[ he'd done well to mind his own business for a while on the ship, but then — well, apparently some stranded planet bullshit decided it'd find a way to make him leave his quarters for a while.
son of a bitch.
he explores on his own for a while, but when it becomes evident he's not learning much about this place on his own, he reluctantly reaches out to the one person he's bothered interacting with thus far: ]
[ she almost doesn’t recognize the name popping up on her display, wracking her memory at first — and then she remembers, finally pairs it to a busted-up face.
why he thinks she’d have any firm answer on the subject is beyond her. does that stop her from replying? of course not. ]
fuck if I know
but I guess we need repairs before we’re airborne again
so wait that’s it? you’re just going to go all man vs wild communing with nature out there? don’t you think you might need, oh I don’t know like a shelter of some kind?
[ does the danae even have tents? this is a question she should probably find out the answer to. ]
[ they haven't spoken since ... that. but once communication with the ship returns, allowing them to get back on, he figures it might be worth checking that she made it back and didn't end up stranded in some cave or anything. ]
[ the irony being she might actually be in the room right next to his when she gets this message, but she'd been taking advantage of a damn working shower for a change. ]
[ The message comes pretty late into a "night" on the ship, but not the early morning just yet. Still, given everything that's happening, Cash will only send the one message — if she's one of the people who's managing to sleep, he doesn't want to mess that up for her. ]
In terms of inventions, it's pretty high up there.
[ There's not enough of a supply on the ship for Cash to drink as much as he'd want to, normally. Which means that he's both drinking less and smoking less than he used to. No smoking at all, in fact, because of the lack of cigarettes. It's kind of a bummer for him, but he'd never complain about either. ]
[ and maybe she... has been storing away some here and there for moments like this one when sleep is either elusive or she actually doesn't want to drift off for fear of what will happen if she closes her eyes. ]
[ Dark and murky is half the selection under the bar, at least, that isn't the fruitihol from their forest planet stop. Cash grabs a bottle of something that's got a dark amber ring and makes his way to Wynonna's room, poking his head in. ]
[ she doesn't have any real hesitation about appearing to him like she is now — hair swept back from her face and up into a ponytail, dressed in clothes that are clearly intended more for the training room that she'd come from. if she's not sleeping, she'd figured maybe she could just punch it out for a while, hit a bag enough times to put her muscles in a limp state and then... pass out.
she's sitting at the foot of her bed when he shows, bracing her hands on the edge of the mattress as she hunches her shoulders forward. ]
Hey, you found me. [ the edge of her mouth twists up into a weak attempt at a smile. ] I mean, it's not a huge ship, so... process of elimination, really.
[ Cash offers a tired smile. He's got dark shadows under his eyes that have never really been there before, thanks to his now-absent dream magic, and his body language is more stiff than usual, but he's here. Wearing a simple shirt, and the black shorts he uses for exercising or just slovenly existing in.
He sits down next to her, stretching his long legs out. ]
Oh, it wasn't that hard. I just followed the sound of delightful company.
[ A sigh escapes him. Not commentary on her, but commentary on the situation in general. He nods at her clothes, offering her one of the glasses he'd brought along with the bottle. ]
[ Wynonna doesn't wear her exhaustion in her face in the form of obvious bags so much as she just looks drawn, more hollowed-out, like the parts of her that used to be softened are narrowed-down and now she's trying to find more pieces to add back on again.
She listens to the sound of her cabin door hissing shut behind him, reaching out for the glass as he sits down beside her, close enough for their shoulders to brush. ]
Something like that. Figures it'd take whatever shit is going on right now to actually make me want to use the gym for once.
[ Most of the time, she is a firm opponent of workouts, although she'll be reluctant to admit that she actually does feel better afterward. ]
[ He pours her a drink first, because it's polite, before he tips any into his own glass. Mostly he's amazed he remembered glasses. Sometimes, lately, he forgets to put on shoes and has to double back to his room.
Not that they haven't just passed a bottle back and forth before. ]
Distractions are great.
[ Cash smiles wryly as he clinks their glasses together. He's used the gym, of course, but most of the time he just prefers to jog laps in the oxygen garden or work out in his room. ]
[ It's not like glasses are any mandatory thing with her; she would've been just as okay with them taking swigs directly out of the bottle, and she's done it herself enough times when she's too damn lazy to clean any glasses. It's also the reason why she's been willing to drink whiskey out of a fancy flowered teacup or a coffee mug. You work with what you have. ]
Mmm. Too much of this, though, and I'll be passing right out on you.
[ So she's going to nurse hers at first, taking a brief sip. The liquor doesn't even really burn going down anymore. ]
You know, I didn't even notice. These last few hours... almost feels like we're all just trying to move underwater.
[ He gives a little shrug in response to the idea of her passing out. It will take more than this bottle to do the same to him. If she can get some sleep out of it, he's more than fine with her company dropping off. So to speak. ]
I think that the empathy bond means that even people who aren't being directly affected are still getting secondary drunkenness off everyone else's misery.
[ There really should be safeguards against that, he thinks — surely the people who designed the empathy bond wouldn't be that short-sighted.
He sips. ]
I'm trying to keep it to myself, but it's harder to suppress the bond the more tired you are. Apparently.
[ It's a fine line sometimes for her between drowsiness and being completely shitfaced, and it's even harder for her to tell the difference when she already feels like she's running on fumes. ]
Oh good. So it's basically like one long continuous party.
[ Not that she even fully understands the empathy bond herself, and it hasn't actually stopped her from touching the people she wants to touch; she's just... made every attempt to try and shove her own feelings down where she can. ]
Good thing neither of us have any deep emotions that might get us in trouble here, huh? [ It's a poor attempt at a joke, but now she's starting to realize that the two of them, alone in a room together, might set her up for something she isn't prepared to visit head-on. ]
The worst pity party imaginable, [ Cash agrees. He goes ahead and knocks the rest of his glass back, pouring himself a new one as he decides not to be shy. It's going to take a few more glasses for it to start really affecting him, anyway.
Might as well get the pleasant burn down his throat. As he glances up from his glass, the corners of his lips twitch. It's more self-deprecation than anything else. As if he'd upset the social balance on purpose. ]
Are you scared of my deep love of booze? [ he decides to joke back, a touch softer than his earlier words. ] I know it's intense, but it's nothing to be scared of. I just like a good time.
Spoken like someone who's been to a handful of those before. [ She counts herself in that description, though, even if most of the pity parties she's attended in her lifetime have only had a guest list of one.
But as she's finding, something like this? It's slightly better than being alone. She follows suit in polishing off the rest of her drink, holding out her glass so he can refill it once he's done with his own. ]
Terrified. [ She attempts to flash a smile, but it ends up more crooked, more slanted, and she clears her throat before taking another sip of booze. ]
We don't have to invite pity. We can just tell it to beat it at the door.
[ Easier said than done, but still, Cash imagines that they can find all kinds of things to talk about that don't fringe on pity. They're already dragged down enough as it is. He has another gulp from his glass, trying to imagine what this particular booze was made out of. Something unpleasant, he has to imagine. ]
I do miss actual bars, [ he admits. ] Not that the bar we have is bad, but the idea of being able to order whatever you want sounds pretty great.
[ She chuckles dryly, fingers absently tapping against the edge of her glass, a light tinkling sound, and stares toward the contents like she's contemplating them even though she's looking at a completely distant point. ]
Right? [ The groan from her is immediately sympathizing and she leans into him, nudging her shoulder against his before swaying back again. ] Remember bar apps? Onion rings and fries and loaded nachos with all the fixings?
And it has to real bad to miss bar food, but yeah, I do.
[ Just sitting there and smelling it in the air, the salt and the fat it fried in, while it passes by on somebody's tray. Cash smiles, sipping from his glass before he goes on. ]
Maybe I just miss fried food. It's hard to justify the resources for it here, considering all the steps. But that was my favorite part of going to the State Fair, all the terrible and delicious food choices.
Hey, I'm not saying any of it is actually any good. Sometimes a girl just wants fatty fatty goodness. Or delicious carbs.
[ She's never had the best habits in terms of food choices, which seems almost antithetical given the way she can fit herself into a pair of skinny jeans, but killing demons apparently helps you burn calories. Who knew? ]
Yeah, I don't really like to think about what they had to melt down to get what comes out of the food dispensers.
[ She scrunches up her nose, takes another contemplative sip of her liquor. Mostly just plants, if she had to guess, which would make her vegan sister happy if Waves was here, but not so much Wynonna, who prefers her burgers fat and juicy. ]
I've been advised not to look in the machines — or I might not want to eat from them — and I'm going to take that advice.
[ He has a strong stomach, but still. If they break down, they're someone else's problem. Cash drains the last of his glass in one go. At least alcohol is... uncomplicated. It's not good for you, and that's an agreed-on thing. No one drinks alcohol for healthful properties. ]
Shudder to think what this place would turn into if we didn't have buckets of booze from the last planet. A lot of frustrated folks ready to boil over, I'm guessing.
Oh, ew. [ Chalk that up on the list of ship secrets she's already assembling, things she didn't need to know and definitely won't go looking into any time soon. Then again, she's not mechanically inclined enough to even want to dig around in the inner workings of the dispensers, and if something goes haywire, at least there's someone on this ship who could attempt to fix it.
She'll be over here, staying far away from it, possibly even drinking booze. Something uncomplicated that she doesn't usually have to get from a machine. ]
Tell me about it. Don't jinx us, though. [ She peers up to him, wry smile tugging up one corner of her mouth. ] And maybe pour me some more while you're at it. I'm nowhere near buzzed enough to start thinking in hypotheticals.
