golisolation | 💀 MoM IC INBOX 💀

[maybe it's a good thing 'getting all nurse' on someone doesn't hold the same implications in her head as they must in his, because she doesn't really bat an eyelash at it. besides, her attention's more on the prospect of getting him out of here.]

Very well. Let's get you out of here.

[her arm slips back around his waist, hesitating only for a sign of protest.]

—Oh, one sec.

[He takes a second, because it's clear he looks a little strained before and while he does this, but he calls out:]

Yo! Golisopod, c'mere!

[His voice cracks a little under the strain of it, and Guzma hopes she doesn't notice the wince. After a moment or two, Golisopod comes lumbering their way...blood on his claws.

Somebody's been busy with punching Zombies...]

We headin' back, return to your ball for me, yeah?

[After all, Golisopod can do that on his own. And he does! But not before giving Lucina a cheerful guuul!! as greeting. But then in a red flash, he zips back to his ball. Now Guzma loops his arm around Lucina as well, adhering himself to her again.

He knows he's gonna probably regret this, but then again walking back isn't much better, and he knows he can't drive right now. Which really says something, because Guzma's hardly a responsible driver...]

A'ight we good.

[the sight of the Pokemon's claws dripping with blood is... well, it's not a good one, that's for sure. Lucina spares a small, pained smile his way before he vanishes into the ball, letting out a soft sigh that's cut short with Guzma gluing to her once more. with a quiet, affirmative sound, she adjusts her hold and carries him up, away from the ruined base and toward the house. her pace is slow as it was that fateful day she'd conveyed him from Helix, and maybe a little less for fear of how the nip in the air will affect him.]

...You know, if your muscles are all achy and tensed up, I could help with that.

[the suggestion comes after reaching their destination and getting keyed inside, herself peeled free of him so she can take off her shoes and jacket.]

I'm told I'm very good at finding knots and kneading them out, that is.

[Like an idiot, Guzma's surprised at her offer, because here he thought he was doing a good job of covering up how tense and sore he is...but in reality, he's been moving so gingerly and slowly, it'd be hard for someone to not notice. He's likewise in the middle of taking off that bandana, his shoes, and his jacket, but he stops during the latter of which to look at her.

It takes but a second for him to decide, a pointed and painful throb pulses through his body, as if to help push the decision in the event he'd reconsider it for some fool reason.]

Y'know, that don't sound bad. It's stupid how tense I've been since that whole shit's gone down.

[It's...really not stupid at all, considering envenoming aside, what they all went through was pretty damn traumatic. Many times a day does Guzma think about that day, now that his mind is more clear, and too often does Lucina's battered form overtake his mind's eye. The way she looked at him, reached for him...

Having broken his gaze on her, he looks a little mentally distance as he hangs his hoodie on one of the hooks on the wall near the door. It's an awkward sort of transition of engaging her, and then blanking out like that, and he doesn't even seem to be aware...]

[her touch might cut through that without realizing it; she nudges him along once he’s got his jacket hung up, over to plop down on the couch. the prospect of being able to do him some real good beyond being a ferry of sorts lifts her spirits.]

Here, sit on the edge here! Let me...scoot back...here... [she climbs onto the cushion behind him, keeping herself propped up and balanced by hanging onto his shoulders.]

All you have to do is sit still and relax! Sounds good, right?

[It does indeed, though instead of a shock like a splash of cool water, it's more of a warm nudge back into reality. It's a couple dazed blinks as he finds himself being dragged over to the couch, and following her instructions. Sitting on the edge, as she clambers behind him, using his shoulders for balance.

He glances back at her, but then smirks.]

Heh, work your magic, yo.

[He really could use some right now... even his shoulders feel almost rock hard with tension, guess it's a good thing she's got super strength, maybe??]

Oh, it’s not magic! But I did learn a thing or two from my Aunt Lissa— she was a cleric. They know all kinds of ways to heal...

[once he’s sat and situated, Lucina takes stock, growing more pleased by the moment. this isn’t something she’d categorize as normal, but...it’s still good. certainly better than the sad state of him in the hospital. and to think! she can help more...!

with a thoughtful hum, she guides her palms along his tensed-up shoulder blades, hesitating for a beat as she’s briefly taken with a fluttering feeling. finding herself again, she gives a certain sound and, gliding her thumb over a noticeable knot, just..

pushes.

with way more force than necessary.]

