souffle_girlek | (no subject)

Baze waits impatiently for the bots to open the door, still sniffly. He shifts back and forth on his feet, swaying in the hallway, and eyeing Oswin's biometric lock--a lock very similar to the one outside his and Chirrut's room, given that they patterned it after hers.

The bots lever open the door, and Baze steps through. "Oswin," he says, tempted to open his arms to her, but he can't, given the aforementioned kettle. "You're a peach. And I've eaten one today, so I know how awesome those are."

Oswin gets the kettle resettled on the burners and tosses the potholders on to the counter so she can hug this poor giant of a man.

"Clearly a lot of them, you're just too sweet for words. Now, off you pop, get settled on the couch and I'll bring over tea and scones."

Baze snuggles with her for a few lingering moments, and then does as instructed, settling his armored bulk on the couch. After a second or two of thought, he hits the release button on his armor and strips of the red carapace, setting it down on the floor next to the couch. If he's going to have a cuddle session--which he desperately needs, given the events of the day--he's not going to impede his cuddler by wearing armor.

"Thanks, Oswin. Come settle with me."

"Ooooh, mister impatient." Oswin chides teasingly as she carries over all of the necessary food and drink on a tray. "I'm coming, I'm coming, promise." The mugs rattle as she sets the tray down on a side table, and she braces her hands on her hips.

"Now, am I the cuddler, or cuddlee in this situation?"

"The cuddler, at first, maybe?" Baze says, rolling his unarmored shoulders in an expressive shrug. He feels exposed; maybe if she holds him, he'll feel less like he's about to fly out of his skin. "We can switch, right? Thanks, Oswin."

"Of course we can switch." Oswin assures him, curling up on her knees next to him and wrapping her arms around his frankly ridiculously big shoulders. She rests her chin on a muscular deltoid. "That better then?"

Baze leans into her embrace, closing his eyes. He rests his cheek on her temple, breathing in the scent of rose oil and cloves. "Much," he murmurs. "So, you saw what happened, right? Bodhi came to apologize and... didn't."

"Yeah, I saw - didn't have audio on that 'bot, sorry. By the way, tell your buddy to stop throwing grapes at my bots or I'll start throwing things back." She fails to specify what, exactly, she'd be throwing (mostly 'cause she hasn't worked out the mechanics yet), but it will surely be fearsome.

"Looked like it was pretty horrid."

"Well," Baze says, and stops. He's unsure of how much she knows, what with her little 'bots watching everything, and how much he should tell her. He decides to start at the beginning.

"You know Bodhi--he was our pilot, back on Scarif," Baze says, his voice choked with regret, and sorrow. "We fought together. We died together. We were friends, of a sort. Comrades. Then Chirrut and I came here, and found an Imperial named Galen Erso, and beat on him, for reasons which are our own. Turns out he's Bodhi's lover."

He licks his abruptly parched lips. "Chirrut and I aren't going to apologize for that. We're not. But things escalated from there. Bodhi accused Chirrut of wanting to shoot the boy's cats. And then he apologized to me, sort of, and we cuddled. I thought we'd reconciled. Today, he came to us, and said he wanted to apologize, but when we told him that wanting to apologize isn't an apology and that he'd actually have to say the words, he told us we don't have the moral high ground because of what we did to Erso."

Baze pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's such a mess."

"And you just wanted to cuddle him some more, I'm guessing." Oswin grins, shifting so she can start finger-combing out his tangled hair. "Admit it, I'm just a proxy now, aren't I?"

"Pretty darn good looking proxy if I do say so myself."

"You are easier on the eyes than Bodhi, I'll admit," Baze says, a smile coming to his face despite the roiling emotions twisting his gut. He's still sad, and disappointed, and so, so angry. Guilt thrums through his veins, making him feel heavy and distended. Despite what Chirrut says, Baze still believes that if only he'd spoken more gently, then Bodhi wouldn't have thrown that fit. Baze is not--and never is--sure about how to deal with feeling so many things at once, and so intensely.

He closes his eyes, trying to draw cleansing breaths through his nose. Oswin's playing with his hair is just lovely; he focuses on that, rather than all of the other stuff that's so overwhelming.

"Yes, I just wanted to cuddle him. He looked like he needed a cuddle. He was so nervous--and for good reason, apparently: Chirrut was frosty as hell," Baze says, sighing. "Which is completely understandable; the last time he saw Bodhi, he accused him of wanting to obliterate Bodhi's cat with a lightbow. As if Chirrut would shoot an innocent creature!"

"Maybe it wasn't time for apologies yet. Sounds like he was pretty angry." Oswin notes as she gently teases apart knots and straightens out wild curls, stubbornly keeping the worry out of her voice. Anger... is not a good emotion for her.

She makes a mental note to stay the hell away from Bodhi for a while.

Baze practically purrs under her touch, melting at her fingertips. He loves having his hair played with, and he didn't know until she started doing it. He makes an inelegant noise, somewhere between a groan and a grunt, and brings his hands up to her tresses to return the favor.

"Maybe. You're probably right," Baze says, pursing his lips. "Chirrut said that Bodhi's death must be very unpleasant, what with all the anger he's clinging to. It's entirely possible that he was ready to apologize to me, but he wasn't ready to apologize to Chirrut, for whatever reason. Why would Bodhi not like my friend? He's very lovable."

