morriganxshaw

[morriganxshaw]

@buriedwithit ( for adrian )

The cemetery 'office' is hardly the most comfortable space to be in, but it's much better in the middle of an ash storm. He'd shed his protective suit in the entranceway, feeling a little bare in his vest and shorts but the only other person he's expecting to see is Joey. He's making a hot drink for himself, listening to the oddly loud entrance of Joey. Except when he turns around it's ... Adrian. "Oh." He wishes he had the ash mask on, because he can feel the way his cheeks warm at the sight of him. "Are you lost?"

[morriganxshaw]

@ofrevolvtions ( for bandit )

"Eugh—what the fuck?" Morrigan shouts through the muffle of his ash mask. He grabs a broom and with shaking hands (what if it has rabies) he begins to wave it towards the creature, "GET! SHOO!" he shouts, as scarily as he can.

[morriganxshaw]

The hate in his words isn’t obvious from the tone, but Morri can pick up on it all the same. Their first meeting in the graveyard slowly makes more sense, he knows he’ll pick over the moment again. He’d only really thought about the bright sparks from his smoke, the orange light showing only glimpses of his handsome, rugged face. Morri nods, some sign he’s listening. 

A small gasp is quickly stifled. He’d held onto the cue like a safety net. It’d have been a little embarrassing if Seth had taken it and simply continued. It’s worse that he puts it aside. The game is simply an excuse for them to be close. Seth drops all pretense. His shirt is gently tugged forwards. Morri follows, shoulders dropping forwards in an attempt to stop the fabric from being pulled over his collar. Instead it only brings him closer to Seth. Closer  to a cool breath of gin, to a face alarmingly close to his.

Embarrassingly, he squeaks.“Drinking,” he answers, he can’t stop looking at Seth’s mouth, “but I’m not great at that either.”

"Yeah, that asshole with the fancy headstone owned this place before me, then I guess when I finally kick it, I'll give the keys to some other asshole. Preferably a Van Meter, but hey, beggars can't be choosers, can they?" That long pause doesn't concern him, although he knows from decades of experience that hesitation like that is fraught with secrets. Seth finds himself wondering what exactly fills that space - maybe something that explains Morrigan's frayed nerves? - and then he wonders how long it'll take before he can ease the most interesting details out of him.

Seth slips the cue back out of Morrigan's hands, but instead of taking his turn he lays it down on the felt with a light, wooden thud. "I think I've heard a few things about the Irish," he muses, taking a deep pull of his drink before setting it on the table, too: his breath is still cold and gin-scented as Seth steps in close to Morrigan, one of his rough hands coming to gently grip into the grave digger's shirt. "So what do you think, are you better at drinking or kissing?"

[morriganxshaw]

It feels like talking to a particularly eloquent wild animal. What he imagines a particular aggressive, kicked dog would say if some kind stranger had finally taken pity on it. Handler. Spared my life. Is this what he sounds like to other people? Morri wonders with a heavy heaping of judgement. It’s embarrassing. The last person to judge anyone should be Morri. He regrets asking.

He pulls at his t-shirt collar, wishes he had a scarf or turtle neck. Something to cover up. The fear doesn’t fully go away, because thinking of Ed as some poor beaten dog only makes him more terrifying.  “I—ok.” He stutters out, uselessly. “I don’t know what to say to all of that.”

it was my dad. a foreign concept to ed, and yet so similar. the people that had raised him had also betrayed and caged him—but he had never had a parental relationship with them. never called anyone mom or dad. never even thought about it, until now. is that what they were? is that what he should have been, should be, calling them? "my handler, now. he was the one who designed it, i think." his collar, that is. before this it had been a lot of hopeful sedation, but he had started metabolizing it too quickly. it's hard to replace staff in that position. "he found me out there and spared my life." he leaves out the part where he had torn through several patrols, lost in a red haze ever since his untimely release. they were about to put him down like a rabid dog. try to, at least. "before that, i don't know. they were just people. none of them told me their names."

