Varric Tethras | Dragon Age (taleweaver) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-03-04 13:01:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, montgomery scott, varric tethras |
“And it was very nice of you to do so, but you don't want him. He has...crabs."
Who: Varric, Scotty, a rather interesting cosplayer
What: There's driving, and getting ready for cons, and then Scotty gets distracted by the shiny in disguise
When: Immediately after drinking at the bar!
Where: Motel near a con
Rating: PG-13.
Status: Part 2 of 2 (complete!)
"We'll make it for the best part, the tentacles, don't you worry." He pulled out his keys and headed towards a vintage '66 red mustang, "We'll stop by my place to get my things. Where are you staying right now. Besides the gutter."
Oh, Scotty had noticed with a grin down at his friend, while he’d been throwing down just enough cash onto the table to pay for the sandwich as they left. Only enough for one of the sandwiches, too. Cheapskate.
He was following along to the car and waited to get in, saying mindfully, "They're gonnae show all the clips of the cat cirls, if we aren't there soon. An' ye know where I'm staying, I'd thought I'd told you? Mostly at that garage that they're gonnae take a bulldozer to, soon enough. Making good use of it while I can. I forgot tae pay for the room, so I dunnae know if the keycard will work on the door any longer."
This message is brought to you because the world needs more middle-aged otaku, who's priorities are mecha, things that go VROOM or BOOM, and scantily clad cat chicks. We say so.
Cassandra snapped up the tip and Scotty's payment, disposing of both appropriately, and sighed as she cleaned the table. Sometimes, stripping looked better and better. It was how she'd met Varric and got this job, after all.
Varric actually looked at Scotty for a moment, raising both of his eyebrows, "Are you sure you don't want me to co-sign an apartment for you? You wouldn't forget to pay rent because I'd ride your ass."
He peeled out from the curb and into traffic. As he approached a light, a gigantic first generation humvee barreled past and around the corner, nearly flattening them into paste. The blonde woman driving scarcely noticed them.
Varric honked the horn, "Son of a bitch!" By the time they got to his home, he was calmer. He ran in, grabbing his costume, Bianca, and a few other things, and rushed back to the car. Peeling back out he headed for the motel.
That comment about riding his ass about rent earned another scoffing of indignity like he could remember on his own! It was likely he'd forget to pay it anyway, even with a reminder, because he'd be falling asleep in a half finished car or boat or plane type thing due to losing track of time. A car, boat, or plane type thing which would likely explode. Nevertheless, that is exactly what happened in this case. He'd spent too much time in the garage and hadn't sold off some repaired parts off, for money on the side. So far, though, he hadn't been locked out. Yet. It was overdue and inevitable, though.
All good, since he kept most of his things in a couple of dufflebags! The tool bag was getting a bit cumbersome to lug around. Regardless, he tried to push the question off as well as the memory of a backache from lugging bags around, all while he was formulating his latest ‘How to get out of trouble and make money fast’ scheme.
He'd spent the vast majority of the ride just thinking about that, so that he only shook a fist angrily at the shitty driver and then folded both arms over his chest in a self-defensive gesture. It was like watching a turtle that was sucking itself back into it's shell to recoup, complete with semi-frowny turtle face of intense contemplation.
Well, back to trying to state obvious things to get out of thinking about other obvious things for a moment! Scotty began to point out, "Costume judging. We're gonnae miss that. I'm nae ready, either. I left me goggles behind at the motel room."
Varric carried a set of lockpicks for instances like this. If the card didn't work, he could get them in. He hoped it wouldn't be necessary. He was beginning to think his friend needed a stable place to stay. And a garage to work in.
The problem came from the fact that the man's inability to remain focused on anything but his current project meant everything else fell to the wayside - and Varric couldn't think of anything the man could do to earn enough money while still pursuing the things he loved.
Maybe if the robot thing worked out. Buzzsaw League paid well and Varric would be willing to co-sponser him. He'd see some sort of return and perhaps Scotty could work off some of that creative frenzy.
He looked at the time, "We have time. I'll change while you get your things." He was still in his suit, opened of course to display his chest hair.
