Rar!
Chaes and Loe don't kill each other.
Ch'son arrives and Loe turns her attention on him. In split-second it takes her, it's clear sharpness of her eyes and the tight, downturned line of her mouth that she is not happen. A flash of a step brings her toward him and she reaches for his wrist in an attempt to yank him into the room and shut the door behind him.
"Hey, now," Ch'son says as she's trying to yank him into the room so she can shut the door. He lets her, of course, or at least doesn't try to keep her from doing it, but now he's watching her with his own brows furrowed slightly. "Can y' just say whatever y' need t' say 'n get it over with?" He sounds vaguely dismissive. He hasn't done anything wrong, after all. According to him.
Loe lets go of his wrist as soon as he's in the room, as soon as there's space to get the door closed behind him. It doesn't shut with it's usual quiet click, either. The short reverberation of her slamming it closed just further emphasizes that dark expression she wears. She turns to him, glaring. But she doesn't yell, she doesn't scream. It's a low growl. "What the fuck?" Her lip curls, a soundless snarl.
Ch'son isn't going to come in and make himself comfortable, of course, but he probably doesn't look as defensive as he ought to look considering he must have some idea of what has her upset. Pissed off. Whatever she is. "What?" he asks again. "He fuckin' asked for it."
"You think you have some right to just punch anyone who you even -think- has looked sideways at me? Did you even think to ask me if I needed defending?" Loe's brows are pulled hard together, a hard fire in her eyes. She steps forward to shove at his chest with both hands. "What the fuck?"
"Yeah," Ch'son says, but this time he raises his voice. Not quite yelling, not /quite/ angry yet, but a lot more firm. "I think I got every right t' punch the assholes you got sniffin' around you. Don't know what you're playin' at with that shady bastard, but y' deserve a fuck of a lot better 'n him." The shove she aims at his chest makes him step back but there's nothing backing down in his expression or demeanor.
"Why?" Loe spits back when he makes that claim, moving to shove him again in quick succession. "What gives you the right? You think he's the only guy who's ever hit on me? Do you want a list? You want a list of every guy?" By now her hands have balled into fists. And if she were a tough, rough'n tumble sort of girl, maybe she'd use them for punching, but instead she just swings them at him overhanded. "You didn't tell me -I- was the girl you were supposedly defending." Beat, beat, beat. "What is wrong with you?"
"I know he ain't the only guy that's hit on you. Half the fuckin' Weyr probably has. But you ain't fuckin' around with half the Weyr, Loe, are you?" Ch'son deflects some of her swinging and then he's reaching to grasp one of her forearms to jerk her closer to him with his own growl, grip maybe a little on the slightly too tight end of the spectrum. "/You're/ what's wrong with me. /You./" Emphasized by a slight shake.
Loe grunts, maybe just for being caught and unable to continue her fist-thumping, maybe because that catching grasp is tighter than she expects. She jerks at his hold, as much to pull away as to try to hit him again. "You're insane. What makes you think I'm doing anything with Hal? You had no right to hit Vlad either." She continues to seethe. The hand he hasn't caught keeps up with the pitiful ineffectual hitting, just exclamation points on her words. Not that the fist lands softly. At least his shake shuts her up for a second. She glares up at him, at his mouth. Then she growls back, "You're not the only guy that wants me. Control yourself." Though such cruel words probably don't help.
"I love you," Ch'son says but the way he says it makes it sound like he's angry about it. At this point, maybe he is. "Don't matter what makes me think what I think. If Hal's lyin' about it, then he fuckin' deserved it just as well. Vlad, too." It's the last that makes him go quiet, makes his hand flex where he's holding her arm like he's not entirely sure what to do with her. In the end he doesn't do anything but say, "I have been." With her, at any rate.
She might be doing the hitting, lousy as it may be, but with those three words Loe is the one who exhales a shuddering breath as though she's just been punched in the gut. Her lashes flutter as she stares at his neck; it's much safer than looking at his face. "Why would you say that?" she says, barely shaking her head, as if this was some particularly low blow that she can't quite believe he'd stoop to. Her glance snaps back up, though, wary and hard. "Why would you say that?"
The grip on her arm loosens finally, then drops away. Chaes' expression hasn't gotten any happier about any of this. Actually probably more angry. He lifts his hands in some gesture of surrender or something, then takes a step back. "It's true. It's true and I fuckin' wish it wasn't." He shakes his head, shifts like he might head back to the door but he doesn't make any move to actually open it. "I wish--" But he doesn't finish. Maybe he's not sure what he wishes.
Loe's hand jerks away when he releases her, but now she can't bring herself to pound her fists on him again. He might as well have a bubble of i-love-you all around him; she doesn't dare touch him. "Who do you think I am, Ch'son? Who? Tell me? Who is this person that you're in love with?" Her eyes cut to the door, then back to him. "Don't you dare," she warns against that impulse he has to run away whenever things get ugly.
"You," Ch'son begins, only turning back partially as he continues, "You're prob'ly the one woman in this entire fuckin' Weyr that I should wanna stay as far the fuck away from as I can. Y' get off on business and y' probably only put up with any of us at all cause that's the only way y' can get what y' actually want." It probably doesn't matter to him whether or not that's accurate. "Just tell me t' leave and I'll leave. Cause /this/ ain't what I want."
"I'm the worst possible choice and so you love me?" It sounds ridiculous to Loe and so it sound ridiculous coming out of her mouth. His poise to head for the door isn't lost on her. "No, if you want to leave, if you want to come in here and say that and make things as weird and miserable and stupid as possible and then walk out, that's going to be on you. You don't get to put that on me. I'm not the one fucking everything up." She looks a bit like she might want to hit him again, but that bubble is still in place. "What -do- you want? Why are you doing this?" Her eyes go to his chest and she makes that move again, like she might hit him, and then just grimaces instead. "And why don't you ever wear a fucking shirt?" Which doesn't seem to be related to anything.
