and we could run away. [open]

[deuteranope]

WHO: Maverick Taylor and OPEN (mostly/semi).
WHAT: Maverick’s nightmares rear their ugly heads again. Time for late night stress relief.
WHEN: Night of February 20th (into the 21st) “officially”, but time is fake and nightmares happened on more than one night, so chase your bliss.
WHERE: Lumi3/outside and around.
NOTES: Smoking and swearing, as a Mav does.

( SKITTERING - closed to Imelda. )

[His feet are bare against the cold ice, and part of his brain tries to tell him that he should be slipping and splitting his head open, but there isn't time to argue because he needs to go, he needs to be faster, he needs --

crrrack.

He’s falling. The only one reaching out to him is the sharp-nailed, glowing creature he was running from in the first place...but arms still catch him. They're cold, probably from being so far beneath the ice in this dark pit, and dirty. He can't find where any of them stop being an arm, even as that one twitches with a crack and starts slithering over to him, crawling, nails scrabbling. He shouldn't open his mouth, but it's the only thing he can still move, as the cries for help rise up within him.

Maverick sits up with a yelp and an overwhelming feeling of nausea, like those fingers really had clawed their way down his throat and were stirring up his stomach, now. This room is -- weird. But it's his, still. Just the one at the academy. He’s here, and he'd yelled, but not for help, and he wasn't crying, and thank fucking god it had been years since he'd ever wet the bed from this shit. He doesn't know how much lower he can let himself sink. He runs his hand through his sleep-addled curls to try and stop it from shaking, but when that doesn't work immediately, he reaches for a pair of headphones coiled around the bedpost to clamp over his ears and -- ugh, fuck, where was his phone? He doesn't want to turn on the light… If anyone had woken up -- or was still fucking awake -- then he needed some kind of plausible deniability. Totally still fucking asleep…]

( SMOKESCREENS AND SNOWBALLS - open, around campus. )

[The fear had faded some, letting anger take its place. Adults weren't supposed to have nightmares, only little kids -- and yet there he was, eighteen years old, and waking up in the middle of the night scared out of his wits time and time again. All because of some fake bullshit his brain came up with! He needs...something real. And a goddamn smoke.

He’s already working on a second cigarette by the time he's settled into packing snow into something that is a maybe vaguely human-shaped lump? His movements are agitated and restless, punctuated now and again by a string of curses or a cloud of smoke intermingling with his breath, clear from the cold. He's gotta suck it up and build an army.

And then he's gotta take that army out with the metal bat resting on the ground beside him.]

( SORRY NOT SUBTLE - open, Lumiére 3 common area. )

[Now that he’s worked out all that anxious energy… Okay, no, he still can't fucking sleep. But at least he can come back inside and curl up on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate. He’s swapped out his bat for his laptop, drooping eyes scanning the screen as he scrolls through various, brainless sites. Mav’s got music going, but with the low volume he's set it to, someone probably has to get pretty close to recognize one of many songs by The Cure. Soothing rock.

...there are literally a dozen packets of hot chocolate resting next to him. He probably has more than enough to share, during these lazy, godless hours.]

Comments

[deuteranope]

[Blatant disrespect is Maverick's primary language. Usually he just speaks it more cheerfully. He rolls his eyes and closes his laptop before getting to his feet and wandering back towards his room -- taking the laptop with him, of course, because this jerk tries to steal hot chocolate, he could definitely try to steal a computer. His drink also goes with him. Can't trust him.

Maverick is soon back with another mug that he holds out for Naoki.]

You're paying with your company, so don't make me fucking regret it.

[gaiarage]

[He takes the mug and turns it over in his hands, like it's a puzzle that he has to solve. What a weird dumb thing to own and have in your living space. Naoki mouths the words to himself before glancing back up at Maverick.]

You have a cat? [Gotta admit, he really doesn't seem like the type.]

[deuteranope]

[Sighhhh... Maybe he shouldn't have made the price his company.]

I do. She's with her other dad. She's a partial custody cat.

[gaiarage]

[Should've thought about that before giving him the cat mug, motherfucker.]

Must be hard on her. I hope it works out.

[He slides back down onto his feet and loops around the back of the couch, making his way towards where he's pretty sure the kitchen is and snatching a packet of mix with his free hand.]

Don't wait up. [With that, he vanishes around the corner.

And then comes back not even a minute later to grab a second packet. Oops.]

[deuteranope]

[Bold of you to assume he has any mugs that aren't cat mugs. The one he's using has a cat, too...and any others are either at his mom's place in Soleil or adorable.

...wh]

Did you fucking snort that first one? You can't have fucked it up.

[how would you even!!!]

[gaiarage]

I ate it. [No hesitation, no embarrassment, like that's the most normal thing in the world. He offers a big ol' shrug.]

