bakerstreet | throw it out the window

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throw it out the window

The Defenestration Meme
...it seemed like a good idea at the time.

dēˌfenəˈstrāSHən
noun
the act of throwing a thing or especially a person out of a window: the defenestration of the commissioners at Prague.

- Post with your character.
- Reply to other characters.
- If you need a prompt, hit up the RNG and...

1. You are about to defenestrate yourself. Is this a suicide attempt? Is it merely because you need a quick exit and fortunately the building is only one or two stories tall so it's not that much in the way of defenestration? Well. Either way, you're about to throw yourself out of a window and somebody caught you in the act.
2. You're defenestrating your/someone else's belongings. Is it because it's a messy break-up? Is it a fit of rage? It doesn't matter, because unless someone actively stops you you'll end up defenestrating the contents of the entire room.
3. You're defenestrating/defenestrated a helpless NPC! Or maybe they're not so helpless. They could be an assassin or something.
4. You're defenestrating the person who replied to you! (In the event that person happens to be your long lost brother, your beloved mother, your one true love, or someone equally close to you, you may assume that mind control was involved.)

(...it feels kind of weird to only have only four RNG prompts, but there's only so many ways to throw something out of a window. I mean, really.)

- And kick ass and take names.

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Dunno. Not right now. [His voice is muffled, face still pressed into her clothes. He shuts his eyes.] But maybe we'll have to just take it one moment at time. I guess. Nothing else to be done.

[He feels very tired, abruptly. Now he really wants to get back to her place.]

[She doesn't hear the words, but she can feel that exhaustion seep through him as she holds him, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead.]

Come on. We can go get some stuff for my place and regroup. More than just something to drink.

Yeah. Good plan. [He nods, eyes closed still as he savors the kiss. He has to sniff again, trying to hide it by clearing his throat after.] Let's hit an actual grocer instead of a bodega, yeah? I'm getting sick and tired of things cooked in a bleedin' microwave.

Then you're going to have to be the one cooking, because microwaving is the best I can do outside of dialing a number.

[But she'd concede to that, turning and sliding her arm into his to lead him down the street.]

Sorry, sugarlips. No haggis or sheep balls in American grocery stores.

I'm not Scottish, thanks.

[He wrinkles his nose in disdain, absently. He lets her link their arms, pulling him along, easily falling into step beside her.]

I can cook, though. [A pause as he realizes for some that would count as a surprise.] Nothing fancy, mind. Pasta. Salads. That sort of thing. But seems it's more than you can.

Clearly this is why I keep you around. So I can have a better class of shitty food. That and you have a great ass.

[She smiled up at him, trying to give him the time to regroup himself and a moment to himself in his thoughts.]

Wait, does this mean you won't wear a kilt? Damn. There goes my Christmas wish list.

You really weren't hoping to see me in a kilt, were you? [He surprises himself by managing to laugh.]

And if I was?

[She even batted her lashes up at him, playing the coy little ingenue.]

[He has to laugh again, shaking his head. The sound is weary, like he hasn't laughed in awhile. Which he knows isn't true but...so much has been going on, there have been moments where he felt like he'd never want to laugh again.]

You're going to be disappointed, is what.

You so sure about that? Because I'm pretty sure that I might be willing to make a deal regarding you in a kilt.

Uh uh, I'm not falling for that one. You'll just have to keep that idea in your dreams. [In that pretty little head of yours, and try not to share. He turned his head to nose against her, and press a kiss to her temple.

Damn, this is weird. It's like they're cozy or something.]

Mm, hell no. I'm going to angle for it to be a reward for something. You in a kilt. Just a kilt. Maybe oiled up.

[Waggling both brows at him, she leaned into him, pleased that not only had her distraction technique worked, but that she was actually feeling better.

You have to have some kind of twisted little kinky fantasy. Maid uniform? Sexy nurse? Naughty cop?]

[Definitely not cops, thanks. Got a bit of a thing for a schoolgirl uniform I'll admit to. Just the uniform, though, not the actual underage girls. Outside of that...fancy lingerie and heels in all black always works.

He looks away as his expression shifts, unable to fully conceal his awkward. He about rolls his eyes, knowing there's no point in trying to repress the thought.

That's for women, anyway. For men it's...a speedo. Just a speedo. And some hair gel. Maybe some eyeliner.

He's not ashamed of his, as Deckard would call it, "varying preferences". He's just wildly unused to talking about it. He doesn't bother letting everyone he knows professionally even know about it, and if so it's still not like anyone wants to have a heart to heart on the subject.]

[I could do the uniform thing. Maybe even the lingerie, but you're going to have to pick it out. I have shit taste.

She wasn't really surprised by the admission. He'd mentioned something about men before, but she did have a curiosity.

So... when you're with a guy, are you always the top? Asking for reasons.

Hey, she had the internet. She'd seen stuff. Some of it was... interesting.]

Are we really doing this? [He shoots her a sidelong glance, bemused.]

I dunno. Are we?

[She gave him a simple look back. She wouldn't press him for things he was uncomfortable with. Not like that. She still hadn't gone into detail on Kilgrave with him. That was a chat they still had to have. But she wanted something light. Something... fun. She was tired of feeling raw and bare around him. She had a feeling he was about at the same place as her.]

