crossmyheartandhope

I don't even remember the last time I bought something. I can take care of this much.

[hands over her phone]

Just get some good stuff, it's all the same to me.

Twenty-seven things of Yan Yan.

[Takes the phone.]

[Does not let go]

This privilege can be taken away, you understand.

Jeez, okay, okay. Yan Yan free, I promise.

[Releases, all smiles]

So long as we're on the same page.

Hearing you loud and clear.

[He orders some senbei and some Pretz - the kind of things she tends to eat more of, when he shares his snacks - and gets the bottle of coconut rum before handing the phone back.]

Guess we gotta go pick it up now, huh?

Yeah. I can get it if you wanna get comfy. You did just schlep out here after all.

You just want me to warm the mattresses up before you crawl in.

[But actually, that's. He won't, anymore, will he? Less than before, even.]

A-anyway, yeah, sure. If that's cool?

...Yeah. Let me know if you got any last-minute requests.

[she flips a wave and starts climbing back out the window]

[Lets her get out the window before he just kind of. Flops down and closes his eyes for a second.]

[He's got time. She is gone for a while.]

[Cool. Cool. Cause it's going to take a little while before he picks himself up and gets into comfier clothes, and then immediately kick himself for not bringing comfier clothes that have long sleeves.]

[At length there's a pounding at the hideout door--heavy, more of a bash or kick than a knock. By the third pound she gets the door open, stomping in with a huge box of stuff as she kicks the door shut behind her.]

I'm home~

[She's changed to loungewear, and kicks off slippers before setting the box down on their pilfered cafe table. She pulls out the requested snacks and a few more (puffed corn snacks and some non-yanyan sweets); tea and juice and bourbon along with the rum. Once those've been unpacked, she tosses a blanket at his head.]

Now you can warm up the mattresses. Plug that in, wouldja?

[She bends to their other jury-rigged plug and hooks up an electric kettle.]

Jeez, dude. You really went all out.

[He pokes his head out from under the blanket and wanders over to plug it in, wearing it like a hooded cloak.]

Had some of this stuff already and just forgot. Makes sense to finally outfit the hideout, right? --I mean, it's here and all.

Yeah, time to step up our hideout game.

Forgot to ask Intensity about the floor, though, sorry dude.

[Just crawls on into the mattress fort opening, blanket and all.]

Just means he can't turn it off if he gets pissy later. Figure if we're mostly in the fort anyway what's the big deal? Could get a kerosene heater or something if we need.

[Considers, then shoves all the refreshments and accessories back into the box and shoves it at the entrance to the mattress fort for easier access]

I wanna get one of those tall ones with the fire, like they got for restaurant patios.

[Scoots over to make space for her.]

Hadn't planned on carbon monoxide end, but hey, why not.

[Climbs in after him]

Want me to bartend or you got it yourself?

Eh, we'll leave a window open, it'll be fine.

We doing fancy mixed stuff? All you, dude, I dunno what goes with what.

[He untucks the blanket from around him to sling half of it over her, too.]

Juice with rum, tea with bourbon. Or juice? Whatever. Do what you want.

[Stays with him in the blanket a moment longer before leaning forward to crack open the rum for a Malibu pineapple and a Malibu OJ; the cups are small but the pours are heavy because what is a shotglass, and she hands him his choice]

Cheers?

[Reaches out to take it.]

[That. Hm. Those sure are scars he didn't have before on his inner forearm, jagged and vertical, from wrist to elbow.]

Cheers.

[It's not that bright in the fort, as mattresses do a better job at blocking light than pillows. But there's still enough light to see how dark the lines are against his skin. So she reaches out towards them, though stops short of touching them if she gets that far.]

...What happened?

[He takes the drink and pulls it in nearer to himself, so the scars are hidden when he presses his arms closer to his chest.]

S'nothing. It was - old, from way back.

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