You want to think about hypotheticals when you're buzzed?
[ Cash smiles and raises the bottle, all too happy to pour more into her glass. And his own. He pours himself a double of hers, in fact, just to make sure that she's not going to fully leave him behind. He won't get drunk from this much alcohol, but pleasantly stupefied? Probably. ]
I'm impressed. All I want to think about is really nice food or company.
Okay, touche. Maybe I don't want to think about anything when I'm buzzed. Just...
[ She holds her glass out enough that there's a clink when he tips the bottle against it, filling her up again, and she won't necessarily point out the fact that he's given himself a more generous pour than she is because she doesn't know the reason for it. Maybe he wants to get to a certain point faster. ]
Yeah, this'll work. [ It helps, ultimately, not to be alone. When she's by herself, her mind wanders too much, more than she'd prefer, and since she doesn't know what she'll see when she closes her eyes, sleep is out of the question too. ] 'Cept the food talk really is gonna make me hungry.
[ He chuckles, smile shifting apologetically. This is normally where he'd volunteer the name of a local spot with good food and maybe he and his companion would go there for a bit. On a more normal day, several years prior. But now he's on a spaceship, and all he can offer is extra food from the machines. Pass. ]
I don't get drunk that often. My magic— [ Cash sighs. ] It works in the background, keeps me in optimum health. Or it tries. So when I drink a lot of alcohol, it thinks I'm being poisoned and starts purging the poison. I have to drink at least a handle to feel anything major.
[ Her smile is almost more commiserating, in a sense; it's not like she really has anything to recommend at home save for Shorty's, and they're not exactly known for their bar apps either. Maybe it's more the atmosphere she misses, maneuvering around a crowded bar, trying to find an empty table, hustling people at pool. ]
Wow. That sucks. [ She chuckles, not envious in the slightest, but then also wonders what it's like to have essentially a blood purifier in your system. ]
So does that mean you can't ever get sick? No colds? No flu, nothing?
I haven't had an illness since before my magic manifested, when I was... eleven, twelve, something like that. [ He used to remember the number. Now, it's a bad memory. Ill tidings; the start of his life going downhill. ] No illnesses, m' tired less often, cuts and bruises and injuries heal up immediately. It's not all bad.
That's got to come in handy, though. [ She considers his words for a second, glancing out ahead of them to a distant point, her gaze unfixed as she weighs over whether to say this next part. Then again, he's never shown anything but willingness to be honest with her on his end, so she almost feels like this is something she owes him — more truth, ultimately, about herself. ]
It's... harder, for me, to get hurt. Has been ever since I became the Earp heir. It's like this curse, whatever it is, makes me faster, stronger. Even when I take a hit, it's easier for me to heal from it quickly. To bounce back.
[ That isn't to say she can't get sick or injured, period, but it makes her tougher than most. ] Pretty sure I haven't had a scar since I fell climbing a rusty tractor back on the homestead and busted up my knee. It's still there, actually.
[ He chuckles quietly. There's a softness in his gaze from the way she admits this truth about herself. Imparted truths, from tired people. Cash doesn't often give people the particulars about his magic, out of a sense of paranoia that they'll take advantage of it. Plenty of people have, so maybe it's not even paranoia.
But he trusts Wynonna. ]
I guess if you're going to go up against demons, you need all the help you can get, right?
[ Seems cruel to give someone that kind of mission and no other support. ]
Something like that. I guess whatever demon laid the curse down hundreds of years ago thought they'd give us a magical booster shot to try and make the whole thing a little more even.
[ There's a scoff from her, but it doesn't really have any bite to it — partly because she's so tired, beyond the point of exhaustion that she's kind of running on fumes, but the other part is that she's just accepted what she has, who she is now.
She glances down at the glass in her hand, idly using her hand to swirl its contents around, and then takes another sip from it. ]
Sometimes I think about what's happening back home. You know, without me. Do they even know I'm gone? Stranded in space with a shitty excuse for whiskey?
[ Cash makes a vague noise in the back of his throat, thoughtful. ]
I've heard... varying things, from folks who've had others show up here. But I don't think anyone knew the other was gone.
[ He doesn't like the opposite thought, either. The thought of his team back home, waiting for him. So he's glad that they probably aren't. Cash makes them wait enough, they don't need to wait for his cosmic vacation, too. ]
It might be like void traveling, back home. Void travelers can spend as much time as they want in another universe, with only a few limits, but they return back to our Earth in the same moment they left. [ Cash shrugs. ] Stands to reason, anyway.
I can't decide if that makes me feel better or worse.
[ Now she's being honest about it, even for her, and the thing is, she can't even tell if it's the whiskey making her loose-lipped or just the fact that she feels like she can say this kind of shit in his company, that she doesn't have to worry about him hearing her and judging her for it. ]
Y'know? Like... at least maybe, time goes differently here and back home they'll never even know I left. But then at the same time, what does that mean when I go back? Am I going to remember everything that happened, or is it just going to be like... poof, gone. [ There are some parts of this ship she wouldn't want to take back with her, but then again, maybe she doesn't want to forget everything either — and that's a separate kind of miserable to think about, as she stares down at the glass in her hand again. ]
[ Downing the rest of his drink gives him a small amount of time to consider his answer. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't worried about not remembering anyone from this, when all's said and done. The longer he spends here, the more he grows attached to people. To forget his friends... ]
Dunno, [ Cash has to admit. Quiet. ] But I hope it's not that last one. Be sad to forget spending so much time here.
[ He's learned a few lessons along the way, too, even if they weren't lessons he particularly wanted. ]
[ There might have been a time where she would have been quick to feign nonchalance, pretend that she would be just fine to go back to her — well, admittedly not-great life sometimes and forget that any of this ever happened to her. At least, that's what the old Wynonna would have done, the one that didn't know any of these people and therefore wouldn't have any reasons to give a shit about them.
That's not where she is now, not anymore. ]
Had some good times already, huh?
[ That prompts a smile from her, more of a half-one, the corner of her mouth edging up crookedly before she looks over in his direction. ]
[ Quirking a smile at her, Cash reaches out to casually tuck a lock of Wynonna's hair behind her closest ear. ]
Why can't it be both?
[ It's the former, not the latter, that he'd be sad to forget, but injecting some sort of humor into the moment just seems like a good idea. No need to let the mood tank entirely. He keeps the same flippant, easy tone as he goes on, even though the fondness of his gaze doesn't match it as he looks at her. ]
Be a shame to forget, uh, having my leg partially eaten by slime. Or swimming on that incredible beach. Or... getting clean in a certain hot spring with a beautiful lady.
[ She feels like she's already floating underwater a little because of the exhaustion and now the booze on top of it, but she thinks she stills when he reaches for her, the sensation of his fingers gently guiding that hair back feeling better than it should have any right to. ]
Oh, that's true. Duh.
[ She tries to scoff, but it doesn't really have any real bite to it, not when he's looking at her like that, not when she can't tear her eyes away from him now either. ]
I can't decide if it's better or worse that you just listed me after the flesh-eating slime. [ She's definitely messing with him, the crookedness of her grin prompting both dimples to emerge, but she hasn't glanced away. ]
[ A chuckle, thick with the emotion in his gaze, spills out of him. Cash makes no move to stop his hand, continuing the gesture until he's stroking his fingers through the back of Wynonna's hair. ]
What can I say, getting part of your leg eaten is pretty memorable.
[ The gentle ribbing from her sets a part of him at peace that he doesn't really want to examine. He just goes with the flow, as he always does, hand trailing down her back. ]
I'm just thankful that things usually aren't that exciting around here.
[ She's not surprised it feels good, when he touches her; it always has, his hands warm and soothing no matter where he puts them. What takes her aback more is the comfort she finds in that touch, her expression softening while she doesn't have the will or the energy to turn her gaze away from his face. ]
Now that you mention it, this part feels a little normal, huh?
[ Drinking, talking, posing questions she doesn't necessarily need an answer to at whatever late hour it happens to be now. It's always harder to tell out in space, anyway.
She's shifted in towards him without fully realizing it until she's there, his hand against her back prompting her to unconsciously be guided, and her eyes search his before she leans in to press a soft kiss to his mouth, her nose sliding against his when she withdraws to whisper. ]
[ As she angles in, Cash unconsciously turns his head and shoulder to match her, smiling against her lips. It does feel normal — he'd be lying if he said that he hadn't gotten used to talking to Wynonna, to comparing problems and seeking solace in her company. He nuzzles the tips of their noses together for a slow, warm moment, leaning his head in to dust her lips with a kiss before he withdraws the same amount she had. ]
'Course.
[ His voice, already starting low, is barely more than a husky murmur. ]
That's fair, but those also tend to be terrible pictures, which doesn't help their case any. I think most people have to be in a particular mood to want to see a picture that's just zoomed in right over the crotch.
I was thinking more about a view from the other side. It's not too bad either, I'd say.
I'd definitely call that a pro tip. I do try. To be honest I don't really send these anymore. Not on purpose. Can't say that it bothers me if you're enjoying it though.
I might be, whatever your definition of 'ass shot' is. Kind of busy at the moment though, so it might have to wait.
[ She's already gotten a glimpse of what he's up to right now. ]
hey no shame in trying to get out of the sexting game but you should know if you ever decide to get back in you could probably make a killing and by that i mean everyone who would keel over at getting a shot like that
[ reading back on what he'd said, it occurs to her that he's asking for something from her instead, but she needs to establish something else important here. ]
[ Any expectation of reciprocation is all teasing, he's genuinely fine with just showing off, but obviously he won't complain if she decided to participate somehow. ]
It would be awkward to stop in the middle of this, so yeah.
