Lo isn't impressed. (thedemonlo) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-05-01 21:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, joshua frohmeyer (scud), lo |
Who: Scud + Lo
What: Lunch. A game of questions.
When: 4/30
Where: Lo’s office
Rating: Surprisingly low!
Status: Complete
True to his word, Lo had sent a car to pick him up for lunch. Scud was suitably amused by this fact, even if he did like driving. Saved on the price of gas, he supposed, and that was always a plus. It was probably weird of him, but he sat up front instead of the back -- chatting amiably with Lo's sassy and terribly likable driver Carl until they got where they were going. Lovely guy, really. Scud even found it in himself to apologize for half the mess that he'd made in the back the other day.
Stepping out of the car, the mechanic flicked his half finished cigarette into the road and didn't bother straightening out his attire of too-loose jeans and t-shirt. Comfortable wasn’t really neat, anyway.
Lo had gotten Chinese delivered to his office. He straightened his tie in advance of Scud’s arrival, trying not to get too excited. Nothing good would come from fancying him, Lo knew this; Scud wasn’t the type to settle down. ‘Vagabond’ was the closest word to describe what he was, and Lo knew it.
True, but he was a vagabond who had a distinct interest in creature comforts -- which was probably why he kept awkwardly texting Lo even when he had absolutely nothing to say. Scud was a little embarrassed by that in his own right, but clearly not enough to actually stop.
He had a tendency to make himself at home wherever he ended up; Scud waved a greeting at the intern before just letting himself into Lo’s office. If he got a weird look over it, he didn’t notice.
“Hey,” he greeted the not-ginger with a grin that was tremendously bright for a guy who hadn’t bothered sleeping the night before.
“Hello,” Lo grinned, sending an email before getting up to snog his guest. The intern was smart enough not to comment. Shutting the door, Lo moved to sit at the table where Chinese was laid out, humming in pleasure. Sweet and sour pork was good for what ailed a body.
Resting his elbows on the table after finding himself a seat, Scud leaned forward a bit in order to scoot one of his feet underneath himself in a strange sitting position. “S’goin’ on?” Scud was, apparently, not the best with starting conversations. “Oh. I forgot your clothes.” He’d had to borrow some in order to leave the other day, what with ruined suits and all.
“Don’t worry about it,” Lo murmured, opening a container and sniffing to himself. “Mmm, sweet and sour chicken. Want some?” He dumped some food onto a plate, sliding it over to Scud and grinning. “Clothes are just clothes, yeah?”
Scud sometimes really liked the fact that when Lo asked him a question, he didn’t actually have to answer it - it was strangely comfortable. He dragged the plate over and snatched up a pair of cheap wooden chopsticks. “Guess so,” he said, frowning at the sticks in his hand until he felt he was holding them suitably. The pants he’d stolen were long even for Scud though, who made it a habit of stepping all over the bottoms of his jeans. Then again, Lo was rather taller than him. “Oh well.”
“And I can always say that I’ve gotten you into my pants. Want a fork?” Lo stood up before Scud could answer, found some flatware, and returned with it. Scud really was comfortable to be around, a bit like a flannel shirt was comfortable to wear after repeated washings. It might have been a bit threadbare, but it was cosy. Lo knew that their relationship - or whatever it was - wasn’t exactly deep on substance or emotion, but it was comfy. He liked it.
Actually giggling over that, Scud put his fingers over his mouth to not-quite hide a smile. “You’da been able to say that anyway,” he pointed out the obvious. “But I’ll take the trophy of the spoils, I guess. Thanks, L.” Whether or not he was talking about the sex, the pants or the fork was not obvious.
“You’re welcome.” Lo liked Scud’s giggle; the man seemed not to laugh too often. It was nice to hear it. “Yes, I could say it anyway, but it’s more fun when it’s literal.” Using chopsticks to guide some rice expertly into his mouth, Lo smiled to himself, liking this new ‘Scud Coming Over for All the Lunches’ ritual they had.
Scud liked it, too. Admittedly, it wasn’t very hard for him to find a free meal - there was just something about him that was a bit like a puppy and people seemed to notice and just hand him things even when he didn’t ask. But this was a bit different - more companionable than it tended to be around most others.
