( OPEN )

[classification]

WHO: locus + YOU ; also assorted mine + others
WHERE: bajiKHAAAAAANN
WHEN: thru the event
WHAT: a bunch of rando things
WARNINGS: nothing off the top of my head, will edit if necessary


( SUPERBIA )

[ At first, he thinks this whole thing is stupid. Locus tells himself to just stay on the ship and keep to his own business. There's no reason to go down there at all. Besides, he's been to pleasure type planets before and has absolutely no interest.

And then, he reads the information.

Because he's Locus and because he's paranoid, he makes a rather odd picture. For the better part of the morning, there is a rather tall ( as in 6'5" ) man lurking around the district in full armor. Perhaps it's a little ridiculous, but Locus doesn't trust anyone—let alone people here in some alleged anomaly fleet. It's all a load of bullshit as far as he's concerned.

However, toward late afternoon, the armor will be mysteriously gone and Locus will be wandering the district. He seems like a rather non-descript sort of fellow—just loitering around from here to there. Because now he can wander and blend in with the crowd as he's gotten his hands on some micro-tech to hide the scar on his face.

Which is why he feels little shame in ducking into what looks to be a promising day spa with little foot traffic at this time of day. Or even that fancy looking barber shop. Because, hey, sometimes a mercenary who's just been through hell and back deserves a little pampering. And, Locus, being one who never does this, believes that it might be time. ]

( LUXURIA )

[ This is a ridiculous place to be, Locus knows that. And yet he finds himself touring the district for some unknown reason. It's uncomfortable and he sees little point to the way people are behaving, but he's not judging.

Much.

Well, all right. He's not openly saying anything, but the judgment is all too clear by the slightly pinched look on his face.

Eventually, he comes to the beach and that gives him pause. He can see people milling about and enjoying themselves in the water, on the sand, in the bars. He can also see everything. Quite literally. They're all naked and seem to have no issue at all with that or anyone else. It's... odd? Don't these people have any shame????

Yet only minutes later, Locus finds himself on that beach and—well, he's not quite enjoying himself, but it's a close approximation of that as he lounges on a chair near the water or wanders along the bars and shops that welcome nudie patrons. Except, he does have the decency to cover up with a modest towel during that time. He's giving it his best shot to not feel awkward skulking around nearly naked in various places. At one point he does stop at a certain bar that is mostly open facing the sea and it's quiet with no blaring music with a heavy bass and people mostly are leaving each other alone.

Which means that, yes, that seat next to him is open! ]

( AVARITIA )

[ If there's one thing that Locus lowkey appreciates and doesn't really talk about is fine attire. Usually he prefers the protection of his armor, but when doing jobs that don't require it, he's in a suit nine out of ten times. He just likes them. ( Maybe because at least one part of him should be put together well... )

So, he procures more than several in the luxury shops here. Grabs a few accessories to go along with because why not make the whole ensemble match well? Once night hits, he does treat himself to nice dinners tucked away in a back corner of a restaurant then hits the casinos. He doesn't need the money ( because it's not really important to him ), but he knows that it can't hurt to have extra laying around when he needs to get information.

And considering he's at a loss as to what's really going on here? Money can only talk. So, hey, wanna blow on those dice for good luck?? ]

Comments

[sixth]

[ The guy's a little quiet, but Wash isn't any great conversationalist and isn't terribly outgoing or personable in the first place. If he takes too long to respond, it doesn't seem overly strange. Wash is floundering a bit on how to make small talk too.

He nods along in understanding. And maybe smiles a little, there and gone, at the mutter. That's a sentiment he can appreciate. ]

Path of least resistance. I get that.

[ When the bartender comes by, Wash points at the swirly purple drink some sort of flickering collection of lights is drinking. He doesn't know what it is—the drink or the weird alien—but if something that looks to be made out of fireflies enjoys it, he figures what the hell. ]

This your first time on this planet? [ His mouth quirks into a faint grimace. ] Because it's mine and if you've got any tips on how to navigate it without making a mess of everything, I'd love to hear them.

