logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: COTTON CANDY HEARTS

Entry tags:

EVENT LOG: COTTON CANDY HEARTS

characters: everyone.
location: amusement park.
date/time: august 17 - 31.
content: time to enjoy a little time at the carnival!
warnings: n/a. please use cw tags as needed.

oh come, take my hand, and run through playland...

It's clear in the past two days of fevered work, the spirits are up to something. Collecting rainbow wigs and pinstriped jackets, gathering food and preparing decorations. There's no getting them to reveal the secret, though — any attempt to ask only results in an ominous gesture of silence. However, characters won't have to worry about what the spirits are up to for too long, as on the start of the 17th each and every resident of Beacon will be delivered a note, inviting them to come out and enjoy themselves at the Amusement Park.

ALL FUN AND GAMES.

Over the last few days, some of the food tucked away in the General Store, The Invincible's stock room, and the kitchens of The Landmark may have gone missing - but not to worry, because here it is, all stocked at little booths within the amusement park, ready for sampling! The enticing aromas of fried batter and sugar wafts through the air, no matter where you are in the park. Find old favorites, from funnel cakes to fried pickles, popcorn to whole turkey legs - or try something new! Ever had a corn dog wrapped in curly fries? How about a deep fried peanut butter and jelly sandwich on a stick? One spirit, currently chewing on a crispy battered pine cone, even offers a unique suggestion - bring it anything you like and it will deep fry it for you. You do have to eat it, though, that's the catch, or the spirit will be very irate and might take something of yours later to deep-fry and leave on your pillow. Don't waste good food!

At the end of the row, tables have been covered in classy checkered red-and-white tablecloths, and piled with ingredients, and it looks like ovens formerly belonging to some ruined village housing have been dragged all the way out here and plugged in, and are now waiting and ready. There's flour (all purpose, pastry, chickpea, and others, and - no, that's just a pile of sand on that plate), plenty of butter and sugar and spices, all sorts of summer fruits, and more. It's a pie making contest! The judge is the Lunch Lady spirit, who hmms and ahhs and ohhhhs wisely as they pace back and forth along the tables, observing the pies being made and occasionally taking tiny little samples with tiny little forks when the pies are baked. How will they decide the winner? That's their secret, for now!

But their delicate little tasting session has left the pies mostly unscathed, which means it's time for the pie eating contest! A rowdy quartet of squirrel-like spirits cheers everyone on who wishes to participate, and they squeak and chatter at participants, bringing pie after pie after pie directly to whoever walks over. How many can you get down?

If food isn't your style, though, carnie spirits host a number of games scattered throughout the park. They whistle and wave you over, jump on your shoulder if small or yell at you with animated limbs from above if quite tall, urging in their musical tones for anyone and everyone to come on down and give the games a try! Toss balls at a set of colorful stacked bottles, and see how many you can knock down in a single throw, with candy and costume jewelry for rewards. Fling a ring into a booth and land it around the head of the stuffed animal you want to win, if your aim is good enough. There's even a duo dunk tank set up - over a large tub, two chairs are suspended, each with an attached bucket of softballs and a target over the head of the chair. You and a friend get to climb in and see who can dunk who first!

MUST BE THIS TALL TO RIDE.

A carnival isn't a carnival without some rides to test your bravery with, is it? Past where the food booths and skill games are set up, there are a selection of them set up, all providing various levels of thrills. There's a roller coaster, of course, that's been constructed of wood and makes a loud rattling noise as it drives you through the loops and hills. There's also a tilt-a-whirl, a gravitron, and a log flume, if you're still feeling the effects of the heat wave.

For those less interested in thrill seeking, there are also slightly tamer rides, like the bumper cars, a ferris wheel, and the tunnel of love. All of these rides have the innate feeling of danger that you'd find at any theme park or carnival, but they operate quite safely, albeit with some creaking.

COTTON CANDY HEARTS.

Away from the fun and excitement, the Fun House has also come back to life. There's something a great deal more ominous about it than the rest of the celebration, however — in fact, spirits will actively attempt to steer residents away. However, those determined to explore can still find their way inside.

To start, it doesn't seem that abnormal. A mirrored maze, flashing lights and creepy music. However, as they travel through the mirrored halls, they'll notice something. Their reflection doesn't necessarily follow their movements. Actually, it seems like it is trying to get closer. Maybe that isn't their reflection at all?

