come_sailaway | [Semi-Open] DYWTYLM

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[Semi-Open] DYWTYLM

Who: Wayne and CR
What: Trying to cope with the changes around here
When: Any time after leaving The Tube Room
Where: Throughout the ship
Warnings: Depression and existential ennui

Do you duck into deep blue safety? (All CR)
Wayne practically lives up on Deck Six, where he can get a decent amount of sun, soak in the hot tubs, or go and hide out down in the bottom of the pool when it doesn't seem as if anyone would notice or worry about him with everything else that's been happening in the aftermath. He keeps to where he can have an eye out on others coming and going when he's not down underwater. Which he is fairly often, likely to the chagrin of a few that know that he does this sometimes, regardless of whether or not they know he doesn't actually need to breathe. Nowadays at least he's got a relatively simple lifeline: A water-tight bag for his phone. It's not a perfect or permanent solution, but it's better than not having it at all. It means if someone wants to get ahold of him when he's down there, they can.

Someone may also simply spot him down there as they walk by, or do laps. His yellow kind of sticks out against the blue of the pool bottom.

Do you know what it is? (Close CR)
Wayne spends more time away from the rest of the ship now than he had in the months since his arrival. Call it depression, call it self-isolation, either way, the result is the same. He doesn't leave Cabin 144 for days at a time. At least he's clean, if a little bit cluttered, his bed remaining unmade most of the time and his cat figures still sitting on every available surface. There are even a couple of new ones, by now enough that he thinks perhaps he should label them.

For now, he simply exists on his own, sometimes plucking idle tunes without the need for an amplifier, other times simply dissociating in the familiar dimness of the cabin. He won't ignore anyone that comes to check in, but they may notice the light compression patches on his skin where he's leaned his head against the side of the couch or a wall for long periods.

Are you trying to live? (Wildcard)
Wayne looks lost, more often than not these days. He's been given a lot to think about recently, and all of it comes back to the sheer, crushing weight of the anxiety. It may have shifted in form, but it is very much something that he now lives with on a more present level. And now, other people know that it's a problem. Which in and of itself is a problem.

No matter where he ends up, be it the Lounge where he'll generally be curled up with a book from the library, or staring out of a window with the most dead-eyed expression, or at Sand Dollars or Stellar in the morning, Windjammer or Mikabo in the evening, or just up wherever there's a rail that he can sit beside, arms crossed atop it and eyes out on the not-so-infinite water.

It's getting harder to be (myself) (Closed, for Gil)
They needed to talk about things. He knows that. It's hard to think when he's not around the man, and he knows it's because of the attachment that he's long since given up on the idea of it being friendly or platonic. He's nervous, oh yes, but he also realizes that he can't just say that Gil is humoring him or playing along and letting him down as slowly and gently as possible. But he needs to know where they stand in the days following the head chamber, and the hourglass chamber that they'd awoken in. He needs to see him.

can I visit?

A message sent off late in the evening, when most everyone else seemed to be about to turn in. Nevermind that he's leaning against the wall opposite Gil's cabin door, wavering back and forth on whether to just invite himself in. In the end, he opts simply to wait.

I cannot hope to give you what I cannot give myself (Closed, for Crichton)
He'd promised to fix Crichton's shattered nose as soon as he had the material for it. Unfortunately, this had taken a few days thanks to the broken new system of restocking. Maybe not long at all in the grand scheme, but at least a couple of days longer than would have been preferable. But in the end, he's found what he needed: a cupcake, with pink frosting and plain white paper. He's already headed toward where he'd last spotted his friend, and doesn't actually think to take out his phone to warn the man that he's on his way. After all, he's got a cupcake! This is phenomenal news that needs to be delivered in person!

"Commander! Guess what!"

Smile back...at me...oh please... (Closed, for Helena)
He needed to sleep so badly, he had ended up passing out in his cabin before he could actually touch base with Helena again. He'd spent so long out of commission that it wasn't for another couple of days that he messaged her, already feeling guilty over the idea that he'd managed to worry her yet again.

remember when i was talking abt the cats in my cabin
and you talked about a larva

He's looking up at the pretty frosted crystal cat that represents her, now with her name written on its underside in marker.

