3991/The Deadliest Game of Telephone

The Deadliest Game of Telephone
Date of Scene:	01 November 2020
Location:	3B - Alexander's Greenwich Loft
Synopsis:	Alexander and Johanna celebrate Halloween and figure things out.
Cast of Characters:	Johanna Mitchell, Alexander Aaron

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Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    What a day. What a crazy fucking day. Twenty-four hours into the New York wilds and Johanna has already acquired quite a few experiences.
    She sits outside a sandwich shop. It's night time. The moon is out, misted over by gauzes of silken cloud, and the streets are aglow with them tiny little pixie lights that string up on every tree. Winter was coming. Soon there'd be candy-canes and shit hanging off every lamp post. Johanna didn't mind that sort of thing though. She liked festitives. Liked the overt celebration that big cities were given into, at least as far as decor is talking. It's the type of thing she missed while in Tibet. The sort of thing that made home feel like... home.
    So did a cheap rueben sandwich. Yum.
    She's got her phone out on the table with her. The bright blue screen rims the underside of her face with halyconic light. She's drifting through social feeds, catching up, as it were. Luckily within the last year or so technology had stayed relatively the same. Twitter is still popular. Youtube is still 'the' popular video thing. She wasn't certain about snap chat and tik tok and all that jazz. Maybe she should start up an instagram? Hmmmm. Too much work.
    And so the thoughts of the night went, in between crusty bites of thinly sliced beef and sauerkraut combined.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Across the city hanging upside down from a pull-up bar and casually swaying back and forth a few times, the youth known as Alexander Aaron has his thoughts wandering through his head even as he considers the passage of the last week. Perhaps not as exciting as what Johanna Mitchell endured the past week, yet it was intriguing even to him and she played no small part in it.
    Enough so that as he swung back and forth on that bar embedded in the hallway, his t-shirt falling to hang around his head, he takes a deep breath and then with an ease of movement one might find deceptive, he drops and flips to his feet with a light /fwumpf/ of impact. Toward the breakfast passthrough that's in his apartment that divides the living room from the kitchen, he casually picks up his phone from there and flits it through his most recent messages. A few. None he wants to respond to. And none from her.
    Yet he hesitates. A third meeting carries some significance with his people, it speaks to the Fates and the connection between two tethers of destiny, it binds two people in some ways, makes their connection more real and sometimes that's not entirely a good thing.
    Yet in this case, Alexander... is selfish.
    Her phone likely hums and buzzes a little as a message comes through.

<< Hey. I'm done with all my stuff. How did all yours go? >>

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    Johanna had been mid-way through a rather hearty bite when her phone began to vibrate, rattling its little heart out against the metal grate of an outdoor dining table. The point that Johanna picks it up, in spite of not having anyone nearby. The sandwich goes down, and she uses the back of her hand to bump it once against her mouth to wipe away any residue (though in truth, it is perhaps more an instinctive movement rather than a necessary one).
    And there. There's the text. Right underneath the shortening of his name she'd chosen to use--Alex.
    She would deny vehemently to anyone, anywhere, at any time the singular flutter of emotions that began to swell in the pit of her stomach.
    Her thumb shifts across the screen, and she twists her phone to pull it into both hands.

<<Hi. :)>>
<<I've got so much to tell you! Zombies!!>>

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Perched on the edge of that passthrough, just leaning there with the phone in his hands and his thumbs casually tapping out the answers, his lip twists into a smile.

<< Zombies? Most exciting thing that happened to me was I got root beer from the vending machine when I wanted ginger ale. >>

    A pause and he sort of smiles, but then his brow furrows. Already strange things are happening for her. That... could be not so good news.

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
<<Liar.>>
    She shifts in the iron grate chair. Her lips have pulled into such a wide smile that she can barely contain the glee. Fucking twitterpaition. She'd have to watch Bambi again at some point. Now that she had good internet, she could--God, she'd forgotten about that! Getting to stream things for free!
    Her bottom lip comes between her teeth as she texts on, the half-eaten sandwich almost entirely forgotten.

