Locked in a Room

[dishevelment]

Who: Everyone stuck in Pride HQ
What: This load of crap.
When: Nov. 1-5
Where Pride HQ
Warnings: Pg-13 minimum because Carnies. Tag if it gets over that.


Everyone got the same call-- and now we're all stuck in HQ with no hint of release in sight.

The reason? No one knows.

How are you coping?

Comments

[traumatizing]

Assuming you tell him what you're doing.

[notahobby]

I don't have to. He just knows shit.

[He says with the long-suffering tone of a kid who spent two months on a bus with this man and couldn't get away with anything.]

[traumatizing]

[Terry smirks.] That's the fun though, right?

[notahobby]

Is it?

[He does not sound convinced.]

[traumatizing]

Sneaking around the managers? Yeah.

[He raises his eyebrows like "duh," but then Page is probably significantly more lenient than Manny is too.]

[notahobby]

[Maxxie shakes his head, smiling.]

Come on. I don't want to think about Patil getting angry at me right now. It's killing my buzz.

[traumatizing]

Okay, I'm just saying. It might be the troughful of beer I've poured into myself tonight, but I'll help you out if you decide that's something you want to do.

[They're at the penthouse now! That sure was a short walk, artistic license does all sorts of things to the time-space continuum. He opens the door and holds it open for Maxxie.]

And now you know where I live.

[notahobby]

[Maxxie doesn't respond but he catalogs that promise away so he can take Terry up on it later. He smiles when he walks into the penthouse.]

Looks just like mine. Fewer pillow forts, though.

[He wanders around but doesn't stray too far - he doesn't know if Terry's band is home and he doesn't want it to seem like he's intruding.]

[traumatizing]

[He raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth like he wants to ask about the pillow forts, but maybe it's for the best he doesn't.]

[Putting that aside, he leads the way to his room; it's tidy aside from the disaster zone full of empty mugs, beer cans, and granola bar wrappers on his desk, and he gestures for Maxxie to sit wherever he wants. There's a few chairs around and the one at his desk, or there's his bed.]

You want anything while you're here?

[notahobby]

[Maxxie wanders around there, unabashedly taking in everything. He's got an innocent, curious look on his face.]

You got anything to drink?

[Eventually he settles down in one of the chairs, tucking one leg up under himself. He's still not sure what to expect, but he's enjoying his time with Terry.]

[traumatizing]

[THOUGHTFULLY SQUINTS] We should have some beer and some coke in the kitchen, or... [More squinting, this time at his desk, and he wanders over to it to pull a bottle from behind his monitor.] I have half a bottle of vodka left.

[notahobby]

[Maxxie gestures for the vodka.]

If you don't mind. Now let's hear some of this stuff you've been telling me about.

[traumatizing]

[He tosses the bottle to Maxxie and seats himself in the chair at his desk with his legs crossed, frowning a little as he looks at the filenames for what he's been working on most recently.]

It's kind of rough, but this is what I've been spending most of my time on this week.

[Have fun with this weird and distressing cacophony of noise, Maxxie.]

[notahobby]

[Maxxie's eyebrows draw together as he listens, taking periodic sips from the vodka bottle. He listens the whole way through, tilting his head and considering it. Once it's done he's silent for another moment, and then he speaks thoughtfully.]

Feels like it's got a lot of layers. Especially near the end.

[He snorts gently.]

It's weird, but it's cool, you know?

[traumatizing]

[Terry tilts his head, a bit like an animal not entirely sure what it's looking at, and then he smiles. Raising his eyebrows some like he doesn't entirely believe what Maxxie's saying.]

That's... Not the reaction I expected.

[Usually it's more like "this is horrible and it hurts"]

[notahobby]

[Maxxie raises an eyebrow, one of his dimples deepening with a wry smirk. It's a bit challenging, but he's clearly having a bit of fun.]

What, you think just 'cause I make pop songs I can't appreciate experimental music?

[traumatizing]

[He snorts and scratches his head, almost ready to apologise until he reads the look on Maxxie's face.]

I pretty much assume everyone hates it until I see otherwise.

[notahobby]

People who hate shit they don't understand are boring.

[He takes an especially long gulp of vodka (how does he do it? we just don't know) and then puts it down, getting up and wandering over to the bed where he throws himself down. He doesn't have much respect for people's private spaces - a bed's a bed, and the vodka's making the idea of being horizontal more and more attractive.]

You got anything else? You said that was what you've just been working on this week, right?

[traumatizing]

Yeah, uh... [He scrolls down the list of filenames, and settles on something a little less oppressive to listen to.] Let's try something a bit more tuneful.

[Ugh, the vodka is so far away. Terry hits play and gets up to retrieve the bottle, coming back to sit on the bed next to Maxxie.]

[notahobby]

[Maxxie shuffles up the bed to prop himself up on the headboard so he can steal some more vodka as he listens. His brows draw together again, but he's smiling. He waits until it's over to comment again, grinning up at Terry with a touch of excitement in his eyes.]

That one I really like.

[traumatizing]

[He steals the bottle back and looks at Maxxie, a little unsure of what to do with his enthusiasm. It's appreciated, but also makes Terry feel weirdly embarrassed. Like it's not good enough to warrant the positivity, but he knows it's good.]

Shame I never found a use for it.

[notahobby]

[Maxxie shrugs one shoulder lazily, turning onto his side to face Terry.]

Maybe it'll fit into something eventually.

[traumatizing]

[He huffs a small laugh, looking down at his lap bashfully.]

You wouldn't believe how much stuff I have around that might "fit into something eventually".

[notahobby]

That just means you're making stuff.

[He looks around the room, fighting off the vodka telling him to close his eyes.]

It's cool.

[traumatizing]

Yeah? [Terry raises an eyebrow and leans back against the headboard.] I think it makes me a step away from being the crazy guy in the creepy house on a hill who plays the organ during storms.

[He has thought long and hard about this, and come to accept it.]