Cherubplay

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Dress shoes were surprisingly quiet on carpet, or at least Scratch's were. Though he knew when stealth was best applied and when it was not necessary, it came to him almost on a reflex. He was doing something that was essentially against the rules, he figured. Though when the actual rules had been discussed long ago with the Felt, 'do not invite a member of the rival gang, especially the one who is most likely to lacerate someone on a whim' was not stated. It was assumed, of course, and not many of the Felt would even consider it. There were the occasional exceptions, yes, but none all that present at the moment. He thought it funny, in a way; most did not filter their thoughts, and he always received them, whether he wanted to or not. That was where it stopped being funny and started to be a bit disturbing. But he'd never call anybody out on things; they were part of a larger mix that encompassed so many individual minds that it made no actual matter to Scratch. By now he'd grown used to it. One's thought process followed their actions and current position, as well as future changes to the two, which Scratch was more concerned with at this point in time. It was easy for him to maneuver about undetected, and as long as Spades Slick followed his lead, it'd remain that way.

That meant it wasn't advised Slick continued using the front door. Scratch was caught between chastising him and shaking his head while chuckling. It was quaint somehow, but Scratch knew it wasn't the best way to enter unnoticed, even if Doc Scratch was waiting there to receive him. He was sure they could arrange something, however, and that the topic could be broached between them that night. There was time enough, he thought. Scratch was not expecting any distractions, and when he did not expect them that meant they were not to occur. If something happened to go awry (and it wouldn't) Scratch would be able to set things back on the right track without a problem. He did not fear discovery, and if they were stumbled upon or followed he could make amends through a few tricks of his. Necessary evil, he supposed. Scratch hoped nobody followed them, in all truth. He'd feel very bad about the whole thing once he'd "resolved" it.

Scratch opened the front door once Slick had arrived, not as wide as he had a few nights ago, before leaving for the park. He did not exactly greet Slick, except for a quick half smile, before putting a finger to his lips and ushering him in. Voices floated from the stairwell leading down, unaware of the new intruder. Scratch closed the door with nary a sound after, and then began to lead him up the main staircase.

2014-08-26 20:20:26
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He had only glanced up at the calm night sky before hearing the door softly click, and the green entrance open to reveal the Felt leader. Slick felt an overwhelming sense of what he can only describe as relief, from what though, he wasn't quite sure. Though, he was sure of the light feeling in his chest and the one loud beat of his blood pumper in his ears. Not a few seconds ago, he had been utterly relaxed, and still was, but this foreign feeling that was a mix of adoration and admiration hit him like a ton of bricks. Almost as soon as it occurred, it was gone, though left a tingling sensation that in turn made his skin prickle in delight. This process couldn't have been longer then a few seconds, and as he was opening his mouth to say something, a half assed greeting perhaps, he was silenced by the other's gesture. Slowly, his mouth closed, brows furrowing in slight confusion as he started putting the puzzle pieces together. Eventually, as he was being ushered in, he have a soft 'oh' that was barely audible unless one were listening closely. He was still slightly perturbed by the sync ticking and tocking of clocks around the Manor; a vague feeling of his former immense hatred for them still lingering a bit in his system, but he was paying too much attention as to where he was being led to do much about the grandfather clock he passed and the koo-koo clock eerily awaiting to spring at him. He still didn't understand the concept of these contraptions; he refused to allow anyone in the Crew to even own anything time related. Watches, alarm clocks, or just plan disc clocks set up in kitchens were all banned from the hideout. It made work a bit difficult to keep track of time and whatnot, but Slick doesn't necessarily care about their complaints.

He was expecting to be led into another room on the first floor, more then likely one of the many kitchens he'd 'oh so gracefully' snuck into, but instead he finds himself being led to the main stairway. Halls flanked either side of it, an probably led to some intorguieing places, or Slick assumed as such. He couldn't necessarily tell for sure since the usual sunlight that would illuminate the green palace is now absent and replaced by the shadow realm. Spades Slick idly wondered how everyone could be asleep in sync; considering there's over three times the number of his own Crew in this Manor, he's surprised they all stay in their respective rooms rather then roam and cause a ruckus. Deuce usually went to bed either at a late or early hour, and even then, he was a loud snorer, much more then that of Boxcars, and when the others were attempting to fall asleep, he'd often bug the living shit out of whoever to watch a movie with him. Thankfully, he's been bunking with Hearts and often watches opera shows or romance films with him. Not particularly Slick's favorable time passer, but if it kept them quiet, who was he to complain? That aside, he silently walked up the steps, looking down at them and softening his steps as to not make much, if any, noise. The only reason he was able to navigate easily in the dark without the help of light or his flames, would have to be of Scratch's help. His clothing was so pale and bright that it have it's own source of artificial light. At least the taller could keep him in his peripheral vision as he carefully walked up the stairs.

2014-08-26 22:32:16
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As Scratch led Slick down the darkened hallway to the right, he turned over his shoulder a bit to face the other man. Half whispering and half mouthing the words, Scratch said "Most of the Felt are downstairs, and it'd be wise not to let them catch on to your presence."

There were only a few hours, in the early morning, everyone could be expected to be sleeping. But even then, Scratch was more than likely awake. He'd grown used to ignoring every clock in place and simply going at his own rate when he lived there alone, and breaking the habit was hard. At least now that there were others around, he had some loose schedule to adhere to, and the routine was comforting in a way. Surely this wasn't a regular part of it, however; Scratch led Slick to the only door at the end of the hall, holding it open for the taller man before closing it quietly behind him.

The kitchen had a light on, one overhead and one over the stove, and Slick's place had already been set at the bar. Scratch removed his suit jacket, folding it carefully and putting it over the back of one of the high-legged chairs. He pulled his gloves off afterward, placing them on the bar itself. After, he began rolling his sleeves up.

"Take a seat, please." Scratch advised, and he sounded thoroughly pleased to be hosting Slick at the moment, features brighter than they had been at some points prior. "I am glad you found your way here safely." Scratch almost wanted to say something on Slick's physical state after his fight with Droog, but felt it might not have been in the best of taste. Even a passing remark such as "I hope you are feeling better" might have rubbed the man the wrong way. Scratch didn't want any of that, not tonight, and not after such heavy events. He was sure they'd discuss them later, and Scratch would be sure to tell him how Trace and Fin were skulking around moodily after their punishment. Some explanations were in order, anyway, though he was sure he could do them as he cooked.

2014-08-27 00:11:12
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Slick paused when Scratch had turned around to speak to him, blue hue dilating slightly to adjust to the light as he nodded once slightly.

