nysalogs | . all you have's your axe to grind . closed

[Solomon best resembles your average Yacht owner. That insult finds a quick eyeroll, arms cross at his chest.]

Don't be absurd.

[It's...a backwards compliment. Damned if he fights it, damned if he doesn't. His response should work both ways.]

I see you've neglected to bring your own soaps.

[Does he even possess soap? Shampoo? More impertinent would be a change of clothing, but leave it to Solomon to freak out over minute details that he doesn't even care about because he'd rather use his own fake-extravagant soaps. The kind that have like two ingredients. Anyway...]

Before we begin, would you care for a drink?

[Like green tea or lemon water. Parsley.]

[But where's the yacht? Looking like a yacht owner but not having one is just a supreme form of self-drag. It's embarrassing!

Maybe assuming that Solomon would look better naked is absurd. On the off chance that the man is right, and his pale form is a beast of the unappealing sort to behold, Takasugi lets the matter drop.

As for soap...

In Wyver the main market seems to be coagulated jungle foliage and pumice stones. Both of which he owns, but didn't bother to bring. Surely Solomon is bougie enough to own more than one bar of soap. Not that he has high hopes for the scent.]

Aa. [He's not particularly parched, but he's indulged Solomon enough by even showing up. The least the man can do is wait on him. Takasugi pulls a chair from the table he's perched against, sitting sideways to properly ~~manspread~~ drape himself over it.]

Don't waste your time making something complicated- [Dismissive of the hospitality he's been offered, Takasugi watches with dull interest as Solomon pours their glasses.]

[Pls buy him a yacht during these wartimes...mundo important.

Were he aware of Takasugi's pumice stone collection he would thank him for not providing. Instead, there's a beverage conundrum to tackle and he's moving off to do just that. Something complicated is subjective.

He'll be brewing some tea.

Which requires more effort than, like, pouring water from a faucet into a cup, but it's least of all difficult to produce in terms of appropriateness and such.

They shouldn't get hammered before a bath, what a way to go.]

Was it difficult finding your way here?

[Smalltalk. Like they're living in LA suburbs...like he gives a shit.]

[Utterly disgusting. He'd absolutely freeload rides regularly. ~~They deserve each other.~~

Takasugi recognizes immediately the sounds of water being set to boil. Tea suits him well enough, though he doubts it compliments Solomon as well. The man is more like... tepid water.

But, he does appreciate the choice. Water in Wyver tastes like swamp, a strong enough tinge to muddle any delicacy tea there could have. That, and their local leaves are made from local product. It's like putting a rotting tree into a puddle of mud.

Takasugi looks like he just drank some of that muckwater, eyes dull and tongue scraping the back of his teeth. What an annoying question.]

What blend are you making? [So he wont answer it, fuck you. Instead he'll ask a similarly mundane question. ~~This is stupid.~~]

[What a dangerous game they're playing here.

There's a teapot being set to boil, an uncertain look finds Takasugi's general direction; what blend...he doesn't care about that. There's no way he does.]

Oolong. [It's still something that can be negotiated, he's only begun warming the kettle.] I've only just found something similar to Darjeeling. Is that alright?

[How is this any less exhausting of the conversation than the conversation he tried at with regards to the ROUTE OVER.]

I would have chose Chrysanthemum, but you mentioned simplicity and I haven't prepared any snacks.

[Who will get bored and do something exceedingly stupid and/or violent first? It's like some sort of mundane chicken. No one is having fun.

He actually does care about the blend, thank you. Solomon may be too posh to notice, but Takasugi is also a lush, and absolutely cares about brand and the locale of his food. Meaning, he wants something Japanese.

Matcha or die.]

Do you have green tea? [He asks for simple, now he asks for green tea, the literal hardest tea to prepare.

It's less exhausting because now the one suffering is Solomon, with the topic draining their souls up to Takasugi's discretion.]

[Solomon stops all at once, audibly, somehow. His hands fall, purposely slamming the tea infuser somehow. He's like a housewife that's been doing chores all day, who's just arranged the perfect dinner only to have her husband request McD's.

