No sooner is it out of his mouth than he suddenly goes very still and very quiet. Hopefully, Taylor just doesn't notice. After a moment he lets out a small huff under his breath, shifting.
"Well- yeah?" Wait that seemed a little. He ticks back mentally through what Locus has said about Felix (since the dude is sort of omnipresent and relevant at the moment) and waits for whatever comes after.
Taylor shifts enough to tip his head up at Locus, eyes wide and worried as he changes the subject. "I'm gonna have to live here now, man."
Luna is asleep. He can't move. "Got a terminal case of cat lap."
Nothing comes after. He doesn't want to discuss Felix, even if it proves an eventuality. When York changes the subject, Locus noticeably relaxes, even if only by a few degrees of stiffness in his shoulders.
"Hm." And his eyes drift to where Luna is curled, little belly rising and falling as one paw rests over her tiny grey nose.
"For the record I'm very proud of your making jokes." He is. It fills a small part of him with warm fuzzy glee at tugging something out of Locus other than amused exasperation. "But this is serious. I can't move."
With all due mock seriousness because look at her. Look. At. Her. "I'm gonna spend the rest of my life as a Luna Bed."
He does have a dry sense of humor lurking under the surface, even if he does sometimes take things more literally than he ought to, or lacks the empathy to know his audience and pitch a joke correctly. Wry observations and sarcasm? That he can do.
And Locus tips his head, brushing a little closer to York's as he does so, to observe the sweetly sleeping animal. "I'm sure she's very grateful."
"I dunno, this is pretty terrible." So terrible. It's torture, rubbing the top of her head while she makes soft little kitten snores. Tiny little squeaks at irregular intervals. Maybe he should get...something.
The doctor was pretty adamant that it'd help him remember to take care of himself and stuff.
"It's nice, isn't it? Having someone to come home to."
Locus frowns thoughtfully, considering how the past few days have already altered considerably, with an unpredictable little creature running around.
"Before, returning here was something like stasis. I felt detached. That sense of unreality you mentioned?" Maybe not quite as severe as considering this all some post-mortem hallucination, but disassociating all the same.
"Different can be good." Or Jarring. Or. Stimulating- something to get you to move.
"Might be worth looking into, I dunno. Adding some stuff in here that's just for you but not connected to your time back home? That's sort of worked for me." A little. Then again Locus has a fucking adorable kitten now so that's something.
He's...not much for decorating. Letting things accumulate tended to result in fidgeting, something he'd like to avoid if possible. But York has a point. Something stimulating doesn't sound like so terrible a thing.
"Paintings?" Decorating isn't a thing for him so much as his place was an accumulation of 'what adults with homes have' and some expansions on the same. "Houseplants that won't be bad for her to chew on, cuz some cats do that."
Pissed his mom off something fierce.
"I dunno, man, what do you like that isn't work, training, or getting sloshed on the beach with me and Azucar?" A beat. "Or yelling at Wash?"
"I do not enjoy yelling at him," he replies with an annoyed huff, before considering the matter.
"...I enjoyed playing pool, before." Before everything happened. In that nebulous space between soldier and bounty hunter. The angles involved, the focus required, calmed him. There is room, he supposes after a look around, for a billiards table.
"It's okay to say you do. It's fun. He turns all kinds of shades of purple and his voice gets all squeaky and you think he might pop a blood vessel but he doesn't." Yet. "It's like- a once a month kinda thing to do, not nightly."
That'd get fucking exhausting.
Pool, now- he knows very little about. Other than there are basic rules and angles and Gabe was kind of a beast at it but- "We could find someone planetside that knows what pool is."
"I do not enjoy antagonizing anyone. Pointless squabbling is hardly beneficial to anyone." Alright, maybe getting one in on Felix had been satisfying now and then, only to see that momentary surprise when Locus snapped back.
Not necessarily the healthiest thing to admit to.
"Perhaps...more soft areas for the kitten to relax on."
And maybe more than just the kitten. But Luna serves as good an excuse as any.
"Sometimes it's cathartic. Or how you choose to bond or whatever." He waves a hand vaguely. "Don't expect me to understand your relationship with Wash, man. It's an enigma wrapped in mystery."
That may or may not be romantic.
Maybe.
Probably not but the idea is a little funny to him.
"Sofas and stuff? Throw pillows. Those are a thing, right?"
Clearly. The cat is who this is being considered for, entirely. The same reason York is staying precisely where he is, because the dear sweet kitten could not possibly be moved at this point.
"That doesn't sound like a terrible idea," he admits, after a moment.
"I don't think I've ever seen that." A cat on a leash, kitten or grown. Wash probably wield think you could herd a cat, kinda explains his trend of trying to herd misfits nowadays
"There are a number of things I would have thought impossible before meeting him." Locus shrugs. "He may be onto something. I suppose it costs nothing to try."
