Smoke Break (open!)

[Anonymous]

There was no reason to head up to the roof to have a smoke.  Jory couldn't remember the last time he was reprimanded for smoking in the halls of the Citadel or another public area where the smoke could annoy a higher ranking Pilot.  Usually he lit up in his office, in his apartment or around people that couldn't do much more than cower by the nearest window and shoot him dirty looks if the smoke was bothering them.  If he didn't walk up to the roof he would probably be sprawled out on his desk picking out patterns in the ceiling.  It was barely the middle of the day, there was no way he'd lie down and rest in the middle of the day.  It was a waste of time.  Worse, it would encourage his mind to get dull after doing any telekinesis.  

To defeat one urge, he gave into another.  Now he was climbing up the emergency stairs to the roof, because time standing around in the elevator was time he'd be idle and lapse into the fog that draped over his mind whenever he moved anything bigger than a carton of cigarettes.  Marren must have been sleeping; he would have thought that climbing the stairs, that were supposed to be used in the odd event that a fire broke out in the Citadel, to go have a smoke and work on blueprints, for something that would cause more than its fair share of fires, to be the peak of hilarity.  

Even climbing the stairs wasn't doing the trick.  Jory was starting to zone out, the air getting hazy like it did when the insomnia pills started working or his body's need for sleep overrode his mind's urging to stay awake and do something.  There were only two more flights of stairs until the roof.  Once he was there, with a cigarette in his mouth he could ride out the rest of this brain fog.

After climbing the first of the two remaining flights, Jory stopped to dig a pack of cigarettes and his lighter out of a pocket, moving his laptop under an arm.  As he walked onto the roof, Jory flipped the lighter open.  If it'd been an old fashioned lighter, the wind would have put out the flame instantly.  This was a new model, it looked like an old flame model but had a coil of metal inside that would heat up when a button was pressed.  It took a little longer to light a cigarette with the coil than with a flame, but it had its perks.  Jory stepped back across the threshold to light his cigarette, took a drag and walked back out.  The wind picked up his hair, the tail of his coat and the smoke from his cigarette and whirled them around.

Like he always did when he walked under the open dome, Jory looked upward for any suspicious clouds.  There was no rain planned for today, but if the right Dragon wanted to see rain, it would come.  Once he was sure the sky was clear, Jory sat down and folded his ankles under his knees so he could shift the laptop from under his arm to his lap.  

It was a nice day, a bit windy, but at least it wasn't at his back.  The view from the roof didn't impress Jory anymore.  The roof was the first place he escaped to whenever he pushed himself too far psychically during work.  Otherwise he would have found someone to distract him.  As much as he preferred the second, there was still work to be done.  Jory opened the laptop and took another drag on his cigarette, his eyes lingering on the door to the roof while the machine booted up.

[Anonymous]

Liv preferred to skip communal eating when he could.  Or at least cafeterias.  He hated cafeterias, all noise and steamed-meat-smell and little networks of petty hatred.  After years and years of enforced Candidining, he found it a relief to be able to get away when he could.  Besides, off on his own, he'd be able to indulge all of his vilely messy eating habits.  Liv could never manage to outpace his hunger entirely, which was possibly symbolic and possibly just metabolic.  

He took a bag lunch up to the roof, lounging in the elevator, watching floor by floor whizz by.  He shut out any potential probes from Falstaff.  After all he had given up in recent weeks, the Dragon would respect the request for a lonely lunchtime.  Liv leaned against the back wall of the elevator and let vertigo collect in the pit of his stomach as it shot up... and up... he buttoned his coat and took his crumpled fedora from one pocket, and he'd reached the top.  The elevator bobbed to a stop, and Liv let himself enjoy that one moment of zero velocity before gravity continued in its usual fashion.

The door slid open.  Swinging his bag lunch in one hand, Liv stepped out, shoulders set tensely, as if he expected something to come and pick him off the roof... to be fair, had happened once, with Falstaff.  Which was about as playful as that had ever gotten.  Hm.  Maybe he'd do something of the sort.  With a humorous twist, obviously.  Anyway.  Next item on the agenda, after he did another Ceiling Tea, possibly for Blaine, and messed with Gabe's shampoo--

--almost immediately, he caught a pair of eyes looking his way, and stopped, scoping out the area.  Jory.  Ah, lovely.  He'd heard stories of how superior he had been to Liv as a Candidate.  Then again, everyone, to hear Has talk, had been.  But Jory had been before his time, to Liv there remained only the rather cold impression the eight-year Cardinal gave.  Still, two on a roof... Liv wouldn't pass it up.  He liked to ruffle the unruffleable.  

