Between jobs

Who: Caleb and Nic
Where: Nic's house
When: Afternoon

Caleb was a little injured. Not overwhelmingly so--and weirdly most of the injuries were small and shallow. But that was what happened when you got utterly overrun by small demony type creatures he'd never seen before. They kind of reminded him of that old movie, Critters. Only more annoying. Either way, he'd spent the majority of his day in some backwater village in Alaska, getting rid of the stupid things. When he got back to Marquette, he was pretty exhausted, and instead of going back to the hospital, he headed for Nic's house. He didn't know if she was home or not, but he was planning on giving it a shot. So he dropped down outside her window, and peeked in.

With the fact that things were relatively calm in town lately, being a protector had never been so mundane as it was for Nic these days. Most people might think otherwise, when her charges were a moody psychic and his girlfriend who was one of the rarest creatures in creation, but that was how it went. Some days, there was no protecting to do. But even in that case, there was very rarely a day off for Nic. If she didn’t have trouble to worry over, she had trouble to prepare for, spells to stock up for or practice casting, fighting stances to train through, and other people to worry about.

Those things were all constants, really, especially the last one. But that was expected when her mother was a trauma nurse and her former boyfriend/current best friend was Death. Still, training helped to ease the anxiety, which was why Nic had been tucked away in her room for hours now, forcing herself through fighting drills based around the idea that she might have next to no room to move while fighting. Elbows snapped from side to side as she pivoted on a heel, one knee snapping up to break imaginary ribs before she dropped back with a huff of breath, wrapped hands curled tight in front of her.

Caleb watched for a few moments, til she appeared done for the moment, then he reached out and tapped on the glass. Last time he'd showed up at the door he got called on it being weird, so he was going back to old habits. Sure, it just meant he was being kinda a stalker, but whatever. Nic knew he was. She'd known for ages now.

Turning to look back over a tattooed shoulder, Nic had half a smile in place before she even saw Caleb there. She didn’t get visitors, period, let alone ones who opted for the window instead of the door. Only one guy did that, and that was always enough to make her grin. Now was no different when she saw him, not even with the obvious signs of injury clinging to Caleb. If he was hurt bad, he wouldn’t have knocked, and even if she hated seeing any injuries on him at all?
By now Nic knew that he just took them in stride, even if she was going to fuss over them all the same. Tugging open the window, she leaned down into it with a lighter smirk in place as she braced herself on a wrapped hand. “So normally you’ve got to fight me ‘Red Sonja’’ style to gain admittance here? But it looks like you’ve already had a tussle today, so I’ll let it slide,” she greeted.

"Rain check. You can get me into interesting combat situations another night." he told her, smirking at her. He stepped up, looking at her from fairly close. "You gonna move voluntarily, or am I going to have to get creative?" he asked. He was exhausted, but he was happy to see her. He was glad he'd decided to stop by. "You know mostly I came by so we could argue about whether or not I should take better care of myself, and debate if I need healing or not."

“If you make it a debate, you will need healing after I whup you into agreement,” Nic asserted, stepping back from the window to give him room to climb in. She always loved the verbal sparring they had, but sometimes? Well, it got a little heated. Sometimes it got to them talking about her in a costume, others it got... more compromising, for people who were supposed to have broken up. So today? Just friends. Right. “Lucky for you, I just restocked on components,” she told him as she waited for Caleb to come in.

Caleb got himself up and in through the window, though he stayed seated on it once inside the room. "I was thinking this time we could switch it up. You could take the 'no you don't need it' track, and I could whine and say I do." he told her, watching her with amusement. He was aware of the fact that his clothes were in pretty bad disrepair from the claws and teeth from the stupid creatures. And that there were a lot of blood stains leaked into the fabric. It actually reminded him of when he'd first met her. It was at a halloween costume type party, and he'd just worn some of his old clothes that were shredded and bloody.

Moving to her desk, Nic grabbed a towel from the chair to quickly wipe her face before she gave Caleb a look of disbelief. “Yeah, because I’m gonna root for you to hang out in my room and bleed on stuff. Pleasepleaseplease just hop right on the bed,” she mocked lightly, setting to work unwrapping her hands. “How bad is it, anyway?” Venturing over as she uncoiled the wraps, Nic took a second to look over the leaky stains on his shirt, mentally tallying what she could and breathing silent relief that it honestly didn’t look too bad. Caleb could handle bad, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to.

