noreasonneeded | IC/Overflow Post

[She couldn’t know what she was asking. He hasn’t explained why he wears his gloves, how stripping them off in front of someone is the single hardest thing he could ever be asked to do. He just looks uncomfortable at the request, hands instinctively drawing close to him. It’s hard not to think about the last time he took them off, for the sake of a job of course, and the disaster that had ensued. Perhaps someday, he can for her. Right now though it’s asking too much. Already he feels a little raw in having brought up Jordie, something he almost has never done in well over a decade. His gaze shifts downwards.]

I’d rather just wash up right now.

Alright. I'll be in the living room when you're done.

[She knew there was a very good chance he would say no. And she feels like the best response is to not make a big deal out of it.]

And I'm sorry. That was a very bold request.

[She doesn't want him to think that she doesn't feel bad, but also to not harp on matters. She can start piecing together the pieces of his story as he gives her whatever little bits he's willing. But as she has made her apology she will leave him alone so he can have privacy.]

[He gives a small shake of his head at her apology. She’s handling it fine, he doesn’t want to make a big deal about it, either.] It’s fine. I’ll be right out.

[Heading into the bathroom, he neatly folds his clothes and showers, washing off the day’s grime. Stella isn’t wrong, the water pressure is wonderful and he keeps the temperature steaming hot. While he doesn’t linger, he does enjoy how good it feels. Stepping out and toweling dry, he faces the conundrum he already knew would happen. Putting dirty clothes back on. He can’t help it with his pants and socks. His suit shirt though bears the worst of the blast with tearing and soot stains. He knows she said she doesn’t mind him dirtying her sofa, but he’d rather avoid it where he can.

The alternative is wearing just his undershirt. It’s a plain gray one, short sleeved, which would show the skin of his arms from his gloves to where the sleeve starts. Which feels a bit silly after his reticence with his gloves, even though it’s not the same in his mind. Any bare skin feels exposed and vulnerable, but his hands are especially.

He’s getting cold and irritated with himself for overthinking it. He dresses in his pants, socks, gloves, and undershirt. On his right arm are visible his two tattoos, the Dregs one on his forearm and the bottom part of the black R peeks out beneath his sleeve on his bicep. Running a hand through his damp hair, he picks up his clothes and shuffles back to the living room.]

Do you have a bag I can put my shirt in until I can wash it?

[Meanwhile Stella is finishing off another glass of wine while she waits. The sound of water is a quiet white noise in the background. Once the water stops she waits to hear him leave the bathroom and when he does looks towards the bathroom.]

Yeah, I can grab a bag for you.

[She has some duffle-like bags that she uses for shopping and she gets up to grab one and hand it to him. There is something a bit silly about his gloves and short sleeve shirt combo.]

Gang tattoos?

[He gives a nod and accepts the bag, putting his shirt into it and setting it aside. In return he starts to clear the coffee table of their dinner, leaving the wine and glasses since she seems to still be drinking.] Hm?

[Realizing she's looking at his arm, he glances down and gives a nod.] Yeah. It's the Dregs symbol. [He turns his forearm so she can see the cup with the crow leaning down to drink the last sip. The ubiquitous NMNF is also present, standing for their motto of 'no mourners, no funerals.']

Most in the gang have it. Lets other people know you're not just messing with one person.

[He didn't make Inej get it though, not after what happened at the Menagerie. He doesn't force any of the indentures who join him to get it, though some choose to of their own volition, or they add a touch to make it their own.]

Do you have any tattoos?

You've gone all in with Crows.

[and she gets it to some extent. They are very clever birds, ones she likes quite a lot.]

Just one.

[She doesn't even think before she's tugging off her shirt to show him her back. She has one rather large poppy tattoo on her spine. It's a fairly recent addition, only a few years old. It had taken her a long time to decide what she wanted.

She glances over her shoulder at him.]

Technically, I didn't start the Crow theme. The tattoo design was already in place when I joined the Dregs.

[Kaz simply embraced it, and from there called his little band within the Dregs his Crows.

For all his reservations around touch, Kaz isn't shy about nudity. He really couldn't afford to be, given he spent many years living with other boys his age in the gang. He's not put off by her removing her shirt, though he doesn't ogle, either. He keeps his gaze respectfully on the tattoo she's showing him.]