Creative frenzy was a very, very good way of describing it. It also probably would've been better if Scotty did have some structure, but in the meantime, he was kind of adrift like a ship without a harbor, and - though opportunities had arisen - none of them felt or seemed like the right thing. It's not that he didn't LIKE building and creating stuff, or wasn't SMART enough, but just that something wasn't clicking. He didn't seem to fit very well, like a square peg with only round holes being left for him to fit into. He had also busted into things like rooms before, himself, so it wasn't like he was unfamiliar. If the keycard didn't work, then he had a screwdriver and some other items in his pockets he could use. It would just require a little finesse.
The blessing in all this, was that he wasn’t a bad guy to hang out with. He seemed to have a good circle of friends and enough sporadic luck to get some money with small side projects fixing things, now and again. It might also help matters if he wasn't wearing stuff that came in varying shades of Army surplus green, all of which looked like it had seen better days. It was all the things he commonly worked in, so it was meant to get messed up. And it sure did look messed up. Laundry day was coming up, fast. Otherwise, on a daily basis, he pretty much was distracted enough to look like he’d been hit by a dumptruck.
"Aye, I can change fast enough. I can also make a plane out of a paperclip and spit in a day. M'like that MacGyver lad, that swift. Really!" He might be exaggerating. Then again, he might not be. At least he cleaned up well for conventions, and that was truth! "Ahh, I think I left me watch chain there too, an' the overcoat."
Varric was mostly worried that Scotty's finesse would equate to something else entirely. Like broken locks.
The shorter man actually had a small collection of 'nice clothing' on hand for those rare times he needed to get Scotty cleaned up and presentable. It wasn't often, but it was usually for good reasons. Once was a charity event and there'd been free food. He'd even talked him into making something quick to help someone in and out of a wheelchair without added assistance.
"I almost believe it. I used to write MacGyver fanfic. Fifty bucks says you can't make a jet engine out of scrap parts. That works and won't explode."
Varric parked, and got out of the Mustang, grabbing his costume and Bianca. He kissed the rifle lovingly.
Oh, that sounded like a bet. He liked those sorts of bets. Lots! They usually resulted in explosions of some sort, which were very exciting! Scotty’s eyes shown with a inner light, like a someone dangling a drug in front of an addict.
"I'll nae only take that bet and make that engine, but I'll turn it intae a motorbike." He held out a hand to shake on it and seal the deal. "Fiver says ye bust yer arse tryin' tae ride on it!"
Varric clasped Scotty’s hand, “Deal!”
Scotty shook Varric’s hand, with a wee bit too much enthusiasm.
Grinning, Varric thought it might actually be worth losing the bet, “You know if you could actually make it work you could sell it to make other things.”
"I'll start tomorrow," Scotty was saying, though he nodded at the mention of selling it to make other things. Provided it didn't explode. It didn't sink in yet that it could be a veiled insult. Give it a few. "If it dunnae survive, then there's nothing like the thought of ye wee stubby legs kickling around while ye fly off my bike, an' it crashes intae a ball o’ fire."
This was the best part of being friends with anyone. The shit flipping. Of course, right about then was when he realized that some shit had been flipped at him, and he stopped before they reached the motel room door, looking like the most appalling thing in the known universe was proposed to him. He was now deeply affronted by the mere thought that his glorious creations were being accused of not working.
"Wait! How could ye think that it'd not WORK?! Are ye actually insulting my uni degrees? I've more than one!" Scotty had two, but not mentioning the actual number made it sound like a lot bigger number than it actually was.
"Just remember to send me that information. For the robot project." He leaned against the wall, waiting for Scotty to try the card, "I'll print out the rules for the three weight classes so you know how far you can bend them." He grinned, knowing that Scotty would break the spirit of the rules if not the letter.
He thought of the man's degrees, and the fact he isn't working for Nasa, "You mean what lines your bird cage?"
Oh those rules would be bent, broken, duct taped back together, and then have a metal casing welded over them so it appears nothing is wrong on the surface. That was a given and would be done in record time. However, that's a peripheral issue. Right now, his degrees were being insulted. It wasn't what he had done with them, it was that he HAD them at his disposal and those aren't to be made fun of!
"ITS NAE CATCHING BIRD SHITE!" he told the world, very loudly indeed, stomping up to the door. If the motel staff didn’t know he was there, before, they do now.
"Oh just open up the goddamn door already, I want to change and I don't want to miss the contest!" Despite his words, Varric was laughing, as it sounded like Scotty's voice increased in pitch with every word.