[morriganxshaw]

Look out of it! He hadn’t had anything to drink, he’s just like this. Morri wishes he’d had something because then he might have met V’s step forwards with at the very least not further backing away. “No!” he says a little too rushed. He holds out his hand, not close enough to touch, a simple hover near V’s chest as though to stop him moving closer. “I’ll get a tram, I’ll be fine.”

"Come to the next show, Morrigan! I'll give you a free front seat ticket!" He laughs a little, looking at the stumbling and awkward movements of a man that's all but toppling things over as he tries to leave the conversation. There's something there, the fugue of naivete upon meeting him that he laps up like a dog. It's why he likes the business; it's why he can never let go of it. "And you look a little out of it too," he comments, moving forward. "You sure you don't want me giving you a ride home?"

[morriganxshaw]

"Um, something light, please? A salad. I don't... is there a menu?" Morrigan is flinching as he goes through every thought out loud rather than giving himself a second to think. He's easily distracted with their kindness, 'hun' and their accent feeling so warm.

❝don't mention it.❞ laughed khadijah in earnest, dusting their hands as the flowers sat in their neat rearrangement. not as perfect as the brunette would like but it would have to do in the meantime. with a swagger in their step, they lead the blonde to a secluded area of the restaurant. reaching in the pocket of their chef's jacket to retrieve a small notepad and pen as they waited for the male to take a seat. ❝so, what will it be, hun?❞

[morriganxshaw]

"I'm ready to spin. I even said you're brave in a round about way, so, your turn." Morrigan can't believe the words are coming out of his own mouth. Instead of denying it, he let's his smile turn a little goofier. What's the worse that could happen?

"good. maybe one of these days you'll spin around and sit right back down again, huh?" he grins, teasing. hearing him laugh, adrian can't help but feel endeared, even emboldened. "it'll be a breeze from there. you'll be able to practice more than once a night, too."

[morriganxshaw]

The man looks positively perplexed. This mystery 'they' growing more ominous the longer he speaks. For a frightening moment of clarity, Morrigan realises that he might not be the one worse off in this situation. What a terrible thing to realise, for this stranger's sake more than anything. "Certain phrases trigger it." "There's no 'they'. It was my dad. And I—I keep it on myself. I want it on." Saying it out loud, without his voice wavering, feels like more awful a confession than this man could possibly understand the enormity of. "Who's they? Your they, I mean."

"all you have to do is think about it?" without meaning to, at that. ed wonders if he would feel the same in that position, but there's a road block between him and a different perspective. all he has is his own. "why didn't they make it... better, then? like mine? if they really didn't want want you to take it off. what if it came off on its own?"

[morriganxshaw]

Acknowledging the awkwardness has the fortunate side effect of making him feel less awkward! Who'd have thought? Not Morri. He laughs, the light teasing feeling very pointed but something he can half-smile at, too. "I'll sit tight till you finish. Promise."

"i'll try and remember that before i compliment you, then," he says, lightly teasing. "but i'm glad you'll at least hear me out before you get up." a pause, accompanied by half a smile. "you will hear me out, right? i won't stop you from getting up after, but if we're trying to practice, you've got to sit still until i've finished."

[morriganxshaw]

All Morri can do is laugh! Pretty! Sugar! Handsome! He probably looks unhinged the way he's walking backwards, pink as ever, and laughing away. "You—you're good at this!" Morri's ready to leave before he combusts from embarrassment but he's too out of sorts to really look where he's going. Instead he bumps his back into a chair and nearly topples it. "Cheers," he says as he rights the chair and avoids eye contact.

"People should tell you you're prettier, sugar." He winks at him again, enjoying the shade of pink that the man turns into as he swallows the compliment like a too-large pill. It's a different kind of thrill, talking to a fan, making them feel good, even making them feel good about themselves. It's nothing he'll ever trade for—not his former job at Sector Three, not his money, and maybe not even his security. "Maybe I'll have it be your start," Victor says, "You really are handsome! Own it!"

