anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue pt 2

He sags against Locus' chest, eyes half lidded and hazy- but murmurs quiet thanks. Another round of...this would be amazing after a drink.

In the crowd York's slipped off for a moment himself. A quick nibble to top off since- well. The hunger's a thing. Another sweet, shy girl, another helpful friend with a suggestive wink, another dark corner. Kissed and bitten and sipped and done in the briefest of moments, friend coming about to check on her shortly afterward. York secures their exit soon enough, flitting to Locus' side near the dark back wall.

The difference is night and day. There's a warmth to his skin, a human sheen to his eyes again. He observes York for a moment as he approaches. "Couldn't help yourself, could you?"

He doesn't sound exactly disapproving. Wry, if anything. He can't very well blame him. This is what it is to sustain themselves, and better he get the practice while he can.

"She was lonely." He shrugs, falling into step with a much more alive looking Locus. There's a warmth to him now, a real weight. A flush to his skin that York almost wants to reach out and touch-

But. Doesn't. Because personal boundaries are a thing. "I figure many smaller spaced out meals is better and safer than one big one."

For all parties involved.

"You're right. But I think that's likely enough for tonight. Too many too close together and people may start taking notice. Even in a large city like this."

His eyes dart towards the exit before he arches a brow. "Had your fill of the club yet?"

"Honestly? No. But We shouldn't linger." The girl's friend might hunt him down to ask wtf happened even if she's coherent and buzzed and safe- and he can always dance more another time. He's got plenty of it and-

They're not supposed to get noticed. He can stick to that.

"We'll come back. Some other night."

With a subtle hand to the small of York's back, he leads them back out into the crisp night air. Always a relief to be free of the club, he feels. While it's the easiest hunting ground, it always feels like a bit much.

This, walking along the street with York at his side, is much preferable.

"That'll be nice." It's nice to have had this much time out and about among other people without having to be afraid, honestly. To enjoy the bass and the music and the thrum of humanity that he is, technically, no longer a part of anymore.

But he's got this. The calm of the night, Locus walking next to him, and a sky full of stars he can see so clearly. "God I'd missed this."

"The club? Or..."

He gestures absently to the city around them. York was once a part of all this, in a way Locus never was. He still has ties to his sense of humanity.

Locus is less certain of his own, in truth.

"Yes." The mathematician's answer. "The clubbing, the being in a city, the sound of people not in an active warzone- music and dancing and...all of it. But also being able to see with both eyes."

He tips his head in Locus' direction, lips curled in an easy smile. "Better than I ever have before. Everything's so damn clear; it's breathtaking."

Or would be if he needed to do the breathing thing out of more than habit.

"...I'm glad."

It's blunt, but it's honest. It's not as though this life doesn't have its share of wonders to offer, but York's taken to it like a duck to water. He just seems so grateful, so glad for all of it. Would any other Freelancer he offered this gift to be quite the same?

He doesn't think so. Perhaps this was how it was meant to turn out.

"You could've approached any of us, probably." During the project they would've taken any supposed leg up possible. They'd take any risk if it meant improving. "I know it was timing and circumstance but- thanks. For saving me."

For deciding his life was worth keeping around this much longer.

"You could have said no. It was your choice."

He'd simply had the means. It didn't really seem to bear thanking him for, but here he was, doing it regardless. Locus let out a quiet noise that could have been a sigh, his eyes moving to rest on some distant point on the street they were walking.

"But...you are welcome."

"You could've turned me, given me the cliffnotes, and fucked off. But you didn't." Even if it seems like maybe he's not all that used to traveling with someone anymore. York is still adjusting himself but- It's nice.

Having someone.

"I admit, my reasoning was partially self-serving." His gaze shifts back to York, eyebrow arching slightly. "While it would have been your choice, I had hoped that you would choose to stay."

Even so, he hadn't expected the...enthusiasm. York had all but leaped once Locus informed him that he wouldn't be alone, that he would stay by his side. What a pair they must have made.

"Like my one requirement for this wasn't hint enough?" He still kicks himself for that a little but- it's working out. He shrugs, eyes flicking back to Locus for a moment before returning to the sky. "I don't do 'alone' well. And you're...not an asshole. Also kind of a nerd. So."

They get on pretty well.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Alright. York's getting a look for that one. A nerd? Really? It's not enough to clip his pace, but he's obviously eyeballing him now.

"Nerd. In a good way." His smile goes as wide and innocent as he can manage. "Just. Asking about my classifications of Vampire Literature, you having read the books, that kinda stuff."

"Because I read."

He looks vaguely annoyed, but it's obvious York doesn't mean anything by it. And truthfully, it's not the worst thing he could think of him. Still.

He falls silent as they continue walking. Small talk isn't really a strenght of his, as it is.

"No, that makes you literate. Specifically reading vampire literature makes you both pragmatic and kind of adorably nerdy." He lists close enough to nudge Locus with his elbow gently. Smile, life's good.

After life? Post life? Whatever, things are good right now.

"It's not as though there were scientific documents available. Everything about our kind is mired in fiction. Sorting out the truth takes time. Research."

He gives a faintly disgruntled noise at the poke, but doesn't return it. There's an air of tolerance about him, but only just.

"Fire- bad, Sun- bad, Silver- eh. Or at least silver alloys." A beat. "Part of the hardware in my brain uses micrograms of silver. Since my brain isn't melting it's safe to say silver? In't a problem for us."

Which is good to know, honestly. "I haven't experienced any kind of psychic link with you which is probably for the best. I don't think you'd enjoy what runs through my head."

"No, but we can send impressions. Just as we can project to mortals. It has to be meant, however. I don't think it's possible to do by accident."

Which is just as well. York's not wrong. Sharing thoughts would likely be a bad idea, altogether. For both of them.

"Water hasn't proven an issue. Coffins are obviously not necessary, nor is the dirt of our homeland."

"Really?" Now that's something to play with- without breaking his stride he focuses, tries to mean it, and attempts to send locus a wave of contentment. That much is honest and pretty damn true. Hrs fed, the night's young, he's not living in a hovel.

"Yeah that's probably for the best or I'd be shit out of luck. There's a shoot to kill order on me still, I'm sure."

It comes through, a sweeping warmth that takes him by surprise, settles around his shoulders like a blanket. He blinks once, glancing back at York...

And does his best to return it. Maybe less warm, but a calm, contented stillness. It's peaceful. Grounded in a way he has not been in quite some time. Does that answer the unspoken question, he wonders?

"Not that it would accomplish much now."

Still, better not to risk violence. That's the surest way to lose cover in a hurry.

It's one thing to send a feeling- he does that back and forth with Delta all the damn time. But this? Is the first time he's sent and received this kind of stimulation from an external source and-

Like the surface of a lake, deep and serene. Like the impossible blue of the sky; vast and certain. There's a flicker of bright, crackling joy he can't help but share; proud of himself for figuring this out. For learning how to use it so quickly and, well.

Pleased that he's pleased Locus.

"Still not a fan of getting shot."

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