(no subject)

[ruckusruckus]

(12:05:18 AM) sophisticated.bix: Whoever had the brilliant notion to close an arcade just because of a silly 'electrical fire' was going to get an earful once identified. Seeing as the only alternative is shuffling around the plaid upholstered townhouse of her uncle, the after school activities are nice enough to sit through this afternoon. Even bundled in a too-long scarf and hunched over a laptop in the corner of the bleachers, a girl is noticable among the decidedly male company, though none are brave enough to do much more that sit a row or two away and keep glancing shiftily in her direction. Maybe a hat next time to hide the flaming beacon of hair on her head.
(12:10:15 AM) leechling: Scrap typically doesn't hang out and watch the baseball practice Gabe runs; he may not be the most social creature, but he can find better things to do than that. Only this time the better things amounted to a fight he didn't at all intend to get into, and still ill, he doesn't feel up to looking for anything better. So he retreats to the field that suffices for all sports at this joke of a school, hardly even noticing the company on the bleachers (except to give a particular student a blank, threatening look) as he retreats to the uppermost tier, occasionally dabbing blood from his lip with the sleeve of his hoodie.
(12:21:53 AM) sophisticated.bix: Aparently the wifi doesn't extend this far out on the grounds, so her casual Runescape game will have to wait, instead clicking away at codes and glancing up at the field when there are any noises that seem like they'll maybe lead to injury or fights. Instead, a superbly disinterested already-in-progress injury plops down within shouting distance of her. Noticing the dabbing, she gives it a few minutes of him paying her no attention, which can't be said for the rest of the group, and passively offers an actual cotton handkerchief, probably with a monogram and probably not her's, "Would it be better if I saw the other bloke?"
(12:25:09 AM) leechling: Scrap doesn't quite flinch at the sudden movement nearby, but he does glance quickly at the handkerchief, then eyes it and the girl offering it for a moment before taking it with a short nod to show his appreciation. He does wonder, of course, what the hell she's doing here, but without being able to ask he just assumes maybe she's dating one of the day students on the team. The question gets a faint shrug, and Scrap lifts a hand, tipping it from side to side to show that things turned out fairly equal.
(12:33:57 AM) sophisticated.bix: The patterns at least hide bloodstains, or whatever else it's been used for, but she doesn't seem especially keen on it's return, closing the laptop but still looking without much interest at the field. "Ya don' seem the dafty sort to watch this sorta horse hockey." She nods to the game in progress, the term at the end sounding like a term she's trying out but not used to saying, the accent not forming right around the words, "Ya got a laddie out there?"
(12:37:55 AM) leechling: Scrap gives another shrug, indeed not looking very enthused about the practice going on, but the latter question earns a loud snort. At least he can still do that. He tilts his head to the side and squints, looking sort of dubious, then does the same 'kinda' hand motion again. Communicating in signs and facial expressions is more difficult than he thought it'd be, so rather than trying to explain farther, he just gives a frustrated sigh and leans back on his elbows, absently dabbing at his lip again.
(12:43:40 AM) sophisticated.bix: She smiles knowingly for the snort at her question, "Sometimes I jus' forget yer all not poofs here. Might make things easier." Just as she is suspecting he perhaps wants to be left alone, he gets the frustrated look and she squints back at him, "'s it a ninja ya been scrappin'? Karated ya in the throat?" He hasn't said a word this whole time, though whether because he chooses not to or otherwise is unclear. He has the 'silent type' written all over his busted face.
(12:48:02 AM) leechling: There's a noncommittal face - like every other face, really - for the mention of poofs, though her mentioning it does make him rethink the previous assumption about her dating one of the players. But the following query causes Scrap to actually look at this girl, almost in something like surprise. It would make sense that only someone who doesn't know him might find this lack of vocalization questionable. He shakes his head, but puts a fist to his mouth to mime coughing - without actually coughing, because that hurts - then puts a hand to his throat to indicate its soreness, then replaces the back of his hand against his forehead to indicate a fever which, luckily, has passed.
(12:58:30 AM) sophisticated.bix: He does look surprised at the question, like he's about to somehow give a puppet show about how there was a witch and now only a pretty girl kiss can break the spell, but she suspects he tastes like copper right now. Catching his meaning and trying to to laugh at how terrible he probably feels, she throws up a hand like she's won charades, "OH! Well what the hell you doin here, lurkin an gettin' in fights? Perhaps ya are dafty." Taking pity on the guy, who does look like he'd rather be anywhere else, she flips the screen back up, blessedly passing it over with a blank word document up, "Here. Jus' don' exit my game er I'll have yer arse."
