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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[and because it's Tonic, he cackles. when it comes to his appearance, he loves a blunt question. even if the real answer has him settling back down into something between a grin and a grimace.]

No, actually... This one was all me.

[he hunches down into his shoulders a little--not embarrassed, exactly, Tonic may not be capable of feeling such an emotion--but he knows it wasn't the finest moment of his career, all the same.]

[and with him finishing up the last of his snack, he's free to get caught up in the sheepish expression spreading across his friend's face. he'd love the look on any day, but there's just something about the way that everything looks right now that makes it absolutely adorable.

with a conspiratorial hum, he props his chin on his hand and settles in. he's ready to hear the confession.]

Well...

[and on any other day, he might have simply left it short and boring, or not even mentioned it at all... but with eyes on him, and with the room still feeling warm and soft, he feels the urge to play into the scene and finds the idea too funny to resist.]

Sometimes... You have a new chemical compound that you need to test... And you're maybe running against a deadline...

[he shrugs harder, raising his mismatched hands up in a "what can you do?" motion.]

And you're... Maybe are a little too confident in your understanding of its corrosive properties...?

[Tek just... covers his mouth with one hand. it's impossible to tell whether it's out of shock and disbelief, or to cover a horrible grin. either way, he needs a moment before he says anything.]

...How are you still alive.

[it's a statement of incredulity, not a question.]

I know!

[the answer is delivered with such enthusiasm that he nearly jostles one of those candles as he gestures--but reaches out very quickly to steady it, shoving it slightly further away and out of harm's reach.

and then he gestures at Tek, 'pointing' at him with a flat, vertical hand. he looks like he's close to laughing again.]

The fact has not escaped me.

[half of his face still resting in his hand, he slowly shakes his head.]

...Should I asked if you learned your lesson after that?

Um... [that pause is telling. he narrows his eyes, as if Tek were somehow the one trying to trick him, and not the other way around.] ...Yes.

[he has mostly learned his lesson. he snickers a little, at his own expense.]

[he finally lets go of his own face and leans back from the table, taking a slow, judgmental breath. as if he has any room to speak himself.]

Well... [fighting a preemptive smirk at his own comment, now.] ...at least you're pretty.

Ugh...!

[it's like he's been shot--he tips backwards from the sheer force of the comment, clutching at the metaphorical wound in his chest. such biting words. he cackles, unable to help himself, nearly slumping over onto the floor as the laughing overtakes him.]

You bitch! [shouted proudly from somewhere below the table.]

[snickering, quite proud of himself, he follows Tonic's wilting direction a little ways. enough to prop himself lazily on the edge and lord over him just a bit.]

Oh, that was it. Looks like someone finally got him. So sad...

[if he'd had any hope of recovering from his helpless laughter, it's dashed the moment another joke is lobbed straight for his morbid sense of humor. he clutches onto the edge of the table until his giggling is finally too much, and he collapses onto the floor much like Tek had done before.

but he can't just let it stay there, no. he almost sounds convincingly desperate, as he struggles for air between his fits of laughter, as his beautiful arm shoots up in the air.]

Tell them... I want the most expensive funeral... And everyone must wear extravagant hats.

[the arm flops down again, dramatically, as he giggles into the carpet.]

[of all the effects of this drug, he has quietly decided that the laughing is his favorite one. whatever it's doing for them, or whatever psychological excuse it's offering, he greatly enjoying it... even though he's quickly finding himself descending into helplessness again, falling into a loose fit of giggles while he watches the dramatics play out on the floor.]

Hats? Oh, sorry, then I won't be attending. You'll have to find someone else to write you a beautiful eulogy.

Excuse me--

[spectacularly, he finds enough strength to be indignant, hauling his heavy upper body back up onto the table enough to fix Tek with a sideways grin (between broken bits of giggle).]

Have you no respect for the dead, sir?

[and, drugged or not, this is easily one of the dumbest conversations that he has ever been a part of.]

[his eyebrows raise in an almost pained expression as this goes on... because it is stupid, and Tonic is continuing it, and the laughing isn't going to stop. his stomach is starting to hurt.]

Every one of my most beloved friends and relatives could fall--tragically--into a river of lava, and I still wouldn't put on a hat.

[his laughter gets a little louder as something else hits him--partly generated from Tek's vivid imagery, but mostly stemming from the simple fact:]

Me too-- [ugh, he clutches at his head, starting to feel a little dizzy.] I hate hats...

[give him a moment to try and catch his breath... dabbing at the corners of his good eye, because he may honestly start crying if he doesn't get this back under control. and even in the height of euphoria, he cannot ruin this makeup.]

[he groans and turns toward the table enough to put both elbows down onto it again, hanging his head and rubbing his face for a minute. there's a weird, dull buzz in his skin when he does. not quite the tickling and tingling of earlier, but distracting nonetheless. it helps him catch his breath.]

Ugh... this is too much. [he doesn't really mean that, of course.] You should have warned me that I'd laugh myself into a broken rib.

Please, darling, you're the dangerous one here...

[he has a couple more giggles to finally let out, mostly bubbling up when he finally hears something that isn't more laughter, or thinks back even a couple of seconds to any of what had just been said. but he gets there.

it really does hurt. his side is killing him. but he feels so light and worn out in a strange, good way that maybe doesn't actually have to do with Rapture so much as the fact that this may be the first time he's laughed so hard in years.]

Fuck me... [he finally exclaims, daring to lift his head and look at the man in front of him.] This is... I can't believe that this is my day, now.

[he peers over at him and scoffs--a trade to keep himself from chuckling instead.]

You have no one to blame for that one but yourself.

[Tek may be dangerously hilarious, but it's Tonic's ridiculous idea to take the day off to get them both high that kicked off the whole thing.]

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...

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