[ said in a tone that's also very much not reassuring. and — yeah, actually, it does seem like junpei can just say things and charles will simply do as instructed, or suggested, quite simply, without even thinking about it.
which is why with a shrug (and the movement makes him jostle junpei a bit in his arms), charles bends his knees to let junpei stand on his own feet again, though only for a second; his hand on his back moves to his waist, joined by his other hand, and he just lifts.
holding him up in the air is just as effortless like this, only, they're pretty much eye level with each other like this and it's easier for charles to give him a challenging smirk, raising his brows. ]
[This is not a power Junpei should have, he thinks. Charles moves to put him back down and he feels a weird mixture of relieved and disappointed, not that he's going to unpack that right now. Then, oh, hello—]
Uh, what—
[Hello, being lifted by the waist is a brand new experience that comes with a moment of shocked sputtering and a fresh flush of color in his cheeks. He grabs Charles's shoulders automatically so as not to flip over or something - not that that's possible, but underneath the first response of bwuh??? that's what his brain provides.
So he's handling this deftly. After a beat of mild boggling he looks down with a thoughtful hum, as if he's checking out the viability of this for levitating. Hmm, hmm...]
[ it's not difficult, this — it's not like his muscles can really hurt, so he's capable of being a lot stronger than he used to be in life, and despite being unable to physically change, decades of whacking things really hard with his bat has made his spirit stronger.
that doesn't stop him from briefly worrying about dropping junpei, though, now that he's holding him in a less secure way, and so (instead of, you know, setting him back on the floor like might be the expected move, the smart move) he takes a step back, then another, braces himself by leaning against the wall while keeping their position otherwise the same.
and then he just grins fondly and rolls his eyes, as if to say, well now you're just being difficult on purpose. ]
Yeah? Just technically, is it. All right, what do you suggest, then?
[He is being difficult on purpose, thanks for noticing. Not being dropped immediately makes the worry about being dropped immediately go right out the window (the alcohol may also help with this), and Junpei scoffs. Is Charles not the expert haunter? Must he, some guy, come up with ghostly special effects himself?
It's very specific. He drums his fingers on Charles' shoulders in mock seriousness.]
Wires? [A beat.] No, wait, that's actual amateur theater. Let me think.
[...But is he thinking or is he just looking at Charles, that's the real question. It's a hassle to be difficult on purpose for too long, and yet, Charles keeps giving him that look, the look of letting him get away with it. Another power he should not have.]
Have you ever seen that movie with the, uh, big dance lift? Don't do that in here, I'll whack my head on the ceiling light, but that might work.
[Only the lift part, specifically, as Junpei overestimates his ability to not flop uselessly like a levitating fish in this scenario.]
being pretty only takes you so far and he passed that like twenty tags ago
[ no, wait, that's actual amateur theater, he says, and charles ducks his head and laughs, almost despite himself, before looking up at junpei, due to their changed angle this time and waiting for him to come up with a solution — because, really, despite being a ghost, charles hasn't, you know, actually haunted a lot of places, or people. comes with the whole fact that their cases take them so many different places, and that their clients are themselves ghosts, too —
anyway. he makes a considering hum at the suggestion. ] Huh, yeah, maybe. I mean, might be a stretch for me, that... I don't wanna drop you.
[ said like that's the biggest issue with that particular move. he glances back at junpei, though, and realising that he probably should let him down — well. edwin doesn't call him impetuous for nothing — ]
Could do this, though, [ he says and promptly lifts his arms sharply to get momentum so he can actually throw junpei just a bit in the air, just the right height for it to be impressive but not so high as to risk him actually hitting his head on the ceiling, indeed; and then he simply catches him in a hug as he falls, before setting him back down on his feet. ]
[Junpei makes a face and nods very seriously, like yeah, he doesn't want to be dropped either. He'd probably go face-first into the floor, or worse, desert sand if Charles decides to be funny in their hypothetical future meeting outside of this place.
Leaving aside that the rest of his psychic quantum friends could probably also, well, see Charles, Junpei's had too many drinks to apply that logic to eight more people.
He's also had too many drinks to get thrown in the air with dignity, even a toss this shallow; he swears and scrambles, all but clinging to Charles when he comes back down.