"Don't fuckin' put words into my mouth," Ch'son rounds back on her, turning to face her more fully again. He looks truly angry now. And something else for a split second before it's covered by the anger. "Ain't puttin' nothin' on you. All my fuckin' fault, ain't it?" He's yelling now, hands gesturing with his words. "I don't want nothin'. I'm done. You go fuck the entire Weyr for all I care." He even sounds like he means it, though he probably doesn't. Not entirely. Her last comment confuses him enough to make him pause and stare at her, though.
There might just some extra punctuation to his last word. By the time Ch'son gets to 'care', Loe's aiming a slap for his face, not concerned at all if her palm happens to be heading for the bruised side. Despite her fuming expression and the quick angry pace of her breath, it's not a full wind-up sort of slap, but a quick, scolding one with no weight behind it. "Is that what you think? You think I'm just giving it up to everyone but you?"
The slap is enough to make him turn his head and it probably would be even if it weren't to the bruised side. Ch'son doesn't answer right away and it takes him a moment to turn his stormy blue gaze back toward her. "It don't matter what I think. It ain't my place t' think about it. Y've made /that/ perfectly sharding clear. Don't care if it's Hal or whoever the fuck else y' give it up to but I hope they make you happy." The growling sort of voice he uses says anything but the words that he's saying but he's not looking her in the face anymore, gaze drifting downward instead.
She meets his gaze, her mouth half open, ready for a reply, the edges of her teeth there like she might prefer to rip his throat out instead. "But that is what you think. It's not about me. It's not about whether or not I'm happy with whatever guy you -think-," sharp emphasis on the word, "I'm taking up with. You're just pissed because it's not you." Her lashes narrow further, sheilding the green of her eyes. It makes her words more measured, designed to hopefully break through angry dismissiveness. "Do you really think I haven't thought about it? Do you really think that I just don't want you? That I'm not attracted to you at all? You go on and on about how you want me until I have no choice!" Saying it incites her again and she balls up her fists. Maybe she recognizes that his gaze has drifted. Maybe that subconscious reminder is enough. She stops look at his face, too, her eyes meandering lower across that infurtiatingly naked chest in front of her.
"Fuck you. It's all about you. Everything I think about anymore is about you and I'm fuckin' done with it!" Ch'son's anger isn't all that dismissive at this point. It's quite focused on Loe, as is his gaze. And what she says doesn't disperse the feeling at all. If anything it makes him more tense. "Don't. I've been waitin' over a fuckin' turn for you t' make a choice so don't you dare tell me that you ain't got none." Of course, that might not be a wholly accurate account of time but it's not like he's going to do the math right now.
"Exactly!" Loe's voice raises, excitement and frustration as he puts his finger precisely on the problem without seeming to realize it. "What am I supposed to do? Every time I see you I have to fight to keep you from saying what you said. And I have to fight to ignore your stupid, stupid face and your stupid, stupid chest." She thumps her fist on him again, there on that stupid chest.
He still must not entirely get it because Ch'son's anger fades ever so slightly into confusion. Then it's back to anger. And then he's not really sure and his expression becomes more unreadable. "Said I'm done. You don't gotta worry about me sayin' nothin' no more." There's not much he can do about his stupid face or his stupid chest so he leaves those out of it.
"Fine Ch'son. Fine! If you could magically just not think you love me any more, that would be just great." Not that she actually seems to think this settles the matter in any way. There's no sign she believes it's even possible. "Then maybe we could have some interaction that isn't all about how much you think you love me when you really don't know shit about me and don't pay any attention to what I'm actually saying. Maybe you could be around me without it hanging over our heads like a big oppressive wet towel that makes it impossible for me to..." Loe's hands come up, fingers flexing, splayed in front of his chest then balled again. Exasperated, she hunts for the word, for the concept, and lands on: "For me to get through to you!"
"Didn't y' know?" Ch'son growls, sounding maybe even a little bitter about the whole thing now, "I'm a fuckin' magician." The bronzerider's gaze has lifted again to look her in the face if not quite in the eyes. But it's not because he doesn't want to meet them, not with the way his gaze lingers on her lips. "I don't need t' know shit about you t' know how I feel," he says, glancing up then. "And I ain't stupid enough t' think there won't always be something hanging over our heads. But if you can act like y' don't want nothin', then so can I."
It might be the way he's looking at her mouth, or maybe just the reluctant acceptance that feelings aren't always logical or sensible or even warranted, but Loe's lips move in little presses and twitches, tiny shifts that probably wouldn't be at all noticeable if someone wasn't, well, staring at them. "It -will- always be hanging over our head," she agrees. "It makes it impossible. You'll always be pissed at me for not loving you back. You'll never see anything else." She chews her lips and her hands ball up again, but there's no sign that she's about to hit him. At length, she sighs, and more reluctantly than anything else, she says, "I guess I'd rather have you screaming at me than giving me that look like I just killed your puppy." The look she's expecting now. "Because I can't touch that man."
"I ain't pissed at you," says the bronzerider with a small shake of his head. He closes his eyes, tight for a moment as he moves a hand to rub roughly over his face. The hand lingers, thumb and forefinger at his temples, then his other arm crosses over his chest and the first lowers to end up supporting his mouth against his knuckles. "I can deal with you not ever lovin' me or lettin' me between your legs. But I ain't gonna promise not t' punch your asshole 'friends' if they keep on my case." That's just not happening.
