savetheearth | I read the news today, oh boy, about a lucky man who made the grade [February 4, OPEN]

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I read the news today, oh boy, about a lucky man who made the grade [February 4, OPEN]

Who: Lazarus Lawliet and open to anyone!
What: A day in the life
Where: Multiple locations around town
When: February 4, Wednesday
Warnings: Mild swearing and suggestive content

A- Willow Ridge Boarding Academy, Morning

With the help of various Numbered individuals, a few discreet contractors and one chameleon-faced custodian, Willow Ridge is coming into its own and turning into a somewhat respectable establishment. By now, it's common knowledge that the teleporter is in the finished basement that Shou has helped to turn into a very comfortable work space, and a clear and efficient path, complete with helpful paper signs, has been established to help anyone who wants to use it get there as quickly and easily as possible. Since he owns and inhabits the building housing the main mode of Numbered travel between echo zones, Lazarus sees some serious traffic, and has gotten used to it. He no longer automatically looks up every time he hears a door and footsteps, but sometimes if he knows that there will be a lot of people coming through, he makes sure that coffee and donuts are available for travelers coming and going.

That's not to say that people don't come to inquire about other matters. L employs Numbered when and where he can, whether they're handy with tools, good with computers, or are just capable enough to learn how to make a good latte. He's easy enough to find, tending to stick to where the teleporter, computers and coffee are located downstairs. That being said, if he's not there and you're looking for a quiet moment to speak with him in private, he's probably upstairs in his room, sitting by the open window and taking a cigarette break.

B- Espresso Yourself, Afternoon

Now that Espresso Yourself is open again, it means picking up slack as the Numbered population worldwide seems to be thinning out. While that makes the remaining Numbered more high profile and curious to the general public, it also means that Lazarus is scooping up shifts and stepping behind the counter on days where he's short-staffed in an effort to keep the business running smoothly. As long as he's making something like a profit, he can put that money into other projects and causes. Espresso Yourself isn't a cash cow, but it takes in with enough to keep up renovations on the school and provide the people working for him with a respectable paycheck. Considering the social climate they're occupying, that's not bad at all, and Lazarus won't complain.

Maybe you're here to sample the vegan offerings on the menu, or for a mid-afternoon smoothie, but if you drop by after school lets out, you might get caught in the middle of some trouble. Four of Locke City High's football players come in wearing varsity jackets, laughing and joking as they order the most needlessly complicated drinks they can. L knows they're trouble the second they start teasing Torin's parrots, but even after he tells them to cut it out, they're talking too loudly at their table, making audible fun of Lazarus, his employees and the hipster clientele. He stares; one of them makes eye contact with him, and grins as he dumps what's left of his latte on the hardwood floor.

"Hey, this coffee sucks!" he says loudly, to the answering laughter of his friends. Lazarus sets his jaw, reaching under the counter for a bucket half full of soapy water and grabbing a mop as he comes out from behind the counter. The offending football player snickers, standing up to allow him access to cleaning up the mess, but Lazarus holds the mop out toward him.

"Uh, I don't work here," he snorts.

"Clean up your mess," Lazarus says softly, pressing the handle into his chest.

Another one of the football players stands up, and the one who dumped his coffee knocks the handle away.

"Look, it was an accident. You're lucky I don't ask for my money back. What are you going to do about it?"

"No accident," Lazarus says, picking up the mop and practically flinging it at the kid. "Clean up your mess, and then get out."

"You taking crazy pills, bro?" the coffee spiller's a big guy, and he's not used to getting this kind of lip from people he could absolutely smear into the pavement.

"Actually, I..." Lazarus eyes widen, then he pinches the bridge of his nose, cringing. "Oh, shit. My prescriptions. I forgot to refill my prescriptions. Uh..." he nudges the bucket toward the jock, who takes a jumpy step back. "Just clean this up, please. I have to make a phone call."

C- Drug Store, Evening

Lazarus avoids eye contact with the old lady in line to pick up her prescription.

"Heart medication," she says sweetly, turning to glance at him. "When you get older, everything just starts falling apart!"

"Yeah... I know," Lazarus answers. "I can see that."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I didn't mean... just that I know it's hard getting older. I'm sorry."

There's a frosty silence for a few moments. "What are you here for, multivitamins? Those look like the jeans my granddaughter wears."

"...yeah, multivitamins."

Lazarus gets his seven different paper bags, dropping them in his basket and ignoring the way the old women watches his back as he walks away. He takes a turn down his favorite aisle; the assorted scents don't make a difference to him, but he takes a few of every color anyway, filling the rest of the basket with disinfectant spray and wipes. As he's putting the last can on the shelf into his basket though, he pauses, placing it carefully back. Lysol Disinfectant Spray, Spring Waterfall Scent. Not today, no room...

