7.5" cock with a firestarter attached to it. we don't have to talk if you'd rather just suck it.
My Future Plans
staying alive.
My Talents
i can skin anything in under 5 minutes. i can take apart an UZI and put it back together in the dark. you can't kill me.
and i play guitar.
Favorite Books, Movies, Music, and Food
favorite author: ayn rand favorite movie: snowpiercer favorite band: sisters of mercy favorite food: pork lo mein
My Ideal Partner
warm body (warmth optional) who's dtf 24/7 and doesn't ask stupid questions.
Height
5'11"
Body Type
athletic
Smokes
constantly
Drinks
constantly
Drugs
frequently
Sign
capricorn
Education
homeschooled
Occupation
data broker
Income
not your problem
Children
not your problem
Pets
crusher (dog)
Hobbies
activism, drinking, sex
Fuck, Dodger, I don't know, I thought you were going to pull my hair or fuck me until I cried or something!
[ He opens his eyes, looking a little hurt but not really angry. And when he catches Dodger's expression, his own becomes embarrassed. Ashamed, even, as his eyes drops to his lap. He knows better. Dodger may be the one with blood in his teeth, but Alan came in wanting to be ravished without saying what that meant. It would be selfish to pretend he had no part in the mistake. ]
I don't know, [ again. ] I should have asked you. I wasn't thinking.
[Dodger ducks his head a bit, looking like a dog being corrected. Sure, that makes sense. That's probably... the sort of pain someone would think of if they weren't used to really getting hurt during sex.
Somehow, he feels like the scars left on him from Bigby's claws are aching.]
It's fine. We can't change it now. [He shrugs awkwardly.] Just... maybe don't tell anyone else about this. I don't... I don't want to give Bloemrose more ammo against me.
[It's not exactly Esikko he's worried about, he's already written him off as a liar. But Scott would take it seriously, Scott would get angry at him again, for some thing he did actually do this time.]
[Dodger bites his lip, and glances up with a startled expression. But- right, right, okay, moping is not helping anyone.]
Sorry.
[He shakes his head, and takes a deep breath of his own.]
Just-... I've been in my head about... still being the person I used to be. When I showed up. It isn't really your problem, it's-... I just don't want to scare you off.
[He checks the bite-mark again... it should be safe to take the gauze away now. And he stuffs it in his pocket, before Alan can see how much blood is on it. At least he sounds a lot more confident when he gives care instructions.]
Be careful for the next few days, don't try and stretch your neck or anything before it scars over.
[ Maybe he shouldn't say this. He says it anyway. ]
I think it's my problem when you want me to keep quiet about it.
[ He squeezes Dodger's knee again, trying to make the words land as a plea, not an accusation. ]
I've got people who'll notice I've got a fuckin' great bandage on my neck. I don't want to make trouble for you, I swear to God, I'll try and keep your name out of it, but I can't pretend it didn't happen.
[Dodger takes another breath, and nods slowly. There's something almost comical about Alan not wanting to make trouble for Dodger, but he appreciates it. Enough that with anyone else he'd want to kiss them to show his appreciation but that's... off the table. So he hesitates, before leaning forward to press a kiss to Alan's forehead instead.]
[ He isn't sure what he wants to do, exactly. He can't remember the last time something shook him or frightened him badly enough to stop sex. Part of him is starting to wonder if he overreacted; part of him is wondering why he's underreacting. And part of him is aware that it's probably incumbent on him, now that the initial panic is past, to guide them through these choppy waters. ]
[Dodger takes a moment to pack himself back into his pants, just for posterity, and pulls his jacket off to wrap around Alan's shoulders. Which has the unintentional side effect of fully revealing the UZIs holstered on his shoulders, but he isn't really thinking about them right now.
He is in fact fully focused on getting up and checking the room for a blanket. Which he finds - something soft, minky and bright red - and works on laying over Alan's lap.]
[It takes Dodger a second to even... remember that the UZIs are there, much less figure out why someone would call attention to them.
Right. This is not normal.]
Got 'em back from home, they're the guns I bought with Augustine's money when he hired me. They don't have bullets in them, they're just... familiar weight, I guess, like keeping your phone and wallet in your pocket.
[Which is definitely something a man from the 1910s would be able to relate to, Dodger, good job.]
They're supposed to have bullets, but... no, they didn't come with any. They've got some magic on them, makes them... set off suit flares. So they're not coming out anywhere near you.
[As much as he would love to pressure Alan into gunplay.]
[ Though he wasn't too worried once Dodger clarified that the guns weren't loaded, having them set down is something of a relief. More to the point, though, is the thought behind the gesture, the clear signal from Dodger that nothing about him is a threat. At least insofar as a man who can set fires with a snap of his fingers can be unthreatening. ]
Fuckin' 'ell. [ He sighs. ] I don't know whether to be grateful or not that they've never given me anything. Seems like they're all Trojan horses one way or another.
