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[snaggleteeth]

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QIMIR

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@koby | prom tipsy text

[kobes]

hi
you look nice
i ahve gliters in my mouth???
:(

[attached, a very blurry, lopsided selfie of a very tipsy koby with his mouth open, tongue out. he does, indeed, have glitter there, smeared from the once-pristine sparkly gloss he'd been prevailed upon to wear.]

what do I Do

1/2

[snaggleteeth]

Mica is not bioavailable, so eating a small amount shouldn't cause any problems. It'll pass through your digestive tract without discomfort, unless you have an unusually sensitive stomach. I can't tell if you do. Your diet's confusing.

2/2

[snaggleteeth]

[—]

Thank you. You, too.

Gargle some water then wipe your mouth with a napkin.

[kobes]

its not confusing I eat sandwiches and potatoes and coffee
and thats all!!!!!





napkin in my mouth now
😞

[snaggleteeth]

Can you spit it out and send another picture?

[he is pretty sure he's going to have to go over there, but he's gotten into photography lately. better to have koby pictures than not.]

[kobes]

taste is there.

[but another photo, this one closer to the 😝 face than anything else.]

[snaggleteeth]

Keep it up and your face will get stuck like that. What will your favorites say?

[kobes]

about my mouth being open all the time?
theyll love it probably.

[koby.]

[snaggleteeth]

But they want to stare into your eyes while they fuck you. So, problem.

[kobes]

how do you know
did you ask?
at a party??
youre supised to be partying

[snaggleteeth]

That would be very good party conversation at Saltburnt manor. I'm great at parties. And I can hold my liquor.

[kobes]

im great and can hold my liquor dont be meannnnmmm

[snaggleteeth]

In your hands, maybe. In your stomach, if you don't keep going.

I'm trying to figure if you'd say you were great, if you were sober. It's sad I'm not sure.

[kobes]

im great at some stuff.
winking.

this liquors different.

[snaggleteeth]

Different, how?

[the response is a tad belated. noise, obligations. and why did balloons fall out of the ceiling or whatever.]

[kobes]

[koby had a similar, alarmed reaction, and is now texting from under a table where he jumped to hide himself.]

pink in it.

[snaggleteeth]

You're great at disappearing. That was fast. Lightning at sea.

Don't be scared. Buffy will protect you.

[kobes]

loud noises
on the dhip cannons meant time to hide
until we had to kill people then i had to get the mop

not SCARED
just quieter here.

[snaggleteeth]

Not the ship, though. Not cannonballs, but balloons. Not then, but now. Not under your captain, but with your friends. And me, somewhere across the room.

[kobes]

why acorss room
come over

[snaggleteeth]

I can't fit under a table. Have you seen me? I'm huge.

[kobes]

lying to me
you did at the library
under my desk!!!

→ action

[snaggleteeth]

[but he wasn't wearing these terrible clothes in the library, which are stiff, heavy, terrible to move around in. you even have to unbutton the jacket just to sit down. the stranger has been complaining about it in the privacy of his own head for the past forty five minutes, unwilling to forfeit wanda's weirdly specific joy or his brief reprieve from cancelation for his wisdom about vampire attacks. he doesn't reply.

instead, a glass of water pokes in under the tablecloth by koby's head, the meniscus of water seesawing dangerously without spilling. the next moment, 'qimir' is there. his (unbuttoned) jacket bunching as he makes his initial crouch. he slides in with the same fluid grace from the library. the top of his skull travels an inch shy of the table's underside, needing none of the conventional five senses to measure it.

the stranger finds koby in the gloom just as easily. some of that because of glitter, uneven constellations refracting colored light from koby's face. some of that, the vivid anima of haki. most of it, simply, because koby is hard to miss—bright in the light, pale in the dark. touchable in the diffuse shadows of liminal spaces and stolen minutes between busy dozens of obligations.]

Don't fuckin' tell Wanda, [he mutters, already dropping a shoulder, shrugging out of his jacket.] And drink this. [bossy. he knows, he knows.]

[kobes]

[koby doesn’t get drunk, is the thing – he’s been raised on a diet of rum, like any east blue child would, safer and cleaner than water in most cases, milk too expensive by far to waste on orphans. he can even handle the harder white liquor that comes in shots at nice restaurants – within reason. but he’d also grown up with very, very little sugar in his diet, an impractical flavor at sea, none of the necessity of citrus nor the longevity of salt.

so mixing booze with the sugary, pink-puckery punch at buffy’s prom/birthday had resulted in a drink that went down easy, but hit koby with the force of a brick to the head. a giggly, pink-cheeked, immediate-scooting-over-and-snuggling-up-to-qimir brick.]

No. [whispered, to the water, even as koby takes it, sips it, reflexively bratty, instinctively obedient. he hiccups mid-sip, makes a face at qimir like it’s his fault, then reaches out to tug at the still-on sleeve, clumsily trying to assist with the jacket removal.] Why’re you taking your clothes off. [another gulp of water.] Toldja you’d fit.

[snaggleteeth]

I don't like these clothes, [feels accurate enough, before the stranger amends,] for me, [because koby is wearing a jacket, too. also black. narrower in cut, youthful flair of modernity to it. no shirt, bold choice. the stranger finds he cannot remember whether koby was wearing a shirt earlier. he had been too far away. he would have remembered the faded seams of scar tissue winking up at him like a dirty punchline.

his arm closes around koby because that is how the human body arranges itself in gravity, when another happens to have flung itself over with dangerous abandon. with koby's help (or koby's interference), the jacket is evicted to just one wrist. the stranger manages to jiggle the rest of it off, his other elbow making an imperfect, geometric cradle under the pink fluff of koby's hair, around his shoulders. maybe if he were more drunk, he wouldn't mind formalwear, either.] Hey. Hey, hey.

You did a good job tonight. [his palm sweeps up koby's face in easy confidence, no caution spared to dodging his pupil's eyes because the stranger does not need sight to see. raking the pink fall of hair out of his eyes, pinning out to the crown of his head under the crook of his pinkie. removing the jacket was timely. koby emits heat like molten marzipan squirming in the pan.] Ani and Buffy are having fun, considering.