ALL MIXED UP IN THE WASH — open

[torquemada]

[align=center][div style="width:490px; font-family:arial; font-size:9pt; text-align:justify"]It's easy to see that Ottawa is unable to relax. He's always tense, drawn into himself like a wind-up toy ready to spring. There's no way around the apprehensive glares he delivers to everyone and anyone passing him by, no way to avoid his hostility. He feels trapped by the people that try to so much as make small talk with him. He can't trust them, or even look them in the eye, and as he interacts with these people more and more, he begins to realize just how socially inept he is, just how distrusting he is... it builds up and it's awful. He's got no way to let off steam, to relax. Hell, even when he's asleep he's tense, ready to snap awake at a moment's notice like he's passed out in the midst of an ongoing war and not slumped against the wall in the corridor. He is just unable to relax or even take his mind off all the swirling thoughts in his head.

That is, until he finds something nestled in the snow. The sheer relief Ottawa feels when he finds a half-empty carton of cigarettes is like no other. Most of the ones that are in the carton are ruined either by the snow or just straight-up mangled, except for a few. He picks out the ones that haven't been ruined and haphazardly tosses it back into the snow where he'd found it, digs around in his pockets for a lighter or a match or something, and is honestly surprised when he comes up with something blue. Among his small impromptu arsenal stored in his pockets are several knives and other useless trinkets, so he's shocked that he didn't end up cutting his fingers and he's shocked that he'd actually managed to procure a lighter. Just because he has it doesn't mean it will work. Ottawa makes an attempt to light one anyway, just for the hell of it.

To his surprise, it works. Not well, after a few tries he manages to light the thing. He hasn't had a cigarette in years, and maybe that's a good thing, given that he shouldn't go and bring his addiction back to life. But he admits the familiar, awful taste calms him down some, and he turns on his heel to look back at the lodge in the distance, blowing smoke from his mouth. It's not quite enough to let his body relax but it's definitely something, and it works wonders the same as it had all those years ago. How had he gone so long without one of these? He guesses his mind was just focused on other things, but now he's grateful to have one of them in his hand.

[PETER M.]

[align=center][div style="width:500px;font-family:arial;font-size:9pt;line-height:1.1;text-align:justify;"]For Peter, relaxation is simple. Of course, he tends to become stressed easily, lacking the focus to actually pay his problems the attention they demand, and it sucks a lot out of him. But all he has to do to rid himself of just about all the stress is find his boyfriend—he knows Benjamin will hug him and take all the stress away. Unfortunately, however, Benjamin has been sick this week, meaning Peter has stuffed him into his bed and told him to stay put (not that the silver-haired Ace even remotely believes that's enough to keep the blind boy down if he wants to get up), and he doesn't want to risk getting sick. So he's missing his de-stresser as he approaches Ottawa, who he is well aware doesn't like him very much.

"Smoking can cause cancer, you know. And we don't have any treatments for cancer these days," he states matter-of-factly, shaking his head as if disappointed. "You're such a nice guy, too. It'd be a shame if we lost you to something preventable." As he speaks, he steps back, attempting to avoid the smoke. He doesn't care if he seems weird; he's paranoid about cigarettes, and he doesn't want that nasty shit that comes with secondhand smoke.

// this is crappy i'm sorrY

[torquemada]

[align=center][div style="width:490px; font-family:arial; font-size:9pt; text-align:justify"]Ottawa's eyes snap open, and as he looks up, offering Peter a rather incredulous look, he feels his brief moment of calm dissipate into thin air. He lets his hand fall back to his side, and sighs heavily, lacking the energy to offer Peter more than an unimpressed stare. He has half a mind to snap at him to bug off, because he doesn't quite care for the risks that smoking poses or whatever. It's just one, anyway, and one isn't going to suddenly make him hack up his own lungs. However he knows that eventually one will turn to two, two will turn to five, and he'll have fallen right back into the habit again. Even so, it's the least of his worries. "Neat," he grunts, huffing out a cloud of smoke. Ottawa doesn't care if he gets sick from smoking—it'd be gradual, anyway, and by the time he realized he was suffering he'd probably be close to death, anyway. Not to sound edgy, but he's not worried. What does make him raise his eyebrows is the way Peter calls him nice, but he thinks he's calm enough to avoid it wracking his brain. "Not going anywhere anytime soon."

The way Peter shifts away from him doesn't go unnoticed, but it isn't anything he'd comment on. He's glad, actually, that Peter is keeping his distance, because Ottawa doesn't quite care for his unwelcome... whatever, and part of him fears that maybe he'd go so far as to slap the cigarette out of his hand or start to reprimand him for smoking, rather than just inform him of the inevitable damage smoking will cause. "So, uh, don't, uh, worry about it." Real eloquent, he knows, but Ottawa has decided at the last minute to try not to seem so unwelcoming and agitated. He's got nothing against Peter, in fact he thinks the kid is funny in his own special way, he's just wary around him. He doesn't like to have attention called to him, but the incident at the meeting is something he can overlook, especially given the fact that this guy is supposed to be the boss around here, or something along those lines.