He does not let go when his feet touch the floor; he is owed an apology, nay, groveling.]
What the hell, [he says, into Charles' shoulder,] it's my birthday.
[ charles, in turn, just laughs for a moment, a sort of delighted laugh at the entire situation, at the way junpei is clinging to him still, the way he swears so sharply — and then he simply tightens his hold on him, tilting his head so he can speak close to his ear, voice low and with mirth but also genuinely apologetic, ] Sorry, sorry! Really. Didn't mean to startle you. Just — you're the one who wasn't happy with my party tricks, yeah?
[ and then, as if realising he's overlooked something, ] Oh, bloody hell. I never said happy birthday, did I? Well —
[ he runs his hands up and down his back a few times as if to reassure him still. his voice, low still, is warm. ]
[Ah, and that is - a lot of Charles, somehow more than when he lifted him up. The part of Junpei that manages to squeak out a logical thought, maybe let go and go sit down again, is drowned out almost completely by hands on his back and Charles' voice in his ear. He's only half listening to the words, even, huh...]
Thanks. I already forgave you for party tricks.
[Just, you know, in his head. Oop. After another moment he leans back to arms length, expression serious, like he has a real announcement to make.]
It's only kind of my birthday. My birthday's in February. I was, uh, [he holds up a hand to tap in a row in the air, which is supposed to mean calendar,] just counting from when I got here. It was New Year's back home, so it wasn't long.
[ it's maybe silly, the way he visibly perks up when hearing he's forgiven — not that, you know, he was too afraid of that not happening in the first place. and yet!
the sudden declaration about his actual birthday makes charles pause, adding the new information and rearranging what he'd already known — and then he just nods. ]
I mean, that's fine, innit? If you were still back home, you'd be celebrating now, so — [ he shrugs, as if this logic makes perfect sense to him. ]
It's weird anyway, jumping us to a different calendar entirely, yeah? Like — like we somehow missed some months in the middle. It would've been winter for me, too. [ a pause. ] 'Sides, this means we can just celebrate again when it's February here. [ his grin widens when a thought hits him — ] Oi, this means I can buy you a present twice! [ he sounds inordinately pleased by this. ]
Well, maybe. [Maybe he'd be celebrating, maybe he'd be doing Important Work, maybe he'd be slumped in a squeaky office chair in a dingy private investigator's office and bemoaning cold takeout - all of those, actually, because the many-worlds interpretation is real and accurate.
But maybe. He says it and then finds that he likes this particular "celebration" more than he might have expected, given the circumstances—kidnapped again, the past few weeks, etc. Many things suck terribly, also real and accurate, but Charles and the bag of drinks are not among them.
So like, 7/10 birthday.]
You really don't have to buy me stuff... [More stuff; he's including the drinks. And yet he will cherish all presents, anyway.] You said May, right? Just you wait until spring, or...
[Hang on. He's counting, squinting at nothing on the other side of the room as he does.] ...uh, October. Probably.
[ "maybe" may be (ha) his conclusion, but charles just shrugs again and says, ] Well, not for nothing, but I'm glad you're having your birthday here. Glad to get to celebrate it with you.
[ and then, adding, ] Yeah, I know. But I don't really spend money on myself, do I? Don't need food, and I can change clothes by thinking about it. So might as well spend it on something important.
[ he just says it all like it's obvious, matter-of-fact, his tone at once light and serious. then, watching junpei stare intently at absolutely nothing, and arrive at what is maybe the right corresponding month, he just chuckles and shakes his head. ] Sure, mate, if that makes you happy. [ he pauses. groans, ] Bloody hell, I'm gonna have to make some kind of corresponding calendar thing, to keep track of your dates and this place's dates.
[Ooh, something important, that's just enough to spark something warm in his chest. He scoffs and looks down, failing to stifle a pleased grin.]
Okay, you win, but you should know in advance, I haven't had a birthday party since I was eight, and it was supposed to be a pool party, and it rained the whole time. I am a novice at real celebrating.