“Can’t argue with that.” Then again, Scud didn’t really argue with anything. He only paused to chew and then rearrange himself on his chair. “So, busy day savin’ face and all?”
“Mostly keeping up the safehouse I run.” Lo smiled sadly. “I don’t really run it per se, but ... I don’t know, you’d be surprised how many people need a safe place in this industry.”
He was a little surprised by it, although he really wasn’t all that sure why. Scud rose an eyebrow, cocked his head to the side curiously. “Don’t ever get you into trouble, does it?” It was like he knew how to talk properly and had just stopped on purpose one day.
Lo shook his head. “Not often. Only once, because a former client of mine used it as a party house instead of its intended purpose. I found her holed up in the safe room with a cache of heroin. I fired her, and now she’s blonde and a train wreck.” He smiled tersely, still feeling betrayed by the little bitch. “Normally it’s used by women whose partners are a bit ... overzealous.”
“Violent, you mean.” Scud clarified a little uselessly with a strange look of distaste. He wasn’t one to object over much, but on this matter he clearly had some kind of moral code at least. But then he shrugged before eating more sweet and sour chicken -- ignoring the sauce completely so it was really not much more than a chicken finger. “Well. Long as you’re safe about it,” he decided, finally.
“Yes,” Lo sighed. “It happens very often. I’ve also sent people there for rehab - it’s a clean space, everything locked down a few ways.” He smiled and nodded. “Very safe. It’s not in my name, I’m friends with the authorities in the area, and I only disclose it to a few people.” He actually, in truth, had the house and some apartments that were more flop pads, and those addresses changed out. They were investments, and it was partly why his clients were so loyal.
“Interesting,” Scud said, and sounded like he actually thought it was, in some regards. Certainly it was all more conversation worthy than ‘yeah, well, you’re gonna need a new muffler.’ Then again, most things were.
Scud pushed his plate away some in order to make room to settle his arms on the table and then rest his head there too. “What else?” he asked, sounding lazy but not uninterested.
Lo chuckled, tossing Scud a fortune cookie. “Unless you wanted more rice.”
Snorting, Scud took the fortune cookie, opening it and cracking it in half to pull the bit of paper out before actually eating it. “Wasn’t talking about food,” he pointed out, but then paused to read. “What’s yer fortune say?”
Cracking it open, Lo rolled his eyes. “You are careful and systematic in your business endeavors. Well. Yes. Obviously.” He smiled at Scud and bit his lower lip. “Yours?”
“Fits, anyway,” Scud said with a crooked smile before turning back to his slip of paper. “...You are often unaware of the effect you have on others.” He frowned at it, as if it made no sense. “Are you supposed to add ‘in bed’? Do people still do that?”
“Oh, I think that one just always suits you.” Lo blushed a little to himself, crossing his legs and shaking his head. “I certainly hope I don’t have business endeavors in bed.”
Scud’s expression was an innocent sort of blank for only a moment before he shrugged. “Yeah, don’t really see you taking your work t’bed with you.” He offered over half of his fortune cookie, as if maybe assuming that Lo liked them better than he did. The blush suited the other man though, and Scud wondered if maybe he couldn’t prompt it again.
“Not usually. I don’t sleep with clients.” He took the fortune cookie and nibbled it quietly. Idly he wondered to himself - what were they doing? It was very much like dating without resembling dating in any way. Lo never would’ve tolerated it from anyone else.
“Didn’t imagine you did,” Scud quipped, eating his half of the cookie in one go with an overly loud crunching accompaniment. “You don’t seem like someone who’d want things to get messy. Not like that anyway.” So astute and stupid at the same time, that Scud was.
“Oh? What do I seem like?” Lo sighed, wishing that he could seem approachable. It wasn’t that he didn’t want or didn’t like relationships, he just seldom had time for them, and he found people he liked even less often.
Reassuming his head in arms position from a few moments earlier, Scud nuzzled his cheek into his own upper arm before chewing his bottom lip in thought for a moment. He liked to think himself a bit worldly -- well, at least United States-ly -- and that he could read people decently well. It wasn’t always the case though, not really. He’d never been all that great at it, now that he thought on it.
