882/Feline You Out

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Feline You Out
Date of Scene: 31 March 2020
Location: Titan's Tower - Lobby
Synopsis: Gar and Terry have a catnip moment. Gar has no idea yet about what's really going on.
Cast of Characters: Gar Logan, Terry O'Neil

Gar Logan has posed:
'Hey, can I come over?' 'Sure!'

Maybe not the exact words, but that's the gist of what leads to Terry heading over to Titans Tower to see Gar. The place is hopping lately, almost as if it has new life to it. All right, so one bird-alien starting to hang out, and one archer type seeming interested in doing the same doesn't quite make the tower a hotspot of activity again, but Rome wasn't built in a day.

Gar takes the open elevator shaft down, going into free-fall before turning himself into a hawk to coast the rest of the way toward the main doors, landings softly back in his more customary appearance. Then, he waits.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
It doesn't take Terry too long to show up. This might give the impression that, perhaps, he was already on the way when he texted Gar. Which might seem a little desperate. Or perhaps eager.

When the redhead gets out of his car, he makes straight for the tower entrance, with a bounce in his step. His appearance is his normal, usual self- except, perhaps, for the fact that he is wearing a pair of cycling gloves, whichi are rather incongruent with his general look. Some might even consider it a rather sorry attempt to appear 'cool.' A failed one, at that.

When he approaches the main doors and sees Gar, he sticks his hands in his pockets and grins. "Hey there..."

Gar Logan has posed:
Gar Logan lifts his head in a curious way toward Terry as he watches the approach, squinting initially before his head bobs the other way. Almost birdlike, or at least owing to the animal sides he often possesses. In casualwear, he opens one of the doors and asks immediately, "Are you training to be a butler for some wealthy royalty or something?"

So he saw the gloves. "I guess you do need more income when you're an intern on the bottom rung. I know what it's like to be a gofer."

One guess what he's just morphed himself into.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry smirks. "Very funny, Garfield. No, I got some nasty cuts doing parkour and I'm keeping my hands covered so the bandaids don't slip and all that," he says by way of excuse. He leans over and raises an eyebrow, "And I got you something. But I'm not just going to give it away to any kentucky ground squirrel, you know."

Gar Logan has posed:
"Sounds dangerous," the Garpher says, standing up on his hind legs so he's a bit taller, but not even close to Skee-Lo height (that would be his normal, in fact). "And I'll have you know I can do the Caddyshack dance, /no/ problem!"

Paws rest at gopher hips as Terry gets closer to his level. "Kentucky Ground Squirrel? Why, I never..! But, you know what? Fine! I'll show you something you can't possibly resist!"

Release the quokka!

Like this, only green, of course: https://i.imgur.com/gt3oBul.png

And yes, he's reaching out. "Give. Now."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Oh god, that's the most adorable thing I've ever seen." Terry can't resist, and he scoops up the Quokkar into his arms, walking into the tower. "We need to get some footage of you like this, it'll explode your social media accounts," he says, making a note about this in his mind, because it'd be great for Gar's social media image.

The tower /feels/ different. A little. While part of him is still conscious of the fact that somewhere in there, there is a core of darkness that is pulsing dangerously, a good amount of the tower feels like it's being /lived/. What a difference can two (three potentially) people make.

Terry is reminded of something his mother used to say- her grandmother used to believe that uninhabited houses would become run-down a lot faster than lived-in houses, not because of lack of manintenance, but because there was no heart keeping the house alive anymore- its people.

"How's the birdboy liking the place?"

Gar Logan has posed:
"Yeah? Can you tell any difference between this and my usual self?" the quokka asks, its natural, grinning face almost cartoonish in how defined it is. Gar wonders, "Maybe I should use it as my profile pic for a little while?" He's grabbing a couple of Terry's gloved fingers with those little handpaws of his, taking the ride further in.

