Chris shrugs and leans against the dresser again. He can't blame Scott at all. "Nicky. Nick O'Broin. Don't worry about it, if you asked me who all any of my people sleep with I couldn't begin to tell you, I don't keep tabs."
Much. More like a vague look up now and again for any shifty sorts, but even that has slipped past him, apparently....so he could hardly be called good at that sort of tab-keeping.
"Nick is... also a bartender somewhere, isn't he? Or is that someone else?" He's frowning slightly trying to put that together, but stops to shake his head slightly and give Chris a slight smile. "The sex isn't what throws me. It's his level of... community involvement and number of people he's trying to take care of."
He has to think about that, but- "Yeah, I think so? At the Scratch." Which is barely a place on Chris' radar, honestly, it just wasn't much his thing, but that sounded right.
"I've no idea if Nick counts as one of those types for him, but considering the messes Nicky gets himself in, it wouldn't surprise me any if he was."
Nick had a way of attracting either trouble or people who wanted to keep him out of it. Chris shrugs. "Once you're here a while, you end up dug in, I guess. Find your network of people and community projects to get hands in or go mad. Even you're starting to."
"Maybe. I'm sure it's useful to dig in, but right now I'm still swinging between trying to make connections and be available and make no connections so I'm left the hell alone by everyone who isn't some level of asshole and doesn't come from my world."
Which is direct as hell for him, but followed by him pushing off the dresser. "Come on. I've got a couple of bottles. Let's go play a drinking game at the kitchen table like the normal people we aren't."
It is direct and draws a laugh from Chris. "You know, typically, trying to do the opposite things at the same time will result in nothing happening. Just a thought."
But he'll happily follow Scott back to his kitchen and not at all argue that assessment.
Chris flops himself down into one of the kitchen chairs, long legs stretched out before him. "Also, if I'm honest, you seem the type to just attract assholes, from your world or not, so I wouldn't bank on that one."
"It's a brain thing. Too alone, I'll self-destruct. Too much pressure on me -- same end result."
Scott gets two shot glasses and a bottle of midrange vodka out of a cabinet. Honestly, it's as likely Wade's as his own, but he's not overly fussed about it.
He puts a glass in front of Chris, the other glass with him and the bottle in the middle.
"Reasons poly is working for me, especially here."
Chris hums a bit and reaches for the bottle to pour them both a shot. "You just said 'connections' poly's got nothing to do with with your friends, Scott, unless you're more free-loving than I thought."
He's mostly joking, he doesn't think Scott's setting up relationships with every other person he slept with. That was more Nick's style.
He tosses his shot back. "You've made mention of throwing your loved ones a each other when it's too much for you, that is indeed a plus. Certainly a main appeal for me as well. How's it working with you actually getting what you need, though?"
He tosses his own shot back and then immediately refills both glasses. Are they playing a drinking game or just drinking to see who gets insentient first? It's a fine line, sometimes.
"Darling, according to you what I need is tied up and fucked and what you need is punched in the face on occasion. I? Don't know what I need and the last time I did what I needed was a new box of crayons." Because he was six.
He doesn't throw this one back, at least. They hadn't yet agree to the parameters of their game, but there was nothing wrong with a warm up...or just drinking while under the guise of attempting to be productive.
'Darling' certainly throws him for a loop, however and green eyes widen in his clear surprise. "I'm sorry, hold on, I'm still reeling on 'darling.' But, yes I do think you need that thing and what I need's a proper method of getting myself out of my own much: history says getting punched manages it." And largely it does, but he's trying to find other options.
This petplay with Jon might help. Rough sex that leaves him sore and aching might help. Getting punched while sparring would likely help. It was a learning process.
"You ever consider that might be your real problem? Can't get help from your partners if you're not even sure what that help looks like. Oh...but you're used to a telepath just knowing. Right." He arches a brow. "You ever ask her what you need?"
"All right," he says, after a pause to process the way that just flipped around on him into some real direct and generally real shit - and draining his shot glass a second time.
He's a big guy, it's fine.
"No. Because the person here is my dead ex-wife. We're not telepathically communicating right now. She's been dead for a while and whatever it is I need is not something she's got experience with. That was with my more current, not here, ex girlfriend."
The good news is that he can't take the decision home with him. Assuming it's a decision.
The bad news is, he's at least as screwed up as you are. I can see exactly why he'd find someone who'd take him apart appealing and I barely know him. You're probably going to have to grit your teeth and pretend to ignore the situation, if you want a chance in hell that he'll seek you out for help if he needs it.
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