21st Century Liability

[LYourLocalAutist]

Manuel could see that there was something to the way that he was acting which could, hypothetically, deter someone from believing that he could give some manner of informed consent. The beat of silence between him and Heather gave him cause for a bit of worry. Shit, maybe she was thinking he was weird or a lightweight right about now. A lightweight he was though, however lowkey; he preferred to avoid the herb when he could, definitely having a bias towards his sober self. He'd accepted Heather's invitation because, well... that aforementioned thing, yeah? That connection which warranted deepening. And say what you want about the buds' drawbacks, it was as good a herb as any to bring people together, and-

Oh!

Oh, that noise again. That had happened some minutes ago, yeah? That uncharacteristic noise that was actually quite nice to listen to. So he hadn't been completely off his shit when he'd "heard" it the first time. The buff girl lilt was real(?(!)). Things were getting exciting. The edges of his mouth began to extend into a smile as she began her piece, her words hinting to a veeeery positive future. The joymaxxing was as such that her leaning in completely caught him off guard, and he'd barely had the time to process the action as not-a-kiss before she whispered some very simple words in his ear.

Manuel squinted.

And nodded.

A few more times, for good measure.

Did she want to get pregnant or something?

Then, his eyes widened in the sort of beginnings of a realization, and his jaw slacked a moment. He was nooticing. The process had complete and he'd recalled a few memes in a few group chats he'd had to ask for context about, and he remembered the answers to his question. Riiiiiiiiiiiight. Manuel might have pulled some face of disgust if the circumstances were different and he'd had extra time to think. But enough new things had happened, and tonight thusly seemed like a night of discoveries, no matter of what nature. He fixed and affirmed his posture, looking straight and solemn as a philosopher, and when his voice came out, it rang with resolve and a firmness of purpose belying the current state of his consciousness.

"Game," he stated, plain and steadfast, "is game."

Point guards have offensive and defensive responsibilities alike, you know.

[Dr Adjective]

As she leaned back out, wearing a smirk somewhere between flirty and dangerous, Heather enjoyed watching the cogs turn. Did he know? She was reasonably sure the gossip must exist about her, what with her… everything, and how the boys she tended to go for did tend to seem… like that. Plus, it was 2025, people were savvy, right? Couldn’t just be her spending too long in online queer spaces, right?

And then the penny dropped, the jaw with it. The smirk evolved to full Cheshire Cat grin. Even through the soft red corona, those blue eyes remained devilishly piercing.

It was met with surprising openness and resolve.

Heather saw it, raised a sound that might be described as a purr. A low, vibrating tone that communicated approval, interest, amorous intentions.

“Brave boy,”

She put an arm around his shoulders. Closeness? Emphasising her physicality? Both? She met the boy’s eyes, raised her brows, bit her lower lip in a way that could only possibly communicate everything that teenage hormones had to offer.

“If you’re sure, I only meant to tease, but…”

But it was Schrödinger’s suggestion. Only joking if he wasn’t into it, but if he was, ha ha, unless? There did seem to be something she was forgetting though. Buried somewhere in the prior train of thought. Something about Ray, or the handful of subby girls who’d had similar experiences, or the clumsy red-haired one she’d hoped to offer such to, something like that… something to do with…

Oh!

“Just, so you know, fuckin… ground rules, we’re not like, dating, or exclusive. In case that’s a… a whatchacallit, a deal-breaker.”

A more sober Heather might’ve articulated that better. She was glad she articulated it at all. Banal teen relationship drama? Miss her with that shit. Even though it’d probably happen anyway.

[LYourLocalAutist]

Heather's response to Manuel's affirmation elicited a raised eyebrow (or as precise an attempt at it as he could with his current motor functions). The specific use of the word "boy" in that tone by this spawn of Yakub served to rub him the wrong way, though only momentarily. It was probably meant in one of those sexy ways, he thought as his face returned to a more positive neutrality, and he probably hadn't caught it at first on account of his previous partners never having really been all... this. Typically, the big spoon was him, so this kind of contact, verbal and physical, was very new. Though not unpleasant. That rumbling feline noise elicited some extra teeth from his grin, and having some muscle to lean on in some actual intimate connotation made for a right agreeable sensation. Their eyes met and his grin widened still. Now this was balling at its essence.

But!

One more moment of seriousness, it would seem. This part, Manuel could process a lot more succinctly, his grin lowering to that serious™ neutrality for the moment as his head bobbed up and down in a nod. 'Cooourse they weren't dating. Manuel wasn't plussed about that, nah. They didn't gotta be anything more, anything beyond the this (which Manuel was still struggling to identify, somehow). It'd be fine, and he expressed that with a shrug. Rules of engagement or sumn', yeah? Everything would turn out A-OK.

"It is what it is... I'm cool 'f you're cool."

[Dr Adjective]

In a more lucid state, Heather might’ve sarcastically called this the beginning of a situationship. Many such cases for her, too many for her hazy brain to properly count just now. Maybe one that she’d venture to call anything close to a proper relationship. Everyone else? Sex was just sex not a big deal in the Year of No Lords, No Masters 2025. Actual dating, feelings, romance? She had much higher standards to qualify for those things.

He was nodding, he was assenting. She was smiling, her free hand was making some risky moves to assess the lay of the land.

“Long as you’re sure.”

She found her target.

“You feel sure.”

Wink. And then she stood, rolling out the stiffness in her shoulders from the awkward posture.

“Cmon. It’s not far.”

[Heather Klein absconds.]

[LYourLocalAutist]

In a more lucid state, Manuel might've gone "hell yeah". In his current state, Manuel was approximately going "hell yeah". That is to say, the proper implications and connotations of the consequences, particularly social and emotional, linked to the actions that were about to be undertaken by this unlikely pair had not entirely reached him, moreso inwardly designated as problems (and even then, were they really?) to deal with el Mañana™. What he knew now, he contemplated as he stood, maintaining the grin on his face and turning his thoughts to a plan of attack (defense? (versatilityyyy)), was that he was sure that he felt sure.

"Ooh, chica, you know it."

Bit corny, but after emotions and giggles and the revelations and all, Manuel believed that they were just about past the point of actually caring. He stood up and smoothly switched into a biiiiiig stretch, affirming his posture once more. You don't make your way to a girl's bed with a slouched back; inauspicious and just plain rude. Right by Heather's side, at this point, Manuel felt a particular pep appear in his step that was conspicuously not present in the gait he'd taken to this meeting. An auspicious indicator of the past's positive effects, and how they were leading up to a seemingly pretty bright future. The now simply ash-and-smoke remnants of the blunt were cast to the floor and put out for good with a well-placed step of the boot, now a simple remnant in and of itself. So, with that smile still on his face, he let her carry on, ready to take on the world.

...Or, at least, her.

"Leeeead the way."

[Manuel "Mañana" Hernández continued elsewhere...]