(1:03:33 AM) leechling: Scrap gives something between a shrug and a nod, conceding that yes, he probably is dafty. But he brightens somewhat (as much as a Scrap can) when she hands the laptop over, sitting up to take the item into his position. There's a serious nod for the instructions about the game, and he instead opens the notepad application to type into, typing surprisingly rapidly, since his bruised knuckles argue that he doesn't spend much time doing so
- [Thanks. You're the first person who figured it out. The guy I fought thought I wasn't answering him just to be a dick.]
(1:10:02 AM) sophisticated.bix: There is air hissed through teeth at the sight of his hands, freckled cheeks scrunching at the overall mess of him, "Yer busted like a bloody window in a riot." She mutters, watching still deft fingers type out words, thankful he isn't one of those to pecks at each letter with a single digit like a finch, "First am I? Arrite, so everyone else is dafty then, yer alright." Glancing over at the field again, it's just as much dirt with boys running around in it as before and she frowns a bit for it, turning back to the mute, "Stuck here feelin like shite? You want a ride someplace? I won' up and murder you, even if ya can't scream fer help."
(1:18:06 AM) leechling: Catching that first mutter, Scrap waves a hand dismissively, because he really isn't too bad off, all things considered. There's a nod of agreement for her statement about everyone else being 'dafty', and he goes on to explain:
[I think my brother might have caught on but he's glad I can't argue with him. He's the coach.] Scrap pauses his typing momentarily to point out said brother, currently exhorting his baseball-pantsed minions to run faster. [I thank you for the offer but if I start taking rides from unknown women he might lose all faith in me.]

(1:32:54 AM) sophisticated.bix: She takes on his abandoned leaning posture while he types, wondering why all the times she actually lingers around this school she only happens to find one worth a bit of time and entirely unable of a conversation, if not for the technological aid. Glancing at his response, she squints down at the field where he motions, eyebrows going halfway up her forehead, a quiet whistle in appraisel for his somewhat stiff stance, "The cheekbones in the hat? Are ya sure?" They might look more alike up close, but this far is anyone's guess with how tan the guy is. As for being an unknown woman, she waves the end of her scarf at him, "'m not so unknown, uncle teaches science here, complain to him if ya get murdered. Come on, yer stuck sick an trompsed in a field an he ain' even noticed yer mute, deserve someone bein' nice to ya today."
(1:37:59 AM) leechling: Looking vaguely amused at that question, Scrap nods, because yes, he's sure. As sure as anyone can be without a DNA test, anyway. The revelation that she's related to Dr. Harper - he doesn't have to think far to guess which science teacher she means - is somewhat reassuring, and after a moment longer of thought and a considering glance at the cheekbones in the hat, he nods again, carefully closing the laptop to pass back to her and sitting up, collecting his backpack. Gabe will figure things out eventually, he's sure, or at least call the apartment to frantically ask Bix questons.
(1:47:23 AM) sophisticated.bix: Smiling with big picket teeth for the obvious surrender to kindness as he gets up, she packs her bag back up afer fishing the keys out of the bottom. "Guess ya know the gent." Stepping carefully down the bleachers in her Roo shoes, she gives a glance to cheekbones again at a slightly closer perspective, seeing the resemblence a bit better for it. "Come on, 's the skuddy one across the way." There isn't a need to point at the primer grey Torino sore-thumbing in the lot nearly on it's own.
(1:51:52 AM) leechling: Again, Scrap nods acknowledgement, because the said uncle is hard to miss. As they reach the car, Scrap gives it a slightly untrustworthy glance, but he's not going to look a gift horse under the hood and just lets himself into the car, wordlessly, as he has no choice. In other circumstances he might ask questions about the vehicle, since it's one area he has some conversable knowledge in, but he waits for the unknown Scotswoman to get in and start the car before realizing she has no idea where to go. He points towards the city, supposing he'll have to rely on hand signals for this, as well.
(1:59:02 AM) sophisticated.bix: The untrustworthy gaze is noted, but she points accusingly as she drops her bag in the tiny backseat, "Lad without a car doesn' get to judge Percival. Even if he does need a wee bit o... arrite judge him. He deserves it." She gives up, shrugging her coat off once inside and starting it up, making sure to pay attention to Scraps improvised instructions while still minding the road and insisting at a convenience store stop on the way. "Ya live with him then? Yer brother? Folks not mindin you?" She doesn't expect a response beyond head shakes, and attempting sign language would present the language barrier problem all over again.
