Post by Mantis on Aug 30, 2017 15:38:26 GMT
Mantis gave the Doctor’s reminiscings a crooked little smile, thoughts working around the college Reginold that came up in their discourse every now and then. Reginold seemed to have been wild in his day, even if it was hard to believe just by looking at him now. None of it seemed to be left - that is, if one didn’t count some character infringing vices he was adept at concealing from the public. The stories of the openly flawed young Reginold did, however, always amuse an interest Mantis greatly. He was curious by nature, after all.
However, it was something the older man said after the short anecdote from his past.
Something that made Mantis stop mid swig of beer to properly look at him, taken aback.
‘If we ever make it home I'll have to show you around that place.’
We. Us. Home. He’d said it.
And Mantis contemplated the meaning of it when he placed the bottle of the surface before him, eyes still on Reginold. His expression was both curious and little stunned. It didn’t feel as anxiety inducing as he’d maybe initially expected, to speak of home as well as Reginold and him using a … single pronoun. Such reality felt far away, yes, but not entirely impossible - at least when one had a generous glass of wine, a double shot of Vodka and a fourth of a beer sloshing about in his head.
“I’d - I’d like that,” Mantis said eventually, after he’d let the thin veil of stupor lift from his face. “To see it, I mean.” Your… the home.
The words were punctuated with a slight smile that evaporated quickly.
‘I mean...make it to my home town haha..You know?’
The truth of the matter was that Mantis didn’t really know. Not on a profound level, anyway. Home was a concept, not a thing in his life. Reginold had likely gathered as much, having seen the array of different places he tended the stay at. And based on their more recent encounter in King’s Row, it was likely that he’d understood none of those places were actually … well, his. They came with conditions that were yet to be disclosed openly.
Mantis didn’t look exactly somber then, since he didn’t have enough context to wallow on the fact. But rather, he looked deep in thought for a moment, eyes concentrated on nothing in particular before they returned to Reginold.
“I’m not sure,” he said, feeling how awkward the response was. It was, however, the only way he could muster the truth. “I think I used to live somewhere for sometime before all of this,” he said and lifted his hand to point to his extensive augmentations, the orange glow of the pizzeria gleaming on the surface of well maintained metal. “But I’ve never really lived anywhere long enough to … call any particular place home.” There was something significant that flashed in his gaze then - as though he’d realized something after having said all that. His eyes adjusted slightly, looking more keenly into the Doctor’s. Whatever it was, he didn’t say it. “I like LA though,” lot of work, drugs and disposable men? Not really. Or, there was all that, of course, but those weren’t the reason. “Gideon rarely comes here.” He felt another pang of awkwardness having said that. “I can be my own person,” he tried a smile. “And the scenery is pretty good.”
However, it was something the older man said after the short anecdote from his past.
Something that made Mantis stop mid swig of beer to properly look at him, taken aback.
‘If we ever make it home I'll have to show you around that place.’
We. Us. Home. He’d said it.
And Mantis contemplated the meaning of it when he placed the bottle of the surface before him, eyes still on Reginold. His expression was both curious and little stunned. It didn’t feel as anxiety inducing as he’d maybe initially expected, to speak of home as well as Reginold and him using a … single pronoun. Such reality felt far away, yes, but not entirely impossible - at least when one had a generous glass of wine, a double shot of Vodka and a fourth of a beer sloshing about in his head.
“I’d - I’d like that,” Mantis said eventually, after he’d let the thin veil of stupor lift from his face. “To see it, I mean.” Your… the home.
The words were punctuated with a slight smile that evaporated quickly.
‘I mean...make it to my home town haha..You know?’
The truth of the matter was that Mantis didn’t really know. Not on a profound level, anyway. Home was a concept, not a thing in his life. Reginold had likely gathered as much, having seen the array of different places he tended the stay at. And based on their more recent encounter in King’s Row, it was likely that he’d understood none of those places were actually … well, his. They came with conditions that were yet to be disclosed openly.
Mantis didn’t look exactly somber then, since he didn’t have enough context to wallow on the fact. But rather, he looked deep in thought for a moment, eyes concentrated on nothing in particular before they returned to Reginold.
“I’m not sure,” he said, feeling how awkward the response was. It was, however, the only way he could muster the truth. “I think I used to live somewhere for sometime before all of this,” he said and lifted his hand to point to his extensive augmentations, the orange glow of the pizzeria gleaming on the surface of well maintained metal. “But I’ve never really lived anywhere long enough to … call any particular place home.” There was something significant that flashed in his gaze then - as though he’d realized something after having said all that. His eyes adjusted slightly, looking more keenly into the Doctor’s. Whatever it was, he didn’t say it. “I like LA though,” lot of work, drugs and disposable men? Not really. Or, there was all that, of course, but those weren’t the reason. “Gideon rarely comes here.” He felt another pang of awkwardness having said that. “I can be my own person,” he tried a smile. “And the scenery is pretty good.”
