sixthiterationlogs | [must be strangely exciting to watch the stoic squirm]

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[must be strangely exciting to watch the stoic squirm]

WHO: Major Lilywhite
WHERE: All around the village
WHEN: Sept 19/20
OPEN TO: OTA, specific starters for different characters; please feel free to have your character run into Major at any point during his re-clothing.
WARNINGS: Nudity?

The Hot Spring. Ever since Major had found out about it, he made a point to stop there a few times a week, if not once a day. Although he didn't rely on them the way some people did, he liked having a few things in his life that were more or less routine, and it didn't take long for him to incorporate the almost-scalding, healing waters into what had now become his daily life in the village.

He'd even made the act of going to the spring a bit of a routine in itself, taking his items of clothing off one by one before folding them up and setting them off to the side - far enough away from the water's edge that they didn't risk getting soaked, but not so far that he couldn't see them if he needed to. It always went pants, shirt, underwear (which he sandwiched between the pants and shirt, to keep some kind of modesty in case someone else were to come meandering by), and today hadn't been any different.

Except for when he had crawled out of the water, letting himself air dry for a few minutes, then went to the retrieve his clothing.

Because when he goes to collect his things, he's met with the very unpleasant sight of them being completely .. gone. Nada. Zilch. Kaput.

"That's .. unfortunate," he mutters to himself, glancing around at the surrounding brush. Maybe he'd put them somewhere else, and hadn't remembered. After scouring the bushes and grass along the perimeter, he comes up just as empty handed - and just as naked - as he'd started. "Crap." Not that Major gets easily embarrassed about being in the wind, but - he usually likes it to be his decision to be wandering around in his birthday suit, rather than having it foisted upon him in some very bad practical joke. "Ha-ha, okay, okay, I get it!" he shouts, thinking that maybe the perpetrator might be nearby, mindfully using both hands to cover his most sensitive areas. "Play a joke on the new guy, right? I set myself up for it, putting my stuff off to the side - but like, c'mon! You can't expect me to walk around the village naked! Can I have my stuff back? .. Please?"

When he's met with silence, he realizes he has no other choice but to try and track down his clothing, one article at a time.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The first person who Major would've thought of to have played this kind of practical joke would be Ravi. Pay back for his own promise to do an encore of Princess Sparkles using twigs and berries and pebbles, given the lack of accessibility to glitter, perhaps. So it's straight back to their shared cabin, with Major still using his hands as a cup over his crotch, trying to carefully move from tree to tree, bush to bush, feeling like he's been transplanted straight out of a friggin' Looney Tunes cartoon. He could even come up with his own silly, suspenseful theme music with each step, if he wanted.

Which .. he does. Just to make this a little less embarrassing.

Once at the cabin itself, he manages to sneak in unnoticed. He goes to his own room to see if he can simply grab one of his extra pairs of clothes, but finds that they, too, have been "misplaced." Major lets out a groan as he wanders from room to room, one hand at his crotch, the other being used to open doors.

"Dude, like, I get it, okay? I won't pull a Princess Sparkles if you just give me my stuff back. We could've talked about this like rational adults instead of stealing clothes and making me hum my own theme song in the bushes, but like .. Point taken. Your beard will remain pebble-twig-and-berry-free."

Ravi's been at the hospital for the most part lately, trying to figure out how to figure out what's in that specimen room and whether he's somehow been helping to feed into that. Things are going on, but when Major comes back home in the middle of Ravi taking notes and sounds wildly mad, he wonders if there's been a lift in shroom discovery around the village or whether...

Wait, why is Major naked? "If this is some very late in life Chippendale fantasy, I'm not sure I like it under our roof," he says, mildly wary and uncomfortable as he stares at Major and looks at the tip of Major's hair and then up to the ceiling to avoid looking at particular things. "This is never going to be a nudity positive house," he says, "Please don't beg me to let that start."