The skepticism in her eyes replaces just about everything else and Loe turns her head to the side, a cheek toward him as she gives him a sidelong look. "Vlad and Hal were on your case? I can't imagine either of them would have any reason to say anything. What could they have possibly said?" Meanwhile, she didn't miss that one line of his and recalling it a beat later has ruined what calm she's gained, inciting her fury once more. She lets out a riled scoff and wraps her fingers into fists again. "Between my legs! Are you even remotely aware that I have other body parts? I'm just a walking pussy?" This time when she steps in to shove at him, her hands aim for his crossed arms, since they're in the way of his chest. "And you think you're fucking in love with me? You make everything between us fucked up and you still think I'm just a piece of ass to be won." Okay, so that isn't what he said, really, but he still brought it up. And he seems to have struck a nerve with it. "Am I supposed to be satisfied that you'd -settle- for less than my fucking vagina? You should feel fucking lucky that I let you stand within arms reach of me!" Duh! She's ready to shove him again, too. Yay for arm's reach?
Ch'son doesn't even bother responding to the first part. It doesn't really matter now, does it? Maybe it just doesn't matter now to him. They've done their part in all of this mess. "If all I wanted was your fuckin' vagina, I either would've had it by now or I wouldn't be fuckin' standin' here listenin' to this! Everything between us bein' fucked up is /not/ just my fault, y' crazy bitch!" If Ch'son were a different man, he might shove her back. But he's not and he doesn't. He doesn't even seem to watch to touch her at all to keep her away from him now. "Fuck your vagina," he says as he backs toward the door. "Y' want me outta arms reach? Fine!" Which isn't what she said, either, but that's where he's headed, backing toward the door.
"Then why does it come up? Like it's there on your mind all the time?" She might not reach to stop him from heading for the door, but she's dogging his steps, giving him no extra space. "What? What am I supposed to do now, Ch'son? What? Ignore you? Let you run out of here? Let you make that dead puppy face every time I see you? Let you go off punching people who seem even remotely interested in me just because -you- don't hear a damn thing I say?" When close enough, she leans forward to reach past him and put a hand on the door, her weight behind it as if that's enough to stop him, enough to keep him from opening it. Yes it means she's close, and yes she's looking at his face now, determined to get an answer. "What do you want from me?"
"Because I'm a fucking guy!" Ch'son answers that, completely frustrated. When he reaches for the handle and she's trying to keep him from opening the door, he doesn't force it. "What're you tryin' t' tell me that I ain't hearin', huh? That y' want me t' be your fuckin' gelding? That ain't gonna happen, Loe. Not with me. Not with no one else. I don't care what y' do now but I'm pretty sure it ain't gonna have nothin' t' do with me." He's trying not to just be plain angry but it's hard. "I dunno. I dunno what I want anymore. Nothin' you wanna give, aye?" He shakes his head and lifts his other hand toward the center of her chest to push her back away from him.
"That's it not me," Loe growls back, any attempt to control her anger just makes it come out more focused, more intense. Of course, those words probably aren't answer that will give him the shining light of understanding. "I'm not the one asking you to be a fucking gelding. I don't want you to be a fucking gelding." The hand not on the door comes up to grab his wrist when he lays his hand on her chest. Her fingers are tight, useless but tight, and they aren't pushing his hand away. The only distance put between them is from his own push. "You're supposed to be a fucking stallion. I want to know how to give you your fucking balls back."
"My balls're just fuckin' fine, woman," he tells her like he's irritated she's talking about them at all. But it's probably for a very different reason than why she gets mad about him talking about her... assets. "You confuse the fuck outta me," he tells her but the hand on the handle of the door lets go and then it's there on her wrist as he tries to switch their positions around and put her back against the door instead. If he manages to get that far, he's leaning in to kiss her whether she likes it or not!
There's a confused gasp when he takes her wrist and start to spin her around, her eyes wide with surprise. The bump of her weight hitting the door is probably enough to make a passerby in the hall blink, and Loe lets out a grunt to find herself making that sort of contact. There's just a flash of narrowed challenge in her eyes, like how dare he, but it only lasts until she recognizes what he means to do. When he leans, her face lifts up because this time, whether he likes it or not, she's kissing him back, no uncertain brush of her lips either. Her kiss is as hungry as it is angry and frustrated, parted lips pressing hard. And that hand lets go of his wrist to grab him around the back of the neck instead.
It's probably not the reaction that Ch'son expected to get out of her but damned if he doesn't like it. A lot. There's no hesitation to keep going. If anything it just makes him press back as hard as she does. He rumbles a heated sound and lets go of her wrist to try moving his hand around her instead, keeping her close even if he makes sure there's not a whole lot of distance left between them anyway. Maybe enough that she doesn't realize just how much he likes this turn of events, maybe not.
She's willing to be pried off the door, not afraid to press against him instead when he puts that arm around her. Her newly freed hand comes up to catch his jaw, no light touch but as if she means to be grabbing his face as well as his neck. It just makes easier for Loe to kiss him harder for another few seconds before she pulls her head back. The heavy rise and fall of chest happens against him and she stares at him with her lips open and her eyes narrow, lashes hiding whatever is going on behind her gaze. "This is not a good idea," she tells him, more breath than voice.
She pulls her head back and his attention just focuses lower. Ch'son tilts his head to continue a line of kisses along her neck to her collar bone and he might even go lower than that but her breath makes him lift his head again and look at her. "Why not?" he asks because, well, from his point of view, this might be the best idea they've had for awhile.
Loe seems to have left her fury behind in that kiss and while she's still tense against him, there's a bit of acquiesence in the way she tips her head to the side to let his mouth at her skin. "Does this give you your balls back?" she asks, her lashes fluttering faintly as she tries to think through the feel of his mouth. "Or does this just make it worse?" The hand on the back of his neck stays there, but the other slips down his throat to his chest, not to push, just to feel him.
