( 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

[douchebag]

[ Something dark and dangerous flickers to life in his eyes when Locus turns to face him and he gets a good look at him. It's as familiar as it is alien: something he's seen on the faces of others and never on Locus. It makes him wonder how long he's been here and who he's been with. Swiftly on the heels of those thoughts comes another: how long would it take to burn this district down to its foundations and how could he go about ensuring that none escapes its destruction. Not even Locus' surprise at seeing the huragok can fully shake him from it.

Felix tells himself it doesn't matter. He's dead. Nothing matters.

It matters. ]

There's a whole city out there. [ His gesture toward the edge of the district and the city beyond it is as sharp as the tone of his voice. ] You must not have noticed.

[ There's a feathery tentacle skimming up the back of his neck and messing up his hair. Huffing in irritation, Felix slaps it away. Bored huragoks—he's assuming it's bored, otherwise he has to consider other options and he really doesn't want to go there—are proving to be an obnoxious problem. ]

I'm taking it back to the ship to see if it can get the Pelican running. [ His voice turns snide. ] You moving in down here with your little friends or should I get it to check out the ship when it's done?

[ Because now that he knows Locus celebrates killing his partner by going to get laid, the fun Felix might have had here is tainted. He'd rather work. How fucked up is that? ]

[classification]

[ He's not celebrating the death of his partner. It's utterly amazing how quickly Felix can make up stories in his head to suit his needs and/or fantasies.  It's one thing Locus finds utterly annoying about Felix.

Also his snotty attitude, but he doesn't comment on it. Not right now because it will just fuel the fire and Locus is trying not to do that with Felix right now. Not with this weird air between them.

So, he casually finishes his drink, his eyes on the huragok and Felix, wondering what the hell is going on. Or if he even wants to know what's going on. ( Probably not. ) Then he pushes up from the seat and moves around it to head off of the deck to the beach. Oh so casually—for Locus—he glances back over his shoulder, the sea breeze tickling the loose strands of his hair over his face.   ]

All right, let's go.

[ Because, he has to admit, he's interested in seeing what this thing can do. ]

[douchebag]

[ God, he hates him. He hates him so fucking much. It's never more apparent than it is right now, when Locus gets up and manages to make walking around look like something from one of Felix's wet dreams. It's just so goddamn infuriating. Especially when the last fucking thing he ought to be thinking about is his backstabbing fuck of a former partner in any capacity that isn't dead. But he wants him. He's always wanted him. Death and betrayal, oddly enough, doesn't change that.

So maybe Felix hates himself just as much.

The disgustingly attractive backwards glance is met with a glower. Both because it's disgustingly attractive and because Felix wants to get away from him with the same intensity that he wants to lurk around him and run off any would-be fuckbuddies.

Very pointedly, he looks critically at Locus' little skirt and doesn't budge. He's perfectly willing—and completely oblivious that he might be doing it—to make a scene. ]

Where the fuck are your pants?

[classification]

[ There are some things Felix will never know. And that's mostly because Locus won't ever tell him or try to explain. Because it's not something he can explain. And it's just easier for them both. Especially now.

And this has nothing to do with answering where his pants are and something to do with feelings.

Locus looks at Felix, quietly contemplative. It's not a simple look at his face to figure out what he means by the acid bite to his words, but something assessing. Warmly assessing. Which isn't something Locus ever really does. It's from head to toe and back again and for all Locus knows Felix might not even notice the path his eyes take.  ]

Are you coming?

[ Wrong choice of words. Wrong sultry tone altogether.  It shows in a small twitch at the corner of his eye and the way he clears his throat. His gaze might skitter away briefly. Coming to this district was more of a mistake than he realized. ]

Felix, [ He feels a little too warm, suddenly glad for the gauzy sarong. ] let's just go. 

[douchebag]

[ Right now, caught up in an exaggerated form of the usual conflicting spiral Felix's emotions take wherever Locus is concerned, an entire Covenant fleet could be amassing behind him and he wouldn't notice. The huragok is forgotten. The broken Darter and its equally useless Pelican might as well not exist. Nothing does except Felix, his hurricane of emotions, and Locus in weirdass little man-dress.

He sees the look. God knows he's used it on enough people. Locus too, but the stupid bastard has always ignored him or never noticed or cared or who even knows. He recognizes the tone too, though it causes some uneasy cognitive dissonance to hear it come in Locus' voice and be directed at him. But Felix knows it's the district messing with him and probably however many orgasms—he doesn't think about it because he's already teetering on the edge of a homicidal explosion—he's had since he's been there. Because of that knowledge, Felix chooses not to let it slide.

Folding his arms over his chest, he settles a little more fully on his heels and lifts an eyebrow. Just from the look on his face, half sarcastic and half predatory, Locus ought to know what's coming. ]

I haven't spent all day in Sextown. [ It's a lazy drawl. ] So no, I'm not coming. [ He shifts his weight, moving his hips just slightly to draw attention to the fact that he's not hard and therefore not capable of doing so. ] Obviously.