"Can't promise shit." He grumbled, snorting softly to himself as he was led to the end of the hall. At least he was being truthful; he really couldn't keep a promise, regardless of the situation. His more reckless side seemed to crave to break laws and rules alike anyway. So, in turn by not agreeing to anything, he didn't feel like he had to abide by any requirements, and would often end up not breaking said rules set down in the first place. A little of the 'don't touch the red button' thesis proved truthful for Slick. He still found the place he was in to have the faint scent of lemongrass, though it wasn't an unpleasant smell, it certainly wasn't familiar. A part of him had grown accustomed to the vile tang of alcohol clinging to his taste and sense of smell senses. That, and the ever so present crisp and muggy scent of nicotine hanging in the air. It was much more different in the Manor compared to that of the Crews hideout, and he glances around the room the two had entered to familiarize it with himself before taking the seat Scratch offered and took off his hat.

As always, the accessory stays close, being set upon the bar stool beside himself. He watched the other slide his blazer, one of his brows raising subtly as he realizes now that this is the second time he'd seen Scratch without the article of clothing. It was a bit off, seeing that the man was one that any normal bystander would deem high maintenance, but he felt rather comforted by the simplistic action. Almost as if it was some sort of honor to see the formal man take it down a notch or two. Though, this was the third time he'd seen Scratch without his gloves, it didn't hit him as hard as the removal of the suit jacket considering even without the gloves, he looked as if he were still adorning them, what with his skin color. His gaze lingered for a moment longer then maybe it should have, but he caught himself before running his mechanical claws over the smooth and polished wood of the bar.

"Oh really? Are ya jus' sayin' that so I don't start causin' a ruckus? No one can be glad with my presence, Doc, c'mon now." He scoffed, smirking as he was merely being a smart ass. "No, but really. I don't think it's hard to find the fuckin' green ass monster of a manor ya got. I'd gotta have both eyes poked out for that t'a happen." He points out idly, looking at the bar, then at the kitchen, an back to the bar.

Even the kitchen was rather large, even for Slick's comfort. Everything was just foreign and huge and screaming for him to be on alert and not put his guard down. The lions den was not a place to be relaxing and watching your... Partner(?), cook for you. Though, he would probably be more entertained by watching the shorter bustle about and stir up whatever it was he was intending to make.

"What's in the menu Chef Scratch? 'M starved 'n' I'll soon die if I don't eat anythin'." Maybe that was a bit of over exaggeration, however Slick thought it was blatant enough to show he had enough manners to not eat before coming. Both arms are settled upon the bar then, crossing them an leaning over a bit so his slouched position was more prominent. He never did have the most proper etiquette, though Droog often taught him how to mind his manners and use what utensil for what dish, it was almost impossible to get him to do such a thing if money weren't involved. Not to mention, put on a dapper suit and slick back /all/ of his hair and not have some part slip out unevenly at odd angles and points.

2014-08-27 01:44:14
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"I am well aware of the ease with which the Manor is located, Slick." Doc Scratch said pleasantly, already refreshed by the man's mere invitation to banter. This he enjoyed thoroughly. "I was simply expressing thankfulness no misfortune chanced to befall you on your journey here, a sentiment which I am sure we share." He smirked and glanced over his shoulder at the other man, and when he did he seemed to see through every pretense Slick cared to offer him. "We both know how dangerous this city can be, especially when one roams unaccompanied through the night." That note was sustained for a few more moments as some things were shifted about on the stovetop: a skillet, various smaller containers containing the to taste ingredients necessary.

"I, however, do not fear for your well-being exactly, as you know full well how to take care of yourself. So I suppose it is dangerous to those who happen across you." Another secret smirk, but Slick couldn't deny it and Scratch was teasing enough he wouldn't take offense by it.

"Ah, as for dinner, I apologize in saying that it is nothing /too/ high-end," Scratch started, though he was entirely aware that Spades Slick was not too fond of most "high-end" things, anyway. Yet there he was, watching Scratch closely as he moved about. Scratch was without doubt on the other side of the spectrum in comparison to Slick, even in color coordination. To further that end, he was clean-cut and very professional, well-versed in manners and employing them in most, if not all situations. They were still similar in ways, but the differences were more immediately noticeable.

"Only chicken in a peppered glaze, with some greens." The way he said it was utterly dismissive, as he considered it next to nothing. This was a meal for one, after all, and he had restraints. Scratch's intent was not to produce a wide spread for several, after all, and though this was acceptable he thought there was more potential present. Perhaps he could redeem himself with dessert, anyway. Scratch could feel Slick's eyes on him before they were averted, and it was as if some pressure left him. Whether it was genuine pressure or something else, he didn't say- but he knew Slick had been examining him in one way or another.

"What would you like to drink?" Scratch asked after a moment of silence that he'd filled with his own rumination. Of course, they had a variety of things, but he'd wait to be told. Scratch had little taste in anticipating whims in situations such as these.

2014-08-27 21:45:50
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Slick scoffed, shifting his arms on the surface of the table so that he may rest his scruff covered jaw in his palm, blue hue narrowing subtly as he considered the other's words.

"Mh, I guess. I mean, it wouldn't be very, er, 'polite'-" he made the quotation marks with his first two digits on each hand. "-of me to show up covered in the blood of a bastard ya don't even know, but ay, I can compromise." He shrugs one shoulder, one corner of his mouth tugging up into a half-grin as he used his free hand that wasn't holding his chin to scratch into the wood of the bar quietly. Even when attempting to be respectable, he doesn't fall all the way through. When Scratch glances over his shoulder at him, Slick pauses his scarring of the table, then continues once he turns back to his organization of his goods.

"Aw, I can be a nice guy... Sometimes... If I'm persuaded... 'N' bribed... Then 'gain, I make no promises." He chuckled lightly, seeing that no matter what environment the two were in, there would still be light teasing between them.

Even during the date the rival leaders had, the two seemed to bicker lightly at each other. Some things are harder to quit then others apparently. At the other's point as to what was for the meal, Slick raised a brow when he was informed of what he was soon going to be served. One would be right in assuming he didn't particularly care for the exquisite essences of any sort of high statured lifestyle. Though, the meal sounded flat out appetizing to him, he had a feeling it wouldn't be like anything Droog made. He usually made whatever concoction had the necessary ingredients present in the hideout. So, whenever he didn't cook, they'd eat leftovers or use the former night's dinner to create something else the following night. If Droog didn't also remind Slick to eat, the boss would more then likely neglect to do so; he often forgot he needed such a substance to /live/ and ended up being forced to eat at times. It all depended upon if his subordinates also weren't being worked to the bone and were patient enough to deal with Spades' griping about refusing to eat before his work is finished.

