WHO: Two Geckos + an assortment of guest stars WHAT: Summary of content WHEN: Late Bloomingtide WHERE: The Gallows, misc. Kirkwall haunts. NOTES: Will update as needed.
That's a fair point. Not much in the way of intake, which suits Seth fine. Discomfort is already itching beneath the skin at the promise of two weeks quarantine. Not long, in the grand scheme of things, but Seth isn't pleased about it.
"Someone'll want our names eventually," Seth predicts. "Better get our stories straight before that."
Surely the Gecko brothers aren't a household name here, but between the two of them they've got a few things that are better kept close to the vest. Seth doesn't have to say which things. Richie can guess.
"I'm thinking we start at the top, work our way down."
Half a grin slowly creeps onto Richard's face, delighted at the opportunity that he's suddenly realised they have in front of them. Enough to completely ignore the very good and practical suggestion Seth's given regarding logistics. He leans a little closer, like a kid about to share the secrets of a prank.
"You be Paul Newman, I'll take Robert Redford."
Sure, they won't know the Gecko brothers here. But there's a whole catalogue of other names they also won't know.
Is it tempting? Maybe. Seth might loosen up enough to appreciate it around the same time he stops smarting over the indignity of their arrival and finds a way to reconcile with being stuck here.
One more likely than the other to happen in a reasonable timeframe.
"You wanna think about what we're doing to set ourselves up, or not?"
A great topic to stall in the face of many other logistical questions that Seth knows they'll need to discuss. And doesn't want to.
There's the temptation to splash water back, face pinched in irritation at the gesture and at having his fucking fantastic idea literally rained on. Maybe some part too at the implication that he isn't thinking about what they're doing here, like they hadn't both been chucked into this mess together.
"Fine." Bitten out. "Top down. But it'll have to be at night. This place has a lot of open windows, and I'm not walking around dressed as fucking Gandalf all the time."
"Oh no? You banking on the sun going somewhere in the future?"
Delicately posed. Seth's aware of the problem. He'd clocked it real quick, between muddy field to cart to ferry to big stone fucking tower. This is not a set up favorable to culebra.
And that's not going to be an easy thing to navigate without some help.
As much as Richard already hates the idea of wearing a cloak, it was a decent option. He wasn't going to be able to pull out a boiler suit and mask here. They probably didn't even have sunglasses yet.
"This isn't the first time I've had to deal with avoiding a tan." And Seth had never seemed to pay too much mind to it, outside of any immediate moments where Richard was confronted with sunlight. Or stuck in a jeep in the middle of the desert with only the crackling line of a radio strung between them. His expression pinches, the memory extremely unwelcome. "I can handle it."
That gets an incredulous, pure are you serious face, because there's no way Seth actually wants a discussion about that. Culebra bullshit, easier to dismiss and forget about than actually look at head on, and Richard does not feel like playing around with this apparent change of heart just because they've somehow landed their asses in Middle Earth.
He stands up out of the water, stepping out of the bath towards his towels, uncaring if he splashes Seth along the way.
"I know thinking about the logistics of my existence might be a novel fucking experience for you, but in case you hadn't noticed, I've been dealing with this for a while."
Alone. Not the whole time, but still alone in the sense of without Seth.
He repeats, each word emphasised: "I can handle it."
The answering hey is perfunctory, affront more in the doorslam of Richie's reaction than the splashing of his retreat.
"In case you haven't noticed, this isn't your usual stomping ground."
But there's the truth: Seth doesn't want to talk about this. He hates this. He'd like to pretend it isn't happening.
And yet, he hates the totality of this dismissal even more. Richie yanking this one thing out of his hands, when there's so very little between them that Seth's able to contribute to.
"But sure. You handle it. Call me when you need an assist."
Towel retrieved, Richard starts drying off, scoffing as Seth continues.
"And how exactly are you going to assist, Seth?" He shoots over his shoulder. "Talk one of the staff into a dark corner for me to jump out on? Open up a vein for me?"
As soon as they got down into the logistics of it, the nasty gory details, Seth would stall or derail. Richard had seen his reactions too many times to think it would be any different now. He wraps the towel around his hips.
"You don't know what I need, and you don't want to know. So forget it."
This wasn't Richard closing a door. Seth had closed it a long time ago.
The former is feasible. Seth nearly wedges that rebuttal into the space between Richie's sharp-snapped rejoinders.
Seth can and has talked the two of them into business before. They could pretend this is business, couldn't they? Seth would certainly like to, Richie not letting that fly.
