we both die leone you can't make me feel bad for you
[Anyway KNOCK KNOCK bitch here he is, and oh, hello, not unchanged after all: with irises swirled in prismatic fractions, sharpened teeth and hints of blackened scales here and there, only vaguely hidden beneath a tank top. His gaze is heated, but maybe that's just a heightened sense of irritation.]
[Maybe he'd be a bit more surprised if he didn't just recently bone a dragon guy, but it's still weird to see Polnareff like this. It's also kind of weirdly hot but he's not getting into that anytime soon.]
Not like you're gonna be happier about it if I say please.
[But oh, thank god, and he kicks the door behind him. The second he grips his hand it's a relief-- like a shower, really, like stepping under hot water after a fight. Oh, that's what he's been missing, and he slumps back against the wall, as nearby Chariot flickers to life. He's there for just a moment, sword held awkwardly, eyes similarly fractured-- but then he's gone. Best not to use up all his energy just as he gets it, right?
He isn't aware he isn't returning the favor, but then again, it's not like he's an expert around here.]
[Look, he isn't the cuddliest person around, but he's also gotten laid a few times and snuggled his fair share of people. So he considers himself an expert!]
You're gonna need to do a lot more to get more chroma. How long were you planning on using Chariot? [Not to make it weird, but he's lacing their fingers together.]
[It's slightly weird, but only if he thinks about it. Whatever. There's a lot he's willing to do for Chariot.]
Well, he's my Stand, so . . . pretty much anytime I gotta fight a sexy squid.
[Fine, two hands, then, that definitely will be enough. Except no, not really, and he scowls. This is, perhaps, heading in an inevitable direction, but on the other hand, it's not like this would be any less awkward with Kakyoin or Avdol. Probably more so; at least he barely knows (and knows intimately, all at once) Abbacchio.]
I mean, I could fight em without him. But why bother, right? Come on.
[Guess they're heading further into his lair, because Polnareff's outright tugging him forward, hand still held, looking for a couch or a bed or somewhere they can at least touch slightly more without being as awkward.]
[must be nice having a battle stand!! but no, he's stopped being bitter about that a long time ago. so instead he just sighs and shrugs helplessly because that means you need a lot of chroma guy.
Abbacchio SCOWLS when he's dragged away, but Polnareff is in luck and there is definitely a black leather couch. They're definitely holding hands while sitting on the couch.]
You get more chroma from other shit, you know. Handholding is bottom tier, if you plan on using Chariot that much.
[This is very weird. Not bad, but weird. Like they're parodying shitty puritan culture or whatever, holding hands chastely on the couch. Which, again, not bad, but he's also been restless these past few days, fighting too hard, nearly vibrating out of his skin with something that isn't quite energy.]
[It might, honestly, except now he's determined to win this fight, so obviously he's not going to say no. But hugging, hm, how are they gonna do that on a couch . . . like, obviously there's ways and ways, but if the goal is body contact . . .]
Hey, turn around.
[Because maybe it'll just be easier if Abbacchio leans up against him. He turns sideways, back to one of the couch's arms, legs bracing wider. Just, like, lay up on him or whatever.]
[He rolls his eyes, although he doesn't know why, and grabs Abbacchio's shoulder to yank him back between his legs. There. That's a hell of a lot more chroma now, and he's actually a little overwhelmed by it, because, well--
--well, holding hands with Kakyoin is a far cry from this. Christ.]
[This is definitely not exactly what he expected. Abbacchio's eyes widen a little, his back stiffening mostly from surprise, then he slowly settles his weight against Polnareff.]
[Much better. And the instant it hits, it's a lot harder to focus on why he was so stiff in the first place. Like, yeah, okay, it's slightly weird, but not honestly the strangest thing he's gone through here. For crissake, he's sporting scales, and the less said about his teeth, the better.
Abbacchio's all lean muscle, his frame narrower but no less powerful. He's so long, though, long legs and long torso and long pale neck, and he drops his head down, chin plunking down on his shoulder hard. He feels like he's tipsy suddenly, his thoughts blurred, but it doesn't matter, not really, not when this feels wonderful.
Presumably it's the same for Abbacchio, right? Yeah. Definitely. It's not like he can just leech it out of him with no return, right?]
[This kind of position doesn't really bother him, but he can see why it's probably a bit weird for Polnareff. But's not like they're boning, and they won't be.
He huffs at the way Polnareff's chin rests on his shoulder, then frowns a little before he's taking the other man's hand. Just to encourage the moonlacing. But it's weird, he doesn't feel like he's getting anything at all?]
[A lot more than just anything. Is it supposed to be this strong? It really, really hadn't felt like this with Kakyoin, and even considering the difference in position, it seems like a lot. But a good lot, so why is he worrying?
On a whim, he tugs their joined hands inward, resting lightly against Abbacchio's stomach.]
[It's weird. He can't really figure it out. They're not doing anything wrong; hell, he's practically a fucking expert on moonlacing by now. He should be feeling fantastic, so why does he just feel tired?
He shifts slightly, getting more comfortable, but it doesn't seem to change anything.]
I don't think so. Maybe just more tired than I thought...
[It doesn't help Abbacchio in the least. He's pretty comfortable where he is, but being pulled closer doesn't change anything. Gradually, more and more, he just feels more exhausted.]
[The lack of grip actually feels a lot better. He leans forward, rubbing his head forehead, sighing. He isn't regaining a damned thing, though. He's just as tired as before.]
Not while I'm moonlacing. Maybe you just really suck at it after all. [It's sort of a joke, but he really isn't sure what's wrong at all, truthfully.]
[Slowly, Abbacchio gets up. Maybe he needs some tea or something, but the bed sounds nicer at this point.