At the question as to what he wanted to drink, he hummed for a moment, contemplating what he wanted, and finally assumed straight whiskey was out of the question. It was suppose to be a pleasant night, not a 'go get fucked up' night like the Crew so often did.

"I'll take a... Glass of wine?" He replied with a question, as if asking were indecent and he'd be condemned to claw out his second eye if he didn't tread lightly.

2014-08-27 22:28:44
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Doc Scratch let out a light chuckle at Slick's "no promises" attitude towards his behavior and general opinion of formalities overall. It was true their contrast was dire in some cases, but it did not make them necessarily incompatible, which cheered Scratch in some subtle way. He covered the chicken with a lid momentarily, stepping away from the stove and moving to the bar, across from Slick. He reached down and slid a cabinet open, finding the neck of a bottle as yet unopened. It only took a few moments of groping about in a nearby drawer before he found the corkscrew and pulled out the stop with ease. The wine glass was produced from where they were kept, above Slick's head. Scratch gave Slick a reprising glance as he poured his glass, as if he'd passed some sort of test on the other's part. The wine was Pinot Noir, and part of Scratch was immensely relieved there was some there. It'd be infinitely embarrassing if he'd had one in stock that paired better with red meats, or God forbid, some dessert wine. He likely wouldn't have been able to live that one down. He knew Spades Slick more than likely wouldn't care, but he had ludicrously high standards for himself, and with good reason.

After handing Slick the glass, Scratch returned to the stove. The aforementioned greens were just asparagus, and though he knew opinions on that particular product varied greatly, in the same marinade as the chicken and still nicely crisp, he hoped he'd find Slick as at least partial to them. If not, his bad, and it should be forgivable, at least by his standards. Spades Slick possessed an entirely different rule book, he understood, one he was largely unaccustomed to. With that thought, the pale man cocked his head, examining Slick with bemused eyes.

"What would one have to do in order to bribe you?" Scratch asked. "What constitutes blackmail in Spades Slick's eyes? Or, in a possibly more positive tone, what does persuading you entail?" Scratch arched a single brow; this was his version of the scenario Slick had given him while at the park. A serious question amidst their regularly-scheduled witticisms and empty teasing. Doc Scratch still valued his response, however; conversation of this sort was difficult for him to come by in Felt Manor, and for Slick's contribution in that aspect he was legitimately thankful.

2014-08-28 02:34:27
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When poured his glass of mentioned drink, he caught the light scent of fruit from the elixir. He couldn't particularly pin it; raspberries? Strawberries? It was just oddly fruity and sweet smelling. He gave the bottle's name a quick glance, furrowing his brows as he recalls hearing this name before, and realizes it was from a bar him and the Crew occasionally waltz into and order free alcohol beverages; they give the place a good shake down if the owner calls with a problem, a client of Slick's. He never ordered this sort of drink there though, just always glanced at it in the bar, curious as to what it tasted like, but always ended up ordering either bourbon or whiskey for the night. The color of it was much darker then he'd originally thought, and he also found it tasted deliciously as well.

He had glanced over at Doc when asked a question, the taller pausing with his thumb wiping once over the outside of the glass as he licks the back of his fangs, tasting the bitter of the wine.

"Ooh, twenty-questions; I like this game. Too bad I suck at games." He scoffs at himself, understanding what the other was getting at, and eventually did some sort of gesture that hinted at 'it varies', which it really did. He didn't just have a standard line of payment. Things to consider when one was asking him or anyone of the Crew members for a favor are countless. He supposed he coul narrow it down a bit for the other though, just the basics as to how he went about proceeding with favors and bribes.

"Mmh... Well, that all depends on the situation. I mean, if I like the guy, if he's an acquaintance, whether or not I can entirely trust this person /not/ to fuck me over somehow; it really falls on them as to what their payment to me would be if they needed a favor or somethin' 'long those lines. Most of the time, money'll cut it. How much of it also depends upon if I like the customer or not; if I absolutely hate the bastard, I ain't above turnin' their offer down." He pauses at that, using his index to skim over the rim of his wine glass.

"I also don't do petty tasks. I ain't anyone's clean-up-crew, that's that person's fault, not mine. Anyway, as for any other payments, I occasionally let some bars allow me 'n' the Crew to raid their alcohol with whatever we have a likin' for--depends if the favor is a big deal or not. If it ain't, then jus' money will work." He shrugs.

"Sometimes if I'm in a good mood, 'n' someone needs a favor, I'll ask for a favor back. If they don't live up to my expectations... Well, violence is one of my known specialties. On rare cases, which was consistin' of two or three people, which I don't think I'm... Ehh, allowed to do anymore?... Is a favor for a..." Fuck, how does he word this?

"... A 'special' kinda payment. The people had been Droog, a curvy bartender, 'n' some other person I hadn't seen for awhile. Anyway, those are my expectations on bribery 'n' payment." Slick finishes his confession up with a downing of wine and places it back down on the bar.

2014-08-28 12:37:42
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Though he came close to echoing the scoff Spades Slick had sounded after his brief jape, Doc Scratch refrained, allowing the "rival" mobster to speak his piece. He didn't exactly consider Slick his rival at all, not only because they were essentially dating, but because the term "rival" indicated the two were relatively close in skill level. He did not mean it in a way to degrade Slick, but... He was honestly out of his league, in more ways than one. Even so, Scratch listened to Slick's elaboration of his customary bribes and taxations; they vaguely lined up with that of the Felt, though Scratch detested heavy drinking, especially on a regular basis, so that one was up to interpretation. Money was always good, even if Scratch couldn't claim to be as keen on it's acquisition as Spades Slick was. He knew when it would come in and from where, and selected only the targets he knew would yield the best results. As for Slick's latest stated method of returning favors, the one he'd only done "two or three" times... That was an incredibly rare occurrence, but not by any rule. It simply didn't happen, for a variety of reasons. One of them being some were actually wary they'd get in trouble with Scratch- who would invariably know. Things were made a great deal more awkward when one considered the fact Doc Scratch knew everything that they got into.

The vast majority of observers would have predicted Doc Scratch to address Slick's "I don't think I'm allowed to do that anymore" line with some sly jab or a dismissive remark, but he received it with neither of those- not even frustration or some scathing reinforcement of the notion. Instead he laughed. An actual laugh, more than likely the first Slick had ever heard from him. It was true Scratch didn't legitimately laugh often, so the sound had an almost refreshing quality to it, like the call of a silver wind chime.

"Well, I would certainly /prefer/ you didn't engage in that sort of activity with others. I trust you can handle that yourself, however, I certainly am not calling you irresponsible." He was grinning, but inside there was a small twinge that occurred when the possibility was considered, one that Scratch was unfamiliar with. He experienced many feelings that he didn't usually in connection to Slick, not wholly good nor bad. Some of both, but all he would have to get used to swiftly.

