float until I learn how to swim

[wingwalker]

Who: Xas & Wolfgang; Xas & Benji
What: Friends! Tentacles!
Where: Various.
When: The first week of Shadri.
Notes: Not an open post solely because I am too lazy for a summary thing. But if you, too, would like your character to be touched harassed by an angel, drop me a line and we will make it happen.
Warnings: Pending.

Comments

[cestrumnocturnum]

"The rules should be adjusted. Eleven thousandth."

The offer of books has its appeal. Wolfgang, anyway, is nerdier than her; they could have a library! But-- "I couldn't take your books! You should keep them. Or sell them, I suppose. But if you need a permanent address," because the assumption that Xas might not have one is easy for her to make, as having one at all is a new novelty, "you could just write down mine." Either Benji really isn't good at libraries, or she trusts Xas to be.

Both, mainly.

[wingwalker]

It takes Xas a few moments of raised eyebrows to recover - not from surprise at the specific offer, because he's already learned how kind people can be, so much the reminder that this is his life now, walking alongside people and having needs they can fill. It was always the other way around, before.

"Okay. Thank you," he says once he's resettled, without pretending to have to think about it or to be to proud, then smiles. "But if you give me your address, you won't be able to stop me from leaving books at your door."

[cestrumnocturnum]

That gets a quick grin, undercut with a shyer shrug. A brief break in their walking ensues, Benji a bit awkward in navigating the pockets of her jacket and shifting aside her bag to do so to recover her CiD, before continuing. "I think that sounds like a win for me," she points out, eyes on screen as she, a little ponderously, types out the address of the Badside house before she can forget.

Ping. Or whatever sound or indication Xas's CiD makes, should he gave it on him, that a message is received.

[wingwalker]

Xas slips his backpack strap off one shoulder so he can get to his CiD without stopping, reads the address a few times, and puts it away again. His memory isn't perfect, but it is very good - it has to be, to keep up with his thousands of years. "Thank you," he says again, and then, "Tell me about something," with an entitlement that's only half teasing. After a moment he is generous enough to add a prompt. "How's work?"