He makes his way over to the bedroom, toeing off his shoes along the way before he crawls into bed. He doesn't really feel any better, but it's pretty damned comfortable at least.]
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a martyr even
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[Anyway KNOCK KNOCK bitch here he is, and oh, hello, not unchanged after all: with irises swirled in prismatic fractions, sharpened teeth and hints of blackened scales here and there, only vaguely hidden beneath a tank top. His gaze is heated, but maybe that's just a heightened sense of irritation.]
Hey. Gimmie your hand.
[rude!]
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Demanding fucker aren't you.
[But fine! He's holding out his hand.]
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[But oh, thank god, and he kicks the door behind him. The second he grips his hand it's a relief-- like a shower, really, like stepping under hot water after a fight. Oh, that's what he's been missing, and he slumps back against the wall, as nearby Chariot flickers to life. He's there for just a moment, sword held awkwardly, eyes similarly fractured-- but then he's gone. Best not to use up all his energy just as he gets it, right?
He isn't aware he isn't returning the favor, but then again, it's not like he's an expert around here.]
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[Look, he isn't the cuddliest person around, but he's also gotten laid a few times and snuggled his fair share of people. So he considers himself an expert!]
You're gonna need to do a lot more to get more chroma. How long were you planning on using Chariot? [Not to make it weird, but he's lacing their fingers together.]
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Well, he's my Stand, so . . . pretty much anytime I gotta fight a sexy squid.
[Fine, two hands, then, that definitely will be enough. Except no, not really, and he scowls. This is, perhaps, heading in an inevitable direction, but on the other hand, it's not like this would be any less awkward with Kakyoin or Avdol. Probably more so; at least he barely knows (and knows intimately, all at once) Abbacchio.]
I mean, I could fight em without him. But why bother, right? Come on.
[Guess they're heading further into his lair, because Polnareff's outright tugging him forward, hand still held, looking for a couch or a bed or somewhere they can at least touch slightly more without being as awkward.]
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Abbacchio SCOWLS when he's dragged away, but Polnareff is in luck and there is definitely a black leather couch. They're definitely holding hands while sitting on the couch.]
You get more chroma from other shit, you know. Handholding is bottom tier, if you plan on using Chariot that much.
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Yeah, but we're not banging.
[That's rude. And direct.]
Got any other suggestions?
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Some no homo hugging is probably fine, unless that freaks your delicate sensibilities.
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Hey, turn around.
[Because maybe it'll just be easier if Abbacchio leans up against him. He turns sideways, back to one of the couch's arms, legs bracing wider. Just, like, lay up on him or whatever.]
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[Annoyed, Abbacchio lets go of his hands and turns around, folding his arms over his chest. What now, asshole!]
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--well, holding hands with Kakyoin is a far cry from this. Christ.]
Is that-- does that work for you?
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Yeah. S'fine.
That's better for you, right?
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[Much better. And the instant it hits, it's a lot harder to focus on why he was so stiff in the first place. Like, yeah, okay, it's slightly weird, but not honestly the strangest thing he's gone through here. For crissake, he's sporting scales, and the less said about his teeth, the better.
Abbacchio's all lean muscle, his frame narrower but no less powerful. He's so long, though, long legs and long torso and long pale neck, and he drops his head down, chin plunking down on his shoulder hard. He feels like he's tipsy suddenly, his thoughts blurred, but it doesn't matter, not really, not when this feels wonderful.
Presumably it's the same for Abbacchio, right? Yeah. Definitely. It's not like he can just leech it out of him with no return, right?]
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He huffs at the way Polnareff's chin rests on his shoulder, then frowns a little before he's taking the other man's hand. Just to encourage the moonlacing. But it's weird, he doesn't feel like he's getting anything at all?]
Hey.
[He feels weirdly tired.]
Are you getting anything from this?
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[A lot more than just anything. Is it supposed to be this strong? It really, really hadn't felt like this with Kakyoin, and even considering the difference in position, it seems like a lot. But a good lot, so why is he worrying?
On a whim, he tugs their joined hands inward, resting lightly against Abbacchio's stomach.]
You're not?
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He shifts slightly, getting more comfortable, but it doesn't seem to change anything.]
I don't think so. Maybe just more tired than I thought...
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[He definitely isn't, though, and he sighs as he pulls him in a little, like maybe that'll help.]
I dunno, we could move or something.
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[It doesn't help Abbacchio in the least. He's pretty comfortable where he is, but being pulled closer doesn't change anything. Gradually, more and more, he just feels more exhausted.]
Yeah, all right. Where you want me?
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[It's slightly resentful, more sullen than truly irritated. He releases his grip, pulling back, blinking once or twice.]
You ever get tired like this before?
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[The lack of grip actually feels a lot better. He leans forward, rubbing his head forehead, sighing. He isn't regaining a damned thing, though. He's just as tired as before.]
Not while I'm moonlacing. Maybe you just really suck at it after all. [It's sort of a joke, but he really isn't sure what's wrong at all, truthfully.]
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Yeah, right. Nobody's complained but you, buddy. Come on.
[He stands up, jerking his head to indicate they oughta go already.]
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[Slowly, Abbacchio gets up. Maybe he needs some tea or something, but the bed sounds nicer at this point.
He makes his way over to the bedroom, toeing off his shoes along the way before he crawls into bed. He doesn't really feel any better, but it's pretty damned comfortable at least.]
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He stares down at him, curled up beneath the sheets, and grimaces. He does want more, but--]
We can stop if you want.
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Knowing me, I probably just had too much to drink.
[He's perfectly self-aware about his own self-destructive habits after all.]
Just don't get pissed if I fall asleep or something.
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1/2
it's me, 2/2
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