"What'd be worse? To you. Think my balls're fine." He talks between kisses before finally drawing his head back entirely but not letting go of his hold around her just yet. Ch'son is breathing a little harder than he was before this all started and when her hand touches his chest, the muscles flex beneath as he moves the hand that's not holding her to rest against the wall.
"Gelding," Loe tells, lifting her head, holding his gaze with her own. There's a warning in her eyes. "Gelding would be worse. You're not supposed to be a fucking gelding, Chaes. You're not supposed to feel jealous over lousy rumors. You're not supposed to storm off when I tease you. You're not supposed to be a gelding." Both her hands are on his chest now as she sinks back onto her heels, putting just a fraction of space between their bodies. She lifts her hands and replaces them again, something more than a pat, something meant to fortify, to feel. She bows her head, her face so close to his skin, and breathes out, a hot wash over the middle of his chest. "Don't be a gelding."
"I ain't a gelding. I'm a fuckin' bronzerider 'n I can have whatever the fuck I want." Ch'son grins, thinking back on that particular conversation that he's not quoting verbatim at the moment. Same idea, though, right? He doesn't try to keep the lack of space between them, instead tilting his head to look at her, watching her curiously. "So they're just rumors?" Because maybe he didn't quite get that earlier. "And you shouldn't tease stallions." This analogy amuses him. He can't help it.
His words, the smile she can hear in them even without looking up, has a smirk spreading over Loe's lips. The first one since he walked in the door. When he peeks at her, she's peeking back at him, trying to hold back a that wry, pleased grin and failing quite completely. It makes her eyes bright, a game gleaming into reality there in the way she looks at him. She lifts her head, her expression at ease now, reflecting his amusement back at him. "What have you heard?" She doesn't seem worried.
The fact that Loe is more at ease now puts the bronzerider more at ease, too. Almost comfortable, even, when he says, "Vladilen said I should be interested in you 'n Hal." Or something along those lines. That's how he's remembering at least. "Hal." That's a little more tough. He shrugs. "He wasn't actin' like you was very important. Said you were good, though. I got carried away, the way he was talkin' about you. Like you were just some vagina t' get his dick wet." Since that seems to be the running terminology tonight.
"Vlad said you should be interested?" She cocks a brow at him but doesn't see any reason to beleive he's making that up. "Think about it, Chaes. Why would Vlad say that? If he gave a shit about who I was was with, do you think he'd be talking to you about it or do you think he'd just come be an enormous pain in my ass himself?" It makes Loe smirk at him, shaking her head. "I think you got played." But she's slide her hands over his chest as a consolation prize. "Anyway, he hasn't. Hal." Her attention drops again to the muscle under her touch, fingers smoothing over his skin. "I suppose a stallion does have the impulse to respond to threats, whether they're real or not," she chuckles, her voice low and richly amused.
"Because he's an asshole and likes t' see me pissed off." Chaes is a guy. He's probably done the same thing to some other guy in the past. That doesn't mean it doesn't piss him off. But he's over it for the moment. Hopefully forever. Until he has another reason at some point in the future. "'course he does. And it don't even mean he thinks the girl can't take care of herself." He can't quite bring himself to call Loe a mare, apparently.
Loe gives a nod for Ch'son's explanation of what actually happened with Vlad. "Are you going to go hit him again?" She asks the bare chest, letting her finger drum in tap-tap-tap-tap mirror images of each other. Then they slide downward, down his ribs to his stomach where her hands slip out to the sides of his waist. "Because I'd rather you didn't." Her eyes flick up to his again, one eyebrow arched. "You should probably consider ignoring what people say. They're all full of shit. What does a stallion care if they need to wag their tongues"
"If he's askin' for it, I might." At least he's honest? Ch'son shakes his head, though, then he's all distracted by her hands and it takes him a moment to make some sort of affirmative sound. "Didn't hit Vlad again. Or are you askin' me not t' hit, Hal, too? Cause I think he was really askin' for it." Then he lets out a so very put upon sigh, the hand at her back tightens slightly, and he says, "I won't go hittin' anyone for your sake no more. How about that?"
"If he's asking for it..." Loe starts to smirk, a slow twist curling at the corner of her mouth. She lets the weight sink into one hip, which swings it toward him a little and makes her back curve under his hand. "Then I guess I can't stop you. But try to give the poor boys a little warning first, huh?" It sounds like it might be... something like permission. Under certain circumstances. "I think maybe... I should be getting back to my work. Do you think, maybe..." She lets her eyes sweep down to his chest and back up again, exceedingly coy with her wry little smile and the softness of her words. "You and I could spend another night at the Seven some time? Playing cards?"
"Think I might be able t' arrange that. Assumin' they want me back in there anytime soon." It does seem like Ch'son has been causing his share of trouble in there lately. About the other boys, though, he doesn't offer much in the way of, well, anything. If they're going to push his buttons, they can learn the hard way that it's not a very smart thing to do. The bronzerider lets her go entirely finally and glances at the door. "I'll see you around, I guess," he says, then nods his head, clears his throat and moves to make his way out.
"Yeah," Loe says, her grin getting wider, wide enough that it can't be called a smirk anymore. It's still a quiet sort of thing, bright but private. "I'll see you around." She gives him a little tug toward her before his hands drift away and she lets her own follow suit. As soon as his back is turned and she makes a curious face to some imaginary person beside her. How the hell did this visit turn out like this? That's what the face says. And then a shrug of response says all's well the ends well. Except maybe the face isn't quite done being curious.
It is a spring night, 23:18 of day 21, month 5, turn 22 of Interval 10.
