having to wipe his eyes and shake his hair again.
"See? Nothing to worry about!" he splashed back and smiled brightly. "I still remember you, you're not taking a toaster bath, it's great!" he even swam a bit closer to cam, though he was careful about it. he figured he wouldn't want cris to get too close.
see? nothing to worry about. I still remember you, you're not taking a toaster bath, it's great!
shaking his head to get the water off of his face, his hands quickly pressed against his chest and stomach to try and smooth his clothes down-- to make sure they weren't lifting up too much in the water-- but the pool was a bit deeper in that spot than he thought so he had to quickly, instead, throw his arms out to start treading water to keep himself up; which was much more difficult to do as the layers of his clothing suddenly felt less protective and more weighted.
but he was smiling.
it's great!
he couldn't remember the last time he had actually enjoyed himself or had fun with someone else. it was like a breath of fresh air.
“you know, you could have told me what you were actually planning,” camden argued with a roll of his eyes, “instead of tricking me and letting me think you just wanted to hold my hand.” the playfulness in his features dropped, his posture tensing, as cris moved closer to him but camden held his tongue. he was covered well enough, and they had been fine with cris pulled him in.
it's okay. they were okay.
“okay, you got me in the water. so… now what?”
"You should. You can design it how you like, have it look really cool, make it your favorite colors, all of that. There's people who wear normal clothes to save the day, but what's the fun in that." he couldn't help but smirk at cam wanting to see he him his suit. "Tell you what, after the pool, I'll model it for you so you can get some ideas."
As he held cam's covered hand he thought of his own situation with touch. was this enough for him? cris was a little greedy in his own way, he'd have to have more especially if the only thing keeping him from feeling more was some fabric. it was relatable. "I won't test it, but..." while holding the other boy's hand, he pulled his arm back. he hoped the sudden shift in force would be enough to tip him into the pool from the edge.
for a moment he almost believed it. he almost believed that they would design a suit for him; that they would help him. the more he let himself fall for the trap of optimism, the quicker that dark voice in the back of his mind began to claw it's way to the front.
it isn't a power, it's a curse.
you aren't anyone worth remembering.
you certainly won't ever be a hero.
they took you in out of pity but it's only a matter of time before they forget you, just like everyone else.
clenching his jaw, he forced the best smile he could as he tried to pretend that cristian was right; as he tried to ignore how obvious it was that he was never going to be anything like the other. “we'll see, i don't mind my normal clothes though. it's more comfortable,” he mumbled, “i'd much rather see you in your suit though. that sounds like it could be fun.”
it wasn't much of anything at all, but as simple as being able to hold the other's hand was it helped keep camden grounded. he missed moments like this. he missed having friends. “you can, i'm not afraid of a little spark…” instead cris used his grip to yank him forward.
the sudden shift of movement caught him off guard and even though he tried to catch himself, camden came tumbling forward; falling into the pool with a loud, erratic splash. the cold water was a shock to his system, but it was one he really needed.
surfacing quickly, his limbs flailing, the panic on his features quickly faded into a smile as his rushed breathing melted into a laugh.
“you're an ass,” he laughed as he smacked at the water in an attempt to splash cris in the face.

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DESPERATE TIMES CALL FOR DESPERATE MEASURES
closed | @thrallttleme
usually he made sure, at least, that he was as covered as he could be; long pants, long sleeves, socks, shoes, his gloves, etc. the longer he stared at his phone, and at the message the man had sent, the less camden could focus; the less he cared about being careful.
he hated being called needy but as he stomped through the compound-- wearing a loose pair of shorts, a t-shirt, and flipflops-- there was no way for him to deny how fitting that word was for him. he hadn't bothered to cover himself at all, he didn't even grab his gloves which wearing was like a reflex for him-- like breathing-- all because of how worked up virgil had him. that jerk.
that big, massive, thick-headed…
practically tripping over himself as he rounded a corner, camden finally found the man that had him so flustered and aching.
