lorenzosal

[lorenzosal]

annie-perrault​:

the blues | lorenzo & annie

[Of all the things to spring to mind, Annie finds herself thinking about Yes Man. And how, possibly, there was a life lesson in that film. Annie always says no to things, always always, because she’s frightened of… everything. She’s frightened of getting hurt, or of being mocked, or of making a mistake, so she just says no. If she ever does say ‘yes’, it’s because her politeness obliges her.

She always figured if she started saying yes to things, maybe it would just be a slippery slope towards some Jim Carey-esque chaos. But, she said yes to Lorenzo’s offer to dance, and she is actually having fun. She’s already very excited to go back to the dorm and tell the girls about this afterwards. Who says Annie can’t be wild and unpredictable?  (By her own standards, at least. She’s aware this is in no way wild by a regular twenty two year old’s standards)

Lorenzo seems genuinely enthused by the spin, which enthuses Annie by turn. He takes her hand to spin her back, once, twice, until they almost knock into each other; and it’s not awkward or weird, it’s just funny, and Annie laughs breathlessly. He’s not let go of her hand this time, which makes her stomach lurch. She has to scold herself for immediately worrying about whether her hand is sweaty or if he’s going to try and trip her up now or if he’s going to turn out to be a scary guy that tries to push her past her limits. She needs to stop thinking the worst of people. He’s given her no reason to think anything bad is going to happen.

He asks for another song, and Annie hesitates. She’s not sure why, other than the fact that she is just naturally inclined to say no to situations she’s not totally comfortable with. But, she’d said yes to one song and the only consequence was that she had fun – so, she nods.]

This is fun! [She grins, big and a little goofy, clearly already far more relaxed than she was at the start. Less a deer in the headlights now, more a shy new kitten coming out to bat tentatively at a foil ball. She’s still not exactly looking at Lorenzo, but she is at least not shaking in panic as they dance. Annie’s gaze is over Lorenzo’s shoulder; the pub is quite full, but very few people are dancing. Certainly not as enthusiastically as Annie and Lorenzo are.] I think people are staring.

[She’s a little uncertain as she says it, a little bit laughing. Annie isn’t good at being the centre of attention, and she’s not sure how she feels about people seeing her awkward attempts at dancing. Lorenzo looks cool and comfortable, if undignified. Annie’s pretty sure she just looks gawky.]

.

[Lorenzo sees the hesitation in the girl's eyes, for that brief moment. He's not sure if he should let her go or work in a little friendly peer pressure -- because sometimes it was a good thing, yes, he'd stand by that. Sometimes people just needed a little push to come out of their shells, there was nothing wrong with offering said push. But then again, that worked better when they were all stupid teenagers in boarding school, and not probably traumatized adults post-apocalypse.

Before he can decide which way to go, she's nodding, and he grins back at her easily. He would hate to miss his dancing partner after just one song, even if he had promised that at first.]

That's the spirit! [He celebrates, and his smile only dies a little when she points out people staring. Lorenzo is absolutely ready to square up to anyone laughing at them, or, alternatively, he'll gladly accept anyone ogling -- his head swiftly turns around to look over his shoulder with no discretion.

Instead, he doesn't find anything too concerning. Sure, some people seem to glance, their eyes quickly averted when he looks back at them, but it doesn't seem evil. Maybe she's seen something that he was too slow to catch.] Well, [he turns back to her with an easy smile, sips his drink before offering it back to her. They'll be sharing 50/50 at this point, he doesn't care.] If they are, tell them to kiss my ass. Probably jealousy, eh?

[lorenzosal]

bear-little-loss​:

early birds | lorenzo + orson

[The worst part is this. This, here, is the worst of it. Worse than the visions themselves, even, the pain and the torture there behind his shut-tight lids. The worst part is the way people look at him when they see this. The fear and confusion, and the way he feels sick at the idea of explaining to them why. He hates this part. More than anything, this part makes him hate himself. 

He genuinely feels bad for Lorenzo—and the feeling is exacerbated, of course, by the fact that he’s just seen what is sure to be the most terrifying day of the bloke’s life—and the last. He can’t stop shaking, and long after the visions go, he can still hear the echo of the waves, of Lorenzo’s hoarse yells, or a young girl’s gurgled cries. 

That vicious, ugly flat line tone. 

He wishes more than anything he could melt right down into the wooden slats of this bench. Drip to the floor, then go straight through it, soak into the earth like rain water and disappear. He wants to disappear. He wants to not feel this anymore. Feeling this is too much, it hurts too much because he can do nothing to help it, or to stop it, or to change it. 