Ch'son arrives and Loe turns her attention on him. In split-second it takes her, it's clear sharpness of her eyes and the tight, downturned line of her mouth that she is not happen. A flash of a step brings her toward him and she reaches for his wrist in an attempt to yank him into the room and shut the door behind him.
"Hey, now," Ch'son says as she's trying to yank him into the room so she can shut the door. He lets her, of course, or at least doesn't try to keep her from doing it, but now he's watching her with his own brows furrowed slightly. "Can y' just say whatever y' need t' say 'n get it over with?" He sounds vaguely dismissive. He hasn't done anything wrong, after all. According to him.
Loe lets go of his wrist as soon as he's in the room, as soon as there's space to get the door closed behind him. It doesn't shut with it's usual quiet click, either. The short reverberation of her slamming it closed just further emphasizes that dark expression she wears. She turns to him, glaring. But she doesn't yell, she doesn't scream. It's a low growl. "What the fuck?" Her lip curls, a soundless snarl.
Ch'son isn't going to come in and make himself comfortable, of course, but he probably doesn't look as defensive as he ought to look considering he must have some idea of what has her upset. Pissed off. Whatever she is. "What?" he asks again. "He fuckin' asked for it."
"You think you have some right to just punch anyone who you even -think- has looked sideways at me? Did you even think to ask me if I needed defending?" Loe's brows are pulled hard together, a hard fire in her eyes. She steps forward to shove at his chest with both hands. "What the fuck?"
"Yeah," Ch'son says, but this time he raises his voice. Not quite yelling, not /quite/ angry yet, but a lot more firm. "I think I got every right t' punch the assholes you got sniffin' around you. Don't know what you're playin' at with that shady bastard, but y' deserve a fuck of a lot better 'n him." The shove she aims at his chest makes him step back but there's nothing backing down in his expression or demeanor.
"Why?" Loe spits back when he makes that claim, moving to shove him again in quick succession. "What gives you the right? You think he's the only guy who's ever hit on me? Do you want a list? You want a list of every guy?" By now her hands have balled into fists. And if she were a tough, rough'n tumble sort of girl, maybe she'd use them for punching, but instead she just swings them at him overhanded. "You didn't tell me -I- was the girl you were supposedly defending." Beat, beat, beat. "What is wrong with you?"
"I know he ain't the only guy that's hit on you. Half the fuckin' Weyr probably has. But you ain't fuckin' around with half the Weyr, Loe, are you?" Ch'son deflects some of her swinging and then he's reaching to grasp one of her forearms to jerk her closer to him with his own growl, grip maybe a little on the slightly too tight end of the spectrum. "/You're/ what's wrong with me. /You./" Emphasized by a slight shake.
Loe grunts, maybe just for being caught and unable to continue her fist-thumping, maybe because that catching grasp is tighter than she expects. She jerks at his hold, as much to pull away as to try to hit him again. "You're insane. What makes you think I'm doing anything with Hal? You had no right to hit Vlad either." She continues to seethe. The hand he hasn't caught keeps up with the pitiful ineffectual hitting, just exclamation points on her words. Not that the fist lands softly. At least his shake shuts her up for a second. She glares up at him, at his mouth. Then she growls back, "You're not the only guy that wants me. Control yourself." Though such cruel words probably don't help.
"I love you," Ch'son says but the way he says it makes it sound like he's angry about it. At this point, maybe he is. "Don't matter what makes me think what I think. If Hal's lyin' about it, then he fuckin' deserved it just as well. Vlad, too." It's the last that makes him go quiet, makes his hand flex where he's holding her arm like he's not entirely sure what to do with her. In the end he doesn't do anything but say, "I have been." With her, at any rate.
She might be doing the hitting, lousy as it may be, but with those three words Loe is the one who exhales a shuddering breath as though she's just been punched in the gut. Her lashes flutter as she stares at his neck; it's much safer than looking at his face. "Why would you say that?" she says, barely shaking her head, as if this was some particularly low blow that she can't quite believe he'd stoop to. Her glance snaps back up, though, wary and hard. "Why would you say that?"
The grip on her arm loosens finally, then drops away. Chaes' expression hasn't gotten any happier about any of this. Actually probably more angry. He lifts his hands in some gesture of surrender or something, then takes a step back. "It's true. It's true and I fuckin' wish it wasn't." He shakes his head, shifts like he might head back to the door but he doesn't make any move to actually open it. "I wish--" But he doesn't finish. Maybe he's not sure what he wishes.
Loe's hand jerks away when he releases her, but now she can't bring herself to pound her fists on him again. He might as well have a bubble of i-love-you all around him; she doesn't dare touch him. "Who do you think I am, Ch'son? Who? Tell me? Who is this person that you're in love with?" Her eyes cut to the door, then back to him. "Don't you dare," she warns against that impulse he has to run away whenever things get ugly.
"You," Ch'son begins, only turning back partially as he continues, "You're prob'ly the one woman in this entire fuckin' Weyr that I should wanna stay as far the fuck away from as I can. Y' get off on business and y' probably only put up with any of us at all cause that's the only way y' can get what y' actually want." It probably doesn't matter to him whether or not that's accurate. "Just tell me t' leave and I'll leave. Cause /this/ ain't what I want."
"I'm the worst possible choice and so you love me?" It sounds ridiculous to Loe and so it sound ridiculous coming out of her mouth. His poise to head for the door isn't lost on her. "No, if you want to leave, if you want to come in here and say that and make things as weird and miserable and stupid as possible and then walk out, that's going to be on you. You don't get to put that on me. I'm not the one fucking everything up." She looks a bit like she might want to hit him again, but that bubble is still in place. "What -do- you want? Why are you doing this?" Her eyes go to his chest and she makes that move again, like she might hit him, and then just grimaces instead. "And why don't you ever wear a fucking shirt?" Which doesn't seem to be related to anything.