[He doesn't even try to correct her, the way she jumps to converse about her aunt is pretty cute, and why would he interrupt that? In a way, it's relaxing and it gives him something to focus on other than how tense and sore he feels.

He lets out a breath, slow and relaxed, as his eyes slide closed at the sensation of her finding that knot. Anticipating relief as she begins to press and--]

Edited (phone wtf dont autocorrect shit) 2019-10-20 21:39 (UTC)

--GEHH!!

[Guzma immediately jerks forward at the force--or maybe that's the force that's doing it? Either way, he's jolting forward and seems to be SOMEWHAT TRYING TO GET AWAY FROM THOSE HANDS...

At the very least, he's bracing the coffee table with both hands to keep himself stable, because holy SHIT!!]

Fuck!! You tryin' t'kill me here?!

Ah-! Hey!!

[what the heck! is he THAT sensitive?!

tugging his collar to try and get him to sit back up.]

Of course not! You...you just must be too sensitive! I didn’t even press that hard. Come on, now...!

Sensi--your boy AIN'T sensitive!

[Fortunately since he wears muscle shirts, she's not strangling him when she grabs it and pulls him back. With great hesitancy he follows the tugging and sits up right again. With a wary glance over his shoulder at her, he...acquiesces against his better judgment.]

Just...go a li'l lighter, you don't know your own strength, yo...

Edited (I swear I know how to spell) 2019-10-20 21:51 (UTC)

[she tsks, steadying him with hands on his shoulders.]

I barely touched you, Guzma...I may as well massage you with a feather.

[she squeezes the muscle on his shoulder, testing some pressure.] Is this even too much?

[He grumbles under his breath, but as she presses, he winces a little bit, but...it's bearable.]

...Nah that's fine. That ain't so bad.

[Now that she's not going from 0 to 60 without warning...]

[right, good... she huffs a little sigh, relieved he’s not about to lose it again. with that heightened awareness to take it easy (okay, fine — maybe she does need to be more careful since she hadn’t tested a massage with super strength before...but not with that much drama!).

kneading little circles with her thumbs, she watches Guzma’s head bob a little and keeps eye for any other distress.

without the flinching, this is...quite nice, huh? his shoulders really are tense...and broad...luckily, any blushing she’s doing is safely out of view.

would this be considered a bit unseemly? even with their, ah...’arrangement’... she’s not sure, but it kind feels a bit like some bit of a thrill. maybe it shouldn’t, and she’s just strange.]

[It takes a good few moments for him to fully settle into her massaging. He's still extremely sore, and his muscles ache from exertion and toxin both, but he starts to feel some relief...which is made evident as he relaxes under her hands, and there's small grunts and satisfied hums as she works his shoulders. His head hangs forward a bit as he closes his eyes, fully relaxing into those motions.

She's not alone in enjoying this for more than merely its purpose. There's something...not quite thrilling, but certainly satisfying about having her hands on him like this. Feeling her grip him so firmly, running her fingers over his skin...

Unlike her, he doesn't feel any shame for his enjoyment, but that's the nature of the difference in their experience and perceptions. This is nothing if not perfectly normal for him, but what an alien experience for her.]

...Mmm that feels real nice, Lu.

D-does it-?

[the tone of his voice kind of takes her by surprise, her heart fluttering.] I’m glad...

[truly. after having been on a punishing end of that brutal day, it does her well to be able to sow some goodness. even if it is a bit selfish...

after some time, her hands glide up so her arms can wrap around his neck, lowering her head to rest against the back of his neck.

she’s so grateful he’s survived. that no one died. that she didn’t lose yet another chance to be honest to someone, yet even having that opportunity is daunting. it’s risky to speak her heart, even in quiet moments.

maybe if she just...sits still here. maybe, somehow, he can sense that just by her willing it to him. maybe that’s enough.]

Mhm...

[It's more of a rumble from him, than the normal hum of an answer. If anything, it helps express how much he is indeed enjoying this. When she stops, there's a small surprised grunt from him, but it dies quickly when he feels her arms wrap around his neck, and her head against the back of his.

Slowly, he brings his hands up to rest on her forearms, loosely holding them as he melts into the hold. She's incredibly warm against him, what with him still being pretty clammy...poor fortune for her, but it is what it is.