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"Nah, man, you're like the one person that's never gonna be a bother doing it." Because he's immediately shifting to throw some blanket around Wayne and snuggle into his shoulder. He's definitely still immediately post-nap; he's a furnace.

"What's eating you up?"

Wayne moves to shrug off the leather jacket he'd chosen to wear rather than keeping his jumpsuit on straight, folding it loose in his lap to make room for the lap and let Gil get as close as he wants. There's a pattern on the back that looks very much like his head, though with ripples of color indicating flesh melting off.

"Lots of stuff," he admits with a soft crinkle of his brow. He's thinking about how he wants to phrase things. "Uh. First, there's this-" he holds out the jacket, "even though I know it's not gonna fit the really long arms. It's band merch. We made it ourselves."

Gil's ears prick forward, but his delight is readily available to Wayne because he's also grinning broadly as he takes the jacket to investigate. "Oh, dude, that's sick as. I love it."

Then the 'arms' comment registers and he looks back at Wayne in surprise. "Wait, you're giving it to me?"

The jacket is rather heavy, real leather though the hide wouldn't be readily discernible as any familiar animal, the design stamped into it and colored by a less professional hand.

"If this one doesn't fit, there are a couple of other ones that came in that box," he offers.

"I mean, I'm more concerned with across the shoulders, I can always take the sleeves off." Which honestly is a look, and he likes the idea even more, as he tests the jacket by sitting up so he can throw it around his shoulders.

"...yeah, I think that'd work." He loves it.

Wayne's expression brightens considerably, watching him pull the jacket on straight. It's a great look on him with or without the sleeves.

"Rad, man." The compliment is accompanied by a thumbs up. "Looks great on you. Any of the crew'd say so."

He settles back down again, pulling the other half of the blanket around himself more securely so he can go back to sitting wedged against Gil's side. Moment of truth, he thinks.

"So, the jacket was more of a 'get me in the door' kinda thing. It- uh... I. I'm trying not to just walk up to people uninvited anymore." Nevermind that I'm spite of everything, that was how the two of them had met, his need to try and help overriding common sense. "That's not the point though. Actually I just wanted to be here, and talk about things. If. If that's okay?"

"It's not like there's a lot of ways to talk to people here besides uninvited intrusions, but like. I get your point." If he'd been a bit less abrupt before he wouldn't have met Harvey like that. Probably.

He's just happy to be gently smushed against Wayne, and rests his chin on Wayne's shoulder. "Course it's okay. Whatever's on your mind, man."

Enough bad things had happened whenever he's tried to help without being asked for it that he'd ended up reaching the (rather erroneous) conclusion that doing so was actually a social faux pas that he just kept making. Gil's not wrong, though. Sometimes the only way to start a conversation was to butt in.

The weight of Gil's chin on his shoulder eases some trepidation, and his hands briefly grip down on the folds of his jumpsuit legs as he puts his thoughts in better order. Gil looks at him a little funny sometimes when he just says things bluntly, but it's rarely actually a negative thing. He knows he can trust the man to be straight with him. So he sits back, forcing himself to relax.

"At the risk of revealing that I might be misinterpreting your behavior or intentions, I needed you to know that I care about you, in a romantic context, and it seems like the feeling is mutual. If that's the case, then I would like to figure out what to do with that information, if there's anything to be done at all."

Yeah, that one gets one of those funny looks too. But this one's tempered by the fact Gil is also quite charmed by Wayne's way of going about it, and there's a soft grin immediately forming on his features. And since his face is right here, he'll twist a bit so he can crook a kiss against Wayne's neck.

"I do like you too. Romantically. I'm glad kissing you when you got me out of the tube wasn't too subtle a hint." But his tone is warm and teasing, even when it's flat sarcasm, and he pulls away a bit but only so he can actually face Wayne properly. Since that felt kind of important for The Talk they're apparently having. "I don't think there's anything we need to do, but, like. I guess I'll say I prefer only dating one person at a time?"

Wayne's face scrunches a little at the kiss pressed to his neck, unable to help a quiet laugh at the gesture. He may not be ticklish like some people but that's still a vulnerable spot.