"Hallo," he said, pacing over to the other Pilot and peering over his shoulder at the uninteresting contents of his laptop.  He thumped down beside him, stringing one arm around his shoulders.  Liv liked to make the first move toward uncomfortable closeness.  "If you need another light..." He snapped his fingers, utterly failing to summon anything.  Oh well.  "So how goes it, Jollyluv?" twisting in an odd accent.  But he wasn't really feeling it today.  Half-hearted.  Oh well, probably low blood sugar, he'd get to his trio of ham sandwiches soon enough.

[Anonymous]

Once the computer booted up Jory loaded the next blueprint he was supposed to check.  The modified rocket launcher.  The one that was supposed to be easier to carry and have less of a kick than a standard rocket launcher.  Unless he missed something in one of the planning meetings, the weapon would also kill its wielder with the rocket got caught in the barrel and exploded.  Jory skimmed the comments left by the other members of the team.  If the chief engineer really needed more than one 'wider barrel' comment to realize the flaw he needed to be the one to test the weapon once the prototype was built.

The elevator opened mid-skim (there was another candidate for testing the Self-Destructing Rocket Launcher, 'lovely form' honestly...) and Jory glanced up.  Liv, the Eternal Candidate with a bag in hand.  It was around that time, he was probably here to eat.  Jory usually ate lunch later in the afternoon, dinner was something to keep himself occupied when he couldn't sleep at night.

He half expected someone else to come bouncing out of elevator after Liv.  After a second or two to cushion any unfortunate gravity it was clear that he was on his own.  Jory took a drag on his cigarette and went back to the blueprint, blowing a steady stream of smoke from the other side of his mouth.

Then Liv struck, crashing down and draping himself around Jory's shoulders.  Technically, interacting with the other Pilots (even Liv) was a part of his job, so the comment critiques could wait.  Jory looked up at Liv, a corner of his mouth turning down, unamused at the lack of fire after the light comment.  It went back to its normal spot once he took another drag.

Jory, never one to waste the opportunity to lean on something, eased sideways into Liv and tilted his head up to blow a puff of smoke in his face.  "Everything is sunshine and rainbows.  What have you got for me?"  His eyes flicked down to the bag and his eyebrows rose.

[Anonymous]

Liv sucked in an accidental mouthful of smoke, and felt it alchemize to hot annoyance in his lungs.  Fucker.  He couldn't hold back the short, sharp bark of a cough, and found himself embarrassed that he hadn't recovered more gracefully, and that he'd tried to damp his cough instead of hacking straight into Jory's face.  That would've been better.  Maybe next time.

Instead, he defaulted to his usual limp-wristedness, and flapped a hand at the smoke until the wind had whipped it away.  Jory, meantime, had let his full weight sag onto Liv's shoulder.  He contemplated a quick sideways scuttle, in the hopes that it'd leave the leaner flailing for balance, but that stuff just didn't work on Pilots.  Oh well.  The rest of his repertoire was limited, especiously because Aeglaeca had been a Has-been, and probably wouldn't be bothered by Liv's brand of belligerence.

Hm.  Awkward.

At last--after too long a pause for wit--Liv sniffed, pushed his bag lunch to one side, and leaned in, tipping the balance toward equilibrium.  He didn't like to be the leanee.  And he could not believe Jor would really play the what've-you-brought-me card.  Even real bullies didn't use that one any longer, and the lack of creativity offended him.  More troublingly still, he'd been able to pick up on no real hint as to how the pale-eyed Pilot had meant it.  Well, give as good as you got, then.

"If you take my sandwiches," Liv whispered in tones usually reserved for unbelievable movie villains.   He spoke into Jory's ear.  "I will be forced to kill you."

[Anonymous]

Bullseye.  Jory smirked when Liv coughed, the corner of his mouth that wasn't busy holding his cigarette twisting up just slightly.  He took cigarette out just long enough to ash it on the roof next to him, a gust of wind nearly taking the flakes off before he could shake them loose.

Jory saw no reason to waste time to readjust when Liv leaned back against him.  He'd either stay propped up against Liv's shoulder or slide into the other Pilot's lap.  Which might make him reevaluate how hungry he was.  For now he was balanced on Liv's shoulder and didn't feel like shifting his weight.  It'd be better if gravity put him there than any conscious decision, even if it would be amusing to skim Liv's thoughts afterward.  To see if he knew it was intentional and to see his actual reaction, instead of whatever he chose to express.

Instead Jory looked over at the bag lunch's new spot and grinned as best he could without chomping down on the cigarette's filter.  "Tsk tsk," he tutted.  "We're not on rations, there's no need to be so defensive about food.  Besides, we're practically family."  While he was talking, the hand that previously hovered over the laptop's touchpad began inching over to the bag.  Because it wasn't within reach, Jory stretched his arm out.  Letting his shoulder brush against Liv in the process.  

Jory kept his mind to himself, but glanced up at Liv, still grinning.  It was Moore's anniversary, so there was no reason to go through with the implied threat against Liv's lunch.  For now, it was entertaining enough to excuse taking a break from work.

