[ Ah yes, this is the most innocent tone anyone has ever heard. So mild, so innocuous, certainly could not be making an innuendo.
Not that it'd get him very far with all this gross exposed fillet on his shoulder.
Ian has the good sense, at least, to dip down and tug his shoes and socks off. The only thing worse than an alien fucking apocalypse is walking around in wet socks and shoes. Pants get rolled up to the knee, and then he steps down into the water with her. ]
[ a smirk crosses her face before she tries to school her expression into disinterested neutrality. she is not a spy, it doesn't super work. ]
Keep it in your pants.
[ her hands have to stretch almost straight up to reach his shoulder, but after a second her cold finger touch his skin again and the blue light flares in her chest. water slips across her bare skin and under her clothes like ribbons until it pools under her hands, warm and soothing. ian's wound stitches together under her touch, pain dissipating almost immediately. it is, however, replaced with jyn's emotions -- determined and nervous with a thread of hesitant affection.
jyn doesn't know how long it takes, seconds or minutes, but eventually she intuits that her power has done all it can and her hands fall, the blue light and the warm feeling going with it. she puffs out a breath and takes a couple steps to sink down on the riverbank. ]
[ He lifts his hands a few inches in surrender - yes ma'am, the pants are staying on and closed. It's in good humor, though. It's that light and easy countenance he wears whenever they're not... getting attacked by fucking monsters.
And then comes the healing, warm and erasing an ache he'd been dealing with as background noise for days. He sighs out relief audibly through his nose, closes his eyes to savor it.
And then it's gone, leaving behind only three scarred lines. He can live with that. He's told scars are supposed to be sexy. ]
Thank you.
[ Spoken sincerely, and... as for a tip, he reaches into his pocket and offers out...
[ so here's the thing -- jyn has never had stuff. the reality of a transient lifestyle meant no material belongings to tie her down, stuffed animals lost to the fire, blaster and knife lost to a way out of a planet under siege. she's only ever had her mother's necklace and even now in new amsterdam, her apartment is not cluttered with things.
what she does have are gifts from friends; sketches from clarke, weapons from daisy and cassian. a kazoo from ian now, taking it carefully from his hand. it's just a stupid children's toy but for someone who doesn't have stuff it feels like something more.
[ a soft laugh, tired, she gives a little wave of her hand like she is giving him the go ahead to leave and show off his range of motion and neat new scar while she calls cassian to come bring her home because she is exhausted. ]
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no subject
[ Ah yes, this is the most innocent tone anyone has ever heard. So mild, so innocuous, certainly could not be making an innuendo.
Not that it'd get him very far with all this gross exposed fillet on his shoulder.
Ian has the good sense, at least, to dip down and tug his shoes and socks off. The only thing worse than an alien fucking apocalypse is walking around in wet socks and shoes. Pants get rolled up to the knee, and then he steps down into the water with her. ]
no subject
Keep it in your pants.
[ her hands have to stretch almost straight up to reach his shoulder, but after a second her cold finger touch his skin again and the blue light flares in her chest. water slips across her bare skin and under her clothes like ribbons until it pools under her hands, warm and soothing. ian's wound stitches together under her touch, pain dissipating almost immediately. it is, however, replaced with jyn's emotions -- determined and nervous with a thread of hesitant affection.
jyn doesn't know how long it takes, seconds or minutes, but eventually she intuits that her power has done all it can and her hands fall, the blue light and the warm feeling going with it. she puffs out a breath and takes a couple steps to sink down on the riverbank. ]
Healthcare's free but I accept tips.
no subject
And then comes the healing, warm and erasing an ache he'd been dealing with as background noise for days. He sighs out relief audibly through his nose, closes his eyes to savor it.
And then it's gone, leaving behind only three scarred lines. He can live with that. He's told scars are supposed to be sexy. ]
Thank you.
[ Spoken sincerely, and... as for a tip, he reaches into his pocket and offers out...
His kazoo. Waggles his eyebrows. You want it? ]
no subject
what she does have are gifts from friends; sketches from clarke, weapons from daisy and cassian. a kazoo from ian now, taking it carefully from his hand. it's just a stupid children's toy but for someone who doesn't have stuff it feels like something more.
a childish idea she squashes down. ]
I was promised a concert.
no subject
[ An original song he... never wrote, but if his bluff gets called he'll make one up on the spot. It'll be terrible. He will feel no shame. ]
I'll get back to you on that when I find an instrument that doesn't make your ears bleed.
[ A nod at the kazoo in her hands. ]
By the way, I definitely recommend practicing at two in the morning in the safe house. People love it.
[ They do not. ]
no subject
[ a soft laugh, tired, she gives a little wave of her hand like she is giving him the go ahead to leave and show off his range of motion and neat new scar while she calls cassian to come bring her home because she is exhausted. ]