notrosecolored | Duplicity Contact Post

There's a red line on his nose but there's... no tanline on his face from the glasses. He holds his hand out for them, but doesn't move.

"Because no depth perception and red is better than blind?" he asks, dryly amused. "I'm going to go out on a limb and say most motorcycles are black, though, and that you probably shouldn't ask me what color things are."

“Well…yeah, alright.” He places them back in Scott’s hand and rubs the bridge of his nose. That felt odd, even without all the red.

Chris leans his arms on the counter. “Fine, black, then. You could’ve told me any color and I’d likely believed you. Carriages are either red or brown or painted in family colors, but cats here come in every color imagined.”

He slides them back onto his face and - he isn't bothered, though he is sure they felt odd. If nothing else they're heavy. "I know, and realizing you believed me is why I dragged you over here. Don't trust me with that stuff. That said you can paint it whatever color you want. It's yours."

"Well, thanks for not being an ass." He shrugs. "Time yet to think on that, need one built and ready first before she's getting name or sails to her."

He braces his chin in a palm as he thinks. "I could probably put research to it, but do you happen to know why some are covered in a casing and others all bare parts and mechanisms?"

"Weight, stability, handling responsiveness, and protection or lack of for the moving parts. Expense." In short yeah and it's multi-faceted. "If you're really doing a build, less exposed is better - especially here, where I'm not at all sure of parts availability, and you being new enough that you're going to crash." At least once. Don't break anything he's helping build, please.

Chris listens intently, at least. He'll definitely have to do some research, but that was okay. Less exposed sounded fine to him.

At the mention of 'going to crash' Chris does make a face. He looks around and finds a mug near the sink he can reach so long as he stretches across the counter. Once it's in hand, he glances to Scott and smashes the handle against the edge of the counter to break it off.

"Yeah, I'm gonna crash, but it'll be fine as much as I am. Here." He collects the piece and holds it to the side of the mug where it's edges line up. A faint glow lingers around his finger as he traces it along the break, the porcelain sealing itself as he goes. In seconds, it's put to rights and he slides the mug over to Scott.

"I can fix that too, bigger breaks just take longer."

He tilts his head as he watches that display, outwardly emotionless but inwardly very interested and not because of motorcycles.

"Come with me."

He might have just solved a problem he was worried about, and has been since his arrival.

Chris shrugs. "Alright."

Curiosity had him following wherever Scott was headed.

Something to do with his magic, probably?

He could have left Chris there and probably should have, but he heads into the (totally undecorated, unlived in appearing) bedroom, opens a top dresser drawer and pulls out a pair of glasses similar in style to the ones on his face.

"Do you have limitations on material, or anything else?"

Chris can't help but glance around the (drab, impersonal, sterile-feeling) bedroom, but it's easy enough to focus on Scott, at least.

He offers his hand out. "Nope, so long as you've the pieces and I'm not trying to fuse two unrelated things together, I can fix near-on anything. Magic that's broken from a broken item I can't do anything for, but I'm guessing that doesn't apply here."

There's a pause while Scott puts that last sentence together in a way that makes sense. He does not hand the glasses over - they're not broken, yet, but they also don't have the same frame as the ones he's wearing, they're heavier and-

Okay, fine.

"It doesn't."

He lifts and brings the glasses down hard on the dresser.

If it works, he has a resource and one less worry.

If it doesn't... well he's still got his visor and the glasses on his face.

There's a crunch that has Chris flinching a bit. And his confusion rising.

He crosses his arms. "Why the fuck are you breaking your glasses, Scott?"

They're clearly different than the ones he's wearing, but Chris wasn't going to begin to guess what was up with them, Scott's world was weird.

"Because if you can fix that, then I have more options than you can't - and if you can't then I still have the pair on my face, my visor, and knowledge about how careful I need to be."

He thought it was pretty obvious.

"Gods, you're the worst."

Chris bats Scott's hand away to weave his magic through the pieces and fuse them back together. Once they're whole again, he folds them and offers them back, that vague annoyance still lingering.

"Satisfied? I'll fix your anti-blow up glasses if they get broken."

"Great, because that material isn't easy to come by anywhere and they're going to take a beating here."

Because he's going to make sure they do.

Chris eyes the glasses dubiously. "What material even is it?"

"Ruby quartz. Quartz is common. That color quartz, far less so." Why is this- You know what, they're standing in his bedroom having this discussion, everything's fine.

"Huh...well, you'd know better, I've no idea if that exists where I come from or not, I'm not the rock guy in my team."

He is, however, going to lean vaguely against Scott's dresser. "Anything else you want to break so I can fix it?"

Edited 2022-05-04 22:16 (UTC)

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.

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?"

That makes him grin, albeit slightly.

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

He'll still beat you, asshole.

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."

"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."

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.

"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."

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