Dimly, she remembered the same night, though she’d never known that the blood stains on his ‘costume’ had been authentic. It had just been a party, after all, and the fact that he’d brought a real machete as a prop had been mind-boggling enough by itself. “And what did it? Have you been napping on broken glass or something?”

"There was a job I needed to do in Alaska. I don't know what they were. Short little creature things. Remember that movie Critters? Like that, kinda. All needle like teeth and claws." he explained. "So while nothing's all that major, and I healed up a lot of it, it still left a whole lot of little bullshit wounds." He didn't see a reason to not tell her the flat truth, so he did. He pulled up his sleeve, showing her some of the aformentioned wounds. The worst part about them was the scrapes were so close together that his skin felt like ribbon in some places.

“Dude, I remember all four of those movies,” Nic agreed, wincing at the display of damaged skin. Maybe it wasn’t life-threatening, but it wasn’t nice to see in any case. ANd for all the wounds she could see on his arm that looked like scrapes? There were more under the rest of his shirt, and some of them had to be punctures if whatever he’d fought actually did have teeth like that. “Yeah, you’re rocking some grade A road rash, Lockwood. Lose the shirt and we’ll get you back to spec,” Nic instructed, dropping her hand wraps loosely on the floor and moving for her backpack. “And tell me about Alaska? Like, I know you weren’t there to sight-see, but still...”

"I think I need to start tallying up how often it is you want me to take off my shirt." Caleb told her, though he did comply. "It's starting to get ridiculous. I mean, creative, sure, all these convenient excuses and everything but still..." he trailed off, dropping his shirt down on the floor at his feet. "And Alaska was interesting, I guess. Even more rural than here and I didn't know that was a real thing. Kinda pretty in an 'the environment is going to kill me' sort of way."

Giving a soft snort of amusement, Nic absently raised one hand to flip him off as she rummaged through her bag, grabbing fresh bits of linen and spell tools to cast minor healing tricks. “I’m just trying to even us out here,” she said, her words reaching her own ears half a second later. Friends, she reminded herself, biting her lip for a moment as she looked away from Caleb, down into her backpack. She only needed that moment of composure before Nic headed his way, grabbing a t-shirt off of her bed and slinging it over her shoulder.

“Here,” she said, handing off a few bits of fabric to Caleb. “Clean the ones on your front, I’ll get started with the back.” He needed a different line of work, or maybe she did. All Nic knew was that being a healer and harboring old feelings for him led to tricky situations, most of them close to this one. “Are you kidding? Marquette’s like... a jewel of civilization next to the rest of the U.P., Lockwood. We’re a frozen-ass Library of Alexandria compared to Gwinn and Seney,” Nic joked, moving around him to start patching him up.

He shifted to make it easier for her to get his back, and he dutifully started cleaning wounds on his arms and abdomen. "Never been to either of those places. Just here." he told her. He'd not been anywhere in the U.P. really. He'd driven through with Math and stuff, but they'd been preoccupied with fetching Dorian and the like. "But either way, it was this tiny ass village. Like couldn't have been more than a couple hundred people there. Honest to god cabins and shit."

That was the kind of thing that spooked Nic more than any horror movie, and not just because it was real. She’d seen plenty of very real, very messed-up shit in her time as Caleb’s friend and Dean’s protector, but what spooked her was thinking of any of it descending on little pockets like the one Caleb described. Any group of humanity could just be swallowed up, if it was remote enough. “Creepy,” she murmured, gently cleaning his wounds with one hand as the other went through the practiced motions of healing spells, binding little cuts and gouges with soft words of power. “How many of them made it through? The people, I mean.”

"Oh, most of them." Caleb told her, pausing in his own work as he thought about it. "They'd figured out there were things killing people, and holed up together. It was kind of like that Stephen King story...whatever, The Mist or something? They made a movie. But anyways, it was kind of like that, only it was at this extremely small school. So they were sort of staging their own stand off, and I just helped."