<<No, seriously. Zombies. I happened to be walking by a cemetary the other night.>>
<<I honestly think I saw Hellboy. I haven't even watched his movies. I should watch them sometime...>>

Alexander Aaron has posed:
<< I've always wanted to meet Hellboy. >>

    But then there's a pause between texts and she may be sitting there expecting one for a bit until finally he seems to come up with the words he wants to use.

<< But remember what we talked about. This could be because we've started to see each other. I would feel lousy if something happened to you. >>

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    She honestly doesn't realize there's a dab of time between his initial text and the other. She's spending so long trying to write, rewrite, and correct the text on her screen. Dotting her digital i's and t's as it were. And then there's rephrasing to consider. So that by the time that he's sent two texts, she's barely managed to send:

<<He was so freaking cool. He basically barrelled through a horde of them with a shovel. I mean, I think only one of them massive monster trucks could have really compared, here. For reference. He was huge!! And by the way? I was totally Carrol from the Walking Dead. Or so I thought in my head, anyways.>>

    Then she actually reads. Frowns.
    Minutes later, he gets back a text:

<<Aren't you supposed to be out trick-o-treating with the other whipper snappers. I bet your costume is cute.>>

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    As he had waited for her texts he had walked back across the room, running one hand along the back of he sofa as he moves then casually vaulting over it to drop with a whumpf into the overstuffed cushions. He holds up the phone, hazel eyes narrowing as if willing it to send is message for him to consider, then grumps as he lets his attention wander toward the balcony window.
    Her message comes through and he reads, laughing a little.

<< Which one was Carol? I never watched the Walking Dead. I saw some trailers. Was she the cute one? >>

    Those darn whippersnappers. Then he reads her second message and starts tip-tap-typing.

<< I'm not going out tonight. Too much temptation. Hey. I was thinking... >>

    A few moments pass until he starts tip-tapping again.

<< Purely for convenience's sake, would you want to crash here from time to time. To help your job search and adventuring. I have an apartment in Greenwich. Where I am now. >>

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    Johanna puts the phone down after reading the last text. Her hands come down on her thighs, which begin shaking due to the tapping of her heel against the ground. She stares at the screen until it blackens, leaving her in relative darkness in spite of the overhanging lamps.
    Several minutes later...

<<Depends. Do you have pajama onesies on hand to sweeten the deal?>>

    

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    A small laugh slips from him as he shakes his head and then lightly taps out a reply while casually twisting in his seat until he's partially upside down and lying off the edge of the sofa.

<< I don't wear pajamas. But if you want we can go get some. Or order them off Amazon. It's not like a huge apartment. But has an office, a bedroom, living room, dining room, kitchen, and a room I use to train. >>

    A few moments later and then the address pops up on the phone, complete with a maps app location to click on and gps to walk there. Perfect for the city.

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    He doesn't get a response.
    Rude!

    Two hours later, there is a firm rap of knuckles against his apartment. Just three knocks, and maybe, maybe a slight crinkle of plastic. Hm.
    When the door swings open--it has to eventually unles he plans on rotting there--there is a cheaply dressed nun standing on the outside of his apartment. Velcro'd habit and all. She holds two bags, both labeled Walmart (and if one had to guess--it's probably where the nun costume came from) bags, one of them containing a suspicious assortment of bottle heads, the other unmistakably filled with half-off bags of candy, and... something that looks like a DVD case?
    "Johanna's mobile confessional services," she chimes! She raises the bags giddily--an offering for entry!

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Answering the door, the youthful Alexander Aaron stands there in loose grey sweat shorts and a white over-sized t-shirt that depicts a /leaping/ kitty that trails a splash of rainbow out of its butt. It looks so terribly cute and matches the wry crooked half-smile on his lips as he steps back from the door, one hand still upon the handle and holding it open for her to wander on in.
    "I'm afraid you'll find no business here, Sister Johanna, for I am sweetness. Innocence. And Light. I have committed no sin." His lip twists wry and then as if he were tempting damnation he steps forward to touch a small kiss to her cheek.
    "I thought you fell down a manhole or something." That said he turns and starts to walk back into the room, gesturing openly. "Here it is, my apartment." Ta-da.