If this place had an actual heart, it's back in the form of the green Titan. That alone could push back some of the darkness and bring a little light back to the building that's been a home for many of the more youthful heroes out there and could be again for some of them, plus a new set.

"Oh, Kian?" A pause, then he perches atop Terry's shoulders as a cat, balancing with part of his body leaning against Terry's head as the tail flicks across an ear and part of the forehead. "He's been around. I think he's figuring out a few things, still. Like, if he's gonna stay here full-time or not. Now let's take the elevator up to the dorms."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry smirks, "Yeah, your usual self has a lot less fur going on!" This is accurate, mostly, even with the occasional fuzz Gar manifests. When Gar moves from Quokka to Cat, Terry does his best to keep his posture such that it doesn't jettison the feline from his shoulders as he summons the elevator, and then climbs on board.

"You know, this tower is beautiful," he says rather wistfully, "I always wondered what it must be like to live in a place like this. I guess every 'normie' like me does, to be honest." His hands move inside his gloves.

Normie. Yeah.

"So, is your room still clean?" Terry asks, with a smirk.

Gar Logan has posed:
There is no trouble balancing for the cat, who gets himself a better perch by placing his paws atop Terry's head. "But there's still some, and I can't really help that," the gato named Gar notes. "When we had a full group around, it felt like something was always going on. People coming and going, sleeping at different times, in the gym, hanging out watching some movies or playing games, training, everything."

He sounds as if he longs for that kind of atmosphere again. Could have something to do with why he's trying to take point on getting things going. Nobody else he knows of is. "I don't know what you're talking about," he claims, regarding the room. Terry will be finding out shortly, anyway. Once the doors open, Gar hops off his shoulders and lands in a run toward the door, returning to normal so he can key in the code for it.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Well, let's keep at it. I may never /be/ a Titan, but I will help you in any way to bring them back. If Colette is right, the Titans are important to the world."

Terry stops short of Gar as he returns to his human self, keying the code. The readhead reaches over and touches Gar's hand with his gloved one. "But they're also important to you. It's going to happen."

Gar Logan has posed:
"You never know. We might need someone for PR, to put out some positive stories as things get going again," Gar says. His cheeks are still fuzzier after the various animal forms he just came out of, and even his nails are slightly more claw-like. That tends to fade quickly when he's only spent a short time in a form, but it often lasts longer if it takes a lot of focus and effort to do, or a longer time spent as something else.

There was a reason he was having some weird cravings after the first encounter with Kian.

The room itself is..not the tidiest. It looks like a few things have been tossed into a corner, as if that would hide them from curious eyes. He looks at the gloved hand, giving it a closer inspection before he heads in. "Yeah, I know. See? Told you! Almost spotless!" On /his/ walls? Lots of posters, almost all of them animal-based. The room looks like a menagerie for somebody who can /be/ the same.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry chuckles, "Yeah, except for the clutter, the hidden piles of mysterious shapes and the lingering promise of the ghosts of laundries past, it's clean." Terry teases. "I could do whatever PR you guys need me to do. But let's face it, even then I won't be a Titan, I'll be /staff/." He winks.

Walking in after Gar, he crosses his arms, putting those gloves out of sight. "I remember this room, though. Good memories," he says.

Gar Logan has posed:
Gar Logan shuts the door, which automatically locks it again. A good privacy measure, which can be turned off if one desires. "I don't know what you're talking about," he repeats from before, turning up the denial meter. It does seem like the kind of room someone his age and maturity level would keep, for better or worse. "You'd be on our payroll, which would technically make you a Titan too, even if it's as a staffer. Still family."

He eyes Terry then grins at the mention of memories. "Yeah, until you forgot I eat so much I'm, like, hungry half the time as it is, and.." He pauses, sniffing suddenly as his eyes wander.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"What is it?" Terry asks as Gar sniffs. The redhead, in an uncharacteristic show of boldness, is now almost upon Gar himself, close enough that he can put an arm around his shoulders. "I took a shower this morning, so whatever it is you're smelling, I bet you it's coming from that laundry pile," he says with a chuckle. He was feeling somewhat light and relaxed.

