[That's it, then. This was the last card he could think to play, and it's too much right now. Magpie can't help it, so Charles decides to hold onto the idea for later, but to let it go for now. In the wake of ramping himself up to try and tell this man about something that's always a struggle to pull from himself, he isn't left feeling much, beyond sympathy and fatigue.
He can't help but think that this is why he's never felt tempted by psychiatry or counselling. His patience isn't lacking, but both are full of moments like these: where there isn't a perfect cure he can call to mind, and administer to heal someone. The mind is more layered than that, and helping someone is usually a team effort. It's not something he'll pretend to understand anywhere near as well as he does traditional medicine. It's frustrating, to feel like his hands are tied behind his back, but it's something he has to accept.
Sitting down beside Magpie, he lays a solid hand on the man's shoulder.]
When you can, go to the room you're planning on staying in, and try to rest. [That's obvious, he's sure, but it still feels like it needs to be said.] I can help you there if you need it.
( This'll all be easier later, when he's not so amped up on-- adrenaline and anxiety and so much care in his direction that he could literally tear his hair out. He tried. He really fucking did. But he pushed himself too hard and now he wants to run along the beach until he's done several laps without turning around.
He feels-- bad for this. Really fucking bad. He shouldn't have done this today. He should've asked for another day. Another time. More time. Anything else to prepare himself. Or something. Fuck, he doesn't know what he needs, but he just-- needs something.
Why did the city force this? Why?
He looks up briefly when Charles touches his shoulder, then drops his head again. Right. Can't just leave him like this (even though he absolutely can) after all this. Another sigh and he drags his hand up the back of his head and shrugs. )
Sure. Don't think-- could get a room right now anyway. ( Speech is hard, and the last thing most of these motels want is to rent out a room to a lone Sub. At least if he goes in with another guy, one who can still speak clearly at that, clerks are less likely to turn him away on sight. )
Very well. Let's find you something you'll be able to get a decent night's rest in. [Aka, not one of the known motels that rent out for the purposes of whatever BDSM activity of the day people are doing. Nobody needs that kind of noise, even if they aren't at the tail end of a panic attack.
Charles gives Magpie's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and then rises, offering the man a hand to pull himself up. Whether he accepts or not, Charles gestures to the door to start them on their way.]
I doubt anyone will be keen to see to either one of us, but a Dominant's name should be enough. [Hopefully.] The rest may come down to money. [It's criminal, but it wouldn't be the first time that more money than expected has been able to get him something a shopkeeper was initially reluctant to let him have.]
( They're all decent enough for him when he sleeps like rock, but he's not in any state to tell Charles that. Fuck, he's not in a state to say anything right now, and he's kicking himself internally for even trying. This was the worst fucking idea, and now Charles is finally gonna figure out that it's time to ditch him and move the fuck on.
Hopefully. No, not-- not hopefully. That's-- it's bad. He doesn't want that? But also...
Fuck. His head aches and he needs that fucking whiskey Charles ordered for him. He groans as he gets to his feet with the vampire's help and nods. Right. Name. He can use Rosita's name. Hopefully she won't find out. )
Got enough for a night. ( It may wipe out all his cash, but whatever. That's just how it's got to be. He pushes down on his temple before stepping toward the door with a small amount of sway to his steps. Fuck fuck fuuuucking fuck everything is working against him right now.
He slams the whiskey as soon as they grab it at the bar and pulls out the cash needed to cover their drinks. Okay. Fuck. That's-- more money than he thought it would be, but whatever. Whatever because he fucking needed it. He'll steal something later to make up for it. Once he's slept.
With a sigh, he heads for the door. ) Come on. Need close-- place. Sure there's a few.
[Charles notes that swaying, but it doesn't look to him like the reeling of drunken ruin - not yet, anyway. It looks more like exhaustion, which means they're better off finding somewhere for the man sooner, rather than later. Charles follows Magpie out into the crisp and chill night, and starts them on their way to a part of the Up he doesn't know for being devoted to love hotels.
He says nothing as they walk, because he's ready for this evening to be over, too. There's so much to process, and it's all thinking that a good day's sleep will only help. He knows he doesn't want to abandon this man, and he trusts that he made his feelings clear tonight, but Magpie's still a brick wall. How much can he offer, without a path forward?