[ she doesn't reply via text right away, but she does sort of slump back against her pillow and push out a soft breath through pursed lips, murmur a wow to herself.
technically, this isn't the craziest thing she's ever done, though. ]
yeah maybe you should show me what you're up to then
[ He really wouldn't usually do this. There might even be a case to be argued that he's letting some impulses fly that he wouldn't have otherwise just because it's a harmless enough outlet that he desperately needs right now. He's getting off, someone else is having fun, and for a few minutes at least he's not thinking about all of the responsibilities he's got to get back to, let alone the ones he's taking on here. ]
Well in that case.
[ There's no jostling necessary to flip it over to video, it's just a convenient shift in intention to change the feed from text over to video, this time a constant connection rather than a clip out of context. Not much has changed in that image though, mostly just the fact that his pace has sped up a bit from the slow strokes she saw before.
He's not asking for reciprocation, but he will shoot a lazy, satisfied sort of grin across the line as he rubs his thumb over the tip of his cock. ]
I'm not used to having an audience.
[ Not for this anyway, but he's clearly not uncomfortable at being the center of attention either. ]
[ him switching it to video means that for the most part, she sees what he sees, whatever he wants to direct his attention towards, and that means that almost as soon as he turns the connection over to that on his end she'll be greeted by the sight of his hand shifting almost below the frame before he tilts his eyes down to show her exactly how he's using it.
at this point, it seems only fair for her to do the same, a quick toggle over using the nanites and she's got her own view recording for him, clearly sitting in bed with her knees drawn up slightly to reveal that she's currently not wearing anything in the way of pants. for the moment, however, her hand is very firmly resting on her bare thigh without moving higher. ]
Does it feel weird? [ she murmurs it, low enough that it almost feels like she's sitting next to him, but also quieter because she's clearly enjoying what he's showing her. ] Like having someone else in your head, kind of.
[ He definitely appreciates the view, whether or not she's going as far with it as he is. He's straightforward with these things, if showing her was conditional on her participation he would have said so, but that doesn't mean he won't feel a new flush of heat at the idea of those fingers sliding between her legs, as if he needed more encouragement to keep going with his own stroking.
It takes him a couple of seconds to realize she's talking about the method of communication, mostly because he's understandably very distracted at the moment. When he does he makes a low noise that's meant to be thoughtful, but it ends up sounding almost like a quiet moan as he grips his cock tighter, encouraging the spill of more glistening drops of precome. ]
Kind of. It's not too different from what I'm used to looking at.
[ It hadn't occurred to him that he could change the perspective on it, so that it's more up close and personal than what amounts to a very detailed, impossibly vivid holo projection that only he can see. But that might be because that's what he expected it to look like, since it's all driven by his own mind. ]
But I'm not used to controlling it with my thoughts. [ He continues, almost casually, but the tone of his voice is still too low and rough to hide how aroused he is right now. ] That's new.
[ Weird, but kind of fascinating and definitely useful. ]
[ the thought is tempting, really tempting, though ironically enough, it's not like her libido — which can sometimes be pretty raging — hasn't gone unsatisfied here. surprising, that she's managed to find herself on a ship in the middle of space that only seems to bring in really attractive people, many of which she's gotten to know way more up close and personal. is she complaining about it? not in the slightest. ]
So... maybe if you start getting more distracted, it might change around a little bit.
[ she figures he's not so far along now in touching himself that he can't focus on what he's doing with the view she can see, but that might not stay the same depending on whether he starts to get more intentional with it, more driven. and she's tempted even now to join him in it, which means he'll be able to see it when her fingertips start flirting along the waistband of her panties, thumb teasing a lift of the fabric before she lets it gently snap back down against her hip. ]
Maybe if you had something to look at on your end.
[ the direction of her gaze gives him something to look at in terms of how her body is already giving her away a little, the twin points of her nipples visible through her tank top, and her hand skims up to the hem of her shirt instead, tugging it up slightly to reveal the plane of her abdomen. ]
So it feels a little less like having an audience, anyway.
You should be more surprised that we got it in Wales. Most obvious assumption, even if the alcoholic options aboard this vessel are questionable at best. I've seen worse selections.
they are the protectors of the planet or whatever guess that applies to wales too
you've had something worse than what they call booze on this ship? i'm pretty sure the only thing beneath this is non-alcoholic beer which shouldn't even exist
so what you're telling me is that this ship could have WAY better options and instead we're stuck with whatever the dispensers are kicking out or that fruitcohol stuff
[ it's not his real name, but he's gone by jack harkness for far, far longer than he ever went by javic thane. ]
Jack Harkness. Captain Jack Harkness. Call me Jack, and to make a long story short: I'm a time traveler that monitors/controls activity from a rift in space and time.
so lemme guess you look for stuff that happens in the timeline that might have gotten screwed up somehow and fix it? or do you make other people do the dirty work?
[ she feels like she remembers something along these lines from a tv show waverly used to be obsessed with growing up, but she'll be assed if she can remember what it was even called. ]
Sometimes. Other times we're tracking down people and things that came through the rift that shouldn't be here. There's a lot that the human race isn't ready to handle yet, alien technology that could be dangerous if it got into the right hands. Which is why we always handle our own cases. We've had authority that extends beyond the government to handle these threats since the 1800s.
[It’s been well over a week now since she texted him by mistake, and Din is pretty certain that by now she’s figured out that he’s not who she thought he was. He’s not exactly sure why he’s texting her, but he can’t sleep for some reason, and he thought of her. Of how it had been so easy to text back and forth with her, even if it had been for the selfish goal of sexual release. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they don’t know each other and that there’s clearly no jugement between them, and he could definitely use some easy, no pressure conversation tonight. He’s not even looking for something steamy, he just want something to distract his mind, for a while.]
Are you asleep Sweet Girl?
[If she’s mad at him for not coming forth with their case of mistaken identity, he wouldn’t hold it against her, but he still chances a text, in case she’s not that angry with him.]
[ yeah, it definitely hadn't taken her long to figure out that the person she was texting was a) not the person who had her panties, because she'd actually found that red lacy pair in her own room a few hours later and b) someone she'd never even met before, much less spoken to on this ship.
going back over their conversation hadn't produced any new information, and she'd never gotten a name or even as much as a photo — but she'd sent him hers, and... let's just say now she's feeling a little stupid. well, part-stupid and the other part is more complicated than that, because she's pretty sure he hadn't been messing with her either. that everything they'd said to each other hadn't been a prank of some kind.
but she's not asleep when he texts her, even if she stares at the message in her field of vision for a few minutes trying to figure out how to answer it. ]
did you just "u up" me?
[ she's more amused than anything, come to find out. ]
[She's not wrong in her assessment of him: everything Din has written to her that night hadn't been meant as a prank, especially when their texting had turned into something more than just teasing about a pair of not-so lost red panties. In all honesty, he's never done anything like that before, from describing everything he'd like to do to her, to letting her on for that long. While people tend to assume he's not trustworthy because he's a bounty hunter, Din makes a point of being honest with his words, simply choosing not to speak when he can't be truthful.
The longer he waits for her reply, the more he feels guilty for his misleading, but then he gets her text back, and he relaxes slightly under the helmet:]
Yeah, I guess I just did.
Wasn't I supposed to?
[A subtle way to ask for her permission to keep on texting her; an 'out' if she's not interested, an opportunity for her to tell him to fuck himself if she wants to. It's the least he can offer, after all.]
[ really, she should be pissed. that's what she keeps coming back to, but then again, it's not like she has the impression that he did it specifically to make fun of her. maybe he was just as confused at the start, but then it hadn't really turned into that later. she still remembers coming on her fingers hard with his words swimming on the insides of her eyelids, and as far as she can tell, he'd been getting himself off on the other end of the line too.
what drives her a little crazy, though, is not knowing who he is on this ship or what he even looks like. ]
i don't know depends on what you want to talk about this time
[ it's equally subtle, but it's there; she's willing to hear him out, but maybe it's going to steer a different way than the last conversation did. that isn't to say she'd be opposed to more, but these days she hasn't done anything that reckless unless she's been soaked in whiskey too. ]
Anything, really. I can't sleep, and I don't think anyone I know on the ship is still up at this hour.
[Or more like if he texts anyone he knows, they are likely to probe as to why he isn't sleeping. He has nightmares, like everyone else that's lived through war and violence, but lately, he wonders if his empathic bond with Grogu isn't causing the kid's own nightmare to bleed into his. They've been more jumbled and frightening these past weeks.]
I guess I felt like after how we texted last, you wouldn't judge me for reaching out in the middle of the night.
[It's strange how easy it is to admit that, as if her not knowing him and him barely knowing anything of her either makes it easier to be this honest. To be this opened. It's not like she can compare this side of him to how he's usually closed off and quiet.]
i guess i just give off those insomniac vibes, huh?
[ it's not like she can really pretend that she isn't awake now, or that her sleeping habits really aren't even habits but something she either trips and falls into or manages to drink enough to pass out into. knocking herself unconscious isn't really sleeping, technically, but she can pretend. ]
well that depends on what you're reaching out for fashion tips?
[ she feels like she's earned the right to tease him, just a little, but simultaneously, cracking jokes has always been her way of maintaining a distance between herself and someone else. a barrier she tosses up so she doesn't have to worry about getting too close. ]
Will you be offended if I say 'yeah you did? It's not a bad thing, though? I don't think it is, I mean.