"Anger is... corrosive. It's possible he isn't even thinking straight." Oswin supposes she sounds very ephemeral, but... she's seen what rage can do to a species.

No thank you.

"Humans are known for getting better from that sort of thing." She assures Baze as she starts working his locks into tiny braids.

Baze drags his nails gently across her scalp, scratching in small circles. "I just wish... Maybe, if I'd been gentler, he wouldn't have been upset," he says, blowing air out of his lungs in a gusty sigh. "Is it my fault? He started out wanting to apologize, and then changed his mind as soon as I spoke."

"If his apology depended on how nice the person he's apologizing to is, it wasn't a very determined apology." Oswin points out wryly. "Apologies tend to be given to very cross people."

"Which Chirrut sort of was," Baze says, agreeing with her logic. He runs his fingers through her soft hair, luxuriating in the feel of it. "If Bodhi had only said the words, 'I'm sorry,' rather than just telling us that he wanted to, Chirrut would have accepted that. He would have welcomed Bodhi back with open arms, and we'd be cuddling right now rather than me being here bitching at you."

He draws his hands away from her head to clench his fists, and grits his teeth. "Damn it. Why do relationships have to be so difficult?"

Edited 2017-08-04 07:21 (UTC)

"Because they're filled with people." Oswin laughs, "And we like to be complicated." She undoes the braids she already started, and instead makes larger braids.

Baze unclenches his fists, and wraps his arms around Oswin's slender waist. He leans his cheek on her sternum, blowing a raspberry. "Ugh. People. It'd be so much easier if I were a hermit."

This is a lie. Baze wouldn't be able to survive a week alone, and he knows it.

"Oswin. What does it mean when someone wants you to kiss them properly?"

"Awww, mister grumpy, none of that. If you were a hermit you couldn't have this." Oswin admonishes, tugging on his ear before going back to playing with his hair.

"... Someone really said that? Wow. Means they're either an asshole 'cause they're being pushy... unless you were asking for pushy, but i know you weren't, so asshole. Anyway, that, or someone who doesn't get out much and doesn't know how to appreciate a wide range of kisses. Either way, run, don't walk."

Baze laughs, but his heart's not in it. "I'm trying to forgive the asshole in question, but it still bothers me," he admits, lifting one unarmored shoulder in a shrug. "Sinric--do you know Sinric? He peeked into Chirrut's head without permission when we first came here, and he, too, refuses to apologize. Then she--well, he, rather--chose a female form for Cubefall, and pretended to be someone he wasn't, so we could cuddle. He did say he was sorry for that, so I... I'm trying to forgive and forget, but it's more difficult than I anticipated."

Edited 2017-08-04 07:47 (UTC)

Oswin doesn't like liars, people who say one thing and do another, foes with a friend's face.

But where, where Oswin did you get the milk?

Oswin sits abruptly straight, forcing herself to breathe like Alana showed her, to try and keep it from spiraling out of control.

I'm sorry, Oswin. But You. Are. A DALEK.

It... sort of works. Better than other things. Better than just panicking. Ugh. Brains.

This... This is new. And unsettling.

Baze has seen people struck with terror before. He's seen the glazed look in people's eyes that shows, unequivocally, that they're elsewhere, that they're reliving awful things.

He sees that in his friend now.

"It's not real, Oswin," Baze says, trying to keep his voice level, measured, to pierce the fog surrounding her brain. He opens his arms, letting her come to him, if she so chooses. "It's not real, and I'm here with you. What can I do to help you right now?"

She breathes, carefully, and listens to the voice with an accent she never encountered in her old life. She lets the more posh voice float away to whatever dark hole it's living in. She knows it'll be back, it just... needs to go away now.

"Give me a hug?" She asks, swallowing down the reflexive disclaimer where it can't find the light of day. She leans into him, borrowing his warmth.

Edited 2017-08-04 08:14 (UTC)

Baze still has no idea what set her off. Was it a discussion of Sinric's telepathy? He can see how that might have been a trigger. What about his own irritation? That might have scared her.

Whatever the reason, Baze knows he'll have to limit his bitching in the future. He can't stand to see his friends in pain, and if he can do anything to prevent that, then he'll do it, come hell or high water.

He immediately folds Oswin into his powerful arms, tucking her against his chest and resting his chin on her head. He leans back on the arm of the couch, carrying her with him. Snuggling is something Baze is good at, having practiced and enjoyed it, so he does his best to hold her now.

"I'm sorry," he says, muffled by her hair.

"Not your fault." Oswin replies, melting into his hold, quite content to stay where she is now. "You've gotten the broken model, I'm afraid. Bit more patched up than before, but... not terribly sturdy." This cuddling is actually ideal. She can hide her ashamed flush against his overalls and no one has to know.

Baze could joke, could tell her that he likes repairing things, but there are several problems with that. First, this isn't a joking matter. Secondly, she's not a thing. And, finally, the most important fact: her hurts are impossible for him to fix, try as he might. It's not his responsibility to fix her, either, but he wishes he could ease her pain somehow.

Cuddling will have to do, and that, he can provide.

"Well, I don't mind broken models," Baze murmurs, stroking her back. "And like it or not, you're stuck with me. I'm in it for the long haul."

Baze is here. He always will be.