He glances up at the signs hanging above the aisles, labeling their content. Isn't there room in his life, now? Taking a quick survey of who is around and who might be watching, he goes several aisles down, staring at a pink, orange, and purple array of boxes. Words are printed on them to evoke pleasure, ecstasy, the promise that they won't be noticed. He reaches for one, selecting it more or less randomly, shoving it into his basket along with the many bottles of Lysol. As an afterthought, he reaches for a bottle of lube, debating whether or not to pocket it or put it back, but feeling strongly that it's a decision he needs to make quickly before anyone sees him.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yeah, yeah," the driver says through gritted teeth. "Like I said, I don't want to know."

"I'm nervous," L says. "Can you turn on the radio?"

He's barely finished the sentence before Miley Cyrus' "Party in the USA" is blaring; the driver has reached his awkwardness threshold and would prefer to drown out further opportunities for it.

"Hands up, play our song, butterflies fly away..." L mumbles, opening his box of condoms and squinting as he reads the instructions, peels open a single prophylactic, and practices putting it on his finger.

Yes, yes please radio. Drown out the intense levels of awkward that are happening right now. Lazarus how is it possible for any single human to be as awkward as you right now? How?

Phew. Tony sinks further into the seat, partially to avoid having to look out the window and partially as if maybe melting into the seat will spare him association with this...

L. What are you doing?

For a moment he's just stunned, because seriously who does this even? Absolutely stunned, then he lets out a sharp warning hiss. "L! I swear to god."

PUT THAT AWAY.

"What?" L asks blankly, eyes wide as he peers back at Tony. "Before you're wearing it, it's just a slimy balloon. I can't believe I was scared of these."

Experimentally, he licks it, then recoils.

"It tastes like rubber. There has to be a way to fix that."

"In the taxi!?"

Are you serious right now, L? Are you really serious? Tony probably looks a lot like a riled up badger right now, glaring at L from under his bangs while trying to stay ducked down in the seat because he can't decide if he's hiding from this situation or driving in general.

Maybe all of it, just all of it.

Oh good god. He's just. Going to obtain ball form and not move until they've reached their destination. "Flavored. They make flavored ones. You're not supposed to have sex with them, how do you not know this?"

"So hard with my girls not around me, it's definitely not a Nashville party,
'Cause all I see are stilettos, I guess I never got the mem- oh," L says, glancing back at Tony as if he's interrupted something kind of important, which might be L trying to cram more fingers into the condom.

"Three is standard, right? Or is it four? Now I'm insecure..."

He shakes his head, staring at Tony in his mortified, curled state. The condom tears when he tries to wiggle his thumb, and thus his entire hand, into it.

"What's the matter? Don't worry, pregnancy is only a risk if the condom breaks during intercourse and there's a female involved."

He's so proud of knowing that.

Universe, please? Please just swallow him up right now thank you. Please? No? L what are you even doing anymore?

"What? I don't know, whatever fits!" Good lord L why are you asking him this it's not like Tony is the expert on how big your member is supposed to be.

Seriously L you're not supposed to fit your fist in it, if that's necessary than you should probably not be putting that inside anyone. At least, in his opinion, he isn't going to judge anyone's preferences though.

"Oh my god, L." Arms go over his head and he tries desperately to force an implosion. It isn't working as well as he'd hoped. "Thanks for that I had no idea." He grumbles from between his knees. He's not even going to look anymore, it just keeps getting weirder and weirder.

L squints, trying to figure out the math of it all while Miley Cyrus' chipper voice serves as the bizarre backdrop for the whole situation.

He shakes his head, looking mystified at Tony's reaction. "They're slimy balloons," he reiterates loudly, going for another one and tearing it open with his teeth, given the current sliminess of his hands. He proceeds to try to blow one up, and he doesn't do poorly with the attempt. "Seriously, that's all they are..."

His sunken cheeks puff out with the effort of exhaling into the latex prophylactic, which is slowly but surely expanding.

This is all so very, very surreal. Idly Tony pinches his own arm, just to be absolutely certain that this is not in fact some incredibly bizarre and realistic dream. Unfortunately passing the waking test, he's forced to address the situation at hand.

Which is primarily L making the cab driver increasingly uncomfortable.

Instead of verbally commenting, Tony just quietly reaches out and aims to gently take the box of condoms away from L, and perhaps the one he's valiantly trying to make into a balloon as well. Please L, you need to stop.

"Maybe this revelation of yours would be better explored in private, and not in the back of this gentleman's cab?"

The cab driver's knuckles are white as they grip the steering wheel, and his jaw is set hard and rigid. L is so preoccupied with the condom at his mouth that he scarcely seems to notice Tony prying the box away from him, but when the younger man goes for that condom, he's startling and glancing sideways.

"Tony, you're acting like it's obscene," he complains. "It's a slimy. Balloon."

The cabbie comes to an abrupt stop. "We're here," he says shortly.

Oh dear god it only gets worse.

Tony squawks at the sudden stop, shooting the cab driver a withering look before shoving at Lazarus. "Out, come on, let's go." No more torturing the cab driver okay L? He does pause to mouth "I'm so sorry" at the driver before slipping out himself, in quite a hurry to extract himself from that particular bout of insanity. You can act like a lunatic in the clinic, L, not in a car.

