gurabad | 062 » darling i'll be all you need

[She promised to be your dick pic supplier so here, please enjoy a few carefully curated selections of the highest quality, forwarded with a very simple note:]

What do you think? I'm not entirely sure I'm impressed.

Edited (tries to do plurk formatting in a tag OMG...) 2019-07-15 23:47 (UTC)

[internal screaming —

he opens up only one image before he blanches, realizes that this is a continuation of a previous conversation, and... uh, fires back:]

Luna?!
Can't you warn a man before sending something like this?!

You sounded like you were interested in seeing more! And since I don't want these, what else do you expect me to do with them?

[Look she is just trying to be a bro here! Share the love and all that.]

They're of even less value to me! It's not as though they're hard on MY behalf!

[honestly, how is one to share the love when the love is meant for one woman and one woman only?! ...though he does go scrolling through the photos, being that he has the time and privace...]

...That being said, this second man here has... quite the length. Not an Elezen, perchance?

[Give her a moment to check on this pls.]

No, a Highlander. I must say I'm impressed, though. I too would have guessed Elezen without any... outside information.

[A beat.]

You Elezen really are lucky if that sort of thing is your average...

Well, we have the necks to accommodate...

[francel, you're gonna get in trouble with your church group for that.]

To accommodate...?

[Give her a second here.]

... oh. Ohhhh, I see. Yes, I suppose that would make things easier, wouldn't it?

Edited 2019-07-16 00:20 (UTC)

[he is an idiot who doesn't quite know how to indicate laughter over text, so instead of emojis, he will send:]

(●´艸｀) ★

I've actually never had cause to know this for myself, but truth be told, I'd imagine our, er, other parts are similarly... designed to fit, so to speak.

That being said, length isn't everything, is it? I think most Elezen men are quite long, but then there is the girth to consider... I have heard that Hyuran men are thicker, on average...

[... Francel what even is that supposed to be. She has to stare at it for a moment and resist the urge to laugh.]

You'd be absolutely right! Yet it's amazing how many men are under the impression that longer is better... that's all well and good, but how is it better if it doesn't fit?

[This probably falls into the category of 'TMI,' but then in retrospect so does this entire conversation.]

[it's already much too late for the both of them, and now that francel's gotten started, he... can't exactly stop. there are reasons that he and haurchefant are such good friends, after all.]

Just so, Luna, just so. Honestly, I do wonder how the Au Ra manage. Their women are so small, and the men so large...

[if she could only see him and the devilish grin he's wearing now...]

Seeing as we're well in sinner's paradise, what say you to a game of speculation? Hmm... between Sers Aymeric and Estinien, whose is larger?

Oh, you'd be surprised. Nature has a way, after all.

[Honestly, the grin on her own face probably isn't any better.]

Hmm... Estinien, but you can't expect me to believe that he knows how to use it, which renders the entire question moot.

[Sorry big bro. She loves you really, she's just fairly certain you suck in bed.]

Edited 2019-07-16 00:59 (UTC)

Ah, well-reasoned! I, too, believe he only knows how to handle one spear — and that spear is surely not the one twixt his legs.

Who would make another good comparison...? Er, well, far be it for me to make jest of mine own brother, but let us say I value your opinion. Artoirel and Stephanivien? Heirs to the High Houses, and all that.

So you choose to make jest of mine as well, is that it?

[What even is this conversation, she doesn't know anymore.]

Of course I'm going to have to say Stephanivien, if only because I don't wish to think too hard about this topic in regards to my brother.

[er, being that francel was not... present for this particular conversation...]

...I'm sorry?

When did Artoirel become your brother?

Ah...

He... asked, I suppose you could say, if that is a thing that one can ask. It may sound strange, but...

A-As long as you've not married into House Fortemps without my foreknowledge, I do suppose I understand!

[...and means he should probably keep his considerable crush on artoirel to himself for the time being. oops.]

Ah, now time for the truly accursed question: myself or Haurchefant?

NO.

[Oh my god Francel you can't just ask her to think about your dick like that!]

((*´∀`))

[he knows exactly how cursed that was.]

Apologies, my lady. I shan't press the issue. Perhaps I should have stuck to naming attractive men?

