thisavrou_log | [ miles catch-all: one-way train to crazy town ]

Important security update: the whale museum gives me the creeps.

How's your room coming along?

Edited 2016-03-09 14:31 (UTC)

Somehow I'm not surprised. Anything of particular morbid fascination? Don't tell me there's a gift shop at the end. It's...coming. Mother and I were set to do it ourselves, but that idiot Ivan came and whisked the whole thing out of our hands. Something about no interior design sense. And here I thought I'd never see him take initiative on anything.

I'm all for conservation and recycling, but how's "it's made of bones" for a start? Thought about getting you a souvenir, but they were all out of eyeball paperweights.

[had steered clear of the room-design project to let Miles have some chance of working it out himself, but this response has Bel cackling.] Ivan, master of interior design? Somehow that makes perfect sense. I can't wait to see it.

Busy after mess tonight? [or is he up to his eyeballs in personnel paperwork? wouldn't be surprised, after the latest influx.]

Yuck. It's the thought that counts, and I appreciate the thought behind not getting me anything. Ha. You've never met his mother -- Ivan couldn't have escaped inheriting her sense if he tried. And no, not really.

[ that's a lie, he is up to his eyeballs in paperwork, but he spent the night in his office last night mostly not sleeping -- and the night before, he's pretty sure, although it's starting to run together -- seeing bel for a little while would be a nice change of pace. actually, he's been so buried under desk work that not only does he feel like he's drowning, he hasn't exactly been social lately. ]

Actually, I was going to check out the room to see how Ivan's doing with it. Meet me there?

[soft smile] There's no good restaurants down here either. And yet I almost prefer it to Emiri. Almost.

You never know, on this ship. I've heard about her, though. She sounds terrifyingly astute. Which might explain his lack of initiative, come to think of it.

[raises brows at the 'not really'. has been keeping an eye on crew movements lately, what with the recent spate of people deciding to sleep anywhere but their own quarters; maybe Miles had fallen asleep on the office couch last night, but Bel had already been planning to check in person tonight if it happened again.]

That sounds like a plan. I'll be there as soon as I'm back on board.

Oh, I don't know. Pretty sure he was born with it. I'll be at the room, then. See you when you get here. Naismith out.

[ is that a slip, or just a little wink and nod at bel, their own little private joke here on the moira? impossible to tell over text.

when bel arrives, they'll find the door to miles's new private room open -- surprisingly, it's already mostly done, fairly utilitarian in design, but it's obvious where the vorpatril touch has been, seeing as it's not entirely black, gray, and beige.

also unsurprisingly, miles has brought along a pile of work to hammer at while he's been waiting for bel, despite how sick to death he is of paperwork -- what else is he going to do? rest? don't be ridiculous

he looks up and gives bel a wave, looking much more tired than they last saw him and kind of like shit, but he's still grinning, eyes a little too bright and alert. not the look of a well-rested man. his betan accent is back in full swing, to boot. ]

Yo. [ he gestures around him with a grin. ] Not bad, eh? Guess I should give that idiot a little more credit.

[he's been more Naismith than usual lately -- it's comforting, this far away from home, as nice as it's been getting to know his other side too. Bel hotfoots over to the new room after Miles's mess-hall shift is over, sauntering in and looking around with interest.]

Very pretty! I'm impressed; there's more than two colors. [grins] The lights down there are a nice touch.

[doesn't stop at the door, either; instead, after a quick assessment of the state of Miles's desk and face, leans across the paperwork to loop an arm around his shoulders and draw him up into a deep, thorough kiss. 'yo' to you too, Miles Naismith; it's been days.~]

[ fractional surprise on miles's part, and largely for the lack of sleep -- but he's hardly complaining, a warm little noise escaping from his mouth. his hands go to cup bel's face as he kisses them back with no less enthusiasm, lingering a little even after the kiss. he blinks away the glazed look on his face and grins up at bel. ]

Hello, Bel. [ his voice is warm, a little more color to his admittedly extra-pale face. he pushes the paperwork to the side so he can prop his elbows up on the table. he nods at the other chair, an invitation to sit -- probably what he ought to do is pull out the bed still folded up into the wall, but if miles sat down on the bed he'd probably nod off. his eyes glint. ] See, that's the sort of souvenir I prefer. Much more environmentally friendly, and not so overpriced.