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    In, she goes, stopping only to offer her cheek as she realizes what he's going for. Damnation, indeed!
    Inward, she walks. Johanna picks a path that denotes curiosity for her surroundings, one that sees her twisting her head about trying to catch further glimpses than beyond the foyer, but ultimately, one that does not stray far from her main goal: offloading! She approaches a nearby table, depositing the goodies in a solid pile. She begins withdrawing things from the greyish blue plastic sacks, and the crinkling underlies her response. "Yeah well. You're stuck with me anyways. I'll get a confession out of you, yet! But look."
    The DVD box is wiggled free from the plastic. It's a box set. A season 1 of the Walking Dead box set. She actually wasted money on it. Romance isn't dead, yet.
    Holding the box against her chest, her eyes rove again. "So this is it, huh. Fancy. This is the type of money you're making with your side-gig?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The young Phobos steps after her, giving her enough space to explore and wander should she wish. Though his lip curls as he leans over her shoulder here and there to perhaps peer at what she has brought with her, eyebrows rising as he seems oh so curious but he gives voice to none of the thoughts that curiosity engenders.
    "Well," His voice is light, casual as he steps up close enough to start to poke around with what she's placing on the table. A small twist as he looks at the Walking Dead DVD and then he looks over at his entertainment center, and oh good he does have a DVD player. Then he's stepping to the hall. "I have a trust fund for the most part. Nothing extravagant but it covers food and shelter and the occasional expense. I could go buy a car, but... don't really need one." He twists a smile to life, "Once I hit 21 I'll have to get a job I imagine, or just..." He looks across the room. "Keep on keepin' on."
    That said he motions down the hall, "Down there is the bedroom, and the office is connected off of that, bathroom is straight on, and on the right door is the gym." He smiles a little, "It's not as nice as the one at my dad's safehouse, but it works well enough."
    Then he steps up behind the good Sister Johanna and slips his arms around her waist, touching lips to the side of her wimple. "It's good to see you."

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    There's all sorts of garbage in the bags. The seasonal box set. Reeces Pieces. M&Ms. The huge variety candy packs. Candy corn. Way easier to grab all of this stuff at the store than to go door-to-door. The other bag has, "Gigglewater," she grins. Cheap prosseco. Orange juice to mix in it. Soda. Presumably for him, since he can't touch the alcohol stuff.
    But technically he can't be touching on nuns either. And here he is. Doing that.
    Johanna kinda' likes it.
    Like... a lot. To the point that when his arms start their wrap around her waist, she lean back against it. Letting her shoulders brush into the Nyan-Cat that's plastered on the front of Alex's shirt. The hardness of his physique is easy enough to feel pressing against her back. And as if he were a wall, she leans into him, certain in his stability as she begins taking her sneakers off by stepping on the backs of them, first one foot than the other, as to prevent any sort of tracking.
    Her head tilts as he presses his lips to the side of her--okay, it's really not fair to call it a wimple, but let's go with that. She doesn't quite see him with her side-glance but it's kind of enough just to see the swell of his shoulder behind her. "I have to talk to you about something."
    Wuh-oh.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Sure," She hears as his reply, even as he nuzzles a little into the curve of her neck. Then his lips slip into a wry smile as he eases around, one hand drifting along her hip and her rear before stepping away while he goes off around her to investigate more of her loot. He takes the box of candy packs and casually starts to open it, just enough to get one of the peanut M&Ms boxes and pull open the tiny cardboard flap to shake some of the into his mouth.
    He crunches away for a time while smiling at her. "What would you like to talk about." He asks her as he reaches a hand out as if to draw her close even as he takes a seat upon the over-stuffed arm of that couch, drawing up one leg underneath him to sit to the side a little, the back of the sofa under his other elbow.
    And should she allow herself to be drawn to him he'll smile up into her eyes, those curious pale blue and sea green irises meeting her gaze. "You still gotta tell me all the details about the Hellboy thing, and then we can watch the show?" A glance at the DVDs.
    "Have you eaten?"