Except he's done absolutely nothing today and has only just set water to boil. That's the most he's done.]

Naturally.

[That's like, the one tea everyone has, you pain in the ass.]

Is that what you'd like?

[^^^Strained.^^]

[How perturbed Solomon is resounds clearly from the sharp clang of metal on counter. It sounds like it could have chipped something; the entire reaction puts a crack in Takasugi's veneer of boredom.

He's wearing a smile now, any and all fatigue drained from his face.

As if this situation calls for some sort of predatory approach.]

Yeah.

[Waves his hand, suddenly now impatient for his beverage. Solely because it might annoy Solomon.] My throat's dry.

Are you not feeling well?

[He'll do it. He'll get his goddamn green tea leaves and begin the process of filtering...with an eye on the bot, lest it start boiling. He did have the heat up fairly high for optimizing purposes.]

I'll have to add some honey, if that's the case.

[Missed opportunities for Solomon to freak about catching the zika virus. If only he could catch viruses. That would make his day. Then he could die. Anyway, his movements are still rather stiff, the collection process isn't done without sufficient too-hard-cabinet/drawer/etc closes and openings. He could be worse about it all, but this is pretty bad. Stop hanging out at smokey taverns and such, hmph.]

No, I don't want it sweet.

[Snipped, spit far more quickly than necessary. As if honey was being dangled over the cup at that very moment. As if someone near and dear to him choked on honey and died, and now the mention of it triggers him.

Mostly, he's being contrary. To Solomon, and out of a decades long aversion to sweets he'd invented purely due to spite.

And, his throat never felt dry in the first place.] Though, since you're feeling helpful, you can wash my back later.

[Hmhm hm. Somehow, he was already aware Takasugi was the type of tea-drinker to drink it plain, unsweetened. This is just a roundabout method of pointing out how extra he's being while..not...at all being extra.

Fussing and fussing in turn comes naturally, is all. He turns his back to the brew, arms crossed. Takasugi's being regarded like a dog that's just shit the bed.]

Isn't that backwards? Not that this sort of thing should be considered a favor...

[That said: Solomon will probably want to scrub Takasugi down?? He's probably super grimy.]

[Much like a dog that just shit the bed, Takasugi regards Solomon as if he's completely innocent. A cocked head, eyebrow raised in faux misunderstanding of what called for such consternation.]

Ah. It's basic hospitality. I shouldn't have expected otherwise.

I didn't meant to insult you.

[BUT NOW HE DOES - take that backhanded compliment!

As for Takasugi's state of cleanliness, he's actually only minimally musky. Just a bit of sweat in the summer's heat, and maybe a spot or two of dirt on his feet and shins. But he'll let Solomon think what he wants; he's intent on that back wash.]

[His features scrunch togetherish in a near-scowl. BASIC hospitality...bitch..don't even pretend like u go into people's houses and get royal baby treatment.]

We'll have to wait see, hm?

[Maybe they'll be too busy for backrubs and scrubs. That would be ideal. While the tea handles itself, Solomon shifts about the room, setting up a dish with weird alien cookies spread upon it. Takasugi said he wasn't hungry, didn't care for sugar, but he's just behaving according to basic hospitality standards.

He'd set out some cheese and crackers if he felt like implementing that sort of effort.]

Where is it that you normally bathe?

[An innocent question, since Takasugi's bathroom could be the birthplace of that virus that almost killed everyone in Olympia way back when. Surely he doesn't use it. It's not practical.]

[The deeper Solomon's scowl grows, the more self-assured Takasugi's smile becomes. He's all but draped on the table, leaning back against it and spreading his - dirty, by Solomon's accusation - arms over it.

A shift in posture that reveals more of his chest. There's a blurry line where skin gets paler, though what's tan and what's grime is undiscernible.

This is him. 'Waiting to see.' ~~And narrowing his eye about the cookies.~~]

Thesa. [Maybe, if his shower actually ever had running water, he'd endeavor the plague-ridden tracts of his bathroom. But it's not even an option. Sometimes there's a wet slopping from that unused room. Sludge? A monster traveling the pipes?

