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.

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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."

"I mean, you can do breakfast?" Ravi feels compelled to point that out, because it seems like it shouldn't be that much of a terrifying leap to baking. "Also, if you're saying that we have hygiene issues, I'm going to force you to go see Helen because she has soap," he says. "Please don't tell me how you've been showering, honestly."

"A Seahawk shouldn't be playing football and also, it's such a wussy sport," he protests. "Why do they need so many helmets? Why can't they just face the consequences of pain?"

"With what? I can't just run out to the store and get Aunt Jemima's pancake mix, some eggs, some butter." The topic of food - or, really, it's shortage and limited supply - is apparently a little bit of a hot button topic for Major. It's not like he used to be all that indulgent when it came to food back in Seattle - with the occasional pizza every once in a while - but it's the fact that he had options back then. He could get pizza, go to the store and splurge on some ice cream or donuts, whatever. Here, he's lucky if he can put aside all of his ASPCA-heartstrings to get an animal to the inn to be killed for stew.

"OH! Helen has soap! Sam had told me that, early on. I just .. didn't put it together. Do you think she'd give me some if I asked?"

Major tosses his hands up in the air at Ravi completely shitting all over the sport of American Football.

"At least they don't get poked or tapped and throw a hissy fit on the middle of the field, like they do in some sports that are popular across the pond."

"I mean, I do have a slight in," he says, pinching his fingers together like he's not so badly off in Helen's favour, as if he isn't dating her and sleeping with her and is probably entitled to as much soap as he likes. That's apparently his lot in life now - soap haver. "Let me know what scent you like, I can get her to whip up a special batch of Major-scented soap."

"Sam?" Ravi echoes, raising a brow and moving past everything else. "Would this be Sam Moon? Major, are you making friends?" he can't help but tease. "Friends that aren't me? I'm half proud and half worried."

"Ooooh, Major-scented soap!" he exclaims with some excitement. Then it hits him. "This is really what we've been reduced to, huh? Getting excited over the prospect of having specially made soap from your Lady Friend? I also don't really care what kinda scent, as long as it will make me smell less like a caveman and more like a guy who's painfully too hipster to be living in this village but won't really admit it."

He pretends to act shocked and maybe hurt, putting a hand to his chest.

"I have lots of friends around the village, I'll have you know. Friends that aren't you and aren't imaginary." He sticks his nose up in the air a little before conceding, "Yes, if you must know. Sam as in Sam Moon. She does not like you, dude."

"It'll be painfully hipster, but given how close we were to Portland before, I'm fairly sure that we already absorbed some of that by osmosis," Ravi confesses, seeing as he still thinks that half of downtown Seattle has already been invaded, when you look closely enough. Hand to his chest, though, he has far greater concerns.

"What? I was perfectly polite!" he insists.

Sort of, a little.

Well, for him, he had been. "It's not my fault that I got a little over-interested in certain aspects of her life."

"Seattle was plenty hipster, man. I mean, we were not Portland, that's true, but we were damn close enough," Major says with a snorting scoff. "I don't hate the hipster movement in its entirety? I just hate the obnoxious jerks who took it too far. I wouldn't say no to one of those like, cold-pressed hand-brewed specially-poured feces-of-the-civet-cat-but-slightly-cheaper coffees that they all love right about now."

Major only offers a flat expression in return to that weak protest.

"I call bullshit. What did you do? I swear, her whole face dropped when I said I was your friend."

"There may have been a discussion about zombies," Ravi admits, because while he's a lot more lax about it here, it's not also what he leads with, but they'd been talking science and it had just sort of slipped out. It's not really his fault. "I thought maybe the curiosity about the topic and the ice cream would've made up for the fact that I came off like a bit of a mad scientist."

He hadn't thought it'd gone that badly, though. She'd been polite, she'd said thank you for the ice cream, and sure, he discussed supernatural events and zombies, but he's done that with other people. "Maybe it's just that she prefers your face to mine?"

"But .... what did you say about the zombies? That's .. kind of a broad statement. I mean, did you talk about .. what happened back home? Did you talk about your paranoid CDC firing for believing in the zombie apocalypse? Did you talk about how we take on the personality of the brains we eat? I mean, there are a lot of different directions you could've gone with it. But whatever you did do, she wasn't feeling it." Major also can't help but pointedly and exaggeratedly roll his eyes. "Dude, you stop that right now. You'd know I'd prefer your face to mine any day of the week, like, fifty to one."

"I said a lot," is what Ravi says about that, because once he'd got started, it really was fairly difficult to stop, especially when they were having a rousing and intelligent discussion about it. It's not like she'd walked away in disgust as soon as he brought it up.

"And fine, okay, so she wasn't feeling it, it's not like I smeared brain matter in her face," he says, a touch petulant, because he hadn't thought it was that bad. "Also, aw," he says, hand over his heart, "Do you have a bro-crush on me? That's so embarrassing," he teases.

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[must be strangely exciting to watch the stoic squirm]

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