Trapped and lost in the maze, eventually the reflections will become full-fledged matching doppelgängers of any character that entered. It's hard to tell the difference between the fake and the actual thing, though the doppelgängers will not speak, only chase — and chase aggressively. They will grow more and more aggressive in trying to reach their double, willing to go through potential distractions if they have to. Cutting them down seems ineffective at best; as long as there are reflections, the doubles will keep coming, growing more and more bloodied as they "die". Ultimately, they will not stop until characters exit the maze or they reach their exact match.

As they reach their match, they will reach out and grab their heart. Literally, hand through the chest and everything. It's as excruciatingly painful as it sounds. The doppelgänger will smile a demented, satisfied grin, and disappear immediately after without a trace. Any character that got nabbed by their double will suffer from lantern malfunctions for the rest of the event. You're more than welcome to pick what malfunction and to what extent!

FIND YOUR FORTUNE

Characters that have braved wandering outside the relative warmth and activity of the the celebration will find the rest of the amusement park still a little grim. Dark, worn down, abandoned. Plenty of the rides seem ominous at best and dangerous at worst. In their searching, characters are likely to happen upon a fortune teller lingering in the shadows.

If they are brave enough to approach, they'll find there is no need for a coin. Upon spotting them, the fortune teller will creak into motion, offering a spiel in a slightly monotone robotic voice. It's a little unnerving, though what is the worst a robotic fortune teller can really do?

Well, it turns out, every fortune the fortune teller provides always comes true. Some of them are harmless, like a prediction that they will win their next game of darts or find a cherry in their blueberry pie. Some will get far more grim fortunes, that they will find glass in their next drink or that they will step on a nail. Worst of all are fortunes that essentially force a character to do what they would normally wouldn't, like confessing a dark secret to the next person they see.

While you are welcome to make up your fortune, you are also able to put your character's name here to get a mod-generated fortune. There will be potential clues for future explores in these fortunes, though there is also a chance of receiving something else, such as an injury or a strange happenstance. No one will receive death in their fortune!

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Kinda sounds good. Mind if I try one? I'd offer a trade, but all I've got is a half-eaten ear of corn," he says, grinning wide. "Probably not very appetizing. I could go win you a stuffed animal, though."

Is he boasting about his ring toss skills? Maybe. When he's not prone to fumbling things he does have excellent aim.

Will blinks. Stuffed animal? Why would he want that? Is... is Rosinante offering to show off for him? That's... unusual.

What's perhaps more unusual is the powerful temptation to let it happen.

It's been a good while since Will's had any sort of attention like this, and he won't deny that it feels nice, having someone want to show off for him, or really to impress him in any way. But it's also coming from Rosinante, who doesn't normally act this way. Is something happening here? Is he being too paranoid? Reading too much into things? Overthinking this?

Yes, probably. Does he even want this sort of attention from Rosinante?

"You can have a few." He holds out a handful. "No trade needed, though now that you've made the offer, I am curious to see if you could pull it off."

There, that's a middle ground, right? No.

"'Course I can," he says with a chuckle as he takes the beans, then pops one into his mouth. Hm. Yeah that's... still a pretty hard crunch, but could be worse. He takes a moment to try and determine if the deep frying really makes a noticeable difference or not, but it's hard to say.

"Maybe with a side-by-side comparison... Between fried and not fried, I mean," he says, because he realizes a bit late that he's started speaking his thoughts out loud without any context.

"It's the damned fortune teller. Made me say whatever comes to mind," he explains as he crunches on another bean, then waves for Will to come along as he starts toward the ring toss. "Which I know you'll probably take advantage of now that I've said that, but I guess fair's fair after that one time at the night market."

That's... well, that's a lot to unpack. Will isn't quite sure where to start until Rosi says that last bit.

"What do you mean 'that one time at the night market'?" He gives Rosinante a sidelong glance. He thinks he knows what he means, but there's more to it here than just that time you got high and rambled at me. Now there's intent.

He's not mad, at least he doesn't think he is, not yet, but he is... suspicious.

"Just that you told me a lot of what's happened to you," he says with a shrug, smile fading on account of it being a rather unpleasant, unfortunate tale. "And I don't - I guess it doesn't seem fair? Equal? That all this time I still haven't told you or anyone else here much about me. You know more than most, of course. You found that opal. And I'm - shit, I'm sorry, I'm still trying to work out how to get ahold of myself instead of saying every word that pops into my head. I think I can stop it sometimes if I focus."