[She's absolutely earned the right to tease him, and if Din is honest with himself, it's something he likes in a woman, anyway: the way that one doesn't feel intimidated enough by him not to give him shit, teasingly or not. Her question does make him chuckle lightly, the sound soft in his room:]
I mean, I feel like I wouldn't go wrong asking fashion tips from the owner of red lacy panties, wouldn't you say? But no, I don't think I need fashion tips.
[Not because he thinks he's fashionable, but simply because he wears the exact same thing every day. And what he chooses to wear is more out of utility than fashion.]
To be honest, I don't really have any reasons to reach out other than simple....conversation? [Anything so that his brain doesn't overthink everything in his life right now, really] Like...IDK...tell me about a kind of food I should absolutely try if I ever find myself in your homeworld?
[This is a safe topic, right? Nothing too personal, but nothing too vague either. A good way to truly break the ice.]
you can't see it right now but i'm totally flipping you off ;)
[ hopefully, he can glean the sarcasm, the teasing in that reply, especially since she hasn't ended the conversation and she's really not offended at all that he considers her more of a night owl, because that's not incorrect either. so yeah, maybe she'll keep giving him a little shit just because she feels like she's earned the right after that first conversation, when she'd figured out he wasn't her intended recipient. ]
well if you wanted an honest opinion about whether or not you could pull them off just let me know
[ he is trying, though, and she does notice that, unable to repress a grin as she looks over his words. ]
there's not much purgatory's even known for but if you find yourself in the city at least you have to go with loaded nachos no question the more toppings the better
[He's not sure what 'flipping one off' means exactly, but Din can easily understand that it's meant as a rude gesture. Despite that, he picks up on the teasing, and something in him relaxes further. He can live with getting a bit of shit thrown at him: despite his gruff exterior, he does have a sense of humor.
That next text does make him chuckle lightly:]
Oh, I don't need to be told that or not, I know I can't pull them off. I'm lacking the right curves, definitely.
[He knows he has a flat ass, he's not even going to deny that.
He smiles when she answers, relieved that the initial awkwardness of their first meeting is behind them:]
Nachos. Those are the corn chips with cheese, right?
[He's slowly learning about all these Earthling dishes, thanks to the few friends from different Earths he's made since he's on the Danaë.]
All the toppings? Surely there's one that's your favourite?
too bad that's something i kinda would've liked to see
[ there's a hint in there about the fact that she hasn't seen much of anything, though, at least when it comes to him. all she knows is he's faceless guy, although she has heard his voice a time or two, those moments when he's actually switched to that option over the network and let her hear it.
but she doesn't know about the face attached, has never had the chance to even find out what he looks like, so picturing the image of him in a pair of her panties is especially amusing because she doesn't have a face or bod to go with it. ]
oh good you know them already
[ she's met plenty of people who don't and had to explain it, so she's not above doing it now if she has to, but him already having a sense of what they are cuts some corners for her. ]
honestly? probably the jalapenos i like my nachos with a little kick
oh really? so are you going to keep me waiting or do i get a sneak peek right now?
[ honestly, she'd prefer anything over a dick pic. not that she doesn't enjoy those too every now and then, but... time and place. ]
okay but i'm guessing you haven't had like every pizza topping that's even remotely known to man yet so maybe we need to get you squared away there before we even tackle nachos
Yeah, really. Isn't the whole point of sending a picture to put myself in the best light for you to see? I don't think red lace on a flat ass would achieve that.
And since you're asking so nicely... [He sends her one picture of him. It's nothing too revealing: his hands and thighs are probably what one could call his favourite parts of his body, and giving that they are always covered when he's in public, it's a safe one to send, even if the picture shows hints of his hands' tattoos.]
What toppings people put on their pizza other than basil and cheese?
[He had liked that sort: the flavours were simple yet delicious.]
you'd be surprised what a thong can do for even the flattest asses among us you're damn right i'm so polite you don't even know
[ maybe a part of her is hoping for a face shot by now, but when she gets something else instead it's... not necessarily a bad thing. just surprising. ]
nice ink [ which is her way of saying she thinks it's pretty freaking hot, actually. ]
ever heard that saying if you can dream it you can be it? that's kind of what pizza is like really you could put just about anything on it pepperoni, sausage, peppers some people do pineapple which is very controversial that's a fruit by the way
( something strange is definitely happening on this ship, but harry's never been one to complain about getting laid. so when it happens again, that feeling exploding inside his chest like a molotov cocktail, he practically welcomes it — only this time it's different, disorienting, because this time he finds himself not where he was before.
and considerably more wet than he was before, given he's wound up directly in someone's shower fully clothed and — )
Oh, fuck me.
( right, well. he's never had a cunt before, has he. or tits, for that matter. he might be more shocked at this apparent sex change if he had enough bandwidth to process anything beyond the desire pulsing hard between his legs, his pants damp from more than just the water, or the too-tight fit of his already formfitting shirt, now soaked through, his nipples pushing hard against wet fabric. (besides, he's always wondered what it would be like, he just never thought he'd have the opportunity to find out.) )
Don't mind me, love. ( he still sounds mostly like himself, at least, if not a little softer. ) Why don't I lend you a hand, eh?
( because he knows, one way or another, that's exactly what's going to happen. )
[ Well, at least it wasn't her ending up in a stranger's shower this time — although if Wynonna's being honest, it's almost just as weird to suddenly find her own occupied not only by her own body but someone else's too. The timing either couldn't be better or couldn't be worse, depending on who you talk to, because she may or may not be taking advantage of said shower to try and rub one out quickly, one hand braced against the shower wall as the other shoves fingers into her cunt for slick thrusts that she's only weakly satisfied by — and for whatever reason, she can't quite get there yet, even if she's literally shaking with the latest effects of being surprise-whammied by whatever's going around this ship.
So yeah, maybe when she ends up with unexpected company, it's the worst interruption or could turn out to be exactly what she needs. ]
Well, if you're offering.
[ She mostly intends it as a quippy joke in response to the other woman's declaration, especially since there's nothing comfortable about suddenly ending up in a shower with all your clothes on — and she'd know. Right now, she's trying to pretend she wasn't just doing what she was doing, subtly slipping her hand out from between her thighs and straightening up to turn and face the surprise guest. ]
C'mon, you don't really mean that. [ Beat. ] Wait, do you?
( he's not blind, and he's seen enough women rub one out in his time to know that's exactly what she was doing, even if she now seems a little embarrassed about it. who is he to judge someone getting off in their own shower when most of his own showers involve wanking one to indecent and infuriating thoughts of nathan drake? so, yes, he's offering, and not just because of coiling heat in his chest; if he'd somehow wound up here by any other means under different circumstances, he'd still be offering.
he steps forward when she turns to face him, his mouth upturned, his eyes casting a languid, appraising look over her. he reaches forward, pulling the hand still slick with her own fluid to his lips, his tongue lapping out to clean the taste of her from her fingers. )
Believe me now, darling? ( and then he guides her hand from his mouth to the swell of one of his tits, pressing against it hard in punctuation. a soft noise rises from the back of his throat and he leans in closer, his mouth desperately close to hers now. ) You get me out of these clothes, I'll make it worth your while.
[ It's not like she even has time or opportunity to be embarrassed when this woman is looking at her like that, like she wants to... well, like she wants to devour her, actually, and she's feeling hot and bothered enough already that being stared at with a certain hunger is making her own need pulse hotter inside her, makes Wynonna's breath catch when she reaches out to snare her hand because she doesn't know what's being planned here.
Somehow, having the taste of herself licked and sucked from her own fingers winds up being one of the sexiest fucking things she's ever seen, and before she can even think twice she's letting her hand be guided to that generous curve beneath the fabric of a damp shirt, fingers curling in to squeeze and knead. ]
Deal. [ And then she doesn't resist veering forward to press their mouths together, hot and hard, while both of her hands drop to said shirt's hem; she breaks the kiss for only a second to peel that layer up and out of the way, letting it hit just outside the shower with a wet slap against the floor before her mouth descends over the soft skin of the other woman's throat, nipping and sucking there. ]
( the kiss sears through him, his pulse throbbing hard between his legs. the water has made his jeans all squidgy, but at the moment he isn't exactly loving it; quite the opposite, in fact, considering how badly he needs for her to touch him, to feel her fingers press hard against his clit. he wants to touch her, too, but more importantly he needs out of his oppressive jeans, so his hands make quick work to unzip them while her mouth works at his throat, a low hum of approval escaping his lips.
finally, he pushes them down far enough, his boxers slipping off along with them, bunched up unattractively at his knees, but he can't be bothered to care much about aesthetics at the moment now that he's free enough to guide her hand between his legs, the press of her fingers shooting a thrill up his spine and twisting hot in his belly. a gasp hitches in his throat, one hand shooting up to grab at her hair and pull, the other reaching out to grasp at the soft curve of her ass, fingers digging in for purchase. )
That's it, come on. ( his voice drops, his mouth pressed to the shell of her ear as he whispers: ) Fuck your fingers right into my cunt.
( he doesn't think he could stand it if she doesn't. )
[ There are things she's not going to pay attention to when there's an undeniably gorgeous woman standing here in the shower with her, topless now and apparently needing to be touched — like the fact that there's something a little off about the clothing she's wearing, but it's harder to tell that they don't exactly fit right when the water's plastering them to slighter curves anyway. Wynonna's already got the advantage in being fully naked here, and now it becomes about needing to even the scales, make sure they're both undressed.
