wastedcreation | open post

RP here baybee

Tox doesn't believe him, until the interface translates.

Devero.

Oh, so it was a D, not a P. It still could be obscene, but he sees now that the 'big' part refers to his overall size.

"Is it intentional that your name could be interpreted as 'big dick?'"

His expression turns absolutely mischievous. "Would you like to find out the answer for yourself?" he asks.

Sebastian breathes out a flustered laugh, turning his head away and shaking it as his face flushes red. Even the glamour he has over himself can't hide it.

"You're somethin' else," he mutters. Which isn't a no, but where he's from, the mere idea of two men sleeping together is scandalous. Blasphemous.

Were he at home, in Gov territory, Devero might have chased that blush. He knows it would be safe to do so. But out here in an Outsider town? He knows a lot of the outsider communities have regressive ideas about gender and sexuality. He may not know if this one specifically has any hangups, but he's not going to put himself-- or the person he'll leave behind when he goes home-- in danger by pursuing something socially unacceptable.

So he sits back on his stool, giving the other man space. He can't help one last flourish-- "That's what they tell me!"-- but then folds his tail down and settles. "So I'm Devero. What's your name?"

He's not sure if Devero was joking or not, and perhaps that's for the best. He might get overwhelmed if it went much further in this moment, in public. He isn't quite sure of this town's views on homosexuality, but he imagines begrudgingly neutral and 'I don't want that in my face,' at best, especially in a dive bar like this one with the macho miner men around them.

"Sebastian." He chances a glance back at Devero, though his face is still a little hot. "What's that one look like?"

The expression on his face has lost its sharp edge, softened down to merely genial. He certainly hadn't been joking, but he's not going to risk leaving Sebastian in a shitty situation-- or scaring him off entirely-- if this is one of those 'traditional' kind of towns.

"Like this," he says, and fingerspells it out. There's one motion for every letter of Sebastian's name, unlike Devero's much briefer appellation, and he makes them distinctly, pausing between each. "It's nice to meet you, Sebastian." (This time when he spells it, it's much faster, the signs flowing one into the other quick as he can make them.)

He blinks at the sheer number of signs that make up his name.

"Jeez. A lot of letters, isn't it?" Seems like him learning the whole thing by heart would take an hour, yet Devero does it like it's nothing. He supposes all language is like that- seemingly impossible to learn, and then second nature once you know it.

"Nice to meet you too," and then he signs Devero's name, as taught, with a tiny grin.

"Hey, it's your name," Devero says with a laugh. "But mine spelled out is--" and he demonstrates, first shaping each letter distinctly and then flashing through it with conversational speed.

His smile when Sebastian signs his name back to him is brilliantly wide in the dim light of the bar. Few enough people even in his own nation bother to learn, not when technology makes translation between Global and Global Sign easy and nearly instantaneous; a random outsider being willing to even just pick up his name sign has him absolutely chuffed.

He lifts his glass, offers it towards Sebastian to clink. "To your copper mine, eh?"

"I'd love a nickname like yours, but maybe you'd have to know me better," he says, still smiling, feeling uncharacteristically comfortable and open. "In the meantime, just call me Seb. I don't want to be a pain in your ass."

Devero's grin is all but spellbinding, and Sebastian may be staring at it a little too long, or a little too intensely.

Toasting to a stupid mine of all things. Hm. He picks up his glass and clinks it to Devero's.

"And to your Scorpion."

Devero quaffs his drink of beer, then sets his glass down to say, "I'm telling it you said that, Seb." Does he wink outrageously as he says that? You bet he does!

But he goes on a moment later to clarify, "It's my sign name, not a nickname. I picked it when I got my citizenship. And you were on the right track, it does literally mean 'big D'."

"Good." It's news to him that Dev can talk to this machine, but he likes being called by his nickname so much, and finds the idea of Dev jockeying a huge mech so attractive that he just says the first thing that comoes to mind, no calculation. There's a certain intensity to the word, almost like a challenge, but not in a fighting sense.

"Big D," he mutters chidingly, shaking his head again, but he's also smiling and bumping his elbow slightly into Dev as he says it.