Wow, he derailed himself, that's something. Where was he? Does it matter? Maybe right now is in fact a good time to clamp his mouth shut and have a look at the ring toss prizes.

That... sure is impressive. Will is pretty used to saying whatever comes to mind, but that's still filtered through what he thinks he can get away with and what he's willing to admit to. This is just pure, unadulterated thought-vomit. Fascinating.

"Well, it isn't as if I never noticed you weren't sharing." He figured that Rosinante had his reasons. He has his own, after all, he just... sometimes loses track of them. "I didn't consider it an exchange, when I was actively considering it at all." So basically, when he wasn't just too high to care.

"Still, if it bothers you, you're free to share whatever you like." He wants, so badly, to take advantage of this situation. Which is a rough thing to admit, but he's guilty of worse. It would be easy to just ask a few leading questions here and there, maybe even direct ones. It's not like Rosi can stop himself right now.

But Will can. And it's a testament to how much he actually cares for Rosinante that he does stop himself, doesn't just turn this into an interrogation, as much as he wants to.

He's being given an option? A choice? "That's... kind of you," he says with a soft chuckle. "I don't know what I want to say, though. A lot of what I've been through isn't exactly pleasant. Might save it for another time when we're not in the middle of a carnival where I'm about to try and throw a ring around a stuffed animal half your size."

And from up here he can't actually see into the entire booth easily. Nothing, not a single thing, is ever made quite right to suit his height here. So instead he sinks down on his knees, and that helps a good amount.

"Maybe I'll ask you a question instead," he says abruptly as he reaches for a ring. "I keep meaning to. Um. I - Can I call you Will? Instead of 'Dr. Ingram'?"

He sneaks a glance at Will beside him, closer to his own height now, then pretends to study the prizes again because maybe he'll blush less if he does that. "I feel really dumb asking that," he says aloud as his thoughts rush back out his mouth unhampered.

Oh. That... oh. Now it's Will's turn to look flustered, because this is an incredible oversight. He and Rosinante have been casual with one another (close? friends?) for quite some time now, but it just never occurred to him to address the switch from formality to familiarity. Possibly because no one's ever really made that switch before.

And now he's not sure which thing he's more embarrassed about: not knowing how to deal with having friends, or forgetting to let the only one he has call him by his first name.

"Of course." He's aiming for something dismissive, but he misses the mark by a bit. He's caught off guard, there are too many surprises here. Someone bothered to ask first instead of presuming. Someone cared enough to ask. How is it that he's able to easily navigate a brief, physical encounter, but an actual personal connection completely throws him? At least, it does for a moment. And then, quite suddenly, it doesn't.

"Don't feel stupid, I probably should've said something before. My apologies." The words come without him even thinking about it. Uncharacteristic in several ways, that, but for some reason he isn't concerned. It just feels like the right thing to say. As if he, of all people, should know the right thing to say.

He wonders briefly if that fortune teller did something to him, too.

The simplest things make him happy. This is one, clearly, as he ducks his chin a little and smiles in relief, and in the very basic joy of having someone care. "Thanks," he says simply, for even right now it's hard to form the concepts of warmth and companionship into words.

"Now, let's see," he says as he refocuses his attention on the plush prizes. "What's a good Will animal? A penguin? They look proud. Or... Is that supposed to be a lion back there?"

This is not intended to be accurate commentary on what animal represents Will, of course - the selection is limited to the familiar sort of creatures that probably are not found out in space, as well as a few with some unusual twists, like the spirits found damaged toys from residents long-gone and attempted some wild surgery to patch the holes. So the "lion" is really just the large tawny catlike head on the body of what might be a gorilla with snakes for arms.

"You know what, I like that one. Looks like a challenge," he decides. He flexes his wrist with the ring in hand to try and gauge how it might fly, then gives it a toss. The ring is flimsy and lightweight - intentionally made not to fly perfectly straight, for how would this be a good carnival game if it was as easy as it looks? - but the force with which it's thrown seems to help reduce the wobble. The lion's head is a little too large for the ring to settle around entirely, but it snags on an ear, and manages to hang there without falling.

The attendant carnie spirit, something lemur-like with a long grassy mask that might itself resemble something maned, hoots and whistles and claps. As it swings its way arm over arm across the ceiling of the booth toward the not-lion, Rosinante turns to Will with a shrug and a half-smile. "I guess I- just..."