(2:03:45 AM) leechling: Scrap does something almost like smiling, wishing he were capable of offering his services to 'Percival' in exchange for the ride, but that will have to come later. There's yet another nod at the further question, although the situation is a bit more complicated than that suggests. The direction giving is at times frustrating, but he manages to persevere, and after that convenience store stop they arrive mostly safely at the apartment buildings. Remembering his manners, he raises his eyebrows questioningly at the girl and motions towards the building - thanks to the cold weather, there are only a very few cholos hanging on the stoop - as an offer for her to come in for a bit.
(2:15:22 AM) sophisticated.bix: When is it ever less complicated than it seems around here? She thinks now if any of her uncle's bemoaned stories of students and their shennanigans ever included anyone of this kid's description, she'll have to inquire later. She wasn't going to wait for an invitation to come up but one being offered is nice. She gathers the laptop sachel and gas station bags before following, crossing the gauntlet of latinos easily enough, and even though they make a few catcalls, they seem very eyebally in a way that suggests they don't like her tagging along with this kid for some reason. "Ah sod off ya toaty scunners!"
(2:20:02 AM) leechling: Making note of the disapproving looks he's getting, Scrap can't help being slightly amused. Bix has suborned the whole damn gang, apparently. The very unique repartee from his companion is amusing too, and he can hear the hissing conversation start up again as soon as he opens the building door for her. Leading the way up to the apartment, he finds it unlocked as ever, and waves her through in his gentlemanly fashion, actually very relieved to be at home now that he's here, and hoping there's some of the arsenal of cold medicine left somewhere.
(2:32:53 AM) sophisticated.bix: She wouldn't normally be so crass to strangers, no need, but she figures as long as they're going to make taunts in a language she doesn't understand, she might as well retort in kind. The door being unlocked doesn't seem to worry him, so perhaps there is indeed another roommate still at home, though upon entering nothing is obvious aside from the fat little dog running excitedly like a balloon animal. Once her baggage is set down, she hangs her coat over the couch and pulls the holey sweater over her head, left in a snug white undershirt, freckles running as strongly down her arms as her face. "'s Nyquil an Dayquil in there," She nods to the bag, starting to go through the cabinets like she's got any business doing so, "Makin some tea, cannae say I murdered ya through neglect."
(2:36:08 AM) leechling: Scrap stoops to pick up Nuggs before the little bastard decamps and tries to reunite with his people, then looks around the apartment suspiciously. It's usually not a good sign when you can't find the Bix where you left her. He hears and somewhat registers her words, at least, he nods distantly, although he's not entirely sure they have tea in the place at all. Pacing down the short hallway, he checks the bathroom first, and upon finding that empty, he checks the bedroom that he's appropriated.
(2:46:08 AM) sophisticated.bix: She's Scottish, she can just magic tea in existance probably, it's a European superpower. Meanwhile, in less classy town, Bix is just stirring from Nugget having vacated the bed where she's completely tangled in the sheets, but at least wearing panties with her shirt - which does seem to be her's for once. Blinking at Scrap once visible, she reaches arms out, not quite making grabby hands, "Hey sugar, home early?" She has no concept of time, but it does seem wrong for him to be back already, but the sounds from the kitchen indicate Gabe must be around as well, so maybe the game was called.
(2:49:40 AM) leechling: Doing that almost-smile thing again on finding Bixby at home and not in some trouble, Scrap gladly decants the dog back onto the bed in favor of those reaching arms, wrapping his own around the scrawny girl and drawing her into a somewhat-standing position on the bed. He nods at the question, then motions with his head towards the sounds in the kitchen, indicating the company, and tosses a pair of pants - not hers - in her direction. Probably best if she's something like fully dressed, at least, the first time meeting a new person. Planting a smacking kiss on her cheek, he heads back into the main room in search of cold medicine without explanation, of course, now that he's convinced all is well.
(3:02:22 AM) sophisticated.bix: She's pulled upright and all too soon let go of, a bit confused by the not-a-suggestion offer of pants but not at all by the silence, as it's far more normal for him to to quiet than to suggest she put on clothes. She does put them on, held up with a belt that weighs more than she does probably, smiling giddily for the kiss and trailing after him before stopping just short of the couch. "Theres a ginger in the kitchen." She says with only a bit of confustion, a frown that isn't quite disapproving as she hunts down a cigarette. Said ginger is sliding a steaming mug of honeyed lemon tea onto the counter and tying her unruly hair into a ponytail, looking intent on some sort of task. "Aye, ya do. Can I make a sandwich er somethin?" Looking over the slight form in front of her shamelessly, "...please?"