Lorenzo has been stopping and starting in his distressed ramble and though Orson hasn’t heard it all properly, his ears still ringing painfully, he catches the latter end of it and shakes his head. His trembling fingers come up to rub new tears off his cheeks again—though he thinks that now that the emotion has swept through him like a tidal wave, he’s reaching that familiar phase of pallid shock again.] 

No, you didn’t do anything. You didn’t—it’s not your fault, [he manages, clearing his throat. His voice feels hoarse too, almost as though it’s he who’d done the hollering of her name. 

Sophia. Sophia. Sophia.]

I’m sorry. I’m so—God, I’m sorry. You didn’t know. I wasn’t—I usually react faster. I’m sorry. [It’s not much of an explanation, and he already knows he can’t offer much in the way of explanation. He won’t. He won’t do that. He couldn’t ruin this young man’s life like that.] It’s not you—I just can’t touch people. Not with bare skin. You didn’t know. I’m sorry you—I’m sorry I yelled. 

[Orson is crying, actively and continuously crying, and Lorenzo's face twists into something that probably looks a lot like annoyance but that's not quite it. He is not good at this, he wants to run out the door and possibly never go anywhere near Orson again, to try and avoid this situation from ever repeating itself. He can barely deal with Sofia when she cries, all he does is fuss and try not to cry with her.

It's not your fault, he says, and the Torren almost feels the need to scoff. Clearly, it kind of was, but he's not about to argue when he doesn't even know what happened in the first place.

And then he's apologizing, and if things weren't incredibly confusing already, they sure as shit are now.] What-- wait, fuck, this is-- [he can't even finish a sentence, his brain working faster than his tongue, which is a first. He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighs as Orson babbles on and tries to make any sense of what is currently going on between them.

His ankles ache from keeping him up, so he sits down on the ground for good now, knees bent, arms resting over them.] Okay-- you can't touch people? No-- it's fine, man, stop apologizing. It's fine. [He means that, to his own surprise. It doesn't feel like Orson should be the one apologizing. If the word 'sorry' came any easier to him, Lorenzo would be the one saying it.] You just scared the shit out of me, is all. Holy fuck. I thought you were... having a seizure or something? I don't know. Shit.

[Now that his heart has slowed down from 'heart attack risk' to 'you've just run a marathon', his mind seems to catch up better. He wants to ask what the fuck is up, but he doubts Orson will give him any concrete answers now, still looking so freaked out. The only thing he can imagine is that this might be some sort of OCD issue and he doesn't know enough about that to even begin to contest.] Okay, it's-- fine now. Right? You good? Should I... get someone? [Someone who's better equipped to deal with this? Which is literally anyone but him?] 

[lorenzosal]

mouse--quinley​:

the pledge, the turn, the prestige | mouse & lorenzo

[He might be tempted to feel left out of the conversation when Sofia and Lorenzo talk to each other, but he’s had a while to get used to Olly and the Pup doing the exact same to him, but in Welsh. Faith, however, does look with interest at the pair of them while they’re in conference—or at least Mouse can tell as much, but they might not. Her expression only flickers from scrutinizing them to a softer curiosity for a moment on the surface.] 

[When Lorenzo passes on the compliment, her hand shoots to her hair and Mouse has to quickly smother a smile before it shows. She’s completely surprised to hear it, and really bad at covering how pleased she is. He doesn’t know if he’s ever seen her thrown like that. Her face reddens and she slouches in her seat. ‘Yeah, ‘kay.’]

[Mouse raises an eyebrow pointedly and she adds in a reluctant mutter: ‘Tell her I like her curly hair too, I guess.’ Then she truly brightens up, peering at the younger girl like there’s an opportunity for influence here that she’s only just realizing. ‘Could cut hers, if she wants. Was thinkin’ of doin’ colours on mine, too.’] 

[Colours?] This’s news to me. [He has to wonder who’s going to be paying for whatever bleach and dyes she was thinking of using, and how much work is going into all of it, but bites his tongue. There’s only a certain amount of disapproval he can give before he starts feeling like a old boring jerk who’s ruining all her fun. And a minute later he relaxes—although her mystery pain is itching at the back of his head, he lets it go for now in favour of tugging thoughtfully at his own hair.] Think I could pull off some bright blue, or somethin’? 

[Sofia seems a little confused at the way the girl reacts -- first surprised, and then looking so defeated by it --, and Lorenzo figures she probably can't read emotions all that well yet, especially when she can't understand anything Pup is saying. But then the compliment comes, and that helps. He translates it back, and Sofia is hilariously unaffected by it. She says 'oh, gracias', and pushes her curls back, like she hears it all the time and is bored by it. She always has a way of behaving like a tiny adult diva.]