He starts, and stops quickly, practically biting his own tongue to keep it from derailing what he wanted to say. He's trying to be cool and smooth and casual and now is not the time to blurt out stupid things about how he likes being here with him. But fighting it gets harder and harder.

"You - want to try?" he manages instead, and offers Will a ring.

"A penguin?" He sounds amused and confused all at once. Does he really resemble a penguin? If he had to pick an animal for himself, he'd pick... well, he doesn't know, really. He hasn't spent enough time around any of them. Maybe a rat, some part of him thinks. Small but tenacious. Able to survive anywhere.

But alas, there aren't any rats on offer.

There is, however, a large... crow? Some sort of plush bird head sticking out of a mass of what look very much like real foraged feathers from the forest floor. It's squat and round, but there's no denying who it makes him think of.

"Well, hand-eye coordination isn't exactly my strong suit, I'll admit. Not something you develop, living in the confines of space stations." A very common problem for colony-born people, actually. But just to humor Rosinante, Will does take the plastic ring and sort of halfheartedly tosses it in the vague direction of the feathery blob.

It circles the beak perfectly. Will blinks in confusion as the lemur-spirit claps wildly and swings off to retrieve the (quite possibly lice-infested) prize.

"That... hm. Random chance, I'm sure." He is not sure.

"Or you're secretly just really skilled," he replies with a grin while watching the spirit now try to struggle back with both prizes under its arms.

"I'd believe it. You're fast with a knife. And no, I guess you're not much like a penguin," he continues on as his mouth just keeps on flapping more or less against his wishes. "I just thought, because they look proud and they're always well-dressed. But maybe you're more of a cat, since you do what you want and because I'd rather pet a cat than a penguin and Iiii've said too much," he realizes, mildly horrified he wasn't able to stop himself in time for that one. He slaps himself with a very belated calm and just breaks down, silently laughing in compete and utter embarrassment.

Well, whatever, fuck it. Speaking of cats, sometimes they get out of bags in the dumbest possible ways. Petting a cat doesn't even sound even a little bit cool or sexy or anything he could have gotten across, it just sounds fucking stupid, and now he's narrating all of this out loud but at least nobody can hear him say it.

Will is about to come back with a haughty remark about how his skills are anything but secret, but then Rosinante just keeps on going and going and then they're past the point of no return.

At first, he just sort of blinks in confusion, trying to make sense of that statement. His usually quick mental process is temporarily slowed by the lack of any rational metaphors. I'd rather pet a cat than a penguin. Meaning that Will is more like a cat because a cat is an animal that Rosi would like to touch. That's... hmm.

In other contexts, in other places, with other people, he might follow that remark with something a little more capably flirtatious and, quite frankly, vulgar. But this situation is just so absurd and ridiculous, and Rosinante is already giggling himself sick, and Will can't help but lose his typical composure in a burst of unrestrained laughter.

He surprises himself, bringing a hand up as if to cover his mouth, but he doesn't stop. He kind of can't, at this point. It's not even the mocking sort of laughter; this is rare and pure amusement. He barely manages to get out a sentence through it.

"What the hell is that even supposed to mean?"

Will laughing might be just about the most charming thing he's ever witnessed, he realizes. It's partly the unexpectedness of it, but also the way it softens his features. It's nice seeing Will so happy. Will should be happy more often.

When he finally manages to regain his composure, he sighs and releases the silence from him, possibly against his better judgment, but judgment isn't really operating normally right now. Nor is his brain, and most of his thoughts can't really translate into words.

"I, uh. Dunno," he says, still grinning, sort of blushing from his own idiocy more than anything else. He looks toward the ground, shakes his head, then over at Will again. "You look good. That's - what I mean."

At which point he has to basically mentally wire his jaws shut before he follows it up with more, but that dam won't hold forever.

Will's laughter ends on a cough, probably because he hasn't really done it in a while, the same way that talking hurts after a long period of isolation. And laughter isn't the only thing he hasn't done in quite some time... Rosinante's follow-up, that flush in his cheeks, it makes the mind wander a bit.

How long, he wonders, has he been missing these cues? Did they even exist before? Does he even want them to?

"Is that so?" He's terrible at comforting people, and making nice, and all sorts of other common social interactions. But this, this he has experience with. It's not even a conscious choice, really, he just sort of naturally slides into a role he's played so many times he lost count.

