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 Posted: Sat Oct 25, 2014 8:27 pm
Chance's smile was almost a grin. "Yes, sir," he said, and would have saluted, but that would have taken too much effort, so he just walked along obediently with Ripley at his side, gripping the other's arm firmly.
When they reached his room - which felt as though it had taken more than it should have, due to his slower pace - Chance reached a bruised hand into his pocket, fumbling around for a minute to find the key. "I think I've got it," he said, smiling at Ripley, and pushed the key into the lock, nudging the door with the toe of his shoe. It swung open to reveal a room relatively similar to Ripley's, though without the extra items and general lived-in feel. There was hardly anything in the room at all, except for a stack of books on the desk next to a framed picture of a bookstore, and the only decorations weren't noticeable unless one looked up - a series of plastic, glow-in-the-dark stars that were stuck to the ceiling.
"Welcome to my humble abode," said Chance, as grandly as someone in his position could manage. "Make yourself at home."
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Posted: Sat Oct 25, 2014 8:41 pm
Ripley took the time to take in the room as best as he could, though admittedly it wasn't hard; Chance's dorm had the clear-tell of a new kid on the block. One who had yet to fill the modest (and that was putting it lightly) space, but who had been here just enough to have it somewhat personal.
The picture of a bookstore was a curious thing, though.
"Thank you." He said graciously, pausing at the door to kick and step out of his shoes at the door. It was only polite, after all. "I like it. It's clean." The compliment was reused with earnest, and a thin smile to prove it. The last jaunt was to the bed, where he stood by to help the other man down onto it, if need be.
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Posted: Sat Oct 25, 2014 9:13 pm
Chance's gaze flickered to the shoe thing; that was more polite than other people had been, but since he'd already gauged Ripley as being someone extremely organized and clean, it made sense for him. And Ripley had even offered him a smile, which was reassuring.
Chance eased himself slowly down onto the bed and then gave a sigh, reaching up a hand to run his fingers through his hair, which turned out to be a mistake, since his arm was aching. He dropped his hand back into his lap with a wince.
"As you can see, I'm currently in the middle of redecorating," he deadpanned, gesturing limply at the room around them. "But maybe later I'll add some roses or something, you know, just something fun and festive to spruce the place up a little. Maybe some pink and sparkles."
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Posted: Sat Oct 25, 2014 9:36 pm
Once Chance was down on the bed, Ripley leaned away and pulled the messenger bag within easier reach, taking the bottles and placing them carefully on the desk, away from the books and photo. A pair of drinking glasses came next, and finally the first aid kit.
"I can tell." He couldn't, really; it looked hospitable as far as he was concerned, but hey, what did he know? "There's plenty of people on this island who can help you there." He mused; he could think of a couple women and men that could assist, especially with the pink. As he spoke he poured a couple fingers of whiskey in both glasses, and opened the first aid kit to rummage for something small.
"Maybe a lava lamp?" He deadpanned, returning to the bed with something in both hands to offer Chance; on one, a pair of regular pain pills. The other, the glass of whiskey.
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Posted: Sat Oct 25, 2014 9:43 pm
Chance didn't really have any plans at all for sprucing up his room. With the exception of the photograph and the stars on the ceiling, he had little desire to do much else; it was a relatively comfortable place to stay, even if it was a bit plain, so complaints were few and far between so far.
"I'm sure there are," Chance said with a slight grin. He gave a little laugh and reached for the pills and the whiskey lifting his glass to toast Ripley. It was probably a bad idea to mix the two things together, but at least being on Deus meant that his immune system and health were higher, thanks to their abilities and FEAR shield.
"Bottoms up," Chance said, and tossed the pills into his mouth, downing them with a swallow of whiskey. He winced a little, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and lowered the glass back down to his lap.
"So what's your story, then?" he asked, eyes flickering up to Ripley, a faint note of curiosity in his voice. "I mean, obviously you don't have to tell me your entire life history. You just see pretty well adjusted for someone on the island. Pretty well put together."
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Posted: Sat Oct 25, 2014 9:57 pm
Had Chance been suspicious, Ripley would have been quite able to explain that small amounts of alcohol with non-prescription was mostly safe, as long as he was healthy. Though since the other man didn't question it, he assumed that Chance either knew that, didn't care, or perhaps already knew that their weapons already boosted their systems to inhuman levels. Either way, he wasn't questioned, and thus didn't say a word on that subject.
"Cheers." He said distantly, watching the other man down the medicine to make sure he took it. Once he was sure he did, he returned to the desk to take up the rest of the first aid kit, and upon his return to the bed, took a seat on the edge without permission.