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    How can such a simple movement affect her so?
    More of them damn hormones.
    He nuzzles into her neck and she practically purrs over it, making a slight vocalization that has as little weight as a breath of air, until he pulls well enough away that he sheer presence isn't completely tilting her. She recovers, moving a hand up to her head to rip the habit's top off. The velcro by her neck rrrrrrips! And she tosses it to the table with everything else. She drags a hand through her hair, taking a moment to style the short cut back and behind her ears (though the second she does, it flops back down over them). The box set is grabbed, as is the prosseco, and she allows herself to be pulled by the hand toward his couch.
    The bubbles are placed on a side table and she stands in front of him--over him, as he sits--and stares down down at him, meeting his gaze with her own bright-eyed smile. "I kinda' wanted to talk about us. But you're right. Hellboy is more important. Dude, he was /thick/."
    She slips down into the actual seat of the couch with a twist and a flop. A leg curls over one as she nods her head. "Yeah. Ya' texted me while I was grabb'n dibs at Press'd."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Easing onto the couch with a whisper of his sweat shorts sliding on the fabric of the arm of that sofa, he grins as he wedges himself into place between her and that spot, leaving them curled together. His arm settles around her shoulders as he promptly /slouches/ a bit in the seat, propping his feet up on the coffee table before them and his head lowering as he takes a deep breath.
    "Ok, serious face." He focuses and then nods and looks sidelong at her, "Talk about us." He draws his arm back from her shoulders and takes both hands into his lap, fingers interlacing as he shifts his hips slightly to more directly focus on her.
    A deep breath is drawn, then he nods. "What would you like to talk about. Regarding us?"

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    "Regarding Hellboy?" She interjects before he's able to slip in that 'Us', her grin easy and wide like a trick on the side of a street. There's a certain amount of adjusting that is done so that he's not -totally-squished into the over-stuffed couch arm. But not much. She's still greedy for his contact. His warmth.
    It takes her a moment to slip into the idea of being serious. Suddenly, she wants that bottle of prosseco. Like. Already opened and tipped toward her mouth. But she resists. No point in being a wine-o about it. Where he threads his fingers together, she plays with her own, suddenly interested in how sharp her nails are--and then with the hem of her habit! She has to make sure it's pulled all the way down over the edge of her knees before she finally gives voice to her thoughts.
    "Okay, so...
    "I was thinking...
    "Or rather, I made up my mind." Perhaps apparent to Alexander at that point is an underlying anxiety to even speaking any of this out loud. Is it overkill? Is she being too formal about this sort of thing? That type of anxiety. Her eyes flick up to him. She gives him that much, with unwavering certatinty as she speaks firmly, "I think I want to give things a shot. Between us."
    Her eyes drift back down toward his hands, rather than her own. Picking a point to focus on before she allows herself to speak again, "I figure... It doesn't really matter what your emotions are, so long as you're into it. What counts is what I get out of it. And if it becomes a problem," her shoulders shrug under the black stretchy material, drawing it taut against her breasts for a second. "It's a bridge we can burn after we're over it.
    "But." There's always a but! Her lips start to quirk more to one side than the other, and her full lashes lower, nearly kissing the top of her cheeks as her eyes hood. "I have demands."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Well Hellboy's not really my type but if you /really/ like him..." Alexander starts to say, but his smile twists wryly as she knows him well enough to be able to tell he's not exactly being entirely serious. He does, however, exert his right to more elbow room by wiggling a bit in between her and the arm of the sofa, then as she speaks she can't really read him too well. Those hazel irises give away so little insight into the youth's thoughts and offer little hint to his sentiment.
    Yet as she talks he very gently, and affectionately lifts his leg to rest it over hers and that nun dress, just a small hint of affection as he listens, turning a little more to the side to face her directly.
    "Alright, I'd like that." He finally says quietly, head tilting to the side when she says she wants to give things a shot. "You want for it to be just us, me and you, against the world? And with no one else drawn in with us romantically." The way he speaks to the issue, it's clear he has given some thought to it.
    "Ah, demands. Yeah totally." His head bobs a bit as he listens, eyes distancing as he perhaps lets his thoughts drift as if trying to imagine what she could demand that he would have to deny. His head turns the other way and to the side. "Please tell me."