And Seth isn't going to beg.
"Have it your way."
Belligerent, all irritation even as Seth slides down into the water to claim the vacated space. He doesn't want to soak, but now it's about principle.
"Like I said, call me when it all goes fucking sideways, brother."
There isn't anything further to say to that which hasn't already been said. Seth will be waiting for that call a long time, because it isn't going to happen. End of.
So Richard just leaves him to stew in his (stolen) bath, heading off to check out where it is they're supposed to be sleeping in this place.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
"Someone'll want our names eventually," Seth predicts. "Better get our stories straight before that."
Surely the Gecko brothers aren't a household name here, but between the two of them they've got a few things that are better kept close to the vest. Seth doesn't have to say which things. Richie can guess.
"I'm thinking we start at the top, work our way down."
no subject
"You be Paul Newman, I'll take Robert Redford."
Sure, they won't know the Gecko brothers here. But there's a whole catalogue of other names they also won't know.
no subject
"Focus up, brother," to the tune of Come on.
Is it tempting? Maybe. Seth might loosen up enough to appreciate it around the same time he stops smarting over the indignity of their arrival and finds a way to reconcile with being stuck here.
One more likely than the other to happen in a reasonable timeframe.
"You wanna think about what we're doing to set ourselves up, or not?"
A great topic to stall in the face of many other logistical questions that Seth knows they'll need to discuss. And doesn't want to.
no subject
"Fine." Bitten out. "Top down. But it'll have to be at night. This place has a lot of open windows, and I'm not walking around dressed as fucking Gandalf all the time."
no subject
Delicately posed. Seth's aware of the problem. He'd clocked it real quick, between muddy field to cart to ferry to big stone fucking tower. This is not a set up favorable to culebra.
And that's not going to be an easy thing to navigate without some help.
no subject
no subject
To the tune of you know what I mean.
"We aren't going to have this place to ourselves indefinitely."
And maybe, at some point, someone was going to expect them to do something in the light of day. That was going to be a problem.
no subject
As much as Richard already hates the idea of wearing a cloak, it was a decent option. He wasn't going to be able to pull out a boiler suit and mask here. They probably didn't even have sunglasses yet.
"This isn't the first time I've had to deal with avoiding a tan." And Seth had never seemed to pay too much mind to it, outside of any immediate moments where Richard was confronted with sunlight. Or stuck in a jeep in the middle of the desert with only the crackling line of a radio strung between them. His expression pinches, the memory extremely unwelcome. "I can handle it."
no subject
I can handle it.
Well, maybe. But Seth bristles anyway, lets it pass as his eyes return to the gleaming splinter of light dug into his palm.
"You figure out how you're getting dinner too?"
no subject
He stands up out of the water, stepping out of the bath towards his towels, uncaring if he splashes Seth along the way.
"I know thinking about the logistics of my existence might be a novel fucking experience for you, but in case you hadn't noticed, I've been dealing with this for a while."
Alone. Not the whole time, but still alone in the sense of without Seth.
He repeats, each word emphasised: "I can handle it."
no subject
"In case you haven't noticed, this isn't your usual stomping ground."
But there's the truth: Seth doesn't want to talk about this. He hates this. He'd like to pretend it isn't happening.
And yet, he hates the totality of this dismissal even more. Richie yanking this one thing out of his hands, when there's so very little between them that Seth's able to contribute to.
"But sure. You handle it. Call me when you need an assist."
When. Very pointed.
no subject
"And how exactly are you going to assist, Seth?" He shoots over his shoulder. "Talk one of the staff into a dark corner for me to jump out on? Open up a vein for me?"
As soon as they got down into the logistics of it, the nasty gory details, Seth would stall or derail. Richard had seen his reactions too many times to think it would be any different now. He wraps the towel around his hips.
"You don't know what I need, and you don't want to know. So forget it."
This wasn't Richard closing a door. Seth had closed it a long time ago.
no subject
Seth can and has talked the two of them into business before. They could pretend this is business, couldn't they? Seth would certainly like to, Richie not letting that fly.
And Seth isn't going to beg.
"Have it your way."
Belligerent, all irritation even as Seth slides down into the water to claim the vacated space. He doesn't want to soak, but now it's about principle.
"Like I said, call me when it all goes fucking sideways, brother."
no subject
So Richard just leaves him to stew in his (stolen) bath, heading off to check out where it is they're supposed to be sleeping in this place.