Oh, colors, huh? I think she might be a little too young for that, [Lorenzo laughs, absolutely not translating that part because he knows Sofia will cry about it for days and he can never say 'no' to her. And he doesn't think it's safe to bleach a four-year-old's hair. If it was any lighter and there were safe dyes out there these days, then maybe, but still. He doubts the dyes these days are of much quality.

At Mouse's question, he grins.] I really think you would. Honest. Wouldn't he? [He asks Pup that last part, then turns to Sofia to ask her about it, too. She nods excitedly before rambling on for a moment.] She thinks Pup would look cool in pink. And she thinks my color is orange.

[lorenzosal]

the blues | lorenzo & maisie

@therealmaisiepace​

[Maisie turns around with a hesitant smile. She points to herself, mouthing “Me?” but it doesn’t look like he meant it for anyone else. With a slight shrug, she walks over to join him on the dance floor. Sofia isn’t with him, but that’s probably for the best. Catch 22 isn’t really appropriate for a toddler, anyway. She guesses he asked someone to babysit, just like she’s done a couple of times already. He deserves to let off some steam now and then; taking care of a child 24/7 would be a challenge for anyone, even for someone as dedicated and protective as he is. In fact, she wouldn’t have minded at all of Lorenzo had asked her to babysit tonight. She would tell Sofia made up fairy tales, sometimes making the little girl’s dolls act out the storylines by using her Telekinesis.

They always have the greatest time together, but Maisie still isn’t sure how Lorenzo feels about her. Being Infected colored his opinion of her, obviously, but he still treated her with grudging respect, probably because his sister liked her. But now that Sofia isn’t here, there’s no one to stop him from being rude to her. (Sigh. How pathetic is it to depend on a toddler to stop people from walking all over you?) Well, isn’t being rude now, at least.]

You don’t have to dare me. [She smiles.] I’d be perfectly happy to dance with you.

[Maisie likes dancing. As Jane Austen had rightly said, to be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love.]

What does joder mean? [She remembers the Spanish lessons he’d promised to give her in exchange for teaching Sofia English; now seems like an okay time to start.]

[Of course Lorenzo means to call Maisie over, who else would it be?

He likes hanging out with her, he’ll admit. Sofia really likes her. It turns out that in Colony 22, it’s much harder to hold onto his NWRF-aligned beliefs because… well, to be honest, he’s just lonely. It’s hard to force himself to dislike people because of their infection status when he doesn’t have any other people to hang out with. Besides, on top of that, it’s been years now since the incident that left him with such a hatred (read: fear) for the Infected, it’s getting difficult to let it affect him. So much has happened since then. Sofia happened since then.

So, yes, he’s letting himself not overthink hanging out with Maisie, just as he hangs out with Alois. Maybe he’ll think about it some other time. When he’s not tipsy with bad alcohol and wanting to dance the night away.]

Ah, a woman of good taste, then! I was starting to think I'd have to bribe someone to dance with me, this place is so dead, [he grins at her, his free hand stretched out to catch hers and pull her close while he sips the drink still in the other hand.

And then she asks what joder means, and he almost chokes on the alcohol.] Oh, no-- I don't know why, but it sounds a lot more obscene when you say it, [a snicker leaves him, and he almost feels like apologizing. And this is coming from the guy whose toddler sister has the mouth of a sailor. It just feels weird to hear someone who doesn't know the language say it.] It means fuck. 

[lorenzosal]

lissy-mccall​:

Lonesome | Lissy & Lorenzo

[[  Lorenzo compliments her. She doesn’t believe him. Now he takes comically long to ‘think’.

This sharp-faced so-and-so is planning something. She kind of enjoys it though. Discovering that chess can be a bit of a psychological game is a thrilling idea — if she understood it well enough she’d probably get good at it.

Lissy bites down on a smile. She has no damn idea what to do now. She almost goes to move the Bishop but then remembers it can only move diagonally. It’s an unconscious movement, Lissy pointing a finger vaguely at the board, trying to map out where she could move a piece and then think where any of the current pieces in play could go.

It’s a losing battle. She moves a random pawn of hers forward. ]] You’re up to something but I don’t know enough about chess to say what. How are you turning chess into… psychological… mind games. [[ Lissy knows she sounds dumb, but right now, she’s embracing it. She’s meant to be a little dumb, a little silly, she’s young and enjoyed being a more light-hearted person before D-Day. ]]

[Lorenzo practically buzzes with anticipation. There are very few things more satisfying than delivering a check-mate, it doesn't matter that he didn't have to work hard for his at all. Details.

