undergrounds | [OPEN] APRIL CATCH-ALL!

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[OPEN] APRIL CATCH-ALL!

A. TROUBLE AHEAD [CLOSED TO LANCELOT]
Faolan isn't quite sure what to think when he first hears the news. Him? Nominated for a position on the Night Council? It's bad enough that he's somehow found himself Head of Hillingdon and Guardian both, but now this? Should he try for it, now that he's been nominated for it? Does he even want it? He could do a hell of a lot of good on the inside like that, and part of him understands that it's a way to get out of being a Guardian and the dangers involved in walking that line. But a seat on the Council...

He stew on the news on his own for about a day before he can't take it anymore. Locking up his office at Hillingdon House he pulls out his mobile as he heads out the door towards the station, Lancelot's number dialed even before he knows what he's doing. "Hey," he says, as Lancelot answers the phone. "Are you home?"

B. ON THE CAMPAIGN
Faolan doesn't really know whether he wants the position or not. He's got enough on his plate as it is, without complicating matters further with a position on the Night Council. But he has no qualms speaking to people about the idea of it, if they have any thoughts to share on the matter. A candidate from Hillingdon, that's nearly unheard of, considering the faction's less than political slant. Although it's been growing more so, as of late.

He makes sure that he's available to speak at Hillingdon House, and when the idea that he should advocate for himself in the position comes up, he's not quite sure what to do about it. Though it occurs to him that while he may not want the position, it's a good opportunity to spread his ideas about. Carefully. He has to make sure he's not breaking any Council or Guardian rules while he's doing so. But a bit of simple expression of his opinion never hurt anyone. Right?

And so he makes himself available around the Council building, in Night Council Territories, and in Redbright territories as well. Just sitting himself down at a table in a cafe, sometimes grabbing a sandwich but more often than not just a coffee. And being there to talk. About whatever they'd like. His position on his belief in equality for all branches of the supernatural on the Underground, perhaps? Although nothing's stopping anyone from sitting down to chat about anything else. His face has suddenly become a lot more well-known, for better or worse, and Faolan's going to do his best to make use of that while he can.

C. LIES AND SLANDER
He should have known it was only a matter of time before someone started slinging his name through the mud. And he should have known that it would be Gilbert Norrell doing the mudslinging. What with the position he'd taken against him in the latest territory dispute and his own personal stance on the matter of equality for all. Including the fae, a hot button item as far as Norrell is concerned.

The flier he's just been handed by some unknowing volunteer is much the same as any other political flier might be. No doubt the poor kid didn't even know who he'd been handing it to. But it's what it says that has Faolan growling at anyone who dares look at him as he makes his way down the street. There sports on the front of it a large photograph, caught at some function or another, god knows who took it or where, of Faolan standing guard behind the Council Members, Sylvia Redbright and Gilbert Norrell featured prominently in the foreground but it's clearly Faolan in the photograph. Below it reads:

FAOLAN O'NEILL: DISOBEYED HIS SUPERIORS TO SUPPORT THE FAE. WOULD YOU GIVE A GUARDIAN LIKE THAT MORE POWER???

He'd been so careful. He'd jumped through hoops to keep his position with the Night Council a secret. But the story is out now. God knows how many other fliers have been printed up. God knows what other things they say about him. By the time he reaches Hillingdon House he's in the blackest of moods, shutting himself in his office and hiding away from the world as best he can. But he can't hide forever. People at Hillingdon will be able to find him. And people out and about now too for that matter...

D. GOING SHOPPING
He needs something to take his mind off of all of this political business, and the one thing he can think of is the fact that he knows that Lancelot's birthday is coming up. At least, he's fairly certain that it's coming up. He's got a pretty good handle that it's in May at least, although the exact date he's a bit hazy on. The 5th stands out most prominently in his mind, but he'll need confirmation on that for certain before he starts making any plans. But he'll need to make plans. And he'll need to get the other man something. Something good. Something to make up for this mess that he's put him through, time and time again. Better than a bottle of wine, or a dog toy. Certainly better than the Monkey's Paw, what with that and the decapitated head he's sure Lancelot's had enough of dismembered body parts in boxes for a while yet.

He finds himself standing staring into the window of a pet shop one afternoon, wondering if maybe the secret to the other man's heart really is through his furry friend, and how lame a gift it would be to repeat a gift he's already done, knowing at least that it would be appreciated. But Lancelot had bought him a coffee machine. No, he's going to have to do much better than that.