"My story?" He parroted, if only to buy himself some time to dodge the question. Chance began to clarify - or perhaps more accurately, perform a strange, curious backpedal - which made him exhale in amusement. "Ah. See, I'm far from." Well-adjusted was a persona he liked to emit, but one that was just that - a persona. A mask he wore, to cover up the broken pieces underneath. He recognized it, lived with it, and accepted it blindly; there was no point in trying to fix it, especially when he had no materials in which to do so.
"Are you still bleeding anywhere?"
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Posted: Sat Oct 25, 2014 11:10 pm
The alcohol was a pleasant burn; the reminder that he now ached everywhere, not so much. Chance tapped a finger against the glass in his hand and surveyed Ripley with a look of interest, curiosity in his eyes as the other man took a seat beside him.
"Ah, so you're one of those guys," said Chance, swirling the alcohol in his glass, a faintly amused tone in his voice. "Well, I suppose anyone who's actually well-adjusted in a place like this is few and far between. But at the very least, you seem to have a good grasp of control, which is pretty impressive."
He took another swallow of his drink and said, "Maybe one or two on my torso, or my shoulders, but it's hard to tell, since everything sort of stings right now."
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2014 6:34 am
"More than likely, yes." He smiled vaguely at the idea of being one of those; he highly suspected he was, one way or another - then again, weren't they all? "Thank you, I try." Even though he was sitting, he offered a mock bow. Then, as Chance went over his suspected wounds, his gaze moved to imagine them, placing the other man's words to the places he had hit in their battle. They seemed to match up, which means there was probably one on his leg, too. Well then.
"Alright." Turning, he set the first aid kit open on the other side of him, keeping the space between himself and Chance open for now. "Take off your shirt, if you can."
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2014 8:59 am
"You're welcome," said Chance lightly, and leaned back a little, taking a swallow of his drink, turning his head a little to watch as Ripley opened the first aid kit, his peculiarly white hair swinging against his face.
Chance's eyes flickered with amusement. "You know, usually when guys tell me to take off my shirt, it's not in a medical way," he said blithely, but obediently reached his hands down and slowly and slightly painfully tugged his shirt off, wincing a little, though completely unashamed. There was a bright watercolor tattoo on the front of his white shoulder, spreading over a small portion of his collarbone and chest; and down his left side, there were small, circular burn marks, as well as a few small old scars. A large purple bruise was already beginning to form near his hip, and blossoming over his shoulder, and there were a series of small, shallow cuts to his upper arm and one on his waist from where Ripley's blade had cut.enoh love phone tags u also out of his tattoos he only has the one right now @ watercolors
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2014 10:37 am
"Welcome to the club." Ripley hid an amused smile as his head was turned to focus on the kit, pulling a few things out that he would need. "I'd say we have t-shirts, but..." He trailed off as he face Chance properly again, or at least as properly as he could given where they sat. "This won't be as fun unless you like playing Doctor." There was no shame in his gaze as he took in the sight of Chance's torso, eyes drifting from the shoulder bruise, to tattoo, to scars, and finally to the dark splotches on his hip, with all the shallow cuts in between.
Not bad, he thought, he had been expecting worse injuries...though the scars were filed away for future questioning.
"Everything I'm using has FEAR in it...it'll help your shield regenerate a little faster." It was something he felt important enough to explain, and he started opening a small bottle labelled as a general antiseptic, pressing a cotton ball to the open end to wet it.
"I like your tattoo." He said, only seconds before beginning to dab the antiseptic on Chance's shallow wounds.
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2014 3:05 pm
The amusement on his face grew more apparent. "Having teeshirts would be a beautiful irony, wouldn't it?" said Chance lightly, his eyes flickering over Ripley with a slightly sharper expression now, gaze narrowing slightly as he gave a thoughtful hum. But then he looked away and laughed, giving a little shake of his head. "Depends on if you're into that sort of thing, I think. Personally I don't mind experimenting if the other person's okay with it; to each his own, I guess, though I do draw the line at some things."
He was smiling as mildly as ever, as if they were discussing something as mundane was the weather. Chance himself wasn't exactly muscular, but he wasn't too thin either, more wirey and lean than anything else, and he seemed entirely casual under the scrutinizing gaze from the other man. And he appreciated that Ripley was actually telling him what he was doing instead of just slapping bandaids on him.
Knowledge was power, after all, or something like that."
"Thanks," he said, both to the explanation and the compliment. "I got it when I was about sixteen, kind of my first thing that I did on my own, so I'm pretty happy with it. I'm getting a few others too, in a bit - ow - "
Chance gave a soft hiss as the antiseptic seeped into his injuries, exhaling a breath. "That's a fun sensation."
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2014 3:45 pm
"It would." The irony was not lost on him, but it was still something to think about; short lived shirts, at the very least. A trophy for the floor. "Just be careful you don't say that to someone who would play surgeon." As previously stated there was quite the potential for psychopaths on this island, though he knew of one semi-psycho that was trying to fit the surgeon thing. "Where is your line?" He couldn't resist asking, simply because it was there - and, like Chance, it was asked as easily as discussing the weather, without an ounce of sheepishness or shame.