Not that the man didn't try. That much is painfully clear - he can see that Magpie tried in every heavy footfall and rough brush of fingers through dark curls. He appreciates it. It makes it feel worth it to give the man the time he seems to need to offer more.
It takes some searching and one misfire, but eventually the two men find a hotel that's at least not obviously a party zone. A short discussion with the concierge, and dropping of Rosita's and Thomas' names, are enough to persuade the reluctant native woman to accept their request, although she charges them double price. Charles surveys her critically, frowning severely. They aren't going to find better anywhere else in the Up, but it grates.
Charles presents a card, and instructs the woman to put half of it on him.]
You can pay me back when you're able. [Because, beyond not liking a kind gesture done for him, what he suspects Magpie likes even less, is being in anyone's debt.]
( Fucking natives. The overcharge nearly has Caden flipping the concierge out of her chair, and it's only Charles stepping in to pay half the cost of the room that stops him.
What the fuck. What the fuck??? He's not at all prepared for this. Ever, but especially not now when he's completely wrung out and on edge. Fuck fuck fuuuck he's gonna have to pick up an extra shift for that. Which-- is for the best because he's gonna be in the city when the place opens tomorrow anyway. It's (not) fine, so whatever. He'll make it work. He always fucking does. )
...yeah. I can do that. ( Eventually. He sighs as he throws cash at the concierge and then holds a hand out for his key. The woman seems reluctant to give it to him, but the card and the cash cover the cost and there's no one else around asking for rooms, so Magpie gets it after only a little bit of delay. The telekinetic doesn't bother thanking her as he steps away from the desk and waits for Charles to follow until they're out of earshot of the woman. Because she's gonna be nosy if they stay close, he fucking knows it. )
Gonna go up now. Get sleep. Maybe shower. ( ...fuck, he's gonna need to steal clothes tomorrow. Great. Just fucking--
whatever. That's tomorrow's problem. He sighs again and nods to the vampire. ) Thanks. For coming. ( Not to the hotel, but out to talk to him. He's too tired to make that clear. He's not sure he would even if he wasn't so fucking exhausted. There's no point in trying to figure it out right now anyway. )
We'll chat-- later, finish all this then. ( Whatever "this" even is between them. He frowns and then waves Charles off. ) I'll see you when I see you.
( It's the best and most polite "I'm going the fuck to sleep now" he can manage before he turns and heads to his room. Part of him hopes Charles isn't so offended that he doesn't answer his texts if he ever works up the courage to try this conversation again in the future. Another hopes this is the last time they ever see each other. With how this place keeps tossing him at people he already knows, seems more likely it'll be the first.
Fuck. He hopes he sleeps enough for this in the months it's gonna take him to be ready for Round 2. )
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mattersofscience) wrote2016-05-31 10:57 pm
no subject
He can't help but think that this is why he's never felt tempted by psychiatry or counselling. His patience isn't lacking, but both are full of moments like these: where there isn't a perfect cure he can call to mind, and administer to heal someone. The mind is more layered than that, and helping someone is usually a team effort. It's not something he'll pretend to understand anywhere near as well as he does traditional medicine. It's frustrating, to feel like his hands are tied behind his back, but it's something he has to accept.
Sitting down beside Magpie, he lays a solid hand on the man's shoulder.]
When you can, go to the room you're planning on staying in, and try to rest. [That's obvious, he's sure, but it still feels like it needs to be said.] I can help you there if you need it.
no subject
He feels-- bad for this. Really fucking bad. He shouldn't have done this today. He should've asked for another day. Another time. More time. Anything else to prepare himself. Or something. Fuck, he doesn't know what he needs, but he just-- needs something.
Why did the city force this? Why?
He looks up briefly when Charles touches his shoulder, then drops his head again. Right. Can't just leave him like this (even though he absolutely can) after all this. Another sigh and he drags his hand up the back of his head and shrugs. )
Sure. Don't think-- could get a room right now anyway. ( Speech is hard, and the last thing most of these motels want is to rent out a room to a lone Sub. At least if he goes in with another guy, one who can still speak clearly at that, clerks are less likely to turn him away on sight. )
no subject
Charles gives Magpie's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and then rises, offering the man a hand to pull himself up. Whether he accepts or not, Charles gestures to the door to start them on their way.]