[He supposed he could do with a little fun, himself. And the conversation wasn't embarrassing he supposed. Not when they'd had so many others that were the same level of...frank. It did seem to be a favorite subject of hers. Sex.

It was well in the top five with him as well, but he found he didn't actually talk about it that much. Certainly not to the level she liked to go to.

Yeah. I'm on top. Always. Might be a different story if it was ever more than a one-night stand, but it...never is. I've a hard time meeting guys.]

[Good to know.

She was thinking of that one video Trish had shown her when they'd been drunk one night, pre-Kilgrave, back when life hadn't had that bleak edge to it that it did now. Trish did like to shock her, and while she'd been shocked, she'd also been interested.

You haven't asked something I've expected you to, even though you've hinted at it.

Switching topics a little, because she liked to keep him on his toes, and since they were spilling it all out, she might as well get certain things out of the way.]

[Apparently she was one of those women that got off on the thought of two men together? That was both...useful and annoying, perhaps. It depended on some things.

For now, maybe, he was more than happy to let the subject drop. Though it caught him off-guard, the way she shifted like that so abruptly. Sometimes it felt like she was interrogating him: especially now with this whole mental connection bit. She was hard to shy away from.

I can think of a few things that could apply to, he countered warily. Which do you mean?

It was odd, them walking down the street like this, moving at an easy pace, arms linked still, stealing glances at one another from time to time...probably looking like a couple, like a normal couple to anyone looking at it from outside.

Yet they were carrying on this whole conversation within. That no one else was privy to.
No sign of it save the occasional incident of bleed-through in reaction or speech.]

[He would be incorrect in his assumption, but he was free to think it. But she'd changed topics and after stopping at the lights, she kept watch down the street as she answered.

My line up of beaus. You've made a couple references to other men I might be sleeping with.

After her brief look down one side, then the other, she lifted her eyes to him.

I'll be disappointed if you haven't figured out that there aren't any.

By both design and just the fact that it took a rare type to be able to handle her for longer than a one-off.]

[He almost stopped walking again, but only ended up staggering one single slowed step. He slid his arm through hers a bit more, and gave it a slight squeeze. Feeling, oddly, like he needs to apologize, though he's not sure why or for what.]

I...

[He squeezes his eyes shut, sighing tersely in exasperation. She says he needs to "practice" right? Maybe it's best if he returns to trying to communicate through thought.

It's not like I care, either way. But I didn't assume you'd be sitting around waiting for me either. I'm good - well, no, I'm fantastic - but I wasn't walking around with expectations. Besides, it can't be hard for you to find someone to fulfill your needs. Even if it's for the incredibly short time.

She's good-looking, spirited, great in bed and lives in a big city. No matter how abrasive and short-tempered she can be, how hard can a man be to find if she wants one?]

[She rolled her eyes at his little self congratulatory pat on the back, giving his arm a squeeze back as they walked.

Yeah, yeah. You're a rockstar in bed. We've established that. I don't generally have needs, though. Or I'm better at ignoring them. There's been a lot of shit in my life lately, and people just get in the way.

It was more than that, but that was certainly part of it. Malcolm's life had been all but ruined because of Kilgrave using him against her. Hope had died. Luke had been blown up. And that was all just her own shit. The goddamn undead ninjas had tried to go for Trish and if that architect had been less of a decent person, Malcolm's brains would be all over her apartment. People were things to get attached to that she wound up losing.

It's why it was so surprising to her that she couldn't seem to stop wanting to be around him. That she was making room in the shit pile of her life for him to fit.]

[You're that tragedy-prone you'd be worried even about bringing someone home with you once or twice? His exasperation carries in his mental tone. I'm not talking about actual boyfriends here, I'm talking someone you call for only one reason, someone you barely say 'hello' to before the trousers come off. Someone like--

Wait. Shit.

Something like what I thought we tried to have, he admits. Though I suppose that didn't work out as well.

Between the them ending up liking each other more than that, and also something bad managing to happen to him anyway.

Maybe you have a point.]

[Her hand slid down his arm to find his, fingers twining around his as she sighs, feeling a weary sort of weight on her she can't keep out of her mental 'voice'.

Welcome to my life. I can't do normal. Normal will get someone killed. Normal almost got you killed. If I were an actually good person, I would have lost your number.

But she hadn't. She'd let herself give into a moment of weakness, a moment of selfishness. She wanted. She wanted to have something other than a bottle to curl around at night. She wanted someone who pushed her. Hell, sometimes she just wanted the touch of skin on skin with someone she wasn't punching in the face.]

[He drops his head, not to look at their hands together but at the ground for a moment. At nothing, his eyes half-lidded.

I don't think there was that much too normal about the way you and I met to begin with, he offers. Or the way that my life already was. Hell, under most circumstances I'd say I was the one who was far from normal. A good reason why I don't date. Kinda hard to cover any question about what I do for a living.

Still, his seedy shadow world and her life of mutations and magic right about now feel worlds about. As exciting and out there as the things he did - does - can be, it's nothing compared to what he's heard from her. It's nothing compared to what he's been through in the past week.]

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