E. WILDCARD
What it says on the tin! Want to do something that I haven't written a prompt for! Either run it by me first if you like or just GO FOR IT!! c:

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"It's your decision, Faolan, not mine. They're your clothes. I'm just offering something if you'd like to protect them -- save you going home dishevelled if you can change back into something clean."

He shrugs, takes another sip of water before re-capping his water and sticking it back in the fridge.

"It's no trouble, if that's what you're worried about, I have plenty of spare old shirts that I save for the garden or things like this."

Faolan wouldn't exactly call what he's wearing clean, considering he's been wearing it for the whole day, but it's probably cleaner now than what it would be like if he were to wear it for whatever is coming. And imagining the amount of white dog fur that he's liable to pick up on it...

"...Yeah, alright," he says, after a long moment's contemplation. "Probably a good idea." He just hopes that whatever Lancelot chooses, he doesn't wind up swimming in -- he and Lancelot are not exactly the same size and height, after all.

"Good choice," Lancelot says, and flashes Faolan a smile before pacing through to his bedroom to grab a t-shirt. He taps the screen of his sound-system on the way past, waking it up and swiping down the volume. The soft strains of guitar begin to feel the flat, Dire Straits, and a moment later Lancelot jogs back through with a t-shirt in his hand. It's a greenish grey sort of colour, declares properly trained a man can be dog's best friend. The slight smirk Lancelot wears indicates that he might find this funny.

"Here," he prompt, "see if this works."

He imagines it won't be too small, but he has a few different cuts and fits that might work better if necessary. It's short sleeved at least, so he won't need to worry about if he'll be rolling up the sleeves.

Faolan appreciates the music. He's always been one to appreciate good music, although looking at him, knowing him now, it'd be hard to tell. Aside from the band shirts he's been known to wear, possibly the only remnant left of the life he had before. H takes the shirt from Lancelot as he returns with it, holding it up first to judge the sizing and then read the saying on it. He crooks an eyebrow at him and at the expression on the other man's face.

"Don't think I don't know you're doing this on purpose," he says. He hesitates for a moment, and for an absurd half-second actually contemplates going into the bathroom to change. But no, Lancelot has seen him change before, and never commented or questioned about his body or the scars covering it. Though he's still self-conscious about the idea of changing in front of him, he won't refuse it at least.

He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it down and across the nearest piece of furniture before gripping the hem of his shirt and tugging it off and over his head as well. Tossing it down with his jacket and going for the shirt Lancelot had given him. At least there weren't any recent injuries to be hiding from the other man this time. He slips Lancelot's tshirt on over his head, smoothing it down once he's got it on and then standing back to present himself to the other man.

"Well?" He's not swimming, no, but it's obviously big on him. Faolan is naturally slighter than the other man as well and so it drapes more than it should, and hangs a bit lower at the waist, arms, and collar than it should as well. But it's not like he's going out like this -- and maybe it's a good thing that it's covering more of his jeans than not?

Lancelot watches with idle curiosity as Faolan changes, studying him thoughtfully as he pulls the t-shirt on and fidgets it straight.

He offers a shrug in answer.

"It's fine, your only audience is myself and Lily after all. The idea is to protect yourself and your clothes, not be fashionable. Did you want to finish that first?"

Turning he gestures to the coffee Faolan has left on the side, lofts an eyebrow. If he does then he'd better to it now before the beast is unleashed. She lets out another single bark from outside, circling impatiently. When can she come in? When?!

Faolan turns back to his coffee with a look that suggests he's almost forgotten about it completely. His mind really is preoccupied, and not just on his tshirt and the other man in front of him. There's a reason that he came there in the first place after all, even if he has been avoiding it thus far, and it it hadn't been simply to help the other man bathe his dog.

"Yeah, sorry," he says, and turns to pick it up. It's cool enough now that he can drink it faster, which he does. He probably shouldn't leave her waiting out there for too much longer. She's a good dog, but even good dogs don't have infinite amounts of patience.

"Nothing to apologise for, Faolan, I just wanted to check before I made it difficult for you to keep hold of a hot drink."

He wrinkles his nose playfully at the man, leaning one hip against the counter as he waits. Lily bounces by the door, whining as she is forced to suffer exclusion, and after a moment when it looks like Faolan is nearly done Lancelot vanishes away and re-appears with a large beach towel.