[She is absolutely going to smack him the next time they're in the same room.]

You know full well that I am biased in that regard.

[Also that Hyur aren't to his taste, which tbh she's okay with.]

True. Most people would choose Haurchefant, besides.

[suddenly this isn't quite so fun anymore, and he wishes they were back to talking of other lewd and ridiculous things.]

It is what it is, I suppose.

What?

You thought...?

[Oh goodness.]

Heavens, no! Haurchefant is attractive, certainly, but I was referring to Thancred!

[~~You know, that guy who punched Emmanellain in the face...~~]

Thancred?

[there's an unwritten really? after that, to be sure...]

Are you and he involved? Goodness, I would not have asked you to play at this if I had not thought you were unattached...

Edited 2019-07-17 20:45 (UTC)

[ After a morning of meetings and calls and emails, even Zephirin — a workaholic in the eyes of his colleagues — gives in to the occasional covert glance at his watch, anticipating a brief breather over the lunch break, some peace and quiet, though it's debatable whether he'll make it out of his cubicle at all. The network is down building-wide, so the entire office discovered half an hour ago, and the IT staff, inundated with faults logged and service requests made, have put him on hold. Others in the same boat pass the time commiserating with one another, their complaints a steady thrum of background noise.

In front of Zephirin, the all-in-one machine's error lights flash red; the touchscreen displays its out of order message. A backlog of printing and a paper jam seem a volatile mix.

"It's Friday!" one irate voice grouses above the rest. "At this rate, we're not getting the weekend off!"

As the mellow tune playing over the line pauses for a recorded reminder — "Thank you for waiting. We'll be with you as soon as we can." — Zephirin cuts off the call, deciding to focus his efforts elsewhere: mitigating the chaos within the department on Thordan's behalf. He leaves the paper jam alone for the time being, and makes his way from cubicle to cubicle, advising the team to finish what they can, to take a break, until the commotion settles.

Back at his own desk, the too-bright lamp overhead flickers intermittently. Zephirin lets his eyes close, only for a moment, head bowed. Gripping the desk's edge, he braces himself against it. ]

[with his eyes closed, zephirin might not notice the young elezen man walking past his desk toward the all-in-one machine. he might, however, hear the steady beep beep beep of someone inputting commands into the copier-scanner-printer; he might, too, hear someone open its paper tray, calmly slide out the offending parts. click, clack, slap, BANG. the paper jam is cleared in a moment, and the open cover is soon closed.

but the printer doesn't immediately start up, as someone has placed a hold on the machine's job list and is approving them individually — a task that is necessary because people have submitted duplicate, even quadruplicate requests. beep, followed by the sounds of whirring, printing. beep, followed by the sounds of more whirring, more printing. each completed job is paper-clipped and sorted into the much-unused paper rack for individuals to pick up their requests.

beep. whirr and print. the final request was zephirin's, and perhaps this is the reason that francel — a coworker from another department — passes by his desk with his requested documents in hand.]

Excuse me... Zephirin, right? These are yours.

[ The sounds don't register at first, not beyond discordant blips of activity taking place outside the walls of Zephirin's cubicle, grating to his ears. Slowly then, as Zephirin blinks his eyes open, straightening his spine and squaring his shoulders, shaking his head ineffectually to ease the tension pinching the back of his neck, he matches those sounds to their meaning: the printer is running again. Soon enough, the jobs queued are done, and the machine goes quiet.

From here, it's a matter of sorting and collecting the documents printed out, but before Zephirin has taken more than a step away from his desk, he stops in his tracks, gaze dropping to the neat stack of forms and minutes held proffered for him to accept. Looking up, he masks his stubborn fatigue, mustering a small smile as he reaches for the sheets of paper. ]

Do we have you to thank for the printer as well?

[ He sifts through his memories for a name to go with the youthful face turned towards him — they may have crossed paths here and there, if not to work together on the same floor. ]

...Francel, I believe?

[ And a godssend to the department, no doubt, now that at least a portion of the day's tasks are closer to staying on schedule. ]

[francel seems mildly surprised that zephirin knows his name, but he nods, and not without a small, pleased smile of his own, as if zephirin has guessed at some sort of innocuous secret he is keeping. he tips his head to one side.]

