2046-02-22 Please Don't Talk About My Penis

From X-Factor

Please Don't Talk About My Penis
Date Posted 2016/02/22
Location Richard's Apartment - Mutant Town
Participants Richard, Tiffany
Summary Tiffany and Richard have a talk after a hot shower.
Ririchard.JPG Tiftiffany.jpg
A cramped, tiny studio. It's messy, but not necessarily dirty. (Usually.) The kitchenette has the barest amount of space to warrant the name, and the rest of the apartment is mostly his bed and shelving. The latter of the two is stuffed to the brim with paperbacks, comic books, and a few model starships; science fiction, particularly of the pulpier kind, is the focus of the collection.

It is a winter day. The weather is cool and fair.

It's late in the morning when Richard steps out of the shower in the cramped bathroom of his cramped apartment. He opens the door to let some of the steam out and scrubs a towel over his hair to work it from soaked to damp. Eventually settling the towel over his shoulders, the rest of his lean musculature left bare in the privacy of his own home, he pulls out his toothbrush and toothpaste and starts the mundane process of brushing his teeth while peering at himself blandly in the mirror.

The steam does not need to dissipate for Tiffany's psionic-likeness to be projected into Richard's mind. She's quite visible even as it wafts up into the far corners of the man's bathroom.

Not reflected in the mirror, Tiffany extends a long, tan leg out of the shower stall. It's followed by the rest of her /slightly enhanced/ figure, hidden behind a fluffy white towel of her own. She appears to regard the back of Richard's with a confident but grave expression, "Well, one of us has to change." Her free hand lifts up between the cleavage created by the towel that's wrapped around her, and she pulls it up as if to stop it from slipping.

'Jumping out of one's skin' is not a /literal/ expression, fortunately. Richard gets close, though: he actually does startle straight off his feet several inches into the air with his body all twisting around to face her. (The her in his head, anyways.) "/BLUE BLAZES/!" Recognition brings with it at least a drop in the danger scale, if not an immediate drop in adrenaline. "/Tiffany/?! What the f--" No, not that. "What are you doing in my bathroom?! How did you even--" It's not until that point that he thinks of his own nudity and snatches the towel from his shoulder to try to wrap it around his hips with what's left of his dignity.

"Blue what?!" Tiffany's eyes widen and she juts her head forward as if to accuse him of some great impropriety. "LISTEN. I wanted to talk to you in private," she manages, sighing as she leans back against the tiled wall. "And I'm not really all about making a bunch of trips just because you take like, super long showers." The woman in the towel blinks at him as he covers himself, waving a finger in the air, "You know I'm not really here, right? I already know how big pretty much everybody's dick is." ... "Kudos."

"I don't take super long showers," Richard immediately argues, more out of instinctive defensiveness than anything else. "I -- what? Please don't talk about my penis. Even if you're not /here/ here--" His fingers curl around the twist of his towel in a death grip. "Have you ever heard of /knocking/?"

"Sorry. I won't bring it up again," Tiffany deadpans before taking the time to demonstrate her knocking ability by balling up a small fist and tap-tapping it against the shower-stall. Her hand passes right through it. "Knock, knock. Who is there? The person that can't interact physically with her environment."

"You have a /real/ body," Richard points out with lingering exasperation, his shoulders hunched. He exhales in a slow hiss between his teeth. "What /exactly/ did you need to psionically sneak into my apartment to talk to me about?"

“I didn’t want-” Tiffany purses her lips in thought. Her eyes shift as she considers her wording, “I might just be paranoid. But I didn’t want to risk someone being able to record…” The monotone young woman rolls her hand in the air, the other clasping her towel to inch it up a little more, “...with like, a bug or something. I was going to talk to Jeremy about it once we got back. But.” She shifts her eyes, again. “I didn’t want him to fire me or something for breaking the rules.”

Part of Richard relaxes. A different part of him tenses right back up. "Ah," he says, a certain reluctant recognition forming. "This is about Colorado."

Part of Richard relaxes. A different part of him tenses right back up. "Ah," he says, a certain reluctant recognition forming. "This is about Colorado."

"Yeah, I sortof-" Tiffany slow-spins on the balls of her feet, "-didn't take that nap I said I was going to take. Y'know, when they locked us in that suite. I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one. M'also pretty sure I *am* the only one that actually made it out of the room." And lifts up her dark hair to show Richard the nape of her neck, "Can you scrub my back?" She gives him a coquettish little over her shoulder pout.

"...ah." Richard, to his credit, doesn't look exactly /surprised/. He also doesn't look terrible judgmental about it. "Well. I might have tried as much at your age, if I could do what you do." His expression shifts quickly into a more furrowed frown. "No. What did you hear?"

Tiffany turns back to face him, squirming flirtatiously as she does so, "They were talking about /Time Dilation/. And you." ... "When we first met, I thought you'd just made that term up but when they said it, too. Well, I knew to try and listen. Your brother wouldn't let them bother you, but the general consensus seemed like, y'know, they think you're holding out on them. Stuff about alien Tompkins Square. The name Hortin? Horting?" She runs her bottom lip under her teeth in thought, watching him carefully for a reaction, "Research being conducted in Mutant Town."

"I'm not surprised to hear they were talking about any of those things," Richard says dryly as he does his best to ignore her squirming. It involves averting his eyes. "I didn't make up the term, no. It just means -- time running at a different speed." He smiles faintly at her. "You know, technically you're guilty of a few federal crimes."

Tiffany big shrugs, "If you cuff me, I might not be able to hold my towel up." She returns the smile with a tiny one of her own. "So, you're okay? You're not in trouble or anything?"

"Don't worry," Richard replies, tone desert-dry. "I don't work for the federal government anymore. Or the city government." His expression gentles as he smiles at her. "I'm not in trouble," he says, almost amused. "I'm not particularly worried about a building of scientists. I've faced a lot worse." He tips his head, considering. "Technically a lot of my life is classified. Technically I could also probably get thrown in prison for some of the stuff I've already told people. But. I was born in 1982."

"1982 A.D. you mean?" Tiffany doesn't miss a beat, turning her chin up as she speculates on whether or not he's telling her the truth. "Well." She appears to gulp, giving no real indication to mushiness in her tone, "I'm glad you're safe." Blink. "I was never here."

"Your-brother's-a-weird-masterbater-" Tiffany blurts, blinking out of existence.

"Wait--" But she's gone. Richard is left kind of gaping and baffled and maybe wondering if this whole conversation actually happened. Wat.

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