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    Her hands lift, easily coming to rest on top of his thigh, and even alittle adventurously toward the inside of his pants' seam. Going so far as to even fidget with that instead of her own nails. She considers the sound of his counter-proposal. If it can be called that. She considers it by leaning back into the couch, with the side of her cheek dimpling inward as she gives into chewing the inside of her mouth. "I mean. I wouldn't have put it quite like that, Cheeseball," she finally says, purposely being 'tough' about it with a lifted chin and all! Before she softens, curls toward him and touches the shell of her ear to his shoulder briefly. It seems like she might add more to that. She's definitely considering it. There's a whole entire conversation happening inside of her head, and the only thing she lets slip out to the surface, to give him some kind of yay or nay, is a simple, "But...yeah. That wouldn't bother you?"
    And her demands. Hmm.
    Her hands flare up in front of herself. Two index fingers point straight as though she were getting ready to conduct an entire symphony of thoughts into one coherent stream, only for them to curl and pinch with her thumbs as she starts with, "First? All of your hoodies are mine. Every single one of them. Ultimate hoody controllage." With that out of the way. "Also. If I'm going to be crashing at your place." She glances at him now, trying to put on her best adorable expression that she can.
    She's really successful at it! What with those bright eyes and pouty plump lips. "A pet. I've been thinking of getting one ever since I got back."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    One thing that she can say about the youth beside her, is that he is rapt, paying attention and focusing fully upon her. He blinks slowly, and rarely, as if making sure that he is not missing any particular word or inflection as she speaks. Then his lip twists slightly as he says to her in answer. "I can try. I don't have any desire for anyone else right now, but if that changes I'll let you know before I take any action?"
    His voice lilts up at the end of that last word, inquiring curiously as if that is the right thing to do. But then he redoubles that focus as she advances the first of her demands.
    Which causes him to smirk.
    "No deal. But we can divvy up the hoodies fairly. There are a few I like having on hand that are my faves." His lip twists a little.
    Then the idea of a pet and he lifts his chin, "Maybe? My uncle tried to give me a dog but... that's a big responsibility. A cat possibly? But you totally have to handle the poo situation." His head nods, non-negotiable that.

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
     Johanna nods her head slowly, taking a considering swallow that tenses the front of her throat momentarily. "I think so. It's... It's been a really long time since I've had..." Her jaw shifts and she begins inspecting the inside of his house again. her hands still on her his inner thigh. "Since the last time I've had a steady relationship. Years, I guess. I don't think a date or two here and there really count. Not in the grand scheme of things." A heaviness inflects her voice as she murmurs, not quite afraid of being vulnerable, "You, you counted for a lot more than whatever else there's been between. Not to stroke your ego or anything. It doesn't need stroking. But I digress." Her fingers squeeze into his leg! She glances back his direction with a soft smile. "So if you really, really had the hots for someone, as long as I get the chance to participate with it, I'm cool. I guess my mindset is that, I really think in that team mentality. Us versus them in all things, in all things war, and especially love." Her nose wrinkles then. As a 'so there' type finish.
    On the matter of the hoodies? "You can retain ownership. I get full borrowing permissions." There's a hint in her voice there that suggests she just might borrow the favorites just to be spiteful. "And a cat... Hm..." She adds nothing else! It's still just a consideration, afterall.
    "Okay. Final demand. I get the whole truthiness of everything. Anything I wanna know, ya'gotta be an open book for me. Especially because of the... God thing."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    His smile shifts gentle as he draws his lower lip between his teeth while looking at her and he takes a deep breath. "Then that sounds good, I think the important thing is..." He nods a little as she finishes speaking, agreeing as he rests his hand upon hers, fingers interlacing gently. "That yes, we be honest with each other, and we communicate. And yeah. I am comfortable being us versus the world as long as you'd like. And if that's years upon years I'll feel very lucky."
    That said he takes a deep breath, "As for the hoodies, agreed." His smile broadens, his hand squeezing hers.
    Yet that last part that seems to pique his curiousity as he lifts his chin, "What would you like to know? I'll answer you as openly as I can unless it conflicts with a prior obligation or oath." The way he says those words, it's as if he's had to say them before.