“Just,” Nic echoed with a hint of mocking in her tone as she finished a series of small rakes down one side of his back, watching his exposed skin for a moment. Too many urges came up to do something with all of it in front of her, so Nic only lingered long enough to roll her eyes at herself before she stepped away. “You use that word too much, I think. ‘Just’ helping is way more than that implies when it’s you or anyone else who knows their shit.” The last part was vital to say, given how poorly Caleb handled any praise thrown his way, even if it had been earned in blood by now. “But still, cool. I’m glad it didn’t go worse, and that this is the worst you came away with. This and a souvenir hat with moose antlers or something, I’m betting,” she teased, moving around Caleb to get a better look at his injuries on his chest.

He felt her hesitation there, and wondered if it was a good thing or a bad thing. And, of course, what fell into both categories. To say the lines were fuzzy as hell with Nic was a gross understatement. He didn't say anything though, just glancing at her as she spoke. When she mentioned the bit about a hat with antlers, he flashed a grin. "Novelty hats weren't big on my list of things to acquire." he admitted. "But if you want me to go back, I could probably find one, and you could keep it, just to mark the occasion." He paused. "I actually had thought of taking something from everywhere I'd been Called to? But it sort of felt very 'serial killer' of me."

He got a rich note of laughter from Nic there, her eyes flashing with amusement as she looked Caleb over. “Only if your mementos were part of the recently deceased, I’d say,” she reassured him lightly, head shaking at the idea as Nic started treating to little cuts and gouges on his stomach. “But something to remember the place by? That’s cool, not at all crazy or anything. I think it’s probably worth remembering some of the places you’re gonna go, instead of why you're going there.” After all, who knew where his role of Death might take him?

"I guess. But don't serial killers keep other things that aren't parts of dead people?" he posed, though he didn't really need an answer. He'd take it under advisement, see how it felt next time he was somewhere. Or maybe, he'd just take something from everywhere and give them all to people. Or her. Or something. He sat back, watching her with amusement, since really, he could totally reach the ones she was working on. He just didn't actually try and stop her.

“Some of them do, I guess,” she admitted, smirking his way before Nic shut her eyes and pressed her hand flat against Caleb’s sternum. A few whispered words slipped out, touching the little spell tools she’d cleaned him with, then binding the lighter cuts and scrapes along his stomach. When they clustered up like Caleb’s injuries tended to? She was good enough to catch a handful at a time. “But there’s also that movie with the hit-man who brings his secretary a ‘Snoopy’ doll from every country he visits,” Nic countered once the spell had triggered, “So maybe think of yourself less ‘sociopath’ and more.... career oriented? Gainfully employed?”

"Career oriented." Caleb repeated, amused. "Sure. Whatever you say, Nic. We'll go with that." he decided. "So if you were taking up the role of the secretary, what, by chance, would you want brought back to you?" he asked.

The question made Nic smirk as she went through the spell’s preparations again, binding the cuts higher up onto Caleb’s chest and ribs. “I’m the secretary now? Do we get to fight off some cops together?” she asked rhetorically, not answering right away as she thought it over. “And.... maybe bracelets or something, something you could find easily, but that’d still be distinctive for each place you go,” she mused as she worked. “Hell, I’ve gotta replace that one I gave to your friend, Jen or something like that?”

"We might, you don't know." Caleb told her. He noted the idea of bracelets. Maybe he'd expand that to jewelry in general, trinkets that might work in with that theme. “And yeah, Jen. She's...kinda gone to live with Dean and Thia. I haven't talked to her since she went there." he admitted. "Think anything that might've gone on there sort of went away with the whole murder of the love of her life thing." he said, eyes sort of ticking to the staple scars that were still in his chest. The scar from the stab wound was still present with them, a sort of frankenstein look if he ever saw one. At least the metal was ditched. "I'll be sure to get you a proper replacement."

“You don’t get to buy me a new one, I’ll replace that. But if you see something else cool when you’re stomping around India or something? Hook a girl up,” Nic teased, following Caleb’s gaze to the scar over his heart. She wasn’t sure if he planned on keeping it, but if he didn’t, he’d ask her to remove it eventually. For now it was probably linked to the weird headspace she knew he’d been in.