[mmmmmm, much better, even if it's only a temporary boost for him. he must be tired, if he didn't see that coming.~ leans into his hands, contentedly lost there for a moment; fingers trace down his jaw on pulling back.]

Hello, Miles. [a fond, low tone. the simple pleasure of getting to be with him like this still lurks in the brown eyes as Bel pulls up the indicated chair, leaning forearms on the table as well.] And here I thought you were trying to make me regret not getting you a paperweight. What've you been doing with yourself? You look as grey as the carpet.

[which is a very nice one, by the way, in Bel's opinion; soft and springy, from what can be told with boots on. makes one wonder what it'd be like with boots off.~]

[ it's still new, still fresh, and miles is reveling in it, because there are parts of it that feel so very old -- because he and bel are old friends now, even if they're new lovers. he grins at the light caress to his jaw and finally settles back a little.

miles wrinkles his nose at that comment, resting his cheek against his hand. ]

Thanks. [ he snorts, kicking one leg idly from the chair. ] Work, mostly. Did you get a look at the new wave? It's not a small crowd. I've just about been buried in frigging personnel files. Starting to miss the days when this was someone else's job.

[it deserves reveling, this glowing new dimension to the comfortable routine of sitting down together to hash out ship's business. smirks a little at Miles's brief sour expression, idly wondering if it would help to tell him how tempting it is to lean in and taste it, or better yet to skip the telling....]

Why d'you think I spent the day exploring downside? [figured they'd skip trying-to-break-up-fights-and-landing-in-medbay this month. exceedingly wry glance at the paper pile] Notice any trends? How many non-humans, super-people and children did we sign on in this round?

Edited 2016-03-11 08:22 (UTC)

[ miles makes a face and waves at the stack of files like he's going to shove them off the desk in sheer petulance, but he's an adult. mostly. ]

About as many as usual. The only trend is that I can't find any trends worth a damn. I'm not an analyst, but it all seems pretty random to me. In a way, it's almost comforting, but mostly, it's just maddening.

[eyes gleam at his petulance, entirely sympathetic to the impulse. will not be picking the papers up without help though. ^^

sighs, reaching over to pat his hand. he's not an analyst, no, but his people instincts are a force to be reckoned with; if he can't find a pattern in this mess, no one can.]

I did enjoy my stretch in Intelligence, but I don't envy you this. Did you spend all night on it? [particularly having no power to act on the information in ways involving sending practically everyone back where they came from. pensive look, glancing in the approximate direction of the planet they're orbiting] It's going to be enlightening, seeing who takes the hunters up on their call for extra hands. Not a healthy line of work, from what I saw.

Unhealthy is a generous way of putting it. [ miles frowns, nibbling at his thumb. ] I suppose one some level, it's not that different from mercenary work, but something about it all just rubs me the wrong way. Call me paranoid, but...

[ hell, he's inclined to call himself paranoid, seeing as how disinclined he is to trust any of the planets they dock at -- but then, prior experience hasn't given him much reason to expect otherwise. it always goes fucking wrong. ]

All night? I...think so. [ he checks the date on his MID and squints. ] And possibly the night before that. Don't worry, I slept a little yesterday.

[ 'a little' means a couple of hours light dozing until he's too jittery to stay still or too haunted by dreams to want to stay asleep. no wonder he looks like such a wreck. but he's got a mug of coffee on his desk -- not quite hot anymore, but he reaches for it to gulp half of it down. lord vorcaffeine, miles's true favorite folk hero ]

'Paranoid'. [grins; sighs] But I am too. There's something a little too self-congratulatory about hunters building a death museum of their victims' bones. There were detailed anatomical displays -- fascinating; whoever assembled them knows their job -- but I don't understand why they can't synthesize the mineral instead of going to all this trouble. The emphasis they put on the creatures being just dumb animals....