She can't tell what sends an utter shot of need directly to her center more — the sensation of a hand seizing a fistful of her hair and yanking hard to make her scalp tingle as she's led in, or that her hand is taken and unceremoniously led to the juncture between soft inner thighs, firmly enough so that her fingertips initially skim across folds soaked in a way that has nothing to do with the shower water coursing down on them both. ]
God, you're so wet. [ She almost marvels at it, low and on a moan, but she's not going to need to be told twice, not when she's held so close and tight, the low rasp of an accent in her ear. She pulls back a little, though, wanting to see, needing to watch the expression on those features shift and change the moment she coaxes two fingers inside the tight grip of that heat, curving and thrusting deep, turning her wrist so she can use her thumb to swipe over the sensitive bud of nerves just above. ] This what you want, huh?
( the water rises in steam above them, not hot enough to burn, but still hot enough that he feels like he's reeling, lightheaded from the rush of sensation between his thighs searing through him — and, bloody hell, it's fucking incredible. it's almost enough just to have her wet her fingers, coating them with his own slickness, but then her fingers slide into him and he can't help the surprised little gasp that escapes his throat, his grip tightening involuntarily against her ass, fingers digging into soft flesh almost hard enough to bruise. the force of it drags her closer as his back hits the wet shower wall, his hips bucking forward into her hand, his head thrown back, teeth dragging hard across his lower lip.
and then her thumb passes over his clit, drawing a surprisingly high-pitched moan from somewhere deep in his chest. he's never been bothered by being vocal and now is no exception, it's just a bit odd to not quite recognize his own voice. still, the feeling of her fingers inside him outweighs most of the weirdness of the situation, the loudest thought in his head being more. )
Fuck — yes. ( which is all he can seem to manage, whiny and needy, before he dives forward again, messily capturing her mouth, his tongue darting out between her lips. )
[ It's something she understands full well, that overwhelming need to just be filled, to be fucked — but it feels like it comes on even harder with this weird energy running through the ship, slamming into them without warning, leaving them desperate and needy and sometimes just taking the situation into their own hands, literally. Wynonna's never seen this other woman before in her life, but then again, an anonymous hookup has never stopped her before, so why would it now?
And there's almost nothing that feels as good as when she slides her fingers in fast and crooks them and earns that sharp gasp from above, prompting a slightly crooked grin from her mouth as she leans in to graze her teeth against the vulnerable arch of that throat once the other woman's chin tips up. ]
You want it harder than that? [ She's panting too, if for no other reason than it feels fucking hot to do this, but the answer doesn't come — at least not in words, anyway, and she meets that kiss head-on, veers into it hungrily, lets their tongues tangle as she curves her wrist and starts to thrust with a steadier, purposeful rhythm, feeling slick against the heel of her hand that's got nothing to do with the shower they're in. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text;
son of a bitch.
he explores on his own for a while, but when it becomes evident he's not learning much about this place on his own, he reluctantly reaches out to the one person he's bothered interacting with thus far: ]
where the hell are we
text;
why he thinks she’d have any firm answer on the subject is beyond her. does that stop her from replying? of course not. ]
fuck if I know
but I guess we need repairs before we’re airborne again
know anything about fixing spaceships?
text;
[ so basically, all this conversation is concluding is that neither of them really know shit. ]
any idea how long that usually takes?
text;
[ really they’re just 0 for 0 here, good job you two. ]
much as I hate to admit it
we might have to do the camping thing for a while
text;
[ who the hell is jeeves?
what the hell are internet references?]great
guess i'll find a tree or some shit to hang out with
send me a message when they're ready to beam us up
[ wait, is that it, frank? ]
text;
so wait
that’s it?
you’re just going to go all man vs wild communing with nature out there?
don’t you think you might need, oh I don’t know
like a shelter of some kind?
[ does the danae even have tents? this is a question she should probably find out the answer to. ]
text;
[ it usually does. ]
should probably be worrying about yourself more than me
best you stick with the rest of them
they'll probably do some kumbaya fire pit shit
be a blast
[ ah, textual sarcasm. ]
text;
don’t know what about me gave you the idea that I’m a team player
also I might’ve had ulterior motives for asking
because I’m shit at building
text;
you want me to build you a house out of twigs or something
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so the big bad wolf can come along and blow it down in one puff?
i was thinking something a little sturdier than that
text;
[ so what if she's not blonde? so what if he has the wrong fairy tale? ]
text;
I’m almost impressed by how spectacularly you biffed that reference
look we’ve been living next door to each other anyway
it’s not that different
text;
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I’ll find you some sticks
how hard could it be?
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construction and sturdiness
what if my twig house falls on me in the middle of the night and crushes me to death
that's on you
text;
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you don't want that on your conscience
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i'll have nightmares about your splinters
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so really when you think about it
you're saving yourself a world of trouble
text;
text;
text;
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do you have a lead on a tent?
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but didn't sound like you'd be interested
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i get it
beggars can't be choosers
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didn't get left behind, right?
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was that you checking?
or hoping?
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be a real pain
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you'd love this ass haunting you
[ which isn't actually what he said, but whatever, she's going to roll with it anyway. ]
still
nice to have real beds again, huh?
text;
[ don't talk about her ass. ]
better than a tent anyway
[ don't talk about the tent. ]
text;
i know where you sleep
[ that... doesn't sound as threatening as she wants it to be, considering, well, everything. ]
warmer for sure
[ also it's not lost on her that she's sending this message from her damn bed. ]
text;
good
won't have to worry about you knocking at my door to steal blankets
text;
and she's not thinking about whether these walls are thin enough for him to hear it. ]
memory serves
you don't keep that many around anyway
text;
been heated enough not to need them
text;
[ and then, before she can talk herself out of not sending it: ]
you're like a damn furnace
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yeah you think so?
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who needs a blanket then?
[ it’s not like she hasn’t thought about the night in the tent since it happened, but... she hasn’t tried to think about it. ]
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so if it ain't blankets are you gonna knock on my door for something else
nope. he backspaces that quicker than he writes it. ]
your cold ass probably
[ that probably isn't any better. ]
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wow
still so concerned about my ass huh?
[ she doesn’t backspace that. ]
text;
wasn't me who brought it to my door step
[ it was more his tent step, but close enough. ]
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[ she remembers a distinct opposite of complaining. ]
text;
[ well. there it is. ]
text;
[ there it is. ]
you kept it pretty busy
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figured i'd keep it preoccupied
think your hips did most of the work
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now you’ve got it
[ where did that come from. ]
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you saying i should use that strategy again?
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[ if there's anyone well-qualified to make the same mistake again, it's this girl. ]
you know where i sleep
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sounds like an invitation
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definitely go with your gut on that
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[ just. food. that's safer. maybe. ]
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you get those food dispensers to serve me up a big
fat
juicy
burger
and you've got yourself a deal
text;
what's the topping preference
hate to get my ass kicked over condiments
text;
standard fare
cheese
gotta be a cheeseburger or no dice
oh and ketchup
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give me a time and i can arrange a delivery
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i don't know about you
but i could eat
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clock's ticking, castle
text | un: maltesefalcon
[ The message comes pretty late into a "night" on the ship, but not the early morning just yet. Still, given everything that's happening, Cash will only send the one message — if she's one of the people who's managing to sleep, he doesn't want to mess that up for her. ]
text;
so question
what would you have done if i wasn't
no subject
no subject
this bunk is lucky to have me
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no subject
lucked out and got a room all to myself
so i still don't know if anyone around here snores
no subject
I don't know either.
But I've been told that I don't.
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says who
[ she's just teasing; she really doesn't need to know the answer to that. ]
but you're not asleep now
something on your mind?
no subject
[ A drama in three parts. ]
What about you?
no subject
although you know what's great?
booze
[ good for what ails ya on so many levels. ]
no subject
[ There's not enough of a supply on the ship for Cash to drink as much as he'd want to, normally. Which means that he's both drinking less and smoking less than he used to. No smoking at all, in fact, because of the lack of cigarettes. It's kind of a bummer for him, but he'd never complain about either. ]
Should we continue this over a drink?
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[ and maybe she... has been storing away some here and there for moments like this one when sleep is either elusive or she actually doesn't want to drift off for fear of what will happen if she closes her eyes. ]
am i coming to you or are you coming to me?
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Nah. Too easy. ]
I was the rude one, texting first. I'll come to you. What should I grab from the bar?
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anything dark that looks like it'll halfway do the trick
don't worry about knocking when you get here
[ now that she's figured out how to set the lock on the door, it should just open right up for him when he shows up. ]
no subject
[ Dark and murky is half the selection under the bar, at least, that isn't the fruitihol from their forest planet stop. Cash grabs a bottle of something that's got a dark amber ring and makes his way to Wynonna's room, poking his head in. ]
Open sesame?
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she's sitting at the foot of her bed when he shows, bracing her hands on the edge of the mattress as she hunches her shoulders forward. ]
Hey, you found me. [ the edge of her mouth twists up into a weak attempt at a smile. ] I mean, it's not a huge ship, so... process of elimination, really.
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He sits down next to her, stretching his long legs out. ]
Oh, it wasn't that hard. I just followed the sound of delightful company.
[ A sigh escapes him. Not commentary on her, but commentary on the situation in general. He nods at her clothes, offering her one of the glasses he'd brought along with the bottle. ]
Did you get a workout in?
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She listens to the sound of her cabin door hissing shut behind him, reaching out for the glass as he sits down beside her, close enough for their shoulders to brush. ]
Something like that. Figures it'd take whatever shit is going on right now to actually make me want to use the gym for once.