[morriganxshaw]

The proffered 'You're welcome' is given in a purr that Morrigan feels wholly unequipped to deal with. Paired with a once-over, Morri can only fidget and grip his own fingers tighter before getting the cue back. Perhaps if it'd been any earlier in the night, he would have considered running.

Instead Morrigan takes this moment to let out a big exhale he didn't realise he was holding. Glancing over his shoulder, he watches Seth head towards the bar. When he looks back at the pool table he can't hold it in: he laughs, abruptly and awkwardly. Is this what real people do? Adults with lives beyond the four walls of their homes, beyond the thumb of a punishing father.

Morri takes the shot, carefully, doesn't feel self conscious for long enough that the shot he takes is a damn decent one. Better for being without an audience. Seth arrives and he swaps the cue for the offered drink. A drink he quickly takes a large gulp of, wincing at the strength before Seth's questions derail any thoughts about the drink's shocking potency.

"Ireland," he answers a little quickly. There's little need for specifics, nowadays. What's the story? Has the real, honest truth springing to mind, but that's hardly something he should tell someone right off the bat? He's chewing over what to say, the pause long, as he considers the fact Billie might like people knowing that Morrigan has someone in his corner who would kill for him. "My brothers ended up here, so I followed. You, um, you always been here?"

"You're welcome." He purrs it, with plenty of unnecessary emphasis on each syllable: like hell he's gonna miss the chance to be melodramatic, and a brief once-over is the flirtatious prize for his companion's improvement. What is it about Morrigan that makes good manners sound so damn... good? "You go ahead, darlin'... I'll get you taken care of."

Seth lets Morri take his next turn, then, confident enough to leave his anxious little gravedigger alone in the annex without fear that he'll take the chance to bolt. There's a bar not too far away and he steps behind it to mix up the drinks himself, deciding on Morrigan's behalf to err on the stronger side... He's doing a good job learning how to relax, but it can always be achieved quicker, and Seth is more than happy to help him along. He comes sauntering back with a matching pair of gin and tonics, offers one to Morrigan as he cocks a hip up to lean against the table and sips at his own.

"So, Morri..." The nickname comes naturally, Seth's way of implementing familiarity between them without having to work for it. "What's the story, huh? Where were you before Sol City?"

[morriganxshaw]

Their accent is a startling surprise: warm and welcoming, but enough of a surprise given they're in Australia that he can nearly forget his nerves. At least his own Irish brogue feels less shocking in comparison. Morri nods, returns the grin with a lacklustre smile of his own. "Thanks," and he dutifully falls into step, not without a frown at their full hands, "Sorry if I interrupted you."

there's a sudden halt that stems from being addressed, khadijah in mid step; adjusting baskets of peonies that hung around their window panes. reds and pinks, contrasting with neutral palettes of the restaurant. pops of color surrounding its patrons and reminding them of the holiday up ahead. a subtle marketing tactic to draw up business. not that they need the help but valentine's is touchy for the lonely. so it's better to be safe than sorry. ❝booth just opened up if you're looking for some privacy.❞ they answered with a grin, texas drawl leaking from every word. ❝follow me.❞

[morriganxshaw]

( for @sassyspiced )

It's nothing. He keeps telling himself it's nothing. It isn't. It's a slight itch around his neck, a low level fever and subtle ache in his jaw. He'd refused to go back to the pharmacy, refused to let Billie even look at his neck. She'd pestered too much and he'd not eaten... so he'd snuck out as Billie fell asleep, ready to try and force down something. Fidgeting at the door, he peers around, looking for a small corner he could hide himself in away from any other patrons. "Um, excuse me? Is this a seat yourself sorta place?"

[morriganxshaw]

Seth continues with such ease, it's like nothing happened. Morri fiddles with his own hands now the cue isgone. He watches Seth bend down for the shot, lets his gaze linger on his hands as though he were focusing intently on how to improve his own technique.