"I do have a plan," he says, and grins. "So let me know when you're ready to hear it."

Edited (repitition) 2016-04-26 23:56 (UTC)

"A plan?" Faolan asks, as he glances over at Lily bouncing by the door -- but not off the door, not yet anyway -- before back at Lancelot. He drains the last of his coffee before he steps forward and sets the mug down on the counter and turns to lean against it, much the same way the other man had done before, if perhaps with a little less nonchalance.

"What sort of plan?" About the dog, he imagines. Unless Lancelot's jumping ahead and forcing him to speak about what he'd actually come there for in the first place. He'd let him know what his plans had been, after all. It wouldn't be from out of the blue, at least.

About the dog is right. Lancelot gestures slightly with the towel.

"I'll grab her with this, carry her quickly through. Hold the bathroom door open and I'll set her in the bath, then we can start getting ourselves wet. I have some dog shampoo for her, it's already in there on the side, I just need an extra pair of hands to stop her helping too much."

Or vaulting out the bathtub , or goodness knows what else.

Faolan is about to ask how easy it's going to be to just carry her, but then he remembers Lancelot's strength and thinks better of it. Really the only reason Lancelot probably does appreciate him being there is for an extra pair of hands. He's certainly no help as far as strength or skill in this matter are concerned.

He nods after a moment. "Alright. Hold the door open, yeah? I think I can do that much without too much error," he replies, with the awkward quirk of a smile.

"Don't think this means you avoid the rest of it. Ready?" As soon as Faolan nods Lance opens the door and catches Lily in the beach towel as she bounds in, scoops her into his arms. She struggles gamely, reasonably unsure about all this, and Lancelot begins to carry her quickly through toward the bathroom. It's impressive he can even navigate with armfuls of very big fluffy white dog -- struggling fluffy white dog at that, yet he just about manages it.

Faolan nods slightly before stepping back, helping Lancelot shut the door behind himself once he has Lily scooped up before he steps forward and makes certain to be to the door of the bathroom faster than Lancelot so that he can hold it open in turn.

"Here," he says, trying not to be too exciting. Lily doesn't seem to be too difficult for Lancelot to be able to carry, but he's sure that will not be the case if he puts the idea in her head to start struggling against any of this. Not before they've shut themselves into the bathroom at any rate.

Ah, but Faolan is exciting simply by virtue of being there! She wiggles in Lancelot's arms but he manages to wrangle her into the bath tub regardless, vaguely fold and set aside the towel before letting out a sigh of relief.

"Right, that's the easy part over with. Which end do you want to be in charge of, the licky end or the swishy end?"

Lily sniffs the bath curiously, the bottles along the side and the taps. What is this? Why is she in it? It smells strange.

Faolan shuts the bathroom door behind them and steps forward, truly considering his answer as he does. On one hand, he rather enjoys being able to pet Lily's head and ears as he likes but on the other, that seems to be the dirtiest part of her and besides... "I don't know," he says honestly. "I've never bathed a dog before. Which would you recommend?" he asks, after a moment, quirking something of a smile at the other man in turn before reaching out to ruffle between Lily's muddy ears. What she had actually been doing on this adventure of hers not even Faolan can guess for certain.

Digging, chasing, all the best sort of doggy things!

Lancelot picks up the handheld shower and begins to run the water at a low pressure, testing the temperature against his hand.

"Well, they balance out once she realises she's not totally happy about being wet and goes still... but until then, the swishy end is a little less muddy. The licky end is cuter. Depends what you prefer."

He draws a bottle of doggy safe shampoo closer and grins as Lily begins to inspect the shower-head curiously, lapping at the water before gazing at him questioningly and shifting in the bath. Her paws are beginning to get wet! Why this?

Faolan ruffles her ears again as he contemplates his answer before he decides he at least knows more what to do with the face part. "This part, perhaps. The licky end, as you say." He threads his fingers through her fur, picking out some of the mud and glancing to Lancelot before back at Lily herself.

"It is cuter, after all. Though I don't need to have a choice. Just instruct me on what I should be doing, and I'll do it." He tries to soothe her, stroking her face in response to the confusion she's feeling from getting her paws wet, but he's not sure that he's doing much good in the end.

