psychoshenanigans | GRATIA // PSL

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GRATIA // PSL

The first thing he feels is the cold.

It permeates everything down here on the lower levels. What little warmth humans have made for themselves is greedily gobbled up by the stone walls that surround them on all sides. Despite the stirring of people in the streets, in their homes, and around corners, this place feels like a grave. A similar sense seems to loom over the heads of most who make their way through this deep, dark part of the world, hovering around them like a cloud of inevitability. No one has been outright sentenced to death, but they may as well be.

Upon waking, Tek will have found himself in a dark, wet alleyway. Attempts to orient himself reveal that he has been brought, somehow, to an impressively large network of tunnels that all lead, more or less, to three or four larger chambers. There is far more vibrant life above him somewhere, far, far above the layer of caves he's in now, and there is also a very deep, sluggish form of life somewhere far below his feet.

No one is coming to get him. No one follows him in his immediate vicinity--the few stragglers hanging around doorsteps and windows don't give him a second glance, or even a first one. The place is crowded, but not busy. Everyone keeps their heads down. The people are all dressed poorly, in rags and robes and bundles that suggest a certain level of consistent poverty all throughout the level. The buildings in these tunnels look man-made, either built from scrap or carved straight out of the rock of the cave, but the majority of the actual roads and cave walls seem to have been formed with very little help from human hands.

The place is lit with lanterns and dirty-looking florescents suspended high above in the cave ceiling. The air is thick and stuffy, the smell of mold and mud prevalent over even the smell of human stagnation. It would not be hard to drag someone off, and he gets the immediate feeling that if he did, it's unlikely that anyone would come looking for them.

What does he do?

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Oh, I suppose...

[he rolls his eyes, but there is absolutely no irritation in it. if he's judging anything, it's his own life and his own poor choices. and he can't really call them poor, since this is likely a day he'll remember for the rest of his life. just like the last two.]

But I don't really regret it, dear.

[finally settling down, he props his chin up on his hand to fix Tek with another half-smile.]

[normally, these soft lulls with that sort of look attached has Tek dodging away or changing the rules of the game as a strategic move. it's usually a defensive impulse that has him scheming and moving somewhere else.

right now, all that has been softened. visible gears still begin to turn as soon as Tonic fixes him with a smile, but it's only because this seems like the time for a fun idea.

smirking when a thought does form, he holds out his hand without explanation, motioning for one of Tonic's.]

[and this breath of space is normally where Tonic reassesses, calculates, and raises his defenses against anything too meaningful. this is where he would step away, leave the subject on the table, happy to let it sit as a good memory without giving the passage of time any more chance to ruin it.

maybe it's the rush of endorphins from laughing, or maybe it's the way he thinks the other's hand will feel against his own, or maybe he's just too worn down to be afraid anymore... but after a brief moment of thought (brief for Tonic, anyway), he reaches out to give Tek his better hand.]

[his smirk doesn't widen in the dangerous way that it usually does, but it does edge toward being self-satisfied. he knows how skittish and careful the other tends to be, so he's quite proud of himself that he's still managing to be the exception to the rule.

he always finds it flattering and funny when he's trusted. he doesn't want to punish it in this case, though.

taking Tonic's hand, he wraps it kindly in both of his, very doting about the whole thing. he doesn't let the moment hang with any more weight than he means to--immediately beginning to feel the soft places between his companion's knuckles, and moving to pinch lightly at the muscles under his thumb.]

I'd just been wondering, with all the craftwork you do, if you're the sort to carry tension in your hands.

[he's also wondering if Tonic is the sort to tolerate a hand massage, and he's very curious to know what it's like under the effects of this particular drug. it's maybe a little bit of a risk, but he's at least trying to be nice about it.]

[oh, he definitely carries tension in his hands. he carries tension everywhere, but his hands--especially the one he's handed over to Tek--are the focal part of his work. they're the only part of his body he could not afford to lose, outside of, you know, vital organs and such. he treats them well, keeps them in as good a condition as he can...

but judging from the sudden, appreciative groan that escapes him, his hand still gets stiff and sore and the feeling of someone gently pinching at the tight little knots between his fingers is a welcome relief.

it feels very good to Tonic, little sparks of soft lightning dancing all through is hand. he mumbles something that may never have actually been words to begin with, ducking his face back down towards his other hand, instantly powerless.]

[ah, good. he's so used to Robin's touchiness about obviously nice things like massages, he's extremely pleased to see he doesn't have to worry about that here.

especially while it feels like he can absorb the little electrical charges of Tonic's own nerves through his fingers (he can't. it's the drugs.) he's very good at what he does. he follows where the tension goes, doesn't push anything too hard. while one hand keeps up steady doting, quietly kneading the stress out of Tonic's palm, the other slowly travels down to his wrist and the tightness in his forearm.]