[Anonymous]

"Practically family," Liv scoffed.  He could read only reptile patience in those pupilless eyes.  Psychic exploration turned up not much more.  Jory, hand on its way out toward his lunch, brushed his shoulder, rather too close.  Liv enjoyed the cologne, though.  Was that a note of cedar?  

"Practically family.  If so, you're the creepy cousin off in a corner," he went on, reaching out to snag the paper bag himself.  He shifted away from Jory, a silent admission that he'd won their game of awkwardly close chicken, and took out his sandwiches.

Today, he thought, squinting into the whipping wind, today was an odd day.  An odd day and an odd lunch companion.  Aeglaeca made his stomach seize with nervous trepidation, and he wasn't sure why.  Usually Liv let himself sink into the automated movements of automated banter, but... damn it all, he didn't like reminders.  Hasdrubal hadn't told him much about Aeglaeca, though he had used him as a figure in the luridly animated morality tales he'd chaffed about.  Liv, of course, knew better than to believe any of the variegated parables Has threw around: they always changed.  Of the stories he'd told about Liv, most--since he'd been present at the time--had been highly derogatory and blithely distorted.

Aeglaeca's--possibly because he'd gone on to better things and Pilothood, possibly because he'd just been better--hadn't, though Has had let forth a few cloaked barbs about ambitionlessness eventually.  Or something.  It was always hard to tell.  Liv pieced it together.  Aeglaeca: 'my old Candee-date.'  One of those who 'saw things the right way 'round.'In context, Liv had assumed, it meant that sense of natural superiority Hasdrubal so cultivated, or maybe that reptilian calm. He had also told a gleeful and possibly not apocryphal story about Jory's fucking-with of an old roommate, when Liv had found his gave him grief.  In general, what Liv had gathered: Jory is better than you are, fucks with people more effectively, and is a lazy bastard.  How much of any of that was true he had no idea.  Nor had he gone out of his way to find out.  Nothing like seeing for oneself.

"--the one no one likes.  Hm.  If you let me bum one, I'll give you half a ham sandwich."  He unwrapped one of them, split it, and waggled a half at the other Pilot.

[Anonymous]

If his hand wasn't already extended, Jory might have flopped over when Liv shifted away from him.  He wobbled a little while he pulled his hand back and slapped it against the roof to keep his balance.  Even with the wind it seemed too loud, too obvious.  It also ruined the only unforced chance he'd have to fall into Liv's lap which, considering he could have missed by just enough to send his head slamming into the roof, made missing out on his reaction, that particular displeasure, a negligible loss.  Jory leaned into his arm, adjusting his laptop with his other hand so it didn't do any sliding of its own.

"Nonesense," the first part of the word was a slow drawl and it ended with a crisp hiss.  "If no one liked me, I'd have most of the city committed to memory by now.  I'd go through boots like tissues."

Those poor unfortunate soles!

Marren...

Jory caught himself mid sigh, but didn't stop his eyes from rolling.  Morning sweet prince.

The Dragon's panic couldn't have been been better used by a passenger ship on a collision course with something reasonably unpleasant.  How could you let that one slipper by?

I'm not en pointe today, I'll need a pas.

The Dragon giggled.  That took some getting used to, back when Marren first chose him.  That should have been enough to keep him occupied for the next minute or two.

Implying that patrols were formed based on who wasn't liked the most was nearly as ridiculous as Marren's interjection.  If that was the case, there would be a few Pilots that would only have their memories of seeing the Citadel from the ATC to remind themselves that, yes, that's where the Pilots did their Pilot business.  For a jab, it was passable though.

Today just might be one of those days where he managed to eat enough to work up a nice sense of lethargy that would let him pull another hour or two of sleep.  Jory slid a hand into his pocket, pulled out the cigarettes and freed one from the pack which he dropped into his lap afterward.  He spun the cigarette around and offered it to Liv filter first.  "You got this one, or do you need my light too?"

Then, in a stab at conversation he added.  "How's work?  Do you have any time for it in between going on guided tours of Haviah's underbelly?"

[Anonymous]

Liv reacted reflexively to the way Jory said nonsense, the particular inflection.  Interesting.  He started to respond to the subtle (or not so subtle) jab at his habitual assignments, but sighed and settled back in tandem with the other Pilot at the Draconic interruption.  Whatever language game he might be playing, Liv would just have to see how it shuffled itself out.  

Needed a light, indeed.  

"No, thanks." He kept his expression blank and pleasant for the moment.  Paranoid, Liv, said the nagging voice that reminded him of everything he was paranoid about.

If these were gibes they were poor ones, anyway.  Liv hunched toward the offered cigarette and, flexing his neck out birdlike, seized it between his teeth.  Then he withdrew, not before meeting that gray gaze with a look just a tad on the belligerent side.  Bold, or something.  See, he said via stare, I am feisty.  See the red hair?  Oh, yeah.  Feisty as all kinds of little girls and things.