She was quiet a moment, triggering another spell to bind his remaining wounds aside from the odd scratch or scrape, the kind of things Caleb wore like most people wore a shirt. “That’s shitty, everything going south with her,” she offered after a moment, moving to grab him a cleaner shirt than the one he’d showed up in. “I mean, it’s not like you could’ve left the guy out there, I get that... but it still sucks. For both of you.”

He didn't say anything as he kept his eyes on her, following her movement in the room as she got him a shirt. He sort of wondered just how many shirts they'd exchanged in their time together. Probably more than could be properly counted. He still wore a lot of the shirts she'd given him when the house burned down. "Definitely sucks for her, because she had to go through it to start with." he said, though it was after a marked silence. Mostly because a question rose to the surface of his mind--he just wasn't enough of a dick to actually ask.

Nic felt like even nodding was overly familiar of her given how little she knew, but the few bits she did know left her feeling like any sympathy she had was deserved. She’d seen Manchester, tried to help the boys after their trauma, and knew Jen had needed wards to keep her safe. “If she needs anything else, I can do it, you know? Even if it’s just like... teas to help her sleep or something.” Twinges of jealousy or awkwardness be damned, this was the right thing to do.

"You'd have to ask her." Caleb said. "Like I said, she hasn't spoken to me since she left my house, and I don't expect her to any time soon." Since he really figured she was done with him. Not to the point where she'd never speak to him again or anything, he imagined if he was around Jen would talk to him, but he didn't forsee her seeking his company.

She’d have to do that, check in on Jen the next time she was at Dean’s. Given that it was Dean’s, it’d probably be soon, even. “You doing okay with that?” Nic asked somewhat bluntly. “I mean, I know how you used to bug over what I’d do when I knew more of your whole picture. And I know a lot of people would take it worse.” That was how this sounded to her, and it wasn’t hard to see that it bothered Caleb when the world he protected was horrified by his methods.

"I think it doesn't matter if I'm okay with it or not." Caleb said, finally tugging the shirt she'd got for him on. "I think she's going to feel how she's going to feel, and it sort of makes me feel better that she isn't okay with it. If she was, which--it sort of looked for a little bit like she was going to be?--then it would make me uncomfortable. So, I guess, there is no good way to go here, but this is the one I feel better about."

Caleb had a way with mixed blessings, and this was a perfect example of it. She felt bad for him losing a friend, because Caleb didn’t make them lightly, but if he felt better for Jen’s sake because of the distance? It might’ve been for the best. “Yeah, that would’ve been all kinds of weird,” Nic agreed, giving a light smirk at the sight of Caleb in her shirt. “And I’m glad it didn’t go worse, really. If there’s no happy ending, let’s take the least shitty one we can, yeah?” she asked rhetorically before moving towards the door out of her room. “C’mon,” Nic beckoned, leaning a shoulder against the wall. “Alaska’s a long-ass way, so don’t even try saying you’re not hungry by now.”

"You're going to feed me?" Caleb asked, quirking a half smirk of his own as he started to obey, walking closer. "I came here for healing, I didn't expect anything else out of you." Even if his head had gone to different places that had nothing to do with healing. Which really, he needed to get in check again. Just seemed like lately it hadn't been at all, and nothing was helping it. Like when she got closer, and his eye was drawn to that spot on her neck he always used to mark.

“Well that just makes it easier for me to act impressive,” Nic shot back, flexing one arm mockingly as Caleb headed closer. “Besides, you deserve a reward for actually letting me get right to it this time. I think you’ve earned a burnt grilled cheese,” she went on, stepping away from the wall and studying the look Caleb was wearing. She could see hints of that narrow focus he got sometimes, the sort of thing that caused chaos for them, but Nic couldn’t make herself chase it off. “Maybe even some cold soup...” she added in a softer voice, stepping back towards the door.

"Thought the point of me showing here was making me feel better..." he teased, giving her a flash of his grin, one that generally only she saw. "And now we're talking burned things and cold things and...can we skip that? I'm not that hungry, and if I promise to eat something later, we could do something else. Like...watch a movie or something."

