Casey Jones (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jonesiseverywhere) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
legionworld2017-04-02 09:00 pm
jonesiseverywhere) wrote in legionworld2017-04-02 09:00 pm
Entry tags:
It's not denial. I'm just selective about the reality I accept.
Who| Casey and Dave
What| Hockey turns into deep conversations
Where| Hab deck
When| After Through the Looking Glass
Warnings/Notes| Discussions of child abuse/neglect
Hockey is the perfect sport. You go as fast as you can skate, the sound of a slap shot is as satisfying as a baseball bat hitting a ball (or a skull), and you get to slam into people!
Except when he's practicing by himself. Which is right now.
Hockey is perfect when he doesn't want to think about anything, because if you ask him, he's pretty much mastered the art. All his shots are as fast as he's ever hit, he screams across the ice with the practice of a seasoned pro and the high he's chasing is as coursing through his veins. He doesn't even have to think about this anymore.
He's probably going to go pro just like his dad did, especially after all his ninja-ing and super-heroing honing his technique. Man, if only he could see him now...
What| Hockey turns into deep conversations
Where| Hab deck
When| After Through the Looking Glass
Warnings/Notes| Discussions of child abuse/neglect
Hockey is the perfect sport. You go as fast as you can skate, the sound of a slap shot is as satisfying as a baseball bat hitting a ball (or a skull), and you get to slam into people!
Except when he's practicing by himself. Which is right now.
Hockey is perfect when he doesn't want to think about anything, because if you ask him, he's pretty much mastered the art. All his shots are as fast as he's ever hit, he screams across the ice with the practice of a seasoned pro and the high he's chasing is as coursing through his veins. He doesn't even have to think about this anymore.
He's probably going to go pro just like his dad did, especially after all his ninja-ing and super-heroing honing his technique. Man, if only he could see him now...
no subject
Today's wandering has him stumbling upon an ice rink. It's honestly not that cold, but he's forever a Texan kid and he shivers regardless, pulling his cape around his shoulders for a bit of extra warmth. He might have turned right around and gone to look around elsewhere if not for the sound of someone taking shots down on the ice. Surprise, surprise, look who's here.
"Well, shit. And here I thought you just had a thing for Jason Voorhees."
The coolkid snark is a little diluted when he's got his cape wrapped around himself like a blanket, but hey, what can you do?
no subject
"What, those long-johns not doin' anything for you? Or are you tryin' out for Little Red Riding Hood?"
After nearly freezing to death on an ice planet, nothing feels cold. Not even winter in New York. Casey eyes a puck slowly using the last of it's momentum to slide by him, before hauling back and slap-shotting it perfectly into the center of the net. He takes a moment to admire his work as he slides backwards on his skates.
"So, what's up? Come to watch a natural at work?"
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"Damn straight. I'm a shoo-in for the part. All I gotta do is bat these baby reds all innocent and gullible-like and those casting directors will be trippin' over themselves offering me the big bucks to be their lead. Nah, you gotta come up with a bigger figure than that if you want a Strider headlining your shitty movie. Add at least another zero to the end of that number and maybe we'll talk."
The response falls just shy of smooth and confident, toeing at the border of rambling territory with a tone that drifts more towards mumbling the longer he speaks. Eventually he shrugs, leaning against the wall around the rink. An eyebrow arches over his shades at the neat shot, but he doesn't comment. Hell if he knows what makes for a sick goal. If it goes in the net then that's all that matters, right?
"I'm just checking the place out. What's the point of all these little slices of home if we don't get to take a tour around sightseeing the wonders of alternate universes?" Deadpan as possible, he extracts a hand from his cape burrito to run it mock-reverently over the railing encircling the rink. "Fuckin' magical."
no subject
"Who're they gonna cast as the Big Bad Wolf then? Or should I say Big Bad Troll?"
OK, he's actually not still sore about that. Meenah was hot, those anon guys agreed with him, and he's not upset about them knowing he's got good taste. It's more about seeing how Dave reacts. Casey hasn't given him up for total lamewad jerkass just yet. If they have to work together they might as well be bros, right?
"Where'd the Legacy say you were from? Texas? you just don't know." OK, yeah, the Stars exist but still. He uses his stick to flip a puck up, catching it on the flat edge. "But don't sweat it! You got me to show you just how rad hockey really is."
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He shrugs, hopefully just being facetious, and flops to lean heavily over the rink railing, hanging his torso out over the ice.
"But sure, dog, show me the wonders of hockey. Hit that ball in the net, score a touchdown."
Is he serious? He sounds serious. Jesus.
no subject
It makes him wonder.
But hey, nothing like being able to show off wicked hockey skills to cut through all Dave's weird noise. The fact that he's not impressed by puck-juggling tells Casey that Dave really doesn't know the first thing. Total blank slate here. Nice. But what's gonna look impressive to the total outsider..? Especially without a goalie to clown on.
"Alright, check it." He snags one of the loose pucks and skates into position before lining up, reeling back and...
POCK! The puck sails off the ice like a little UFO, before pinging off the top bar of the net. And while it moves up, Casey moves forward, building as much speed as he can in the space and time he has. He drops to his knees as the puck hits the top of the arc, sliding forward and leaning backwards. The puck comes down, he slides into the net and catches it right in his teeth.