"Its not like you use them to benefit society."
Oh no, it's on. He can't open the door already, because his voice really was raising up and it was one of those times when he didn't care how big or small the oponent in a verbal sparring spree was, they were about to get a dose of a stubborn and infuriated Scotsman.
"I am! SHINY ROCKET CARS!" They looked like they belonged in a Jules Verne novel, too. And were explodery! "That's a benefit. And?" Scotty pointed a finger down at Varric's nose. "THEY FUNCTION! As well as look good, so dunnae forget that!"
"Shiny rocket cars from a Jules Verne novel." Varric retorted, "That explode. You push them too far, you KNOW they can't take much more than that!" He pulled out a cigar and lit it up, "Why don't you create something useful. Like a new kind of heart, or artificial lung or liver."
"I've got tae test the limits, or else how're we tae know if it runs at full capacity!" Eeesh, some people had no patience for test runs! If those, indeed, did involve patience at all. More like impatience and a lot of pushing things well past the limits. Whoops. "Any-hoo, I'm nae a doctor! An' I like me liver pickled just as it is! I dinnae get the degrees in those things, remember? It was physics and engineering, but flip those the other side around as I was better at engineering."
"Maybe if you test the limits on a test model, you'll know what they are for the full sized car. And just think of how much we could drink!"
Varric clapped him on the back, "I'd even trust you to make me a new liver too."
Scotty was patting himself down for the keycard. "That's true. But, I dunnae know if I'd trust meself, since I wouldn't use the thing! Would ye really trust me to make you a liver?" There was a wry expression on his face, as he patted his way over his pockets. "Where'd the fucking keycard go off tae..."
Scotty hoped he didn't flush it like he did, that one time at a theoretical physics seminar.
“Yes.”
“Oh ye can't be serious,” Scotty was saying while shaking his head. That was aimed at both the keycard and that Varric answered yes.
Varric started to play one of his favorite games with people. The Dialogue game.
“Tinker said with exasperation and disbelief!”
"Yer right I said that in disbelief. I make things go faster, not make things stay alive. I'm not a doctor, I'm an engineer. An' ye'd best not complain, either." He pointed and the keycard slipped out from his sleeve and landed, caught in the barely bent fingers he wasn't pointing with. Nevertheless, he didn't seem to notice, either due to the debate in progress or the alcohol. "It's gotten ye intae a few good races with me. Even let ye ride shotgun. Cannae complain about that, can ye? I'd think not."
He unlocked the door while eyedarting, like he knew exactly what he was doing the whole time.
"Know what else? Steampunk lassies. That's all need be said, there." He was ready to rest his case and win the debate, thank you very much.
“He continued, while struggling with the door, as though he expected the handsome and dashing Mr. Tethras to respond.”
"I'm NOT struggling! I'm using finesse," was the matter of fact answer, as he pushed against the doorfront with his face while jamming the keycard into the slot, in a less than gentle manner. "It cannae take much more, she's got tae give sometime...sometime...right about nae...."
Maybe the door likes it rough? Either way, Scotty wanted in, NOW.
"Continuing the struggle, Tinker realized that the door liked it rough. He needed more power."
"Oh, ha ha. I just need tae..." He bumped the door with his free fist next to the doorknob, and pushed against it again with his forehead, until it popped open. Scotty turned around and looked triumphant. "...show her who's boss."
That said, he promptly fell through the door backwards, landing on his butt, having thought the door was still heavy enough and not so swingy, that it wouldn't hold him up as he leaned suavely against it. Thinking that, though, was a lie. Kind of like what cake is made out of: lie.
Varric stepped over Scotty and inside, stripping his jacket and shirt off. He pulled on a frilly white shirt and a gold jacket with fancy swirling designs and real gears on it. Next came matching pants and heavy boots. Assorted doodads, gears and pockets adorned his outfit. He left the jacket open and the shirt was mostly unbuttoned, exposing a broad chest with his famous red chest hair. He swung a case onto the bed and unzipped it. Inside was the beautiful flintlock rifle.
Bianca...He kissed her reverently.
Scotty waited until Varric had walked over him, quite patiently, and then used a nearby press-board cabinet to pull himself up. The wood sounded like it was ready to give, because setting a teacup poodle on it would have probably caused a collapse.