He'd never bothered to check.]

But I'm sure your accommodations will be charming. [Charming. Quaint. In that southern 'bless your heart' kind of way.]

[For the sake of all that's holy, after Solomon's finished setting up a platter of cookies and brought it to the table, he'll be putting the finishing touches on their tea; there's a strainer involved and I feel worse than Martha Stewart about writing the whole thing out....good lord...

Thesa, the name's never brought so much relief. So he does know how to bathe -- the request about having his back washed is in contempt..so on and so forth. Not that knowing to seek out proper bathing receptacles is indicative of understanding the process, but he's inferring many things. Takasugi's not a moron, even if he lives in destitution.]

Is that--

[No, nope. He's not going to spend the entire day asking Takasugi whether everything he says is meant to hurt his feelings in some way. A sigh takes place of such questioning, two corny fucking pristine white teacups are bought to the table. One's offered to Takasugi along with a folded napkin.]

I do like my guests to feel at ease.

[Yah. The 1 person who's visited, Takasugi Shinsuke.]

[Visibly relieved, Solomon looks almost as if he truly questioned Takasugi's basic hygiene. Which is fair, given the locale he chooses when he's hosting Solomon as a guest. But the assumption is enough to set his brow and leave his fingers curled on the table.

There's a limit to how foolish he'll let himself be regarded.

Even, or perhaps especially, with regard to the facets of mundane life.

Implacable, his smile remains - not polite. It never was.

With lips curled upwards, he takes a sip of the too-hot beverage. It tastes... fine.] Smother them with too much comfort, and they'll get bored. [Clink. He sets his tea back down and reaches for a cookie.

Only to toy with it in his (grungy) fingers, still on the plate.]

[He's occupying the seat nearest Takasugi, a leg crossed over another, likely revealing too much of a pasty thigh in the process. He's busy stirring his tea with a tiny obnoxious spoon, it's tapped against the rim to be rid of excess.]

Are you bored?

[Focused on that cookie he's fidgeting with as opposed to his face. I can't believe they're playing tea time together.]

I can draw the bath if you're growing impatient, it should only take a moment. Should I be aware of any allergies-? Scents that you dislike?

[If he weren't such a fruit this would be a classic case of trolling.]

[Pasty thigh is preferable to the fashion disaster Solomon had revealed a glimpse of when Takasugi arrived. Really, he should take off the ensemble entirely, climb in the bath...

It's difficult not to be bored, when the most active thing to set his eye on is a spoon clinking obnoxiously against porcelain.]

Hmm. [Is he bored? No. But he's fine with Solomon getting the impression that he is - he can certainly see it from here.

Solomon may be genuine, asking for Takasugi's preferences, but he takes the questions as a sorry attempt to insult him via hollow placation. He doesn't echo the man's courteous tone.]

Go ahead. I'll finish my tea- [He drops the cookie and raises the cup for another drink. As if he plans on savoring it, the taste they both know is nothing special.

Really, he'll probably down it quickly once Solomon leaves, and meet him in the bathroom. Slide past the door frame and get real close behind his host.] Ready to wash my back?

[Takasugi doesn't jump to inform him of any sensitivities or rosacea; interesting, considering how neglectful he seems to be regarding himself...but he won't ask again. In all likelihood, Takasugi probably wouldn't even realize if he had something like miliaria.

So, anyway, he does rise up at that dismissal, prepared to abandon a full cup of tea -- his tiny babby spoon balanced perfectly across the rim, diagonally.]

Enjoy it. [Lacking hostility, even though he seemed bipolar in preparing it all. He does bear a frown as the backwash is pressed once more...] If you're unable to reach something, I don't mind helping you.

[There. He'll step out of the room with those parting words, not without giving his company's shoulder a light, passing squeeze. Brief but suggestive?? All the same. As promised, he doesn't take any detours, heads straight for their pristine bathroom (near blinding in cleanliness) and starts filling the tub with warm (hotter side) water...and a copious amount of bubbles. If he's to share a bath with someone that hasn't indulged in one for himself in who knows how long, he'd like not to be distracted by the quality of the water and its immediate blackening.

