ursiiformes

"Speaking of warm hands, how much is the going rate for a Council member’s hand? I mean, in instant coffee terms, how many grams do you want in return for ripping into one of them?"

"i wonder if i could trade someone a hand warmer for an extra thirty-ish grams of instant coffee... what d'you think?"

He'd never played whack-a-mole before. Hell, he wasn't entirely sure what a mole was. But with a mallet in-hand and explicit permission to swing, he was one happy man. The game whirred to life. Plastic creatures popped out of the console, their speed increasing with playtime. Was it cheating to use his enhanced speed? Maybe. Had he struck the clanging creatures so hard, one split straight down the middle? Perhaps. But, he'd thrown his head back with a delighted laugh over the novelty of it all. He picked a large, white cat plush hanging on the prize wall and demanded the employee watch it while he played another round. Every bash made him erupt into giggles. He didn't know what it was, if it was the ridiculousness of the concept or the glee of his inner hunter. But he looked over his shoulder, sneaking a glance at the next person in line. "One more round, I swear," he said. "Then you can--ah, fuck! Royal?"

royal had hopped on the line for this game mostly to fill some time, but as soon as alvie starts swinging it becomes a whole other kind of entertainment. at least for him. something about alvie's joy is contagious. royal finds himself smiling, and he can't seem to stop. maybe it's how they met that makes it feel like such a gift to see him let loose and have fun. he doesn't feel too bad about the machine, either, the thing was rigged. "alvie! it's good to see you!" all of a sudden, the other man is wearing an expression royal has seen plenty of times before - every single time he caught one of his mom's cats reaching into the fish tank. it's making it hard to keep a straight(ish) face, but he doesn't want alvie to think he's laughing at him. it's just that he's ridiculously endearing. "you seem like you're havin' a good time, go on and play another round. i don't think-" a quick glance over his shoulder confirms it, "yeah we got nobody else waiting, so why not?"

Running his tongue over his teeth, he dragged its limp, hog-tied body past the threshold. "Blackout curtains? Do you hibernate?" he asked. For once, he didn't ask with the intent to tease. But, the thought of Royal -- so big, so tall -- snoozing the months away does amuse him. His lips curled, a mean flash of canine in what could appear as a sneer. "Don't worry, I can clean it if you fall asleep," he laughs. "I used to hunt for my siblings all the time. Tell me your favorite cut."

the extent of alvie's restraint may be lost on him, but he can easily tell it was a clean, quick kill. "good hunting," he says, a certain amount of admiration, maybe even praise, coloring his tone. he's not surprised though. alvie's like him, a hunter to the core. "i'll make sure none of it goes to waste," royal promises. he chuckles at alvie's question and decides to humor him. what's the harm in a little curiosity, after all? "not exactly, but uh, 'm a real heavy sleeper." he also gets super sleepy when it gets too cold, but that's so rare here in sol city it's hardly worth mentioning. that little peek of fang in the other man's smile is more charming than anything else to royal, but maybe when you have a set of your own it changes your perspective a little. "i'm not gonna fall asleep," he says with mock indignation. it may or may not be a lie. sleep still clings to the very edges of his consciousness, but for now the novelty - and dare he say, excitement - of having alvie here is enough to keep him quite awake right now. and then he starts asking about cuts of meat and an entirely different portion of his brain gets activated. before he can answer, his stomach growls loudly. he looks down at it, then up at alvie, and bursts out laughing. "yeah, definitely not falling asleep now. i'll take one of those tenderloins as soon as you get in there, if you don't mind." its rare that he has company he feels comfortable eating raw in front of, but he gets the feeling alvie won't mind. "how many siblings do you have?" it's sweet to imagine him taking care of them like that.

there's a jingle. and a choked out little noise escapes him as all of his plans are thrown out the window, and he loses his balance, leaning onto his 'victim'. the buzzing under his clothes should be quiet, if the remote he's given that lucky person is used well. this time, however, to anyone in his closer vicinity, it would be easy to hear, as it is cranked up to the max. "oh... ffffuck–" his knees go weak at the unrelenting vibration against that sweet spot, and he's practically clinging onto the other now, cursing hunter for doing this to him (as if he didn't tell him to do his worst beforehand).

royal noticed the jester about five jingles ago. they don't seem to know that he knows they're there, and he's waiting, planning to grab the would-be thief by the wrist as soon as his watch slips free. what he's not planning for is his sudden armful of jingling stranger, their fingers twisting in a desperate grip on the leather of royal's jacket. the way he swears catches royal's attention fast. it may not be a voice he recognizes, but he'd know that tone anywhere. and that buzzing.... "well now, you're up to all kinds of mischief tonight, aren't you?" a low chuckle rumbles in his chest and the little jester's bells jingle again as royal stands them upright. one hand stays wrapped around his forearm, half steadying and half to keep him from getting away. underneath his mask, a grin spreads across his face as interest coalesces into something akin to temptation. "is that someone else's phone in your back pocket or are you running on battery power for this party?"

Well. Victor isn't the person for this sort of emotion—he's the guy you call when you need drugs, or when you need an invite to a party. This is different, and an ill-practiced moment for him. Though, he owes it to Royal to at least try, the big grizzled man that he is, and sighs internally. Floating beside him, he at least puts an arm around his frame and shakes his head, "I mean, state of emergency within the city and all, right?" Victor surmises, looking at the deeply etched lines of sadness on the man's face. That doesn't look right to him—as if everything's been shoved an inch to the left. "Being in a lot of emergency's probably not good for the soul; it's why I sing. I don't know if it'll help, but you should at least tell me the laundry list. Maybe it'll be a load off your shoulders."

more than anything, royal wants to lean his full weight into victor's touch and let someone else hold him together up for a few minutes. vic radiates warmth like a miniature sun. it's nice. comforting. so he presses a little closer, unashamed of his present clinginess. "yeah." another sigh escapes him. "it's... definitely not." there were times when his work was wildly fulfilling and rewarding, but that feels so far away right now. without thinking, royal slides his hand into vic's and laces their fingers together as he starts to talk. somehow, that seems to be what he needs to start the words flowing. once they are, it's hard to stop, and royal lays it all out under victor's light. the too-long shifts, the sleepless nights, the coworker that just refuses to pull their weight — and the rest of it, too. the things he sees, the smells, the voices of the dying. the nightmares where the bleeding won't stop no matter how much pressure he puts on and every time he looks up its someone else's face, his neighbor, his mom, kalani, their son..... "i don't think i can do it anymore." he hates how fragile his voice sounds. "but if i just- i know i can't save everyone but if i just give up then what good am i?"