"I would have asked what it would take for me to bribe or persuade you, but I find the question rather pointless." Scratch shrugged as he turned back to the stove, turning a few dials to the off position.

"Not only because I am aware of both answers already, but because I cannot foresee a situation in which I need to do either, or even find myself indebted to you." He moved to the bar while speaking and lifted Slick's plate, taking it back to the stove in order to place the food on it. Once it was filled, he placed the skillet on an empty burner and returned with the plate to Slick's seat, putting it in the empty space provided.

"There you are." He said quietly, eyes flicking up to Slick's face. He would refill Slick's glass in a moment, after the verdict on the meal.

2014-08-28 21:48:20
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Out of all the responses that Scratch could have expressed; a scold, some sort of fanciful remark for Slick to mind what he does, maybe even a sarcastic and quite smug mumble that he was surprised anyone would do /that/ sort of payment for a guy like himself. He received none of these, an found himself a bit dumbfounded as the shorter's laugh rang like chimes throught the kitchen. It made Spades legitimately freeze, his muscles tensing and holding still as if he'd heard a monster roar in threat, though the laugh was interpreted as violent or hostile. He was well aware it was mere amusement that motivated such a sound to come forth and express Scratch's entertainment, and for Spades Slick, sick bastard of the slums, knowing it was because of his own words, he ends up feeling his face heat up and his blood pumper pound hard and a bit obnoxiously in his ears. He wished to take his hat and use the brim to hide his embarrassing shade of red on his face, but he ends up reframing and clearing his throat as if he were uncomfortable and being interrogated about a genocide by his hands.

It was honestly a good thing Scratch scarcely, if not rarely, laughed. For if he didn't, Slick would have been in a world of self loathing at the snap reaction of the embarring and enamoring emotions that overwhelmed him. Though, at least he had quickly ridded his features of the flushed color when the other spoke on how he 'prefer's if Slick would reframe from doing such indecencies. That would serve not a single problem on the taller's half, seeing that he'd held himself back plenty of times with Droog ever since it's become clear the two leaders were a couple.

"Of course I fuckin' can, I ain't /that/ kinda guy. I mean... There was this one time, but, that was different." He waves it off, not feeling up to explaining it since he felt he'd sound like a sap, and dared not stoop that low. As Scratch picked up his plate, filling it with the delectable food before placing it back, he merely smirked quietly at the Felt member's notion of a question. Apparently, Scratch knew him almost too well.

"Oh really, now? So, which payment do ya think--scratch that, I mean 'know', that I will ask in return?" He mused, blue hue narrowing slightly before relaxing again, glancing down at the steaming food set before himself.

He only now realizes he's being served food, but the other isn't. It stricks him as peculiar, but there were a lot of things odd about Doc Scratch, so he found it best to drop the topic before he could really pick it up. By the way he was being looked at expectantly, he assumed he was being waited on for a comment as to how it tastes; so he does. He takes a bite of the chicken, the fork resting between his lips before the utensil droops down like a wilting flower, and a slightly shocked expression overcomes his facial features. One hand moves to push the food away slightly, pulling the fork out in sync as he swallows.

"... I can't eat this." He pauses. "If I do, I won't look at Droog's shitty cookin' the same way 'gain." He half smiles. "Can ya jus'... Cook for me all th'a time, ya smug bastard?"

The smile widens a bit and he tugs the plate back to himself once more before snickering slightly, just wanting to be an annoying prick.

2014-08-28 23:36:45
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When Spades Slick pushed his plate away a bit, Scratch raised one thin brow almost imperceptibly. Certainly Slick wasn't /that/ idiotic- and thankfully he wasn't, withdrawing the dish after he'd spoken. Scratch nodded cursorily, crossing his arms.

"As much as I would adore being your chef for an extended period of time, I am not so sure your comrades would share the sentiment." Scratch chuckled to himself. "At least you were not foolish enough to entirely reject the meal, as I can tell you now that those who reject my hospitality can quickly find themselves being served my contempt rather than anything else I have to offer. I am very certain you would despise being in such a situation." Slick didn't know what being in the doghouse was- at least, not until he was put there by Doc Scratch.

The First Guardian turned from him and began to run hot water in the sink; Scratch was least likely to leave dirtied dishes lying around for any amount of time. He enjoyed doing them, to some degree, finding the task a welcome distraction and mind-numbingly repetitive; it was a good way to keep his body busy when his mind wouldn't allow him any rest, basically. And now as steam rose slowly from the sink, he pondered the question Slick had tossed back at him.

"Well, we both know I don't have to answer that." Doc Scratch said, dismissive tone a bit marred by his sly smirk. "But I don't doubt for a second you could drum up a variety of things that would please you, ranging from more personal forms of repayment to simply having me around to pester and annoy to your heart's content. I know you do so enjoy doing as much in your spare time." And by his teasing smile, Scratch did as well.

"Perhaps you'd even want me to conduct some business for you. Things to paltry for you to stoop to, you know. Balancing checkbooks, paying bills, organizing folders, that sort of menial labor. Whatever your cruel mind cared to concoct, I surmise. Though I know you to be above asking of me certain things." Scratch retrieved the wine bottle; the glass was still cool from the cabinet in his white palm as he refilled Slick's glass.

"As coarse as you like to act sometimes, you have morals. Somewhere in there." Scratch nodded his head, indicating Slick's core. "As frail and fragile as they may prove to be, you still exercise them on some form of frequency, of that I am sure." A small smile and Scratch was off again, tidying things that likely didn't didn't belong to him.

2014-08-29 03:13:20
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A small smile and Scratch was off again, cleaning up around the stove area as he left Slick to eat.

2014-08-29 10:47:50
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He scoffs, looking at his food and seeing the asparagus, something that Droog would have to strangle him to eat in any other situation, but is now willingly eating them. Anyone of his Crew would have been shocked and asked if the boss was sick or some sort if he was seen putting anything considered healthy or green in his mouth. The main reason he doesn't, which the Crew probably dot realize, for refusing to eat the crunchy vegetables is because it fucks up his fangs. Of course, he did this to himself by making Droog go through the whole process of shaping them, and he was warned of the downfalls of having them, however he wasn't listening then, and was too prideful to admit it made doing some things a hassle. They were efficient when in a scuffle, sure, but everyday tasks were changing at times.

"Organizin' shit would be a help; but'ta, I have Droog to do that shit. Though, I'll admit, the personal favors sound entertainin'... But yeah, I don't see a situation where ya'd need a favor from me either." He shrugs both shoulders slightly sipping his refilled glass of wine and relaxing where he sat as he contemplated a few things he still wanted to go over.

