ASGARD; ic contact

[grimmig]

"You've reached Jim. 'Fraid my hands are otherwise occupied. Leave a message."

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Comments

[liquidsky]

[It's mostly the face and a bit of the ticking and then more of the ticking leading back to the face. Look, he has a fabulous fashion sense, too, you don't even know, but subtlety keeps his nose from not getting broken all the time.]

I stroke it in appreciation sometimes.

[He might have said more, but instead he just shrugs as Jim changes the subject and crouches down, that Bartemius Crouch, to pull at the floorboard and discover...

...socks. Neatly folded and colour coordinated no less.]

Ah. There they are.

[He gets up again, trying to gather the air of someone who hasn't just found his socks hidden under a floorboard.]

Let's stop looking before we find my underwear.

[Asgard's secrets no one wants to know Nr. 102: Barty Crouch jr goes commando.]

[grimmig]

[oh, but Jim is already well past the point of erasing that knowledge from his repertoire and absolutely not about to let go of anything that's just happened look at him look at how he's literally chinhandsing, chin on palm on elevated forearm on elbow on knee, leaning forward with the most amused smile on his face, grinning up at Barty from his chin's makeshift pedestal. if this is the sort of thing he'll be privy to during these little meetings he's going to have to make an effort to visit more often!

p.s whoever your boyfriend is, I like him.]

Trouble in paradise?

[liquidsky]

[Barty looks down at Jim for a few moments, literally, not figuratively, because when just about stripping down to less than his underwear - not quite literally, but close enough - there is really not much to feel superior about. But finally he just smiles, something he does rarely enough, and shakes his head.]

No, no. He's just underwhelmed by his enemies, so he does ...things when he gets bored. You shouldn't read into it. I don't.

[He decides to just leave the floorboard the way it is, because knowing the Master he'd be able to tell anyway, and walks over to the bed, sitting down next to Jim.]

What do you do against boredom?

[grimmig]

Me? There's a question. Back on planet Earth [that was so quaint aw he affords himself a laughing little stretch of lips, I can say that and mean it, I can say that and not be joking, novel, cute - ] I'd work. Here?

[a pause to shrug, languid and flamboyant, and gesture vaguely around the otherwise empty room.] Here I am.

[Jim's boredom is a fickle thing. before his stunt back on the rooftop an entire universe away, it had sat like a thin film over everything he did. when he didn't do, or did without difficulty, the lack of stimulation would create a vacuum into which that sticky film would creep, a PVC suit for the inside of his mind, filling in crevices and restricting, choking.

here, it's been different. here is fresh and new and that's been enough, to begin with. starting from scratch has been a marvel. but it's been months now, months, and freedom begins to cloy and clog and paint film afresh— it'll dry eventually, he imagines, and when it does he's back to the grind.

so here he is.]

Shall we talk child abuse?

[ might as well give our game a name, and since that's what it comes down to...!! ]