"I'm maybe a wee bit intoxicated," he announced, via the understatement of the century. And that said, he started stripping, with the door open. He managed to get dressed in good time, wearing some very nice steampunk finery, like a Victorian gentleman. A clean white shirt, velvet overcoat, silk vest, and tophat with goggles. He attached the gold chain to his pocket watch and pulled on some untattered fingerless gloves, so that he could still make adjustments to machinery if the need arises, were the finishing touches. In fact, he looked downright presentable and very nice indeed. Though the minute he saw the flintlock in Varric's hands, he adopted one of his expressions where his eyes were rolled heavenward, and it was as though he was praying to heaven above for guidance.
"An' out she comes. Not meant in a pervy way. Perhaps. Surprised ye not still snogging it, nonstop."
“Hmm?” Varric looked up from kissing the gun.
Scotty was standing there with his mouth hanging open a little, like he couldn't fathom the whole kissing that gun thing. Yet he's the same guy who fondles headlights and things on the vehicles he works on, so he's got zero room to talk.
"Can we go tae the con, then? I still have to polish me lassie up, before tomorrow morn's showroom floor presentation." And before people challenged him to race it and it goes BOOM. I mean, what?
Slinging the gun over his shoulder, Varric gave it one last caress, "I'll have you know she's an antique, lovingly crafted and cared for."
Pause.
"I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to imply you were elderly."
"That? Is entirely what he meant," Scotty said in a most gleeful tone of voice. "She took it that way. Ye should nae talk about a lady's age like that. She's gonnae hold it against ye."
He was whistling as he turned and walked out the open door, abruptly stopping when he was nearly nose to forehead with a Latino maid lady, who had just watched him strip.
"Hola," she said, then gave him a very wide smile. Like Mexico's own version of a cheshire cat.
"Right. Ye could've shut the door, ye know. I dinnae force ye t'watch," he pointed out, leaning back, away from the crazy.
Varric unslung Bianca in one smooth motion, cocking her and firing. The gun made a loud bang as he fired a plastic pellet at his friend.
"Oh. Oh!" The maid thought they were together since the taller of the two had just grabbed his butt with both hands and yelled the mother of all curse words in a funny sounding accent at his shorter friend. Maybe they were into that sort of play. Perverts! She rushed off, pushing her toilet paper cart while staring back at them like they were loco, the squeaky wheel accentuating the haste at which she was trying to GET THE HELL AWAY!
"I had a chance with her," said Scotty, remorsefully, while discreetly trying to rub his butt to make sure that the plastic pellet hadn't snagged on the velvet trousers. "Ye chased her off. GET THAT AWAY FROM ME ARSE! Did it stick to the trousers? Did it? We’re gonnae come t'blows and have a real rammy if it did...."
Taking a glance at Scotty’s ass in an admittedly well fitting pair of pants, Varric shook his head and lied, “No, it didn’t stick.”
Scotty wasn't too keen on trying to grab at his own ass and make sure, since the maid was making an escape while looking back to make sure she wasn't being pursued. Scotty gave her a strange look and shrugged with both hands held up in the air, as though he were innocent until proven guilty and no one had any right to shoot at him. He continued to do so while saying under his breath, "It better not’ve."
Knowing the maid was looking and one for dramatic displays, Varric leaned in, making kissing faces and kissing noises.
"GET AFF!" So much for trying to maintain the ‘hands up, don't shoot’ stance. Scotty squinted and instantly thrust both hands out to push Varric away if he dared got any closer. Just to make sure that the bromance didn't go into romance, he began to scoot in a general away motion. "What're ye on about?! Bianca's gonnae get jealous!"
“You're obviously not secure in your masculinity,” He walked past Scotty, whistling an old tune.
“I'm secure. I'm very secure!”
At that, the short man gave Scotty a wink and disappeared around the corner.
The maid was scandalized! She made a D: face after muttering "Madre de Dios!" under her breath and slammed a motel room door shut. Then she leaned back against it and fanned her face with one hand, like that was kinda hot. Maybe she should peek out? NO! She must stop herself. Damn her racy pervert thoughts!
