fandomhighdorms | Wednesday Morning, the Deck

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Wednesday Morning, the Deck

Jack was bouncing a ball off the furniture and the steps outside on the deck. It was too early to be ~~emo~~ contemplative on the roof, so the deck was the next best place as he sat and thought about things. About Fandom. About the people here. About.... where he would be this time next year.

And if he'd ticked off Karla that other day. Hey, he got pizza out of it, couldn't be too bad.

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Karla, unaware that her temper was being pondered, decided to airwalk around the building for a bit before Reserves. She was always like this the first few days after being nearly-Craftless: filled with energy and wanting to use Craft for everything, almost to reassure herself that she could.

And found Jack. "Kiss kiss," she said, raising a brow at him. "Trying to decide where you can go next, uninvited?"

"Uh, hi. Um. Sorry about that?" He raked his hands through his hair, not exactly making eye contact.

Karla sighed and rolled her eyes. "It's all right, Jack. I've mostly given up the idea to make everything you eat taste like pickleberries. It was...just a really bad time. For me. To see males, I mean."

"Oh. It's... that time?"

Jack Burton, so worldly.

[the mun, so html-y.]

Karla checked the sun. "What time?" she asked, confused. "And is it just me, or is it getting warmer out?" She unfastened a few of the top buttons of her shirt.

"It's about time for the weather to get warm," he said, noticing the action. "It should be a nice day out. Assuming that it doesn't start raining snakes or something, he said.

He then quickly--very quickly--knocked on wood.

Karla giggled. Giggled. "Does it do that often here? Like the alligators?"

"Oh, no. Not that. Something else will happen and then you spend the whole day wet, covered in ick, or thinking that you're a superhero. Or your kids arrive. Or you age a few decades overnight. That? Happens." Jack managed this with a mostly straight face.

"Wet, huh? That sounds really good right now. Perhaps I shall go for a swim before the Reserves meet. Do you swim, Jack?" Karla asked, idly twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

"I've been known to swim on occasion," he admitted. "You've seen the pool, right?"

Something caught his ear. "The Reserves? That's the fight thing that's not the Fi--the other thing, right?"

"Pool? No, I meant the beach, with the sun warm on your skin. It's like it leaves tiny kisses all over your body, and the breeze that's just so...invigorating..." she wore a dreamy smile, and her hand left her hair to fiddle with more buttons.

"What other thing?" she asked eventually.

The beach sounded...amazing. He shifted a bit, thinking of...the sun.

"It's... a way to blow off steam. Spar with someone. Not supposed to talk about it, though." Way to obey the rules, Jack.

"Really? You can't tell me? Not even a little bit?" She pouted. "I gave you pizza and everything."

That 'everything' was a little breathy and soft, suggesting all sorts of things that hadn't happened.

"It's against the rules. And you know how I am about rules," he said, shifting slightly. It was a bit warm outside for him, even in a tanktop.

"I can tell you something about it, though," he said, looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

"Do I? I don't think I do. How are you, Jack? About...rules?" She leaned over, shirt slipping down over her shoulder as she offered him her ear. "Tell me something. Tell me something...good."

He swallowed, probably audible about fifty feet away. "There's a place. Be there Sunday. You'll find out about it. Wear...something you don't mind getting dirty," he said, giving her the once-over.

Karla heard the swallow. It only made her smile. "Oh, I don't mind getting dirty one bit," she said with a throaty chuckle. "But where am I supposed to go on Sunday? You never told me. I guess you'll just have to take me, won't you? Oh, will I have be blindfolded first."

In her defense, Karla honestly didn't know 'take me' has multiple meanings. Idioms are new.

"I'll tell you about it Sunday. And bring the blindfold." He gave her another once-over, his eyes lingering. "And you might want to wear something that won't limit your movements," he said, pulling at his own tanktop. Why was he sweating?

Jack was really trying to be a gentleman. Or trying to avoid being castrated by a bat'leth. One of the two. Idioms aren't helping.

"This? This doesn't limit anything, see?" She performed a quick backbend, leaving herself that way for a few moments, her face level with Jack's hip. "I can do anything in clothing like this. It's so light and airy; so thin you can almost see through it!"

"I...yeah, that's...not quite," he said, shifting about a bit to not be so...awkward. Yeah, awkward, that's the right term. "But do you have anything else to wear? I mean, if that gets ripped, it won't be good," he said.

He was being pragmatic. Isn't he charming?

She shifted as well, before straightening back up. When she stood, she was very close to Jack. Very, very close. Certainly invading his personal space. "I actually just got a trunk full of clothing yesterday," she said, bringing up her hands to trace designs on the front of Jack's shirt. "So this clothing could just get torn off of me and I'd be fine."

Jack was very much not minding having his personal space invaded. "A whole trunkful, you say?" he asked as he tugged lightly on the shoulder of her shirt as if to feel the material. "But if it's torn off...?" ...he wasn't really sure where hew as going with that. Didn't want to reveal too much.

"It gets torn off," she said, shrugging, causing her shoulder to brush against his fingers. "I'm not particularly fond of clothing anyway."

She meant fancy clothing and clothes shopping. For some reason, it just didn't come out that way.

"One of the reasons I like the beach so much. So much less to wear..." she giggled again.

"I'm not a fan of clothing either," he said, looking down at his own outfit. Victorian Frippery it wasn't. "Much rather be in shorts and a tank, out doing whatever than in a suit and tie stuck behind a desk, you know? But the beach...yeah, I like that idea." He didn't mean to move her shirt. He should let go. Any second now.

Right. Like Karla will be backing up soon. Totally.

"This fabric is odd," she said, running her fingers down the front of his tank. "What is it?" Her fingers reached his waistband, skimmed across his waist for a few moments, and then began skittering back up.

[To bed for me!]

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Wednesday Morning, the Deck

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