acaseofyou | open post

Intense, perhaps. Simply saying tense makes me think of a frazzled ball of nerves, and I'm really not that.

No, I wouldn't call you a frazzled ball of nerves. Though I do worry sometimes about how much you're clenching your jaw when I'm not around.

I promise I haven't broken any teeth.

Would it make you feel better if I brought some sweats to your room now?

Oh, good. You need those.

It might, yes. Definitely worth trying.

I do, I hate going to the dentist. But I'm not quite ready to knock out all my teeth for dentures.

Need anything else on my way?

Can't imagine there are many that enjoy going to the dentist. One of the benefits of being undead is not needing one.

Just yourself. I'm easy to please.

Yeah, yeah, brag away. I have a tedious appointment every six months to keep up with your pearly whites.

[He jokes and teases, though dental visits for him have an added difficulty. He's learned how to navigate the world with his difficulties, though.]

Mmm. You're stubborn, but I would say that you aren't obscenely hard to please.

Edited 2024-01-09 22:17 (UTC)

At least they can get you high for a little while. Think of it like a set appointment for laughing gas.

What about you? Should I set something up in the basement to make it more to your liking?

I don't think they use that much these days, or at least not for routine procedures. I've never been gassed at the dentist.

Nah. I'm also low maintenance, I think.

Well that's a shame. Used to be my favorite part.

Still like to maintain you, though.

They give out free toothbrushes and floss afterwards. So, there is that.

[He is an extremely big fan of free goods.]

Good to know. I'm sure you'd tell me if I ever got complicated to handle.

Be down in a minute.

[And he is, indeed, knocking on her door that much later with his cane.]

Getting free stuff is always a bonus, even if you don't get high.

Don't imagine you being complicated would ever be much of a problem for me.

[ Which is true enough. She's dealt with plenty of complexities on top of having a pretty complicated situation herself. But when he knocks she just calls in the direction of the door. ]

It's open!

[ Not just unlocked, but not fully latched. He could push or kick it open with a gentle nudge if his hands are full. ]

[At her allowance he nudges his way inside, a hip bump closing the door behind him. The clothing is light in his hands but it's neatly folded, as are all his other clothing if they're not hung up in an equally tidy order. Kaz's office and bedroom, out of all the Slat, he keeps extremely organized and clean for his own peace of mind.

After a moment of glancing around, he places it on her bed in a pile. After a moment's hesitation, an internal debate, he moves over to her and reaches a hand out to gently touch her cheek in greeting. He does his usual bracing of himself, an intake of breath and firm stance, but he's trying to improve his capacity for touch with little gestures. It's just a grazing of the back of his hand against her face if she allows it.]

Busy night?

[ She's standing by the record player, rifling through a stack so she can put something on. Not so absorbed in the task, though, that she doesn't watch Kaz move through the space out of the corner of her eye.

More than just allow it, when Kaz brushes his hand against her cheek she leans into it for a brief moment, eyes closed and humming a little at the back of her throat. Pleased, grateful. The steps they make on this front might be small, but each one is enjoyable beyond just the show of progress. ]

Not too bad. Might've been worse if there'd been a bar fight I'd have to have been in. Or if the mechanical bull worked.

[Her reaction eases him a little, seeing her alive and welcoming his touch.]

It's been awhile since I've been in a bar fight. Not that I want any to happen at the club.

[He does still get into scuffles and fights on the heists he orchestrates, but his days of street fighting are far less than they once had been. It's a very good thing on one hand, but he won't pretend he's beyond the simplicity of those sorts of battles when they happened.

Moving to her bed, he sits on the end of it just to take off his shoes.]

I will say as a marketing gimmick for those sorts of places, the mechanical bull was a good idea.

[ If she ever has a time where she doesn't welcome his touch, however brief or be-gloved, Kaz would have every right to question if she's been bodysnatched. ]

No, I figure those are bad for business when they're at your business. If you're missing it, we can always go to someone else's club.