[was working up to a fine old rant, but trails off at the vague statement. too tired to even think of dodging the question? you stay away from that cup, Miles; Bel's just going to intercept your hand and try to hold it instead.]

Paranoid and sleep-deprived? [the alto is light and warm, affectionately teasing.] It's high time they assign you an assistant. The crew's big enough to warrant a personnel department by now.

[ miles huffs out a laugh at that, though his expression dims a little, his mouth twisting. ]

Sounds like something you'd find in one of the tamer sectors of Jackson's Whole. But then, I suppose tame is relative...

[ his look goes plaintive and just a little flat when bel takes the hand reaching for his mug, but he doesn't pull away, twining his fingers with bel's to give their hand a squeeze. he heaves out a little sigh. ]

Yeah, well, I don't have one. Maybe I oughta draft Ivan. Ha. [ he actually snorts out a laugh at that, but the idea is sort of tempting. he's stuck running the bar all by himself since jacky disappeared. he...misses jacky. ] But, since it still is my job, I need to at least be awake to do it.

[ so he's just gonna reach across with his other hand for that coffee.

Tame is as tame does.... [bites lip. animals are animals, but this is just... over the top. much better to stroke Miles's knuckles with their thumb, sighing at the warmth of his grip. ~~have fun reaching across the handgrip for your coffee, Miles.~~~~]

If you did draft Ivan, or someone... [voice goes low and sweet] I could think of better things to do with your time. And energy.

[seducing you to get you away from the paperwork? naaaah they'd be doing this anyway.<3 wry glance at the paper pile; why doesn't Miles have an assistant by this time, come to think of it?]

Nothing in there could be that urgent, could it? Why can't it wait till morning?

Edited 2016-03-21 20:18 (UTC)

It's not urgent, it's that there is so much of it.

[ miles lowers his head to his desk with a plaintive groan. very mature and adult-like. ]

I'm so backlogged, Bel. I'm a pretty good swimmer, and even I think I might drown in all this paperwork. Reviewing the new personnel files alone is just...

[ he lets the sentence trail off into a discontented gurgle in the back of his throat. but bel's hand is warm around his, and they are a much more tempting notion than this looming pile of paperwork... miles lifts his head from his desk with a great sigh, twining his fingers with bel's. ]

You know I'm never one to shirk responsibility, Bel. [ a beat, then his mouth quirks up slightly, his eyes lighting up. ] But if I were to suffer from a temporary episode of very selective amnesia as to what my responsibilities are...

I don't know how, but the things you shirk never turn out to have been worth doing anyway. [fondly, soothing fingers stroking the back of his head. ~~there might have been a double meaning there once, but not anymore; Bel's greatly enjoying its inapplicability.<3~~ shirk responsibility? he's always taken more on himself than anyone, passing things on to others only through the necessity borne by having so many areas of responsibility. is it the relative simplicity and repetitiveness of the task that has him trying to wrap himself around the whole thing at once?

eyes bright in turn] I don't think it even has to slip your mind -- the most urgent part of this mess is to assign yourself a competent paper-pusher and let them distill it all for you. And I don't see that form in front of you at the moment.

[leans forward, chin on hand, impish smile almost brushing Miles's fingers. he'll figure it out. he always does.<3]

Barring that, there's always the amnesia.~

I am the competent paper-pusher, Bel.

[ and then he winces at that. it is almost physically painful to say that out loud. so instead he leans into bel's touch at the back of his head, letting a little tension trickle out of him. he's leery to relax too much, he might just pass out altogether, and he doesn't want that -- not today, anyway -- but he touches his fingers to bel's lips with a little flutter of satisfaction. he widens his eyes in mock bewilderment. ]

Amnesia? What amnesia?