...I take it that you don't mind this, then.

Nnng...

[that, alone, would have been a pretty good indication. he probably would have been appreciative of the attention on any other day, but being under the influence of Rapture makes it very easy to sink into the other's touch and completely relax his arm, abandoning it to the care of another.

as another hand starts to knead out the tension in his wrist, he tilts his face back up to look at his poor limb, a small, forlorn expression in his face.]

It gets so sore...

[somewhere, though, even with the drugs and the endorphins and the relief that comes from releasing tension he didn't even consciously realize was there--the scales are tilting. his gaze slides back to Tek's face, small smile returning.]

I should treat you to a massage, sometime... I have a lot of nice things...

[Tek recognizes the shift in dynamic. it makes sense to him, honestly. and instead of directly addressing it, he makes this sad, disappointed sound, but it's not directed at Tonic.]

...Robin never does this, you know.

[though his guest doesn't say it out loud, he knows that his offer has been accepted, and assumes that it has been tallied up somewhere as a small debt to be paid off whenever it seems most appropriate. with that out of the way, he can fully enjoy being doted on without anything unspoken hanging over him.

which is good, because Tek's next statement is a surprisingly interesting one, and he needs room to sort out his confusion. he tilts his head a little, one eyebrow raising.]

The massage, or the conversation...?

[goodness, Tek is enjoying the effortless social turns and understandings just as much as the physical experiences right now. they can both be put at ease as these unspoken agreements between them continue on, and continue to be unspoken.

so, while he had originally just meant the massage, his answer is changing.]

Well... both, if I'm being perfectly honest. He just doesn't know how to have a nice, simple conversation. [because, of course, Tek would consider a convoluted, depthy conversation that is full of nuance "simple."] ...But, no, he would never agree to a massage. Giving or receiving.

[see, the first makes a lot of sense to him. he's talked to Robin--the man knows how to play by the rules, he just doesn't, and it was a constant point of frustration in the early days when Tonic was still trying to reason with him.

the second, though...] Huh.

[he opens up his palm and flattens out his fingers for a moment, as Tek is working on them, really trying to give his tendons a good stretch. maybe working out extra energy that only he can feel, or maybe just to help him think.]

Weird, I would have thought he'd be all over this kind of thing...

Maybe that is the problem. [he chuckles at that, dryly.]

He can't sit still. He'd either get antsy and twitchy with someone trying to dig into his nerves... or he'd have to turn around and get all over them instead.

[he lets Tonic have his hand back for the moment. it can have a rest while he rolls both thumbs down over the sore muscles in the other's forearm, alternating at a kind pace.]

Oh, well. That does sound like him...

[his rather flat reaction is broken up by the feeling of thumbs in his sore forearm. he relaxes his hand again, letting a tense little bundle of angry muscles slowly release. he gives another thankful sound as a tingling spreads over his forearm, like ink spreading through water--or more likely, blood finally filling a network of capillaries as it should.]

[he's thinking again. it's there in the pause between speaking, and somehow in a subtle change to how he's working over the other's arm. little steps that he's wandering through in his mind are pressed into muscles and tendons.

it doesn't seem like a bad turn of thought, at any rate. he's still smiling down at his work when he finally speaks up again.]

...How are you feeling?

[thinking isn't necessarily a bad thing, especially after all the fun they've had. it's kind of nice to have a moment to catch up with himself, even as he's being worked on. neither of them have any sort of danger or malice in their silence. Tek isn't scheming, Tonic isn't getting defensive.

so he lets the silence sit, entertained by the feeling of his arm and the warm press of Tek's fingers against it. when Tek finally asks him a question, he's in a very good place to answer it.]

Oh, I'm still in the middle of it...

[he assumes Tek is asking about his Rapture dose and whether or not it's still working for him; so he smiles pleasantly and extrapolates a little.]

So this is very nice, darling. Filigree edges on everything.

[there's an acknowledging and satisfied hum in response, so yes, that had been primarily what he'd been asking for--along with wanting a general gauge on where his friend was at in regards to enjoying their time together. Tonic seems content, which informs the next step in his thoughts.

while he progresses forward in his head, he straightens out Tonic's arm a little more on the table so he can move up to the delicate places were muscles attach below and above his elbow. half of his mind is elsewhere, but he's still very careful around all of the places where a bundle of nerves and tendon could turn into a fierce pressure point with even a slight mistake.

and, in case it wasn't clear what he was likely considering, he glances over to where they'd left the little bottle of Rapture behind.

whether his own buzz is lessening or the topic of Robin has him feeling antsy and impulsive, he's wondering if he should leave well-enough alone or not...]