Ultimately, this moment of intimacy is a balm to his soul after everything.]

[there’s consolation for the both of them in that stretched-out length of shared quiet, where a fear of inaction is held at bay by the hold on her arms.

she can’t sit on her knees forever, and after a length she can feel her legs starting to fall asleep, so she sits up, murmuring her intention to move so as not to take him unawares. with a quiet here and some other instruction, she shifts so she can slip alongside him, her arms sliding around his middle, as if keeping clung to him was her job.]

[While he's enjoyed the weight of her on his back, he can hardly blame her for needing to adjust. He's glad, however, that she stays clinging to him, her arms around him as if she were to let go, she'd lose him.

Shifting, he puts his own arm around her, holding her as well, a measurable possessive pressure to it. Or, maybe that's just the weight of his arm and a little bit of his body as he finds himself somewhat slumping against her.

His body is pretty spent after all of this, but he had been at the factory for...quite a while digging through the ruins and inspecting this and that. Moving some of the rubble while he was at it...]

Edited (I'm straight up gonna throw myself into hell for my phone tag typos) 2019-10-20 23:19 (UTC)

[it feels nice to be tightly held...and more, to be allowed to hold on. it’s easier than speaking, even if it lacks the clarity of words backing it. some things are clear enough. she’s content to let the moment carry on and on...but it can’t last forever.

eventually, she gently pats his side where her hand had lingered.]

You ought to clean up. Change. You’ll feel better.

[and not smell like a rotted fire pit.]

[She's right, and he knows she's right, but all he wants to do is just sit there with her. Even if it feels odd to be so affectionately needy like this, but who can honestly blame him.]

...Yeah. I'm sure after bein' in the factory for as long as I was, I ain't smellin' too great.

[His senses might have adapted to the smell, but he's sure hers hasn't, not with how briefly she was there. With a parting squeeze, he stands up--slowly and gingerly. Placing his hands on his thighs to help himself rise to his full height, and not without a grunt.

He must look and sound like an old man, but there's no helping that right now.]

If y'wanna kick it here, you can. But I get it if you got more important shit to do.

[He's not saying it to sound shitty or self-deprecating, more so he's just aware she's a busy lady and...well, there's fucking zombies and ultra beasts still.]

I'll stick around for a bit.

[she sits up a bit straighter at that, smoothing her skirt out as she nods.] What little work I have to touch tonight...I can do so from here. It won't be a problem.

[and in any case, she's not ready to leave. she'd worry, leaving...and wonder if she'd missed some sign of danger in him she wasn't looking for.

while fiddling with the buckle of Falchion's shoulder-belt:] So, don't worry! I'll be here.

[There's a soft edge to his features when she says she'll hang around. It's a comfort, one he wasn't fully aware he needed, and yet here they are.]

Make yourself at home. There's—[Oh god, is there even anything in his fridge? When was he last here...?]—something in there, probably. There's beer, at least.

[Not that she's probably had that before, but he offers it all the same. With that, though, he starts up the stairs and...immediately missteps and nearly falls down them. He fortunately catches the handrail, while his other hand catches a step with a stuttered sound of surprise and a muttered curse.

IT'S FINE, HE'S FINE!! If anything, it's merely his pride that's damaged here...]

[OH.................................OKAY..............

Lucina startles at the misstep, hopping up briefly as she gawks over at him, red-faced on his behalf. she considers going over to help but...that might...be the opposite of helping...and instead sits down and pretends she didn't see that, though her red face and ears give that away plainly, so she looks pointedly elsewhere while she hears him creep up the remaining stairs. poor man...were it her, she'd be mortified, and not want anyone to speak of it, honestly. so she won't!

instead, she'll busy herself with setting Falchion up securely against the wall nearest her and settling back down to go through her Aegis-related notes and mails. with Jacob gone again, it's been a lot of scrambling to keep the back-end stuff right...and herself, trying to train herself to keep a good face up front.

she doesn't have that great an expression when next he appears, herself slumped back in the cushions with one foot resting idly on the edge of the coffee table, her mouth screwed up in a displeased pucker as she thumbs through her phone. it's a look she blinks out of as she sits up, rubbing one of her eyes.]

Aa, better? I hope? At least, hot water would've helped all that extra tension...

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