[ he can't suppress the grin that follows, and he rises in his chair just enough to lean across the table, closer to bel. ]

Are you. Who're you and what have you done with Miles?

[the specter of Mark seems faint and remote from here, safely made fair game for the wicked humor to which Miles had always responded so beautifully. Bel would undertake to pick the original out of an army of clone-siblings, now. leans full weight on the table so he won't have to far to go, lips brushing his knuckles, his wrist, drawing him in to kiss the corner of his mouth, heart jumping at his texture, the scent of his skin... this hadn't exactly been Bel's plan for this meeting, but it's rapidly moving to the high end of the agenda.]

I don't know -- [a low murmur against his lips] Were we talking about something?

[don't stop -- yes. right under what do you sound like this tired and stop being vertical.]

[ miles's heart jumps in his chest, just as twitchy as the rest of him, but he feels warm and he grins against bel's mouth, sliding a hand up bel's arm to brush at their shoulder. ]

Not that I can recall.

[ he leans forward a little more, half-draped across the desk now just to press his mouth to bel's for a proper kiss. ]

[~~oh God. should have worn the nice lingerie instead of the regular ship's thermals.~~

the awkward angle just makes it more electric; Bel wraps a supportive arm around him, the other hand cradling his jaw, the proper kiss threatening to turn decidedly improper as all the right nerves light up by happy association. his hands are scorching, even through the uniform fabric, but his small body jitters with exhaustion.

if Miles had called last night, they'd have tried to help him go through it all; tonight, they can help him to put it down.]

Miles.... [sliding further over the desk to press against him, as closely as possible from this angle] Come to bed with me?

[the alto is near-breathless, between slow kisses at Miles's throat and the corner of his jaw, and then Bel raps knuckles gently on the desk, not quite managing the ironic deadpan the situation needs.] ...Assuming you're not planning to sleep on this.

[there must be sleeping arrangements hidden somewhere in this office paradise, right?]

Well, when you ask like that...

[ miles's grin is catlike and deeply pleased, and yes, this is totally working on him, because it has hardly occurred to him to suspect subterfuge. the angle over the desk is decidedly awkward, though, and after a warm hum and a shiver at bel's lips on his throat he draws back, shoving his chair back so he can get to his feet. he wraps a hand around bel's arm, though, tugging them in once the desk is no longer between them. he lets out a breathless laugh. ]

Ha, no. Contrary to recent habit, I do actually prefer to sleep in a bed.

[ miles hits a button on the wall, and the tall cabinets behind his desk unfold into a full-size bed. he jerks his head at it with a grin of deep self-satisfaction at bel. ]

Not bad, eh? At least Ivan didn't override me on that one.

[does indeed ask like that.<3 already rising at the pull of Miles's hand, warmed all over by that look, drawn to him as by gravity. he barely comes up to Bel's shoulder, his normally solid frame unsteady with sleep-loss; it's achingly sweet to wrap so tightly around him. for all he's traditionally preferred his partners taller, to Bel he's nothing short of perfect -- sleep is on the menu, yes (and nothing else would have been if Miles had seemed too tired to know what he was doing), but the muffled groan of bliss as Bel melts against him is exactly what it sounds like.

from here, Miles could probably back Bel up against the desk and -- well, they can always explore its other virtues later. likewise the bark of surprised laughter as the bed springs free with an enthusiasm entirely suited to the circumstances. and there's that grin again, as if Miles had invented beds and all that went with them, and Bel has to pull him up and kiss him breathless again. is it still subterfuge if you're both on the same side?]

...oh, that'll do very nicely-- [running a thumb down his spine. and it looks so comfortable, too. all it needs is candles; they can pick up a few holographic ones next time the ship finds a civilized planet. maybe some soft music.... but they'll do just fine without the accessories.]

[ miles catch-all: one-way train to crazy town ]

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