paradisalogs | [Closed] Video games, go!

"Oh." She knew more people here than he did. He'd have to get out more. He couldn't rely on her for everything. "I should probably do something like that too. I need to find something I could be good at."

She didn't know that many more people, Kittikins. "You could. Ooh, I think I might go down to the hot springs later. Nothing says lovin' like hot massagy water."

Maybe he just needed to meet some who could steer him in the direction of a job. "I didn't know there were hot springs. Wouldn't a bath do just as well?"

"Nah. You can only soak in a bath. Some hot springs have, like... bubbly bits. Besides, if you go in the springs, you'll see the difference. You should come. I might need someone to bring my towel," she teased, nudging her foot out at him.

He nodded. "Natural minerals dissolved into the water. That would make a difference. The natural setting would also provide a refreshing change of pace. Do you have a bathing suit?" He didn't have any swimsuits, but he'd obligingly carry her towel along for her.

"Thanks to Fred, yeah. Let me borrow some moolah," she smiled, sipping her coffee.

"You can totally rock your manties, though." Snicker.

Fred again. "That was very nice of Fred to do that for you." He smiled back, faking it.

"I don't. Know. What those are." Frown.

"Fred's a total doll." She rested her head on the back of the couch, poking his toe with hers.

"Manties. Man-panties. Boxers, briefs, boxer-briefs. Whatever it is you got going on down there."

He was sure they'd be very happy together. Hence his offer of the night before. It still stood, even if she was convinced she wouldn't need it. "I'm glad."

"Oh." And just how did she know that he could rock his? He didn't even want to think about it. He couldn't help the surreptitious glance he cast down at himself, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "Is there a particular type that is appropriate? Fashionable?" He'd hate to think he was out of style. His ego, such that it was, wouldn't allow it.

"You're glad? Why're you glad? You feel like meeting dolls or something?"

She caught that glance, and she hid the smirk. "No, not really. I mean, I don't think you should rock a thong in public, not that you couldn't, but... you know, maybe boxers or something that covers all your pertinent man-bits."

"I'm happy you found someone you hit it off with." That was all. Perfectly polite. He took another sip of his coffee, managing to come up with a smile.

"Maybe I should stick to carrying your towel."

"Me too," she agreed, taking another sip. "Fred's been great. Lending me money, giving me free booze and food. Letting me know about the brain-sucking wishes. You'd probably like her."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, shush. If you're carrying my towel, you're totally bringing your own, too."

His brain zeroed in on the one crucial piece of information in that statement, dismissing everything else. Her? Fred was a woman? As he'd forgotten everything prior to that one word, he could smile and nod and turn his head away while he rolled his eyes at himself, wondering why it was so important to him.

What was she talking about? He had to scroll back over in his mind. "I'm not wearing these... manties." He'd be content to watch her rocking her bathing suit instead.

"Aww, but I bet you'd look good in them. Maybe we can find you a boysuit, then. Speedos?" She asked, innocently. She even added a little eyelash flutter with it.

"Absolutely not." He'd had the distinct displeasure of seeing Michael in those horrid things exactly once, and it had scarred him for life. He was mortally wounded, a pain he would carry with him for all eternity. She didn't even get a smile for suggesting those monstrosities.

Damn. Well, she'd tried. "Fine, we'll get you something less... spandexy." Another sip of her coffee, wondering about what kinds of swimsuits they had for guys. "You could always check the closet or your dresser." Just as the room had given itself a second bed and the sliding screens, it had given them two dressers and split closets. And she could swear the room was bigger...

"Someone mentioned how they sometimes resupply themselves."

"Or I could stick with carrying your towel." His smile was more akin to a smirk now, the smug satisfaction of knowing he'd dodged a bullet. The frown that he never used to have to.

Something about the way she said it made him set his mug aside suddenly, getting up to check his drawers. The dresser's drawers. He sighed, defeated. Speedos. He'd have to get rid of them, sooner rather than later. He made a face at the ceiling, silently cursing the castle.

Dear Castle, you rock. Kenzi had gotten up with him, coming over to his drawers. "Oh hell yeah. You should wear these," she said, reaching in and pulling out a tiger-striped pair. "Rawr, baby."

Then she snickered, swatting his butt and going back to the couch.

He snatched the Speedos out of her hand quickly, balling them up and tossing them over his shoulder. "Never in a million years." Not funny, castle. Not funny at all. He may have to get used to having her swatting at him and being all touchy-feely, but that didn't mean he had to show off for her. Not like this. Never like this. His comment was made through gritted teeth, directed at the ceiling.

"Try. Again."

Then he went and rejoined her on the couch. "Towel boy. Your bathing suit is more appropriate, I hope."

She snorted at that, reaching for her coffee. "Mine probably has less material all together than yours." She gave him a smirk as she sipped her coffee, brows raised in challenge. "Unless that's just too much 'eww' for you to handle..."

"It's more acceptable on women. I'm sure it will be fine. I've seen my share of bikini-clad young ladies in my time." He could rise to her challenge.

"Well, then I'm sure my boring old bikinis won't bother you in the slightest. Maybe I'll go put one on now, so I have it on when I want to go to the springs."

"Be my guest." Why should it bother him? He'd had such ladies use him as a prop for their model shoots. Why should this be any different? "You know where to find me." He'd just be there, sipping his coffee.

Giving him a look, she got up from the couch and stomped over to her drawers, reaching in and grabbing a suit, then flounced off into the bathroom, chin high.

She changed quickly, taking the time to brush out her hair and wind it up in a high ponytail, then, as nonchalantly as possible, she opened the door and came out, moving over to the table to grab her mug, taking it over to get another coffee, pointedly not looking at him. She was wearing a camo micro-bikini, one that showed her naval piercing. Put that in your muffler and smoke it, carface.

His muffler was smoking, all right. Too much. She may not have been looking at him, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from her, for all that he was trying to. It was ridiculous, really. He'd seen plenty of women in bikinis; she was no different from any of them.

He would just keep telling himself that. If he tried hard enough, he might even manage to convince himself of it. He shifted his position on the couch, folding his arms, making an effort to finish his coffee. That would work. That would distract him. Using the mug as a shield, he dug the nails of his good hand into the bruised knuckles of his injured hand. The pain was enough to snap him out of his daze.

"Very nice. I'm sure you'll get a lot of attention."

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