milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

There's an Atton inna booth, juggling and, as he always does, failing at it. For once, he doesn't have anything else he's doing at the same time, though he is occasionally checking a datapad tutorial.

At least, he thinks it's a tutorial. He keeps seeing subliminal messages in there. It's a bit disturbing, really.

Ignore the evil icon, he's in quite a good, nice, non-psychotic mood right now. I just felt like using it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Atton snickers.
"Don't be so nervous. I think we mentioned that I'm not going to bite," Atton grins. "Do not make me take drastic and most dire measures."

"But you poke," he whines.

Whining. Always helpful in awkward and fear inspiring situations.

Especially when drastic and dire measures are mentioned.

"Yeah, I do. I also tickle," Atton says. "Like so." And then he lunges, arms going for the ribs to tickle Gavin.

Gavin ducks back as far in the booth as he can when Atton lunges, trying to escape from the tickling.

It doesn't work.

In fact, all that it does do is cause him to hit his arm hard against the table, and bang a leg against the seat as he squirms.

Atton is oblivious to Gavin banging things as he increases his area of tickling from ribs to ribs, stomach, legs and occasionally arms.

After all, it's good to vary one's tickling.

Ribs really tickle. Really, really tickle. Gavin squirms a lot, trying hard not to bang his long limbs into something else. And trying hard not to laugh.

His eyes squeeze shut at the tickling and one hand darts out to stop Atton, missing the man's shoulder and smacking his lips instead.

"Gavin," Atton lets his hands stop for a moment, but he keeps them on Gavin's ribs. "You could have just asked if you wanted me to kiss your hand."

"I...I..." He blushes. A deep dark red. "I don't want you to kiss my hand!"

Atton snickers.
"You put your hand there," He laughs for a second. "Don't worry, I know you don't. Interesting shade."

"How was I supposed to know what I was doing? You were tickling me!"

Gavin glares and takes this opportunity to rearrange himself in the seat, pushing back closer against the wall and away from Atton.

Atton looks slightly hurt.
"Pfft. Sorry. Won't tickle you again," Atton says. "Much." Cue small grin.

And Gavin grimaces at the grin. "Please? Just...no tickling at all?"

"Fine, no tickling," Atton says, raising his hands. "If it'll make you feel better."

Gavin nods, very eagerly. "Yes!"

A pause, and he lowers his voice. "Yes, it will."

"Good," Atton smiles. "Can I buy you a drink or something or other ... ?"

He nods towards his half-empty lomin ale, grinning a little. "Another one of these could be good."

Gavin has a feeling he's gonna need it.

Atton grins back, ordering a couple of lomin ales from a nearby waitrat.
"See? Smiling's good. Better than the frightened gizka impression, anyway."

Gavin finishes off the rest of the lomin ale in his mug, attempting another grin when he's done.

"Well, I don't mean it!"

"Sure, you don't." Atton replies good-naturedly, thanking the waitrat as it returns with the ales.

"I don't!"

He sighs and grabs the nearest of the lomin ales, taking another long sip.

"You scare me, 's all," Gavin mutters.

"... I'm not scary."

"Yes you are!" Gavin gives him a wide eyed look, cupping his ale cup tightly in his hands. "With your tickling and dancing and stupid comments you're scary!"

Atton blinks.
"Huh."

"...huh?"

He's not sure if he likes the sound of that.

"I don't mean to be scary."