“Sure, sure, just flee from my cooking skills,” Nic relented with a wider grin, backing up to her door and tugging it open. “But yeah, you have to promise. And to pick a movie.” Which was an interesting proposal, a definite shot at trouble. “But no griping if I reek from my workout, deal?” If anything, it might’ve helped keep a touch of distance between them, something that showering definitely wouldn’t do.

"Cross my heart." he said, making the motion to X over his chest there. Which was possibly a morbid sort of gesture and promise, considering. But he wasn't actually overthinking it. "And The Evil Dead." he told her. "I'm positive you own it." He shoved his hands into his pockets, though it was a motion born more from the idea of keeping them to himself as opposed to anything else.

That suggestion drew a brighter look from Nic than it would from most women, a look more commonly seen with flowers, maybe, or at least a romantic comedy instead of a gory one. “You know me well, sir,” she answered playfully, starting to offer a hand before she saw Caleb tucking his away. “It’s actually one of my Sick Day movies from school, my mom would call me in, turn this on, and bring some soup. I’ll have to give you a full demonstration the next time you get the sniffles.”

"Cuz that happens." Caleb said. "How about next time I'm so injured I can't possibly be expected go get my own soup?" he suggested. Because it would happen. He knew it would. She knew it would. He did follow her though, aware she'd been about to take his hand, and it took a little willpower burn not to finish that for her. He walked past her in the hall, heading towards the living room. "If I didn't think you'd take advantage of me, I'd suggest a drinking game for it." he told her, tone playful.

“If you didn’t think I’d drink you under the table, you mean,” Nic challenged, letting him pass her by in the hall. “And then write on your face, which totally counts as taking advantage.” It was easier to not address the unspoken eventuality when they could talk like this, because eventually she knew he’d be right. Sooner or later he’d get seriously hurt, far beyond cuts and scrapes, but Nic wasn’t going to let herself dwell on it before it happened. “We’ll save that for a night at Dean’s, yeah? Because seriously, Thia’s just adorable with a few drinks in her.”

"I'm kinda sure you could drink everyone under the table." Caleb conceded, since it was likely true. It wasn't like he drank much, so he didn't have a tolerence. "...trying to picture Thia drunk is sort of like trying to imagine pixies drunk." he told her. "I'm sure it is adorable? But I'm not allowed to think that about my best friend's girl either, so I'll just smile, and nod, and assume you're an authority on the subject." he told her. "Isn't Dean a one beer guy too? I don't think it takes much for him to fall over drunk either."

He had Nic laughing as she followed him out, grabbing a movie case from the bookshelf. “He seriously is. When I took scars from both of them, by the end of it Thia was just giggling and Dean was starting to... you ever seen him smile at her like he thought no one was watching? He was doing that. And this was off of like one bottle of wine,” she recalled, snickering and moving to set up the movie. “But I’m probably a lightweight again anyway, I’m all out of practice and shit. I blame you,” Nic warned as she turned on the TV and moved to drop onto the sofa.

"Yeah, I have." Caleb said. "It's actually what sort of got me rooting for them in the first place. When we were in art class together, whenever he was talking about her he'd get this smile on his face. Like the world didn't suck so much or something, I don't know. Hell, after her funeral, I thought he'd hooked up with another chick because he was actually smiling again--should have known then it was her. He just doesn't look like that when it comes to anyone else." He didn't so much walk around the couch to sit on it as he dropped himself over the arm of it. "And why is this my fault?"

It felt good to just lounge on the sofa like that, like a glimpse of a simpler time. Or maybe more like a reward, given the drastic changes both of them had been through in recent months, both together and on their own. She’d worked hard to get here, he’d given up so much, so why not just relax for a minute? “Pretty sure that you were the one to finally give me shit about my drinking, and rightly so too,” she pointed out as the movie loaded up on-screen. “Hell, even using my scar spell left me a little smiley. I should be mad as hell with you, Lockwood,” Nic teased, nudging him with an elbow and stating up the movie.

He laughed, licking his legs over the arm of the couch, laying down with his head over towards her. "Whatever, you're not mad at me. You're never all that mad at me." He said this of course, with a big grin, a devilish sort of glint to his eye as he did so. He curled one arm beneath his head to prop it up, watching her from the upside down angle he had going on.