[ And maybe it rankles a little that now that he's here, Locus is in a hurry to leave. ]

What's the big rush anyway? [ He shoots another pointed look toward Locus' barely decent "clothes." And if his voice takes on a dark tone, he's ignoring it. ] You look like you're enjoying yourself here.

[classification]

[ Of course.

Just once in his life he'd like to have Felix let something go. Just once. But, no. He has to call attention to the slight word flub on top of call attention to the sway of his hips. And Locus' attention is unwittingly drawn there. He feels bad about it for half of a milisecond, but then he just doesn't care.

Though it seems like ( and feels like ) such a struggle to drag his gaze yo to an appropriate level, he does. Eventually.

He's not going to apologize for being here. No matter what Felix thinks of him. Or thinks he's been up to, which isn't much of anything ( beyond half of a half of indiscretion with Washington that he plans to highly edit when he tells Felix he's here ). He's trying to be a better, more whole person. And in doing that it means getting back in touch with the parts of himself he long ignored.  ]

There's nothing wrong with enjoying free time. It was my understanding you knew that.

[ If they're going to be petty, he can be, too. Because, honestly, he wouldn't be surprised to learn Felix has been enjoying himself in this particular district.

But, he pushes that thought away because he doesn't want to think about it. A gesture is made to the beach itself, just beyond the deck of the bar.   ]

If you'd care to stay, I'm going further along the beach and you're welcome to come.

[ Stop saying that word.  ]

If you'd rather not, let me know when you're leaving and I will come. [ STOP!!!!  ]  With you.

[ That is not any better. ]

[douchebag]

[ On the one hand, it's entertaining to witness Locus getting all flustered over this. It's not something Felix has ever really gotten to see before and it seems like the kind of opportunity that should be savored and taken advantage of to the fullest. And he would. If things were different.

It's because things aren't different—because he's dead and Locus shoulders a lot of the blame for that—that the other hand exists. Because he can't take advantage of it. He can't sidle up to him and touch him and make any of the myriad insinuations and teasing comments he otherwise would. He's stuck here in this frustrating stall, like a satellite caught in a planet's inescapable orbit, unable to move forward to something new or back to what he lost.

Locus being mostly naked and obviously caught in the thrall of the aphrodisiacs doesn't help. Just like it doesn't help that he knows he's breathing it in and being affected by it too.

His hands drop to brace against his hips. The huragok is already floating off toward Locus, a dark shadow shot through with teal and purple light at the edge of his vision. Felix ignores it. Getting abandoned by one more thing isn't going to upset him. ]

Are you coming or going here, Locus? You seem awfully confused about the whole thing. [ That could be snide, but it isn't. Felix knows he's partially responsible for that whole attempt to be a robot bullshit. It might have been Locus' desire, but he sure didn't try to talk him out of it. ] If you need a few minutes to figure it out, I'm sure there's someone around who can lend a hand.

[ And he has every intention of getting the fuck out of there while Locus is busy getting off. ]

[classification]

You said you didn't want to leave yet! I was offering an alternative.

[ It bursts out of him before he can really stop it from happening. Seems that even now only Felix can get under his skin like no one else can. It's frustrating on so many levels. He can't stand this weird place they're in. Locus isn't one to make many concessions, but he's trying. Felix doesn't seem interested even a little bit.

He stalks back over, his footsteps heavy on the wood beneath his feet. The huragok hovers near him and it's sort of weird and Locus moves around it, expertly dodging one of the feathery tentacles. Once near enough, he leans into Felix's space—his eyes are still dark, his body radiating warmth—with his tone lowered to a hiss. ]

What I'm confused about is you. You act like you despise me, yet you seek me out. [ he straightens and rubs his eyes, tone softening, ] Your signals are mixed; I don't know what you want from me, Felix.

[douchebag]

[ Felix straightens up when Locus gets into his space, instinctively trying to even the physical disparity between them. It puts him a little closer to him, makes it difficult not to touch him. He wants to. He always wants to. And having all that bare skin within such easy reach makes it doubly tempting. But all of that goes flying out the window with what Locus says. ]

I—

[ Want you. Want things to be like they were. Want you to have chosen me, not them. Want to stop wanting you. There are a number of responses Felix could make and none that he wants to. Compressing his lips into a thin line, he looks away. There's nothing he can say that can make things right between them. He knows it, even if he hates that too.

After a moment's uncomfortable silence, he glances back at him. There's frustration in his eyes, along with a little anger and a lot of want. ]

I can't have what I want. [ It's an honest admission, so it comes out quiet and a little tired. He frowns, eyes narrowing. ] And I can't—I died. Do you get that? What do you want? Me to pat you on the shoulder and say it's fine? It's not fucking fine!

[ And he doesn't know how to handle it or how to reconcile what Locus has done with the way he still can't help but feel. ]