He listened to the story behind the tattoo, and even dragged his gaze up to it for a moment, despite being more than focused on the wounds and doing his best to treat them. He set the antiseptic and the cotton aside, letting it breathe for a moment while he fished out squares of gauze to place over top of them, which was then held in place by cloth tape.
"Isn't it just?" Ripley was used to the antiseptic. It still stung, because it always would, but it was no longer an alien feeling to him. Though he could tell at a glance that the burns were older, he still gestured to them. "Are any of those fresh?" There could be more hidden ones, after all. Ones that could be newer.
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2014 4:11 pm
"Oh, yes, good point," said Chance with a laugh. "I'd prefer not to get anything stuck in me that wasn't something meant to be nice."
He gave a thoughtful hum at the question, tilting his head a little. "I'm not a big fan of pain, really," he said, somewhat contemplatively, after a moment, and then gave Ripley a wry smile, gesturing at his torso and the scars. "So most BDSM things would be out, I've got enough scars already. Whips, chains, choking, all of that is somewhat unappealing to me. But other stuff," He waved a hand. "Dressing up, roleplaying whatever, if it makes someone else happy, then why not, might as well try it before you knock it, right?"
Chance arched his brows. "What about yours? Anywhere you draw the line?"
Ripley was both instructive and efficient; the pain of the antiseptic lasted only a few seconds before it was gone, his injuries mostly settling into a dull ache, and Chance watched the other man work with a look of interest in his eyes. "A few of them," he answered, lips curving up in a slight smile. "The cigarette burns are from my childhood, though, and the scars by my hips are from when I lived in the boy's home."
There was a distinct lack of insecurity in his voice, Chance as casual as ever. "There are a few nicks here and there from various spars, though," he added, grinning a little. "Some of the people here are brutal."
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2014 5:00 pm
"Agreed." He had his fair share of claws, teeth and various other pointy things in him, and he vastly disapproved. But if it was for the sole purpose of having some fun, and his enjoyment was also an active part of it, then hey, anything was fair. He considered whether or not he wanted to answer Chance; on one hand, he was a private man, and his sex life was his sex life. On the other, well, he had asked Chance, and he had answered, so it was only fair, right?
"I haven't found my line, yet. I imagine the more extreme BDSM would be it." Finn was known to be a little (or, a few times, a lot) rough, but so far, so good. Though as he was thinking about it now, his gaze moved to the cigarette burns, and in his line of sight was his own gloved hands. "And fire play." He added seriously.
Though he shrugged. "It's just sex, anyway. As long as I can recover from it, and have control of the brakes in some cases, I'm fine." It was a subject he was fairly blaze about, when it came ight down to it. It was just a release at the very least, and fun at the most.
The subject moved on and Chance was explaining the burns and scars, and for a moment his rather stoic face sported a small frown. Well, the whole carrying around a concealed weapon thing now made a great deal more sense, under what information he had and conclusions he could draw from them. It sounded like Chance endured more than his fair share of abuse...he'd carry a weapon too.
"They are." He agreed to the brutal part, getting that out of the way first. "I'm sorry." He sighed, the frown disappearing as he reached back to pull out a pair of cold packs. One was broken after another, and held between his gloved hands until he felt the tell-tale cold.
"This will be uncomfortable." He warned seconds before the first cold pack was placed on the shoulder bruise, and the second on the hip one as best as possible. "Is that why your Mother's name was on that paper?"
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2014 5:48 pm
Where Ripley was private, Chance was mostly just quiet, though he had no issues about answering questions that people asked him, even if the answer wasn't what people expected - as demonstrated by their current conversation, of which neither of them was ashamed. It was that sort of openness that Chance appreciated.
His smile was almost wry as he said, "No fire play. That's a definite one."
He lifted a hand and ran it through his hair, shaking it out a little and said, "You make an excellent point, though. Sex is meant to be good for all parties involved, so as long as you're having a good time and you know what you're getting yourself into, I don't see why it can't be a little experimental every now and then."
Maybe it was a strange conversational topic for two people who had only known each other for a few hours, but Chance didn't particularly mind, and he felt relatively at ease, even with his aching body. "It's all right," he told Ripley, with a fain smile. "It happened, it's there, and I'm still here, aren't I?"
A hiss escaped through clenched teeth, Chance twisting his head a little as the ice pack pressed against his shoulder and hip. He was used to the cold, thanks to Asher, but the initial sting against his bruises still hurt, and he lifted his head, taking a deep breath.
"Yeah," he said, once he'd reigned in the impulse to growl in pain, and turned to look at Ripley. "She was not exactly Mother of the Year, lemme just say."
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