[As for this calendar idea of his, that's... not a bad idea? Junpei raises an eyebrow, like, well, they do already have two points of reference: New Year's 2029 and this pseudobirthday of his; it surely wouldn't take that long at all to make the rest of the year.
So now that he's already written off all the math as just whatever,] Could make a desk calendar... like, with riddles and stuff on each day?
[ the words are accompanied by a bright, sincere grin — sorry, his friendship doesn't come without unwavering belief and affirming words of support! it's what you signed up for, junpei, even if you didn't know it at the time.
and then he just has to blink in bafflement at the way the conversation goes from calendars to riddles — ] Wait, riddles?
[ sounds... strange, but because he's, as previously established, a supportive friend, ] I mean, sure. Just — there's already two dates per day, yeah? [ why are they... making it more difficult.... ]
[Now, in fairness, Junpei has never had a desk calendar himself, but he's seen desks and he's seen the miscellaneous gift fodder at the checkout line of every bookstore ever built, so why not make the world's most unwieldy calendar.]
It can have today's date here, sub-date whatever it is in the original calendar, sub-sub-info, How many bricks does it take to complete a brick building?
Edited (don't look at my late typo correction) 2024-08-06 22:36 (UTC)
[ in fact, their office in london does very much have a desk calendar, but it's a normal, boring one with holidays marked on it — both normal holidays and those of different cultures and time periods, just in case. you never know when you need to know that the third tuesday of a particular month just so happened to be a significant celebration to a subset of irish fae.
instead of explaining this, though, charles just tilts his head in consideration. ]
So like, one of those big ones? You need the paper pad ones, one-a-day calendar experience.
[These are the only calendars that exist in Junpei's mind, so obviously, switch to the one that lets you look forward to tearing a piece of paper every day, which will never in a million years also make you think about the futility of your day job and also of trying to do good.
That kind of calendar. He holds his fingers up in a rectangle, for emphasis. That kind.
[ he's about to try and explain that one-a-day calendars are a bit weird when you're a ghost and sometimes your best friend forgets about the passing of time when he gets really into studying ancient dead languages and one time spent five weeks immersed in books and charles had already been bored out of his mind then and if he'd had to tear away one calendar page per day he might have chucked himself into a lake —
and then junpei just sort of off-handedly delivers the punchline to his joke-slash-riddle, and any words charles has just promptly dissolve into laughter. ]
I hate you, [ he says, in the tone of someone who couldn't possibly mean it less. shaking his head, he looks around, and seems to finally realise they're still standing up. ] Oh, hell, should we sit down? Like, not on the floor? Can't be good for you, that, or comfortable.
[He's got more! Not enough to fill a calendar, probably, but there's more where that came from. He follows Charles' look around the room, like, oh yeah... he is upright indeed.]
Standing isn't good for me...? I could sit. I could have another drink, too.
[He didn't entirely finish the last one, but it's somewhere else now, so please pick him another drink (birthday privilege) while he shuffles backwards to sit on the edge of the bed.]
Hey. What part of the chicken has the most feathers?
[ he sure meant that sitting on the floor is what's not good for him, but instead of correcting him, charles just shakes his head with a fond smile and turns away to the now-abandoned bag to pick him another drink — a beer, since he seems to prefer those, an ipa that he grabbed mostly for the higher alcohol content.
he hands it over as he then falls back to sit on the floor himself, right across from junpei. and with a raise of his brows, ]
No clue, but I'm sure you're about to enlighten me.
[He hums as he scoots back a bit on the bed and crosses one leg over his knee, considering the beer - ooh, fancy.]
You're not even going to guess? It's a chicken, how many parts could it have?
[Pleeeease guess. Pleeeease. He's doing his very best pleading eyes, but he keeps making a face like he's going to laugh at his own bit, so it's - goofy.]
[ but i haven't even drunk anything is charles' first thought when the floor seems to lurch under him as he stares at junpei (or maybe it's his stomach doing a full one-eighty, he's not entirely sure here). his second thought is, shit, he's cute. his third thought is just a solid what.
no, you know what, he'll... get back to this later. maybe. possibly.
right now, he's got a joke-riddle to answer, because apparently he's got no defense against junpei looking at him like that. ] Right, okay. Uh, the wings?