Depending on how quickly Takasugi downs his tea, he'll either find Solomon testing the water with his fingers as it fills the tub, or in a state of undress (thank god).]

[Framing the service as compensation for an inadequacy is a valiant effort to dissuade Takasugi. His pride is always swollen, more of an affliction than any rash could ever be. But what he'd set out for is a back wash, damn it.

So that's what he'll get.

Next time Solomon touches him, it will be skin to skin. Suggestive, but not lewd. ~~Probably?~~

Tragically, Takasugi arrives before Solomon has shed any clothing, though he makes up for the lack of skin bared quickly. Yukata shed, there isn't much more to remove; he unwraps his fundoshi without the faintest sense of shame.

The most embarrassing thing about this entire ordeal are the bubbles. He's more of a bath bomb sort of guy-] I hope you'll pamper me like you pamper yourself-

[Takasugi's not patient enough to wait an entire tag to get into this bath. Rather than step in, he moves closer to Solomon, tugging the robe from his shoulders and unbuttoning his shirt. Not with urgency, but hardly meandering.

Once the process is well enough started, he'll climb in, settling down into the warm water with a sigh and a roll of the shoulders. It doesn't immediately turn murky, he isn't that dirty, but his hair is certainly looking the worst it ever has. Greasy AND damp is a terrible combination.]

[The bath's more or less preparing itself by the time Takasugi arrives, undoes his clothing and hassles him. Solomon was content to act the part of an aside, almost. Just a regular host trying to set up an ordinary bubblebath.

For children.]

Inviting you here should have been enough.

[As far as indulging went, spoiling. He'd put most of that consideration into green tea and cookie snacks. There's little fight involved when Takasugi starts removing his clothes, but he won't help either. It just happens, and he'll act like it's a completely natural transpiration between them. It helps, that he doesn't find himself repulsive in the nude. Moreover, he'd been anticipating some bit of intimacy with Takasugi since the invitation.

For a moment, he'll just watch Takasugi's greasy, scarred ass settle in the tub. In the next, he's standing, moving to the door to lock it. It's only then that he starts unzipping his unsightly shorts. Much more of an eyesore than any amount of scarring his company's body could ever bear.

The added security is a product of something at the back of his mind; it would've been a pain in the ass if Diva were to discover then. She'd be more distracted/interested in the cookies left out, sure, but only for so long. The fact that she's aware of some strange bond between them is bad enough.]

Is the temperature to your liking? [It can fill a slight bit more, enough to reconcile. His shirt and shorts eventually, finally join the messy heap of laundry on the floor.

His undies, tho, he's keeping them on. Black boxer briefs, one for everyday of the week. He's stepping in with that, favoring the end of the tub closer to the knobs just in case.]

[Posed with the decision between a musty, rotting hovel, and Solomon's overbearing play at being a good host, Takasugi prefers the crumbling scenery. Propriety isn't lost on him, but Solomon's attempt at it is a performance.

As ridiculous as a costume.

They'd be better suited to the scrungy bathhouse Takasugi had suggested, or just festering in their own sweat in the swamp.

Inviting him here was a compromise, not a favor.

Motion in his periphery doesn't draw Takasugi's attention away from the bubbles that have swollen up around him. He breaches the water's surface with his thumb, brushing the bottom of the foam. He's too calloused to feel any soft popping - it's just an idle motion.

He casts a glance to Solomon only when addressed. Not that it's worth answering - he's silent as the man climbs in, still wearing his underwear. The garment receives a pointed look before it, too, is subsumed by the bubbles.

What is wrong with you?

Leading with an outstretched arm, Takasugi draws closer. Bubbles well up between them, reaching his collarbone only to fizzle audibly as he presses his chest into Solomon's. Bringing his legs to rest on either side of the man's waist is a bit awkward, but he doesn't slip.

He's hanging his weight off of his host's neck, arm looped around him.

Like this, Solomon can reach his back. Takasugi's head lulls, resting that nasty hair against the man's shoulder. With an exhale that's more pronounced than necessary, he relaxes.] When you're done with my back, you can wash my hair.

