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 Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 2:45 am
Balancing three warm pies in each hand, America kicked the door to 112 and tried not to remember the incident that had gotten fired from her brief but locally infamous stint at the local diner. She kicked again, twice this time, "Open up and get ready to strip!"
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 2:52 am
There was the sort of pause that might be caused by (for example) someone who'd damn near bit through his tongue in shock gathering his wits and attempting to look calm, and then the door opened a tiny crack and Taym's skeletal face manifested suspiciously in the opening. The suspicious look was instantly dispelled. There would be no stripping, if he had his way, but there would be pie. "Oh my god," he said, somewhat stupidly. He sounded like he might cry. lizbot Taym also has some Diner Employment Incidents I am sure.
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 2:56 am
A he stood there doing a shitty impression of a skeletal door, America kicked at his shins, "C'mon now, don't an a*****e. Grab a few and make way while they're still warm."
She squinted at his expression as if ********> daring him to spill tears in her mighty and gracious presence.
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 2:59 am
He obligingly relieved her of some of her pastry burden, bumping the door open with his non-existent hip and retreating inside with a vague, distracted expression that suggested she'd been all but forgotten in favor of pie. It took a lot to make Taym forget a redhead. Pie would apparently do it. He didn't even notice the malicious squint. "Where's the peach one?" he demanded, flopping bonelessly into a chair (guess you get the bed, America, congratulations) and sniffing experimentally at the pan he was holding.
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 3:04 am
She closed the door behind them with her foot and made herself at home. Inspecting things here and there, leaning in for the odd sniff test, she also set the pies down as she went, leaving them scattered throughtlessly on whatever flat surface was at hand. At the question, she held a last one aloft. "Here, but off with the shirt first. An I've got questions too, so don't you even start to think this is an act of charity."
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 3:12 am
"Ask away," he said, not even pretending he was about to take his shirt off for her. He already had three pies. He was carefully breaking off bits of crust and eyeing her sideways, wondering if she was holding forks hostage. He'd eat with his hands. He wasn't proud. Or he was, but not right now. "Oh god," he added, around a mouthful. He seemed very happy.
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 3:14 am
America waited for him to strip, eyebrows raised expectantly.
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 3:16 am
He carefully excavated a blackberry out of the pie in front of him and ate it very slowly without looking at her. Only when he'd finished did he bother to acknowledge her existence: "What? You've already seen it," he pointed out. He bared his teeth in what might pass for a grin.
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 3:30 am
"Briefly and in less than idea circumstances. But if you're a shy boy, that's fine too. " Reaching into her shirt America pulled out a Swiss army camping knife slid the fork up. She sat down on the bed and dug in, "Got in trouble with my Communist for such, and I'd rather not have to apologize twice in a day for the same damn thing."
Chewing around the mouthful, she began, "So you can just tell your numbers and I'll take it as truth." She set the pie aside, never mind crumbs in the bed, to draw out a small noted pad and pen.
"Height, weight, muscle to fat ratio?" She began reading off questions, "What is the diameter of your nipples and are they symmetrical? What's the state of your tan lines? Any hidden freckles, moles, or birthmarks? Do you have any notable scars and how did you get them?" Looking up, she concluded, "That'll do for a start."
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 3:40 am
He made a face at the pie in his bed and the realization that he'd have to do laundry again later, which was exhausting, but he made no protests. The face just became more and more set in as she rattled off her list of demands. She'd already seen it, right? Fiona rustled around somewhere between amusement and disapproval, and with a "to hell with it" noise in the back of his throat, Taym shed scarf and coat--he was wearing them here, alone in his room--and T-shirt and henley (my god, the layers) with a few deft movements so that he could get back to his pie. It was no less horrific than it had been last time. If anything, it was considerably worse. There was a twisting shape under one horrifyingly prominent hipbone that was new but luckily didn't look as disgusting as it actually was. He didn't make any efforts to make it easy on her, resuming his eating--tiny, careful, mouselike bites, chewed slowly--and letting her make educated guesses. "What exactly are you compiling a database for?" he demanded. He added obligingly, twisting to demonstrate: "I am told I have a birthmark back here somewhere," pointing at the knobs visible along the top of his spine. "I've never seen it." (He was in truth terrified; his airy dismissive attitude was all a paper-thin facade; he was self-conscious and humiliated and he hated himself and he hated America, but it was easier to pretend it was all a joke, easier to sit there and eat the only decent food he'd had in weeks and act like they were both normal even though he abruptly felt sick) "Apprise me," he added drily, "on the symmetry of my nipples. I'm a bad judge."
