paradisalogs | [Closed] Video games, go!

"I'd better have the bathroom all to myself, otherwise you're doing it wrong." She chuckled at the pissed look on his face, heading back to his spawn spot to get him again.

"I'll be sure to tell that one to Michael, next time I see him."

He hadn't even gotten one kill shot in! He could do this, right? It wasn't like he was killing any real humans.

Could that be the problem? It was too much like looking at real people? Former programming become instinct?

A test, then. Some innocuous computer-generated bystander. Someone he knew wasn't being played by her. He took aim, and.

Couldn't do it. He couldn't even kill an avatar. In disgust aimed squarely at himself, he threw the controller to the floor.

"You win."

"What? You're giving up that easily? I didn't peg you as a quitter, Kittikins."

"I'm not a quitter." He'd never been a quitter. Except for that one time, with the acid pit. But he'd had a pretty good excuse then. "You don't understand." He ran his fingers through his hair, winced and shook his hand, then looked at over at her.

"They look too real."

"Dude. I can promise you, it's not. They're pixels on a screen. Look... watch this."

She had her character jump off the roof, landing with a messy splat and long, drawn out death cries, screen painted red. "See? I'm not dead. Not even dinged. I'm good. And shooting you didn't hurt you, did it? So... just... take off the panties and pull on some big boy undies."

"I know that!" But he watched anyway, wanting - no, needing - to be convinced. He was canting his head back and forth, trying to come up with an answer, finally giving up and picking up the controller again.

"It's on."

And with her character RIGHT THERE, he shot it squarely in the head.

"Oh, you sack of scrap metal. You're gonna pay for that, buddy."

And he did. Over, and over, and over, and over, with her laughing like a bad movie villain the whole time. She even teabagged his corpse a few times, tongue sticking out at him while she did it.

Now that he could enjoy himself, relax and get into the spirit of the game, he had to admit, to himself if not to her, that he deserved that. He'd played dirty pool, and it was no longer about winning so much as trying not to be killed by repeatedly. And failing miserably at it, but even that wasn't so bad. She was good. He was impressed. Maybe even a bit admiring.

... He could have done without the teabagging. That was a bit excessive. Still, he was having more fun than he could remember having in quite some time, so that by the time she'd killed him off once and for all, he was - laughing.

She had a wide smile to match his, arms raised in victory as her last kill logged her as the winner. "Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all week. And that is how you kick someone's ass, Kittikins. I'm a lean, mean, death-machine."

Happy Kenzi was happy, doing a little victory dance where she sat.

"I know you will be. You won't leave the room so long as I'm catering to your every whim. I'll be earning my keep." She had a pretty smile when it was genuine and happy. Disconcerted, he had to look away.

"You're really good at this, Kenzi. I'm officially impressed."

"Two weeks, Kitt. Said by your pretty pouty little lips," she got up on her knees, leaning over to tap his lower one with a wide grin, then jumped up on her feet.

"I don't know what I want you to do first; rub my feet or run me a bath. Maybe bath first, because, eww, feet."

"And you've even been drinking. I'm still not sure quite how you did it, but I'm still impressed." What, two weeks? Not two days? He watched her, shaking his head again. He was doing that a lot with her.

"Bath. Please." He could afford to be good-natured about it for the moment. He might not be in two weeks.

"Mmm, bath. Yes. Hot and with bubbles, please," she sighed as she rolled onto her bed, lying on her back and lifting her leg up straight - then further forward until she could work on the lacing of her boot. Being lean came in great for being flexible.

He wasn't watching. That would be wrong.

"You do realize I'll have to be on your side of the room for this, don't you? If that's all right, of course."

"Oh, pff. Obviously that rule is only in place when you're not doing stuff for me." And it certainly didn't apply to her.

One boot off. Next boot up.

"One needs to be sure of these things. Etiquette. Good manners don't cost anything."

He made his way to the bathroom, running the bath just as requested, even making sure to get the temperature just right, the bubbles all... bubbly. And fluffy. And he most certainly was not watching her while he did so, because again, that would be wrong.

She hummed as her boot hit the floor, sitting up and reaching for the half-empty second bottle of wine, taking a swig and smacking her lips in approval. She was about to reach for her shirt to pull up over her head when she remembered she wasn't alone - and her roomie wasn't a girl. Oops.

Oops indeed. Fortunately for her he was taking a moment to tidy up the bathroom, getting things ready for her. He was even humming to himself, a favorite classical melody.

She came in, unbuttoning her pants as she did, bottle of wine dangling from her other hand. "S'it all ready, you amazingly good loser?"

He eyed the wine with a hint of slight disapproval pursing his lips. "All ready, m'lady." He even gestured grandly at the bath. Talk to him in two weeks about being a good loser.

"Ooh, I like that. 'M'lady'." She gave him a waggle of her brows, then nodded her head at the door. "Out, unless you want a show."

Which she wouldn't give, but since he seemed to be all shades of freaked out by nudity, she thought that would do it.

"I thought it added a nice, appropriate touch. Oh." He nodded, scooting out the door. Maybe he'd try that game again, on his own this time.

When he left, she closed the door, setting the wine bottle down by the side of the tub, and stripped. Clothes kicked off to the side, she stepped into the bath, letting out a sound of pure pleasure. Good god, that felt good. "Unf..."

He looked up over the sound of the game, shaking his head before returning his attention to it. She sounded like she was having a good time. Humans certainly enjoyed their comfort, didn't they? If he was honest with himself, and he was, he'd admit to reveling in a good wash and wax, but that was only because Michael took care of those things himself, and Kitt did love teasing Michael about having to do such menial work as scraping bugs off his windshield. It also gave him the opportunity to squirt Michael with his wiper fluid, always a plus. He sighed, putting down the controller, allowing the memories to wash over him. No sense in pretending he didn't miss being with his friends.

But there was only so much wallowing he could do before he'd become morbid. The game provided a good distraction. And he couldn't hear Kenzi that way.

Game on.

She took her time in the bath, waiting until it became tepid and the rest of the wine was gone before draining the tub and getting out. She left her clothes in a pile, snagging a towel to wrap around herself before coming out.

And there he was, playing the game. She snickered softly, padding over to her bed. "Having fun?"

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject