1264 - It's been awhile

[breakupsbadly]

HUG MEME

- Put up a thread with your character, fandom, and any prefs (if applicable) and wait for someone to tag in with hugs!  
- Go to other threads, either pick the number you want or go to random.org and let the RNG choose for you.

1. Friendly hug - this person is your good pal, and you just wanna give them a fond squeeze to let them know.

2.

Comments

Rhys | Supernatural (OC) | OTA

[sleight_of_fate]

[Very huggable.]

6

[angelcaretaker]

[As huggable as he may be, Meg really doesn't want to. She will avoid it as long as possible. Until, of course, there's an awkward silence, in which case she has to hug him. But, she won't enjoy any seconds of it, not even a half a second.]

lol. Fits!

[sleight_of_fate]

And the minute she touches him and his own not-quite-human instincts kick in, he's not exactly enjoying it either, but he pastes on a cheerful smile anyway and resists the urge to wipe his hands on his cargo pants afterward. Rhys knows the business, even if he's not an official hunter: his anti-possession seal is low on the back of his neck where his shirt collar doesn't quite cover it completely. With all the other tattoos, though, some arcane and some not, it just blends right in to the un-initiated. "So. Um..."

i thought so. lol

[angelcaretaker]

"Let's just pretend that didn't happen," Meg says, her own expression far from amused. What was she supposed to say, anyway? Thanks is a little overused, and if she spent less time around Castiel, stupid angel, she mouth have defaulted to a sarcastic comment and maybe a favor in return, not some hug. Ew.

[sleight_of_fate]

"Never happened," he agrees, defaulting to polite but with raised eyebrows. "And for no reason whatsoever." He nods, mostly to himself. Cute, yes. Vaguely terrifying, also yes. So that whatever he did to deserve that, he can never, ever do it again.

[angelcaretaker]

"Yeah. Thanks for the help," she adds snidely, pressing her lips together. How about that. Nothing says grateful like an irate looking demon. Meg wipes off her shoulders, crossing her arms over her chest. "We'll just leave it at that."

[sleight_of_fate]

"Be still my heart." Okay, so he can't resist at least the tiniest bit of snark, though he puts a lid on it quick because he likes his heart where it is, which is to say, still beating in his chest, where it does him the most good. Serious again after a second, Rhys flips his ponytail back and takes a step away, ritual knife and hex-bag at his belt rattling lightly as he smirks. Those, Doc Marten workboots, a battered canvas coat and a Machines of Loving Grace t-shirt (the irony, it burns) comprise his working gear. "I'd say call me again sometime, sweetheart, but frankly? The guys you play with, they play kinda rough."

[angelcaretaker]

It's not every day she hugs a human, let alone a helpful one. In fact, usually, those are the ones she bothers until they hate her. Meg finds the affection putting a sour taste in her mouth, and now she wholeheartedly regrets it. If, of course, she can actually put a finger on that gross feeling.

"Trust me, we'll keep this low profile. I don't want a repeat of these shenanigans," she responds, stepping back as if he were a diseased rat.

[sleight_of_fate]

"Believe me, that makes two of us. I kinda like playing human band-aid better than, well, y'know. Having people try to arrange my inside parts on the outside." This would be a lot easier if he had a car so he didn't have to hitch-hike out of here. Nothing really puts a damper on a flashy exit like having to take the bus or walk. Shit, Miss Manners never covered this. He was gonna have to boost one, probably.

Still, for what she is, Meg doesn't terrible, and that's kind of high praise, enough that the thought makes the corner of his mouth quirk slightly in a weird half-smile that probably looks rather like indigestion.

[angelcaretaker]

"As good as you'd look with your entrails as a scarf, I'm not that kind of girl. That's only after the third date." She gives way to a crooked smirk, in the aspect that one corner of her mouth is higher than the other rather than honestly thinking about leaving him with a new and yet used accessory.

Alas, she really isn't that bad. Spending a couple long weeks with a fallen angel changes a few things, but she does have her moments. Right now, though, she is somewhat wondering what's the matter with his face. "I'll keep you in mind in case I'm looking for that kind of thrill early, though."

[sleight_of_fate]

"So, what, only go on two dates and I'm safe? Good to keep in mind. Y'know. Just in case you ever decide you need to practice that thing we aren't talking about. We could go out for margaritas sometime." The half-whatever-the-hell-is-wrong-with-his-face turns into an actual smirk. Flirting with danger, literally. Go figure.

[angelcaretaker]

Well, well. Meg laughs to herself, uncrossing her arms carefully. This is a game she can play, and it certainly beats being awkward and confused. "Pity. I'm not a fan of margaritas. A couple of doubles and I might've said yes."

[sleight_of_fate]

"Maybe just as well then." He peers down at her. He's not that tall, though over average at five-ten or so, but tall enough, and grins. "By the sound of it, you'd be drinking me under the table. Shame, though. Used to tend bar at this little place north of the border, I mix a pretty mean one." He pauses, gives her a quirk of a smile under dark blue eyes. "Of course, you'd probably stab me with the little umbrella, too."

[angelcaretaker]

Meg looks honestly pleased at the idea of a little umbrella in her drink, or perhaps stabbing someone with it. Regardless, she smiles up at him, resting a hand on her hip. "You'd be brave enough to give me a little umbrella? I'm impressed." More than impressed, actually, intrigued. "Now what kind of quasihunter would put that much trust in a demon?"

[sleight_of_fate]

"One whose self-preservation instincts might not have caught up with his curiosity just yet." Now he's definitely smirking, and unconsciously, or maybe they just have more in common than they realize, his body posture isn't too far off a mirror of hers. "And one who's having his margarita with a salt rim instead of sugar. Holy water in the crushed ice, maybe. Anyway, I didn't say I had to trust you to have a drink with you, now did I? And the umbrella's still negotiable."

He kinda likes that, honestly: quasi-hunter. It's not inaccurate. He's half-blind in his left eye due to being hexed a few years back, and he's in good shape but not fantastic, not a big, rough ex-mil or cop or anything, which means he's smart enough to just use a shotgun that doesn't require much aim and stay on the back lines. So, yes, quasi-hunter definitely fits.

[angelcaretaker]

She snorts a laugh. Maybe no one has to actually be trusting. Drinking with someone untrustworthy could always end sourly. Still, he may be right. Self-preservation doesn't always clue in with curiosity until later, perhaps much later. Along with that, how many demons actually give out hugs and let them free? Maybe she's just going soft.

"Well, well, at least there's a backup plan for your poorly planned drink offer. You might just stand a chance." Meg doesn't particularly plan on taking him up on the offer, but the banter surely has her interested in something. Perhaps some form of pretend friendship based off of debasement and uncoordinated flirtations would be fun.