He straightens, crosses his arms, and gives Rosinante a bit of a subtle once-over, bottom to top. "You're not so bad yourself."

The tone is playful enough that it could be mistaken for a joke, in case he needs an out, but— god what is he doing, this is insane. Is he actually flirting? Why? Does he want that to go anywhere?

It's a rare moment that Will Ingram doesn't know what he wants, but then, this is indeed a rare moment.

By this point he thinks his smile might be permanently engraved on his face. He hadn't completely expected Will to go along with this, though obviously he had hoped. He stands there a moment, slouched slightly as if that does anything significant to minimize their height difference, and keeps his eyes on Will while taking in what he'd just said. Okay, nothing groundbreaking as compliments go, but those have been few and far between in his life and coming from someone he likes, it carries a lot more weight than it might have otherwise.

Yes, he does like Will. He's able to admit that to himself. Took a while to realize, though.

And now he has to do or say something more than just admiring, because he doesn't want this to fizzle out. His heart is absolutely racing, but he ignores it as he makes a conscious decision to act. He reaches forward and settles a hand on Will's shoulder, then combs his fingers upward against the back of his head through his hair.

"'Not so bad', huh?" he echoes, and while he'd love for it to sound teasing, it maybe does come across more like he's actually seeking reassurance, thanks to the dumb fortune teller ripping away his ability to actually think before he talks.

"Your hair's really soft," he says, which. Is also not what he would have chosen to say next but that's what's on his mind. That, plus, "And... your eyes are really blue."

Oh, he's already kicking himself mentally as he dips his chin and shakes his head, laughing again. Sure is a good thing they're just out in the middle of the amusement park where anyone walking by can witness how much of a moron he currently can't help being.

The touch sends a jolt down his spine, even before there are fingers in his hair. It's not as if Will is averse to touch, but here in Beacon, he's rarely let anyone close enough to put a hand on him, good-intentioned or otherwise. There's a tiny spark of fear, but it gives way quickly to something else entirely.

The compliments are childish at best, but the sentiment behind them is clear, and god has it been so long since someone looked at him with anything resembling desire. It's a bit startling, really, how much he enjoys this simple gesture, how much he wants more.

He shouldn't be doing this, he knows. He's managed two years of abstinence in this place where trust comes at a premium. But they do trust each other, don't they? He doesn't like to dwell on it, but if push came to shove, he knows he could rely on Rosinante for just about anything. And more importantly, that he would.

This isn't dangerous. He can have this, can't he?

"Tell me more." His voice is softer now, and he's not entirely sure it's intentional. Technically this could still just be playful joking, but it certainly doesn't sound like it.

Somewhere in the background a spirit is probably scolding them for not coming to pick up their prizes, but Rosinante isn't aware of it. For one of those rare moments his full attention is on Will before him and nothing else in the world matters.

One of the many reasons he's never particularly sought out a relationship. Dangerous stuff in his line of work. But Beacon remains safer than his own world in so many ways, when it comes to the people around him.

This slouch is eventually going to cramp his neck, so he sinks to his knees, putting their faces almost at the same height - and actually, it's fun to look up at Will just slightly. His fingers continue to move, tangling in his hair and then tracing up against the back of his head, and down the nape of his neck.

"Well," he says, "You're one of the smartest people I think I've ever known. I love watching you work, how you get so serious and focused on what you're doing. Problems aren't just problems, they're puzzles, and you're so good at solving them. You get this look, when you concentrate, and then you light up when you figure it out..."

His left hand is feeling useless, so he settles that one against Will's back lightly. "I want to hold you but I'm not sure I'm allowed to," he says as his thoughts once again just jump out of his mouth before he can stop them.

Oh, this is lovely. The flattery, the proximity, the gentle touching for touching's sake. Will's missed it for even longer than he realized. Without much thought, he lets his hands wander out, softly cupping Rosinante's face, one thumb brushing over his lips.

He can't waste this, but he doesn't want to rush it either. He's sure the chance won't present itself so easily again. He's got to maneuver this carefully, to push things gently forward to the desired end.

But then... what is the desired end, here?

Back home, this scenario always led to one thing, and he's reasonably certain that if he plays his cards right, he could get it here. But back home, all of his physical encounters with others were nothing more than fleeting and hollow. A way to scratch an itch. A means to an end. Just something he did to pass the time, because it was fun and it felt good and it didn't mean anything.

This means something, doesn't it?

