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Hey baby!

[ paragon of maturity here. ]

I've got an offer for you that I think you'll deny but I'm offering it up anyway.

[As serious as Raylan was about his job, he wasn't exactly over the moon to be getting right back to it. Likely because his new inmate had also just been Francis's roommate and sometimes make out buddy. Jesus. And now Raylan had to deal with that fact every goddamn day. But there was no way through something but to just do it, so he starts with a call.]

Looks like we got our carts hitched together before the Collage throwback.

Seems to Trixie that she and Roman's social calls have been limited to one catastrophic event after another, and yet here she is again, once more paying him a visit. This time it's after his brother's up and disappeared -- she's noticed he's been gone after usual circulations around the Barge turned up no sight of him.

She knocks on his door, bottle of whiskey in hand as offering.

Do I get a picture today?

Are you alright?

Edited 2022-07-28 02:00 (UTC)

When Raylan finally was able to peel himself up off the bathroom floor and move without feeling like his stomach was crawling up his throat in a rebellious rage, the first thing he does is follow up on the message he found in his unread folder.

Roman had shot someone. Roman was in Zero. So that's where Raylan went - convenient that it wasn't far from deck 8 at all.

"Which onna these you in, Rome," he grogs, voice rough and worn but very clearly still Southern.

She still doesn't like to leave the deck, but this is important, so Iris tells herself to stop being a wuss and clatters down the stairs anyway.

The light isn't dim, and the hallways are neither cramped nor airless. She has to keep reminding herself of that but she walks with purpose and without hesitation. She doesn't know where Roman's cabin is or if he'll be in it, so she tracks him by scent.

When she finds him, she doesn't speak, she just tackles him in a surprisingly strong hug.

"John's back. Wanted to be very sure I weren't going to blame you. 'Ow you feeling now, love?"

Neal can't help the way his skim pimples up with goosebumps when he steps into the too-familiar setting of Level 0. A genuine prison in the belly of a prison ship. The only difference is how unsettlingly quiet it is.

"Roman?"

[ Continued from here. ]

The party is almost entirely forgotten. It's never been a matter of confidence--despite his self loathing, Roman Roy has confidence in spades--it's something else, and he's had just enough alcohol and is in just the right mood that John's needling is hitting in just the right way.

If John wants to get away, who is he to disagree? He downs the rest of his mint julep, chugging the last half of it and sighing contentedly as he places the glass down, does a quick glance around the party--he thinks he sees Raylan and Flint entering--and nearly skips to the exit, knowing damn well John is following him.

"My room's closer." He knows damn well they're not going for a walk. Or if John's actually serious about it, Roman's determined to turn it into something else.

James is intoxicated, but lightly so. The fun kind of intoxicated, where everything is vivid and exciting and a little bit silly.

The thought of going all the way back to his own small apartment after the glamor of Pagan and Trixie's party doesn't appeal, which is why--he'll blame it on the booze if asked--he keys in the security code to Roman's front door since the lights are on when he gets there. He knocks on the wall of the front hallway, like that will announce him better than the fact that he knew the code.

"Hello! Anyone home?"

There isn't going to be a heads-up call or warning he was coming, he's just going to knock on Roman's door and wait.

Roy-san,

Would you be willing to talk to me regarding what happened with you and Hands-san? I'd like to hear your side.

I understand if you would prefer not to. I hope your wound heals well.

Kiryu

I'm James Flint's warden.

I'm fucking stressed. Come drink vodka and play space video games with me.

[Eiffel's not freaking out about being kissed you're freaking out.

But he also doesn't have many people he can freak out to. Jedao was the problem, he's too embarrassed to face Gonou yet, he's pretty sure Shaw wouldn't get it, and he's not sure anyone else likes him enough to understand the crisis.

He's not sure Roman won't make fun of him for it either, to be honest. But he's been on
a hot streak so far with the being nice stuff, so.]

Hey Rome, can I like- borrow you, for a minute?

Edited 2023-04-14 01:07 (UTC)

I think I have something that belongs to you.

I should probably start saying this out loud to you but I'm proud of you. What you're doing here. I see you doing the work and that takes guts.

You're gonna be okay, kid.

[ from here: ]

[ He sends dick pics because most girls hate them and he has the impulsive, childish need to get attention no matter the cost. Probably even because of the cost, but he's never been a fan of examining his own inner workings and he sure as hell isn't going to now, not when there's one of those weird little freaks that make him feel less neurotic about everything hanging out in his pad and especially not when the incredibly hot girl he's only ever really talked to on the network until she punched him is apparently perfectly alright with casual sex.

Roman's not complaining. Far from it, he's doing the opposite of that, he's inwardly cheering. He's somehow managed to keep his pad neat and tidy despite not hiring anyone to clean, and by the time he hears the tell-tale tapping he's pulled out the only bottle of wine he has (expensive shit, something looted from the fake New York City but girls like wine, right?) and just set it on the small counter.

The heavy oak brownstone door opens to reveal Roman's pad, carefully and tastefully decorated by someone who was definitely hired to do so, a complete lack of anything personal in it sans a painting on the wall. Roman himself is in his usual attire, though his hair isn't slicked back like he usually is, and his lips pull taught into an excited, boyish grin. ]

Welcome to the shit pit. Hiya.

[ He moves with a dramatic half-spin, leaving the door open for her to make herself at home. ]

Edited 2023-06-16 21:34 (UTC)

[ From here ]

[ Roman knows what he wants. He's always known, and it's always been Norton in some nebulous form: at first because John liked Norton and Roman craved what John desired, but it's morphed into something else. The Brit's attractive in a way Roman can't really deny: the deceptively shapely arms, the mischievous glint in his eye, the way his lips purse and that he genuinely doesn't seem to care about what people think of him. His patience with Roman's issues--which since the arrival of the strange little creatures floating around in his cabin haven't surfaced--has skyrocketed Norton to one of the people Roman covets the most.

He can have fun and he knows what he wants and he knows Norton wants him, too, and it's enough that the other's cheery tone is about all he can take in terms of preamble. The brownstone door closes, Roman's penthouse bright and perfectly elegant in a way that only rich people can afford it to be, and Roman is already crowding Norton. ]

I did.

[ Roman also doesn't seem to give a shit he's shorter, either: Norton's barely in the door when he crowds the other, one hand grabbing at Norton's hip to guide him as he walks the other backwards. He backs him into the wall, other hand on the wall next to Norton to support himself as he finally takes what he feels like is his. He kisses Norton with a fervor his usual laissez-faire movement lacks, sharp and focused and pushing past lips with his tongue and tilting his head for a better angle. Norton is his and only his, just for a moment, and Roman intends on making good use of their time. ]

Edited 2023-06-19 20:31 (UTC)

[No note, no comment, no name. Just a link. And also: ]

c:

I bet it feels so fucking good to be a Tetris board and have the straight teal piece go deep inside

[In the wake of this shit.]

Yours the dick pic in question?

Hey

Do you get on with Florian?

I mean socially

Not sexually

[Even if he does the latter, Sweeney would rather not know.]

You can have that picture if you let me into the Enclosure in the next two minutes and then fuck off.

Mr Roy, this is Hunter. Edwin got killed in an altercation with my own temporary inmate.

[His voice is perfectly flat, in a way that betrays actively trying not to let emotion through, just plain facts. He's obviously practiced with it.]

no subject

One Day Post Breach

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audio

Day after the poisonings/Murder

[after Zero]

Post-Poisoning, Level 0