“you!” he yelled out, as if he had a reason to be angry, as he stomped forward; his recklessly bared left hand reaching out for the collar of virgil's shirt as he pushed the larger man up against the wall behind him. “what kind of dick,” he fussed, his cheeks darkening with color as that word knocked him off his train of thought. “what kind of jerk,” he corrected himself as he lifted his phone with his right hand; his thumb dragging over the screen until he managed to open the group forum-- and more specificially, the picture virgil had taunted him with in it-- and angled it in his hand so the other man could see the screen. “--sends a picture like that, in a group, and then just doesn't say anything at all? that was fucking rude; uncool,” the boy grumbled, his breath hitching in his throat as he looked up at virgil and became a bit too aware of how close they were now. “you just… you're a massive dick, you know that? you-- that was rude as hell, just throwing that image at me like that like. how could I not want--" he huffed under his breath. “how could I not need-- and then-- then you just stopped sending anything at all. do you have any idea how long it's been? you big, massive dick…”
cris pushed the white hair that clung to his forehead back as the other asked about his suit. "Oh my suit's kind of old now, but I got mine made after I went on a few missions. I've gone through a few of them since," he chuckled, "it's more or less a fancy full body sock that keeps the electricity from just leaking out all the time and gloves that...you know, I think the gloves are just there for moral support or placebo." he explained as he watched the other come down to his level. exactly what he wanted.
"I'm thinkin' you should take your shoes off first." wet clothes were already going to be a nightmare to walk home in, he didn't want him to have wet shoes on top of everything. "Give me your hand?" he held up his hand for cam, he had to snicker about it though, he felt like a siren tempting a sailor.
that made sense. they gave him his suit. camden was so used to being on his own, to having to fend for himself, he didn't even consider the possibility of them helping; he didn't even consider asking. “shit, i guess i need to try and ask about getting my hands on something like that. don't get me wrong, what i use works, but it's janky as fuck. i love my gloves but aside from those? nothing's really guaranteed.” he hummed with a nod of his head and pursed lips. "kinda wanna see you in that full body sock of yours though." camden teased.
cocking his head to the side, considering the other's words for a second, he found himself giving in without really taking the time to consider what he was opening himself up to as he plopped down; sitting on the concrete so he could untie his shoes and pull them off. once they were at his side, he lifted himself back up to crouch as cris offered a hand to him.
“see, the gloves work,” he commented as he reached out to trace his gloved fingers down the stretch of cristian's palm before gently grabbing hold of his hand; squeezing it a bit as he leaned forward with a loose, easy smile. "--even if you were feelin' electric, pretty sure my gloves are thick enough that i wouldn't feel it..."
cris swam up to the edge of the pool and propped his arms up on the tiled surface, folding them to rest his chin on in thought.
"Oh yeah...damn, I should've brought my suit. I'd let you borrow it." he bit his lip in thought. it took him days to figure out how to hold his electricity in, and even then it wasn't entirely sustainable. Still, it was something to celebrate when you'd spent years since coming to fortitude maneuvering around every social situation that required contact.
"...Do you care about your clothes being wet?" a mischievous smile spread slowly across his face, cheeks dimpled at he tried to hide it.
content wasn't the right word to use, but camden had settled with the reality that it wouldn't be wise for him to actually swim with cristian. he was fine to just sit there and watch. it wouldn't have been as fun but at least he was still socializing and not hiding himself away in his room. plus it was just… safer that way.
it was easier.
“nah, don't worry about it." he dismissed the other's apology with a shrug. "how did you get your suit, by the way? I don't really think I'll get one, it's not like my shit's actually useful, but i've just been using my gloves and keeping my skin as covered as possible-- and a kevlar vest for safety's sake,” he explained as he slowly stepped closer to the edge of the pool, looking down at the other as he swam up to the edge.
he was pretty well covered so he felt comfortable enough to crouch down at the pools edge, getting closer to cris so they could talk comfortably; wearing high-top sneakers, ankle socks, boxer briefs, a thick pair of jeans, a tight black tank-top underneath a white t-shirt, an oversized sweatshirt to make sure his arms were covered, and his gloves. the only thing exposed was his neck, ears, and face.
“I'm not that worried about it…” he questioned with a furrowed brow. “why? what are you thinking?”