"I’ve just not met the right girl yet," protested Scotty, in as good natured a way as one possibly could, after having their masculinity put in the spotlight for scrutiny. He was attempting to maintain a air of dignity, or at least reclaim some shreds of it, as he started to follow. "One who knows how tae hold a wrench an' beat midgets against their skulls, like they should be beaten! Or shoot ‘em first so they dunnae cause any problems at all!"
Varric shook his head, sensing a rant oncoming. He said nothing, simply let it come.
“Like...HAN SHOT FIRST! WHY'D THEY HAVE TAE MESS WITH THAT?”
“Because George Lucas is a control freak.” The writer shook his head. It was something fundamental that he spoke of, “He doesn't understand that once you let a story out, its too late to change it. It can change, and it will change, but it will evolve and grow of its own accord. As it as done, without his interference.”
"Someone should break his fingers," Scotty was saying, easily catching up with Varric so they were walking side by side. On this, he has definite opinions. "Just so he'll stop messing about with things. Least they couldae done was getting space travel sorted out right. Light speed. Pfft! Faster than light travel's possible. What about worm holes? Ye just fold space an' there ye are, without all the shite in the middle."
“Like in that show with the sex robots?”
“Which one's that? Lexx?”
“Battletoad Galaga?”
“...pity's sake.” Scotty started laughing.
“I try to avoid certain forms of fiction.”
“Ye can always polish Bianca!”
“I did, last night.”
“Maybe ye dinnae rub her hard enough?”
“Maybe? He acted like he was about to say something spooky and serious. “...she innae satisfied.” That said, it was followed by a low, ominous 'ooo~ooo!' noise.
A girl giggled at the pellet prominatley displayed on Scotty’s ass.
Scotty glared at the girl, then realized where her gaze was heading. Now in a huff, he pulled the pellet off the ass of his pants where it HAD gotten snagged, and threw it down on the ground. TAKE THAT, PELLET MADE OF LIES.
Varric started to laugh, and it turned into a guffaw. He slapped his hand on his knee.
Someone else who is made of lies is going to bear the brunt of a scuffle in three, two, one! Out shot Scotty's balled up fist, making contact with Varric's shoulder in a play punch. One that plainly said, HOW COULD YE, YE ARSE!
Trying to dodge aside, Varric held up a finger as if to say ‘wait’. He took Bianca off and set her aside, before holding his arms out in the universal gesture of ‘come at me bro.’
Oh? OH? REALLY? The Scotsman’s eyebrows rose WAY up like a gauntlet had just been thrown down, and he was all too ready for a challenge.
And there went his fist, tightly clenched, a scowl etched deeply into the lower half of his face. Its going to be like a soccer match gone horribly, horribly wrong. And he wasn't the one playing in the match, but one of those in the stands, and his team just lost. It was likely being heckled as well, just to add insult to injury.
“Laaaaaadies...” A voice belonging to a man dressed like a steampunk Rei from Neon Genesis Evangelion intervened. His plugsuit was designed with ribbing and gears, tubes and wiring like some twisted steampunkish borg. “Laaaaadies calm doooooooooown. You'll cause a ruckus.”
He had a fist raised up and at enough of an angle, that a downward punch appeared to be the trajectory. But instead, the challenge was put on pause, due to interuption by a third party. A third party in an anime and steampunk blended costume, enough that it was worthy of further study. He was frozen and silent, but that reverie was broken when he cheerily shouted out, "I like ye costume!"
Indeed, Scotty now looked and sounded very impressed by this new and unexpected development.
PIcking Bianca up, Varric was forced to agree, “The detail work is excellent.” He walked over to get a closer look.
‘Rei’ preened, clearly pleased with the attention, “Thank you, thank you, I slaved for MONTHS to get this just right! Finding the gears that still matched the general feel was SUCH hard work.”
“Scrap yard or prefab, custom made?” Scotty was inspecting the gears...actually the GEARS, no joke. He hasn’t noticed anything else attached to it, now. It’s purely aesthetics. Unfortunately for everyone involved, he was also had a very ‘hands on’ approach to things, which means if he sees it, and it looks like a gear or anything made of metal or wiring, he’s going to touch it. Which is where his pokey fingers went, to poking gears.
“Both! I had to work some of what I found at the scrap yard. Oh honey, watch your hands,” the man giggled. “But I had to custom make the really delicate ones!”