[BENJAMIN]

[align=center][div style="border:0px;width:450px;text-align:justify;line-height:1.1;font-size:8.5pt;"]Benjamin had been a bit like Ottawa when he'd joined. He'd certainly not been as hostile with his own distrust of the members of Flintlock, though, and he'd definitely softened up and trusted them a lot faster than the other man, but he can still sort of relate, in a way. He's just been here long enough that he can now accept Flintlock as being his home. These people are his friends. He can't at all see his groupmates as being dangerous, though perhaps Ottawa had gone through something very distressing to make him act this way toward strangers—either way, it's not really Benjamin's business. His life is his life, and if he doesn't want to talk to anyone, that's fine. If he doesn't feel safe here, that's fine. It's not Benjamin's responsibility to make sure that each and every member of this place gets along swimmingly, and as long as he's not going around stabbing people, then this is fine. If all he needs is a cigarette to do a little unwinding, cool. It's not his problem. What is his problem, though, is the smell of the damned thing, and it makes him stop in his trek through the snow and wave a hand in front of his face as he holds his breath. See, he'd gotten up just a little while ago, because he's feeling better today and damn it all if Peter thinks he's going to stay in bed and rest for any longer. He's tired of sleeping, tired of feeling like shit. He's more alert right now than he's felt in days, and that's what had led him out into the snow and away from the lodge, because he'd been planning on getting straight back to work after his week of being sick.

Silently, Benjamin works his way through a mental checklist of what he has to do today, absentmindedly tabbing his cane along the snow in front of him. He needs to check on the animals, water the plants, feed the dogs... But the bitter smell of cigarette and the familiar voice of his boyfriend had made him freeze, and here he stands, a shadow of black that sticks out like a sore thumb in the pure white snow. Ah, fuck. Peter doesn't want him outside. But... Well, the worst he can do is tell him to go inside. He knows he probably wouldn't physically force him back into his sickbed, especially because he's feeling a little bit better today. So, with an awkward, strained smile, Benjamin walks the rest of the way over to join Peter and Ottawa, slipping p beside Peter as sightless eyes focus somewhere onto Ottawa's face, but not on his eyes. His nose wrinkles slightly; the smell of the smoke is enough to bother him, but he doesn't comment on it like Peter had. He'd caught the tail end of the conversation, so he decides to go a different route—he does know that this guy has trust issues and can get salty rather quick, so he briefly loops his arms around Peter's, shifting his weight to one hip and raising his eyebrows. Might as well compliment him, right? "You're, uh... Part of the family, you know. Flintlock is a family," he says quietly, and though his voice is still vaguely scratchy, his words are clearly genuine. "Not saying you'll die, but. Just... So you know."

[ fucking. terrible post but i have 0 muse and i just. need to post rip ]

[torquemada]

[align=center][div style="width: 460px; text-align:justify;font-family:arial; font-size:9pt"]He's surprised to see Benjamin come trotting onscene a few minutes later, and even more so as he watches the Ace lock arms with Peter. Oh. So that's why those two are so... close. Ottawa just thought they were good friends, or something. It's not anything worth commenting on, he just raises his eyebrows and takes another drag of his cigarette, turning his head only slightly to the side to avoid blowing it in Benjamin's direction. Isn't he sick? He must be doing better, at least well enough to be roaming around in the cold. Ottawa at least has the decency to not blow smoke right in his face. He doesn't know why the two of them are suddenly ganging up on him—they're not, stop that—and it takes quite a bit of effort to keep his face more or less blank.

What Benjamin has to say quickly thwarts those efforts. Ottawa finds himself squinting, though he can't see his scrutinizing stare or puzzled expression. Family, he repeats quietly to himself. He already has one of those. They've all been scattered about and are off doing god knows what; in fact, he's only seen Chip around compared to the rest of his siblings, and it makes him hopelessly nervous. But it's a kind of sentiment he understands. He gets what Benjamin is trying to say, and decides it won't do him any good to act so... aggressive? Aggressive doesn't seem like quite the right word, but Ottawa admits he's more agitated than he should be. His face softens, and he heaves a sigh, which is then interrupted by a sudden, harsh cough, unintentionally proving Peter's previous point.

"Thanks," Ottawa mumbles, and his tone may sound insincere but he guesses he means it. He's not saying he'll ever trust these people, but he can always try to be a little less uptight around them, especially when given the fact that he doesn't know how long he's going to be here, or how they're going to treat him beyond this point. "...appreciate your concern." He's actually more annoyed by it than anything—he's heard the same lecture from countless people many times before, and it still doesn't deter him, but who is he to get mad if all they're doing is looking out for them? Then again, it could just be a ruse. They could just be trying to get him to warm up, to get him to take part in some awful upcoming scheme or something equally as ridiculous.

Before his mind wanders, Ottawa turns back to Benjamin, and quickly changes the subject. "You, uh, feelin' better?" Whatever's plaguing the lodge, he doesn't want it. He's never been one to lay down and rest during a cold or a flu, instead opting to tough it out and just deal, and it never works out for him, but he'd hate to be in a bed all day, tending to himself, or having Samsa occasionally check to see if he hasn't died, if the man would even bother to. That being said, he's no doctor, and can't exactly determine just how well Benjamin is doing by how he looks alone. He would imagine he's at least in a good enough condition to be outside, and if he isn't, then there's fuck-all Ottawa will do to change that.