"Don't fuckin' put words into my mouth," Ch'son rounds back on her, turning to face her more fully again. He looks truly angry now. And something else for a split second before it's covered by the anger. "Ain't puttin' nothin' on you. All my fuckin' fault, ain't it?" He's yelling now, hands gesturing with his words. "I don't want nothin'. I'm done. You go fuck the entire Weyr for all I care." He even sounds like he means it, though he probably doesn't. Not entirely. Her last comment confuses him enough to make him pause and stare at her, though.
There might just some extra punctuation to his last word. By the time Ch'son gets to 'care', Loe's aiming a slap for his face, not concerned at all if her palm happens to be heading for the bruised side. Despite her fuming expression and the quick angry pace of her breath, it's not a full wind-up sort of slap, but a quick, scolding one with no weight behind it. "Is that what you think? You think I'm just giving it up to everyone but you?"
The slap is enough to make him turn his head and it probably would be even if it weren't to the bruised side. Ch'son doesn't answer right away and it takes him a moment to turn his stormy blue gaze back toward her. "It don't matter what I think. It ain't my place t' think about it. Y've made /that/ perfectly sharding clear. Don't care if it's Hal or whoever the fuck else y' give it up to but I hope they make you happy." The growling sort of voice he uses says anything but the words that he's saying but he's not looking her in the face anymore, gaze drifting downward instead.
She meets his gaze, her mouth half open, ready for a reply, the edges of her teeth there like she might prefer to rip his throat out instead. "But that is what you think. It's not about me. It's not about whether or not I'm happy with whatever guy you -think-," sharp emphasis on the word, "I'm taking up with. You're just pissed because it's not you." Her lashes narrow further, sheilding the green of her eyes. It makes her words more measured, designed to hopefully break through angry dismissiveness. "Do you really think I haven't thought about it? Do you really think that I just don't want you? That I'm not attracted to you at all? You go on and on about how you want me until I have no choice!" Saying it incites her again and she balls up her fists. Maybe she recognizes that his gaze has drifted. Maybe that subconscious reminder is enough. She stops look at his face, too, her eyes meandering lower across that infurtiatingly naked chest in front of her.
"Fuck you. It's all about you. Everything I think about anymore is about you and I'm fuckin' done with it!" Ch'son's anger isn't all that dismissive at this point. It's quite focused on Loe, as is his gaze. And what she says doesn't disperse the feeling at all. If anything it makes him more tense. "Don't. I've been waitin' over a fuckin' turn for you t' make a choice so don't you dare tell me that you ain't got none." Of course, that might not be a wholly accurate account of time but it's not like he's going to do the math right now.
"Exactly!" Loe's voice raises, excitement and frustration as he puts his finger precisely on the problem without seeming to realize it. "What am I supposed to do? Every time I see you I have to fight to keep you from saying what you said. And I have to fight to ignore your stupid, stupid face and your stupid, stupid chest." She thumps her fist on him again, there on that stupid chest.
He still must not entirely get it because Ch'son's anger fades ever so slightly into confusion. Then it's back to anger. And then he's not really sure and his expression becomes more unreadable. "Said I'm done. You don't gotta worry about me sayin' nothin' no more." There's not much he can do about his stupid face or his stupid chest so he leaves those out of it.
"Fine Ch'son. Fine! If you could magically just not think you love me any more, that would be just great." Not that she actually seems to think this settles the matter in any way. There's no sign she believes it's even possible. "Then maybe we could have some interaction that isn't all about how much you think you love me when you really don't know shit about me and don't pay any attention to what I'm actually saying. Maybe you could be around me without it hanging over our heads like a big oppressive wet towel that makes it impossible for me to..." Loe's hands come up, fingers flexing, splayed in front of his chest then balled again. Exasperated, she hunts for the word, for the concept, and lands on: "For me to get through to you!"
"Didn't y' know?" Ch'son growls, sounding maybe even a little bitter about the whole thing now, "I'm a fuckin' magician." The bronzerider's gaze has lifted again to look her in the face if not quite in the eyes. But it's not because he doesn't want to meet them, not with the way his gaze lingers on her lips. "I don't need t' know shit about you t' know how I feel," he says, glancing up then. "And I ain't stupid enough t' think there won't always be something hanging over our heads. But if you can act like y' don't want nothin', then so can I."
It might be the way he's looking at her mouth, or maybe just the reluctant acceptance that feelings aren't always logical or sensible or even warranted, but Loe's lips move in little presses and twitches, tiny shifts that probably wouldn't be at all noticeable if someone wasn't, well, staring at them. "It -will- always be hanging over our head," she agrees. "It makes it impossible. You'll always be pissed at me for not loving you back. You'll never see anything else." She chews her lips and her hands ball up again, but there's no sign that she's about to hit him. At length, she sighs, and more reluctantly than anything else, she says, "I guess I'd rather have you screaming at me than giving me that look like I just killed your puppy." The look she's expecting now. "Because I can't touch that man."
"I ain't pissed at you," says the bronzerider with a small shake of his head. He closes his eyes, tight for a moment as he moves a hand to rub roughly over his face. The hand lingers, thumb and forefinger at his temples, then his other arm crosses over his chest and the first lowers to end up supporting his mouth against his knuckles. "I can deal with you not ever lovin' me or lettin' me between your legs. But I ain't gonna promise not t' punch your asshole 'friends' if they keep on my case." That's just not happening.