“Sorry, lass, tryin' to figure out if you had access to a sandblaster and re-plated them or not,” he answered, with a wrinkling up of his nose. It was the tinkerer's bane: Not being able to touch the machinery! He eyed her...it...like he's not sure she could make them on her own, and one eye is squintier than the other, like he's not sure of things, in general. Right now, there’s a Rei standing in front of him, and that always registered as female. “Did ye order this one, custom. I know some of the people online, who do that.”
“I made them myself!” ‘Rei’ looked insulted, huffing and scratching at stubble on his cheek. Varric shook his head in amusement. He’s seen stranger.
“Really!” He didn’t notice the facial rub, since he’s looking down again like he's trying to inspect them in much closer detail. “That's very nice craftsmanship. M'rather impressed. Are they functional, as well? I've got something they might fit into.”
He was not aware of how bad that might sound, no. Not at all. It has now gone technical, and all else that might be noticed is flying out the proverbial window.
“They're fully functional.” His tone became flirtatious, “Would you like me to see if they fit?”
Varric gave Scotty one warning, “Tinker....” He wasn’t certain that his friend realized Rei was a man, baby.
Noooope! Scotty doesn't have a clue and his mind is off and racing, that he can impliment those gears into some things he'd been tinkering with, and they might just be a perfect if it was a 4mm socket, which his expert eye was telling him it might be, for a good tight bolt fit.
"Oh, aye, I'd need me socket wrench," he was saying more to himself than anyone else. Maybe he was even talking to the gear in question, because that's sure what it looks like. If he was being spoken to, it was like the words had flown in for a landing but kept right on flying by, because there was no landing pad for them to land upon. "I left the metric one back in the room, I think. Mind if I borrow one of ye gears, an' take it with me? I'm pretty sure that one's the right fit." He pointed at one that was dangerously close to some 'boobage.' "I'll even give ye me cell number so ye can get it back, if yer afraid I'd take it."
He smiled and it was bright enough to serve as it's own lighthouse, that's how excited he was to have found this! Strange stroke of good fortune, for the win!
“Well we could go back to your room together....” Oh plsplsplsplsplsplsplsplsplspls.
Scotty barely looked up from the phone he'd just taken out of his pocket, before nodding and looking down again. Oh sure sure, Rei anime person, whatever you say. Machine parts? Yep, brain is locked on and he's pretty sure he can make this work. He did have a extra steam engine that needed just the right look to it, in case the original one had a pressure-related combustion failure. Which was a polite way of saying something built up too much and went kaboom.
"Oh, right...right...let's dae that! I can test the size with the sockets," he was saying, and since they didn't seem interested in his number as collateral, which he gave out to everyone anyway, he dropped the phone back into his overcoat pocket and gave it a pitpat to make sure it was going to stay put.
Leaning against a wall, Varric waved a hand at Scotty. He started to count backwards to one hundred, trying to anticipate Scotty’s realization.
‘Rei’ squealed, “Lead on handsome!”
"Right back, just a moment!" He nodded gleefuly over at Varric and then headed off at a jaunty pace for the motel room. Where, once he got there, he had to beat up the door again just to get back inside, which is probably making things a lot more desperate than they actually are.
He finally got the door open, with a sharp nudge of his shoulder against it, and nearly went flying...or falling...into the room. Using the doorknob to stop himself, it made it look as though he was holding the door open for a lady. Which also? Was not intended. But it's happened. We're going to roll with it.
Thirty...twenty nine..
“Ha ha, it's a bit rough around the edges,” Scotty said with a huge grin. He was talking about the door frame, but it could be applied to other things, too.
“I can’t wait to use your sprocket wrench.”
Eighteen, seventeen...
Scotty bent over to rummage through one of his bags of tools.
Three...two....
Rei admired the view and scooted closer, hands out in classic grabbing claws position.
One.
He suddenly bolted upright again and held up a wrench, turned, plonked it against the gear with a clang. No good! He picked out a different socket, slightly larger, and clonked that one down with a plink noise. “Brilliant! It fits. Mind if I borrow that, then?”
“Only for something in return.” Rei tried to not sound frustrated.
“I dunnae have much money. But I can compensate ye, if that's what ye want.”
The otaku leaned in, whispering something naughty in Scotty’s ear. His breath was hot. Scotty made him hot.