[Tonic shifts himself forward a little, letting his arm get pulled around... definitely noticing that his friend is glancing back at the small, blue bottle.]

And how are you feeling?

[he feels like that's the appropriate place to start--he's happy to give opinions and options, if Tek feels like voicing any of his wonderings aloud.]

I'm fine.

[which is perfectly true enough. he's having a pleasant time. he would be (most likely) just fine leaving things as they currently are.

however, he still can't help but linger on that little itch in the back of his brain. it's always there, but it had been easy to ignore during this visit, up until the last few minutes.]

Just wondering.

[Tonic watches him... and while he is obviously thinking about something, there is almost none of that meticulous, steel-trap calculation behind his eyes. he really must be in a very good mood.]

Well, you seem to be doing very well...

[he shrugs the shoulder that isn't attached to the arm that's being worked on.]

I don't think another dose would hurt you, if you're interested. It's just that, at a certain point, you will start to lose some of your clarity and awareness in exchange for more sensory input, which can get... overwhelming, I find.

[part of him thinks it would be fun to watch Tek teeter at the edge, but most of him is still wary of ruining his first, good experience with this sort of thing. besides, he doesn't think that Tek would trust him that much. so he stretches out the fingers of his good hand again, this time to hold them up as an illustration.]

I would say no more than five drops in one sitting. To be safe.

Edited 2019-01-26 23:20 (UTC)

[he glances over toward the little blue bottle and drums his fingers once on Tonic's arm--a short roll of one, two, three, four, five. like the drops. his mind is hooked into this enough now that he's got to do something with it, but he's still measuring several things.

glancing back to him again, he peers at his friend's face and reassesses his entire demeanor. not only looking for the details of how he's feeling overall, but seeing if he can glean anything of his opinions on the matter.]

And you're just fine where you're at? [because if he's the only one escalating things, that plays into his decision as well.]

[and Tonic rests his fingers back against the table while the other man drums a line against his arm. his overall demeanor is very relaxed, still half-melted onto the table like one of his candles. his arm remains motionless and entirely at Tek's mercy, even if he isn't getting anything out of it right this second... which means he either feels safe, physically, with their situation, or that he has specifically chosen to ignore whatever risks may be present.

as for his opinion, it could be mixed. he seems interested, at least, toying over the idea of it, potential excitement tugging at the right corner of his mouth... but still, he is Tonic, and there's a reason he hasn't already dived straight in already. maybe several, small as they are.]

Mm, I could do one more. [his smirk solidifies a little, as he decides something.] Maybe two, but that would be an awful lot of trust in one day.

[and then, because he thinks it has a funny sort of irony to it, he shakes his head just the slightest bit in either direction and adds:]

I won't take more than that. It makes me nervous.

[Tek does seem pleased with the answer, if that makes anyone more or less nervous. and just to makes sure that Tonic knows that Tek has absorbed more than just the sneaking smirk on the other's face, he runs one more doting hand up and down his arm and gives it one last reassuring squeeze before he abandons it.

and funny sort of irony indeed. Tek can't help a short laugh as he reaches back to retrieve the little blue bottle.]

...But burning half of your tongue off is no big deal.

[the squeeze at his arm stays with him long after his guest has actually moved to pick up the bottle. at the quip, Tonic laughs purely out of surprise--before pointing a somewhat accusing finger with the arm that was previously being worked on.]

That was not a stimulant, sweetheart. There's a difference.

[but he grins, not actually offended or anything.]

Yes, yes, you're right. Your judgement of danger is completely and accurately calibrated.

[he's just saying. Tonic isn't scared of acid in his own mouth, but he is of overstimulated nerves?

and Tek is only continuing to taunt Tonic because the other man is still smiling. he feels like he can get away with it, at least a little. he's just having fun and seeing if a little extra encouragement will budge anything. of not, that's fine... but he has to at least try.

after retrieving the bottle, he sets it triumphantly between the two of them and waits for a cue from Tonic on who should go first this round.]

[to that, Tonic scoffs. the taunting may not get him to budge in regards to his own personal safety, but it will convince him to be the first to reach forward and snatch up that bottle.]

That was one time, okay?

[but he opens up the bottle with a cackle, happily adding one, two drops onto his tongue before screwing the lid back on and returning it pointedly to the very center of their table.

maybe Tek's taunting did work, at least enough to get him to that "awful lot of trust" stage.]

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