2046-09-21 Football, Sex and Violence

From X-Factor

Football, Sex and Violence
Date Posted 2016/09/21
Location Lounge - X-Factor Solutions
Participants Rohan, Eleanor
Summary Rohan is watching football. Eleanor interrupts him.
EleEleanor.jpg Rorohan.jpg
Rohan is abusing the holoprojector. Well, not literally. He's spread all over the couch, using the holoprojector's ability to get UK channel to watch what looks very much Yep, definitely soccer. He appears to have settled in for the night. He has popcorn.

It's too late at night for the tall cup of coffee that Eleanor is nursing through skinny green straws as she wanders into the lounge from beyond, at least for people with normal sleep schedules. She is wearing a dark skirt, dark leggings and a bright red and gold blouse with high heels that click with a certain muted aggression when she walks. Taking a long drag from her coffee, she rolls a look from the projection on the screen, to Rohan, and then back to the screen, and then back to Rohan.

"What?" asks Rohan. He munches on some popcorn. "I'm watching the footie. I'm English and I'm watching the footie. Are you having problems with this, Spook?"

Eleanor takes a longer suck of her coffee through her straws. She wanders over to the couch that he has annexed and contemplates the breadth of his sprawl. She lifts one high heeled shoe and shoves at his leg with her foot.

"There's two couches," points out Rohan, with a flash of a boyish grin. "You just want this one because it's warm."

Eleanor raises her eyebrows at him and, more imperiously, shoves at his leg with her own. "I have never understood spectator sports as a cultural phenomenon," she says, while doing so.

Rohan shoves back, entirely like a bratty big brother. He has some practice with that. From a long time ago, but still. "Well, it's...cultural," he says vaguely. "The excitement, the initiation into the tribe, and so on. And we don't get this channel."

Eleanor has no practice at this. She is an only child, and the queen of the world, or something. "Of course we don't, this is America, and we watch the kind of football that wants to be rugby when it grows up, except that I don't do either." Her next shove is a little bit more kick like. There's so much violence in this interchange. :( "Doing is more fun. Ever gone rock climbing? Or sailing?"

Rohan sighs the heavy sign of the martyred and moves his legs. A little. There is now enough room for a very narrow person to sit on the couch. "I've spent a lot of my life doing," he replies. "Sometimes I like to take a rest from doing. I just came back from a three hour plus trip to ride a horse, for instance."

Eleanor is not quite narrow enough, but she makes do. She makes do by wedging herself into the provided spot and then kind of ramming her hip into Rohan's side to force her way into a more reasonable amount of space. "I used to have riding lessons," she says. "I'm not sure which of my parents was responsible for that. Perhaps it was one of the miniscule areas of life in which they agreed, Eleanor riding horses. I haven't ridden in years, though."

"I learnt when I was young," says Rohan. "Country lad, me." He moves his feet over a little. "I found a stable, of all things, when I was having a bad night. I like it. I find horses restful because I can't feel their midns."

"I was quite young, too. Riding. Violin. Ballet. Et cetera, et cetera." Eleanor slings her arm over the back of the sofa in a casual assumption of space, settling herself back against the cushion behind her. Rohan is allowed to have /some/ couch. "I'm glad you've got a restful hobby. Horses will certainly keep you in fitter condition than eating junk and watching other men run around after a ball."

"I'm fit!" protests Rohan. "Would you like to see my muscles?" It's a generous offer. "It's a surprise I have time to watch men run around after a ball, given how busy I am."

"I've seen them," Eleanor tells Rohan with a sigh. She slurps up more of her coffee through the straw and slouches back into the sofa, crossing her legs. She blocks a yawn with her fist next and shakes her head. "Running you around at Open Hands, are you? We were doing flu shots at the clinic today. It's back to school season."

"Open Hands," says Rohan. "Here. My other pursuits. It's clean exhausting." He sighs heavily, and gives her a puppy dog look meant to convey utter exhaustion. "Good lord. I had a brief flash of the flu running rampant through Open Hands. Bad image."

"Shall I make some house calls?" Eleanor asks him with a wry, crooked smile. "God, why am I volunteering? I'm already run off my feet."

"I'll talk to the others, see if we have flu shots planned," says Rohan. "For all I know, maybe it's already been thought of." He sits up a little, rubbing his face. "Because you care?"

"Terrible." Eleanor drains the coffee to the dregs and sets aside the empty cup, blowing out her breath. Then she leans back, glancing sidelong at him. "Busy is good, though. I mean, I suppose it beats the alternatives?"

{Valerie} [To Rohan] Hey hot stuff. Thinking of me?

"Bored?" asks Rohan, with an arched eyebrow. "Broke? Lost in despair?" His expression goes distant for a moment; the expression of someone distracted by their Eyes.

{Rohan} Always, sexy.

{Valerie} What're you thinking about?

"Yes, any of those sound dreadful." Eleanor's mouth twists a little as she watches him. She momentarily glances at the football game, but honestly has little frame of reference for finding it interesting. (It's not just that she's American and it's soccer, although that could probably be at least part of it.)

{Rohan} You, me, and a hayloft.

{Valerie} Dirty.

Rohan looks quite distracted for a moment. He bites his lip, looking away, and then flashes Eleanor a quick smile. "They're all dreadful," he says, rather earnestly for him. "I'm determined to avoid them from now on."

{Rohan} You'd look hot naked in the hay. Or naked anywhere.

{Valerie} Damn right.

{Valerie} Shit. Hold that thought. Have a thing.

{Valerie} Later R.

{Rohan} I'm holding lots of thoughts. I'll keep them hot for you.