[ he doesn't even really think about it — just says the first thing that comes to mind. in all honesty, he's not entirely sure he could reliably describe a chicken right now if he was asked to. ]
[For his part, Junpei is delighted to get any answer at all, even if-]
Nope.
[—and he waits for a moment, as if getting the answer wrong is going to go poorly for some reason? No need to worry about that right now. Since there isn't any catastrophe, Junpei's free to lean back on his free hand and say, a teensy bit smugly:]
[ charles just grins as he gets the answer wrong, as he expected — and then sort of waves his hand a little as if to say, well, go on, when the correction isn't immediately forthcoming —
and then he just. groans, tipping his head back, and then just promptly falling onto his back on the floor for dramatic effect. and then, from the floor, ] Well, if they ever make bad jokes an Olympic sport, reckon you've got a good chance of winning.
[ he takes a moment to think of something, and remembers something junpei had told him, about the alternate histories and the movie reference. so... ] Why'd someone want to have a DeLorean as a second car?
[He shifts to lay on his side, leaning on his elbow and waggling the beer briefly for emphasis. Thanks, he's the world champion of bits. But ooh, a movie riddle, that's interesting--]
A second car? Why does it have to be a second car?
[He thinks about it... he thinks about it some more... he drinks his fancy beer, he thinks some more...]
[ charles, still sprawled on the floor, pushes himself up on his elbows and grins the kind of sunny smile that precedes him being impossibly annoying. ]
So they can drive it from time to time.
[ see, he can do this too! not as well though, and his arsenal of jokes is definitely not quite as good, but. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yep yep yep
[ said in a tone that's also very much not reassuring. and — yeah, actually, it does seem like junpei can just say things and charles will simply do as instructed, or suggested, quite simply, without even thinking about it.
which is why with a shrug (and the movement makes him jostle junpei a bit in his arms), charles bends his knees to let junpei stand on his own feet again, though only for a second; his hand on his back moves to his waist, joined by his other hand, and he just lifts.
holding him up in the air is just as effortless like this, only, they're pretty much eye level with each other like this and it's easier for charles to give him a challenging smirk, raising his brows. ]
Better? [ you know, to imitate levitating. ]
my eyes are shut in shame
Uh, what—
[Hello, being lifted by the waist is a brand new experience that comes with a moment of shocked sputtering and a fresh flush of color in his cheeks. He grabs Charles's shoulders automatically so as not to flip over or something - not that that's possible, but underneath the first response of bwuh??? that's what his brain provides.
So he's handling this deftly. After a beat of mild boggling he looks down with a thoughtful hum, as if he's checking out the viability of this for levitating. Hmm, hmm...]
It's like... amateur theater special effects level levitating, now. Technically better.
at least junpei has the excuse of being, like, somewhat drunk - charles has none. smh
that doesn't stop him from briefly worrying about dropping junpei, though, now that he's holding him in a less secure way, and so (instead of, you know, setting him back on the floor like might be the expected move, the smart move) he takes a step back, then another, braces himself by leaning against the wall while keeping their position otherwise the same.
and then he just grins fondly and rolls his eyes, as if to say, well now you're just being difficult on purpose. ]
Yeah? Just technically, is it. All right, what do you suggest, then?
he's pretty, he doesn't need an excuse
It's very specific. He drums his fingers on Charles' shoulders in mock seriousness.]
Wires? [A beat.] No, wait, that's actual amateur theater. Let me think.
[...But is he thinking or is he just looking at Charles, that's the real question. It's a hassle to be difficult on purpose for too long, and yet, Charles keeps giving him that look, the look of letting him get away with it. Another power he should not have.]
Have you ever seen that movie with the, uh, big dance lift? Don't do that in here, I'll whack my head on the ceiling light, but that might work.
[Only the lift part, specifically, as Junpei overestimates his ability to not flop uselessly like a levitating fish in this scenario.]
being pretty only takes you so far and he passed that like twenty tags ago
anyway. he makes a considering hum at the suggestion. ] Huh, yeah, maybe. I mean, might be a stretch for me, that... I don't wanna drop you.