He watches her move a random pawn up and grins to himself.] Chess is a psychological mind game. You should add that to the instructions. [He almost feels like he needs to apologize for how quickly he's about to end their first game -- but, of course, he's not going to. She's the one who agreed to this.]

And you're gonna hate to hear this, but, [he moves his queen over, tapping one, two, three squares until he can take one of her pawns and corner her king.] Checkmate.

[lorenzosal]

Say something honest you've never said before.

I miss... having something solid, relationship-wise. Someone to lean against, someone to ride or die with. I grew up with that kind of thing, the guys from school; the shit boarding school put us through, it ended up bonding us closer than you'd expect. I don't miss them, but I miss that. The support and all that. Platonically or, sometimes, also not. Yeah. Just... having someone.

[lorenzosal]

What element would you say you are most like?

Fire. I'm an Aries.

[lorenzosal]

Are you actively going to try and snag an Elite position? How would you approach that?

I mean, I just got here, but yeah, that's the big plan. I'm still adjusting, and still figuring out where I could fit better. Once I find something, I'll approach the NWRF about it. Ideally, in my wildest fantasy, I just see someone fucking up at their job and rat them out to the officials, gaining their respect and then stealing that job position for myself. Minimal work on my part.

[lorenzosal]

If you were to become an Elite, what role would you be interested in?

Why, are you offering? I'm not picky, coño. I'd take anything -- it's more about the position of power than the job itself, we all know that. I could be anything between Head of Security or a goddamn Spanish teacher, whatever gets me up there.

[lorenzosal]

Are you a jealous person?

What, in relationships? Yeah. Big history of being jealous. Even though I've never had a serious thing. But, you know -- if you're not willing to throw hands at someone trying to steal your loved one, then are you really in love? I raise you that question. A little jealousy is healthy, come on.

[lorenzosal]

Do you think you'd ever seek out a formal/Elite position within the NWRF?

Of course. At least having a position in the elite team, having a suite, even -- that would be good for Sofia. I'd like to have a safer position, give her a better life in here. That's the end goal, anyway.

[lorenzosal]

What's a mistake you've made you hope Sofia doesn't repeat?

I mean, shit, I hope she doesn't repeat any mistake of mine. That's just part of the experience of being an older brother, I think -- thank god we're still very far from drinking age. I'd say it's still a decade, at least, before she starts making the mistakes I'll have to worry about.

[lorenzosal]

FMK: Annie, Maisie, Alois

Well, given these current circumstances, Alo has to go. Sorry, dude. Marry Maisie and Fuck Annie. Easy.

@alois-the-real-boy @therealmaisiepace @annie-perrault

[lorenzosal]

alois-the-real-boy​:

FROM YESTERDAY || alois & lorenzo

[[ Like Lorenzo, Alois spent so much of his youth innocently tangled with friends that this comes not just as a relief, but as a blessing. With zero hesitation and almost without thinking about it, he sneaks his arm to hook under Lorenzo’s, fortunate for them both that it’s his right and not the robotic left. Similarly without prompting, his cheek and temple incline the rest of the way to come to light on his companion’s shoulder. He may not have the luxury of being as sleepy as Lorenzo as quickly, but to have someone warm to lean into with a tone in such soothing registers, it’s a damn good start.

Alois feels the hum from the center of Lorenzo’s chest almost as much as he hears it, which is saying something; the sensation is enough to send a little trickle down his spine, one he barely suppresses before it develops into a shiver.

An indelicate chuckle bubbles up from his throat at the Terminator commentary. ]] I don’t know if you’re going for uniqueness points, but you’d have to try harder than a Terminator reference. [[ Alois legitimately wonders if there’s a popular culture comparison he hasn’t heard. Stepford references were the most prolific and the most exhausting; yes, his family has blond hair and blue eyes, he gets it. ]] But, no. Leave it to the meek braniacs to come in last. [[ Not that there was a single person alive who would refer to Alois as meek. He doesn’t divorce himself from his house or insist he doesn’t belong there, but there are certainly personality traits of his that are clear outliers to the stereotype. ]]

Maybe next time it’ll be something we can win. Like a book reading contest. [[ Alois’ eyes are closed, but a clear smile is sneaking into his voice. ]] You’ll just have to make sure there are ones with plenty of pictures for a lot of your brawns-over-brains companions.

[Lorenzo appreciates the arm hooking around his, and he tips his own head to rest against Alois'. It muffles his hearing on one ear, and it might put a strain on his neck if he holds like this for long, but he can deal with that.]