[Greedy.]

Edited 2018-08-11 13:49 (UTC)

[No sooner than he'd parked his ass in the tub, Takasugi's all over him like a koala in a tree. For all of five seconds, he's happy to oblige; while it's completely weird and 500% suspicious, Takasugi's being affectionate? Cute? Maybe the tea put him in an extra good mood, maybe the sweets--

Ah.]

So, you haven't forgotten.

[He might have been lowkey hoping he found some motivation in the bubblebath to tend to his own back. Then again, he's yet to introduce Takasugi to the various sponges and backscrubs they have to offer. Something he should have done five minutes (give or take) ago.]

Were I to wash any part of you, I would start with your hair. Otherwise the grime from your hair would sully your back all over again.

[As if to enunciate this point, he does envelope Takasugi with both arms, traces the width of his shoulders once or twice only to slide along his down in tandem. He isn't one for practical jokes -- horseplay, but desperate times...

All of that said, he's gonna go ahead and move to sit up, knock him over -- CAREFULLY. For all of his violent whims, he'd like not to give Takasugi a concussion over a competition to see who's going to wash whos back. The motion's only meant to topple him onto his back, pin him in place...also without drowning him. Just enough to soak him entirely, hair included.

He's the hulk in a twink's body.]

[He doesn't forget a damn thing.

Petty indiscretions from a decade ago replay clearly in his memory. He's the sort of guy who will count how many times a certain annoying quirk comes up, or keep score in a mundane competition only he's aware of.

What a treasure.

Solomon's talking, not washing his back; Takasugi growls. An almost inaudible sound, it's easier to notice in the disrupted bubbles between them, a few clumps flying through the air to settle on the ends of Solomon's curls.

His hair may be greasy, but at least it's not wavy.

The physical affection does nothing to alleviate his irritation, but it's enough to put any complaints on pause. Takasugi's shoulders stretch into the careful motions, but he barely gets time to consider truly relaxing into it before he's shoved onto his back.

Legs as awkwardly splayed as they were, he slips down without much resistance. His knees remain above the water, though mostly submerged in fizzling bubbles. Where his head goes under, a hole in the foam reveals his face.

A deep set scowl, too clear through the foggy air.

The bandage around his head slips, loosening enough for more clumps of hair to drift heavily in the water. It reveals more of his features, but nothing marred - he's not quite so disheveled.

Just too annoyed with being so easily toppled to keep wearing his coy smile. ~~He may have relaxed, just a little.~~

Raising one hand from the water, the crash of drops on its surface loud juxtaposed with the soft trickling moments before, he reaches to grab for Solomon. His hair, ideally, but he'll settle for a shoulder or bicep.

Pull him down and resurface, all in one.] Then start.

[An ariel view of this would have been much funnier -- he sort of has one, but the knees up thing is quite possibly the most important detail. There is something charming in seeing him entirely disheveled, something he'd be able to enjoy a bit more if he weren't in such close proximity, enough to invite immediate retribution.

It comes, and it isn't half as harsh as he'd been anticipating. A tub isn't exactly the best place for pool-style play, and some part of him is appreciative that Takasugi didn't opt to concuss him against the side of the tub.

Not that a concussion for him means much.....but it's the thought that counts.]

Oh, I already have.

[He's quickly moving to sit up at that, brush his eyes of suds and water, both equally feeling unpleasant. He'll turn his face into that wrist if it's lingering anywhere near his hair still, pressing a apologetic kiss to it (if not, he'll manually lift his hand to provide an opportunity for such a gross act).]

Your hair needed to be wet in order for me to begin.

[A paltry explanation for his OOC behavior. He'll move to collect that bandage next, gathering it between both hands and neatly winding it into itself between his palms. It's completely soaked, likely unusable in the future, but he'll act as though it can be salvaged until properly proven otherwise.

It finds an eventual place outside of the tub, ontop of the supa clean rug.]

Sit up and turn away from me.

[Said as he's probably trapping Takasugi's legs between himself and the tub...........]

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remember when i said he'd take off takasugi's bandages

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