"Good," Eleanor says, watching him with a faintly quizzical pinch between her brows as she favors him with a faint smile. "I'm happy to hear it."

Rohan's eyes flick again, behind his Eyes, and for a moment, he almost squirms on the couch. He clears his throat, looking back to Eleanor, his cheeks very faintly flushed. "Sorry," he says. "Friend was messaging me. It's all right; she had to go." He watches Eleanor for a moment, and shrugs. "I've been through a lot of darkness," he says. "Some of it was my own fault. I'm--well. I want to be happy now. Which is harder than it sounds, but."

Eyebrows flying high towards her hairline, Eleanor says: "I see," in a voice of bland amusement. She tilts slightly forward and pats his shoulder with one hand, leaving her hand there to squeeze in a light pressure as she says, "It's a choice to make. Going through darkness versus owning darkness versus becoming darkness ... I don't know. I'm glad you want to. And if you want to be alone with your popcorn and your, uh, friend, I can certainly leave you to it, although most people would probably do that somewhere private."

"It'd have been easy to become darkness," replies Rohan firmly. "I wasn't going to." For all the determination in his voice, his thoughts are still apparently elsewhere, and he squirms a little bit more. "Er. I told you, she had to go." He takes a deep breath, and adds, lightly, "Tease. Er. I'm not sure you'd understand?"

"I'm medically familiar with the process," Eleanor assures him blithely.

"That's not very comforting," Rohan tells her, with a snort. "Sometimes someone starts you going, so to speak, and then runs off. It's both hot and frustrating." He shifts where he sits again, and settles his popcorn more firmly on his lap. "But apparently I'm happier when I have...a friend."

"You're happier when frustrated in specific rather than in general," Eleanor says in the tone of one seeking clarification. She props her elbow on the arm of the sofa and props her chin on her palm, watching him with a faint smile lifting her lips at the corners.

Rohan raises his eyebrows, looking back to her briefly, before he shifts his glance to the wall. Because the wall is the exact opposite of sexy. "I'm happier," he explains, "when I have a reasonable expectation that my frustration will be relieved in the near future. I am also happier when someone is interested enough to specifically frustrate me."

Eleanor huffs a snort, lips closing in a thin press as she shakes her head. "Well, I wish you all the joy your frustration and its relief may give you," she says with tolerant humor in her low voice. "Personally I find my life much simpler. Bunbury does occasionally do his best to aggravate me, but it is rarely so serious as to evoke any kind of innate biological response."

"Well, you see," says Rohan, thoughtful, "the whole thing...well, the actual act, the process you are medically familiar with...that's only really a small part of it. The build-up--that's like a game. A dance, a duel. You thrust--metaphorically speaking--you parry, you sidestep, you tangle desires and wits, you withhold, you retreat, you frustrate--in order to build anticipation. If you do it, by the time you get to touching, you're dying for it." He shrugs. "However, you're right. My life'd be a lot simpler without it. Brought me a lot of grief, sometimes."

Eleanor snickers a little when he says the word 'thrust', and rolls her eyes at the ceiling before she scrubs at the side of her face. Then she exhales in a long low breath. She says, "I've observed attraction, you know. Watched the mating dance and so on. Usually from inside people's heads, but ... I felt like an anthropologist taking field notes. I certainly can't tell you to take my route. The absence of wanting isn't abstinence. I abstain from nothing." She laces her fingers together in her lap and looks at him gravely. "I can only advise you that if you have an erection that lasts longer than a few hours, you had better give me a call."

"I tried to abstain," Rohan tells her solemnly. "I abstained for nearly two years." He tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth. "It wasn't fun," he informs her, with a shrug. He snorts. "It's not happened yet, but I'll keep that in mind." He rests back against the couch, and watches her. "If you don't mind me asking," he says, "are you...not able to do romance either? Can you love without sex or just only want friendship from anyone?" A pause. "And if you do mind me asking, kick me."

Eleanor laughs and scratches a little at the back of her head. "What--" she begins, and then she tips her head, looking ceilingwards with eyebrows swept high. "I've dated around a bit, trying, you know, but honestly I just don't see the point. Friendship is love. Family-- is complicated. But-- I don't... I don't know."

"Friendship is love," agrees Rohan. "But I think romantic love is different." He snorts. "Not that I've had a lot of experience of it." He smiles warmly at you. "It's okay, you know. You're Ellie, and whatever you are is okay. I only asked because I wanted to know what your happy looked like."

She laughs again, a little softer, and rubs her eyes between middle finger and thumb. "Hell, who knows." Eleanor tilts sideways and bumps her shoulder against his, saying, "But thank you."

Rohan laughs, and returns the bump. "I wish for very good friends for you," he tells her. "And bunnies. Definitely bunnies. Just don't skin them for your slippers."

"I promise you that my bunny and my bunny slippers will always come from very distinct sources." Eleanor sighs a little, and then pushes up to her feet. "Oof. My coffee is gone, and I still have to take the 4 back to Brooklyn, so I probably shouldn't even be here."

"Want a ride?" offers Rohan, reaching for the remote to turn off the football. "My bike's quicker than the 4."

"And interrupt the footie?" Eleanor smiles at him, humor bright. "Are you sure?"

"Well, the game took place five hours ago," admits Rohan. "I already know who won. Besides, I think zooming through traffic is probably better at working off frustration."

Eleanor laughs aloud. "Okay," she says, and turns to head for the door, saying lightly as she goes, "Thanks."

"I'll make you pay me in coffee," replies Rohan as he turns for the door. "Or possibly dinners. Or bunnies."

Eleanor says, "Good idea," and flicks off the lights in the lounge as they leave.

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