[classification]

[ It takes everything within Locus not to give the whole game away when Washington asks for advice. First, he wants to tell him to not be such a disappointment. But, Locus realizes he probably can't. He's been one for too long that he probably doesn't know how to not be one. Then he wants to tell him to not talk to him. Felix is here and if he sees the two of them together, it's going to get ugly.

Of course, he says none of those things.

Instead, he lifts the hand from around the glass and presses the tips of his fingers against his neck. His skin is a little damp with slight perspiration and he knows it's not completely from the weather. Harnessing control over the low, constantly burning heat in his belly is taking a lot out of him. Not that he's sone mindless animal, but it's been a very long time since Locus has felt this way. He's never been one to get himself tangled in the throes of mindless passion. And he knows well enough it's the influence of the district making him ponder the odds of a favorable outcome if he were to reach over and slide his hand over Washington's thigh and lean in to bite his neck.

He doesn't do either of those things, of course, and smothers the thought in the back of his mind to die a slow, painful death. ]

That depends on if it's more prudent to make a mess or not.

[ Is he joking? We just don't know. His delivery is so dry it could catch fire. ]

The districts seem to influence thoughts you already have. Unless you're a mindless beast, you're in control of your actions at all times. It just depends on how good you are at ignoring temptation.

[sixth]

[ After all the wars, special ops, and battles he's been in, to find himself in the single most dangerous situation of his life and not even realize it is about on par with Wash's life. Because this is, without a doubt, the most dangerous predicament he could ever find himself in. One indiscretion and someone will die. Who it will be is impossible to determine, given just how deadly the four people unwittingly involved happen to be, but not everybody will make it out if someone fucks up. And he has no goddamn idea.

The problem here is... Well, there are a lot of problems. The district's kicking his already neglected sex drive into overdrive. He's having some interpersonal problems with the person he really ought to be here with. This guy is too attractive for his own good and his voice reaches down into the violent, reckless part of Wash for inexplicable—if he could place the voice it wouldn't be inexplicable—reasons and needles at his adrenaline. Wash is terrible at social interactions anymore and can't accurately read nuances like flirting. Hot Guy has some really unfortunate word choices.

It sounds a little like a challenge the way he says it. And that makes Wash look at him. Really look at him. It starts as the coolly assessing stare of a soldier eyeing up an opponent and then kindles into the heat of an appreciative, wholly inappropriate once over. ]

Depends on the temptation. [ Jesus Christ, what the fuck is he doing? It's like there's another version of Wash standing back and watching this, appalled at what he's doing. And then there's the rest of him that wants to shove this guy up against the bar and see what all those muscles can do. ] Some of them might be worth it.

[ The drink he's already forgotten he ordered shows up and prevents him from saying something really stupid. He takes a drink, eyes on the guy the whole time. It's not a particularly impersonal stare, but something more akin to hunger. Quit it, he tells himself as he licks liquor off his lips. Just stop it. ]

You don't think so?

[classification]

[ Oh, it's a fairly easy guess who will die if anything goes too far in one direction. Locus already knows the count is at one already and they're just talking. Two if Felix gets angry enough. ( Currently, he doesn't realize there's a fourth player in this game, but it will be something he'll ponder later. )

If it's any consolation, Locus has no idea what flirting is or how to do it. It's like a distant and foreign thing that he's only seen Felix do on missions ( or other ) when he's out looking for something. Locus doesn't do it because it's too close to playing games. And, as it stands, Locus really doesn't have much of a taste for games. They waste time.

Which is why he doesn't really get the intended purpose or mortal dilemma Wash is facing right now. Locus thinks they're just having a conversation until he can extract himself and not give away who he is. ....Which, he should've already done by now. He shouldn't even be sitting here trying to talk to Washington at all.

Try as he might to keep his eyes at an amicable level, Locus' gaze drops right to Washington's mouth and watches the path of his tongue. That's troublesome. Locus has never really given much thought to anyone's mouth before and things he may or may not want to do with said mouth. But, he finds his thoughts are starting to drift in that direction. Quickly, he averts his gaze and thinks about eating lemons. ]

I don't like messes.