"Okay, first of all?" Major says, almost going to lift a hand in protest but remembering, at the last minute, to keep it secured firmly over his very exposed and very naked crotch. He uses the other one to point an accusatory finger, however. "Don't body shame me and be all weird about nakedness, okay? I think the world would have a lot less problems if people embraced nakedness a little bit more. And it's not like you haven't seen me in a towel or whatever before, this isn't that different. Secondly, I would be an amazing Chippendale's dancer, thanks, and remind me to show you some of my moves once I've got at least one article of clothing to cover up my bits."

Purposefully, because he knows it's making Ravi uncomfortable, he takes a few steps forward. He hides the mischievous smirk that tugs at the corners of his lips.

"Thirdly, I have no idea what happened. I was taking a dip in the hot spring, which I do pretty much every morning, and when I got out, all of my clothes were gone. Underwear included. You're going to tell me you had nothing to do with it? Nothing? Cause this is a classic prank that even you could've come up with on your own, and you're going to have to try harder than that to convince me that you didn't do it."

Ravi lets out a pained little sound of protest in the back of his throat when Major lifts the hand the slightest inch, squeezing one eye shut as hard as he can and only breathing out the pinched press of relief from the weight on his chest when he realizes that he's not about to see Major in any compromising situations that might require obscene amounts of vodka to bleach from his mind. "No one could possibly body shame you, you're Michelangelo's dream model," is his heavy, sarcastic reply.

"Not that I want to be the one looking," he adds sharply. "And I am more than content to say that I am blameless in this," he insists, gesturing to the mess of papers around him, not to mention the half-full mug of tea that's lukewarm by now. "See? I haven't moved in the last hour. Also, are you really telling me that I'm the only suspect? Mr. No Body Shame? Maybe some eager female saw an opportunity?" Ravi feels compelled to point out.

"Have you seen the Statue of David? I mean, give me some credit. The dude is tiny." Major holds his fingers up (on his free hand, of course), with only a little gap between his thumb and forefinger. "I mean, you don't have first-hand visual knowledge, but .. trust me. Give me some biological credit where it's due, man." He knows, from the recesses of his Classics classes (or, at least, the ones he can remember and the ones he paid attention in) that small, ahem, packages were considered a sign of beauty back in Ancient Greece, but .. Major can't help but huff a little at the comparison now. Even if he knows what he's getting at, with the muscles and everything.

Major glances at the items in order as Ravi points them out. His story seems to check out, but Major's still not convinced.

"What?" He makes a face. "No, that sort of thing only happens in the movies. I don't know what 'eager females' you're thinking of or have imagined me with, but I don't think that's what happened. I still think you're to blame somehow. This is kind of like, your default state," he says, gesturing vaguely with one hand at the mess of papers and half-cup of tea. "This doesn't prove anything.'

"Art, not really my thing," Ravi confesses, because he'd much rather be knee-deep in catacombs and ancient genetics in Italian cities than sitting in art galleries, which does make him a terrible tourist partner, which he absolutely knows about, and accepts. It's why he's very careful to make sure that anyone he dates knows they're not getting Mr. Cultural out of him.

He's still glancing to the side of Major, avoiding eye-contact and other-parts-contact because he wants to be able to look at Major in the future without endless embarrassment.

"I promise, I didn't run off to find where you were bathing just to hide things and then sprint back here. For one, I don't sprint," Ravi clarifies, "so if I had, wouldn't I be sweaty and out of breath and potentially suffering a cardiac arrest? And two, I would pull such a better prank."

"Right, right. The science and all that. I bet if I asked you what the most beautiful thing is that you've ever seen in a petri dish, you'd never shut up, right?" The corner of Major's lips tug into a slight grin. "But hey, at least you know who Michaelangelo is, aside from the Turtle." He can't help but let out a quiet laugh at how utterly consistent Ravi is. It's refreshing. Or .. well, would be, had he been standing there properly clothed.

He won't lie about how amusing it is to see Ravi all squirmy and squeamish at the mere thought of catching a glimpse of his BFF's junk.