The printer? Oh... n-no, I... I guess I just don't like to see it jammed? People send tickets to the support desk, but they always take forever to get there, and it's not that hard to fix the machine — you just need to take a little initiative and fuss with the UI...

[...he sounds almost as though he's fond of it.]

Then you did come to our rescue.

[ Zephirin's bland tone belies his earnest relief. They don't have time to stand around and chat, of course, not on the clock, and he imagines that Francel is no less aware of it than he is — still, though he places his documents on the desk, leafing through them to be certain that everything expected is there, he glances up again before long, over his shoulder.

His tone turns too solemn. ]

I appreciate it — not all of us manage to handle that machine with such ease.

I don't know that I'd call it ease... I just find it fun. They're actually really expensive, you know? And they're such sophisticated pieces of machinery!

[francel's face blooms with a sudden boyish delight, eyes sparkling as he conveys his excitement... about the perfectly ordinary printer-copier-scanner machine in their office.]

I used to work with one that was much older, but the copier we have in this office detects the document you're trying to scan no matter where you put it on the glass, and it auto-crops it for you with a really generously sized border. It automatically detects the size and weight of the paper you put in, too! I wish the printer I have at home could do that, but I have to manually put in all of that information before it'll even accept the right paper, and...

[suddenly, he stops short, his cheeks coloring subtly.]

...Oh, I'm so sorry. This is silly and boring.

[ Save tilting his head just slightly, Zephirin stays still, politely attentive as Francel sings the all-in-one machine's praises. The young man seems caught up in his enthusiasm, unabashed, until he remembers himself, and that alone makes his gushing over sophisticated pieces of machinery and their features neither silly nor boring. On the contrary — Zephirin finds that he wouldn't object to continuing the conversation, an unexpected change from the usual.

The only problem is that they should both get back to work, loath though he may be to shoo Francel away to his desk so abruptly. ]

Not at all. [ The reply comes without hesitation, and with a firm shake of Zephirin's head. ] I confess, I hadn't thought to compare our machine with other models... Perhaps, if you don't have plans of your own, you'll tell me more over lunch?

O-Oh? Lunch?

[francel's voice escapes him in a squeak — his posture stiffens so suddenly that one might easily imagine, if he were a miqo'te or au ra, that his tail would be stick-straight too. he understands well enough that zephirin is only asking whether they might take lunch together, but francel is so surprised that he can't quite manage a straightforward yes or a smooth of course. instead, he stumbles over:]

What time is lunch?

[ Francel sounds and looks so startled that it raises a few questions. Taking the young man's response in stride, where someone else might have answered whenever it's scheduled or the same time as always, Zephirin pulls up his sleeve by an ilm, baring his wrist for Francel to see his watch. Normally, the company's employees take their break staggered between 12:30 and 1:30. ]

Soon, with any luck. Do you prefer your desk?

I, ah... I usually just don't eat.

[...which means that he must skip lunch and then somehow lasts himself until the end of the day, and raises even more questions, but at least he doesn't seem too broken up about it. in fact, he smiles brightly at zephirin, even as he starts down the hallway to make his way back to his own cubicle.]

But I'll eat with you if you want me to! Let's meet up at my desk. It's quieter there... A-And I can pay for it, too!

[paying for zephirin's meal might be a step above what's necessary...]

[ One must wonder how Francel makes it through the day, and some would berate him for the impact on his productivity, on his metabolism, his health entirely — and so forth. As a department supervisor, if not directly in charge of Francel's team, Zephirin could attempt to instruct him to remember his allocated breaks, whether Francel chooses to skip lunch for a reason or simply forgets to eat.

Francel's habits haven't taken any discernible toll on him, however, and ordinarily, Zephirin isn't overly fond of setting his work aside for a full meal himself. He watches Francel turn away, nods his assent despite his coworker's excessive display of generosity. ]

I'll look forward to it.

[ He means it, he finds.

Forty-five minutes later, with the network mercifully back up, and the morning's paperwork signed and scanned and sent, Zephirin approaches the entrance of Francel's cluttered cubicle. One hand raised in greeting, he stops just outside the cubicle's thin walls. ]

Edited 2019-10-05 22:23 (UTC)

062 » darling i'll be all you need

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