You know, we're back in the conversation we started yesterday. What makes a man a man, a gangster a gangster, or a king a king.
[His tea is finished, so he reaches over to trade it for Omar's, before settling down with his back against the side wall, so they can both lean up, but still see one another, with Omar against the headboard.]
What part of what I said made you feel you were giving up your crown?
A, I get enough of that from my warden. And B, it be like... seven in the morning, and I already had more than enough hold-a-mirror-up-to-yourself moments for one day, a'ight?
[He leans back against the headboard and rubs his eyes tiredly.]
[He reasons, but leans over, to set it back on the dresser, and then slinks down, curling half draped over Omar's lap, distinctly acquiescing. The upshot to philosophy in bed is that when it's time for a topic change or to back off, he has an easy excuse to show a comforting and distinct amount of throat.]
Then you'd be as ready and raring to go as I am, tackling all the problems in the universe at once. Think you could sleep a little more?
[He hadn't meant it as a request for alone time at first. They could go for breakfast, he'd thought. When Ricki says that, though, he realizes it probably really is a better idea. He could use a minute to clear his head and start the day over again.
Instead of correcting him, then, he pulls him up for a kiss, quick and sweet, just an affirmation of sorts before he gets up to go. He never actually answered Ricki's question, but let that stand for his answer: he's leaving, but not leaving, and that means that right now Ricki is still very worth having.]
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[Although to be fair, he hadn't known about that knife-throwing thing, which sounds worryingly specific. But still, the point remains.
...Under the bed, apparently.]
The king just don't give up his crown all that easy.
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[His tea is finished, so he reaches over to trade it for Omar's, before settling down with his back against the side wall, so they can both lean up, but still see one another, with Omar against the headboard.]
What part of what I said made you feel you were giving up your crown?
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Don't go on 'bout how smart you are and then play dumb with me, boy.
[Pause.]
Ricki. Point is, you don't need me to tell you that.
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Come on, throw me a little rope here, what can it hurt?
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A, I get enough of that from my warden. And B, it be like... seven in the morning, and I already had more than enough hold-a-mirror-up-to-yourself moments for one day, a'ight?
[He leans back against the headboard and rubs his eyes tiredly.]
Let it be some, Ricki.
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[He reasons, but leans over, to set it back on the dresser, and then slinks down, curling half draped over Omar's lap, distinctly acquiescing. The upshot to philosophy in bed is that when it's time for a topic change or to back off, he has an easy excuse to show a comforting and distinct amount of throat.]
Then you'd be as ready and raring to go as I am, tackling all the problems in the universe at once. Think you could sleep a little more?
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Need to get out this bed, really. Go for a bowl of Honey Nut -- or something more substantial than some weak tea and a pack of sugar, anyway.
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[He says, so very fondly. Let this never be a relationship where eithr of them is punished for needing space.]
I'll see you soon.
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Instead of correcting him, then, he pulls him up for a kiss, quick and sweet, just an affirmation of sorts before he gets up to go. He never actually answered Ricki's question, but let that stand for his answer: he's leaving, but not leaving, and that means that right now Ricki is still very worth having.]