Snorting at himself, Liv turned to one side and chafed his palms, then cupped them and focused to bring up a flame.  Ouch.  Ouch.  It lit a little too close to skin, but he twiddled the cigarette down anyway to catch light and came up sucking smoke and shaking one stinging hand, then turned back to catch the tail end of what Jory had been saying.  And to rescue the other half of his sandwich, which had come close to sliding off his leg.  He couldn't quite resist reaching out with his mind, either, though he didn't expect he'd be able... what, now?  

What a weird Dragon.

"Work," Liv said, twitching the cigarette up and down with his bottom lip.  Sparks gathered, fragmented, and blew away on the wind.  At length he removed it, sucked in plain air, and took a bite of sandwich.  He had to work just a little too hard to keep his heartrate down.  Just paranoia.  How comforting.  Liv chewed.  "Mph.. mm.."  Gesture with sandwich and cigarette, and then the sandwich went to rest in his lap for awhile.  "... work amuses me, I guess.  I think Seruna's taken to broadcasting gibberish just so I'll have something to do.  And I like Haviah's underbelly.  It has whores and good icecream."  He cast a glance at Jory, trying to take his measure.  He failed.  Casual conversation or... right.  

"You?"  Might as well.  "Surprised to see you doing so much work.  Has used to call you a lazy motherfucker."  'Motherfucker' he pronounced with pretended refinement, lingering on the crisp, clothy curves of th and r.

[Anonymous]

One day, the part of Marren's brain that remembered some trace of manners and how to be ashamed of making a fool of himself would come out of a coma.  Jory planned to share some of his finer moments.  Then he could see if the giggly Dragon could pull off any other unbecoming emotions.

Jory met Liv's bland pleasantness with a thin smile that didn't reach his eyes, giving the cigarette a little wriggle before it was lipped (more chomped) from his fingers.  Once that mask was dropped for the challenging stare Jory narrowed his eyes a little, raising an eyebrow, the matching end of his lips and taking a quick drag which was puffed slowly through his nose.  It was a strange look, for a less strange look.  The smoke curled, acrid and stinging, as it flowed from his nose.  A few whorls hung around until he puffed them out.  It sounded like a sneeze, one of the weak ones that raced up the lungs and through the nose before the person was even aware they were going to sneeze.

Wait for it.  

Sneeze you!

...

You cinder do that if you don't want to sneeze.  Or maybe you should just bellows your nose.

Remind me to ask you what sort of chemical cocktail you had for a nightcap.

Adding to To Do list.

It would have been interesting if Liv hadn't managed to get his flame on and was watching and waiting for him to finish being Marren's captive audience.  Jory could never resist peeking into another Pilot's head whenever their Dragon decided to add itself to the conversation.  If it was enough to make the Pilot look like they were doing a hasty inventory of anything left in their apartment that would end up burning it down, it was worth a look.  Somewhere in the Citadel, there had to be a Pilot that was keeping a blog of all the unfortunate turns of phrase Marren came up with.  Perhaps for psychological war against Edanith and Seruna.

Yessssss!  We'll punmel them into submission!

What are you waiting for?  Go tell Trust your plan.

The little tête-à-tête with Marren nearly cost him the beginning of an extended lunch.  Jory took one last drag on his cigarette, put it out on the ground next to him and reached over to take the other half of the sandwich.  He didn't start eating yet, Liv was talking.  "Keep scratching it and you'll end up with fleas."  To keep from smirking again Jory tore off a corner of the sandwich with his thumb and forefinger and nibbled it.

On occasion Jory wondered he could away with shirking his duties a little, like most figured he did after hearing Hasdrubal rant about him.  He'd probably die of boredom before anyone caught on.  "No more than I usually do.  The Aedolian war machine isn't much of a threat without plenty of things that go bang in the night."  He shrugged, grinning.  "Maybe if I bitched about it more it would seem like I was doing something."

[Anonymous]

Liv listened to the echoes of Marren's overexuberant telepathy between pensive drags on Jory's cigarette.  Iiinteresting.  He couldn't quite shake the feeling that Jory was making little oblique stabs.  'End up with fleas.'  Oh well.  It could've meant so very much and probably meant nothing at all.  Old trick, that one, the assumption that listeners expanded upon what you said, however cryptic... Gods damn, he couldn't shut out the claustrophobic paranoia.  Usually it wasn't quite this bad.  

"What can I say," he said, pinching out the graying ash at the end of the cigarette and flicking the butt away.  He'd gotten good at damping flame after so long.  Calloused fingertips and everything.  "Fleas make me... tick?"  He raised one eyebrow at Jory.  "Your Dragon is special."

Actually, he liked the idea.  Better than Falstaff, anyway, who--at least had the grace to stay out of his head sometimes.  Talk about cryptic.  He eyed Jory.  Nearly family, right, he'd hardly met the guy... right...