When he was mainly finished with his meal, and Scratch was doing the dishes, he casually slid out from his seat, shoes making soft clicks against the floor as he walked into the kitchen. Doc Scratch was indeed right, Slick enjoyed being annoying and sometimes even that of a prick, but where one would have done something smart like 'accidentally' knock something over or merely tease Doc on something and press sensitive buttons, he instead went for a more affectionate route. He doesn't remember the last time, if eer, he'd used legitimate tender actions to rub someone the wrong way, seeing that he doubted it was possible. Maybe that why he goes for that route in the end; he doesn't necessarily wish to bother Scratch, at least not too much.

He doesn't just outwardly wrap his arms around the shorter, not wanting to both spook him or irritate him with the abruptness. So, he just carefully presses his fingertips along the other's hollow of his back, and gently moves them to slide around the shorter's sides before curling his arms around his waist. All he did then was rest his chin on Scratch's shoulder and watch him do the dishes.

"... So, 'bout earlier today." He starts, quite comfortable. "Ya neglected t'a tell me ya'd be showin' up. I didn't even get to prepare a sassy comment for the situation." He gives a noise between a scoff and light snicker. "Though, I can drop that matter. What I'm more curious 'bout is Trace 'n' Fin; mainly the one my subordinate knocked out. He fine?" The tone of choice was uncaring, a bit nonchalant really like he were conversing about the weather and was bored of the normal day-to-day sun. Though, he did hope that droog hadn't perminanty damaged Fin, as much as he'd hate to say it. Maybe there was some good morals in him... Or maybe he's just looking to not get punched in the face; either is a possibility.

2014-08-29 12:39:46
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Scratch had an odd relationship with heat; oftentimes he felt strangely cool, which was part of the reason he was almost always in full dress. But whenever his abilities as a First Guardian came into the equation, the temperature not only of his body but of the air around him would invariably rise. He didn't use his powers often, even for his own self-defense; that much energy, especially in a small area, was threatening to any bystanders, friend or foe. After gratuitous use, Scratch would experience a burning sensation- not necessarily painful or harmful to him, but the energy he used did affect his physical state to some degree. All of that heat radiated from within him, however; the heat from the dishwater was next to scalding, but he was the sort to enjoy that. More heat became present in his cheeks as Slick wrapped his arms around his waist, holding him closely. It was accompanied by a minor light green flush, one that Scratch did little to quell (unlike Spades Slick had earlier). He had been going to ask the other man to bring him his plate so he could wash it as well, but stopped himself. He didn't want Slick to move away just yet, though he wasn't about to admit it.

"Yes, Fin will make a full recovery in due time." Doc Scratch said, mouth drawing up slightly into a grin. "He has a rather bad concussion, however." He paused. "And his attitude regarding their house arrest is even worse, but that's to be expected, really. It isn't permanent, mind you- they'll be out and about again eventually. Though they will be far less likely to venture into your territory."

Scratch had been telling them all true when he'd apologized for the inconvenience Fin and Trace had caused the Crew, aware that he'd made a deal with Slick regarding their territory's boundaries and respecting them. As yet, only Fin and Trace had broken the exact perimeter. At least the rest of the Felt had been thoroughly cautioned by the string of events, and no one wanted to be the next victim. Regardless, Scratch was secretly amused Spades Slick had asked after them. He was sure it was to lead farther into the subject for the two of them, but what a way to land the topic.

"And I am sorry I did not forewarn you I would be making an appearance." Scratch said dismissively. "Your natural reaction was much more convincing than any lie would have been, at the very least. Perhaps it was best you did not have some sassy comment in store for me for that exact reason." Scratch considered it a moment. "Well, here I am now, at your mercy." He was a bit sarcastic, but most of whatever Slick desired to toss at Scratch in the snark department could be weathered by the latter, and even bounced back to some degree. Scratch always had some form of response, and more often than not had the last word.

2014-08-29 20:16:07
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The steam that went up and curled about the empty air above it was almost hypnotizing, and Slick found himself watching the other work out his task with much more interest then one would originally. It was late, so in turn the Crew leader had a bit of energy, considering, much like the song he can be caught humming when in a delighted mood, he rises with the moon and goes to bed with the sun. He had been doing just that all day, sleeping more so then he would have originally, what with his body attempting to recuperate from the pleasant beating Droog handed him personally. He was still stiff with sore muscles and fresh wounds, but besides that he was perfectly fine, if not a bit energized. He doesn't necessarily act upon his newfound energy, merely takes things slowly and casually like he had all the time in the world to do as he pleased.

"Aw, I know someone who won't be too happy with that." He commented upon the mentions of Fin making a full recovery, smirking slightly himself as he can just picture Droog throwing his cue stick against the wall and having a momentary hissy fit, before calming down quickly at an alarming rate, and then go back to the task he had been performing prior to being told that his actions were for naught. The slight tinge in the others's practically snow white features do not go unnoticed by the taller man, a soft scoff coming from him. He doesn't mention it, willing to spare Doc some embarrassment, and instead rolls his blue hue.

"Yea, I figured he'd have some sorta shit after what Droog did't'a 'im. Can't say I feel bad, so I won't. Anyway, ya must've been slackin' Scratch; lettin' your subordinates do as they wish? Tsk, tsk." He had zero rights to be pulling this card, however there it was, in full view as he used a sarcastic tone mixed with a mocking, matter-of-fact scold. All he could do was chuckle, taking Scratch on his word that the two shark-like Felt members would leave Midnight Crew territory alone.

At the mention of Doc Scratch being at Slick's 'mercy', the taller let out a cackle, turning his face away since he didn't exactly wish to laugh in the other's ear. He obviously couldn't help it, shoulders shaking slightly along with his dying laughter as he ends it with a shake of his head.

"Sure, sure, yer at my mercy. Hm... What't'a do with ya..." He hums lightly, as if honestly contemplating his choices, and the hum slowly but surely drops to a sound close to that of a large cat purring pleasantly at being scratched under it's chin. It wasn't loud, nor was it inaudible. It was much like white noise, comforting almost, if it weren't for the sly smirk curling his lips. Slick nuzzles briefly into the crook of the other's neck, the scent of vanilla masking his senses at an almost overwhelming state, though he wasn't complaining in the slightest. A nip of sharp teeth against pale skin was placed there, before he brushes his lips upward, barely ghosting, and nips his ear like a playful kitten before snickering and letting him go.

"I'll figure somethin' out." Slick shrugs.

