Remnants of the Earth
AEDOLIS => Haviah => The Citadel => Topic started by: Rhi-Rhi on February 06, 2014, 08:47:22 pm
-
Shiloh slumped over his desk, staring at the pile of paperwork before him. Paperwork he hadn't yet touched. Instead, he had taken to playing with the paperclips on his desk as he decided how best he was going to tackle this monster.
There was a report to fill out on his last mission, shit that needed to be filed, mail that needed to be mailed...
Boring ass stuff that had him fidgeting just thinking about it--and thinking about it was all he'd gotten done so far.
With a sigh, he tossed his paperclip creation onto the desk--and startled when he saw he'd fashioned a shiv.
Er.
Old habits died hard?
Glancing around, even though he was alone in the office, he grabbed it and started to quickly take it apart.
-
Paris knocked on the office door. He squinted at the wood, reflexively trying to view the emotions he was picking up from the Pilot on the other side. Stupid wood in the way.
"It's candidate Lockland, sir."
-
"Thank fuckin' god!" Shiloh blurted, and was on his feet while Paris was still speaking. He dropped the almost-but-not-quite disassembled shiv onto his desk and pulled the door open.
"Lockland? Yer th' help, yeah? Th' paper filer person?"
-
"Uh." It was a good thing he couldn't observe his own emotions. This concoction of indignation and mild surprise would be mighty interesting to see.
"I'm your...stage five assistant? Soooo..."
So that didn't equate in his mind the "paper filer" but he couldn't exactly argue with a superior?
-
"So ya deal with all my paperwork an' shit, yeah?" Shiloh said, heading back to his chair so he could plop down into it. He rolled it back enough so he could prop his heavy boots up onto the desk, motioned to the pile of paperwork sitting there, untouched and unorganized, and lifted an eyebrow expectantly.
-
"I...could?" Paris frowned down at the mess of paperwork. He didn't catch himself until several seconds later. So unlike him! It must be nerves or...something.
"I mean, yes, sir. If that's what you need." He was, after all, here to assist.
Where to start, though? There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to all this that he could see. He scanned the documents on the desk but didn't touch anything yet. "What is all this, sir?"
-
"Paperwork," Shiloh answered with a shrug. "Forms an' shit. Official mission documents fer a thing I did. Prolly some bills in there, too, an'--hey..."
Eyes narrowing, Shiloh leaned forward a little to study Paris more closely. Then he rested back in his chair again and cracked a grin. "Wait. Don't I know ya? We was candidates together, weren't we?"
-
Paris sighed. Was Shiloh just now realizing this? "Yes, sir. Just a few months ago."
Probably Shiloh hadn't recognized him because Paris was not yet staring at him in that manner he had that tended to disconcert others. They hadn't exactly been close, either, what with Shiloh's psionics and Paris's requiring such different instruction.
-
Shiloh's grin broadened. "Hah yeah, tha's right. I recognize ya now! Yer tha' one creepy ass kid. Damn. What a difference a coupla months makes, yeah? I got picked out first, now I'm yer boss 'cause I got a dragon, an' tha's pretty much th' only difference 'tween us. Now ya get ta do my borin' shit."
Folding his arms behind his head, Shiloh wriggled deeper into his chair. "I can really get used to this personal assistant shit."
-
Paris didn't generally hold with insubordination. He rather prided himself on adherence to policy and protocol, even under difficult circumstances. But Shiloh didn't feel like a Pilot and this didn't feel like an interaction between a superior and a subordinate.
He rolled his eyes and began gathering all the papers into a pile. "Great. Let me know if you need a massage, too, sir."
-
That was an option?
Shiloh perked up. "Come to think of it, I do!"
-
Paris could have kicked himself. Of course Shiloh would latch onto sarcasm literally.
"Would you like that before or after I do all of your personal paperwork, sir?"
-
"Th' fuck ya think? Both," Shiloh answered, shooting Paris a total duh! look. It had only been a day since his mission--which had been a success!--and he was still sore and bruised from it. No real injuries, but things had gotten physical, and he tended to carry his tension in his shoulders.