“There’ve been a couple of times, but mostly I’m mad when you’re right about something,” Nic admitted with a smirk of her own, reaching from her own sprawl to brush hair back from Caleb’s forehead. Glancing at the TV for an idle moment, Nic sighed as she settled a cheek on one forearm and glanced back his way. “Even when I am? It’s hard to stay mad. I prefer getting over myself and helping you pull all this crazy bullshit off,” she said with a slight laugh, settling more comfortably across from him.

He laughed a little. "Yeah, it's my cuddly side you can't resist." he told her, even if he was pretty sure he didn't have a cuddly side. "Or it's because you think I'm cute. There could be that." he decided, shrugging one shoulder. His eyes were sort of drifting back and forth between her and the screen, though possibly they were on her more than the tv. "But you do actually do a good job helping me pull off crazy bullshit. Maybe you are my little cosmic secretary." he mused, just waiting for her to take offense to the comment.

Half of a scandalous smile formed before Nic moved, curling tight on her side and springing up on the couch. She set her weight behind her knees, bracing them on Caleb’s shoulders as she grinned down at him from an inverted view. “I just got done practicing my three thousand year old assbeating techniques,” she warned, not putting any real force behind the pin just yet. “Say some more, cuddly boy.”

He jumped a little when she moved that fast--something that was wholly ingrained and automatic, though he didn't actually make any move to stop her. He instead looked up at her, liking that look in her eyes. "So far you're a very good secretary? Or are you going with 'personal assistant'?" he asked, entirely unable to keep the smirk off of his features.

“Still too dignified,” Nic insisted after a moment’s thought, “Just call me ‘His Girl Friday’ and get it over with.” She gave a resigned sigh before she looked back to Caleb, shaking her head. “Lucky for you, I know you won’t stop even if I whup on you, then I’ll just have to patch you up again and we’re back here all over again.” Plus, getting tangled up and aggressive meant Nic’d lose her control; even grinning down at him like this was tempting it more with every moment.

"You don't know it wouldn't work one of these times." Caleb told her, nodding. "It could. One day you could completely knock some sense into me." But then again this was the guy who deliberately tried to get that sort of reaction. He reached up without any sort of warning, tickling her side as much as he could from a rather disadvantaged point.

She flinched away from it, letting out a note of laughter before Nic grabbed for his wrist and reached to pin his other hand before it could join in. “I could. Then again...” Nic said, curling in to lean down towards Caleb. “This position? I could tell you it’s tough to get out of, and you’d just keep trying until you did. And it’s not even about that, really,” she pointed out with a wicked grin aimed in close to him. “You just like to set me off, because I stomp all over your personal space when you do.”

He had to laugh at that, and he did try to break the hold she had, though not hard enough to manage it. Though really, she did have him pretty barred there, so it was a testament to that as well. "Maybe sometimes I don't like my personal space." he told her, coming as close as he was able to admitting she was right there. Because she was. Spot on, really.

Holding against his resistance for a moment, Nic laughed as she shook her head. “I told you,” she teased, finally shifting off of him. Settling on her stomach, Nic propped her elbows up, hands settling past Caleb’s shoulders as she stretched out behind herself. “And I like it plenty. Mine’s pretty cool too, y’know. Especially when it tramples into yours. And....” she trailed off, reaching to tilt his head towards the TV. “Tree rape.” Nic laughed as she let go, settling with her head next to Caleb’s.

He might have said something, but he looked dutifully at the screen as she pointed out one of the more bizarre scenes in the film. "...really just never going to quite get over the whole tree rape thing. I mean...I see some fucked up shit all the time. But that is something that would terrify the living shit out of me. When the forest starts violating people, I'm done." he promised. He also sort of half shifted to get slightly closer, reaching up to rest the back of his hand against her arm. Maybe he was slightly cuddly when he wanted to be. Like nowish.

It hadn’t ever been a habit Nic joked about much, because really it was rare to see in Caleb outside of more heated times in their past, but she knew it when she saw it. “No camping trips, got it,” she joked quietly, shifting to accommodate Caleb’s inevitable slide in her direction. “And as hard as this movie rocks? I always prefer the chainsaw-hand. That’s how you deal with trees that get fresh.”

