[PRP] Definitely not a cat (Oliver & Horace)

[Melancholies]

"What, really?" He seemed surprised, but in a pleasant sort of way. Shiloh was good at finding his way out on accord of his magic, but he hadn't heard of people... seeing ways out so easily like that, but he supposed he could understand it. The way he found entrances in and out of Otherworld was a bit indescribable, but it gave him funny sorts of feelings.

"By all means, then." He started to walk with his hands awkwardly at his sides. If he could get them into his pockets maybe, get over the initial gross feeling, it might be better... He shuffled a little as he strode down the sidewalk, turning to make sure Horace was following, "So where do you work anyway? Some place interesting?"

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"Yeah, I don't get it. I've got sparky magic and seeing eyes; it's better than nothing." He shrugged. It was actually damn useful, so far. Horace followed Oliver sedately, keeping an eye out for any weird doors.

He eyed Oliver's hands for a second. "You sure your hands are okay? And I... I work a funeral home. I put the fun in funeral. Do you have a job or full time student?"

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"...a funeral home." He said, deadpan, "The fun in funeral." He did a very slow turn to Horace, "Oh my god. You're terrible." He cackled though, somewhat morbidly. It sounded like something Shiloh would say. Actually, Shiloh would probably be losing his s**t right now, saying something about how he needed that on a t-shirt.

"I work part-time at the 4th Wall. Wasn't my choice." He tried to ignore the gentle swish swish of his tail as he walked, "Actually, wasn't my choice at all. I never worked there in the old world. I don't know s**t about comics or anime or whatever." But Cid was nice, if not eccentric.

He shrugged. "Is what it is. My hands'll be fine." He balled them into fists because they really weren't, but asking for help was difficult when you felt the need to do everything on your own.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"I think you mean I'm amazing. It's okay to admit it." He grinned, pleased by Oliver's cackle. "The 4th Wall? I think I've been there a couple times. You mean when the alternate you flipped over, even your job changed? ...that blows." Horace couldn't imagine the kind of flipped, upside down turn Oliver's life had taken. And now the theme song for the Fresh Prince was playing in his head.

He squinted. "I think there's something down at the intersection. Maybe..." It was kind of hard to imagine Oliver as a full-blown raccoon, but he had to say that the tail helped. "I don't remember you having a tail before."

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"I didn't." He said simply, tail getting real poofy. "I didn't have claws either. Or a mask." It was rather inconvenient really. A curse. "But yeah, it does blow a lot. I was just a full time student before. I guess having a paycheck isn't bad, though."

"I'll admit you're amazing when you get us out of here." He started to busy himself with hiding the animal features, god forbid they appear somewhere on the other side that was bustling with people.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"Mhmm," he said, biting his tongue. The way the tail got poof said that Oliver was self-conscious about it. "Can you feel it if someone touches your tail?" He needed to know for reasons.

"And look, there - you see the door to the corner store?" He squinted. "I think that should work."

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"I mean, I can feel it when I touch it, yeah." He pursed his lips, "It's kind of weird, because like... there never used to be nerves there before? I'm not sure how to describe it."

He started towards the corner store, "Why, do you wanna touch it for some reason? 'Cause that one's off limits." The tail wiggled. "Ears are one thing. a** is private property.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"Oh my goddddd," he groaned. "I didn't ask to touch your a**. Tail is different!" Horace hung his head. It looked like he wasn't getting any tail anytime soon. It was a sad day. "Don't make it weird."

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"It's like, the same region!" He wiggled his fingers at him, "You totally wanted to touch it! I'm not the one making it weird." He was teasing, but maybe also panicking slightly, but mostly teasing. He wasn't exactly used to this kind of banter.

Instead he got to the corner store, his hand reaching out and slamming onto the handle. The expression that overtook his face was indescribable, but it was an even mix of nausea and regret as he stiffly took his hand back off of the handle. Don't gag Beaumont, holy ******** hated being able to feel everything.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

He flushed heavily. "Once again, I didn't ask to, like, toss your salad. I just-" Oliver's hand touched the door and the expression on his face could be summed up in one word: bad.

"Holy ******** you alright?" Instinctively, his hands went up to steady Oliver, but instead of touching they just kind of hovered awkwardly.

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"Fine." He grimaced, "Fine." His hand was still locked up, but he finally forced his fingers apart. Everything tasted metallic on his tongue even though it had no right to—and it didn't actually, it was all psychological, but ******** sucked in a deep breath.

"Fine." He said for a third time. "That handle is disgusting." He glared at the handle like it had burned him. Grunting, he reached up to try and swipe the handle open with his foot. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"Dude, shove over. I've got hands too, you know." Horace came up behind Oliver and tried to move past him. He didn't want to suddenly touch Oliver, but he kind of had to hip-check the other man in order to get him to move.

He reached for the handle, twisted it, and jiggled it again. It was locked. "s**t." Normally, Horace would just wander around for a new point of departure, but he thought Oliver might appreciate going home faster. Out of one of the side pockets of his bag, he pulled a mini tonfa. In one swift movement, he punched it through the glass above the lock. Miraculously, Horace only managed to slice his hand open once while trying to flip the lock.

The door swung open. "Ta-daa," he said, trying to surreptitiously wrap his hand up in his scarf.

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

Oliver stumbled a little dramatically when he was nudged off to the side, hands uselessly flopped in front of him when Horace went to fumble with the door. No wonder he couldn't get it open; damn thing was locked.

"That's fine. We'll ju—" His eyes got wide when he pulled out a miniature tonfa of all things to bust the door open, words caught in his throat. A weird, strangled sound came out out mouth, shocked and astonished and anxious all at once. "Horace. What the <******** the bandages, now the ******** weapon. Was this guy afraid of getting mugged? Is that why his first reaction to Oliver's face had been such? He stood there and watched Horace open the door, his eyes glazing over his hand as he was still fixated on the broken glass and the events that just unfolded in front of his eyes. "What the <********>." His hands flailed pathetically.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"Got it open for you," he said nonchalantly, as though his hand didn't hurt like a ********. A bead of blood trickled down his index finger. Horace grimaced and swiped at it with one end of his scarf.

"Pretty neat, huh?"

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"But—" His eyes looked like they were trembling in his sockets, unfocused, not sure where exactly to look. "But—"

His gaze shifted from the broken glass to the hand, conveniently wrapped up in Horace's god-awful scarf. He swallowed, "Are you—?" And then he blinked a few times as he caught the sight of him swiping something away. He looked like he wanted to gag again—pale—but held it back, kept it together. "Oh my god are you hurt." He was moving towards him, but then he backed off, but then he crept closer again... and backed off, like he couldn't quite make up his mind. He wasn't sure how to pry, but he wasn't sure how to drop it either.

The Semblance of Unity