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 4:05 am
America made a pleased sound as he finally complied. Long lists of other people's questions wore her down pretty quick too, 'specially when it was mostly number business at that. Picking up the pie from the bed she placed it neatly to the side instead, suddenly willing to play a slightly better guest as long as her host remained at least semi-cooperative.
She began making her way over, paused, and scanned him first at a distance, making a few notes. It was easier to look this time, she knew what to expect, what was only hinted at by the gauntness of his face and lanky frame. She'd gone to school with girls who had similar, hard to miss them. But in girls it was expected really. In a grown man it was more jarring, more telling just how unhealthy skin stretched over bone to create a slight, angular silhouette could be.
Drawing closer, expression intent, she broke him down to the bits and pieces. She noted skin tone variations and any bruises, and dropped low to inspect the birthmark, making a small, not very good sketch of it. As she continued writing, she answered his question plainly, "It's a small island and from what I can tell, relationships outside of this tiny a** pool aren't likely to happen. So me, and every other woman who happens to prefer men are stuck with a limited selection. But it doesn't mean we can't be choosy, you get me? Now right now, I'm young, and I'm damn fine, and I don't care for anything long term just right now. So we're starting this thing with your outsides, and eventually we'll work on the insides whenever long term starts to sound appealing."
She drew back to study his nipples, holding both hands up, fingers framing and measuring, "They're nothing anybody needs a word of warning about," she assured him with a grin.
"Plus I just like an excuse to check guys out. So what's with the hip?"
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 4:18 am
He was uncomfortable by her proximity; he suspected she might touch him and it made him tense and leery, a cornered feral dog desperate for contact and terrified that he might get it. He felt like he was being made fun of; and the best response, he figured, was to just play along, to just keep up the sardonic comments and the bland expressions. He swung his feet up onto the table serving as his desk as soon as he had the space to do it, a little grab at nonchalance. He'd already gone from eating to merely picking at bits of crust. "Battle scar," he said cryptically, changing the subject immediately. "So how do I opt out? Of your dating pool, I mean. You can put a little X next to my name. If there's not one already," he added flatly. It felt incredibly unnatural not to toss up some piece of sly flattery in response to her young-and-damn-fine comment; even more unnatural not to leave dangling the promising thread of "we're starting this thing." He'd lost the willingness to do it a long time ago, but the urge had never really left.
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 4:33 am
"Now don't be that way," she squinted up at him with a frown, "It's not just for me. This is a public service to all those others in the same situation as myself. So unless you happen to be gay, in a relationship already, or not interested in sex or relationships of any nature ever, then there is no opt out. So speak the ******** up if any of those apply, otherwise please tell me if there's anything about your junk I should note for anyone who casts her eyes your way. And is that a little belly you have going on down there did you get pregnant because I have heard things..."
Slow, intrigued horror dawned across her expression as she stared.
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 4:43 am
It was a good thing that he'd already been reduced to picking at his food, or he might have choked. As it was he just made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. "It is not a ********!" He crossed his arms over his belly self-consciously, tried to hide behind them, inadequate though they were. "Jesus Christ," he managed, his expression somewhere between wounded and horrified and pissed. He needed a cigarette. He bent to procure one from the pocket of his discarded coat accordingly. "Let me ask you something. Imagine you've been living on ******** MREs for months--that part should be easy, anyway--and some guy showed up and said, here, have some real ******** food, but in exchange I need detailed stats on your--your, I don't know, dress and bra and shoe size, and by the way, here's a derisive comment about the way you look, and a callous observation about your worth as a potential sex partner. How well exactly do you think that'd go over?" He realized belatedly that maybe Peyton would have risen to that with the proper indignation, but suspected that maybe America wouldn't.
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 4:53 am
America shrugged, "I'm an eighteen year old girl fresh out of highschool, bucko. I went through the entirety of that on a daily basis since puberty, and nobody ever gave me a damn pie for my time. Though to be fair, I don't believe I made single derisive comment about the way you look since I got here."
With an unimpressed sniff, she continued "But that's me, and I can deal and maybe you can't. I'd offer turnabout, but mayhap that'd just make you feel worse, so just put your ******** shirt back on if before I feel the need to apologize twice in one goddamn day." The latter part had her flushed and more than a little irritated.
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