[ While he talks, he reaches up to touch the bite gingerly, thoughtlessly. It feels a little tacky with drying blood, and tender, but better than it did. ]
I got my necklace back without any trouble. So there's that.
[Just an unrelated case of glowing dick that started the moment he put on the necklace and ended a few days later... he never takes it off, so he truly never made the connection.
Dodger sighs softly, and gestures for Alan to move closer to him, in case he wants to take advantage of Dodger's heat.]
[ He takes the invitation with barely a thought, less for the heat and more for the solidity of Dodger's frame. ]
I'm not sure. I never went in for keepsakes much. Though, er--
A letter. I had a letter from someone who read my stories and liked them enough to get word to me. And I met him, in the end. But before I met him he was just -- a kind stranger. [ He laughs softly, wry. ] With particular taste in pornography.
[Dodger slides a hand around Alan's shoulders, and heats his skin up enough to feel like a heating pad.]
Don't know if I've ever seen a hand-written letter before.
[He has some more thoughts there - like the fact that Alan probably would be disgustingly wealthy in the modern era. But maybe he doesn't need to tell Alan about Chuck Tingle, especially since Dodger would prefer not to broadcast that he reads 'trashy' porn unlike splatterpunk.]
I've got some keepsakes I usually take with me when I move new places, but... I'm kind of glad they haven't shown up. Easier to tell myself they're not getting damaged if they're back home. Photos of my parents, things like that.
I mean people use pens, just not for snail-mail. Most people type up e-mails on their phone, or they make it a text conversation. Like talking on the Watches.
[Dodger doesn't own a computer, is what he's saying, in his mind those are for nerds and old people. (And yet he can read and write cursive, because the homeschooling knowledge base is an incomprehensible web of random holes.)
That question makes him pause, though, and his face turns red.]
I- yeah. A couple. Mostly my brother's family but there was some- a few, of my mom. Some people got to keep theirs but.. I didn't play the game well enough, so I didn't.
[He still took photos of them on his Watch, because he knew he wouldn't get to keep them. But they're intensely private.]
[ The hesitation draws Alan's attention. It feels wrong to apologize for the question, but he puts his hand on Dodger's thigh to try and express some kind of sympathy. ]
I didn't, either. But they felt so fake, anyway. We never could have afforded photographs like that.
Sure... some of them were. Most of mine were real.
[His gaze flickers down to the hand on his thigh, but he's slowly starting to get more used to gestures like this. So there isn't confusion on his face, just self-consciousness. He still doesn't like being the kind of person that people need to check in on constantly.]
Henry got some too, and he's... from too far in the past to have photos. So he got to see his parents again, not sure he cared that they were fake.
[He could talk about the frustration of cohabitating with Toma, or the constant migraines, or having other people see his private photos, or reality-shifting while riding his motorcycle at 30 miles an hour... but he has the good sense to realize that would all probably bring the mood right back down, even if he does sort of want to vent.
Happy thoughts.]
Got to be married to Henry for a while. And... explain all sorts of things to him, sort of paying me back for him having to explain things to me in November. Got to meet his dog, too.
[Although maybe it's clear from his tone of voice that he doesn't actually have a high opinion of Henry's dog.]
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[ He opens his eyes, looking a little hurt but not really angry. And when he catches Dodger's expression, his own becomes embarrassed. Ashamed, even, as his eyes drops to his lap. He knows better. Dodger may be the one with blood in his teeth, but Alan came in wanting to be ravished without saying what that meant. It would be selfish to pretend he had no part in the mistake. ]
I don't know, [ again. ] I should have asked you. I wasn't thinking.
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Somehow, he feels like the scars left on him from Bigby's claws are aching.]
It's fine. We can't change it now. [He shrugs awkwardly.] Just... maybe don't tell anyone else about this. I don't... I don't want to give Bloemrose more ammo against me.
[It's not exactly Esikko he's worried about, he's already written him off as a liar. But Scott would take it seriously, Scott would get angry at him again, for some thing he did actually do this time.]
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[ He reaches down to put a hand on Dodger's knee, squeezing it. ]
Watching you look like I'm kicking you doesn't make me feel better, for Christ's sake. I'm not your fuckin' boss, sono il tuo dannato amico.
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Sorry.
[He shakes his head, and takes a deep breath of his own.]
Just-... I've been in my head about... still being the person I used to be. When I showed up. It isn't really your problem, it's-... I just don't want to scare you off.
[He checks the bite-mark again... it should be safe to take the gauze away now. And he stuffs it in his pocket, before Alan can see how much blood is on it. At least he sounds a lot more confident when he gives care instructions.]
Be careful for the next few days, don't try and stretch your neck or anything before it scars over.
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[ Maybe he shouldn't say this. He says it anyway. ]
I think it's my problem when you want me to keep quiet about it.