"There is something special about the chainsaw hand." Caleb agreed, absently drifting his hand back and forth against her skin. Nothing too overt, just a little touch. "And camping is a go just as long as trees haven't started showing up on the sex offenders registry." he said. "Not that I know where we'd camp. Or why we'd feel the need to. You ever do much of it? Like back in Wisconsin, or before I rolled in on your life?"

“A few times, but nothing more than a couple days, you know?” she answered, mindful of the passage of Caleb’s hand but not focusing on it yet. It was a draw, for sure, but she wasn’t in any rush to speed up Caleb’s habits. “I can set up a tent just fine, but I remember when my mom was going hunting once? She had this coffee can and I asked what it was for. Yeah, bathroom,” Nic explained, nose wrinkling up as she shook her head. “Pass on that. But at least I knew enough for when I went back. Maybe I should get myself a Brownie outfit and a sash.”

"Oh fuck no." Caleb said, shaking his head as he vetoed that immediately. "If you're dressing up, getting an 'outfit' of any kind, it's got to be something that I'd feel less creepy about appreciating on you." he told her. "Literally anything else would be fine. But not anything that has little girl connotations."

Nic’s head dipped up, a quizzical grin on her face as she studied Caleb intently. “I wasn’t planning on you seeing it, in my dream-scenario of it all,” she joked reassuringly, “Though it’s good to know you’ve got so much opinion already. I wasn’t planning on dressing up any time soon, but if you’re planning on bringing back a costume from some weird-ass country or something? I’ll do my best to roll with it.”

Caleb's eyes ticked back to hers instantly at that, and he flashed a grin. "Really." he said, tone clearly interested. "You shouldn't tell me shit like that, you know." he added. "You realize I'll keep it in mind, and then have to come up with something..." Which he fully intended to do now, when he never would have considered it previously. “Also, remember that you said it the way you did. The weirdest ass country ever is Japan, so....”

“And you realize that when I say ‘roll with it’ I mean I’ll break your camera on your phone first, then tell people about your fetish for whatever you pick,” Nic shot back. “So unless you actually are into Ultraman cosplay, choose carefully,” she warned with an edge to her smile, holding back from slugging and/or headbutting Caleb like she wanted to just then. All it took was one physical note with them, and as fun as that could be? She’d gone into this planning the total opposite, hadn’t she?

"Of everything I could choose to have you dress up as, Ultraman was not on the list." he promised, shaking his head as he glanced back towards the screen again. It took work--he would rather be looking at her, but he recognized when he was starting to blur lines, and he'd already been doing that. He probably needed to dial things the fuck back. "Now we could go for just like, any generic anime school girl..."

“Does it have to be anime? That shit hurts my brain,” Nic told him, propping an elbow under her and tucking it away behind Caleb as she leaned her head into her hand. “Which isn’t me saying I would wear a catholic school uniform or anything,” she teased in a lighter voice, keeping a pokerface as Nic forced herself to watch the TV screen. Was it unfair of her to taunt him in ways she’d be safe through? Probably, but Nic could handle word games right now.

"So you would skip right past the little sailor outfit and go for catholic school girl." Caleb noted. "...and what exactly would that entail? What's Nic's version of a catholic school girl?" he asked. "And if you were going to do that you'd really have to work on your innocent look..."

Nic snorted back a laugh, reaching to muss Caleb’s hair for a moment before she answered. “Something that involves pants?” she offered, “Kickboxer legs are strong, but they’re gross.” Which wasn’t going to work with Caleb, like most of her misdirects didn’t. “And I don’t know, I guess I’ve never given it too much time because of, you know, everything that’s not that retarded?” Nic posed with a grin. “But... spikes in there somewhere, I like spikes. If I’m wearing it for you, though, isn’t it more about your version?”

"No. Catholic school girls wear skirts, end of story. Otherwise it's not a catholic school girl uniform anymore. And shut up." he added, reaching up to pinch her shoulder. "I'm pretty sure I would have noticed by now if your legs were gross, and it never occurred to me, so fuck off." Then he paused. "...my version would definitely involve spikes." he decided.

Snagging his hand by the wrist, Nic kept it held for a moment, digging her nails into the underside a touch. “Less arguing about my body, more details so I know what I’m gonna get stuck in if you ever actually do this,” she ordered with a smirk. “Gotta hope we can come to some mutual ground here, yeah? We’ve already got a good start, even.”