[ said like that's the biggest issue with that particular move. he glances back at junpei, though, and realising that he probably should let him down — well. edwin doesn't call him impetuous for nothing — ]
Could do this, though, [ he says and promptly lifts his arms sharply to get momentum so he can actually throw junpei just a bit in the air, just the right height for it to be impressive but not so high as to risk him actually hitting his head on the ceiling, indeed; and then he simply catches him in a hug as he falls, before setting him back down on his feet. ]
damn, arrested for pretty boy crimes
Leaving aside that the rest of his psychic quantum friends could probably also, well, see Charles, Junpei's had too many drinks to apply that logic to eight more people.
He's also had too many drinks to get thrown in the air with dignity, even a toss this shallow; he swears and scrambles, all but clinging to Charles when he comes back down.
He does not let go when his feet touch the floor; he is owed an apology, nay, groveling.]
What the hell, [he says, into Charles' shoulder,] it's my birthday.
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[ and then, as if realising he's overlooked something, ] Oh, bloody hell. I never said happy birthday, did I? Well —
[ he runs his hands up and down his back a few times as if to reassure him still. his voice, low still, is warm. ]
Happy birthday, Junpei. And sorry, honest.
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Thanks. I already forgave you for party tricks.
[Just, you know, in his head. Oop. After another moment he leans back to arms length, expression serious, like he has a real announcement to make.]
It's only kind of my birthday. My birthday's in February. I was, uh, [he holds up a hand to tap in a row in the air, which is supposed to mean calendar,] just counting from when I got here. It was New Year's back home, so it wasn't long.
[Please agree that this is a normal thing to do.]
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the sudden declaration about his actual birthday makes charles pause, adding the new information and rearranging what he'd already known — and then he just nods. ]
I mean, that's fine, innit? If you were still back home, you'd be celebrating now, so — [ he shrugs, as if this logic makes perfect sense to him. ]
It's weird anyway, jumping us to a different calendar entirely, yeah? Like — like we somehow missed some months in the middle. It would've been winter for me, too. [ a pause. ] 'Sides, this means we can just celebrate again when it's February here. [ his grin widens when a thought hits him — ] Oi, this means I can buy you a present twice! [ he sounds inordinately pleased by this. ]
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But maybe. He says it and then finds that he likes this particular "celebration" more than he might have expected, given the circumstances—kidnapped again, the past few weeks, etc. Many things suck terribly, also real and accurate, but Charles and the bag of drinks are not among them.
So like, 7/10 birthday.]
You really don't have to buy me stuff... [More stuff; he's including the drinks. And yet he will cherish all presents, anyway.] You said May, right? Just you wait until spring, or...
[Hang on. He's counting, squinting at nothing on the other side of the room as he does.] ...uh, October. Probably.
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[ and then, adding, ] Yeah, I know. But I don't really spend money on myself, do I? Don't need food, and I can change clothes by thinking about it. So might as well spend it on something important.
[ he just says it all like it's obvious, matter-of-fact, his tone at once light and serious. then, watching junpei stare intently at absolutely nothing, and arrive at what is maybe the right corresponding month, he just chuckles and shakes his head. ] Sure, mate, if that makes you happy. [ he pauses. groans, ] Bloody hell, I'm gonna have to make some kind of corresponding calendar thing, to keep track of your dates and this place's dates.
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Okay, you win, but you should know in advance, I haven't had a birthday party since I was eight, and it was supposed to be a pool party, and it rained the whole time. I am a novice at real celebrating.
[As for this calendar idea of his, that's... not a bad idea? Junpei raises an eyebrow, like, well, they do already have two points of reference: New Year's 2029 and this pseudobirthday of his; it surely wouldn't take that long at all to make the rest of the year.
So now that he's already written off all the math as just whatever,] Could make a desk calendar... like, with riddles and stuff on each day?
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[ the words are accompanied by a bright, sincere grin — sorry, his friendship doesn't come without unwavering belief and affirming words of support! it's what you signed up for, junpei, even if you didn't know it at the time.
and then he just has to blink in bafflement at the way the conversation goes from calendars to riddles — ] Wait, riddles?