OPEN STARTER || open to all location : the colosseum, second floor, gym showers / locker room
after finally putting in some effort and attempting a few training courses, followed by some weight lifting and general exercising, camden took to the facilities showers to wash the sweat and exhaustion off of his body. the warm water rushing over his tight, tense muscles actually felt nice; it was the closest he ever got to really feeling touched, which led to his mind wandering a bit and his body reacting accordingly.
rather than taking care of rising needs there in the shower, much to his own frustration, he opted to turn the water off so he could make his way back to the main building and, maybe, continue down this path of putting in effort.
nothing was ever that easy.
after turning off the water, he reached out of his stall to grab for his towel but nothing was there. peaking out of the stall, thinking maybe he was reaching for the wrong hook, his luck only seemed to worsen. not only was his towel gone, but so were his clothes.
this had to be some kind of fucking joke.
taking the wash cloth he had with him, which barely offered him any coverage, he held it in front of himself-- the soft fabric not helping his semi-aroused state-- as he stepped into the cold, brilliantly bright locker room.
“hey--” he called out as he saw someone stepping into the space near him, “--you didn't see anyway running out of here with a bookbag did you? or a towel?”
@fortivoice

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location: the colosseum first floor.
status: open to all! @fortivoice
since he's been training in suppressing and expending his power enough to do normal things, like touching people and getting headpats, cris wanted to both challenge and treat himself a little bit for a job well done (that, and he was battling a bout of insomnia). but he didn't want to do it alone, so he hooked in someone who was up late like him and had nothing better to do on this fine night.
after they both signed in for the pool and set down their belongings, cris was the first to strip down to his boxer briefs--oh he went further, down to nothing, and jump into the pool. the water on impact seemed like it would be cold, his body shivered in response until he got acclimated to it. usually he'd never attempt this with another person on the account of what happens when electricity meets water, but...he was actually holding it in!
he rose to the surface and shook his hair out of his face with an inhale of breath and a smile of amazement as he looked around the pool, the water was as it should be: calm, unbothered, unelectrified.
"Come in! It's safe, I promise!"
all he seemed to do was sleep; well, other than smoke, skip training, and avoiding people anyway. still, most of his days were spent stealing cat naps around the facilities-- because what else was he supposed to do to occupy his time-- so by the time night usually rolled around he was hardly ever tired. it wasn't a healthy habit but who fucking cared.
when cris had cornered him for a late night adventure his curiosity, and lack of having anything better to do, had him agreeing to tag along. their powers were no where near the same thing but they still shared a similarity; touch. a few mentors had told him to seek out other's with tactile powersets to see how they controlled them, to see if he could learn from them, but it always proved to be a waste of his time.
it never worked.
“yeah? you sure about that?” he mumbled, half teasing, as his eyes found cris in the water; his thoughts still lingering on the way he'd just watched him so carelessly strip out of his clothes.
“what if you're not the only one we should be worried about, sparky?”
Status: open Plot: Adam is doing Adam things. Is that terrifying or comforting?
One might assume he was atop Fortitude Hall to get a better signal to the satellites, but that would be a fallacy. Adam was capable of connecting to them nearly anywhere. Not that he often connected to space borne weapons of mass destruction.
But it was nice to remind the Powers That Be in the government who had the final say with them.
(and that he knew about them at all, considering how illegal they are)
Watching the starts tonight, he quietly sends an email to the appropriate entities. It's simple. Genius in it's simplicity, even. The email simply gives a 'naughty' gif once opened.
They'll know who sent it.
he had no business being up there, on the roof, but it had become a favorite escape of his after he had accidentally found a way to climb up there during his first week at fortitude hall. which was a bit ironic in a way. for someone so starved for connections and desperate to be seen, and remembered, he was only seemed comfortable when he was far removed like this.
tucking a cigarette between his lips, he pulled out his lighter as he walked near the edge of the roof. he rolled the wheel against the calloused pad of his thumb but rather than lighting his cigarette, he jumped when he saw movement out of the corner of his eyes; dropping his lighter over the edge all because, as it turned out, he wasn't actually alone up there.
shit.
“you don't happen to have a light on you, do you?” he questioned with a heavy sigh as he turned to face the other fully.