Will studies Rosinante's face. His eyes, and the unbridled delight shining behind them. Rosinante wasn't just talking about Will's appearance, he was talking about him. As a person. No one does that for just a shallow, physical event. For Rosinante, this is important, this is deep and emotional. And here Will is, all ready to take advantage of that, to likely shatter a trust that wasn't easy to win for either of them. He was about to use someone he actually gives a shit about, and worse still, he feels guilty about it.

His hands drop back to his sides, and his gaze slides down to the ground. Where there was an open, even inviting posture, now he's closed himself up like a vault.

"I... we shouldn't do this. Not with—" He makes a vague gesture. Not with the fortune teller's curse, not while riding the surreal high they've gotten from circumstances they'd never be in on their own terms. Not like this.

He's aching for this more than he thought he could. Far too rarely in his life has he had an interest in anyone; the bulk of the few encounters he's had were temporary and unsatisfying. Left him wondering if maybe relationships weren't for him at all, and he was able to accept that given the nature of his work. If you can't be yourself, how can you really be with someone?

Somehow, Beacon has shown him that there's hope. There's at least one person who he can connect with, and he feels beyond fortunate that Will is interested in him as well. He closes his eyes at the touch on his face, breathes a soft huff of air through his lips, and nearly chases that hand with them as they withdraw. He wants to know what it's like to kiss someone and mean it.

But Will leaves him longing, and a little confused, until he looks around and remembers where they are. That's probably what he means, right? Sharing this moment in the middle of a very public carnival is pretty awkward.

"Right, yeah," he says, agreeing even if he's disappointed, and lets his hands return to his sides as well. "Do you want to go somewhere else? Before that forest spirit starts trying to throw those stuffed animals at our heads?"

He glances over at the masked creature, which actually looks about ready to give up on them and return the prizes to its stand, then offers Will a slightly more muted smile. "I hope that's-" he starts, then cuts himself off with a serious effort.

Because he really, really hopes that "we shouldn't do this" doesn't mean something harder to hear.

Truth be told, Will forgot where they were until the two of them separated a bit. He doesn't mind so much, really, being flirtatious in public. He's done it before, and he's sure he'll do it again.

Though he'll admit he's not so keen on being seen displaying so much raw emotion in front of others.

"Somewhere else, yes." Where else? It doesn't matter, really. Though... he does worry that Rosinante may just want to continue this elsewhere. There's not much Will would love more than to do just that, but it still doesn't sit quite right.

... And unfortunately, he isn't entirely certain he can trust himself to stick to his decision, especially once they're alone.

"Somewhere we can talk." And just talk. Maybe.

"We're not far from your place," Rosinante points out. Closer than The Invincible, and more private. "I think we probably both have plenty to say, hm?"

Again, trying to just remain positive. His feelings have grown slowly over at least the last few months and only recently has he really begun to recognize them for what they are. But Will? Did all of this take him by surprise, or did he see it coming? He seems interested, but Rosinante knows how hard-earned his trust has been and if he's worried about anything at all, now is the time to get that out.

Well, maybe. Again, it's not like he really knows how this usually goes or what he's doing. He's good at people when he's able to remain detached and this is entirely different. He stands and adjusts the hang of his lantern, then waits with hands on his hips for Will to either agree or suggest somewhere else, while trying to read the expression on his face.

To his place. Ah. There's nothing inherently wrong with that, but it does seem like somewhere he'd normally go to engage in the more carnal sort of "conversation".

He can control himself, of course. He's not an animal. But if Rosinante starts in again with all that soft hair and blue eyes and whatnot, it's going to be difficult. He hates denying himself something that he wants. It's such a foreign concept. But he's denying himself because he wants it. Just... not like this.

"That will do just fine, yes." He nods, trying to keep his uncertainty out of his expression. What does Rosinante mean by "we both have plenty to say"? And more importantly, why has something that started out so effortless become so complex?

Unsure of what else to do, he takes the lead. It is his house, after all. Assuming they even manage to wait that long before starting.

Will starts off, so Rosinante follows, equal parts optimistic and yet terribly confused. Insecurity sinks in with every step, and that's the last thing he wants right now. He'd taken a bold leap, thanks in part to the fortune teller's strange inflicted compulsion to speak his mind, but also because, well - when you want something, you have to do something about it. He trusts Will, and let himself be vulnerable, let the flirting go where it would. "Hope I didn't make a mistake," he says as his thoughts again just sneak away from him and into the open.