Lily shifts uncomfortably, trying to back up in the bath in an attempt to get away from the water, and Lancelot shushes her gently as he loops the hose of the shower around in front of Faolan so he can begin wetting her fur down her back.

"Press the plug in for me? Just keep her steady and calm. It takes a lot of water to get her fur to actually stay wet, so she'll start splashing around and fussing. Make sure her ears properly get clean, and try and keep the shampoo out of her eyes once we get it on her."

Lily's ears droop a little as Lancelot starts ruffling her to try and get the water through her fur and she gives Faolan a plaintive look. Faolan, help her!

Faolan reaches forward to do as he's told, suddenly recognizing why the other man had given him a change of shirts. Wondering if really he shouldn't have offered him a different outfit entirely, given the wary look in Lily's eyes and the way she's begun to attempt to sidle her way out of the bath even despite Lancelot's best efforts.

He reaches forward, scratching his fingers through her fur and trying to ease her worry. "Poor Lily," he says, gently. "Going on an adventure in the mud, and this is the return you get? Shh," he hushes as she starts to squirm slightly. "Be a good girl, that's it."

He glances up at Lancelot, only just then realizing that he's talking to the other man's dog in front of him and coloring slightly for it. "Is there a better way to be doing this?" he asks. As it is, he's kind of awkwardly hovering over the edge of the bath, and probably won't be much help from this angle when the real squirming starts.

"That depends," he answers lightly, "on how wet you mind getting. You could tug off your socks and roll up your trousers, swing a leg into the tub so you can get a better grip on her."

But that would, inevitably, open him up to more wet dog invading his space and getting his clothes wet. Lancelot doesn't mind, of course, but Lancelot also has a whole wardrobe full of clothes to change into should he get wet.

Edited 2016-05-07 23:49 (UTC)

Faolan ruffles Lily's ears and contemplates the idea of it for a moment, before deciding to just go for it. Why not? If Lancelot thinks it might work?

"Keep a hold on her for a moment," he says, giving her one more ruffle before pulling back and tugging off his socks, setting them aside and reaching down to roll up the legs of his trousers as best he can. They'll only go so far, but it's good enough. Lancelot's not going to be filling the tub that far. Moving back to the edge of the tub, he swings a leg over and moves to perch on the edge, before reaching for Lily again.

"You knock me in with her and I'm taking you with me," is about the only comment he throws Lancelot on the matter.

Lancelot braces her a little as Faolan begins readying himself, twitches an amused smirk at the warning.

"Don't worry, neither of us will be escaping this dry."

Lily noses closer now Faolan is more accessible, giving him another plaintive look while Lancelot goes back to trying to wet down her hind quarters.

"Easy, girl," he murmurs, and smooths her flanks a little as he tries to persuade the fur to soak through.

Faolan strokes her fur soothingly, hoping she will settle a little better now that she has realized that they are at least in this together, if nothing else. "There's a good girl," he murmurs himself, unsure what else he's supposed to be doing beyond soothing just now. He has asked for direction from the other man, he imagines if he needs him to do anything else then he will hopefully speak up to request as much.

Of course, in the meanwhile that means that he's just sitting back, soothing the dog, with their conversation painfully open to everything that he didn't really want to address that had just happened. "Lancelot..." he starts, but suddenly finds himself at a loss for words. What does he even say? Does Lancelot even know about the nomination?

"Mmmm?"

He glances sideways at Faolan, finger combing through fur as he runs the water along her no-longer-wagging tail. She steps closer to Faolan, pushing at him with her nuzzle as if to find a way past him.

"You wanted to talk?" Lancelot prompts, guessing he might be trying to broach something. "Now is as good a time as any, this will take a while."

Faolan nods slightly, making sure to keep a firm hold on Lily as she pushes against him, making sure that she doesn't travel any further than him, certainly not out of the bath itself as Lancelot works the water through her coat.

Still, it takes him a moment or so to gather his thoughts. It's obvious that there's something on his mind, but the trouble is expressing himself on the matter. At last he settles on starting with the simple truth of the matter. "Yeah, I... Did you hear? About the election? The nomination." His nomination.

"I did! I wasn't sure if I should congratulate you or not."

He shifts to channel the hose down Lily's legs, trying to get her to lift a paws so he can make sure he washes right down to her skin and between her toes.

"Are you worried about it? I assume you have a plan, since you accepted."

Lancelot, it seems, has a little more faith in Faolan than perhaps he should.

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