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    Their fingers interlock, and it feels good. Just the texture of skin on skin. Her thumb shifts a lot into the webbing of his thumb and forefinger. As though she can't quite get enough of the touch, and therefore needs to stimulate more of it. "I don't know yet," she admits. "I haven't thought that far ahead! But I figured I should get it in there. It felt important." Her fingers squeeze along with his and she leans forward to plant a kiss squarely against the side of his jawline. "I figure that getting into these sort of things with Godlings is like making deals with the fey. Gotta be thorough from the off set."
    Eventually, she untangles her hand from his, and reaches across for that bottle of prosecco finally. She twists the little metal wire cage off the cork with relative ease, and uncorks the cheapy bubble drink with a loud POP that's followed with chilled, fruity smelling wisps that exit the bottle neck. "Your turn. What your demands. Limited to three, because I'm a mere mortal."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Hmm," The youthful Olympian says as he looks away for a moment, gathering his thoughts and lifting his free hand to rub at the back of his neck while his gaze distances. His other leg comes up and he shifts forward a little to tuck it under himself so he can more easily face her while he considers.
    "I think I would like reciprocation, if you find someone you have feelings for to speak to me before you act on it perhaps?" His hazel eyes remain distant as he takes a deep breath, "You can't /ever/ sleep with my dad no matter what."
    That last is said with such /sternness and seriousness/ it's clear that the very idea of it is a big 'eww!' to him. Yet he's still looking thoughtful.
    Turning to face her his eyebrows shoot up, "Oh. Honesty is also good. Even if you think it'd hurt my feelings. I'll return the favor." He takes another breath and says softly, "Hrm. Oh. I'm terrible at holidays, so you'll have to take point on that and all. Which, I see you have well in hand."
    He grins as he looks around the room at the hodge-podge Halloween festivities set up in his home.

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    A drink is taken. The bottle is reached back across his body as she holds the mouthful of bubbly, swallowing only after she struggles to make sense of why -this- would be a demand. "Is your dad some kind of playboy or something?" The sheer absurdity of -that- being a demand causes the older woman to draw up straight. To curl her legs up into the sofa. To proper head into her hand with her arm along the back of the couch as she faces him. "Did this happen to you before? Is this a legitimate danger that looms over your young head?"
    She strokes the side of his cheek and surges herself forward. Her lips press against his. There's need in the movement though she doesn't open her lips to incite some type of deepening. Just... firmness. Presence. Intimacy. "If I get the hots for anyone, you'll know first before they do. I promise."
    She pulls away marginally. Enough so that she can watch her own hand lift to his chest. To watch herself trace the image of the kitten on his shirt with a single digit. "I'll take the lead on all festivities. It's the Walking Dead time."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    A low laugh as he shakes his head, "No, not yet at least. But yeah he..." Alexander tilts his head, "Heck, my whole family sort of... really get out there and do their own thing." Which is understandable in some ways considering all those myths. But then he gives her a small shrug.
    Yet when it becomes clear it is Walking Dead time he grins faintly, "Ok, Walking Dead. This show better be good."
    He gives her a stern finger-pointing before he settles in and reaches for the remote to the television.