Wednesday, December 14th, The Midnight Channel

[thepull_mods]

Who: The Port's Latest Shadow Televisions Stars! And Thousands of Home Viewers!
When: Midnight, Wednesday December 14th
Where: In front of your Television Sets or Streaming NV TV. (Digital Cable? You'll still get the analog effect.)
Summary: Full Plot Details Here
Warnings: Please Put 'em In the Subject Lines As Necessary, Kids?

Comments

[gaveherwings]

It bothers me, sometimes. [He sighs, not letting go, rubbing at Franz's arm. It's unsettled him for a long time, in fact.]

It really bothers me, that the human effort of supportive work is overlooked. In Romdeau, until Cogito, it was easy to overlook it- autoreiv work. Menial. Service positions. We siphoned off all the humanity out of it, so that all citizens could be rewarded for their meaningful contributions, with leisure time.

And with the Autoreiv uprising, nothing worked. Everything fell apart.

But before there were entourage- today, where all of those jobs are done by people, a sustained population of Nurses, Orderlies. [Gilbert springs to mind, beside his concern for Franz.] Servants... Personal assistants. It bothers me, because it takes so much of the stress that goes on you, for granted.

Sorry....before you think I'm just babbling- What I'm getting at is, running around and worrying about everyone else's trouble is something that should hold more valid meaning. Be appreciated. I don't mean getting a raise in salary (though that's certainly not out of the question, but-)

No one should take advantage of you, to the point where you desperately need a little more fun.

What I'm saying is- [He pulls back just far enough to peer at his boyfriend's eyes.] I think it's perfectly justified to want to take more time for yourself. Do something novel, and interesting, just for you and no one else.

[hisdiscretion]

I don't want to be some promiscuous man-loving fop who just sleeps with anyone, though. That isn't me. [The words are ugly, and Franz looks startled to have said them. They've left a bad taste in his mouth. What the hell has this strange vision turned him into?

Something for myself. And he thinks of that hazelnut coffee - no, best not to.]

I'm sorry, I didn't... I don't know what's come over me. My head is spinning. I feel like I might throw up.

[He breaks away from the embrace reluctantly to drink more water.]

[gaveherwings]

You don't 'just sleep with anyone'! [Daedalus insists with a certain fierceness about his tone this time, something defensive, a little annoyed.

He doesn't want to think of himself as 'just anyone'- nevermind that they opened their relationship with wanton promiscuity, after not spending so much casual, patient time together as most ideal couples seem to spend before sexual activity.]

But there's nothing wrong with loving a man. [For the hundredth time-] Or even more than one- provided you mind your health and their history, but that goes for any kind of sexual coupling in this place.

[What's more concerning is how this happened, than the content.]

Breathe, Franz. I know it's upsetting you, but...you're getting so wound up about this that it's making you feel sick.

[hisdiscretion]

I'm sorry. [He doesn't know what else to say, how else to deal with this right now. Everything is a jumble in his head, and he knows it must not make sense to anyone how vulnerable and horrid this situation makes him feel.]

Go on to bed, we were half asleep anyway. I need some time alone.

[gaveherwings]

There's nothing to apologize for. [Daedalus tells him, giving both hands a squeeze before stepping back. He's good about giving physical space, when it's asked for, and pauses only in the threshold of the bedroom.]

Don't sit up half the night thinking about this, okay? We'll find out what's going on in the morning.

[hisdiscretion]

I won't. I just need to think.

[And once he's sure that Daedalus is in the bedroom with the door closed behind him, Franz quietly pours himself a glass of brandy and sits in their beloved breakfast nook, thinking about darkness and doors and windows shielded with steel, and a person who wore his face and seemed just a little too close to home.]