Wanted to see how it would taste. [Not great, it turns out. Kind of salty. Not bad either, though.]

[deuteranope]

Fucking hell, the idiots in this place have no concept of impulse control.

[He's not surprised -- and he's glad he didn't snort it!!! But like...wow.]

It's like you've never had hot chocolate before.

[gaiarage]

[The judgment doesn't sting as much as it probably should, mostly because he's kind of right. Impulse control is one of those things you could afford to get rid of, living the way he used to. Naoki wipes a stray smear of powder from his mouth and shrugs.]

I haven't. Not in a long time, anyway. [He can remember what it tastes like, almost, but that's about it.]

[deuteranope]

[Pause. Oh.]

Well that's just fucking depressing.

[Mav pushes himself up again, draining the last from his own cup and taking another packet for himself. Apparently he's coming with to babysit.]

[gaiarage]

[Mav can go wherever he likes, but that doesn't stop Naoki from feeling a little on-edge being followed into the kitchen. Call it stupid but potentially getting stabbed in the back is still a concern. Regardless he goes about his business, filling the mug up with milk and popping it in the microwave.]

It's not depressing. Some people never get to drink hot chocolate. [He's not sure who, but they exist, certainly.]

[deuteranope]

[Hey, he gets it. Or rather, he identifies with it but doesn't understand it a lick, and that's part of why he's tagging along. He likes keeping an eye on people, particularly the unpredictable ones.]

Uh, yeah, what fucking part of that shit you just said isn't depressing? So you're a milk guy, huh?

[gaiarage]

[Naoki makes being unpredictable a point of pride, so that's probably a good idea. He doesn't look back at Mav when he talks, instead focused on his reflection in the plastic screen.]

Yeah. Is that a problem? [Did you expect him to use water, like some kind of animal? No thank you.]

[deuteranope]

Just making fucking conversation.

[Milk makes it too creamy and sweet..........but that's not his business. He's just gonna boil up some water for himself.]

[gaiarage]

You should make better conversation.

[Sorry Mav he's just bad at small talk. He snatches the mug out of the microwave just before the timer goes off and tears the packet open with his teeth.]

[deuteranope]

You're one to talk.

[WHO IS THE REAL ANIMAL HERE, MAN... don't make a mess...]

Fine, here's some fucking "better" conversation. The hell're you doing on the no-music floor tonight? You're, uh... Up, right?

[gaiarage]

[It takes a second to decipher what the hell he's talking about, during which he gets to work stirring.]

Yeah. Fourth floor. I don't like to sleep, so I wander around sometimes.

[deuteranope]

[At first he wants to ask who the fuck doesn't like to sleep, but...ah. He sure doesn't actually like to sleep, does he? Resting is fine. Sleeping caused too many problems.]

Usually lurk around like a huge weirdo, or was this just a stop on your way outside?

[gaiarage]

[He gives a weird little rolling shrug.]

Sometimes I'm inside, sometimes I'm out. It depends on how I'm feeling. [And how risky it'd be for him to be out and about right now. Which is, as it happens, very risky.]

[deuteranope]

Huh. So what would you call tonight's feeling?

[gaiarage]

Cold. [Not that the cold's ever been a problem, but it's the first excuse that comes to mind.]

I'm staying in here.

[deuteranope]

Yeah. I was out earlier.

[so nyeh nyeh, he's tougher than you. he braves the weather!! and then has hot chocolate as a reward.]

Not that fucking bad, but why freeze your balls off if you don't need to, right?

[gaiarage]

[He rolls his eyes, which Mav probably can't see because he's facing away from them. He's wearing shorts and no shirt here, give him a break.]

Are you always this annoying?

[deuteranope]

[That was his choice, wasn't it!!!! also assuming he's still all marked up, Mav has definitely been lowkey appreciating how extensive those "tattoos" are.]

Haha, yup.

[He has the gall to sound smug about it.]

[gaiarage]

[The hoodie covers up most of his markings, but the ones on his face and hands are definitely still visible and definitely glowing a dull green at the edges, like an old neon sign. He exhales in a way that's either sighing or trying to cool down his hot chocolate, hard to tell which.]

Great. At least you're consistent. [Is that... a joke? Who knows. Satisfied, he sets the stirrer on the counter and takes an enormous swig of still-scalding cocoa.

He doesn't seem especially bothered by the heat.]

[deuteranope]

[Still cool!! Because they're definitely tattoos, yep, just probably magic rune tattoos like Sari's guild people did. Nice. Good shit.]

That's not -- [how...you should drink that...

...]

Okay.

[whatever!!!!]

You're a weird fucking dude, and I regret sharing with you. Just thought you should know that.