Sitting up, he shrugged out of his leather jacket and hung it on his chair. "I've got like th' gnarliest fuckin' knots."
-
With nary but a slight purse to his lips, Paris circled behind the Pilot.
"You realize, sir," he said, laying his hands upon the curve of muscle where Shiloh's neck joined to his shoulders, "that I've never actually given anyone a massage before."
He ran his palms down to Shiloh's back and up again, squeezing and applying pressure at random. Just because he had to go along with this foolishness didn't mean he would be any good at it. "May I respectfully suggest you allow me to make you an appointment with an actual masseuse?"
-
Yeah, this massage was kind of sucking balls.
"Well fer starters, ya gotta actually like...use some pressure," Shiloh said with a scowl. "Yer doin' it like a little girl with like...little girl hands or some shit. And what th' fuck's a masseuse? Like fuckin'...Doctor Zeus? Th' author? How th' fuck's that s'pposed to help me here?"
-
Paris was so surprised he actually paused, his hands stilled upon Shiloh's back.
"You've never been to a masseuse, sir? Really? They give massages professionally. May I suggest you give one a try?"
-
...People that gave massages? Professionally?
Shiloh sat up straight and smacked Paris's hands away. "Like, real massages? And I'm talkin' real ones, like none of this pussy shit ya just pulled on me."
-
Paris didn't miss a beat, and he was all too happy to be relieved of massage duty. "Yes, sir. Real massages. Of many different kinds."
-
Shiloh was on his feet in a heartbeat. "Well, shit, whatcha just standin' there fer? Book me one fer now and let's get th' fuck there."
-
Paris prided himself on a swift and unquestioning adherence to duty. Nonetheless, less than ten minutes in Shiloh's presence had him hesitating like a first year candidate.
"Now, sir?" It was so wrong to question an order and yet. "...both of us?"
-
Shiloh stared at Paris blankly. And people called him dense. "Uh...duh?"
-
"Yes," Paris said, deflating. "Duh."
For a moment there, he'd thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to get Shiloh out at a spa and be free to go do something productive with his time. "Well then. Just give me a moment, sir."
Five minutes on his phone had assured them a spot at the high-end spa one building away. He'd been there before and knew it to be exceptional.
"We can depart whenever you're ready, sir. I've alerted the spa to our arrival. They work exclusively on appointment but are of course unbearably thrilled to make an exception for the chance to service a Pilot."
-
"Service?" Shiloh repeated, and couldn't help the schoolboy snicker that escaped him. "Nice. They give full body massages or what, eh?"
He grabbed up his phone and slipped on his bomber jacket as he started for the door. "I'm ready now. Goddamn. Why didn't ya tell me about them professional massagers in the first fuckin' place? I coulda been there like ten minutes ago, not gettin' th' worst massage of my life."
-
"Of course," Paris said, following the Pilot out the door. "And some limited sexual services if you require."
-
Shiloh whirled around, wide-eyed, to stare at Paris in shock. This massage dealie was getting better and better by the second. "Are they hot?"
-
Paris found that he rarely thought of beauty and attraction in the more common ways. Were they hot? He had no real idea.
"I'm certain they go out of their way to staff attractive people, yes sir."
-
"Fuck yeah!" Shiloh turned right back around and started marching out again, at a brisker pace than before. "I can't believe this, like...like, they give blowjobs? That what they do? Like is it handys or blowjobs 'cause like...fuckin' awesome. Do they do it while they're massagin' ya?"
-
Paris had to speed walk to keep up with Pilot Lockwood. He seemed disproportionately excited about this, to Paris's estimation.
"I know they offer oral sex and and handjobs. I...don't know the particulars. I've never partaken of those services."
-
Shiloh looked at Paris, both eyebrows raised high. "Why th' fuck not?"
-
Paris just shrugged. He didn't get the feeling Pilot Lockwood would mind the breach in protocol, and he didn't feel like explaining his general disinterest in sex.
-
"...Oookay then," Shiloh said, one eyebrow raised. He didn't get this guy. Who wouldn't be interested in jumping all over that shit?
Whatever. More for him, then!
"Ya ever done th' spa shit at all?"