[ Most of the time, she is a firm opponent of workouts, although she'll be reluctant to admit that she actually does feel better afterward. ]
no subject
Not that they haven't just passed a bottle back and forth before. ]
Distractions are great.
[ Cash smiles wryly as he clinks their glasses together. He's used the gym, of course, but most of the time he just prefers to jog laps in the oxygen garden or work out in his room. ]
Was anybody asleep in there?
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Mmm. Too much of this, though, and I'll be passing right out on you.
[ So she's going to nurse hers at first, taking a brief sip. The liquor doesn't even really burn going down anymore. ]
You know, I didn't even notice. These last few hours... almost feels like we're all just trying to move underwater.
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I think that the empathy bond means that even people who aren't being directly affected are still getting secondary drunkenness off everyone else's misery.
[ There really should be safeguards against that, he thinks — surely the people who designed the empathy bond wouldn't be that short-sighted.
He sips. ]
I'm trying to keep it to myself, but it's harder to suppress the bond the more tired you are. Apparently.
no subject
Oh good. So it's basically like one long continuous party.
[ Not that she even fully understands the empathy bond herself, and it hasn't actually stopped her from touching the people she wants to touch; she's just... made every attempt to try and shove her own feelings down where she can. ]
Good thing neither of us have any deep emotions that might get us in trouble here, huh? [ It's a poor attempt at a joke, but now she's starting to realize that the two of them, alone in a room together, might set her up for something she isn't prepared to visit head-on. ]
no subject
Might as well get the pleasant burn down his throat. As he glances up from his glass, the corners of his lips twitch. It's more self-deprecation than anything else. As if he'd upset the social balance on purpose. ]
Are you scared of my deep love of booze? [ he decides to joke back, a touch softer than his earlier words. ] I know it's intense, but it's nothing to be scared of. I just like a good time.
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But as she's finding, something like this? It's slightly better than being alone. She follows suit in polishing off the rest of her drink, holding out her glass so he can refill it once he's done with his own. ]
Terrified. [ She attempts to flash a smile, but it ends up more crooked, more slanted, and she clears her throat before taking another sip of booze. ]
But hey, one more thing we have in common.
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[ Easier said than done, but still, Cash imagines that they can find all kinds of things to talk about that don't fringe on pity. They're already dragged down enough as it is. He has another gulp from his glass, trying to imagine what this particular booze was made out of. Something unpleasant, he has to imagine. ]
I do miss actual bars, [ he admits. ] Not that the bar we have is bad, but the idea of being able to order whatever you want sounds pretty great.
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[ She chuckles dryly, fingers absently tapping against the edge of her glass, a light tinkling sound, and stares toward the contents like she's contemplating them even though she's looking at a completely distant point. ]
Right? [ The groan from her is immediately sympathizing and she leans into him, nudging her shoulder against his before swaying back again. ] Remember bar apps? Onion rings and fries and loaded nachos with all the fixings?
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And it has to real bad to miss bar food, but yeah, I do.
[ Just sitting there and smelling it in the air, the salt and the fat it fried in, while it passes by on somebody's tray. Cash smiles, sipping from his glass before he goes on. ]
Maybe I just miss fried food. It's hard to justify the resources for it here, considering all the steps. But that was my favorite part of going to the State Fair, all the terrible and delicious food choices.
no subject
[ She's never had the best habits in terms of food choices, which seems almost antithetical given the way she can fit herself into a pair of skinny jeans, but killing demons apparently helps you burn calories. Who knew? ]
Yeah, I don't really like to think about what they had to melt down to get what comes out of the food dispensers.
[ She scrunches up her nose, takes another contemplative sip of her liquor. Mostly just plants, if she had to guess, which would make her vegan sister happy if Waves was here, but not so much Wynonna, who prefers her burgers fat and juicy. ]
This stuff's not so bad, though.
no subject
[ He has a strong stomach, but still. If they break down, they're someone else's problem. Cash drains the last of his glass in one go. At least alcohol is... uncomplicated. It's not good for you, and that's an agreed-on thing. No one drinks alcohol for healthful properties. ]
Shudder to think what this place would turn into if we didn't have buckets of booze from the last planet. A lot of frustrated folks ready to boil over, I'm guessing.
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She'll be over here, staying far away from it, possibly even drinking booze. Something uncomplicated that she doesn't usually have to get from a machine. ]
Tell me about it. Don't jinx us, though. [ She peers up to him, wry smile tugging up one corner of her mouth. ] And maybe pour me some more while you're at it. I'm nowhere near buzzed enough to start thinking in hypotheticals.
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[ Cash smiles and raises the bottle, all too happy to pour more into her glass. And his own. He pours himself a double of hers, in fact, just to make sure that she's not going to fully leave him behind. He won't get drunk from this much alcohol, but pleasantly stupefied? Probably. ]
I'm impressed. All I want to think about is really nice food or company.
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[ She holds her glass out enough that there's a clink when he tips the bottle against it, filling her up again, and she won't necessarily point out the fact that he's given himself a more generous pour than she is because she doesn't know the reason for it. Maybe he wants to get to a certain point faster. ]
Yeah, this'll work. [ It helps, ultimately, not to be alone. When she's by herself, her mind wanders too much, more than she'd prefer, and since she doesn't know what she'll see when she closes her eyes, sleep is out of the question too. ] 'Cept the food talk really is gonna make me hungry.
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[ He chuckles, smile shifting apologetically. This is normally where he'd volunteer the name of a local spot with good food and maybe he and his companion would go there for a bit. On a more normal day, several years prior. But now he's on a spaceship, and all he can offer is extra food from the machines. Pass. ]
I don't get drunk that often. My magic— [ Cash sighs. ] It works in the background, keeps me in optimum health. Or it tries. So when I drink a lot of alcohol, it thinks I'm being poisoned and starts purging the poison. I have to drink at least a handle to feel anything major.
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Wow. That sucks. [ She chuckles, not envious in the slightest, but then also wonders what it's like to have essentially a blood purifier in your system. ]
So does that mean you can't ever get sick? No colds? No flu, nothing?
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I haven't had an illness since before my magic manifested, when I was... eleven, twelve, something like that. [ He used to remember the number. Now, it's a bad memory. Ill tidings; the start of his life going downhill. ] No illnesses, m' tired less often, cuts and bruises and injuries heal up immediately. It's not all bad.
[ But it has painted a target on his back. ]
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It's... harder, for me, to get hurt. Has been ever since I became the Earp heir. It's like this curse, whatever it is, makes me faster, stronger. Even when I take a hit, it's easier for me to heal from it quickly. To bounce back.
[ That isn't to say she can't get sick or injured, period, but it makes her tougher than most. ] Pretty sure I haven't had a scar since I fell climbing a rusty tractor back on the homestead and busted up my knee. It's still there, actually.
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But he trusts Wynonna. ]
I guess if you're going to go up against demons, you need all the help you can get, right?
[ Seems cruel to give someone that kind of mission and no other support. ]
Sounds like a very good thing.
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[ There's a scoff from her, but it doesn't really have any bite to it — partly because she's so tired, beyond the point of exhaustion that she's kind of running on fumes, but the other part is that she's just accepted what she has, who she is now.
She glances down at the glass in her hand, idly using her hand to swirl its contents around, and then takes another sip from it. ]
Sometimes I think about what's happening back home. You know, without me. Do they even know I'm gone? Stranded in space with a shitty excuse for whiskey?
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I've heard... varying things, from folks who've had others show up here. But I don't think anyone knew the other was gone.
[ He doesn't like the opposite thought, either. The thought of his team back home, waiting for him. So he's glad that they probably aren't. Cash makes them wait enough, they don't need to wait for his cosmic vacation, too. ]
It might be like void traveling, back home. Void travelers can spend as much time as they want in another universe, with only a few limits, but they return back to our Earth in the same moment they left. [ Cash shrugs. ] Stands to reason, anyway.
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[ Now she's being honest about it, even for her, and the thing is, she can't even tell if it's the whiskey making her loose-lipped or just the fact that she feels like she can say this kind of shit in his company, that she doesn't have to worry about him hearing her and judging her for it. ]
Y'know? Like... at least maybe, time goes differently here and back home they'll never even know I left. But then at the same time, what does that mean when I go back? Am I going to remember everything that happened, or is it just going to be like... poof, gone. [ There are some parts of this ship she wouldn't want to take back with her, but then again, maybe she doesn't want to forget everything either — and that's a separate kind of miserable to think about, as she stares down at the glass in her hand again. ]
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Dunno, [ Cash has to admit. Quiet. ] But I hope it's not that last one. Be sad to forget spending so much time here.
[ He's learned a few lessons along the way, too, even if they weren't lessons he particularly wanted. ]
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That's not where she is now, not anymore. ]
Had some good times already, huh?
[ That prompts a smile from her, more of a half-one, the corner of her mouth edging up crookedly before she looks over in his direction. ]
Or is it secretly just all the hot people?
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Why can't it be both?
[ It's the former, not the latter, that he'd be sad to forget, but injecting some sort of humor into the moment just seems like a good idea. No need to let the mood tank entirely. He keeps the same flippant, easy tone as he goes on, even though the fondness of his gaze doesn't match it as he looks at her. ]
Be a shame to forget, uh, having my leg partially eaten by slime. Or swimming on that incredible beach. Or... getting clean in a certain hot spring with a beautiful lady.
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Oh, that's true. Duh.