[ He squeezes Dodger's knee again, trying to make the words land as a plea, not an accusation. ]
I've got people who'll notice I've got a fuckin' great bandage on my neck. I don't want to make trouble for you, I swear to God, I'll try and keep your name out of it, but I can't pretend it didn't happen.
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That's fine. That's plenty.
[A pause.]
Do you want me to grab your clothes...?
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[ He isn't sure what he wants to do, exactly. He can't remember the last time something shook him or frightened him badly enough to stop sex. Part of him is starting to wonder if he overreacted; part of him is wondering why he's underreacting. And part of him is aware that it's probably incumbent on him, now that the initial panic is past, to guide them through these choppy waters. ]
Is there a blanket?
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[Dodger takes a moment to pack himself back into his pants, just for posterity, and pulls his jacket off to wrap around Alan's shoulders. Which has the unintentional side effect of fully revealing the UZIs holstered on his shoulders, but he isn't really thinking about them right now.
He is in fact fully focused on getting up and checking the room for a blanket. Which he finds - something soft, minky and bright red - and works on laying over Alan's lap.]
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[ AND WHY DID HE BRING THEM TO A HOOK-UP ]
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Right. This is not normal.]
Got 'em back from home, they're the guns I bought with Augustine's money when he hired me. They don't have bullets in them, they're just... familiar weight, I guess, like keeping your phone and wallet in your pocket.
[Which is definitely something a man from the 1910s would be able to relate to, Dodger, good job.]
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They're supposed to have bullets, but... no, they didn't come with any. They've got some magic on them, makes them... set off suit flares. So they're not coming out anywhere near you.
[As much as he would love to pressure Alan into gunplay.]
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[He grimaces, and takes off the holster to set it down on the floor, just to make it completely clear Alan is safe.]
Still nice to have them back, though. I've pretty much got all of my earthly possessions here.
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Fuckin' 'ell. [ He sighs. ] I don't know whether to be grateful or not that they've never given me anything. Seems like they're all Trojan horses one way or another.
[ While he talks, he reaches up to touch the bite gingerly, thoughtlessly. It feels a little tacky with drying blood, and tender, but better than it did. ]
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[Just an unrelated case of glowing dick that started the moment he put on the necklace and ended a few days later... he never takes it off, so he truly never made the connection.
Dodger sighs softly, and gestures for Alan to move closer to him, in case he wants to take advantage of Dodger's heat.]
What would you want, if you got the chance?
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I'm not sure. I never went in for keepsakes much. Though, er--
A letter. I had a letter from someone who read my stories and liked them enough to get word to me. And I met him, in the end. But before I met him he was just -- a kind stranger. [ He laughs softly, wry. ] With particular taste in pornography.
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Don't know if I've ever seen a hand-written letter before.
[He has some more thoughts there - like the fact that Alan probably would be disgustingly wealthy in the modern era. But maybe he doesn't need to tell Alan about Chuck Tingle, especially since Dodger would prefer not to broadcast that he reads 'trashy' porn
unlike splatterpunk.]I've got some keepsakes I usually take with me when I move new places, but... I'm kind of glad they haven't shown up. Easier to tell myself they're not getting damaged if they're back home. Photos of my parents, things like that.
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[ Frankly this probably makes it all the more impressive that Dodger was able to read his drafts because you know Alan writes in cursive. Anyway. ]
During that last game, the happy families one -- were there pictures in your house of your family?
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[Dodger doesn't own a computer, is what he's saying, in his mind those are for nerds and old people. (And yet he can read and write cursive, because the homeschooling knowledge base is an incomprehensible web of random holes.)
That question makes him pause, though, and his face turns red.]
I- yeah. A couple. Mostly my brother's family but there was some- a few, of my mom. Some people got to keep theirs but.. I didn't play the game well enough, so I didn't.
[He still took photos of them on his Watch, because he knew he wouldn't get to keep them. But they're intensely private.]
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I didn't, either. But they felt so fake, anyway. We never could have afforded photographs like that.
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[His gaze flickers down to the hand on his thigh, but he's slowly starting to get more used to gestures like this. So there isn't confusion on his face, just self-consciousness. He still doesn't like being the kind of person that people need to check in on constantly.]
Henry got some too, and he's... from too far in the past to have photos. So he got to see his parents again, not sure he cared that they were fake.
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How was all that bollocks for you, anyway? [ The corner of his mouth tugs up. ] Did you get to enjoy wedded bliss with anyone?
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[He could talk about the frustration of cohabitating with Toma, or the constant migraines, or having other people see his private photos, or reality-shifting while riding his motorcycle at 30 miles an hour... but he has the good sense to realize that would all probably bring the mood right back down, even if he does sort of want to vent.
Happy thoughts.]
Got to be married to Henry for a while. And... explain all sorts of things to him, sort of paying me back for him having to explain things to me in November. Got to meet his dog, too.
[Although maybe it's clear from his tone of voice that he doesn't actually have a high opinion of Henry's dog.]
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