"Look, I only just got to learn about kissing as a whole thing," he argues, obviously pleased. He shifts to face Gil in kind, reaching for his hand to hold. "Honestly, I don't think I have the energy to keep up with multiple relationships like that anyway. I don't know how some people do it."

Gil's grin widens as a short laugh escapes him, and when Wayne takes his hand he squeezes gently in reciprocation. "God, I know, right?"

But he is trying to give the question some more genuine thoughts, and the puff of air that comes out as a soft raspberry is largely just nervous energy.

"But, uh. Shit, I dunno. I'm of the, like. Relationship as Friendship Plus, camp?" Which is a great explanation, huh. "Like. You should at least be friends with someone before you like. Actively commit to kinda prioritising them a bit more, emotionally?"

He pauses briefly. "Did that make sense?"

Wayne perks up some, gesturing vaguely with his free hand in the general direction of the hall outside.

"Is that in any way related to the concept of friends with benefits?" Because he'd learned that from Max, and Max has quickly become an emotional lifeline for him when it comes to things of the romantic and sexual nature, as gently and matter-of-factly as he tends to approach these things, while being less clinical than Watson or Gil have been.

"Either way, you should totally be friends with someone before you get that close anyway. You need to see how you mesh first."

Gil tries really hard not to make a face and largely fails, but it's mostly because he's trying to decide whether to laugh or not. His tongue runs across his teeth briefly, before he just bites the bullet.

"That means sex. The benefit is sex, without having to be in a relationship. Most humans don't have sex with people they're friends with, it makes the being friends messy."

He knows that face. That's the that's some wild shit you've just said to me face. Still, he nods in understanding, though he has to point out, "I still think it's kind of silly that the friendship itself isn't considered the benefit..."

"Humans are a distressingly social species," he returns dryly. "Friendship can as little as meeting someone once and remembering their name the second time. If you don't hate someone you like them, it's kind of a linguistic default."

"You're all weird," is his final thought on the subject. Human, human-adjacent, probably-human, previously-on-this-episode-of-human, human-socialized people are kind of baffling and he's sort of given up by this point. He slouches forward and lets his head fall against Gil's shoulder, just shy of knocking him with a horn. "Thank you for helping me navigate it."

He just beams, and knocks lightly against Wayne's horn since it's already there.

"Yeah. You're doing great, though." His hand comes up to rub Wayne's back, just gentle pressure up and down the length of his spine(?). "So, you know. Thanks for always being really good at communicating when it's annoying you."

His back is gonna feel weird under Gil's hand for sure, the crease between the plates running along it giving way to the raised column of flesh along the thoracic vertebrae. But then again Gil hasn't actually seen that much of him, especially compared to what the goblin fruit had showed him. There just hasn't been a reason for it.

"I'm stuck here for now, and 'just roll with it' has never been my style. Better to face it head-on," he reasons. He pauses, then chuckles quietly. "Same as this, I guess. Run at it and hope for the best."

Gil will definitely have to change that soon, because he can feel his tail twitch with the curiosity about what Wayne looks like under his shirt, and it's not even a horny thing.

But the comment makes him thoughtful for a moment.

"I need to try and do the opposite, I think," he muses. "Actually slow down for a hot second."

It's not like he doesn't know that about himself. But his pride stings at saying it out loud; and the next part, which makes his ears press down a bit.

"I'm sorry, for. Before. About the whole thing with Crichton and Arthur."

His head lifts back up, his expression pensive. He was still inclined to completely avoid Arthur, nervous as the man made him after that shitshow. His hands wrap around Gil's, smooth fingers tracing along ripples of scar tissue.

"I'm sorry we didn't get the chance to actually talk about what happened," he replies quietly. "Just...facing stuff, and swinging at it are two different things. We went in there to talk. Harvey or not, it didn't have to come to that. It scared the hell out of me, man." Gil didn't scare him. The way the situation had so quickly spiraled out of control did. Wayne wasn't good in a fight unless he had help, and in that moment, seeing the people he cared about hurting each other, he felt very, very alone.

He schools himself, squeezing down tighter on the hand that he holds. "I don't know if it's something anyone can help, and what's done is done. But, maybe, if you talk to them one on one, it could help. They're the injured parties here."

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[Semi-Open] DYWTYLM

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