"Can I tell you a secret, Big D?" He leans into Dev even more, ducking his head into the crook of his neck conspiratorially. "I hate beer." He laughs.

Well hello there! Devero clearly has no problem at all with Sebastian getting closer, even drops his shoulder a little to make it more comfortable for him.

His laugh now is more restrained than his earlier guffaws. "Then why are you drinking it?" It's his turn to nudge with an elbow. "Order something you'll like!"

"Because I feel like I should, I guess." He does a lot of things because he feels like he should. A common theme for him.

"I don't... Really know what I like," he admits. "Alcohol does nothing for me."

Devero's hands come up right away to start suggesting alternatives, but he waits to let Sebastian finish, and then lowers them again. He looks around the bar, at all the masc guys with their beers or little shot glasses in front of them. No martini glasses, no margarita bowls; this clearly isn't a fancy drinks kind of bar. And if alcohol doesn't even do anything for Seb....

He brings his attention back to the other man. "You smoke?" he asks. "I've got some herb back at barracks, if that'd be more up your alley."

He hesitates. He isn't too sure what herb refers to- anything but alcohol is pretty scarce in the commune, and also contraband, and his time on the surface hasn't been plentiful enough to run into many other kinds of drugs.

In any case, it probably won't affect him... And part of him wants to be honest with Devero about that, because the guy is so nice. But that would be suspicious, because humans are affected by drugs. Everyone but him is, really, and he can't be honest about the reason for that.

In silver lining, the barracks might offer a more private location for them to... Hang out more comfortably, and if not, it'll at least be a place he can gather more intel.

"Sure, why not."

"All right!" Devero rises to his feet, picking up his glass and throwing the rest of the beer back in one long chug. He sets it down with a clack and gives the bartender a friendly wave, then gestures again for Seb to follow him and takes a step towards the door--

"Hey!" That's the bartender, barking as he hurries down to this end of the counter. "You gonna pay for those, you wiggie weirdo?"

Sebastian stands, then raises a brow as the bartender chases them down like they're about to run off into the night without paying. And did he really have to call Devero that? It all seems a bit unnecessary.

He raises a hand to signal to Devero that he need not interact with this dude, and glares at the barkeep as he sets money on the bartop for both of their drinks. All surface folk have his ire at heart, 'wiggie' or no, but Devero... Has made himself an exception, at least for tonight.

He then turns and falls into step with the other man, heading out.

"Dumbass," he mutters.

As soon as he sees the word 'pay', Devero flusters. He's slapping around at his pockets before Sebastian intercedes, but subsides when his new pal takes care of it.

"Thank you," he says as they leave, his own mutter in the hunch of his shoulders and his ducked head. "I always forget about that shit when I'm out of Gov territory."

"You forget... To pay? Are drinks free there? Or do your fancy glasses pay for you."

He imagines there's little that interface can't do.

"Everything is free there," Devero says. "Gov takes care of us."

"Really?" He was joking about the drinks being free, but everything?

"In exchange for what?"

Being a soldier, maybe. That wouldn't be too different from the commune, he realizes. But nothing is truly free. There's always expectation, rules to follow, shoes to fill.

Tox is right, but Devero's too close-- and too good a son of his government-- to see it. So he believes it when he says, "Nothing. If you can work and there's something you want to do, you do it, but no one's required to be a contributor."

"Bullshit," he says, feeling that he can be so bold because of the rapport they've built, though it may be a step too far. Still, he can't continue to hide his disdain for surface communities completely, and his cynicism from his own turbulent teen years in the commune. "There must be a catch."

"Why?" Devero asks. "There's more than enough of everything to go around. Why not make sure everyone gets their fair share?"

(There is, perhaps, a reason why Devero was one of the Scorpions sent on this particular mission, and why the Scorpions in general were given leave to go out and mingle with the locals.)

"Sure, of course, everyone can have their fair share. But you can't tell me your government is completely benevolent and expects nothing of you."

He doesn't really have a solid argument, because he hasn't fully articulated his issues with his own commune's leadership yet (because he's not allowed). And even if he had thought it through completely, he wouldn't be able to tell Devero about it.

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and white men who kill god

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