"I mean-" he then practically interrupts himself immediately. "That's not the sort of thing I wanted to say. I'll wait, see if I can get my head together enough to get around this fortune teller stuff. If I don't say anything for a while, it's just so we can get to your place without my tongue acting on its own."

He gives a derisive snort, then stumbles to the ground before picking himself up and carrying on. Might just have to calm himself, nothing kills the mood like endless waves of self-doubt and self-deprecation. Instead he thinks of that brief, beautiful moment with Will's hands on his face and holds onto it.

Well, it would seem they're not going to make it to his place after all. Will can't stand this ridiculous silence, punctuated only by Rosinante's escaping thoughts, and the most recent of those escaping thoughts has just made it even more unbearable. He only gets a few more steps before he stops and turns.

They're out of the carnival, at least, and they're alone. It's not the privacy of his little house with one of those bubbles of silence around it, but it'll have to do. Unlike Rosinante, he's never been good at keeping his words to himself, for better or worse.

Will turns suddenly, standing straight so that he can look up better.

"You didn't make a mistake," he says flatly. A statement of fact. "You didn't even do anything wrong. Or anything I didn't want you to do." It irritates him, for reasons he can't name, that Rosinante might see himself as the problem here. "None of that is—" Is what? What is he even trying to say here?

He feels like he's being pulled in two directions by two very different parts of himself: the part that's always blunt and honest, and the part that surrounds his real thoughts in a barbed wire fence. The need to speak his mind and the need to protect himself. But protect him from what?

"I don't do this." He makes another vague gesture, trying to indicate the space between them. "I don't do... whatever this is. What I do with other people, it's just— it doesn't mean anything. And I don't want—" I don't want to ruin this. But those words he manages to keep. All that comes out is a frustrated sigh.

He starts over, finally giving in to that brutally honest side of himself, as he eventually always does.

"I use people, you know. You have to know that, you're not stupid, and you've practically been in my head. I don't get into relationships, I get into temporary agreements with people who haven't known me long enough to realize the sort of person I am. Or people who are just as uninvested, only looking for the same thing. But this—" whatever it is— "You started at the other end. You know what I'm like, yet here you are."

Giving him compliments. Touching him. Practically asking to do more.

"I don't want to... I don't want to turn this into—" He can't find the words anymore. He's never had to articulate this particular emotion, and he doesn't even know how to name it. It's infuriating.

"Your head's not where it's supposed to be," he finally spits out. "I can't do to you what I do to everyone else."

Good news is that sheltering them both in silence can be done anywhere. Bad news is they're far away enough from other buildings where Rosinante isn't sure it's safe to not hear whatever might be coming for them from within the woods, so he holds off, and hopes they're mostly alone. That will just have to do.

Will talks, and he listens. Manages to hold his thoughts in long enough to keep from interrupting with small apologies and rebuttals. Thankfully the fortune teller didn't curse him to act on physical impulses as well, or he'd be right back to where he was minutes ago, on his knees trying to hug the poor guy despite his protests.

But the moment Will stops talking, he just can't keep his mouth shut anymore. That's the one real problem right now as he sees it, for he's terrified of saying something to put Will off and he's very thankful he can drop into dead silence in an instant if he actually has to but there's no guarantee he'd be able to before some hideously stupid comment gets out first.

"I'm glad you're worried about me," he says, managing to keep himself and his voice relaxed despite his anxiously-racing heart. "I think I see a different side of you than you're used to seeing of yourself. You're not afraid for yourself, you're afraid of hurting me. That's already different from how you've treated other people before."

For a moment, he fumbles through his pockets and finds a cigarette. Been a while, and he's hoping it will help calm his nerves. With one in hand, though, he pauses before taking the time to light it and looks at Will again.

"I don't normally do this either. So I don't really know what it means, that this is different, but it's different for both of us. I just know that despite wherever you think my head ought to be, apparently it's here. Making a fool of myself while I try and take this chance, because whoever you've been in the past, that's not who you are now. Not who you have to be forever."

Is that helpful? Who the hell knows. He's a little lost too despite the words that keep tumbling out. Time to get this cigarette lit and in his mouth - and as has become habit, he holds the pack out for Will also. If this is all his ridiculous crush amounts to and this attempt at something more ends here, then at least they can still be friends, hopefully.

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I thought I had a laughing icon apparently I do not

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