(3:05:54 AM) leechling: Scrap gives the slow sort of nod that's meant to mean more than what's obvious, in this case probably, 'and this is why you had to put on pants.' He goes over to rifle the medicine cabinet (which really just contains a lot of Gabe's nutritional craze shit) and finds some alka-seltzer pills. Since the tea looks too warm to use to down them just yet, he utilizes the wait by taking the magnetic white board off the fridge and scrawling on it, explanatorily: 'This is Bixby.' Unable to continue the introduction, since he doesn't yet know the ginger's name, he lets that stand for the time being.
(3:16:13 AM) sophisticated.bix: Nudging the bag towards Scrap silently as she reads the board, she nods toward the apparently Bixby, "Mack. Lovely to make yer aquaintances." She looks back to the vision of zen, "Whats he then? Couldn' tell me." Bixby exhales smoke and sniffs at the tea suspiciously, "Scrap. Theres another one here... somewhere." She looks more suspicious, noticing Gabe isn't around. "Left cheekbones at school. This one needed lookin after." Surely he doesn't, but the way the Bix girl appears, she might not be the one to be much help. "Couldn't tell ya?" Bix asks in an attempt at Mack's heavy accent, more experimental than mocking.
(3:22:03 AM) leechling: This time, the nod is less a nod and more a foreshortened bow, now that he's actually been introduced. Taking up the tea, Scrap leans against the fridge and blows on it, waiting for it to cool. At Bixby's question, he motions towards his throat in explanation. It's less surprising that she didn't notice the lack of voice, since most of their intercourse isn't verbal, but Gabe's seeming ignorance...well, maybe it can be chalked up to Gabe moping alone, ever since he had his bed violated. He sips cautiously at the tea, finding it drinkable and somewhat soothing as well, then goes back to his whiteboard for further explanations to the guest, since Bixby has no notion of hostess behavior of course. He writes 'Make yourself at home,' with a faint smirk, because Mack definitely already has.
(3:35:43 AM) sophisticated.bix: The kitchen ginger finishes securing her mane and starts putting things away, returning the lazy bow with a smirk, "Charmed." The 'a' is too long to sound right, like her uncle's English habits have rubbed off but not perfected exactly. Back to Bix, who is suddenly looking concerned and resting her cigarette in an ashtray to get all up in Scrap's face, hands moving up as if to touch it but thinking better of it, "How do fuckers keep gettin away with this on you!?" She dabs a cautious thumb over the now dried blood on his lip, kissing at the side of it where the damage isn't so bad, pausing, and then licking a bit over the injury. Mack rolls her eyes a little as she closes a cabinet door, "Can' talk. Throat's shot ta hell, dunno how ya'll missed that'n." Bix looks confused, upset and back to confused, "Wait, what? Like, how long? No really?" Before the dry erase can be of assistance, the phone in Scrap's pocket starts to ring, Bix immediately reaching too eager hands in to retrieve it and holding it out to him, before realization hits and she bounces for a second, handing it to Mack rather than answer herself. The ginger obliges with an almost annoyed, "Aye, 's this then?"
(3:43:06 AM) leechling: Scrap looks up from his tea as Bixby closes in, eyes widening minutely, but he turns his face away when she goes for the injured lip, looking more irritated than injured. Hopefully, Bix will soon figure out that this is The Routine whenever one joins a new school - or, maybe it'll be over with and he can go back to only fighting for amusement and anti-racist protest. He sighs through his nose, vaguely exasperated, and gives Mack a grateful glance when she explains. For Bixby's questioning, he holds up three fingers, then sips at his tea some more.

Initially relieved when his phone call is answered, Gabe is entirely thrown off by the voice on the other end. "I think I have more right to that question than you do, right now. Where's my brother, and why are you answering his phone? Has he been kidnapped by the Society of the White Rose?" In spite of the demanding questions, Gabe doesn't sound fierce, just somewhat baffled and bantering. He's pretty sure that where ever Scrap is, no one's kidnapped him, and a strange girl with an accent isn't the worst of the company he's been keeping.
(4:00:28 AM) sophisticated.bix: Scrap turning away from her touch is rather distressing, and she bites her lip at the dismissal, hissing at the notion of three days and looking lost as hell, "Fuck, baby 'm sorry. Thought ya were better and the sex just wasn' so good. Shit..." Avoiding the mug with her elbows, she touches fingers softly to his neck, as if she could feel something broken in there, following his gaze to the Scot and not at all concerned about talking about their sex life in front of a stranger, "So... she's having sex with us then?" Or that. She's confused more than intrigued, as Scrap was insistant on the monogamy, but then again he brought home a pretty girl thats doing nice things for him. Thats surely something.

Mack leans against the counter, not much attention being paid to the sexytalk happening right in front of her, apparently, "Ah cheekbones!" She exclaims fondly, "I'm speakin fer him at present time, don' think anyone else here's up ta it, an his kidnappin' was a classy hurrah, cross my heart." She should say something about said brother ignoring his obvious distress and all that, but perhaps this is better, the slow game.