[ That, at least, is the truth and not one made up just to keep this charade. Locus hates messes so much. Usually because he's the one who has to clean them up. ]

However, some ventures may prove worthy if the right track is taken.

[sixth]

[ Wash isn't much for games either, unless they're the long sort of game that ends with the fulfillment of vengeance. The social games people play with each other just aren't his idea of a good or valid use of one's time.

Usually.

Right now, as he watches the guy watch the way he licks his lips, he thinks maybe some games aren't such a bad thing. Some of them are actually kind of fun. This one makes the strangest feeling of power and satisfaction curl warmly through his gut. People don't flirt with Wash. That it's happening now is a novel enough experience that, coupled with the effects of the district, he enjoys it.

Wash takes another drink. That isn't part of the game. The next, much slower, pass of his tongue over his lips, however, is.

Casually, he sets his elbow on the bar, twisting so that he's facing the guy more than anything else. Then, ever so subtly he leans toward him. ]

Enlighten me. What's the right track?

[classification]

[ This is really dangerous. In spite of telling himself no, he still looks again as Washington licks his lips for a second time. It's not that Locus is dotting here fantasizing about kissing him or anything, but he'd be lying if he said the thought didn't cross his mind.

A couple times.

Right now.

He finds himself mimicking the motion without meaning to. Coming to this district proably wasn't the best idea. Why did he do this? First time in fifteen years he's making conscious decisions and this is what he does to himself.

And only makes it worse by the fact he, too, turns toward Washington a little more. They're too close, so their knees bump. It's small, but there's a little electric bolt of something and Locus smothers it until it's murdered inside his brain in a gruesome crime scene.  ]

If I have to tell you, it's not the right one.

[ What's that? A light dusting of amusement in his tone?? More likely than you think!! ]

[sixth]

[ Having successfully used this tactic now, Wash recognizes that lick for what it is. Unfortunately, knowing it's meant to be enticing doesn't prevent it from being so. His eyes track the guy's tongue, lingering seconds too long on his mouth.

Briefly, he wonders what it might be like to kiss him. A little less briefly, he wonders what it would feel like to tangle his fingers in his hair, pull back his head, and claim those lips. He's never been with someone with long hair. Already he can think of half a dozen ways to take advantage of it.

Clearing his throat, Wash shifts, accidentally rubbing his knee against the man's leg. The next brush isn't accidental at all. Neither is the nonchalant nudge of the tip of his shoe against his ankle as Wash leans closer and lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ]

Just between you and me, I'm actually pretty good at finding my way in unfamiliar territory.

[classification]

[ Klaxon warning blare loudly in Locus' head as they somehow manage to get even closer and touch more. Were he Felix, he could use this more to his advantage. Use Washington to the point he's in a compromising position and then get information out of him. ...Or kill him. That's far more likely the outcome if it's Felix.

But, Locus isn't Felix. He doesn't know how to navigate this sort of situation with grace and finesse. He can only sort of blindly stumble through it and hope he doesn't bumble it up before it's the right time.

Then again, what is the right time? What is he waiting for?

Rapidly, Locus feels like this is spinning out of control and he doesn't know what to do to correct the course. This is why Felix always deals with everyone and Locus only steps in when intimidation is needed. ]

It's not as unfamiliar as you might think. [ Um. ] Ah, I mean because we're both human. And [ god why ] have similar... [ you know ] needs.

[ Sam Ortez: smoothe as warm butter..................... ]

[sixth]

[ At some point far, far, far in the future, this is going to make for a funny story to tell people. It is. These sorts of stupid situations are always hilarious in hindsight. Or Wash is going to be horrifically mortified and never speak of it. Ever. To anyone.

Which might turn out to be a good thing, because what he does next will get him brutally, messily murdered if the wrong, rat-faced party happens to find out about it. ]

Guess that does make it easier, doesn't it?