...He kind of can't believe that actually freakin' worked. And how much it hurt his teeth. Maybe he SHOULD start wearing the mouth-guard during practice.
no subject
"Man, your dentist must love you." The corner of Dave's mouth quirks upward a little and he straightens to lean more casually against the railing, hands shovered into his pockets. "I thought the whole hockey players missing half their teeth thing was because of fistfights or taking sticks to the face or something but no, turns out it's all the result of crazy showboating. I mean, goddamn, I admittedly don't know shit about this sport, but I can't imagine that particular trick comes in handy much during an actual game."
Like, sure, knowing absolutely nothing he can admit that that kind of stunt probably takes a lot of skill. But he can't let a completely useless bit like that go unsassed. He just doesn't have it in him.
no subject
He pushes himself out of the net and hops back to his feet. "In a real game there's a whole other team to stunt on, dude. Like...one time I was about to take a shot against this huge goalie who was, like, probably a 20-year-old who got held back a bunch. So I yanked off my glove and sent it down the ice. Guy totally fell for it! Got sent to the box but it was so worth it."
He wipes his mouth and grins. Dave's impressed. He can tell. "If you're asking for a personal demonstration there's some skates and sticks in the supply room."
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But. Fuck. Casey seemed jazzed about the whole dumb game, and he'd seemed genuinely upset by Dave blabbing about the thing with the fishbitch. Whatever, what's it gonna hurt as long as he's not pulling dumb stunts like that?
"Fine." Dave straightens, turning to look for said supply closet. "We're doing this, bro. We're making it happen."
It's kinda like just sliding on on a hardwood floor in your socks, right? Not that he's ever done that either, but hey, he's seen movies. And he's practically a ninja. How hard can it be?
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He watches Dave get skates as he makes a few sweeps around the rink to gather loose pucks.
"Not to brag," totally to brag, "but I was pretty much born in the rink. I was skating before I could walk and...uh, what're you doing?"
Dave is making some kind of tangled cat's cradle with his laces...is he trying to tie it around his ankle? "It's just like shoes, bro. Quit screwin' around."
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Christ, these feel weird. Dave gives up on the whole wrapping-the-long-laces-around-the-ankle thing he swears he's seen somewhere (maybe that's for hiking boots? Or maybe just a hipster fashion thing). It's just like shoes, just like...way more holes to lace through. Right.
He tugs on a lace to get more length -- surely more will be needed to lace all the way up? -- and grimaces at the sudden resulting tightness around the middle of his foot, immediately moving to tug those looser again. Just like shoes his ass. Shoes don't require a degree in fucking particle physics.
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"Never went rollerblading either, huh?" No, it's not quite the same, but it's close enough and it's a pretty easy thing to do in a big city. Just lace up and suddenly the whole world is a skate park.
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Eventually, he does get the damn things laced up in a way that doesn't feel painful and doesn't leave the laces trailing all over the place. With a tiny frown, Dave grabs the stick and shakily stands. Fuck, it's unexpectedly difficult. Like standing on one's toes, except the toes in question have been chopped off and surgically reattached to the sole of the foot, sideways and pointing down. Rather than awkwardly clomp around on the regular flooring, he just kinda...leans forward until he can grab onto the railing for balance and lunge to step out onto the ice. Skates are made for ice, not floors, that'll be waaay easier.
His front leg slides forward expectedly smoothly under the force of his lunging, and with a yelp he catches himself on the rink wall before he can be dragged into what surely would have been a hella uncomfortable split.
"Who the fuck thought this was a good idea?" he gasps, the instinct to snark unkillable even while he's clinging to a railing to stay somewhat upright. "What suicidal moron looked at the fragile layer of bullshit covering deadly icy waters and went yeah let's make a game out of sliding around on that shit, it'll be awesome?"
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But that little bit of appreciation is drowned out in Casey's sharp staccato hyena laugh. If God himself had asked what the most annoying laugh a kid like Casey could have, he could not have done better.
It's always hilarious when a total newbie tries to get on the ice. They do the splits thing every single time. Casey kind of wants to help him up, it's just too pathetic, but Dave is not April and he feels no desire to take his hands and guide him around the rink. Unless he knows it would flummox Dave, which he kind of doubts.
"Need any help, bro?" he says with no small amount of smarm.
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"What I need is for this to have never been suggested in the first place," he bit out, deeply regretting the last ten minutes. "If my time travel wasn't completely nerfed I probably would have gotten a visit from a future Dave before going anywhere near that ice warning me to avoid this shit entirely. And then he'd have died before my eyes as doomed Daves tend to do, but his sacrifice would not have been in vain because I always trust future mes, they know what they're fuckin' talking about."
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"Well, then it's prob'ly not gonna suck that bad, is it? Though that could make you the future Dave who's going back in time later to tell the other Dave how much this rules."
He leans his stick against the side of the rink and glides over to Dave's front.
"Look, I'll show ya how to balance. Gimme your hand, bend your knees and point your heels towards each other."
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It quickly devolves from an explanation to Dave just mumbling to himself as he tries to follow the instructions. One hand still gripping the rink wall, he grabs at Casey's offered hand with his other, focusing very hand on keeping his balance centered enough that his legs don't slide from under him.
Not hard enough, of course, to let the moment escape without his commentary.
"Just like all thise romcoms I've had shoved down my throat. Don't fall too hard for me, dude, I'm taken."
no subject
He lets Dave skate along for bit, slowly and steadily until he seems more or less stable. Then he says, "OK, leggo of the wall and I'll show you how my old man taught me."