(4:06:19 AM) leechling: That apology - or whatever it is - actually makes Scrap laugh, though what comes out is mostly a hollow, rasping noise, and thankfully it ends quickly. He doesn't seem surprised for Bixby's assumption about the apparent three-way, because that's just the way she thinks, and shakes his head, maybe sideglancing at Mack as if considering it. But it would be better to wait until he's at full steam again before even considering that, so he shakes his head more seriously, then slides away towards the couch, ready to be off his feet.

Gabe is somewhat baffled by the response, wondering why his brother seems to always pick up women that he can't understand, but it's not worth pursuing the question right now. "That's...good. Where exactly did you take him? And should I have a ransom ready?" Appeased, somewhat, he's walking towards his car as he talks.
(4:16:31 AM) sophisticated.bix: She's relieved at the raspy laugh, though it's also troubling, painful as it seems. She looks Mack up and down as well, now able to see her from the waist down and shrugs appraisingly with a lip protruding a bit, "Could do damn worse, thats for sure. How far ya think the spots go?" Being tan, freckles are surely a new and interresting thing to explore, but maybe another time. Instead, she follows him to the couch to lay out, encouraging TV and rest as best she can and taking the tea from him to set on the coffee table.

"Well," She gets a devious tone to her voice, wandering toward the back of the apartment, looking around the hall and recalling which room Bixby had been inhabiting and going for the other, "not rightly sure. But theres a Rex Sox jersey on the chair, an... Someone fancies camouflage, don' they... 's that an Xbox?" Now that he's hopefully worried enough, she hangs up, tossing the phone on the bed since it's not much use to Scrap and taking it upon herself to select a shirt from the closet, seeing as her's is damp from doing the dishes.
(4:22:15 AM) leechling: Scrap stretches out in relief and gladly accepts the Bix that follows, slinging an arm around her. Possibly he should be doing something-or-other to make Mack more comfortable, and maybe if he felt better, he would; while most of the symptoms of his cold are gone, aside from the lack of voice and sore throat, he still gets tired much too easily. So he just tucks her head under his chin and lets his eyes drop closed, maybe sighing a little.

The answers tell him well enough where they are, though the fact that this unknown person is apparently in his bedroom makes him a little suspicious. Hopefully Scrap and Bixby didn't find someone new to debauch his bed with? "Are you-- " He realizes, even before he finishes the question, that the call is terminated, and rolls his eyes to himself, starting the car to head home, though he does consider for a moment going somewhere else entirely, to avoid...whatever the hell is happening there.
(4:29:03 AM) sophisticated.bix: By the time Gabe actually makes it back to the apartment, the degenerates are asleep like puppies on the couch and Mack is halfway through her second round of Forza Motorsports 4, having made her own cup of tea, sipping it it thoughtfully when the front door opens. The little dog can be heard clicking across the hard wood but she stays put on the floor, leaning back against the bed with the controller balanced on her knee, concentrating on the screen.
(4:35:06 AM) leechling: The fact that Bixby and Scrap are asleep on the couch allays some of Gabe's fears, though he looks at them suspiciously as he passes, noting the new injury to his brother's face. He's pretty sure it wasn't the unknown phone-answerer that put it there, knowing Scrap's behavior too well. Tossing his jacket onto the back of the couch, he notes Nuggs trotting out of the hallway and figures the intruder is in that direction, if in fact she hasn't left. So he heads to his own room, finding the door open and the unknown redhead on his floor, causing a lift of an expressive eyebrow. "Miss Stuart, I presume?"
(4:44:27 AM) sophisticated.bix: She doesn't immediately look up at him as he enters, too busy trying to drink tea and steer at the same time, but once the finish line is crossed she can afford some attention being diverted, especially for those eyebrows, "Dr. Livingston?" She looks him up and down, approving once again at a closer vantage point. She looks past him out the door, having been listening for any sign of trouble but you never know, "How's yer wee canty brother out there? Right out he went, didn' have ta mickey his tea none."
(4:48:24 AM) leechling: Gabe smiles faintly for the retort, nodding in greeting, not unlike the way Scrap didn't-bow before. "Gabe Westin, actually." Still a little wrong-footed at finding a stranger in his space, he manages not to look too twitchy, moving to sit in the computer chair (Nuggs following to immediately occupy his lap). "He's asleep, yeah. Been sick for a while. How did you come across him?" It seems rather unlikely that Scrap would've found this girl at the school, after all, but Gabe's not sure how he got anywhere else.