[ Joking, for the most part. Birdie isn't much for participating in bar fights, but she'd be very good at starting them if so inclined. Meanwhile, as he kicks off his shoes she turns to put on a record. It's something older, leaning more blues than folk, with the volume down low. ]

Those things are definitely a draw for thrill seekers not willing to get near an actual bull but totally fine with embarrassing themselves in public. Like karaoke but more tossing.

[He notes the song she puts on to play, the quiet background blues song filling the air. Songs are not chosen without purpose, in Birdie's case. She often imbues music with more meaning than he ever thinks to do.

Shoes off, he begins to shrug out of his jacket and vest. He's not a very modest man, except for revealing his hands. Barring Birdie being upset by it, he's not bothered to change in her bedroom. Like his shoes being lined up, he neatly folds his clothing as he then sets it aside in a pile.]

I can't imagine not thinking about how I'm coming off in public. Though I know plenty who you're right, don't mind embarrassing themselves and would find falling off a bull a good time. Or doing karaoke no matter how they sounded.

What song is this?

[ There's not much modesty in Birdie. Probably obvious, given her times spent naked up on the roof in better weather. Still, she doesn't make watching him undress a thing done with intent. Not that she doesn't want to, but there's a certain temptation to it, a want, she'd rather keep further to the back of her mind than front and center. Doesn't stop her from glancing over at him, though, keeping the figure of him in the corner of her vision as she moves around and puts other records away. ]

Oh, there's all sorts of otherwise embarrassing things that can be a good time. Karaoke is a good one, though, but you know me. I'm very biased.

[ The record plays, and it's not as intentionally meaningful as it might seem. Sometimes it's less the song, the message, than it is hearing a voice she misses. ]

Odetta, Hard Oh Lord. [ The lyrics do pack a punch, though. Hard ain't it hard, ain't it hard, oh lord, to love and to be loved. ] She did folk a lot of the time, but this is her 'Odetta Sings the Blues' album.

I've had to listen to karaoke in the past, if that counts. I've definitely gotten some good blackmail out of it, but not from everyone, because a lot of people don't care if they look like an idiot doing it.

[Those like Jesper even seem to think that's part of the fun.

He changes swiftly out of his damp clothing and into sweatpants and a long-sleeved undershirt in a dark gray. Everything is folded up neatly and laid on a chair before he goes over to examine her record collection where she's putting some away. The lyrics are indeed pointed, ones that linger with him, too.]

She might've been onto something. May I?

[He gives a little nod at her collection.]

Mechanical bull probably isn't near as good for blackmail as it would be for insurance fraud.

[ She keeps herself mostly turned toward the records, fiddling idly with them between glances back in his direction. The blues keeps on, hard oh lord ain't it hard, as he finishes his quickchange. ]

Odetta always was. [ It's said with a smile, fond but small, as she sets down the record in her hands and makes room for him to come up and do whatever he likes with the records. ] And she sang Dylan better than he did by miles.

I don't think it's hard to sing better than Dylan. At least in regards to the quality of his voice. It was memorable, but not dulcet.

[He's just browsing her collection as he gets warm from the dry clothes, his damp hair a little wavy and haphazard as he bends over to read the back of one.]

Are you thinking about Lorelai?

[He means in regards to the hard lovin' song playing.]

Don't figure he was trying for dulcet, which makes the bar pretty damn low.

[ It's nice, seeing him like this. Warming up, more casual. Even the wave in his hair, these small dishevelments from his usual look. She's watching how the light plays in it when he asks about Lorelai, and it takes her a moment to get her head around an answer. ]

Fitting to be, I think. She liked Odetta, too.

[ She was also, at many different points, very hard to love and be loved by. ]

I'll admit I still like his songs. His voice works for them. Though I won't argue that other people certainly have some covers that they do better.

I think it might be nice to witness that, if one's ego doesn't get in the way. Taking what you've built and seeing other people add onto it or adapt it.

[He lets the pause linger until she's ready to talk. As impatient as Kaz is in most social circumstances, he can wait when he feels it's worthwhile. Birdie is always worth that while to him.]

Sometimes little things just trigger moments of the past. And other times, we seek them out. Do you want to talk about it, or should we talk about something else?

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