“Haven’t figured it out yet,” he said finally. “Not completely.” Sure, he could figure a few things out (he wasn’t stupid), but maybe not the full picture yet.
“Well, what bits do you have so far?” Lo pulled out his cigarette case, lit one, and smirked to himself.
As if Lo pulling out a smoke was a reminder that that was something Scud liked to do, he sat up again to riffle through the pockets of his jeans until he produced his own pack and lucky zippo.
“Well,” he said, and then paused for long enough to light a smoke. “You don’t really seem like one for useless drama.” Work wise, Scud had noted that Lo had a very low tolerance for bullshit; he could only assume that bled over into normal life, too. He considered while he inhaled. What was too much to say? What was too little? “Y’re obviously smart. Maybe smarter than most. Think it might make it hard for you to -- you know. Connect?” Which was weird to say, because Scud was clearly aware that Lo was smarter than him. It really did beg the question of why he even let him hang around.
“Mmm, well observed. You’re smarter than you appear, though. You’re used to people underestimating you, but you use it to your advantage. If you don’t give people high expectations, you can’t mess things up. I like you.” He sighed to himself, wishing for a moment he hadn’t said any of it. But Lo didn’t dwell too long; it was what it was.
Considering that for a moment, Scud took a slow drag of his smoke, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs in a near mimicry of Lo’s positioning. “You are good,” he said, and instead of nodding gave a weird twitch of a hand gesture instead, as if half pointing. This was an odd (although kind of fun) almost-game to be playing, and Scud wondered when it would go bad. “I like you, too. Are you lonely?”
“Less so right now. What about you?” Lo grinned when the other man gestured. This was fun, yeah, but dangerous.
“Sometimes.” He ashed his cigarette in the tray on the table and then leaned back again. “It ain’t hard to find easy company. Don’t have many friends, though.”
“Why do you evade friendship?” Lo cocked his head to the side, worrying a bit for Scud’s happiness.
“Don’t stay put long enough, usually,” Scud said, blew out a ring of smoke, and then shook his head. The rules of this game weren’t completely clear, but he figured lying was probably right out. Or half lying. Whatever. “Don’t give high expectations, can’t mess things up.” Credit given where due, Lo hadn’t been particularly wrong. “What about you? Loads of friends? Barbeques on the weekends?”
“No. Usually too busy. For the record, I think your honesty is why I like you. It’s easier for us to connect if we don’t have all the bullshit in the way.” Lo wanted to ask where things were going, wanted to ask what Scud wanted, but instead he just took another drag off of his smoke.
Scud gave a nod at that - he didn’t really know Lo’s schedule, but he was aware of how constantly the other man’s phone went off. It was a little crazy. “Honesty’s a virtue, I heard,” he quipped, but didn’t really smile so much as raise his eyebrows. Honesty was one thing, volunteering information was completely another. Scud was no mind reader, and wouldn’t answer if he wasn’t asked. “What’s y’r real name?” Funny that Scud might ask that, but he’d found himself curious despite himself.
“Jeremy Lopau.” He smiled, looking down. “It’s Romanian, my mother and father came over about a year before I was born. Everyone called me Lo because it’s the only part of my last name teachers ever got right.” Besides, his parents only ever had called him Jeremy, and he’d hated it. “What’s yours?”
At that, Scud found himself with a smile. He got the feeling that wasn’t something Lo told often. He put his mostly finished smoke out and promptly lit a new one. “Joshua Frohmeyer.” Even he seemed to find humor in how bad a last name it was. “It’s German? Maybe?” He didn’t know, he’d never asked. “Scud because -- well. Don’t remember anymore, actually.”
“It’s shorter.” Lo smiled brightly, liking that they both had first names that were pretty simple and easy enough to nickname on their own, but they’d gone with things that were fairly strange and unique. “I have a question to ask you, and I want you to consider it. You don’t have to answer right away. I have to go to this really boring, fucking tedious fundraising dinner soon. Would you like to come with me?”
It’s shorter was basically the best answer anyone could have given on that, and Scud knew full well that Lo got it and so only gave a nod and a tiny chuckle. He tilted his head to the side curiously at the invitation, chewing his bottom lip for a moment. “Would I have to wear a tie?”