Gar Logan has posed:
Gar Logan thwaps at Terry's arm. "No, you dork. I was just reminded of something. Friend of mine broke a foot last week and needed a few things. I said I'd help pick some stuff up." But, whether Terry moves along with him or not, he approaches the desk area that has an all-in-one computer with monitor, plus a TV mounted on the wall above it and a mini fridge/freezer set up on the floor next to everything. On the desk is a bag.

Before he really thinks about what he's doing, Gar grabs it and brings it up to his nose for another sniff. His eyes blink a few times. "Dude, is /that/ what it's like for them?"

Catnip. He got a bag of catnip for that friend.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"What is what for them?" Terry asks, puzzled. As he approaches Gar, he frowns "You're not making sense, Gar. Stop it, we have Harley for that."

He pauses for a second as he gets close enough. There is a brief rush, for a moment, as he takes in /something/. Then he blinks a couple of times, feeling unusually light-headed, but also a little lighter overall. "What's in there? Food? The treasure of the Sierra Madre? My sense of decorum?"

Gar Logan has posed:
"Dude, check it out!" Gar holds up the bag, all but thrusting it in Terry's face. "Catnip! It smells all minty!" At least, in a subtle way, but right now his olfactory receptors are working a bit beyond normal, leaving him grinning like he's thought of the best joke ever.

Then he laughs. "Decorum? What do /you/ know about /that?/" He wears an oddly thoughtful look, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. "I was just realizing there's a little cat left in me, and this stuff is hitting me in a weirdly funny way."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Gar wasm't the only one. The creeping, terrifying realization started sneaking up on Terry- the kind that only comes too late upon someone, after they have stepped on the pressure plate and they can hear the grinding of ancient gears behind a wall as the trap is about to be sprung.

"Maybe you should put it away then?" he asks, his voice a little more high pitched than he intended. His head is starting to swim just a little, and a smile creeps up on his lips. "Don't go getting high on me now. I can't promise I won't draw on your face with marker if you conk out," Terry says and leans in, suddenly butting Gar's forehead with his-very lightly, more of a 'love tap' than a headbutt.

Gar Logan has posed:
"Mental note: Terry likes catnip. Knew he was weird, but damn." Gar offers up an internal thought, vocalized, a crooked grin in place. "Why? You're getting kinda silly." And, the feline vestiges are fading rapidly from the shifter, rendering the catnip less impactful for him.

Gar scoffs. "Me? I'm not into that kinda stuff, dude. This was more like a contact high. There's no danger of me--hey!" The headbutt, which is /very/ much like a cat's bunting, comes as more of a surprise than anything even remotely close to painful. "Dude, did you just..?" He smears a fingertip of 'nip at Terry's nose in retaliation.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Augh!" Terry draws back, but it's too late, it's on his nose. "Hey, I'm not weird. And you're the one sniffing it," he points out. And yet, his case feels like it's on shaky ground. He takes a few steps back, realizing that the smell is having a strange effect on him, beause he's feeling positively /giddy/.

Only too late does the connection forms in his mind between the state of his hands and the contents of the scent.

Oh crap.

He needed a way out of the room before the smell got to him.

"Say, I'm kinda hungry, are you hungry? We should eat. If we are,"he says. Gar was always hungry, what were the odds that he /wasn't/ this time around?

Gar Logan has posed:
Likely to Terry's immense relief, Gar closes up the bag and tosses it back on the desk. "Yeah, I'm starving," he confirms, proving that nearly no matter what the situation is, thoughts of food are never very far away. "I was gonna drop that off for her cats along with some other stuff later. C'mon. Let's go see what we can scrounge up."