(4:56:33 AM) sophisticated.bix: The amused little smile comes back for all the politeness going on in this house, standing to extend a hand for shaking, "Mack Harper." He seems a little shifty for the intrusion, but not off-put enough to ask her to leave, so once greetings are complete she invites herself to sit on the bed, the too big shirt pooling a bit at her waist, "Found 'im lookin right sorry at yer game. Worked out he couldn' talk, so I thought I'd give a leg up." She leans in to pet over Nugg's head, "'e said no one noticed he gone quiet. Well, didn' so much say it, but I worked it out."
(5:01:00 AM) leechling: Belatedly, Gabe notices the shirt she's wearing, and his eyebrows tug in briefly, not quite a scowl, but...disconcerted-looking. The name is noted, maybe a little distantly, because he doesn't recognize the last name and is still wondering what she was doing at the school, but the rest takes precedence. "Couldn't talk?" After a second, the eyebrows unknit. "You mean he lost his voice? Jesus..." He only considers that for a moment before he has to laugh, probably laughing more than he might otherwise given the awkward situation. Nuggs is excited by the humor and yips, trying to lick Gabe's chin. After subduing the dog, Gabe straightens up, shaking his head and still grinning some.
(5:09:45 AM) sophisticated.bix: She doesn't feel the need to express her connection to the science professor in question, even if Gabe does loosely work with him, in a fashion. Most people figured it out anyway, as there weren't alot of Scots hanging around the area. She tilts her head down to give him a pointed look as he understands Scrap's situation, "Aye, three days. Posh lass out there," She jerks her head toward the main room, "didn' seem ta notice neither. Fucks that? 's there no difference normally?" His laugh seems well needed, like he might be an exhasperated fellow most of the time, and though Scrap seems lovely, he is still a little brother.
(5:14:06 AM) leechling: Gabe shakes his head again, this time in answer. "Not a lot, no. He's always been real quiet and serious, even when he was a kid. And he and Bixby...don't talk much." That stifles his humor a little, if not completely. "So you gave him a ride home? I appreciate it. I told him to stay inside 'til I was done, doesn't need to be out in the cold when he's sick, but plainly he didn't listen. You happen to know who messed up his face this time?"
(5:24:19 AM) sophisticated.bix: The somewhat darkened expression at the mention of Bix is noted, "Don' fancy the girl, then?" They don't seem compatable, then again, Scrap liked her, and they seem to be similarly mannered. She nods for the question, picking her tea back off the floor, "Yer stock ta Olympus with cold meds an paper towels now." She shrugs for the last part muttering, "Boys, they never have paper towels..." As for the second question, she shrugs, sipping, "Nah, jus' that he didn' loose so bad as he looked. Happens alot?" She looks genuinely interested, whether for Scrap's well being or Gabe's peace of mind though is unclear.
(5:31:31 AM) leechling: Gabe shrugs for that question, because whether he likes Bixby or not really isn't pertinent to his life. "She's Bixby. She's two years older than I am and she's fucking my little brother." Enough to say that he has reason to be prejudiced against her, but he doesn't make it sound too harsh. Somewhat amused with her domestic abilities, he nods in thanks. "Pretty often, I guess. There's a reason we call him Scrap. But right now...well, we've only been here a month or so, and this new school is full of guys trying to prove they're the toughest of the bunch. Scrap isn't the type to fight for that reason, but given the way he looks, they'll test him regardless. How did you end up there? Not a place for a lady on her own."
(5:37:31 AM) sophisticated.bix: If there is any eyebrow raise for the age difference, it's kept internal, figuring the protective older brother streak kicks in there and she so far hasn't been given reason not to like the ho on the couch, aside from neglegance to a needy boyfriend. "Lads like ta do that. Seems he's winnin' arrite, least fer now." Tea depleted, she sets it down and reclines back on the neat bedspread, not entirely suggestive but not uninvited either, "Ya know a Cormack? Big sassy bloke, valiant knight of science? 's a relative, stayin with him fer the time bein."
(5:43:52 AM) leechling: There's maybe a bit of pride in Gabe's nod, but it isn't too glaring. "He usually does." Maybe the girl sprawling on his bed makes him particularly uncomfortable, because he is suddenly on his feet, nodding to the empty mug of tea. "You want a refill? I need something to drink, too." Abandoned, Nuggs hops on the bed, while the eyebrows contract in consideration. "Cormack? I don't think so. Does he work at the school?"