[ She tries to scoff, but it doesn't really have any real bite to it, not when he's looking at her like that, not when she can't tear her eyes away from him now either. ]
I can't decide if it's better or worse that you just listed me after the flesh-eating slime. [ She's definitely messing with him, the crookedness of her grin prompting both dimples to emerge, but she hasn't glanced away. ]
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What can I say, getting part of your leg eaten is pretty memorable.
[ The gentle ribbing from her sets a part of him at peace that he doesn't really want to examine. He just goes with the flow, as he always does, hand trailing down her back. ]
I'm just thankful that things usually aren't that exciting around here.
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[ She's not surprised it feels good, when he touches her; it always has, his hands warm and soothing no matter where he puts them. What takes her aback more is the comfort she finds in that touch, her expression softening while she doesn't have the will or the energy to turn her gaze away from his face. ]
Now that you mention it, this part feels a little normal, huh?
[ Drinking, talking, posing questions she doesn't necessarily need an answer to at whatever late hour it happens to be now. It's always harder to tell out in space, anyway.
She's shifted in towards him without fully realizing it until she's there, his hand against her back prompting her to unconsciously be guided, and her eyes search his before she leans in to press a soft kiss to his mouth, her nose sliding against his when she withdraws to whisper. ]
Stay with me tonight?
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'Course.
[ His voice, already starting low, is barely more than a husky murmur. ]
'll be right here.
more misfires uh oh | un: dameron
text;
is it my birthday or something
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It could be?
If you like what you see.
I didn't mean to put that out on the network but I guess we're sharing today, huh?
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i'm pretty sure it only came to me
not a bad thing to wake up to honestly
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[ Not his preferred method of meeting new people, but it's not like there's anything to be ashamed of here either. ]
I considered just taking a cold shower. I bet you wouldn't mind that view either.
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i mean most girls don't love an unsolicited dick pic but
for some reason i can't bring myself to be too mad about it
[ sure, it does feel like this ship can and has encouraged fraternizing, but this is something else altogether. ]
depends on the shrinkage factor
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I was thinking more about a view from the other side. It's not too bad either, I'd say.
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usually if you can get at least some abs in there
you've already got a leg up on everybody else
are you actually volunteering an ass shot?
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I do try. To be honest I don't really send these anymore. Not on purpose. Can't say that it bothers me if you're enjoying it though.
I might be, whatever your definition of 'ass shot' is.
Kind of busy at the moment though, so it might have to wait.
[ She's already gotten a glimpse of what he's up to right now. ]
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but you should know if you ever decide to get back in you could probably make a killing
and by that i mean everyone who would keel over at getting a shot like that
[ reading back on what he'd said, it occurs to her that he's asking for something from her instead, but she needs to establish something else important here. ]
wait
are you still going?
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It would be awkward to stop in the middle of this, so yeah.
If you want to keep watching, I wouldn't mind.
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technically, this isn't the craziest thing she's ever done, though. ]
yeah
maybe you should show me what you're up to then
text > video
Well in that case.
[ There's no jostling necessary to flip it over to video, it's just a convenient shift in intention to change the feed from text over to video, this time a constant connection rather than a clip out of context. Not much has changed in that image though, mostly just the fact that his pace has sped up a bit from the slow strokes she saw before.
He's not asking for reciprocation, but he will shoot a lazy, satisfied sort of grin across the line as he rubs his thumb over the tip of his cock. ]
I'm not used to having an audience.
[ Not for this anyway, but he's clearly not uncomfortable at being the center of attention either. ]
video;
at this point, it seems only fair for her to do the same, a quick toggle over using the nanites and she's got her own view recording for him, clearly sitting in bed with her knees drawn up slightly to reveal that she's currently not wearing anything in the way of pants. for the moment, however, her hand is very firmly resting on her bare thigh without moving higher. ]
Does it feel weird? [ she murmurs it, low enough that it almost feels like she's sitting next to him, but also quieter because she's clearly enjoying what he's showing her. ] Like having someone else in your head, kind of.
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It takes him a couple of seconds to realize she's talking about the method of communication, mostly because he's understandably very distracted at the moment. When he does he makes a low noise that's meant to be thoughtful, but it ends up sounding almost like a quiet moan as he grips his cock tighter, encouraging the spill of more glistening drops of precome. ]
Kind of. It's not too different from what I'm used to looking at.
[ It hadn't occurred to him that he could change the perspective on it, so that it's more up close and personal than what amounts to a very detailed, impossibly vivid holo projection that only he can see. But that might be because that's what he expected it to look like, since it's all driven by his own mind. ]
But I'm not used to controlling it with my thoughts. [ He continues, almost casually, but the tone of his voice is still too low and rough to hide how aroused he is right now. ] That's new.
[ Weird, but kind of fascinating and definitely useful. ]
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So... maybe if you start getting more distracted, it might change around a little bit.
[ she figures he's not so far along now in touching himself that he can't focus on what he's doing with the view she can see, but that might not stay the same depending on whether he starts to get more intentional with it, more driven. and she's tempted even now to join him in it, which means he'll be able to see it when her fingertips start flirting along the waistband of her panties, thumb teasing a lift of the fabric before she lets it gently snap back down against her hip. ]
Maybe if you had something to look at on your end.
[ the direction of her gaze gives him something to look at in terms of how her body is already giving her away a little, the twin points of her nipples visible through her tank top, and her hand skims up to the hem of her shirt instead, tugging it up slightly to reveal the plane of her abdomen. ]
So it feels a little less like having an audience, anyway.
misfire! | un: harkness
text;
i am not prepared to deal with an explosion tonight
not when my head already feels like someone's tap dancing on it
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Hangover?
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kudos on the surprisingly appropriate 90s reference
gee how'd you guess?
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Most obvious assumption, even if the alcoholic options aboard this vessel are questionable at best.
I've seen worse selections.
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guess that applies to wales too
you've had something worse than what they call booze on this ship?
i'm pretty sure the only thing beneath this is non-alcoholic beer
which shouldn't even exist
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What fucks up one species does nothing for another.
So yes, I've seen much, much worse.
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and instead we're stuck with whatever the dispensers are kicking out
or that fruitcohol stuff
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when you said you’ve seen worse
this isn’t your first space travel rodeo?
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I'm from the Boeshane Peninsula, long way from Earth.
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harkness?
[ she's assuming by his username that that's his real name, even though hers is definitely not miss bacondonut. ]
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Jack Harkness.
Captain Jack Harkness.
Call me Jack, and to make a long story short: I'm a time traveler that monitors/controls activity from a rift in space and time.
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you look for stuff that happens in the timeline that might have gotten screwed up somehow and fix it?
or do you make other people do the dirty work?
[ she feels like she remembers something along these lines from a tv show waverly used to be obsessed with growing up, but she'll be assed if she can remember what it was even called. ]
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text; @mandalorian
Are you asleep Sweet Girl?
[If she’s mad at him for not coming forth with their case of mistaken identity, he wouldn’t hold it against her, but he still chances a text, in case she’s not that angry with him.]
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going back over their conversation hadn't produced any new information, and she'd never gotten a name or even as much as a photo — but she'd sent him hers, and... let's just say now she's feeling a little stupid. well, part-stupid and the other part is more complicated than that, because she's pretty sure he hadn't been messing with her either. that everything they'd said to each other hadn't been a prank of some kind.
but she's not asleep when he texts her, even if she stares at the message in her field of vision for a few minutes trying to figure out how to answer it. ]
did you just "u up" me?
[ she's more amused than anything, come to find out. ]
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The longer he waits for her reply, the more he feels guilty for his misleading, but then he gets her text back, and he relaxes slightly under the helmet:]
Yeah, I guess I just did.
Wasn't I supposed to?
[A subtle way to ask for her permission to keep on texting her; an 'out' if she's not interested, an opportunity for her to tell him to fuck himself if she wants to. It's the least he can offer, after all.]
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what drives her a little crazy, though, is not knowing who he is on this ship or what he even looks like. ]
i don't know
depends on what you want to talk about this time
[ it's equally subtle, but it's there; she's willing to hear him out, but maybe it's going to steer a different way than the last conversation did. that isn't to say she'd be opposed to more, but these days she hasn't done anything that reckless unless she's been soaked in whiskey too. ]
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[Or more like if he texts anyone he knows, they are likely to probe as to why he isn't sleeping. He has nightmares, like everyone else that's lived through war and violence, but lately, he wonders if his empathic bond with Grogu isn't causing the kid's own nightmare to bleed into his. They've been more jumbled and frightening these past weeks.]
I guess I felt like after how we texted last, you wouldn't judge me for reaching out in the middle of the night.
[It's strange how easy it is to admit that, as if her not knowing him and him barely knowing anything of her either makes it easier to be this honest. To be this opened. It's not like she can compare this side of him to how he's usually closed off and quiet.]
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[ it's not like she can really pretend that she isn't awake now, or that her sleeping habits really aren't even habits but something she either trips and falls into or manages to drink enough to pass out into. knocking herself unconscious isn't really sleeping, technically, but she can pretend. ]
well that depends on what you're reaching out for
fashion tips?
[ she feels like she's earned the right to tease him, just a little, but simultaneously, cracking jokes has always been her way of maintaining a distance between herself and someone else. a barrier she tosses up so she doesn't have to worry about getting too close. ]
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[She's absolutely earned the right to tease him, and if Din is honest with himself, it's something he likes in a woman, anyway: the way that one doesn't feel intimidated enough by him not to give him shit, teasingly or not. Her question does make him chuckle lightly, the sound soft in his room:]
I mean, I feel like I wouldn't go wrong asking fashion tips from the owner of red lacy panties, wouldn't you say? But no, I don't think I need fashion tips.
