[Empty and abandoned as it is, aside from the dim grey light from the cracks in the closed windows and doors, the only thing illuminating the room is the cool blue-green glow of the Transistor in his hands. Just enough for mood lighting, once the eyes adjust. He leans it against the wall midway between them to free his hands and light the room, for now. Doesn't go far, as she calls out. Seems this was some sort of professional space, more workroom or storage place than residence. But it works. He finds a sealed crate full of something that's good enough to lift but heavy enough to try barring the door with. Worst case, they start stacking. As he sets the box down in front of her—]
Boxer's fine. [Hah. There's a self-effacing wry tilt to it, but this isn't a joke, promise.] Same to you.
[Any lady who can keep her wits with a crazy probably-metaphysical storm rolling in is already a pleasure. (Lightning flashes beyond the door, and even after the thunder is done rolling through the air he can feel it. The odd electromagnetic timespace disruption that cracks in like a shot and lingers like ozone afterward. Buzzing through his nerves and his attention, like the world's fuzzed out for a moment, gone distant and staticy and strange. He sort of flinches, as if from the sound, braces himself against the crate he'd just deposited next to Allura. Half expects an Overload to kick him back out of place where tempting fate with the rain didn't. But the feeling dims, evens out to a low discomfort, and it holds...for now.)
Backlit by the light of the Transistor, (it flickers noticeably with the disturbance, then eases back to a steady glow,) he pushes himself up. His smile goes a little rueful, a sight strained. But...first things first.]
Wish it was under better circumstances. [He knocks his wrapped knuckles against the crate to prompt her to slide over so he can slot it into her place at the door and free her of her responsibility as doorstop.] Try that.
no subject
Boxer's fine. [Hah. There's a self-effacing wry tilt to it, but this isn't a joke, promise.] Same to you.
[Any lady who can keep her wits with a crazy probably-metaphysical storm rolling in is already a pleasure. (Lightning flashes beyond the door, and even after the thunder is done rolling through the air he can feel it. The odd electromagnetic timespace disruption that cracks in like a shot and lingers like ozone afterward. Buzzing through his nerves and his attention, like the world's fuzzed out for a moment, gone distant and staticy and strange. He sort of flinches, as if from the sound, braces himself against the crate he'd just deposited next to Allura. Half expects an Overload to kick him back out of place where tempting fate with the rain didn't. But the feeling dims, evens out to a low discomfort, and it holds...for now.)
Backlit by the light of the Transistor, (it flickers noticeably with the disturbance, then eases back to a steady glow,) he pushes himself up. His smile goes a little rueful, a sight strained. But...first things first.]
Wish it was under better circumstances. [He knocks his wrapped knuckles against the crate to prompt her to slide over so he can slot it into her place at the door and free her of her responsibility as doorstop.] Try that.