Like he's never seen a penis before.

"You could've taken your time. I was in there for a while. I mean, I know that like, time and whatever doesn't really exist here the way it did back home? But I think I was in there for at least 20 minutes. Maybe 30? I don't know, time is a man-made construct and whatever. But it would've been plenty of time for you to come back at your regular, leisurely pace." Though the second argument makes him pause. "That, however, is true. Huh. So .. any ideas? If you didn't do it? Any idea where my underwear might be?"

Ravi keeps up the dubious look the more that Major keeps speaking, because even with a thirty minute head start, he would probably still have a fair sheen of sweat on his face and be panting, because he is not the sort of athletic person that anyone would want on any sports team. It's like his childhood catching up to him.

"I'll have you know that the most beautiful thing I've seen in the morgue happened to be a very artistic shape of a fatal blow to someone's leg," he counters, which probably doesn't make him sound anything but creepy.

"I keep going back to interested women," he says apologetically. "You're sure no one's shown interest in seeing you sans-pants?"

"That's .. not .. reassuring, pal," Major says with a slightly contorted expression. "Like, not at all. That sorta talk might work well for Dr. Magnus and all, but I was a jock, remember? Even though I did the whole .. eating brains thing there for a while, I don't really wanna know or hear about catastrophic deaths any more than the next non-zombie-fied guy." But, that gives him pause. "How does someone die from a blow to the leg?" He shakes his head, like he isn't entirely sure he wants to know the answer to that.

"Uh," Major thinks, glancing up, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He uses his free hand to fiddle with his earlobe. "I don't think so? I mean, I don't know, I don't really pay attention to that sorta stuff. It's not like I'm walking around in a cloud of cologne, demanding women fawn over me."

"Infection, mostly," Ravi says, with the knowledge of a man who's seen some truly banal deaths in his time, making him think that if he ever goes out, at least it probably won't be in the truly terrible ways that he's seen happen to other people in his time.

"And yet, women do end up fawning over your oblivious arse," Major complains. He's used to his handsome friend being the more magnetic of the two of them, which is a grievous mistake as far as Ravi is concerned, yet, it does seem to happen. "We should get you in some clothes. This got awkward five minutes ago."

"You .. totally didn't have to answer that, man," Major says with a groan and a wince, regretting the fact that he'd voiced his mostly rhetorical question aloud (of course, he didn't make it sound all that rhetorical, so it's really his own fault). Major makes a gagging sound out of pure reflex, thinking and imagining that a sight like that must've looked like. "Surgeon Simulator: Real Life Edition, ugh."

He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner. All right, yeah, he knows that he's a good-looking guy, he'd be dumb to deny that, but fawning women? He doesn't think so. Then again, he's honestly never really noticed.

"I mean, you're the one with the magnificently thick beard and the British accent. I've got neither of those things going for me." He glances down at his strategically placed hand. "Yeah, let's do that. Of course, all of the things I could've worn or wanted to wear are missing, so - that puts me at a disadvantage. Are you sure you don't want me to just go European and walk around in the nude?"

"You asked," Ravi says defensively, because what's the point in having a topic you're an expert in if you never get to actually show that off? It's just pointless, then. "Also, I'm not the surgeon, that's your ex," he points out. "I'm the one who cuts open the dead bodies and takes apart your organs while definitely not comparing them to chips that look like the Virgin Mary," he dryly notes.

"The accent is pretty helpful," he admits cheerfully, "though down-home american pie homebodyness is nothing to frown at," he admits. "Also, we are now establishing a no nudity clause in the house," he adds cheerfully. "If you break the rule, I'm moving back in with my other, more clothed male friend."

"I know, but you should know that I'm always asking questions because I have a thirst for knowledge, but because I'm an idiot most of the time, a good number of those questions - especially ones involving infections and amputations and all - should go unanswered." Major's going to dream about the infected leg, he knows it. He's not going to be able to get the imagined image out of his head for weeks.

Damn it.

