whizbangs | ic contact

[carol just rolls her eyes at his spiel, while on the tv the music starts up all loud and uplifting, the helicopter coming into view of the island; he hasn't missed too much of it.]

I know you do, stupid, I live with you. I'm very proud. Now siddown.

[and she puts her mug down on the coffee table, shifts to make room for him.

this is gonna be a fun time, she can already tell.]

[the redhead scowls, sitting on the floor directly in front of her, between the couch and the coffee table, so that he can watch the movie and get this the hell over with at the same time]

[he's no sooner popped a squat than he's itching fiercely at the back of his neck]

Cut that out.

[so so tempted to smack his hand away, but she knows he'll just be a shit about it, so she takes up the comb instead.

but doesn't start straight away.

because carol is a shit too.

RUFFLES HIS HAIR ALL UP.]

[grips the coffee table, hunching shoulders!]

H-hey! That ain't combin'! Kn-knock it off! Aa-ah-ah-aaah!!

[his leg flails out from under him, and blur of fur rrrroowls and streaks from under the coffee table]

[sneering grin at the unintentional direct hit]

[stops scruffing him up long enough to smack him in the back of the head, scowling.]

I'm emptying the litter box onto your bed tonight. Sit still.

[and she grabs his dumb damp head and makes him face straight forward (after one last ruffle), runs the comb sharply through it.

prays she doesn't catch fleas herself from doing this, if she doesn't have them already.]

[the boy's predictably tense under her fingertips, but it's like an idle tenseness (he never really relaxes, except into an unconscious sprawl whenever he falls asleep -- wherever he falls asleep)]

[his hands drop to his lap, shoulders still hunched stupidly]

[the movie has his attention for a few minutes, but then he asks, along the same lines she's thinking]

So d'ya got 'em too? You're gonna.

[it's like running a comb through a soggy orange haystack, but the repetitive motion of combing while she half-watches the movie is also weirdly calming. she's been a little on edge lately.

carol frowns at the question, though, wrinkling her nose.]

Dunno yet. No itching so far. Who the hell gave 'em to you, anyway?

Hnnf. Some fucking kid.

[it's hard to say, sometimes, whether Badou is secretive because of his previous lifestyle, or just because he's just being a lousy, lazy teenager]

[he's unaware of why a bit of a haze (of sorts) is descending over him; it's been a long, long time since someone combed through his hair]

Edited 2013-08-15 10:07 (UTC)

[she sweeps back the hair over one ear and combs through it, pressing hard -- lice love nesting there, fleas probably do too.]

Good luck to whoever lives with him. Don't bring him over here, like we need this to happen again.

[jeff goldblum is on the screen, and that catches carol's attention for a minute -- when she looks back down there's a flea on the back of her hand, digging in. she crushes it mercilessly with the teeth of the comb.]

Eugh.

[the sweep of his hair forward tickles a bit, and the redhead twitches a bit doggishly, but doesn't move away; god, he wants those wriggly, bitey little fuckers off]

He's probably gonna show up. I dunno. He might try ta stab you but that's how he says hello, I think. So if somebody tries ta stab you, it's probably him, I mean. He's okay besides that.

[horrifyingly; even crawling with fleas, Badou likes him (because he's had worse, seen worse, anyway)]

[a green eye shutters to half-closed at the harder press of comb, and the movie blurs a bit more]

[fleas, stabbing. a memory stirs--]

Wait, is this that weird kid? The one with the sorta caveman vibe?

[badou makes the weirdest friends. then again, the fact that he actually is making friends makes her smile a little, lopsided, at the back of his head.

comb comb comb.]

Take him to the vet before he comes by again, then.

[the boy huffs, and he draws up those lanky, growing too-fast too-awkward legs, resting bandaged arms on knees, and a sharp chin on top]

Fuck off! Just 'coz somebody's got fleas it don't mean they're a goddamn animal! Nill's had fuckin' fleas! ...An' she probably has 'em again.

[high-pinioned shoulders are slowly relaxing, and it's probably strange to see a lazy curve where it's usually all irritable lines]

You gave them to Nill? You're a terrible friend.

[said wryly, teasing, as carol starts in at the back where he was scratching before, in underneath all his hair, combing from the bottom up. she's only found a few fleas so far, a lot more flea dirt.

it reminds her of the couple of times she's had to de-flea chewie. they're both about the same color, too.

onscreen, brachiosaurus or apatosaurus or whatever the proper name is romp. it feels kind of peaceful.]

She ain't my friend, she's just some girl!

[it's mumbled sourly, mostly to his arms, but still audible over the groans and roars of the dinosaurs on TV]

[and they're just getting blurrier again when a sudden bite, a sudden itch, makes his neck twinge and his head shift]

Nngh -- are you gettin' any out?

[she just smirks at his protests. not his friend, sure, never mind the fact that he's acted like a dumb kid with a dumb crush every time carol's seen him talk to her.

it's kinda cute.]

Some, keep still. Where'd that one get you?

I dunno, the fucking head?

[being belligerent helps, right]

[and the boy is quiet again, refocusing on the movie]

[carol whaps him on the head again for that belligerence, halfheartedly, and goes back to work.

sweeping more of his hair back with her fingers to get underneath it, she feels a coil of dumb fondness in her gut. stupid kid.]

I got all three. Movies, I mean. Even though the third one kinda sucks.

Stop hittin' me! I'll rub my fucking head all over your bed!

[he buries more of his face against his arm]

...It don't kinda suck, it sucks every dick since the dawn'a time, dinosaur-style.

[lightly scruffles up his hair]

The lack of Goldblum is disappointing. Spinosaurus is cool, though.

Goldblum? That's the kinda shit you're inta?

[assumes the scruffles are productive]

[incredibly productive. scrufflescruffle comb comb.]

Usually I go in for a few more muscles, but I mean have you seen the part where his shirt's all open like that?

Chaotiticians are sexy.

[real talk with mom.]

Yah I must'a missed that part. He's like a million years old.

[whoops eye closes]

Well he is now, sure.

[not as many fleas popping up now, but she keeps up the combing anyway, settling into a more comfortable position while she does, tucking her legs up under her.

have they ever sat down and done anything dumb and quiet like this before?]

Like you'd know anyway.

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

Re: action

no subject