Saying it sounds better, Morri obediently nods. Enthusiastically, even. He likes this, being gently complimented and guided to say the right thing rather than scolded for saying the wrong thing. The cue is offered, and a cue fro waht to say. With a smile he says, "Thanks." And waits for the 'You're welcome.'

"Yes, please," he keeps his attention on the table and his cue, a faint buzz at the use of his nickname, "Gin, please. If you have any."

Just as suspected, Morrigan takes to the subtle suggestion of control like a fish to water: there's no complaint as he's guided down close to the table, executing each of Seth's instructions to the letter. That little breath that buffets the felt indicates his surprise at Seth's boldness, but there's nothing wrong with surprise... it's what keeps things interesting, like being blindfolded and suddenly feeling an ice cube dragged across your skin.

Morrigan stands because Seth's hand has left him, and this time he watches the results of the break with more interest, giving a satisfied whistle as the balls come to their resting positions. "Alright, that's more like it!" Seth slips the cue out of Morrigan's hands and moves around to the opposite side of the table, bending to take his own shot. "Thanks... I like that. Sounds way better than 'sorry', huh?" His turn is quick and easy: he's played enough pool to consider himself a bit of an expert, but he doesn't show off too much, getting the job done with just a simple ricochet and sink into the corner pocket. Seth offers up the cue again with a wink. "And when you say 'thanks', I get to say 'you're welcome'. Can I get you a drink, Morrigan?"

[morriganxshaw]

The touch on his shoulder makes Morri want to melt into him. He's not necessarily touch-starved but touch hungry. He hugs Billie but it's not the same. Not the same electric thrill that is a guy touching him and telling him in a round about way he's... good looking? It feels like a cruel joke and insanely flattering all at once. Morri even stumbles back, face turning bright pink, "Yeah, no! I wouldn't know." He says with embarrassed laughter, reaching to touch the shoulder V had just patted.

He laughs, actually laughs as the flustered look of the man resolves into something resembling a smile. There it is. The unwinding, almost as fun as when he strings along socialites in a dark nightclub. Almost. "I do, but a guy can't really get tired of hearing about it, can he?" Victor pats the man's shoulder and shakes his head. A momentary touch, but enough to at least maybe give the guy something to think about. "I mean, you should know, right?"

[morriganxshaw]

Morrigan didn't expect to get this far. Adrian is embarrassed, but taking the attempt at a compliment in stride despite saying he's out of practice. Is this... flirting? Successfully? Morri almost wants to ask if that is actually what's happening right now, but he'll pretend to have some dignity. "Definitely. If you try to give me a compliment I'll probably just leave without saying a word." He jokes. Half-jokes.

the idea brings a disarmed smile to his face. compliments. it's like he'd never heard of the concept before. "oh," he says, a little sheepish. a lot sheepish, shy of embarrassed. "well, as you can see... i'm not very good at accepting those. but i'll give it my best shot." something has told him—yeah, morri himself, more or less—that his opposite isn't used to extended conversation. it's not a judgement. he's not bad at talking, he just has the air of someone who thinks they are. "maybe i'm just out of practice. you think that can happen?"

[morriganxshaw]

Clearly they're coming from very different places. Morri at least feels less afraid,more curious. He doesn't know what to say about his own issues but he'll talk about himself. "I, um, don't have good control over it," he admits, sheepishly. The only reason he continues to explain is the fear this feral looking man may have the ability to break off his collar, "All I gotta do is say or think something and it can hurt them."

none of it makes any sense to him. "i don't know, sometimes. but sometimes i just do it." it's hard to shake purpose from a trapped mind—he was designed to kill mutants, so what's what he does. "but it's not the only thing this does. it keeps me from running away, too. i'd rather—" he breaks off, frowning. "i'd rather have it off. why do you hurt people without it?"