(5:49:06 AM) sophisticated.bix: Gabe's comfortable conversational mode seems to dwindle as she gets more comfortable, which is a shame, because no one else in the house was especially talkative, "Nah, s'arrite. He does. Big Scottish fellow, can' miss him. Am I makin ya jumpy?" She asks, casual as can be and showing no signs of moving either way, implying the space she's occupying and petting over Nuggs tiny head. Maybe Gabe is a big more uptight than she thought.
(5:53:30 AM) leechling: Despite that description, Gabe shakes his head again. "I've missed him, I guess. But like I said, we've only been here a little while, and I don't have a lot of interaction with the other staff." The query puts him on the spot some, but he doesn't descend entirely into awkwardness, giving a shifty sort of grin. "Only a little. No offense, but I don't usually come home to find unknown women in my room. But I really do need a drink, it isn't just an excuse. Actually...we have some leftover fajitas from the neighbors, with some killer guacamole. Would you like a bite?"
(1:15:29 AM) sophisticated.bix: Gabe in fact does not completely lock up for her mild passes, which is a good sign, but it's obvious he's still a tough nut to crack, composure crafted to the highest degree. She frowns a little with the unfamiliar word, sitting up and retrieving her mug for a refill of convenience, "Fa-hee-tah? Whussat?" Intrigued, she follows, snorting a little at all the odd terms being thrown out, "Wok-eh-moooo-leh..." She sounds out experimentally, all the vowels coming out completely wrong with her accent, but then again the two were never meant to go together.
(1:19:51 AM) leechling: Composure isn't something Gabe is frequently accused of, but he isn't doing too badly today. "It's, like...like stir fry, sort of. Meat and onions and peppers all cooked together." He manages not to laugh at her odd pronunciation. Given the uncertainty on display, he feels justified in asking: "Have you not lived in the States long?" Surely even a very secluded Scot in America would have heard of fajitas by her age. Leading the way back to the kitchen, Gabe pauses to feed the dog, just to keep it from being under foot, before unearthing the containers of food from the fridge.
(1:29:42 AM) sophisticated.bix: She hums at that description, thinking it sounds agreeable enough and goes about procuring tea while leaving the food responsibilities to the more experienced one. The question earns a shrug while she fills the teapot, surely left there by previous tenants, "Couple'a months. Don' mix much, American boys're so..." She pauses to think of the right word, turning on the stove burner, "serious." Theres a face made for that, corners of her mouth turning down in an exaggerated fashion. "But ye aren' all as fat an rude as we been led ta think."
(1:34:51 AM) leechling: Gabe quirks an eyebrow, glancing sideways at her while he works on separating what needs to be reheated and what doesn't. "Serious? Well, you did end up with Scrap somehow...but I think of all the boys I coach and know at the school, he's one of the very, very few that fit that description." He does smirk slightly for the follow-up, apparently regaining his ease now that there isn't a bed in the vicinity. Even though she's still wearing his shirt. "Here, try this while the rest heats. It's guacamole. Just a mix of avocados, tomatos, onion...I think they might put garlic in theirs too. It's good." He passes over the bowl of guacamole and adds a bag of chips, then paces over to preheat the oven. Because you can't microwave food this good.
(1:52:03 AM) sophisticated.bix: "Maybe it's not the word. Internal, yer all a bit wrapped up in it, winds ya all tight. Er daft, sometimes." She nudges him with her hip to make a playful point before resting back against the counter again, eyeing the offered wok-a-mo-leh with a bit of distrust, giving it a cautious sniff and a face, "Looks like snot, dunnit?" Assuming the chips are meant to go with it, she take a bite, careful not to crunch chip crumbs all over the place and trying to ignore the snot-ish texture before smacking the back of her hand against Gabe's arm, "Fuck! Tha's right braw, eh!?" Giving herself a change to swallow and holding up a hand to his likely confused face, "'s good, brilliant. I like."
(1:57:27 AM) leechling: That description gets a snort of amusement, coupled with a little smile. "Snot? Only if you're really, really sick. But most of the mexican food I've tried tastes a lot better than it looks, I admit." He watches for the reaction, grinning more broadly when he's smacked - even if the words don't initially make sense, the tone and response are expressive enough. "It is. Bixby's made friends with the neighbors so they're always bringing over excellent food, trying to feed her up. Saves me having to go to the store, anyway." Checking the oven, he finds it to be warm enough and pops the plates into it to warm up. "So your relative...does he live at the school?"
(2:09:16 AM) sophisticated.bix: "Wok-eh-mooo-lehh..." She tries again quietly, still no closer but at least she can ask for it in the future by a good enough effort. Continuing to dig into the delightful snot bowl, she gives a humorless little pull of lips over teeth, "Ya might not tell 'em I'm here, might'a been a bit cheeky with em on the way in." Not that they likely understood the insults, but they started it. Ignoring that the efforts are obviously doing little good for Bixby's figure, she abandons the chips in favor of the whistling tea kettle, "Nah, close by in a tartan stronghold. Don' think he could stomach bein' any closer. But that ain' so interestin, what about you? Shacked up here with yer wee brother an his lass? Lets here that then."