2014-08-29 23:25:02
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Scratch washed the dishes slowly and methodically, the same manner with which he did many things. He was efficient, yes, and there weren't even that many dirtied dishes to begin with. He didn't mind Slick's proximity in the least, in fact he rather enjoyed it. Until he teased the other about slacking off, which earned Slick a veritable roll of emerald eyes and a minute smirk.

"It's difficult to rein those two in." Doc Scratch said. "Unless you happened to be in possession of literal reins. Even then they are apt to act out however they like- but I think now they will realize it is not a good idea to do so, especially in your territory." The duo wouldn't head back out for a while, but when they did Scratch would watch them carefully.

"At any rate, fifteen is a much greater number to be responsible for than three." Scratch said, matching Slick's teasing tone step for step. "I do well enough for that number, if I do say so myself."

Though he'd never said as much aloud, Doc Scratch thoroughly enjoyed the rumbling noise Spades Slick was capable of producing, and enjoyed it when the other man did it in response to whatever actions he took. It wasn't the easiest thing in the world to contain, but Scratch just managed not to blush further and even prevented shivers from wracking his body in response to Slick nipping at his neck and ear.

"I would advise you choose carefully in whatever it is you think you shall do." Scratch said astutely, turning his head a bit to better view the other man. "I reserve the right to my own reaction, and I am fully capable of not serving you the dessert I had prepared for tonight. Though it really is up to you." He flashed a quick grin to the other, being fully confident now in his cooking area. Dessert foods were something that came especially easy to him, and he felt rather good about how tonight's had turned out. It really had been too long since he'd served someone a meal he'd made himself.

2014-08-30 04:59:00
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A shrug and muffled scoff comes from Slick at the mention of ratios between the Felt and Midnight Crew subordinates. He'd have to give the other at least /some/ credit for his handiworkm with the Felt's massive amount of embers, but them again, he doesn't verbally express his thoughts, out of subtle intimidation that it may affect his own pride in a way. It usually took quite a bit to make Slick set his own ego and pride aside, not even money could buy his admiration.

"If ya say so; I prolly would've been at my wits end with your subordinates. I mean, if I can barely stand jus' three, I dunno how I'd do with fifteen.

2014-08-30 15:27:05
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A shrug and muffled scoff comes from Slick at the mention of ratios between the Felt and Midnight Crew subordinates. He'd have to give the other at least /some/ credit for his handiworkm with the Felt's massive amount of embers, but them again, he doesn't verbally express his thoughts, out of subtle intimidation that it may affect his own pride in a way. It usually took quite a bit to make Slick set his own ego and pride aside, not even money could buy his admiration.

"If ya say so; I prolly would've been at my wits end with your subordinates. I mean, if I can barely stand jus' three, I dunno how I'd do with fifteen. Prolly pull my hair out 'n' start burnin' shit." He smiled lightly at the thought, and remembers he still needs a cigarette sooner or later; more then likely later since he was quite comfortable resting against Scratch. Though he had to stoop a bit to hold him close, it wasn't much of a hassle.

His attention was pulled from his own thoughts when Scratch spoke of dessert and how Slick should behave. The taller thought he was doing well in behaving himself, much better then he had the first time they encountered one another. At least now he wasn't clawing through walls and burning scorch marks into the obnoxiously green woods that surrounded every inch of the Manor.

"Well, with that statement, my vast choices are now lowered to... Eh, one, which I ain't fuckin' thrilled 'bout. Ya ain't fare Doc." He almost complained, groaning lightly instead and sighing against the paler male before slowly retracting his arms, and standing straight back up. He stretched to pop a few joints, then gave a satisfied grunt before going to fetch his plate, knowing the other more then likely would wish to wash it as well.

"A'ight, what's this dessert shit ya got?" He plate was set on the counter before being pushed and slid over to Doc, his head titled to the side only subtly. He didn't know there was more then just the dinner meal, and hadn't been expecting it, so he was a bit skeptical at the moment. He hoped it wasn't some form of trick, but seeing that the other hasn't lied to him yet, he's taking the Felt leader up on his word. A part of a Spades Slick hopes it's vanilla related, but a majority of him hopes it isn't since he was suppose to be on his best behavior, and a mouth full of vanilla sounds great at the moment... Dessert or not.

2014-08-30 15:38:17
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After Spades Slick backed away from him and brought his plate over to the counter, Doc Scratch reached for a drawer adjacent to him and pulled out a dishtowel to begin drying his hands with. He nodded when Slick stated he'd be tearing his hair if he had to be in charge of the Felt, and Scratch did not doubt it for a second. They were a taxing bunch of morons, but they were his morons, and he would do well to keep them all in line. Fin and Trace had received a different form of discipline, seeing as they had repeatedly broken the rules and needed something to, ah... Motivate them to obey, in a manner of speaking. That was part of the reason Scratch hadn't kept them from going out that night. Another was that the Midnight Crew needed to be more aware of his stance in the Felt's activity and that he had no qualms with confronting them when necessary. In a way he was helping them, letting them know that. But one thing Scratch knew was certain was that if he was the leader of the Midnight Crew, Diamonds Droog certainly would not have been as disrespectful as he was. Then again, he might have been biased against the other man, for reasons he was skillfully ignoring.

Scratch had to chuckle when Slick deemed him unfair, letting it roll off his shoulders with ease. He opened a higher cabinet (not so much high for some others, but Scratch personally had to roll up onto his tiptoes) and pulled down a smaller white plate for Slick to use. After, he went to the tall refrigerator and opened it, producing a marble cheesecake. Though it wasn't completely vanilla (as that was the entire point of a marble cheesecake) as Slick had hoped, it was partially. The other part was chocolate, brown interspersed with the white in an intricate spiral pattern Scratch likely worked too hard on. To his minor relief, it cut smoothly and was fully set. The piece he cut was delivered to Slick back at his seat, and the rest of the dessert was put away.

"At least wait until you have finished." Scratch smirked at the other man. "Afterward, I suppose you are no longer required to behave." Scratch guessed this would be to the other man's relief. He was impressed and glad Slick had acted as well as he did.

"I feel particularly honored you decide to be so... Well-mannered when in my company." Scratch said conversationally, and there was no teasing element present. "It really does speak about you, though you may protest that all you like. I am aware you are doing it by choice- I'm not exactly forcing you, after all." Scratch gave the darkly-dressed man a warm smile, one he might not have seen before.

Doc Scratch was thoroughly pleased with how well the night had progressed thus far; he knew it wasn't over yet, but at least Slick had enjoyed himself with the meal and company. That mattered a veritable deal to Scratch, actually, as it was essentially the base of the whole "hosting" thing he was so renowned for. He would anyone say whatever they liked about him and not exactly care, but the moment his reputation in that arena was questioned, the gloves were off, so to speak.

