#kc_necropolis

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Well. Yeah, he mutters. I can't grow shit.

"Okay, man. If I show you, you gotta....look, man, I said I'd keep quiet about what goes on here, right?" He is headed for the Cultist area, casting nervous looks to the windows*

Yeah. An' if I didn't think you would, you wouldn't be staying here. Jarrod doesn't... trust anyone. C'ept this Kevin dude he goes on about.

"Okay, yeah. But, thing is...shit, if I tell you, man, you got to do the same thing, okay? And maybe help me out a little?"

What... sorta help you need? He frowns. You in trouble?

He reaches the cuttings, and squats near them, after giving another anxious look around* "I will be, man, if this gets out, probably. And, like, Jarrod's getting too close, man. This Joel dude, he keeps...hinting."

"If this gets out, Rain-girl or not, I gotta leave."

His blue eyes are unhappy, turning his way* "Not cool that this guy gets to know, and you don't, I guess, man. But, like, maybe you can run interference? Kind of, draw the heat off?" *Wow, this must be some secret to how to grow plants, to require such secrecy

He looks back to the cuttings, draping his arms over his thighs*

He frowns at that. If you're a vampire, man... I don't think I'd be able to. But outside of that... yeah.

That causes him to break into a grin, lightening his mood momentarily* "Nah, man. But, like, try not to run screaming, okay? I don't do this shit lightly, and, like...." The grin becomes uncertain* "Kind of worried about fucking up your head."

"Can't tell Rain-girl."

I've seen the building of the Empire State Building and the San Francisco Earthquake. I don't think y'could do anything to blow my mind. He muses. I'll... keep as calm as I can. And more importantly, quiet.

He reaches for his blunt, his own hands not quite steady. Apparently Luke isn't as blase about it as he's letting on* "Okay, man. Let's do this. Remember what you said out by the lake? You knew something was up, but like....didn't know what?"

His voice calm, low, steady, despite his obvious nerves. He is pulling out his lighter*

Yeah. Thought you were like... hiding as a sorcerer. An' you should know, I don't give two shits if y'are. Or a psychic. We're just... different sides of the same whole, man.

"Yeah, that's what everyone says, until they get a look at Satan, or whatever." He lights the blunt, and brings it to his lips. If Nick is aware, he might sense a subtle shift of energy, before he offers it over* "Take a hit. It's just weed, man."

"And a little something extra I gave Rain-girl at the Rave, that kicked this whole shit off, I think, man."

You... seriously can't be that scary. He reaches for the joint, with an eyebrow raised.

"I promise nothing." As he lets go of it, and waits on the grass, his arms still resting over his thighs. He's in a green tee shirt, with a silk-screened sea turtle on it, baggy jeans*

*It's damp and overcast, cool; the rain has been coming and going, leaving the grass and plants wet; it smells of spring*

The pale blue eyes fixed on him worriedly*

He takes a slow drag, looking back up at the other man. It's fine. If I find out. And I can't handle it. I'll take it out of my mind. Okay?

"Okay, man. Cool." The weed is familiar to Nick; the same relaxing indica cross that gives him a relaxing couch-lock high. He blows out the smoke, as usual. And as it clears, carried on the breeze -- the worried blue eyes remain the same. But above them, where he so often scratches around his dreads. Well, a twisting pair of tan horns. If he looks down, he'll notice -- well, Luke is not wearing pants. Not that it matters; he still can't see much through the shaggy dark blonde fur that his arms are now resting over. Bare feet are now tan cloven hooves, dug into the lawn*

He is watching Nick's face closely, anxiously*

He doesn't get up, remaining squatting on his haunches -- although his knees no longer look quite the same; they bend backwards. Goat's legs? A dog's? ...he sees him make the same gesture he did at the ruins of the burnt-out apartments. His hands lifting, palm-out, showing empty. A non-threatening gesture*

"Yeah, man. I can see it on your face already."

No, I'm not... I'm not scared. Just... a little... what?

His voice is the same, but there is a silken quality to it; he's trying to soothe. His scent has changed; the faint musk Luke wears, mistaken for a fragrance, can now be identified as the animal scent of fur* "Freaked out?"

An uncertain grin. His face remains the same; there is that*

Little. Yeah. I don't... not. Know things. A lot. Usually I see what's coming from like... a mile away. He slowly steps forward, his eyes flicking up to the horns. Those are real.

He lowers head* "Yeah. Go ahead, you can touch, man. Just don't go yanking on them like you're jacking off to porn, and we'll be fine."

He keeps his head lowered, not watching him*

He snorts. Please, no one actually YANKS when jerking off to porn. Stroking. So more like what I do. He does reach forward, to run his fingers over the ridges. Shit, man. That's awesome.

A breath out, a laugh. A relieved sound* "Yeah?"

Yeah. It's like... Pan. Like from the etchings.

"You got it, man. One of his."

"Got it on one."

What? He blinks. Shit. Wait. You're like... seriously?

Now his head DOES lift, and he is watching up from under lifted brows* "Dude, you're standing here stroking my horns, and you find THAT hard to believe?"

A beginning grin*

"And no, man, I've seen the etchings, too, and I've never fucked a goat. So don't ask."

I was SO not gonna ask that, he says with a grin. Mostly... fuck. Why are you hiding who you really are?

*His grin fades "Why do you think, man?"

"Could ask you the same thing, you know?"

Yeah, he says almost sadly. People are shitty sometimes. But... fuck. I can only see. Cuz of the joint. What happens when I sober up?