"Couldn't help listening in."  He picked up his sandwich again, though smoking had taken the edge off his appetite, and patted it between his palms, getting it flat in that slightly crushed way he liked.  "It's not like you were trying to keep me out--of that, anyway.  We in the family know that, right?"  Sarcasm there, or something.  "A light hand and a tipped one."

[Anonymous]

Jory tore another piece of sandwich off, nibbling it and pondering the different ways the effluvia of the Lower City could make a person tick.  Literally and, he remembered from one unfortunate hook up at Syn, figuratively.  There were also the more unsavory sort of things hidden in the shadow of the city.  That was for the Seekers to think about in depth.  He'd be damned if he did their thinking for them, he was just enjoying how worked up the conversation got Liv.

Assuming Liv was listening into Marren's wisecracks, Jory eased just far enough into Liv's mind to feel the edges of any emotions floating around.  Those whores and ice cream places down in the Lower City had to be something.  A cover up, something he didn't want ruined by a deluge of other Pilots seeking them out, whatever it was, prodding at it further might send Liv scurrying away for less judgmental company.  

"Ah Marren," Jory sighed, smiled thinly and tore another bit off the sandwich.  "I had a girl once who thought Marren and I were ju-ust per-r-r-rfect.  Something about opposites creating just enough friction to keep a relationship interesting."

Liv excusing himself for inviting himself along to the Marren show and the innuendo that followed were almost hazardous for the torn bit of sandwich he was nibbling.  Mid smirk, it got caught in his throat, sparking a little animal panic that was soon blanketed behind a few shields.  He cleared his throat, raising a hand to thump his chest if that didn't do the trick.  It wasn't needed, the second hack knocked it loose.  There was no use acting condescending after nearly choking in front of someone.  Time to wrap that topic up and try a different angle.  "Nothing better."

Jory looked back at his laptop and rolled his eyes.  "Want to trade jobs for a week or so.  Some of my crew could use another person telling them they're idiots."

[Anonymous]

That.

Damn.

Bowl.

It wasn’t even her bowl. Liv, that bastardly bowl bandit had left one in her sink again. Finding it after duty was over so the left over cereal had time to dry against the sides. Kit had to pick it out from under her nails because the bristly pad-thing couldn’t get all the... Gross... Off of it. She was going to take this bowl and...

Do something with it!

Something so horrible and so evil it would make him cry!

That’s what she’d do.

Today, Kit had skipped her nap, changed out of her uniform to dress in her favourite pair of jeans and boots with a plain blue t-shirt pulled over, hair flopped to the side and the braids just as they always were. In braids. Which were bouncing up and down as she booked it up the stairs. Elevator. Pah.

The bowl was still in her grip, Christopher was not a happy camper.

Actually, she was quite pleased, but that was pushed down under the ‘damn bowls’ feeling. Pushing the door open to the roof, she took a quick look around and gave a delighted breath, found him. Finally. She’d asked her dragon where Liv was but he was horrible with the where’s, that and he just didn’t care.

But she found him. Now for that horrible thing she planned. Frowning, still holding the bowl, Kit stalked over to the pair, she recognised the odd looking one and smiled and gave a wave of her hand before she stood behind Liv and gently place the bowl upside down on his head. “Ah, there we go. Lookit that, Liv! I washed your bowl.”

Kit pushed her hand down into her pocket and pulled out the little note he’d left on her fridge besides the box of open cereal, which she had also cleaned up and put away. It was yellow and Kit bent over Liv and stuck it to his nose before grinning and moving to sit beside him, her legs crossed and leaning so her elbow was on her knee. “Hi, Aeglaeca.” Kit wiggled her fingers at Jory again, eyeing him for a moment before brightening with a smile. “Hope I’m not intruding on a serious conversation, boyos! Of course, I can go stand over there and stick my fingers in my ears and pretend not to listen if you were having one.”

Turning towards Liv, she smiled wider before pulling her fingers through her hair and pushing it off to the side out of her eyes. Kit wasn't all that sure what to think about Jory, she didn't know him all that well, and he did look scary. Which was why she had sat beside Liv, at least she could pin him.

[Anonymous]

Something plastic.  On his head.  What?  He'd been looking out over the roof, through the ear-blasting wind--that must be why he hadn't heard--he glanced up, shoving the bowl back off his hair, and relaxed, lips quirking up at the corners.  Oh, right.  He'd thought it a good idea at the time.  Christopher was much too concerned with keeping everything neat and in place, so he'd decided to leave a dirty cereal bowl in her sink until she learned to stop cleaning them in a frenzy as soon as she found them.  Clearly, not working.  Yet!  Chin up, Livvy.  He'd get her.  In the meantime, he found he liked the routine of it, the careful little plots he had to spin to get into her room and out before she noticed the bowl bandit.  It had become a morning ritual.  

He had a mask.