[ It's almost—almost but not quite—an accident, the way Wash's free hand drops to his side and settles on the guy's knee. It's a little less of one when he slides it up along his thigh until the tips of his fingers are just slipping beneath that thing he's wearing. He should be thinking of other things, but between the rapidly thickening fog of lust blanketing his brain and the weird tingling sensation the drink's sparked in his stomach, thinking isn't really something Wash is doing anymore. ]

You want to take care of some of them?

[classification]

[ All right. It's gone beyond the shrieking warnings and directly into the Tartarus crashing down on him. This is bad. Very, very bad. Because of various reasons, not least of all beginning with this being Agent Washington. If Felix were to happen upon them here, it would be messier than anything anyone in Ira has ever seen before. There would be no coming back from this and would just further cement the farce of Locus being obsessed with Washington.

He's not and never has been, but Felix refuses to see it that way.

And, okay, right now Locus is thinking less with his head and more with his dick than he has in years. Washington is attractive enough, that much is obvious. But, Locus knows that thinking more along the lines of satisfaction have no real boundaries. Washington could be anyone and Locus would feel the same.

What he should do is remove Washington's hand from his leg, preferably by stabbing it with a fork. What he does instead is get out of the seat and gestures for Washington to follow. Though, not for the intention likely assumed. What's going to happen requires a measure of privacy because it could get loud or messy or both. ]

Follow me.

[sixth]

[ At the invitation, Wash gets up too. Some part of his compartmentalized brain screams at the rest of it to think about what the fuck he's doing. Because it sure as hell looks like they're going somewhere private. Still oblivious to who he's talking to, Wash can only assume that it's for some sort of sexual satisfaction

And he shouldn't be doing that. It's cheating. He isn't a cheater. He isn't unfaithful! The rational part of his brain tries so hard to make that point hit home. But he's angry. He can be terribly petty when he's angry. And the part of him that's thinking with his dick shoots back at this argument that maybe there's a limit with someone who's tried to kill him numerous times and doesn't seem to fucking appreciate him.

Later, he'll be ashamed of himself for that too. ]

Sure. [ It isn't necessary to say it, given that he's following him, but he does it anyway. ] Lead the way.

[ He'll just be appreciating the view. ]

[classification]

[ On one of his passes through the area, he had discovered a few alcoves tucked away for a modicum of privacy. Pretty little nooks with twisted vines and sweet smelling flowers. Were he the sort to appreciate that sort of thing, he might. But, he's not. So, he doesn't. They'll provide enough cover and if anyone sees them duck into one, they'll be left alone, considering the intentions of this district.

He finds one unoccupied and dips under the archway with the thick columns dusted in gold and vines with little pink flowers circling all the way up. Only slightly has his heartrate elevated because he knows what he's going to do and hates having to reveal himself. But, this has gone too far and if he allows it to go further, they're both going to regret what comes after. Better to end this and stop anything from happening later.

Once Washington is enclosed in the area too, he moves quick and whirls on him in a bid to pin him against the wall yet not really touching. One hand is firmly planted against the wall behind him, the other he would aim to rest against Washington's shoulder. As much as he hates himself for it, he does look at Washington's mouth first before dragging his gaze back up. His tone is a low, warm murmur, ]

You let your guard down too easily.

[sixth]

[ And just like that, everything changes.

Wash hits the wall before he's quite aware that he's being redirected toward it. Immediately, adrenaline shoots through him, the fight response—there's no fight or flight, the latter has been trained out of him for years—kicking in and preparing him for battle. But he doesn't attack yet or seek to break the guy's hold on him. He just looks at him, gaze sharper now with the promise of violence hanging over them. There's no fear in his expression. No concern for the possible threat to his safety. ]

You think I'm not capable of defending myself just because I'm attracted to you?

[ Slowly, Wash smiles. It's a sharp, predatory grin, all confidence and challenge. Because he's a goddamn Freelancer and even before the Project, he's never been afraid of a fight.

He leans forward, not in an attempt to dislodge the hand on his shoulder but simply to get into the guy's space. To breathe his air. To meet the challenge with one of his own. His voice drops into a low, almost velvety purr, but there's no seduction in it. No awkward overtures. ]

If you're looking for a fight, you're in for a surprise.