Mention of Liv, even without a name, tightens up Major's features slightly - but talk of chips that look like the Virgin Mary is an easy enough distraction to latch onto.

"At some point, when I've got all of my clothes, I wanna hear more about that - that, uh .. Virgin Mary thing, cause it sounds like one of those Public Access shows, like that lady with the Devil Toast." He makes a face at his friend before relinquishing and rolling his eyes. "Fine. It's your loss anyway, pal."

"Is this why you never visited during working hours?" Ravi asks. "Here I thought you just didn't want to ever talk to me," he adds, with a hand pressed over his heart like he's heartbroken by all of this when, really, Major is completely right and probably shouldn't be visiting in the middle of autopsies and them cutting apart a body.

He also gestures and flicks towards where the clothes live, keeping his eyes averted. "This is why I should have been allowed to post the things I see on Instagram," he complains. "Stupid propriety." He keeps averting, even though it's starting to get exhausting, if he's honest.

"On you go, get decent!"

"I mean, you know. Avoiding my ex was also a pretty big priority for a while there," Major says over his shoulder as he finally gets going towards the clothes. "And obviously, not wanting to talk to you." He picks through a few things before finally settling on something insanely out of character - for himself, at least. All the while, he can't help but giggling to himself at the fact that he feels so very much like a character on Downton Abbey, getting ready for the Cricket match. Once re-clothed, he turns towards Ravi with his arms out at either side to display himself.

He's in a sweater vest combo. And suddenly, Major looks incredibly British.

"I don't feel decent. But I do feel like everyone, you included, should start calling me Lord Grantham, because like hell if I'm gonna be Thomas."

Ravi makes a face, because he's absolutely being mocked. "If you spill anything on that, I am actually going to go through all your actual clothes and cut very revealing nipple holes in them, then you'll always have to deal with that," Ravi warns, because he feels like his sweatervests should be holy territory and untouchable.

"Can we go back to the part where someone stole your clothes? If it wasn't a woman trying to be cute and flirty, what actually happened? Lord Grantham," he adds, with a droll, dry addition, affecting a mini-bow.

"You know I'd rock that like when they tried to pull that stunt like Regina George. You'll see. The next thing we know, everyone's gonna be walking around with nipple holes cut out of their shirts," Major says with an accusatory and confident finger pointed in Ravi's direction. He then places an erect finger over each of his nipples (on top of the sweater vest, obviously), and sways from side to side. "Just imagine it. Since you brought it up. I think you secretly enjoy seeing me in the nude, otherwise you wouldn't have suggested getting a free peep show of my nipples!" He curls up and straightens his fingers a few times like inch worms.

The Lord Grantham name makes a shit-eating grin break out on Major's face.

"Perhaps a suitor for one of my wealthy, eligible daughters trying to blackmail me into giving them a ransom, like when that woman tried to create a scandal over Mary's tryst with Tony Gillingham as a widow," he says, thinking better of attempting a bad British accent but instead donning a snooty-sounding cadence instead.

"I don't want to imagine that, I will have nightmares," he guarantees, grimacing as he considers some of the people around the village that he doesn't even want to see with their shirt off, let alone with only nipples poking out, which just makes him wish he hadn't brought it up in the first place.

"See, no, no, I don't want to imagine nipples of any kind, that's just horrifying."

He makes a face and feels like his whole background is being attacked, though, giving Major a disbelieving look. "Can we not ruin my love of Downton Abbey while also giving me nightmares? I'd appreciate it, really."

Major keeps curling and uncurling his fingers over his nipples, if only because it seems to make Ravi so uncomfortable. The guy should have learned by now that if he acts like he doesn't care, Major's gonna lose interest real fast. But the more awkward he gets, the funnier the pay off, and the more Major's gonna be a jerk.

A loving, appreciative jerk. But a jerk. (Isn't that what friends are for?)