Liv peeled the note off his nose and read it over.  Surprise!  <3 The Bowl Bandit.  Yeah, that had been clever: brevity, the soul of wit.  (Next time he'd shorten the signature to BB).  Liv claimed no nominal responsibility for his pranks.  It left him an 'out'.  The excuse 'wasn't really me,' of course, could only get you so far--but he had proliferated his identities, and it served him well, or served him, anyway, and what of it?  Wasn't really me: it worked.  He wondered how much of a me Jory had, and how he'd held onto it, or whether he had actually come to inhabit the careful, unreadable blank he seemed.  Seamed.  Stitched together... Too many Dragon puns; no wonder Haz had always called Jory patient, he'd have to be.

He lifted the bowl from his head and turned it over in his hands. The anxiety he'd felt, not from bowl-head but from the pressure of Jory's presence, lessened.  Safe.  She'd even dried the inside: typical.  He dropped the note into the concave center of the bowl, then added the wrapper left from the half-sandwich he'd just finished.  That settled to one side, he fluffed his hair, smoothing the strands lifted by static cling.    

"Not at all, we were just--"  Liv gave his hair a last, flourishing flip and smiled at Kit.  "--I think we were just exchanging cryptic pleasantries and... bad puns, right, Aegly?"  He flicked a glance back toward Jory.  "Here, have a sandwich, it isn't pathetic."  Liv produced the second two ham sandwiches and dropped one into Kit's lap.

[Anonymous]

He'd give the girl away if he stared at her as she crept up behind Liv.  So he tilted his head down at his laptop and trained his eyes up at Liv, like he was waiting for an answer.  Zyanensé plopped a... was that a bowl?  It was a bowl.  It was a bowl and now it was upside down on Liv's head.  Then she was sticking a little note on his nose.  Jory leaned in a little, to make out what it said.

Marren's snort of laughter sounded like an aneurysm, a loud pop followed by a long wheeze that seemed to echo.  Bowl bandit boldly baffles broad!

The best way to handle Marren when he started an alliteration spree was to ignore him.  This time he wouldn't need to dig for something to think about to aid in that.  Zyanensé put what appeared to be a clean bowl on Liv's head and a note that just may have been from Liv on Liv's nose.  The bowl was a puzzle in itself, the note added another element of strangeness.

He wasn't going to figure anything out by thinking about it until his eyes rolled into the back of his head.  Even though he suspected that Liv and Zyanensé could continue talking if he did, he could save some time by asking them instead.  Jory shut his laptop and set it next to him, tearing another piece off the sandwich and nodding when the girl waved.  "Zyanensé, nice of you to join us."

For a moment, Jory wondered if Marren was going to take offense to his beloved wordplay being called bad.  He was either tuning out of the conversation or he slipped back into a hazy opiate sleep.  Jory smirked, nodded and added.  "I was in the middle of inviting Liv to work down in R&D for a while, it's been some time since we needed to test the sprinklers."  

As Liv offered the rest of his food to the girl, Jory leaned over and picked up the bowl, holding it between his fore, middle and ring fingers and tilting it a little to read the note again.  "If you're going to spend the night with someone, isn't it a little more practical to use their own dishes instead of bringing your own and leaving them with ammunition?"

[Anonymous]

It was sort of odd for someone examine a bowl so carefully, it was his damn bowl. Kit was tempted to mention that all she did was clean it free of all the sticky clingy gross things. That she didn’t do anything weird with it. “Mm, bad puns, my favourite.” Kit was staring off in the other direction when she felt something flop onto her lap.

Oh, cool! A sandwich.

Kit gave Liv a look when he mentioned that it wasn’t pathetic and she made a little face before plucking out half of a sandwich and sinking her teeth into it. Looking thoughtfully at Jory before pushing her hair out of her face and behind a ear.  Sprinklers? Kit lift an eyebrow and looked towards Liv, and she was staring at him when Jory continued on with his comment about the bowl.

Blinking slowly, Kit turned back to Jory and chewed on the piece of sandwich in her mouth. Hm. Licking her lips, Kit pointed the half a ham sandwich towards the odd looking Pilot, her mouth drawing into a smile. “Pfft, spending the night. Liv just knows this bowl bandit fellow who keeps leaving notes on my fridge and dishes in my sink.” An elbow drew out from her body and she nudged Liv with it before she smirked towards Jory.

“C’mon, Aeglaeca, I’m Christopher the elusive virgin Pilot, almost as epic as Gabriel,” She took another bite of her not pathetic sandwich and swallowed before continuing, “Though, no one could beat that guy at being virginal.”  Kit frowned for a moment before looking at Jory, confused was drawn across her face, curious as to what exactly he was talking about.   “Anyway, what do you mean by ‘test the sprinklers’?” The only work Kit ever did was sitting behind a desk and filling out papers, a field worker, Kit was not.