I doubt anyone will be keen to see to either one of us, but a Dominant's name should be enough. [Hopefully.] The rest may come down to money. [It's criminal, but it wouldn't be the first time that more money than expected has been able to get him something a shopkeeper was initially reluctant to let him have.]
no subject
Hopefully. No, not-- not hopefully. That's-- it's bad. He doesn't want that? But also...
Fuck. His head aches and he needs that fucking whiskey Charles ordered for him. He groans as he gets to his feet with the vampire's help and nods. Right. Name. He can use Rosita's name. Hopefully she won't find out. )
Got enough for a night. ( It may wipe out all his cash, but whatever. That's just how it's got to be. He pushes down on his temple before stepping toward the door with a small amount of sway to his steps. Fuck fuck fuuuucking fuck everything is working against him right now.
He slams the whiskey as soon as they grab it at the bar and pulls out the cash needed to cover their drinks. Okay. Fuck. That's-- more money than he thought it would be, but whatever. Whatever because he fucking needed it. He'll steal something later to make up for it. Once he's slept.
With a sigh, he heads for the door. ) Come on. Need close-- place. Sure there's a few.
no subject
He says nothing as they walk, because he's ready for this evening to be over, too. There's so much to process, and it's all thinking that a good day's sleep will only help. He knows he doesn't want to abandon this man, and he trusts that he made his feelings clear tonight, but Magpie's still a brick wall. How much can he offer, without a path forward?
Not that the man didn't try. That much is painfully clear - he can see that Magpie tried in every heavy footfall and rough brush of fingers through dark curls. He appreciates it. It makes it feel worth it to give the man the time he seems to need to offer more.
It takes some searching and one misfire, but eventually the two men find a hotel that's at least not obviously a party zone. A short discussion with the concierge, and dropping of Rosita's and Thomas' names, are enough to persuade the reluctant native woman to accept their request, although she charges them double price. Charles surveys her critically, frowning severely. They aren't going to find better anywhere else in the Up, but it grates.
Charles presents a card, and instructs the woman to put half of it on him.]
You can pay me back when you're able. [Because, beyond not liking a kind gesture done for him, what he suspects Magpie likes even less, is being in anyone's debt.]
no subject
What the fuck. What the fuck??? He's not at all prepared for this. Ever, but especially not now when he's completely wrung out and on edge. Fuck fuck fuuuck he's gonna have to pick up an extra shift for that. Which-- is for the best because he's gonna be in the city when the place opens tomorrow anyway. It's (not) fine, so whatever. He'll make it work. He always fucking does. )
...yeah. I can do that. ( Eventually. He sighs as he throws cash at the concierge and then holds a hand out for his key. The woman seems reluctant to give it to him, but the card and the cash cover the cost and there's no one else around asking for rooms, so Magpie gets it after only a little bit of delay. The telekinetic doesn't bother thanking her as he steps away from the desk and waits for Charles to follow until they're out of earshot of the woman. Because she's gonna be nosy if they stay close, he fucking knows it. )
Gonna go up now. Get sleep. Maybe shower. ( ...fuck, he's gonna need to steal clothes tomorrow. Great. Just fucking--
whatever. That's tomorrow's problem. He sighs again and nods to the vampire. ) Thanks. For coming. ( Not to the hotel, but out to talk to him. He's too tired to make that clear. He's not sure he would even if he wasn't so fucking exhausted. There's no point in trying to figure it out right now anyway. )
We'll chat-- later, finish all this then. ( Whatever "this" even is between them. He frowns and then waves Charles off. ) I'll see you when I see you.
( It's the best and most polite "I'm going the fuck to sleep now" he can manage before he turns and heads to his room. Part of him hopes Charles isn't so offended that he doesn't answer his texts if he ever works up the courage to try this conversation again in the future. Another hopes this is the last time they ever see each other. With how this place keeps tossing him at people he already knows, seems more likely it'll be the first.
Fuck. He hopes he sleeps enough for this in the months it's gonna take him to be ready for Round 2. )