WHO: Two Geckos + an assortment of guest stars WHAT: Summary of content WHEN: Late Bloomingtide WHERE: The Gallows, misc. Kirkwall haunts. NOTES: Will update as needed.
As much as Richard already hates the idea of wearing a cloak, it was a decent option. He wasn't going to be able to pull out a boiler suit and mask here. They probably didn't even have sunglasses yet.
"This isn't the first time I've had to deal with avoiding a tan." And Seth had never seemed to pay too much mind to it, outside of any immediate moments where Richard was confronted with sunlight. Or stuck in a jeep in the middle of the desert with only the crackling line of a radio strung between them. His expression pinches, the memory extremely unwelcome. "I can handle it."
That gets an incredulous, pure are you serious face, because there's no way Seth actually wants a discussion about that. Culebra bullshit, easier to dismiss and forget about than actually look at head on, and Richard does not feel like playing around with this apparent change of heart just because they've somehow landed their asses in Middle Earth.
He stands up out of the water, stepping out of the bath towards his towels, uncaring if he splashes Seth along the way.
"I know thinking about the logistics of my existence might be a novel fucking experience for you, but in case you hadn't noticed, I've been dealing with this for a while."
Alone. Not the whole time, but still alone in the sense of without Seth.
He repeats, each word emphasised: "I can handle it."
The answering hey is perfunctory, affront more in the doorslam of Richie's reaction than the splashing of his retreat.
"In case you haven't noticed, this isn't your usual stomping ground."
But there's the truth: Seth doesn't want to talk about this. He hates this. He'd like to pretend it isn't happening.
And yet, he hates the totality of this dismissal even more. Richie yanking this one thing out of his hands, when there's so very little between them that Seth's able to contribute to.
"But sure. You handle it. Call me when you need an assist."
Towel retrieved, Richard starts drying off, scoffing as Seth continues.
"And how exactly are you going to assist, Seth?" He shoots over his shoulder. "Talk one of the staff into a dark corner for me to jump out on? Open up a vein for me?"
As soon as they got down into the logistics of it, the nasty gory details, Seth would stall or derail. Richard had seen his reactions too many times to think it would be any different now. He wraps the towel around his hips.
"You don't know what I need, and you don't want to know. So forget it."
This wasn't Richard closing a door. Seth had closed it a long time ago.
The former is feasible. Seth nearly wedges that rebuttal into the space between Richie's sharp-snapped rejoinders.
Seth can and has talked the two of them into business before. They could pretend this is business, couldn't they? Seth would certainly like to, Richie not letting that fly.
And Seth isn't going to beg.
"Have it your way."
Belligerent, all irritation even as Seth slides down into the water to claim the vacated space. He doesn't want to soak, but now it's about principle.
"Like I said, call me when it all goes fucking sideways, brother."
There isn't anything further to say to that which hasn't already been said. Seth will be waiting for that call a long time, because it isn't going to happen. End of.
So Richard just leaves him to stew in his (stolen) bath, heading off to check out where it is they're supposed to be sleeping in this place.
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no subject
As much as Richard already hates the idea of wearing a cloak, it was a decent option. He wasn't going to be able to pull out a boiler suit and mask here. They probably didn't even have sunglasses yet.
"This isn't the first time I've had to deal with avoiding a tan." And Seth had never seemed to pay too much mind to it, outside of any immediate moments where Richard was confronted with sunlight. Or stuck in a jeep in the middle of the desert with only the crackling line of a radio strung between them. His expression pinches, the memory extremely unwelcome. "I can handle it."
no subject
I can handle it.
Well, maybe. But Seth bristles anyway, lets it pass as his eyes return to the gleaming splinter of light dug into his palm.
"You figure out how you're getting dinner too?"
no subject
He stands up out of the water, stepping out of the bath towards his towels, uncaring if he splashes Seth along the way.
"I know thinking about the logistics of my existence might be a novel fucking experience for you, but in case you hadn't noticed, I've been dealing with this for a while."
Alone. Not the whole time, but still alone in the sense of without Seth.
He repeats, each word emphasised: "I can handle it."
no subject
"In case you haven't noticed, this isn't your usual stomping ground."
But there's the truth: Seth doesn't want to talk about this. He hates this. He'd like to pretend it isn't happening.
And yet, he hates the totality of this dismissal even more. Richie yanking this one thing out of his hands, when there's so very little between them that Seth's able to contribute to.
"But sure. You handle it. Call me when you need an assist."
When. Very pointed.
no subject
"And how exactly are you going to assist, Seth?" He shoots over his shoulder. "Talk one of the staff into a dark corner for me to jump out on? Open up a vein for me?"
As soon as they got down into the logistics of it, the nasty gory details, Seth would stall or derail. Richard had seen his reactions too many times to think it would be any different now. He wraps the towel around his hips.
"You don't know what I need, and you don't want to know. So forget it."
This wasn't Richard closing a door. Seth had closed it a long time ago.
no subject
Seth can and has talked the two of them into business before. They could pretend this is business, couldn't they? Seth would certainly like to, Richie not letting that fly.
And Seth isn't going to beg.
"Have it your way."
Belligerent, all irritation even as Seth slides down into the water to claim the vacated space. He doesn't want to soak, but now it's about principle.
"Like I said, call me when it all goes fucking sideways, brother."
no subject
So Richard just leaves him to stew in his (stolen) bath, heading off to check out where it is they're supposed to be sleeping in this place.