The skepticism in her eyes replaces just about everything else and Loe turns her head to the side, a cheek toward him as she gives him a sidelong look. "Vlad and Hal were on your case? I can't imagine either of them would have any reason to say anything. What could they have possibly said?" Meanwhile, she didn't miss that one line of his and recalling it a beat later has ruined what calm she's gained, inciting her fury once more. She lets out a riled scoff and wraps her fingers into fists again. "Between my legs! Are you even remotely aware that I have other body parts? I'm just a walking pussy?" This time when she steps in to shove at him, her hands aim for his crossed arms, since they're in the way of his chest. "And you think you're fucking in love with me? You make everything between us fucked up and you still think I'm just a piece of ass to be won." Okay, so that isn't what he said, really, but he still brought it up. And he seems to have struck a nerve with it. "Am I supposed to be satisfied that you'd -settle- for less than my fucking vagina? You should feel fucking lucky that I let you stand within arms reach of me!" Duh! She's ready to shove him again, too. Yay for arm's reach?
Ch'son doesn't even bother responding to the first part. It doesn't really matter now, does it? Maybe it just doesn't matter now to him. They've done their part in all of this mess. "If all I wanted was your fuckin' vagina, I either would've had it by now or I wouldn't be fuckin' standin' here listenin' to this! Everything between us bein' fucked up is /not/ just my fault, y' crazy bitch!" If Ch'son were a different man, he might shove her back. But he's not and he doesn't. He doesn't even seem to watch to touch her at all to keep her away from him now. "Fuck your vagina," he says as he backs toward the door. "Y' want me outta arms reach? Fine!" Which isn't what she said, either, but that's where he's headed, backing toward the door.
"Then why does it come up? Like it's there on your mind all the time?" She might not reach to stop him from heading for the door, but she's dogging his steps, giving him no extra space. "What? What am I supposed to do now, Ch'son? What? Ignore you? Let you run out of here? Let you make that dead puppy face every time I see you? Let you go off punching people who seem even remotely interested in me just because -you- don't hear a damn thing I say?" When close enough, she leans forward to reach past him and put a hand on the door, her weight behind it as if that's enough to stop him, enough to keep him from opening it. Yes it means she's close, and yes she's looking at his face now, determined to get an answer. "What do you want from me?"
"Because I'm a fucking guy!" Ch'son answers that, completely frustrated. When he reaches for the handle and she's trying to keep him from opening the door, he doesn't force it. "What're you tryin' t' tell me that I ain't hearin', huh? That y' want me t' be your fuckin' gelding? That ain't gonna happen, Loe. Not with me. Not with no one else. I don't care what y' do now but I'm pretty sure it ain't gonna have nothin' t' do with me." He's trying not to just be plain angry but it's hard. "I dunno. I dunno what I want anymore. Nothin' you wanna give, aye?" He shakes his head and lifts his other hand toward the center of her chest to push her back away from him.
"That's it not me," Loe growls back, any attempt to control her anger just makes it come out more focused, more intense. Of course, those words probably aren't answer that will give him the shining light of understanding. "I'm not the one asking you to be a fucking gelding. I don't want you to be a fucking gelding." The hand not on the door comes up to grab his wrist when he lays his hand on her chest. Her fingers are tight, useless but tight, and they aren't pushing his hand away. The only distance put between them is from his own push. "You're supposed to be a fucking stallion. I want to know how to give you your fucking balls back."
"My balls're just fuckin' fine, woman," he tells her like he's irritated she's talking about them at all. But it's probably for a very different reason than why she gets mad about him talking about her... assets. "You confuse the fuck outta me," he tells her but the hand on the handle of the door lets go and then it's there on her wrist as he tries to switch their positions around and put her back against the door instead. If he manages to get that far, he's leaning in to kiss her whether she likes it or not!
There's a confused gasp when he takes her wrist and start to spin her around, her eyes wide with surprise. The bump of her weight hitting the door is probably enough to make a passerby in the hall blink, and Loe lets out a grunt to find herself making that sort of contact. There's just a flash of narrowed challenge in her eyes, like how dare he, but it only lasts until she recognizes what he means to do. When he leans, her face lifts up because this time, whether he likes it or not, she's kissing him back, no uncertain brush of her lips either. Her kiss is as hungry as it is angry and frustrated, parted lips pressing hard. And that hand lets go of his wrist to grab him around the back of the neck instead.
It's probably not the reaction that Ch'son expected to get out of her but damned if he doesn't like it. A lot. There's no hesitation to keep going. If anything it just makes him press back as hard as she does. He rumbles a heated sound and lets go of her wrist to try moving his hand around her instead, keeping her close even if he makes sure there's not a whole lot of distance left between them anyway. Maybe enough that she doesn't realize just how much he likes this turn of events, maybe not.
She's willing to be pried off the door, not afraid to press against him instead when he puts that arm around her. Her newly freed hand comes up to catch his jaw, no light touch but as if she means to be grabbing his face as well as his neck. It just makes easier for Loe to kiss him harder for another few seconds before she pulls her head back. The heavy rise and fall of chest happens against him and she stares at him with her lips open and her eyes narrow, lashes hiding whatever is going on behind her gaze. "This is not a good idea," she tells him, more breath than voice.
She pulls her head back and his attention just focuses lower. Ch'son tilts his head to continue a line of kisses along her neck to her collar bone and he might even go lower than that but her breath makes him lift his head again and look at her. "Why not?" he asks because, well, from his point of view, this might be the best idea they've had for awhile.
Loe seems to have left her fury behind in that kiss and while she's still tense against him, there's a bit of acquiesence in the way she tips her head to the side to let his mouth at her skin. "Does this give you your balls back?" she asks, her lashes fluttering faintly as she tries to think through the feel of his mouth. "Or does this just make it worse?" The hand on the back of his neck stays there, but the other slips down his throat to his chest, not to push, just to feel him.
