[ Again, maybe it's just the coke, but Michael's heart is racing so hard he feels like it might pop, coating the insides of his ribs with warm feelings and too much viscera. Tate steps close and starts cleaning away the blood on his face and Michael's-- stunned, staring at him too closely. Tate never, ever, ever would have treated him with this much kindness at home. This much care.
He laughs, and the only reason his voice isn't quiet is because he's too amped up to manage the volume. ]
Not afraid of a little blood, are you?
[ He lingers until Tate pulls away, then takes a few steps back to get a better look at the snow. He could pick this up, make it a blizzard. Freeze Tate the way he nearly froze the others. Show him how strong he can be. He doesn't, but - he thinks about it. ]
C'mon, give me a challenge. Ask me to do something. I can probably do it.
[Tate snorts at the comment, because saying 'no I like it' is also a social faux-pas. He just shakes his sleeve a little as he drops his hand back down to his side, and gets distracted again with the snow. He still feels so fucking happily buzzed, caught up in this literally magical whirlwind. Go fucking figure.]
Uh... pull a rabbit out of a hat? I don't fucking know.
[ Michael's feeling more and more confident, willing to rib Tate back. He's not really great at telling jokes or having fun or interacting with people his own age, and Tate's... already a special kind of problem, but the coke's making him feel talkative and relaxed and easy. Still sorta wants to get hit in the face, too, but he can leave that.
He can change how he looks, but he's back to walking that fine line between wanting to scare Tate and wanting to impress him. He tilts his head, deciding. ]
Okay. [ He steps closer, a bounce in his step. ] Close your eyes. Count to three. Open them again.
[Tate snorts, taking a moment before he does as he's asked - still staring at the snowfall with a sense of muted wonder. He catches a few more snowflakes against his palm before he seems to remember he was given instruction, and looks more directly at Michael before closing his eyes. Takes a blink before they stick shut, and he's starting to feel the coolness from the snow.]
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no subject
He laughs, and the only reason his voice isn't quiet is because he's too amped up to manage the volume. ]
Not afraid of a little blood, are you?
[ He lingers until Tate pulls away, then takes a few steps back to get a better look at the snow. He could pick this up, make it a blizzard. Freeze Tate the way he nearly froze the others. Show him how strong he can be. He doesn't, but - he thinks about it. ]
C'mon, give me a challenge. Ask me to do something. I can probably do it.
no subject
Uh... pull a rabbit out of a hat? I don't fucking know.
[A challenge? Tate scowls, trying to think.]
Can you change how you look?
no subject
[ Michael's feeling more and more confident, willing to rib Tate back. He's not really great at telling jokes or having fun or interacting with people his own age, and Tate's... already a special kind of problem, but the coke's making him feel talkative and relaxed and easy. Still sorta wants to get hit in the face, too, but he can leave that.
He can change how he looks, but he's back to walking that fine line between wanting to scare Tate and wanting to impress him. He tilts his head, deciding. ]
Okay. [ He steps closer, a bounce in his step. ] Close your eyes. Count to three. Open them again.
no subject
One, two... three?
[And he'll open them.]