L gives Tony a funny look, as if to ask what else would I do, now that we're here? He flinches slightly in his delicate, childish why as Tony shoves at him before letting himself out of the car and leaving fare for the driver that he doesn't actually seem to want to touch.

"Sometimes I get the feeling that I embarrass you..." he says uncertainly, as the cab driver speeds away.

Once the driver's paid, Tony's quick to lead the way away from the cab and the poor driver. Surely he's had far worse passengers, but even so. He lets out a sigh, running a hand back through his hair before shooting L a flat look. "Really," He mutters dryly, then shakes his head. Was it that obvious, L?

"That guy was five seconds from kicking us out of his cab on the street you know." Honestly were they not in someone's cab, he wouldn't have cared.

Lazarus stiffens slightly at the dry, semi-sarcastic answer, shoulders raising and head lowering as he slips his hands into his pockets.

"Right..." he agrees softly, "but that really seems like his problem... not mine. You don't agree?"

Tony sighs, forcing himself to soften his demeanor and tone. L doesn't deserve to be snapped at, even if he is acting a little obtuse and obnoxious.

"Well..." He trails off with a sigh. "It's his problem he got so worked up about it, yeah. Still, we gotta work on your awareness. It's kinda rude to do that in someone's cab y'know."

"I guess..."

It's probably the right word for it, given that he still sounds remarkably uncertain.

"It wasn't hurting anyone. It wasn't even making a mess," he points out. "Isn't that what awareness is, avoiding those things?"

"It's also avoiding doing things that make people really grossed out and uncomfortable. You might be fine with it, and think 'oh well it's their problem' but it isn't. They've got a right to not have to be really uncomfortable too. Called courtesy, y'know?"

He thought this sort of thing was just understood by everyone. Man, is he even explaining this in a way that makes sense?

No, it doesn't really make that much sense, judging from L's vaguely troubled expression that still doesn't quite give the impression that any of this is really connecting.

"But if something shouldn't make someone uncomfortable or grossed out..."

Sigh, sometimes he doesn't know what to do with you, L, sometimes.

"Except it does, sex is a pretty taboo subject. You just don't talk about that sort of thing, you know? So you playing with a condom, especially after making the guy think we're dating or something, was pretty weird. Sorry, dude, that's just how it is."

Edited 2015-05-04 22:00 (UTC)

"Wait, I just got done being told that sex is natural and nothing to be ashamed of," L says, sounding more confused than ever. "Is that... wrong? And we're obviously not a couple. I would never put up with someone who acted so ostentatiously ashamed of my behavior in front of a stranger. Romantic partners should have each other's backs in all things."

Oh good god. L, why must everything be so complicated with you. "It is but that doesn't mean you tell everyone about it! No one wants to know, dude, and sometimes it's better to keep your mouth shut. Being open about liking guys is a good way to get yourself beat to death, understand?"

The cabby probably wouldn't do that, but there are still people out there. Hate crimes are a thing, hate crimes are definitely a thing if you happen to be Numbered as well. "L you're acting inappropriate, anyone who cares about you isn't going to stand back and let you make an ass out of yourself."

Expecting someone to have your back regardless of how badly your acting is unfair. That's his stance on it anyway.

Besides Tony likes his partners to have a little more meat on them, sorry L you're too bony.

Lazarus gives him another long look, before his dark eyes wander skyward.

"Those aliens that don't seem to get us? I think I get them. In ways. How they must feel here."

Tony frowns, following L's gaze. He opens his mouth as if to argue, then shuts it with a quiet sigh. Sometimes, he really doesn't understand Lazarus.

Other times he does. It's usually those times that it hurts the most to do so.

"Do you?" A quieter murmur, he knows he's been harsh, he's been unfair. Grown too comfortable following the rules and pretending to know how to act like he's supposed to. "You're not an alien, L. You belong here, even if you drive me nuts sometimes." He says with a good-natured laugh as he moves to toss an arm over L's shoulders to steer him toward the clinic. "Come on, let's go make everyone uncomfortable while we get tested for diseases."

The shift in mood is reassuring. The change in Lazarus as a result is every bit as obvious as a dog wagging its tail after receiving a bit of praise (whether earned or not). He leans closer into the one-armed shoulder hug as they head toward the clinic.

"Yeah, hopefully... hopefully we're not HIV positive, right? Gotta be optimistic."

It's unfair to be angry with him, and it's not his fault anyway. Tony's just frustrated and a little wound up from the car ride and knows he's taking it out on L and that's not right. Even if he is the cause of the discomfort on the ride.

But he's delighted at the switch, and gives L a reassuring squeeze as they make their way.

"We'll be fine, this is just a precaution. We're bein' responsible that's all."

Of course, right. Optimism!

"Are you afraid of needles? It helps not to look," Lazarus suggests, happily switching gears right along with Tony and staying on-course as they approach the clinic almost hip to hip. "Counting, too."

I read the news today, oh boy, about a lucky man who made the grade [February 4, OPEN]

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