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[notrosecolored]

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[notrosecolored]

Scott, in turn, pushes up to sit on top of the dresser. "There are so many possible responses from 'hearts' to 'your face'." It's just teasing. He's actually so relieved he's in a very actively very good mood now.

[chrisisofaith]

Chris shifts to bump his shoulder to Scott's leg.

"Actually, now that I'm here, you want punch each other or go out for more darts and this time I'll use magic to kick your ass?"

He brings a hand up to his chin in mock thought. "What if I had a dart board that was only bright red and like dark red?"

[notrosecolored]

That makes him grin, albeit slightly.

"have we had a discussion about my spatial awareness, yet?"

He'll still beat you, asshole.

[chrisisofaith]

He glances up and over his shoulder at Scott.

"No. What, you got measurements in your head too? The kind to throw a ball at a wall and have it ricochet around until it hits the target? Cause if so, we're trying a new game."

[notrosecolored]

"I appreciate how quickly you catch on. That's exactly the kind of thing I have in my head. Let's find a new game. Maybe poker."

[chrisisofaith]

He rolls his eyes and steps away from the dresser. "Poker with two? That seems silly. I'd invite you to a drinking game, but you've probably got some super human resistance to that shite too."

He's not actually as sore as he sounds, but it's a fun act.

[notrosecolored]

"You're right, you cannot have enough money to make taking it all a worthwhile venture." He isn't upset either and the snarky tone backs off, and he shakes his head. "No healing ability, and my alcohol tolerance is only remotely high because of body mass and exposure."

Yeah yeah he drinks a lot at specific times in his life. Sue him. "Logan. Don't play any kind of drinking game with him."

[chrisisofaith]

He doesn't, unfortunately. Not like he might have back home, he works for a charity and a magic theatre, he's only lucky he's frugal...and he certainly has no room to judge on drinking when his own habits likely qualified for some kind of 'addiction' take by modern sensibilities.

No one appreciated a simple two or three drink evening after work anymore.

"I've never said two words to him, I just know he's shacking up with one of my theatre guys and you, beyond that our paths don't cross."

[notrosecolored]

"Help me out on my rolling and endless list of people he's shaking up with. Which one is one of the theater guys?"

He sounds... not angry or upset exactly just... exasperated and kind of confused.

[chrisisofaith]

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.

[notrosecolored]

"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."

[chrisisofaith]

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."

[notrosecolored]

"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."

[chrisisofaith]

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."

[notrosecolored]

"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."

[chrisisofaith]

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?"

[notrosecolored]

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.

[chrisisofaith]

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?"

[notrosecolored]

"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."

Just throwing it out there.

"I might bother Logan about it, at some point."

[chrisisofaith]

Chris isn't about to question him, it's his own house: he can drink as much as he likes.

"You realizer 'more current ex-girlfriend sounds nuts, but I get your meaning."

He sits back a bit more in his chair, brow raising. "You probably ought to cause your other option is to have a really weird and awkward mind-conversation with your ex-wife over what you've done to move on and that's no fun for anyone, but I'd be willing to bet she'd still do it."

Now he needs his drink as his thoughts head for a certain man with bright amber eyes and a smile quick as a bolt in the sky. "That's the problem when they 'die' and you move on: they're still feeling the things left feeling when they left you, but you've had to figure something else out. No shame in that, but that doesn't mean you ought ignore it either just cause it's hard."

[notrosecolored]

Lots and lots he could say there if he talked about Emma and Jean and himself, but suddenly he's not really on his own mind and neither are they.

Especially not with Chris finally drinking.

"That sounds like experience more than supposition. Who died?"

[chrisisofaith]

Chris' gaze cuts up to Scott and away again as he reaches for the bottle to refill their glasses.

"He didn't die." He contemplates leaving it at that, but that was hardly fair in their little give and take. Besides, Scott couldn't be the only one with weird stories. He clears his throat and continues.

"Mallik Kallian didn't die, but when he left the city's docks with a kiss and a promise and never came back, I sure thought he had. Turns out his ship got sunk, yes, but by a kraken that collected things. It collected him down to the depths and kept him in magical stasis and quite alive, if asleep. He was thirty-four when he was lost, eight years later, he's still thirty-four and needing to find his place again in a world that's moved on without him. Myself included, even if I never once forgot or stopped loving him."

[notrosecolored]

"People were pretty convinced I was dead, once."

Wait, no. They're supposed to be talking about Jean, or Chris, or someone not him. This is why he shouldn't drink and yet he immediately goes back to his refilled glass, albeit with more respect.

"Wasn't 34 way too young for you eight years ago? How old were you, 13?"

[chrisisofaith]

He shoots Scott a look...which only turns into a disbelieving scoff as he continues talking. "Alright put a pin in that one, I'm sure it's crazy." Because most of Scott's bullshit was, even if Chris was curious, it rarely meant he fully understood.

"How old do you think I am, Scott? I was seventeen. He was twice my age, yes, but that hardly meant anything much at the time. Besides....now he's not twice my age and it still doesn't matter."

[notrosecolored]

He shrugs. "No more crazy than the rest of the story about your previous lover." Then he sips from his glass and admits: "I thought you were twenty one. Seventeen's fine." Almost. Close enough. He can only get so judgey. For lots of reasons. Experiences. Whatever.