Once Gar knows what's really going on, both of them might look back on this moment and laugh. Right now, it appears Terry is greatly in need of getting into a less dangerous situation. "We've got popcorn, ice cream, cookies, crackers, chips, chocolate, probably a few other things that start with a C..."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Yeah, C sounds fine," Terry says absent-mindedly as they leave the room, and its concentrated catnip smell, behind. He wipes his forehead with his arm. He's started to sweat a bit. "I gotta tell ya, though, it doesn't sound nearly as appetizing as some of the things you could get with a 'K', for example."

He wipes his brow. Was it getting hot in here? The Tower had a controlled weather system. It was unlikely.

Gar Logan has posed:
The door shuts, effectively sealing them off from the effects of the catnip. Gar looks over a shoulder at Terry, the sweating leading to him thinking he sees a more flushed expression. "You need to get out for a breath of fresh air? I had no idea you were that sensitive. You don't even /have/ a cat at your place. And we're doing K words now? There's kiwis, kidney beans, uh..key lime pie, kale...ketchup fits both K /and/ C depending on how you spell it.."

Then, he perks up. "KRISPY KREME!" He's on the way toward the elevator again, ready to raid the rations.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Kale is immediately disqualified," Terry says as the elevator door opens, "I'm fine, fine, really!" he says, still flushed a faint shade of red, "Just fine... hm. I can think of better words than that, Gar!" he holds up fingers as he counts them down:

"Kites. Kilometers. Kinematics. Those aren't food, let me try again. Kitkats. Kiwis. Kimchi... Hershey kisses. Nougat kisses..."

Suddenly the space between them in the elevator grows very short. "Green boy kisses."

Wait, what?

Terry leans forward and attempts to place a kiss on Gar's lips, bringing his hands up to the green teen's face as he had done many, many times before. In his mind.

Gar Logan has posed:
Gar Logan makes a face. "Yeah, kale can f..well, it can fuhgeddaboudit!" he exclaims, slipping right into an easy Brooklyn accent that would have come from something like the Honeymooners, which many point to for the origin of that particular way of saying it.

He pushes the button back down to the lounge, nodding slowly as non-food K words are brought up. Just before he's about to say those don't count, Terry's veering off in another direction. Kisses?

Green boy kisses?

When one is tried - maybe it's something about the Tower itself - Gar impulsively meets it halfway, closing his eyes.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Their first kiss was a short, timid one. This next one has a lot more 'oomph' behind it, so much so that it even ends up with Terry putting his arms around Gar. It's still, though, by all means a chaste kiss- no tongue, but it makes up for it in length, as it lasts the full trajectory down, and then some.

When Terry finally breaks the kiss, he doesn't step back and he doesn't let go of Gar. He's breathing heavily, and feeling rather lightheaded, but he smiles a little.

"... Still think it's nice?"

Gar Logan has posed:
However long it lasts, ten or fifteen seconds but feeling like maybe two or three times that, Gar steals a quick glance our of one eye cracked open only briefly before it shuts again, a low 'mmm' in the back of his throat as arms move similarly to Terry's.

As the elevator continues downward, lips part and he sniffs once. "I think I can still smell the catnip on your nose," he remarks, though he's also short of breath. Thoughts swim as well, but he grins in return. "It was a little better than nice."

The elevator dings its agreement, or just to tell them they've arrived at their destination.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry smiles, acknowledging Gar's reply. He doesn't say anything, and then the elevator door begins to open. "You know..." he says quietly, reaching up to brush a finger along Gar's right cheek. The swimming sensation in his head has given way- everything is on the verge of being just /funny/ right now.

"You must have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

Terry's elbow moves backwards for a second. And then he breaks into a grin. "So let's see how observant they are!"

He playfully shoves Gar back- not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to surprise him. The doors are alreday closing, as he had pressed the button for closure, "Hide and seek! Catch me if you can!" his hand hits the top floor button as he slips past the quickly-closing gap of the elevator door. The elevator, designed for efficiency and fast responses, takes off with Gar in it.