Caleb grinned, liking that little bite of her nails. "Fine, mistress." he teased. "But okay. There's the skirt thing, the knee socks...those little black and white shoes? No idea what they're called. Some form of a sweater or something, and a white shirt. And a crucifix. And spikes, wherever you may feel like putting them. And can you do pigtails?" he asked, reaching up with his other hand to pull half of her hair up to try and picture it.

She could do pigtails, though Nic had never worn them in either life she’d lived. But the hand in her hair kept her from lingering on the thought, laughing brightly as she moved to catch his other hand. “Vetoing the hairstyle, Lockwood,” she insisted as she started to use some muscle, wrestling him for control of his own hands. “But I’ve already got the shirt and socks. Shame, really, most guys would call that a pretty good outfit all by itself,” Nic taunted with a grin.

"Aww, c'mon." Caleb said, definitely putting up a fight to try and get his hands back, though not quite hard enough to win. yet. "You'd be bored with most guys." he pointed out, grinning a little. That, before he shifted, twisting one hand around to grab her wrist instead. "I want to see the pigtails, and the whole outfit." he told her. "It just isn't right without the whole thing."

“And you’d be bored with a girl who just went for it,” Nic shot back, arm flexing as she put some muscle against his grip. She was damned strong, and maybe she could’ve pried his hand off? But this was a familiar game, and not always one about winning in the usual sense. “We’d have to make a day of it, no way could I face anyone else for like 24 hours after I put on a costume,” she teased, half-mocking without actually saying no.

It was possible he should have filtered his thoughts, not said what came to mind, but he didn't actually catch it fast enough. "Who says you'd even be available that soon if you did go with the costume?" he asked. Really not appropriate, not even a little bit. But it was out there and he didn't actually attempt to take it back. Instead he put a little more effort into trying to get the upper hand with their play-fight.

Nic laughed at that, a rich note of mirth at Caleb’s question. All at once she fell back on the sofa, pulling him with her as Nic tugged a bent knee between them, a little buffer she still had control over. “However much time you’d need? Double it so you can recuperate,” she told him with a wicked grin. “I couldn’t handle thinking I’d sent you off after all exhausted.” They both would be in this little scenario, so it was good that it was (probably) theoretical.

"I don't know." he said, happy to fall back with her there. He did take her wrist and held it down above her head, though. It didn't have a whole lot of force behind it, just the light warning that she wasn't going to move it unless he wanted her to. "It's all a gamble. I could be called up at any given moment to rush off to someplace I never heard of. If I have to go exhausted...oh well."

“You have a lot of demands and very little in the way of offers in kind,” Nic pointed out wryly, testing his grip as she wriggled her wrist. “I have to dress up a certain way, I can’t pick how much time we have... almost makes me wonder what I’d be getting out of this,” she asked lightly as she looked up at Caleb.

That had him grinning. It was part of what he liked about her. Nothing was ever too simple. It was a personality trait he could appreciate. "What would you want?" he asked her, rather hoping she had demands of her own. It would be something to play around with, if nothing else. Something nicely distracting.

Nic feigned a moment of thought, chewing her lip for a second before she pushed a deadpan expression on. “Soundtrack control, for starters. Catering, foot massage, an ice sculpture of two swans just nailing each other, and broadcast rights,” she tallied off, fingers on her caught hand poking up with each request. “Oh, and...” Nic trailed, leaning up towards him with her wrists still pinned. “I get to give you a tattoo.”

It was moments like these that Caleb wondered if he really just loved her. It was damn possible. He looked at her, and smirked, clearly incredibly amused. "What if we skipped the rest--besides soundtrack control, that's all yours--and we just go with the tattoo?" he suggested. "But nothing too ridiculous, like, say, for instance, two swans fucking."

“Deal,” Nic agreed as she struggled faintly, not really trying to break free so much, just fighting back a bit. “On one condition, which is you tossing in the next ‘Evil Dead’ so I don’t have to. Let’s marathon this shit, Lockwood,” she insisted with a light grin, settling beneath him. There were endless worse ways to spend a day, but were there many better?