(2:16:58 AM) leechling: Gabe still manages not to show any amusement for her atrocious attempt at pronunciation, because languages are just difficult; on the other hand, he doesn't refrain from laughing slightly at the idea of her being 'cheeky' with the stoop-dwellers. "No worries, I'm pretty sure most of them like that in a woman." He nods for the knowledge about her relative, not surprised - the fact that anyone can live there is confusing enough, and probably explains the less stable mental states of some of his coworkers. "Ah...well, Scrap has been here, in Boston, for a while. About a year, maybe. He was living with our mother, step-father, and half-sister. I was going to school in Detroit, where our father lives. But I lost my scholarship, and I came out here for a visit about the time he got kicked out of his last school, and just sort of ended up staying. He decided he'd rather live with me than at home, and he...brought Bixby along. I'm not sure where she was staying before."
(2:30:33 AM) sophisticated.bix: She licks some guacamole off her lip as he explains the stoopdwellers, maintaining eye contact but keeping it just below the line of what she thinks might make his eyebrows tense too much and strain something. There is obviously more to this story than the short version gives, but when isn't there in families dividing themselves up? The awkardness of referring to Bixby is palpable, but whether it's general resentment or stemming from specific incidents is unclear. She rests her hands on the counter edge behind her, voice evening in tone and volume, a bit of devious sweet, "Do ya have a boyfriend?"
(2:34:46 AM) leechling: As far as Bixby's concerned, it's probably a little of both. Gabe steps away from the counter and leans down to peer in the oven, caught in this somewhat undignified position by that question. He pauses, but doesn't betray any particular discomfort, only looks back at Mack and arches an eyebrow blandly. "No. Is that assumption based on my place of work, or something else?" Because really, everyone seems to be making it lately.
(2:43:11 AM) sophisticated.bix: Tea cool enough now to hold, she shrugs, wrapping both hands around it while blowing gently over it's surface, "Not really. Not that it ain' the 'house that hoofters built' anyway..." Seriously, the faculty she's met is enough to solidify a strange hiring process, and that includes her uncle. "But ya don' look at me, er her," she nods to the couch, "same way everyone else does, an not jus' cause they're interested in a snog. 's arrite if ya aren' though, had a fifty fifty chance'a guessin wrong, don' I?" But she doesn't think she is, not fully at least, but Gabe doesn't seem like he wants to give a solid answer either way.
(2:49:53 AM) leechling: What he can translate of that answer doesn't seem too condemnatory, which is a relief, but no, he's not big on giving solid answers. Instead, he addresses one part of her words that he was able to understand, straightening up again and speaking in an oddly cautious way. "My father has plenty of faults, but...he did teach his boys the right way to treat a lady. I doubt Scrap spent much of his time gawping at you, either, and he obviously...appreciates the female virtues." Glancing towards the couch as he says this, looking sort of doubtful about Bixby possessing any sort of virtue, and obviously leaving out the bits where his father didn't treat his mother very gallantly.

"But dating, or whatever euphemism you want to use, hasn't ever interested me a whole lot either way." That's really not answering the essential question either, but he ignores that, reaching to turn the oven off and take the improvised oven mitts (really, just old towels) to get the fajitas and sides out of the oven.
(2:59:44 AM) sophisticated.bix: There is a genuine smile over the rim of the mug for the, indeed, very gallant response, and while it's not the first time she's been in gentlemanly company, it's one of the few times she hasn't been sure of what was happening later. "So... ya don' want to snog then?" Before he can try to explain how totally straight he is without actually saying it, she scoots out of the way of hot oven things, chuckling quietly, "'m jus' yankin yer chain, Gab-ree-ehl." She hadn't said his full name until now, but she's just sure she's saying it right, rolling the strange syllables over her tongue pleasantly lazy.
(3:05:03 AM) leechling: Gabe's eyes might widen slightly for that blunt question, but thankfully it's followed quickly with her sort-of explanation and he manages a quiet laugh, cautiously placing the hot dishes on the stove. Lucky he didn't drop them, really. "Well, I can see why you think we're all too serious here." He goes about uncovering dishes, generally busying himself to keep from thinking too much about...anything. Once everything's in order he glances back towards the main room thoughtfully. "I don't know if we should try to wake Scrap up or not. He hasn't been eating much since he got sick, he could use it." And Gabe could probably use a little back-up, as well.