That's what all this is supposed to be, right? Trying to push in new directions, seek new horizons. View himself as something else, challenge himself to be capable of new things.
He falls quiet again. It wouldn't do to ramble unnecessarily.
"Fighting for a cause I believed in. Doing things for myself. Making friends, allowing myself to..."
To feel. Or rather, to recognize those feelings and not immediately push them away. Not all of them. To embrace what he's been given rather than risk losing anything that means something to him.
"Be a person rather than a machine of war?" You're never not a soldier- but being someone more than that? It takes time. Takes work. Takes practice and something to ground you and York's pretty sure he's only got that about half the time. But when he's got this?
It's easier to think that maybe he's got it right.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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No sooner is it out of his mouth than he suddenly goes very still and very quiet. Hopefully, Taylor just doesn't notice. After a moment he lets out a small huff under his breath, shifting.
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Taylor shifts enough to tip his head up at Locus, eyes wide and worried as he changes the subject. "I'm gonna have to live here now, man."
Luna is asleep. He can't move. "Got a terminal case of cat lap."
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"Hm." And his eyes drift to where Luna is curled, little belly rising and falling as one paw rests over her tiny grey nose.
"We'll have Washington move your things in."
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With all due mock seriousness because look at her. Look. At. Her. "I'm gonna spend the rest of my life as a Luna Bed."
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He does have a dry sense of humor lurking under the surface, even if he does sometimes take things more literally than he ought to, or lacks the empathy to know his audience and pitch a joke correctly. Wry observations and sarcasm? That he can do.
And Locus tips his head, brushing a little closer to York's as he does so, to observe the sweetly sleeping animal. "I'm sure she's very grateful."
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The doctor was pretty adamant that it'd help him remember to take care of himself and stuff.
"It's nice, isn't it? Having someone to come home to."
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Locus frowns thoughtfully, considering how the past few days have already altered considerably, with an unpredictable little creature running around.
"Before, returning here was something like stasis. I felt detached. That sense of unreality you mentioned?" Maybe not quite as severe as considering this all some post-mortem hallucination, but disassociating all the same.
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"Might be worth looking into, I dunno. Adding some stuff in here that's just for you but not connected to your time back home? That's sort of worked for me." A little. Then again Locus has a fucking adorable kitten now so that's something.
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He's...not much for decorating. Letting things accumulate tended to result in fidgeting, something he'd like to avoid if possible. But York has a point. Something stimulating doesn't sound like so terrible a thing.
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Pissed his mom off something fierce.
"I dunno, man, what do you like that isn't work, training, or getting sloshed on the beach with me and Azucar?" A beat. "Or yelling at Wash?"
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"...I enjoyed playing pool, before." Before everything happened. In that nebulous space between soldier and bounty hunter. The angles involved, the focus required, calmed him. There is room, he supposes after a look around, for a billiards table.
Provided they could find one.
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That'd get fucking exhausting.
Pool, now- he knows very little about. Other than there are basic rules and angles and Gabe was kind of a beast at it but- "We could find someone planetside that knows what pool is."
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Not necessarily the healthiest thing to admit to.
"Perhaps...more soft areas for the kitten to relax on."
And maybe more than just the kitten. But Luna serves as good an excuse as any.
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That may or may not be romantic.
Maybe.
Probably not but the idea is a little funny to him.
"Sofas and stuff? Throw pillows. Those are a thing, right?"
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Locus makes a considering noise. "Perhaps things with texture. They would feel nice against her paws."
Again, maybe projecting here, but it's a little less weird when they're talking about the cat.
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Just Luna, not for Locus.
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"That doesn't sound like a terrible idea," he admits, after a moment.
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"He seriously got you a harness for her?" Walking a cat- how's that for an image m
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It's the oddest thing, but Wash seems to know a good deal about cats. Perhaps he ought to take some of it into account.
"I believe the idea was training her at a young age, so it wasn't strange to her later on."
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That's what all this is supposed to be, right? Trying to push in new directions, seek new horizons. View himself as something else, challenge himself to be capable of new things.
Which apparently includes cats on leashes, now.
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How they got from there to here? Blanks in the pattern. And a curious guy like him can't levee them empty.
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"Fighting for a cause I believed in. Doing things for myself. Making friends, allowing myself to..."
To feel. Or rather, to recognize those feelings and not immediately push them away. Not all of them. To embrace what he's been given rather than risk losing anything that means something to him.
Couldn't lose what you didn't have, didn't claim.
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It's easier to think that maybe he's got it right.
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Something pulls the edges of his eyes tight, mouth thinning into a rigid line.
"Felix...wasn't entirely responsible for that. I wanted to believe him. To believe that's all I was."
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