Scotty’s eyebrows raised way up. WAY up. “Oh? Oh. OH.”
“Hmm, my counting was off.” Varric glanced at Bianca, “Not yet, you think? Yeah, we’ll wait a bit longer.”
It’s still not registering fully. Enough that Scotty’s eyebrows were still raised way, way up. “Oh really?”
Rei nodded, grinning brightly.
"Nae, I've got a presentation tomorrow, but maybe some other time. I was thinking...ten?" Yes, it still hasn't registered, because now he's trying to bargain using a monetary means. Back to shop talk! "Twenty? I'm nae gonnae pay more than twenty five, that's for certain."
He started to look at the gear again, which meant he was staring right down at the bod in the flight suit. By the expression on Scotty's face, it looked like his brain was putting together how long it would take at warp five to get to Pluto and back, which was a lot of numbers stringing along.
A. Lot. Of. Numbers. Finally, he was coming to the end of the equation and it wasn’t an answer he liked very much. Maybe his math was faulty.
"Well. Right. Something's nae bent down there, is it?" he observed, suddenly, like he's talking about the weather and it's raining out, and he forgot an umbrella and just realized it. He pointed down at...things...with the wrench. Bad tuck job? Maybe. "Right. Nae the right person for that, lass...laddie...lady-man-thing."
After a two second pause, Scotty grinned, but it was a questioning grin. It was the sort one would give when they were about to bolt away from an axe murderer on the front doorstep and it was Halloween night, and one wasn't sure if it was a costume on a trick-or-treater or the real deal.
“I was thinking we could get real friendly, honey.”
It was then that the grin was gone in the blink of an eye, and Scotty was left with his only defense. He yelled. Quite audibly. It was a wordless cry for help, loud and clear.
“There we go!” Varric picked up Bianca and headed towards the room!
While he was waiting for Varric to get there, Scotty had jumped on the bed in an attempt to evade capture. Primarly because he wasn’t sure if it was right to pummel a man when dude looks like a lady. He was pretty sure that's not right, somehow, in some backwards round about way and even if man Rei was trying to play grab ass with him.
“YER A NICE LASS...LAD...BUT I'M NOT INTERESTED! NAE LIKE THAT!”
“But I gave you my GEARS!” As though that meant everything!
“And it was very nice of you to do so, but you don't want him. He has...” Varric waved a hand as he walked in to save the day, “Crabs..”
Looking horrified, Rei fled, shouting behind him that Scotty could keep the gear, it was all his and please please don’t try to give it back.
"Nae, the story was supposed to be syphilis! That's more Victorian sounding! Cannae ye get it right, man?! CRABS! REALLY!" Because, clearly, when you signal for help from your buddy to intervene, the premade story should follow your cosplay to the letter and include appropriate STDs.
At the mere thought of crabs, Scotty winced horribly, due to finding himself with the sudden urge to itch down there. Purely a psychosomatic reaction. When he thought Varric wasn't looking and he could be sneaky about it, he even scootched one finger down there and itched a little bit on his inner thigh. Just to make himself feel better and so the itching trigger in his brain would be flipped into the OFF position and stay that way.
“Do people still GET Syphilis?” Varric rested Bianca’s stock on the ground and leaned on her.
“Aye, I'd suppose,” he conceded, “but it just sounds nicer in a bad Victorian way, than CRABS are!”
Varric pulled out his pocket watch. “Corsets, Scotty. We're missing the corsets.”
“I DUNNAE CARE ABOUT CORSETS RIGHT NAE, I NEARLY GOT ME TOOL GREASED!”
“You need it.”
“I DUNNAE! NOT BY A MAN DRESSED LIKE AN ANIME GIRL!”
“Many would kill to sleep with Rei...” Varric spoke the truth.
“Ugh!” He iitched one last time while eyedarting until he felt normal again and then hopped down off the bed. Out the door he went, following Varric out and slammed the door before checking to make sure it was locked. “Well, I dunnae! Nae thank you!”
Fine, if had been femme Rei, then maybe. And it wasn’t that he had anything against gay people, he just wasn’t one of them, and was kind of berating himself for NOT NOTICING. Ultimately, male or female, he had genuinely been more interested in the GEARS. Which was pretty typical because his mind was on projects and not on getting laid, twenty-four seven. At least he has priorities!