Being a flash light was never all that useful, which happened to be the only thing she was good at. That and paper work. So Miss. Christopher was behind a desk. Kit cleared her throat and her voice got a little quieter, well, this was awkward. “ Uh... “ She leaned in to look between then, “I can leave if you have business to do, I just came here to give Liv his bowl.. Er.. Give Liv the bowl the Bowl Bandit left me.” Kits eyebrows rose up on her face and she shifted before smiling, light green eyes moving between the two other Pilots.

[Anonymous]

Liv munched his way smugly through the last of his sandwiches, elbows on updrawn knees.  He watched Kit, hoping for a little embarrassment at Jory's comment, but no luck.  She took it pretty well.  Elusive virgin Pilot.  My, my, how intriguing.  Liv hadn't actually known it for an official title.  There should be all sorts of reasons behind that one, which he must needs investigate later.

"The sprinklers, Christopher," he said, once he'd downed the last of his sandwich and licked his fingers clean.  He pulled one forefinger from his mouth with a faint pop and flourished his hand.  Control, Livvy.  He did not have it; but, despite the wind, managed to summon a wispy, flickering flame, cupping his free hand to shield it. It flared, sent off sparks, then unraveled in a strong crosscurrent and streaked away to smoke.  "Because of the hotness, because of the hotness."

He elbowed her back, one eye still on Jory.  Pretty nice of Kit to understand the whole Bowl Bandit business.  Not everyone went with the dubious dual identity thing, but Liv liked the ones who did.  The Bowl Bandit really wasn't Liv.  Or at least he'd maintain that pleasant fiction, because of life's many fictions, most are fuckin' awful.

"And we're not doing business, are we, Anglaeca?"  Liv raised an eyebrow at the gray-eyed Pilot.  "Just shooting the breeze, or flaming it or something.  Contrary to reputation, Jory works too hard.  I am distracting him."  Liv tossed the balled-up wrapper from his final sandwich at Jory.

[Anonymous]

Right... Liv knew a mysterious someone that crept into Zyanensé's room to leave behind bowls and notes, which she would wash and give back to Liv.  It was a strange game, like something a parent and child might play with each other.  There was no need to call them out on it though, it'd have the same effect as if he pointed at the sky and began lecturing about what colour it was.  Jory set the bowl back down and picked up the torn off bit of sandwich he neglected to pick up the bowl, quickly chewing and swallowing it while tearing off another bite.

Both of his eyebrows rose when Zyanensé bragged, or maybe it was just a reminder, about not only being a virgin, but an elusive virgin.  Jory didn't see what the point was in waiting to have sex, especially those that were planning on offering it as some sort of twisted gift to someone they loved.  They were coming late into a game most other people were playing since they were barely legal.  For a little while, he was tempted to tell her to try looking in a primary school to find opponents to challenge Gabriel's purity.  It was in bad taste.  None of those kids would have the same opportunities in front of them as a Pilot.

Liv beat him to explaining what use he'd be for R&D's sprinklers so he kept eating torn bites of his sandwich, finally finishing it as Liv cupped his hand over the other to protect a little tongue of flame.  He grinned and nearly snorted laughing at the reason he gave.  Technically it was the truth, the sprinklers would activate because of him, but unless he set himself on fire walking into the shop he wouldn't be immediately veiled in water.  "Yes, I'm sure the tech department will appreciate a few days to air out Liv's computer."

That was the second time the girl mentioned leaving them alone.  They barely started talking, so there wasn't much for her to disrupt.  Jory shook a finger at Zyanensé.  "There's no need to go, we would have shooed you away somehow if you were intruding on something."  

Jory shook his head soon after to confirm that they weren't doing business.  Then a ball of waxed paper came flying at him.  It was too soon to try any telekinesis, but Jory did it anyway, crossing his eyes slightly and trying to force the projectile to a stand still.  It was too soon, so it kept flying at him uninterrupted.  Jory raised a hand and batted it aside, then put the hand to better use getting out a cigarette.  "With any luck, I'll get so far behind that I'll pass out from exhaustion.  I may be able to let Yanki go if I can get him to make it a habit."

[Anonymous]

Hmm, better to not mention ‘those things,’ around other Pilots, even in a joking manner. The way Jory’s eyebrows rose up his face gave Kit some form of entertainment but she would be sure not to mention things like that again. Apparently not getting sweaty between sheets in her free time made her a freak, which suited her just fine.

With interest Kit watched Liv’s display of his talent. If it could be called that. Eyebrows were up in her bangs as she watched the flame in his hand, her lips drawn into a line. Kit grabbed his hand after the fire went out and she shook it before putting her hands back into her lap, “ That couldn’t heat a water droplet let alone set off sprinklers.” Another few bites of the half a sandwich and she lifted the other one to her mouth.