[ sounds... strange, but because he's, as previously established, a supportive friend, ] I mean, sure. Just — there's already two dates per day, yeah? [ why are they... making it more difficult.... ]
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[Now, in fairness, Junpei has never had a desk calendar himself, but he's seen desks and he's seen the miscellaneous gift fodder at the checkout line of every bookstore ever built, so why not make the world's most unwieldy calendar.]
It can have today's date here, sub-date whatever it is in the original calendar, sub-sub-info, How many bricks does it take to complete a brick building?
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[ in fact, their office in london does very much have a desk calendar, but it's a normal, boring one with holidays marked on it — both normal holidays and those of different cultures and time periods, just in case. you never know when you need to know that the third tuesday of a particular month just so happened to be a significant celebration to a subset of irish fae.
instead of explaining this, though, charles just tilts his head in consideration. ]
Well? [ don't leave him in suspense like this! ]
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[These are the only calendars that exist in Junpei's mind, so obviously, switch to the one that lets you look forward to tearing a piece of paper every day, which will never in a million years also make you think about the futility of your day job and also of trying to do good.
That kind of calendar. He holds his fingers up in a rectangle, for emphasis. That kind.
And as an afterthought,] Oh— just one.
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and then junpei just sort of off-handedly delivers the punchline to his joke-slash-riddle, and any words charles has just promptly dissolve into laughter. ]
I hate you, [ he says, in the tone of someone who couldn't possibly mean it less. shaking his head, he looks around, and seems to finally realise they're still standing up. ] Oh, hell, should we sit down? Like, not on the floor? Can't be good for you, that, or comfortable.
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[He's got more! Not enough to fill a calendar, probably, but there's more where that came from. He follows Charles' look around the room, like, oh yeah... he is upright indeed.]
Standing isn't good for me...? I could sit. I could have another drink, too.
[He didn't entirely finish the last one, but it's somewhere else now, so please pick him another drink (birthday privilege) while he shuffles backwards to sit on the edge of the bed.]
Hey. What part of the chicken has the most feathers?
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he hands it over as he then falls back to sit on the floor himself, right across from junpei. and with a raise of his brows, ]
No clue, but I'm sure you're about to enlighten me.
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You're not even going to guess? It's a chicken, how many parts could it have?
[Pleeeease guess. Pleeeease. He's doing his very best pleading eyes, but he keeps making a face like he's going to laugh at his own bit, so it's - goofy.]
Come on. What part has the most feathers?
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no, you know what, he'll... get back to this later. maybe. possibly.
right now, he's got a joke-riddle to answer, because apparently he's got no defense against junpei looking at him like that. ] Right, okay. Uh, the wings?
[ he doesn't even really think about it — just says the first thing that comes to mind. in all honesty, he's not entirely sure he could reliably describe a chicken right now if he was asked to. ]
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Nope.
[—and he waits for a moment, as if getting the answer wrong is going to go poorly for some reason? No need to worry about that right now. Since there isn't any catastrophe, Junpei's free to lean back on his free hand and say, a teensy bit smugly:]
It's the outside.
[Hold the applause!!]
You got any?
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and then he just. groans, tipping his head back, and then just promptly falling onto his back on the floor for dramatic effect. and then, from the floor, ] Well, if they ever make bad jokes an Olympic sport, reckon you've got a good chance of winning.
[ he takes a moment to think of something, and remembers something junpei had told him, about the alternate histories and the movie reference. so... ] Why'd someone want to have a DeLorean as a second car?
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[He shifts to lay on his side, leaning on his elbow and waggling the beer briefly for emphasis. Thanks, he's the world champion of bits. But ooh, a movie riddle, that's interesting--]
A second car? Why does it have to be a second car?
[He thinks about it... he thinks about it some more... he drinks his fancy beer, he thinks some more...]
I dunno. Why?
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So they can drive it from time to time.
[ see, he can do this too! not as well though, and his arsenal of jokes is definitely not quite as good, but. ]
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i'm closing my eyes
see no evil hear no evil--
what's gayer, being gay or whatever they're doing now
theyre the "homosexuality doesn't even begin to explain the behaviour these men are exhibiting" meme
that & clown to clown communication... 🎀