2014-08-30 20:21:48
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Seeing Scratch stand on his tiptoes was a lot more entertaining then it originally should have been. The taller didn't give a loud snicker, albeit it was difficult to swallow such an amused noise down, all he did was smirk. Besides that, he gave a knowing glance, almost smug really, but stayed wordless on a response towards such a small occurrence. Slick may not have been the tallest guy around, and maybe he was an inch below average height, he was still undoubtedly taller then Scratch, and almost brought this point up. It was only when he saw Scartch tugging out a cake from the fridge did he think better of it and blinked a bit baffled at the dessert. From what he observed, he knew it was a cheesecake, though when it was cut into and the swirls were revealed, his brow furrowed. He'd never seen such a complicated sweet before and was again surprised that the Felt leader went through the trouble of making such a complicated cake.

He's watched Droog bake and cook things multiple times, at times was even forced to help the hostile man make food for the Crew. The most complicated thing he's seen come out the oven was baked chicken, or brownies. Besides that, the Crew were much content with the less luxurious sorts of foods. It wasn't as if they couldn't afford it, they certainly could if Droog were allowed to go out and purshase anything he wished, but Slick was strict on their money, even when it wasn't necessary. He will swear up and down that he hates the obnoxious green color that colors the entire Manor, but bring up cash, and he's all ears. If he were to be pegged as a sin, greed would undoubtedly be his vice. His blue hue traced over the complex slice as it was set before him, leaning forward slightly as he snorts at the other.

"A'ight, Picasso. Remember ya said that; no takesies backsies." He pointed out, giving the other a quick flick of a glance before taking a bite of the cake.

It looked to be vanilla and chocolate, and upon eating it, he found his theory to be correct. It tasted quite good actually, especially for it being a dessert he hasn't necessarily tried before.

2014-08-30 23:10:56
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Doc Scratch, for the most part, cared little about his height. Sometimes the thought popped up at inconvenient times, usually when he was the focus of many people. That was when it became irksome, and even embarrassing to some degree. The only thing Scratch had to hold on to in that department was that Clover was shorter than he was, thankfully. Even though it wasn't by a lot, it was something. It didn't matter much when Stitch could put his chin on top of Scratch's head easily. He was one of the few who dared actually tease him about it, and what he garnered from his efforts was a pouty and stubborn Doc Scratch. Spades Slick would be sure to receive the same, perhaps to a higher degree. It was nothing unforgivable, but it would still yield results.

Personally, Scratch enjoyed both the texture and flavor of richer desserts such as the one he'd made for Slick that evening. It felt pleasantly substantial to him, which was ironic considering he was the one who went without any food at all for abnormally extended periods of time. Scratch still had his preferences, despite how they related to his proclivities. He wasn't normally like that, but it was one of his few "do as I say and not as I do" aspects. He suspected this also encompassed the whole 'bringing in an enemy on pretenses that do not have anything to do with furthering the goals of the Felt and instead being rather benign and borderline traitorous'. Well, that had to explain why it was so thrilling to him.

"Why Slick," Scratch couldn't bring himself to sound cross about what Slick said, and instead quelled a smirk. "Your tone suggests that you fear I will somehow cheat you. Needless to say, that will not be the case, at least in this particular instance. Though what it is you are so keen not be robbed of is... Lost to me, I am afraid." Scratch's smile was the paragon of innocence, and it was all he could do not to bat his eyes at the other man. As much as Spades Slick adored being a nuisance to any degree, mild or major, Scratch could not deny he enjoyed his own side of mischief when it was allotted him. It was not very often he got to, but he did make the most of it whenever possible.

2014-08-31 04:00:43
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He enjoyed the dessert, deeply actually, and would take a mental note to tell Droog to occasionally make or more likely buy such a cake from the grocery store. Hopefully they would have such a complex cake there; if not, we'll. Droog would definitely have to learn how to cook such a delicate piece. Slick certainly wasn't experienced much in the kitchen, his food usually coming out burnt or still aflame. The only time he cooked something actually edible was when Droog supervised, and he wasn't left too long alone with a bottle of beer. He was never aware that soup was legitimately capable of catching fire, nor was he aware brownies are not suppose to be pitch back. He could really learn a tip or two from Scratch, however he didn't have the patience to actually take up such a hobby as such without wishing to set everything on fire in his frustration.

He was stuffing another mouthful of cake beyond his chasm of fangs when Scratch spoke using a teasing and oh so 'innocent' tone with him as the taller could only narrow his blue hue at the shorter. He held up an index, planning to put up some grand point, but took too long before he rolls his eye and places his forehead on the surface of the bar, attempting to hide his for the moment as he swallowed.

"God fuckin' damnit." He grumbled in a curse, sitting straight back up as he could speak now, and now pointed at Scratch with a skeptical expression.

"Ya know damn well..." He starts trailing off, eventually catching on to the other's sarcasm, and stared for a second or two before smirking.

"Ya smug ass bastard, I oughta..." 'Oughta' what? He couldn't do anything about it, or at least, not much. If it were anyone else, he probably would have been irritated and barked back an insult, but instead with Scratch, he puts his fork down and coaxes the other over by tugging carefully at his sleeve.

He didn't necessarily want to yank him over, trying to avoid any abrupt or quick movements as he tried to smoothly get the other to come closer and possibly, and this was a minor possibility, but that doesn't stop him from trying at least.

"... Well, since ya don't recall, I get to misbehave however I want. So, eh, I need ya to, well-" he pauses, contemplating how to go about asking Doc Scratch this favor of sorts. "-I need'ja t'a sit on my lap." Another pause. "Please...?" The word tasted odd coming from his mouth, but he resists furrowing his brow at himself, smirking instead as he pats his lap once with his free hand. He could have just yanked the other into doing so, seeing that he could do as he wished, to an extent of course, and with that in mind, he didn't want to be too much of a pushover.

2014-08-31 05:07:27
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Scratch was tactful enough not to roll his eyes at Spades Slick's words, but did provide him with a faux-resigned sigh.

"As you wish." He said, almost cringing when he found that the bar stool made Slick even taller, and he had to use the rung near the bottom to boost himself up in order to even access Slick's lap. He sat carefully where the other man had indicated, slightly poised due to the fact it was, after all, another person's lap. It became obvious now that Scratch was indeed very light- Slick hadn't been wrong that first day, when he'd assumed Biscuits could throw Scratch across the room. The final four members of the Felt, in fact, were capable of hefting Scratch with disparaging ease. For the most powerful man around, he was, physically, nothing more than a lightweight. He figured it came in handy when sitting in laps, though.