[Not because he thinks he's fashionable, but simply because he wears the exact same thing every day. And what he chooses to wear is more out of utility than fashion.]
To be honest, I don't really have any reasons to reach out other than simple....conversation? [Anything so that his brain doesn't overthink everything in his life right now, really] Like...IDK...tell me about a kind of food I should absolutely try if I ever find myself in your homeworld?
[This is a safe topic, right? Nothing too personal, but nothing too vague either. A good way to truly break the ice.]
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[ hopefully, he can glean the sarcasm, the teasing in that reply, especially since she hasn't ended the conversation and she's really not offended at all that he considers her more of a night owl, because that's not incorrect either. so yeah, maybe she'll keep giving him a little shit just because she feels like she's earned the right after that first conversation, when she'd figured out he wasn't her intended recipient. ]
well if you wanted an honest opinion about whether or not you could pull them off
just let me know
[ he is trying, though, and she does notice that, unable to repress a grin as she looks over his words. ]
there's not much purgatory's even known for
but if you find yourself in the city at least
you have to go with loaded nachos
no question
the more toppings the better
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[He's not sure what 'flipping one off' means exactly, but Din can easily understand that it's meant as a rude gesture. Despite that, he picks up on the teasing, and something in him relaxes further. He can live with getting a bit of shit thrown at him: despite his gruff exterior, he does have a sense of humor.
That next text does make him chuckle lightly:]
Oh, I don't need to be told that or not, I know I can't pull them off. I'm lacking the right curves, definitely.
[He knows he has a flat ass, he's not even going to deny that.
He smiles when she answers, relieved that the initial awkwardness of their first meeting is behind them:]
Nachos. Those are the corn chips with cheese, right?
[He's slowly learning about all these Earthling dishes, thanks to the few friends from different Earths he's made since he's on the Danaë.]
All the toppings? Surely there's one that's your favourite?
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that's something i kinda would've liked to see
[ there's a hint in there about the fact that she hasn't seen much of anything, though, at least when it comes to him. all she knows is he's faceless guy, although she has heard his voice a time or two, those moments when he's actually switched to that option over the network and let her hear it.
but she doesn't know about the face attached, has never had the chance to even find out what he looks like, so picturing the image of him in a pair of her panties is especially amusing because she doesn't have a face or bod to go with it. ]
oh good
you know them already
[ she's met plenty of people who don't and had to explain it, so she's not above doing it now if she has to, but him already having a sense of what they are cuts some corners for her. ]
honestly?
probably the jalapenos
i like my nachos with a little kick
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Honestly, there are better images of me for you to see that I can think of.
[No, he's not sending a dick pic. He has more class than this. But he's not unwilling to share...something, if she's interested.]
I do know of them, but I haven't had the chance to try them yet. I barely just discovered pizza.
'Kick' as in 'spicy'? In that case, I'm even more tempted to try them. I like spicy meals.
[After all, traditional Mandalorian cuisine can easily be described as a constant fire in one's mouth.]
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so are you going to keep me waiting or do i get a sneak peek right now?
[ honestly, she'd prefer anything over a dick pic. not that she doesn't enjoy those too every now and then, but... time and place. ]
okay but i'm guessing you haven't had like every pizza topping that's even remotely known to man yet
so maybe we need to get you squared away there before we even tackle nachos
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And since you're asking so nicely... [He sends her one picture of him. It's nothing too revealing: his hands and thighs are probably what one could call his favourite parts of his body, and giving that they are always covered when he's in public, it's a safe one to send, even if the picture shows hints of his hands' tattoos.]
What toppings people put on their pizza other than basil and cheese?
[He had liked that sort: the flavours were simple yet delicious.]
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you're damn right
i'm so polite you don't even know
[ maybe a part of her is hoping for a face shot by now, but when she gets something else instead it's... not necessarily a bad thing. just surprising. ]
nice ink [ which is her way of saying she thinks it's pretty freaking hot, actually. ]
ever heard that saying
if you can dream it you can be it?
that's kind of what pizza is like
really you could put just about anything on it
pepperoni, sausage, peppers
some people do pineapple which is very controversial
that's a fruit by the way
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[Tactical pants and boxer briefs are the way to go for him. Or commando, on laundry day. Both here and on the Razor Crest.]
Oh, so you do always say "yes, please" and "thank you, sir"?
[He's teasing, but it's hard not to, given the usual tone of their texting.]
Thanks. They're traditional to my people.
[Another clue for Wynonna to add to the few crumbs he's left her regarding who he really is.]
Really? Anything can go on pizza? So I could put nachos on it and kill two porgs with one stone?
[Hey, he's a practical kind of man.]
What's so controversial about mixing sweet and savory?
𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 » aphro mini event 🥵💦
and considerably more wet than he was before, given he's wound up directly in someone's shower fully clothed and — )
Oh, fuck me.
( right, well. he's never had a cunt before, has he. or tits, for that matter. he might be more shocked at this apparent sex change if he had enough bandwidth to process anything beyond the desire pulsing hard between his legs, his pants damp from more than just the water, or the too-tight fit of his already formfitting shirt, now soaked through, his nipples pushing hard against wet fabric. (besides, he's always wondered what it would be like, he just never thought he'd have the opportunity to find out.) )
Don't mind me, love. ( he still sounds mostly like himself, at least, if not a little softer. ) Why don't I lend you a hand, eh?
( because he knows, one way or another, that's exactly what's going to happen. )
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So yeah, maybe when she ends up with unexpected company, it's the worst interruption or could turn out to be exactly what she needs. ]
Well, if you're offering.
[ She mostly intends it as a quippy joke in response to the other woman's declaration, especially since there's nothing comfortable about suddenly ending up in a shower with all your clothes on — and she'd know. Right now, she's trying to pretend she wasn't just doing what she was doing, subtly slipping her hand out from between her thighs and straightening up to turn and face the surprise guest. ]
C'mon, you don't really mean that. [ Beat. ] Wait, do you?
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he steps forward when she turns to face him, his mouth upturned, his eyes casting a languid, appraising look over her. he reaches forward, pulling the hand still slick with her own fluid to his lips, his tongue lapping out to clean the taste of her from her fingers. )
Believe me now, darling? ( and then he guides her hand from his mouth to the swell of one of his tits, pressing against it hard in punctuation. a soft noise rises from the back of his throat and he leans in closer, his mouth desperately close to hers now. ) You get me out of these clothes, I'll make it worth your while.
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Somehow, having the taste of herself licked and sucked from her own fingers winds up being one of the sexiest fucking things she's ever seen, and before she can even think twice she's letting her hand be guided to that generous curve beneath the fabric of a damp shirt, fingers curling in to squeeze and knead. ]
Deal. [ And then she doesn't resist veering forward to press their mouths together, hot and hard, while both of her hands drop to said shirt's hem; she breaks the kiss for only a second to peel that layer up and out of the way, letting it hit just outside the shower with a wet slap against the floor before her mouth descends over the soft skin of the other woman's throat, nipping and sucking there. ]
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finally, he pushes them down far enough, his boxers slipping off along with them, bunched up unattractively at his knees, but he can't be bothered to care much about aesthetics at the moment now that he's free enough to guide her hand between his legs, the press of her fingers shooting a thrill up his spine and twisting hot in his belly. a gasp hitches in his throat, one hand shooting up to grab at her hair and pull, the other reaching out to grasp at the soft curve of her ass, fingers digging in for purchase. )
That's it, come on. ( his voice drops, his mouth pressed to the shell of her ear as he whispers: ) Fuck your fingers right into my cunt.
( he doesn't think he could stand it if she doesn't. )
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She can't tell what sends an utter shot of need directly to her center more — the sensation of a hand seizing a fistful of her hair and yanking hard to make her scalp tingle as she's led in, or that her hand is taken and unceremoniously led to the juncture between soft inner thighs, firmly enough so that her fingertips initially skim across folds soaked in a way that has nothing to do with the shower water coursing down on them both. ]
God, you're so wet. [ She almost marvels at it, low and on a moan, but she's not going to need to be told twice, not when she's held so close and tight, the low rasp of an accent in her ear. She pulls back a little, though, wanting to see, needing to watch the expression on those features shift and change the moment she coaxes two fingers inside the tight grip of that heat, curving and thrusting deep, turning her wrist so she can use her thumb to swipe over the sensitive bud of nerves just above. ] This what you want, huh?
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and then her thumb passes over his clit, drawing a surprisingly high-pitched moan from somewhere deep in his chest. he's never been bothered by being vocal and now is no exception, it's just a bit odd to not quite recognize his own voice. still, the feeling of her fingers inside him outweighs most of the weirdness of the situation, the loudest thought in his head being more. )
Fuck — yes. ( which is all he can seem to manage, whiny and needy, before he dives forward again, messily capturing her mouth, his tongue darting out between her lips. )
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And there's almost nothing that feels as good as when she slides her fingers in fast and crooks them and earns that sharp gasp from above, prompting a slightly crooked grin from her mouth as she leans in to graze her teeth against the vulnerable arch of that throat once the other woman's chin tips up. ]
You want it harder than that? [ She's panting too, if for no other reason than it feels fucking hot to do this, but the answer doesn't come — at least not in words, anyway, and she meets that kiss head-on, veers into it hungrily, lets their tongues tangle as she curves her wrist and starts to thrust with a steadier, purposeful rhythm, feeling slick against the heel of her hand that's got nothing to do with the shower they're in. ]