Air out Liv’s computer. Kit blinked but kept to herself, carefully taking a large bite of sandwich so the topic would change by the time she was finished chewing it. Sighing she looked down at the sandwich, it really was better than the pathetic thing she made. Upper caste, spoiled. Kit couldn’t cook worth beans and if she could burn water. Kit leaned away when the finger was being waved at her.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll stop.” Cross eyed, well, almost cross eyed. That was a new concentration face. Kit hid her smile behind another bite of her sandwich before watching him bat it away and talk again about things she didn’t know about. Well, that’s what she got for living in an office under paper work she filled out but didn’t read and then going home to crawl into bed.

“Oh, Aeglaeca, you can just call me Kit. All the of my other names are too long or hard to pronounce. Just... So you know. Can I call ya Jory? I know we never bump into one another... Ever... But your first name is easier to say than Aeglaeca.” Kit gave a wide smile before looking away for a moment, making a small frown. “ Hm, What exactly do you two do again?” Looking from Liv to Jory, Kits eyebrows were up and she had a small simple smile on her face. An awkward attempt at conversation, her foot gently tapping against the roof.

[Anonymous]

Liv realized that he'd begun doing it again.  Around Jory, he felt himself, automatically enough, playing find-the-subtext.  Picking apart the weave of the last few sentences, Liv found nothing more interesting than the nonchalantly dropped thread of a proper name.  

He looked back toward Kit, away from the gray-eyed Pilot.  Something about Jory, probably their happy family connection, still left him wary, but Kit made everything all pink and fluffy-like, even if she did seem more awkward out in the light of day.  Awkward, Liv thought, he gravitated toward awkward, even if he didn't always recognize it as such, well, comparatively, anyway.  Awkward and cute.  Her face twisted itself, mouth and eyebrows working, up, down... yes.  Awkward.

Liv sat back, rubbing his hands together, aware, after Kit had grabbed him, of all the old burn scars striping his fingers.  Oh-kay, so he sucked at the pyrokinesis, thanks.  He restricted himself to a faint, arch eye-roll.

"I," he said, drawing it out, so it sounded more like eeyyyyee, "set off sprinklers even without the pyro stuff.  And--"  His brain, caught up in formulating comebacks, caught up to what Kit'd just said, and he eyed her sideways.  Oh, c'mon.  What they did?  Liv had just enough pride to half-believe that everyone had taken it as a kick in gut when he'd made CU18, but apparently not.  

But she looked so wide-eyed and befuddled.  Well, fine.

"--Eh?  I'm in a code unit, Kitty, it's very--hey, Jor, hang on, who or what is Yanki?  A euphemism for jerking off, or Someone Special, or None of the Above...?"

[Anonymous]

After five years of being called Candidate Aeglaeca more than his first name and a professional life that was a lighter version of the same, with a slight change in title, it was easy to forget that even in the military there was room for first names on duty.  They were better suited to casual talks on the roof.  Liv, neither of his names was easier to say, but he was practically family and exempt from the usual rule.

"Kit," he clicked the 't', opening the lighter and lighting his cigarette.  "Gotcha."  He took a drag, tilted his head back and blew a cloud of smoke.  "Be a little awkward if you kept calling me Aeglaeca now."  Little grin, eyes narrowed for a second and an eyebrow perked.

Liv was practically begging to be veiled in the smoke from his next drag when he continued the too sexy for your sprinkles routine.  Jory took a long drag, held it, ashed the cigarette - and Liv paused and switched subjects.  Jobs, without another jab at pyro so I'm hot humor because Liv wasn't Marren, and Yanki.  Jory raised his eyebrows, afterward remembering that Yanki was too shiny and new for the tabloids to know about him.  Or maybe there were other interesting things taking up their attention.  Something, whatever it was didn't get under Felicia's skin so he didn't hear about it.

I GOT IT!!  Marren laughed, and if the sound wasn't being broadcast into his head Jory might have heard it echoing up from the Eyrie.  Jory pulled his knees up and tipped his head toward them, running a hand up the side of his head to rub against his port.  If they were connected through the Network, Jory could have put a piece of foil against it and muted most of the onslaught of sound.  This was just psychic connection, there was nothing to do but wait it out and try not to drop and crush his cigarette while he tried to keep his brain from collapsing.

I'm remembering that one.  It's perfect.  Before he faded away, Marren sent a brief wave of comforting energy washing around Jory's head.  If his ears weren't ringing, Jory may have paid more attention to it.

Jory shook his head against his knees and looked up just far enough to see Liv and Zya-Kit.  These laughing fits never seemed to last long, but they were still unwelcome interruptions.  He pressed his head into his knees again for a second then lifted it, rolling his eyes and smirking.  "I just might need to keep Yanki around," he leaned back and took a drag.  "He's somewhere between the first two.  Little more than a euphemism, but not anyone special.  Someone to go bother when I don't feel like staying around the Citadel or nothing's going on after work... at the R&D facilities.  I help make things that go boom."