It's a nice design. Why a poppy?

And you got the cane to match, not the other way around?

[Once he's gotten a good look she tugs her shirt back on. Nudity doesn't need to be sexual. She used to spend a lot of time at public baths.]

Poppies grow where I'm from. And they're a symbol of death and remembrance. With my willingness to love comes a lot of loss, but I carry every one of them with me. They live on through me, hopefully forever.

The cane came after I joined the Dregs, yeah. Fell off the roof of a bank on a job. I had a makeshift walking stick for a while after that, until I could afford a cane.

[Kaz gives a little shrug at that as if to say it doesn’t matter. He’s stronger for what happened to him, and the cane’s an extension of him now. He wouldn’t have himself any other way.]

That sounds like quite a lot to carry.

The cane is really nice looking, very detailed.

[He seems to do just find with a cane, he's surely not any slower for it.]

It is. Loss stays with you. But I find comfort in honoring them and remembering them.

Those your only tattoos? Or are you hiding a whole big chest tattoo?

It is. Fabrikator-reinforced, too. It can do a lot more damage than most canes.

[It might be ridiculous to some, but it’s his weapon of choice. He’s capable of using guns and knives, but there’s nothing that feels as solid as his cane does.

He’s not like her, with the memories. He tries to suppress as many of his own as he can, minus when funneled into revenge. He gets her perspective on it though, and he knows it takes more strength to embrace pain like that than it does to avoid it.]

Just don’t lose yourself along the way, right?

[He finishes packing up the trash into the takeout bag, turning to deposit it into her garbage can. He gives a snort on the way at her comment.]

A whole chest tattoo would take far too long for me to sit and take. Even now I have to keep myself busy. [He holds up the bag to prove the point.]

So that you can hit with it when you need to, right?

[It's brilliant in it's simplicity. It's something he always has and uses like an extension of himself.]

I do my best to not lose myself. There have been a few losses that left me in a stupor for months at a time. But I have to keep going

I've noticed you don't sit still. I could help you sleep tonight if you want. My bed is much bigger than yours, we could make a little wall of pillows. It won't be as strong as with contact, but I should still be able to calm you.

Exactly that. It's a multi-purposeful mobility aid.

[Like much about himself that others might see as a weakness, he found a way to use it to his advantage. She's right that the crow's head at the top of it is one of the rare instances of his sentimentality showing through. It only felt right.]

No sense in stopping. Might as well be dead when that happens.

[He finds her impressively strong for it. Grief can indeed feel like a weight dragging a person under. Kaz doesn't presume to have a perfect balance in handling it yet, but he does know that instinct keeps him from letting himself sink, knowing there's no coming back once the bottom is reached.]

That's a kind offer. I'm not sleepy yet, maybe we can see how it goes later? Unless you're ready to sleep now.

[He's tired, but not yet in a state for slumber. He'll respect if she's wanting to sleep now though, he doesn't mind reading on the sofa instead.]

It suits you. To look like you won't be able to stand your own in a fight to catch them off guard.

[Stella is impressed by his tenacity.

She has been ravaged by grief a few times, but she keeps going.]

I'm not tired yet. I tend to only sleep for a few hours. I'm perfect to message when you have insomnia, I am usually awake myself.

I don't have insomnia, I just tend to crash at odd hours. When I have the time to spare varies. Or maybe it does count as insomnia if you and your mind keep going until eventually crashing. I don't know. It probably doesn't matter.

[The technicalities of the term probably didn't matter, he means. Kaz never really lies down with the intention of sleeping. He'll either eventually nod off at his desk or lie down for a few minutes to rest his body while thinking and his body just shuts down of its own accord.]

To your point though, which does matter, it goes both ways. I'm awake more often than I'm not and you'll likely catch me alert when others are sleeping. Kind of goes with the job, too.

[He sets the leftovers in the fridge for her and washes off the silverware in her sink, setting them in either the dishwasher if she has one or on a towel to then dry.]

So, what do muses do at this hour if not sleep and have half a bottle of wine left to drink?

Pretty sure that's still insomnia, Kaz.

[But she is chuckling as she says it.]

I'll remember that when I'm bored.

Well, I usually finish the wine. Then it depends on if I'm working with someone at the time. Artists keep insane hours, and night is often when they do the best work.