I was not going for originality, but I'll do my best to step it up. Cut me some slack, we just reunited, there are years of bad jokes to catch up on, [he chuckles, a quiet sound shared in their bubble of warmth. He feels like speaking any louder would be disrupting their peace, and this is a nice change. He doesn't do a lot of this anymore, these days, just lounging around, being lazy, being quiet. His life is a lot of running around ever since Sofia learned how to toddle around. It's also a lot of screaming since she found out how to speak.

The comment on books with images makes him laugh again, and he pinches Alois' knee lightly in retaliation, though he leans impossibly closer to make up for it immediately.] I'm not even gonna argue with that, actually. I do prefer books that heavily feature images, myself, [he jokes.] I'm a man of taste. Brains are overrated.

[Their conversation lulls into more peaceful silence, and Lorenzo looks down at the space they meet, Alois' arm tangled up with his. He can just get a peek of the other's house tattoo, the glaring red ink on the skin. He traces his fingertips up to it and taps the edge of the emblem.] Can I ask? [The question is genuinely unpretentious, unexpecting. He can say no and Lorenzo won't miss a beat. He just wants to know what infection it is; some sort of morbid curiosity, and some attempt to find a way of not grouping Alois in with his ex-friends. He'd already figured, from the last time they talked. He's just hoping to hear what it is and find a way to excuse it in his mind. He likes Alois. He doesn't want to pull away.]

[lorenzosal]

[lorenzosal]

annie-perrault​:

the blues | lorenzo & annie

[Lorenzo – it suits him, even if Annie would never dream of saying it. It’s a little bit fancy, a little bit exciting. She always feels conscious of how mousy her own name is when she meets new people: Annie is a meek name for a meek girl, and she can’t even claim that it’s short for something more interesting, like Annabel or Annette. She’s just Annie.

At least it suits her. Nobody could expect her to be too much fun once she’s introduced herself.

Compliments are always a strange thing for Annie, and she sways like a pendulum between being far too easily flattered, and being intensely suspicious that she’s being mocked. And she’s kind of leaning towards the latter when Lorenzo asks if she does this often because she’s doing great – because she knows she’s not, and he knows it too. But when she looks at him, she doesn’t think she sees any maliciousness. Not that Annie’s a particularly good judge of character.

It’s definitely possible that she’s just letting him flatter her. But sometimes Annie’s guard drops, and she forgets for a few moments that she’s in a nightmare. She’s not thinking he’s probably waiting to laugh at her with his friends, she’s just thinking it’s actually kind of fun to just… move with the music. Annie never really dances, apart from in the privacy of the dorm where she trusts that Maisie will dance bigger and goofier than her.] 

I’m sure you can tell that I don’t do this often. [She laughs, and accepts another sip of Lorenzo’s completely gross drink with a moment’s less hesitation than before. He seems like he maybe just, really does like to share. Some people have gotten like that lately, since D-Day – like sharing the few things they have makes them feel more human, or more connected somehow. It doesn’t taste any better the second time round, this drink. It’s probably not the watery alcohol that emboldens her, but rather Lorenzo being encouraging: and she finds herself taking his hand to spin him around, just once, before letting him go just as fast. It was already a solid few steps outside of her comfort zone, she’s not going to let the moment linger – but this is more fun than she’d originally anticipated, from the way her stomach had dropped when Lorenzo first flagged her down. This is… kind of nice.] 

[Lorenzo tsk's his tongue at her comment, shaking his head to dismiss her opinion on the matter. He's not one to commonly lie to protect someone's feelings or offer some encouragement, but she looks sweet and he's in a good enough mood tonight. He's a great liar, might as well use it for good, sometimes. He won't make it a habit.

Besides, as long as she keeps dancing with him and sipping his drink, she's good enough company and he'll do his best to keep her around. And maybe do his best to get her (responsibly) drunk, too. She looks like she could use it. He's planning to offer some other mumbojumbo of encouragement as he sips his drink, but before he can get it out, Annie is taking his hand and spinning him -- and then promptly letting go like this was the wildest thing she's ever done --, and it's honestly too endearing.]

You got the spirit! [He beams, and wastes no time in catching her hand in his again. He spins her around, once, before spinning with her the next time, so their hands twist weirdly and their elbows almost awkwardly knock together in the process, in the most innocently fun way. To be fair, this is stupid fun, and he can't remember the last time he danced like this. It's silly, he likes it. He doesn't let go of her hand when they continue dancing, now.] Told you this was fun. Come on, [he spins them both again, as the song starts its last chorus -- the one song she had promised.] Give me another song?