"Dude, you use to be around dead bodies all the time. Did you like, place black censor bars over their nipples and crotch when you did your autopsies on them? Or is it just living bodies that make you sweat?" he asks, continuing to inchworm his fingers for good measure.

"Can you .. can you just indulge me? For like, a second? How often am I going to be gifted the opportunity to wear a sweater vest?"

"They were dead, they didn't have time to make snappy little quips and retorts back at me. I mean, unless it was Blaine on that table," Ravi says, with all the irritation and annoyance that comes of even thinking about that man, which is quite a lot for someone who's usually fairly easy-going.

Sighing, Ravi decides that he has a few sweatervests, so he supposes that he can be generous. "All right, all right, fine," he allows, "but only because you're my best friend," he warns, not wanting everyone to think that it's borrowing time for his things.

Major's expression of amused joviality falters at the mention of Blaine. It's not a name he likes to think about, or hear, or pretend exists. It helps a bit that Ravi seems to carry the same amount of disgust for him, but Ravi also hadn't gotten a knife to the stomach thanks to aforementioned Blaine. Nor had he been locked in a freezer for god knows how long, then fed the brains of one of his favorite teens from the homeless shelter in a soup, just to fuck with him.

He clenches his jaw to let the moment pass, and once it does, he's back to being his usual, pleasant self.

"Aw, man," he says, tone earnest and touched. He places a hand on his chest. "Thanks. That means a lot to me." But enough of that real talk. He switches to the snooty voice again. "So how much do I have to pay for the ransom to keep my eldest daughter's name out of the papers and avoid a scandal to bring down the House of Grantham?"

"I think if we're talking me, you're going to have to start bringing me with as many sweet treats as you can find. Being here without a reliable vending machine is wreaking havoc on my desire to eat junk food," he says with an annoyed look on his face, pleased that Major's mood spell at the mention of Blaine seems to be gone.

Ravi gestures to the things that he's wearing with an approving nod. "Incidentally, you should be more Grantham more often, because that definitely looks better than your usual college football fare."

"Where am I getting the sweet treats from? It's not like I magically acquired baking XP or anything from being here," Major points out with a confused shrug. "I mean, I guess I could try to barter for some? Do you think they have those things down at the Inn? Or is this something that I need to petition for with the Box Gods?" That reminds him .. "I heard that you apparently got gifted some crazy load of ice cream at some point in the not-so-distant past." Just the mention of the stuff makes Major's teeth ache with desire for it. "How did you manage to score it? Did you collect a hundred signatures or something? Or was it a completely random surprise?"

Major squints with suspicious disapproval.

"Hey, look, okay? I like to be comfortable, and I see no point in being comfortable while also showing support for my favorite sports teams. It's called having spirit, and it's something you're apparently lacking." Don't get between Major and his sports, even in theory. God, what he wouldn't give to get an update on how the Seahawks are doing.

"Maybe that can be your hobby?" Ravi suggests, because personal trainers aren't really in demand, nor are zombie kidnappers, so if Major is out there looking for something to do, Ravi is more than happy to suggest this to him, with a helpful little shrug of his shoulders, like he's just speaking his mind.

"I did get an ice cream box, that was going to melt desperately, so I think it might have been this place's unsubtle hint that I needed to get my nose out of the rats and socialize more," he says, giving Major a face because ugh, football. "I still don't get the appeal. Why can't you just like rugby like a normal person?"

"What, baking? You seriously would trust putting anything that these made," he holds his hands up, palms out, "into your mouth? Honestly? When we barely have running water in this place, no antibacterial soap, and no real hygiene products to speak of. And you want me to take up baking as a hobby. Do you hear yourself when you speak, or does it all just come out, all charming-like with that accent of yours?"

Major playfully rolls his eyes with an added tsk! for good measure.

"Why can't you be normal and just root for the Seahawks like every other Seattleite? I'm also really disappointed that the only reason you got ice cream was because you're too much of a nerdy introvert who doesn't remember how to People often enough."

[must be strangely exciting to watch the stoic squirm]

.for ravi.

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