“Alas, yes. But you can tie me up with it afterward, if you like?” Lo shrugged, stubbing out his smoke and then lighting another.
Scud didn’t really mind wearing a tie -- he had no need for it in his current lifestyle, but wasn’t opposed to them. Lo was busy looking good in one right now, in fact. Multipurpose certainly helped the not-ginger’s cause, though. He snorted, amused and then gave a lazy half lift of his shoulders. “Alright.”
“Good. That’ll make it a bit easier to sit through. Carl’s scheduled to call me about an hour into the event with a family emergency,” Lo grinned, using liberal finger quotes.
That Lo couldn’t be bothered to sit alone for an hour at a charity event that he’d already made plans to mostly get out of was -- well. Telling. Scud quirked a brow, and chose not to point out that sometimes the not-ginger was rather transparent. “Aw, it’s for a charity,” he said instead. “Y’gotta think of the kids. Or the panda bears. Or...whatever the fuck it’s for.”
“It’s for one of those horrible rimjob charities where actors are helping other actors who don’t know how to dress or something.” Lo wrinkled his nose. “Fundraisers aren’t always for charities, sometimes they’re to raise money for buying someone more shoes or something.”
“What? Really?” Scud seemed shocked by that, and that was saying a lot, considering the man had been hanging out at truck stops since he was sixteen. Plenty of weird shit to see in places like those. He shook his head. “Wow.”
“They don’t come out and say it, but I’ve always thought the SAG fundraisers I go to are for that. I don’t even know what this one is for, I just wait to see what the banners say when I get there.” Lo couldn’t help but laugh. “Does that make me awful?”
Scud shrugged, chewing on one of his fingertip before answering. “Probably not. If y’don’t care you don’t care. Anyway, that shit all seems like a sham anyway.” But he was oddly interested in going anyway. It’d be like... the best kind of people watching possible.
“It basically is. We can do whatever you want afterward.” It would be fun to see what Scud wanted to do.
Settling his cigarette into the ashtray, Scud melted down into his chair somewhat. He had a talent for looking a bit boneless and lazy, and was currently mastering the art. “I’ll think on that,” he murmured. “When is it?”
“Saturday night.” Lo gestured with a cigarette. “I’ll give you Carl’s phone number in case you want to coordinate something or need anything.” He couldn’t help but smile to himself. “You can still back out, you know.”
Scud pulled his phone out from the depths of his jeans’ pocket and slide it half across the table toward the not-ginger, a nonverbal invitation to program it in himself. “Why would I back out?”
Lo put the number in the phone, cigarette dangling from his lips. “Because you and I aren’t dating. Unless you want to.” Well, now it was out there.
Could silence sound surprised? That’s what was going on, so it must have been possible. Scud sat up again, reached for his cigarette, but didn’t bother putting it to his lips once it was in hand. He chewed his bottom lip and then rose an eyebrow. “What’re you asking me?”
“Would you like to date? Do you want me to put it down on some notebook paper?” Lo found a business card and jotted down ‘do you want to be my boyfriend?’ and wrote ‘yes’ and ‘no’ underneath it before sliding it over.
It was fortunate for them both that Scud wasn’t inhaling when he picked up the card and read it. Laughing while inhaling smoke was a painful, painful thing; and Scud did laugh. It was an amused sort of chuckle though, not at Lo, but the situation in general.
He shook his head, still smiling, turned the card around in his fingers. “You want t’date me?” Scud was sometimes very poor at answering questions. But it wasn’t much more clear cut than the writing on the back of that business card. “If you want.” Clearly, he had no idea what he was signing up for, but was intrigued.
Lo blinked. “Well, yes, obviously I want. What do you want, Scud?”
“I like this,” Scud said, after a beat. Whatever this was -- even he wasn’t slow enough on the uptake to realise that there was one. One ‘this’. “Already said I liked you. Dating works.” He said it as if it were just that simple; took a slow drag from his cigarette.
“Well. Good.” Lo was flushed again, this time from how pleased he was. He smiled broadly, leaning back and lighting another cigarette. He figured they’d hash out what dating meant some other day.
And wouldn’t that end up being an interesting conversation when it happened? Scud’s smile was lopsided, amused by Lo’s blush. Endearing, he was sure the word was. “Good,” he repeated.