Mostly I read if I've not got anything else to do.

Is it still insomnia if I don't consider it a problem?

[He's mostly teasing her now because he likes to hear her laugh.]

And how do you usually work with someone, aside from touching them? They talk about color palates?

[He dries off his gloves with another towel and returns to the living area.]

I suppose between the two of us we could finish the bottle. That's one way to induce sleep.

It will be eventually.

[And she does laugh, but it's softer now.]

I offer advice at times, read manuscripts. But mostly just being with me helps to get the creativity flowing.

You've known me a while now, have you had some out of the box ideas lately?

[She has to wonder if she is rubbing off on him a little bit.]

I could finish it on my own if you're at your limit. I like just sitting here and talking to you. And knowing you are going a tiny bit stir crazy at not working.

Possibly. It's a little hard to tell in regards to my jobs, because I'm always told my ideas are insane and impossible until I make them work. I find it's often a matter of paying attention to the details in order to piece a complicated heist together. Outside of my work though, you've made me tempted to try and write myself. I haven't yet indulged in it, but the impetus has been there after our talks of poetry and literature. For me, that's outside the box.

And I'll have one more glass and then call it.

[He sits on the sofa again, bad leg extended outward, and leaning forward to pour the wine.]

I didn't know you were also a scientist conducting an experiment to see how long I can go without plotting before the madness sets in.

[He's teasing her.]

So, do you ever go back to Olympus?

Stay around me and you will have a book in no time.

[She isn't surprised that his plans are all in the details.]

I have several years of wine tolerance on you.

[Yes. Several.]

You seem like an interesting case study. Waiting for you to crawl out of your skin with boredom.

Rarely these days. My family is chaotic. I do talk to a few of my sisters regularly.

That feels like a luxury. I don't really afford myself luxuries.

[It would be different if writing was his career, but it isn't. Taking time away from work that needs doing feels indulgent, and for all his greed, Kaz isn't really one to indulge.

There's a little smile at her saying she has years on him.]

No doubt you do. Though my tolerance is fine for a human who's not above a glass of whiskey or two.

And I'm really not bored with you. I don't have enough manners to be lying about that.

Are there families that aren't chaotic?

Why not? Do you not have enough success now to allow yourself a little luxury?

[Stella has never been the type to deny herself little pleasures. But she has known many that do.]

I'm not bored with you either.

My families chaos really goes above and beyond. I share a father with about 90 siblings. It's honestly absurd, and someone needs to put a leash on the man.

Edited 2023-10-05 11:10 (UTC)

Success provides a measure of security, for as long as it lasts.

[Kaz has built himself up and been broken back down more than once, he doesn’t trust any success to be a guarantee but rather something to constantly strive to maintain or rebuild in turn.]

I don’t really equate it though with deserving luxury. It has better uses in my mind.

[He doesn’t need luxury. In Kaz’s mind, crawling back from the grave and swindling himself a second shot at life has meant he owed it to Jordie to do something with his time. Pleasantries don’t fit into his mental schema for it, even if his brother might have wanted a nice, quiet life for him.]

Good, I’m glad I’m not dull. Better to be hated than forgotten and all - not that I think you hate me, either.

I’m sure some have tried.

I'm always here for security as well, obviously.

[Since she's currently harboring a dead man. She does firmly believe he deserves to rest sometimes, even if he doesn't believe it himself.

When she turns to look at him, her expression is fond, nearly amused.]

No, it seems I don't hate you at all. And you can rest assured that no matter what happens to you, I'll carry your memory forever.

[that could be argued to be an incredibly romantic sentiment, depending on the person.]

Edited (adding stuff) 2023-10-05 12:05 (UTC)

That makes it sound like you're auditioning to be my bodyguard.

[He's teasing her about that, even though he is genuinely grateful for providing him a place to crash. He could have used a safehouse, but her place is not only even more unlikely to find him, it's also nice to not actually be alone.

Kaz isn't put off by death, he's been surrounded by it for a long time now. For someone to remember him afterwards rather than consider him a demon best left in the past is indeed sweet to him rather than upsetting.]

I'm flattered you'd find me worth remembering. Even if I don't live as long, I can't imagine forgetting you.

Then again, Hell might not want to deal with me, so you might be stuck with me longer than anticipated, anyway.

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