"What'd be worse? To you. Think my balls're fine." He talks between kisses before finally drawing his head back entirely but not letting go of his hold around her just yet. Ch'son is breathing a little harder than he was before this all started and when her hand touches his chest, the muscles flex beneath as he moves the hand that's not holding her to rest against the wall.
"Gelding," Loe tells, lifting her head, holding his gaze with her own. There's a warning in her eyes. "Gelding would be worse. You're not supposed to be a fucking gelding, Chaes. You're not supposed to feel jealous over lousy rumors. You're not supposed to storm off when I tease you. You're not supposed to be a gelding." Both her hands are on his chest now as she sinks back onto her heels, putting just a fraction of space between their bodies. She lifts her hands and replaces them again, something more than a pat, something meant to fortify, to feel. She bows her head, her face so close to his skin, and breathes out, a hot wash over the middle of his chest. "Don't be a gelding."
"I ain't a gelding. I'm a fuckin' bronzerider 'n I can have whatever the fuck I want." Ch'son grins, thinking back on that particular conversation that he's not quoting verbatim at the moment. Same idea, though, right? He doesn't try to keep the lack of space between them, instead tilting his head to look at her, watching her curiously. "So they're just rumors?" Because maybe he didn't quite get that earlier. "And you shouldn't tease stallions." This analogy amuses him. He can't help it.
His words, the smile she can hear in them even without looking up, has a smirk spreading over Loe's lips. The first one since he walked in the door. When he peeks at her, she's peeking back at him, trying to hold back a that wry, pleased grin and failing quite completely. It makes her eyes bright, a game gleaming into reality there in the way she looks at him. She lifts her head, her expression at ease now, reflecting his amusement back at him. "What have you heard?" She doesn't seem worried.
The fact that Loe is more at ease now puts the bronzerider more at ease, too. Almost comfortable, even, when he says, "Vladilen said I should be interested in you 'n Hal." Or something along those lines. That's how he's remembering at least. "Hal." That's a little more tough. He shrugs. "He wasn't actin' like you was very important. Said you were good, though. I got carried away, the way he was talkin' about you. Like you were just some vagina t' get his dick wet." Since that seems to be the running terminology tonight.
"Vlad said you should be interested?" She cocks a brow at him but doesn't see any reason to beleive he's making that up. "Think about it, Chaes. Why would Vlad say that? If he gave a shit about who I was was with, do you think he'd be talking to you about it or do you think he'd just come be an enormous pain in my ass himself?" It makes Loe smirk at him, shaking her head. "I think you got played." But she's slide her hands over his chest as a consolation prize. "Anyway, he hasn't. Hal." Her attention drops again to the muscle under her touch, fingers smoothing over his skin. "I suppose a stallion does have the impulse to respond to threats, whether they're real or not," she chuckles, her voice low and richly amused.
"Because he's an asshole and likes t' see me pissed off." Chaes is a guy. He's probably done the same thing to some other guy in the past. That doesn't mean it doesn't piss him off. But he's over it for the moment. Hopefully forever. Until he has another reason at some point in the future. "'course he does. And it don't even mean he thinks the girl can't take care of herself." He can't quite bring himself to call Loe a mare, apparently.
Loe gives a nod for Ch'son's explanation of what actually happened with Vlad. "Are you going to go hit him again?" She asks the bare chest, letting her finger drum in tap-tap-tap-tap mirror images of each other. Then they slide downward, down his ribs to his stomach where her hands slip out to the sides of his waist. "Because I'd rather you didn't." Her eyes flick up to his again, one eyebrow arched. "You should probably consider ignoring what people say. They're all full of shit. What does a stallion care if they need to wag their tongues"
"If he's askin' for it, I might." At least he's honest? Ch'son shakes his head, though, then he's all distracted by her hands and it takes him a moment to make some sort of affirmative sound. "Didn't hit Vlad again. Or are you askin' me not t' hit, Hal, too? Cause I think he was really askin' for it." Then he lets out a so very put upon sigh, the hand at her back tightens slightly, and he says, "I won't go hittin' anyone for your sake no more. How about that?"
"If he's asking for it..." Loe starts to smirk, a slow twist curling at the corner of her mouth. She lets the weight sink into one hip, which swings it toward him a little and makes her back curve under his hand. "Then I guess I can't stop you. But try to give the poor boys a little warning first, huh?" It sounds like it might be... something like permission. Under certain circumstances. "I think maybe... I should be getting back to my work. Do you think, maybe..." She lets her eyes sweep down to his chest and back up again, exceedingly coy with her wry little smile and the softness of her words. "You and I could spend another night at the Seven some time? Playing cards?"
"Think I might be able t' arrange that. Assumin' they want me back in there anytime soon." It does seem like Ch'son has been causing his share of trouble in there lately. About the other boys, though, he doesn't offer much in the way of, well, anything. If they're going to push his buttons, they can learn the hard way that it's not a very smart thing to do. The bronzerider lets her go entirely finally and glances at the door. "I'll see you around, I guess," he says, then nods his head, clears his throat and moves to make his way out.
"Yeah," Loe says, her grin getting wider, wide enough that it can't be called a smirk anymore. It's still a quiet sort of thing, bright but private. "I'll see you around." She gives him a little tug toward her before his hands drift away and she lets her own follow suit. As soon as his back is turned and she makes a curious face to some imaginary person beside her. How the hell did this visit turn out like this? That's what the face says. And then a shrug of response says all's well the ends well. Except maybe the face isn't quite done being curious.
It is a spring night, 23:18 of day 21, month 5, turn 22 of Interval 10.