"Though I hate to remind you, Slick, while I did say you were not /required/ to behave yourself, it is advised your actions reflect at least some level of acceptable decorum." A smirk tugged once more at his features; Slick had used the word /please/. Doc Scratch knew that he was not on the fast track to any sort of destructive or malignant misbehavior, but a sort of conduct that qualified as 'misbehavior' to the other man nonetheless. And Scratch would be caught lying if he said it didn't put him on edge at least a little.

"You should also bear in mind that we are still under what is technically my roof as well as laboring under my hospitalities, and I reserve the right to respond to your actions with whatever I deem is in accordance with them." He smiled sweetly after that, which half constituted as an easy warning to the other gangster. The other half... Scratch wouldn't place it, exactly. "But, by all means, please carry on."

Doc Scratch was still adjusting to it, but he found his new place in such immediate proximity to the Midnight Crew's leader not to be wholly disagreeable; this really was his first time sitting in anybody's lap, which he hoped Slick had already accounted for in whatever it was he intended to carry on with. Scratch pretended not to know; feigning ignorance was something he practiced often, and weaved into everyday things such as conversations with the other Felt members. He asked questions and listened acutely even though he had no real need to; this was more of a social skill, the result of which made the other person feel accredited and important. Scratch was not lacking in personal conduct, and if all it took to improve relationships between them was a few questions, Scratch could handle that. Though the odds Slick had questions for Scratch were slim; the form of interrogation he'd practiced on the Felt leader a while back seemed much more plausible.

2014-08-31 14:00:39
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Slick blinked once, twice, and slowly he processed that Scratch had actually agreed. Doc Scratch, leader of the Felt and a respectable deity, has agreed to sit upon his lap. A part of him scorned his hearing sense, at first thinking he hear the other wrong, but when the other started moving and eventually was set upon Slick's lap, a hint of a sly smirk curled upon his features. It was a bit amusing to see the shorter have a very minute climb onto the stool, Slick making sure he had room before settling his hands casually and lightly on the Felt's sides. Not necessarily on his hips, but up a bit more so as to not make him uncomfortable and also not have his hands hanging at his sides with no purpose.

"Color me surprised. I didn't think ya'd do it." He mumbled, still smiling, if a bit smugly, as he was able to shift about easily in his seat. Scratch was indeed light, and a part of Slick was tempted to make him bounce like a toddler on a gaurdian's lap. He reframes, however the thought makes him snicker lightly.

Doc's promise has him calming down a bit though, and a slight tinge of... What he can only pin to be frustration, at the qualms.

"A'ight, lemme level with ya. Ya should know by now that I, personally, don't wanna harm ya. I mean, regardless of the fact I can't legitimately do that shit without ya causin' pain back." He sighs.

"Ya should also no I have no fuckin' intentions to make the wrong move with ya, or put ya in an awkward position or whatever. Y'know what I mean; bottom line is, I am fully aware of what the word 'stop' means." Though, Spades Slick wouldn't dare push him that far where such a word would be of use, he wants it to be known, besides mentally being acknowledged, that he indeed had no intentions of harming Scratch or making him uncomfortable. It was the sole reason he takes each step he does with great care, more so then usual, and he watches what moves he makes as much as he can, just so he doesn't push the other away. He wasn't a patient man, that much anyone knew, so the fact he was taking his time right now was utterly surprising. He also had to keep in mind this would be the first time the shorter has ever done something even remotely considered affectionate, so he'd have to be patient for a longer time then originally expected, which was fine. Maybe if it was anyone else, it wouldn't be fine, but he... Likes Scratch, a lot, which is embarrassing and frustrating, but he hasn't made a single move to change it.

He gives a couple short and slight tugs on the vibrant green button up fabric located at Doc's sides where the taller's hands rest, wanting him to lean closer. The former purring from earlier finds it's way to kickstart again, and a slight smile is apparent on his features.

"Jus', relax, Doc." He coaxed, seeing now that he was actually an inch or so taller then him from his perch upon the darkly dressed man's lap. As much as it should have bothered him, it didn't, and he ends up taking the dark green bow tie encircled around the man's neck as leverage before tugging him just that inch or two closer, finally kissing him. The cake had been consisting of both chocolate and vanilla flavors, but it still didn't compare to the sweet taste of the dessert on his lap.

2014-08-31 16:41:43
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"Now Slick, why would I shut down your offer? You've behaved thus far, and perhaps some positive reinforcement will do you some good." Doc Scratch almost didn't recognize the words coming out of his own mouth. He had never considered himself flirtatious by any means whatsoever- even when he complimented others it was purely to make his good opinions known, never to charm anyone. For the longest time he'd believed he was incapable of charming anybody at all. Sometimes he still bought into that, but that happened with decreasing frequency these days. He couldn't deny Slick had helped him with that- Scratch could count on one hand the people who'd ever made him feel flattered and Slick was at the top of the list. Though he hadn't said a lot of it aloud, his actions and thoughts spoke for him, and Scratch found himself increasingly enamored with the other man.

And deep down he knew that was the real reason he'd sat so readily on Spades Slick's lap; he did feel attachment and affection toward him, but was unskilled in displaying it properly. He knew actions were not the only thing necessary in communicating this, but they were of use. Scratch remembered when the Felt had first arrived and he'd sworn up and down he wouldn't get attached to any of them. That had been a very short-lived notion, as Scratch really was not coldhearted at all, especially not towards them. This had almost been the same with Spades Slick, but Scratch had seen this coming. He'd known it was going to happen. He couldn't say he was surprised (he never could) but he could say that the magnitude of the emotion he felt now was unprecedented. This being the first time he'd ever felt it, of course it had to be. And it was directed towards the last person it should have been, to Scratch's discontent and odd amusement.

"I'm not afraid you'll hurt me." Scratch said, his voice appropriately low for their current degree of closeness. His eyes were half-closed, examining Slick's face carefully. "I know you won't- not purposely." But Scratch didn't know what, if anything, he feared from Slick- it was likely that he was just hesitant due to his inexperience with relationships. But he already knew how everything worked, and even what was going to happen, so he felt that as more of an excuse than a reason.

And maybe that was why when Slick pulled him nearer by his bow tie he had no qualms, and returned Slick's kiss readily. His left arm went to brace him across the back of the chair and behind Slick's shoulders, his right inactive yet. He didn't want Slick to think he was afraid of anything, or felt pressured- he wasn't. He wouldn't even be mad if Slick pulled at his bow tie or suspenders, really. That was completely manageable by Scratch's standards- Slick was manageable, and he might've been the only one who considered the Crew's leader such.

2014-08-31 18:16:59