Harry has been going stir crazy. Don’t get him wrong, he’s glad the surgery worked out and he didn’t die of flowers and didn’t lose his cool in Haftesal and punch a doctor but he was walking around minus an eye and he’s too worn out to run much. His brain has not been happy about these things and he’s been left alone with his thoughts too much.
Boredom is dangerous to recovering addicts and cockatoos, alike. Relapse, over plucking, it’s all bad. They say that in the pamphlets.
“Always, man.”
He fingerguns at Phil, clicks his tongue. Pew, pew. He’s armed and dangerous with these things. Especially to those matts. He sees you, hiding in Phil’s feathers, messing up his cute little wings.
EMPATHY - (He probably won’t appreciate you calling them that. Even if you argue that they are, objectively both little and cute.)
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - (Standby, he might under the right circumstances. Wait and see.)
CONCEPTUALIZATION - (Think of this as building a case for how cool wings are. They feel good when they’re taken care of. In the end you will lay it all out on a metaphorical cork board. Your wings are guilty of being very cute, Phil Connors, you are under arrest. Do not resist. Your case will be taken before the court system of the Moralintern and from there you will be judged fairly and prudently.)
Harry kind of wiggles out of his jacket, Kim fixed up his clothes with slits in the back so he can like, wear shirts and stuff now but there’s a bit of a flappy learning curve.
“Can I uh, have a hand?”
He tries to look kind of cool when he asks and not like a grown man losing a battle with his blazer. His face is kind of working out for him but his left wing is wiggling and twitching in a way that says ‘help me, this is an actual problem.’
COMPOSURE - (I'm really glad you're past the 'freaking out because a guy's shirt is kind of unbuttoned' thing.)
[I can’t remember seeing this guy in pants, like ever. And this place? It’s basically immersion therapy. I’m cool. I’m disco. Oh god.]
COMPOSURE - (You got this. You don’t really have to take *your* shirt off or anything.)
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - (Just focus on making him feel nice.)
[Phil shrugs off his own jacket in the meanwhile, cursing under his breath as he struggles on the wings. He hated them so much. They were so bulky and were completely useless, not to mention their small size made him look more silly than graceful.
When he finally pulls off his own jacket he notices Harry struggling with his blazer. He guesses it would be really dickish to leave him hanging, huh.]
Here, lemme try.
[He goes to remove Harry's blazer, struggling slightly.]
God I know I follow the fog but you'd think she'd make us clothes or some shit that are easy to get in an out of.
Pigeons are cool. They’re smart. If you don’t have to eat them they make good pets. They also come in a diverse range of colors.
They’re almost kind of like seagulls, which Harry also admires but keeps a respectful distance from. Living life on the edge as urban survivors. The main difference is that they’ve had to adapt to urban life in response to abandonment by their people. It's sad.
Also seagulls could never be pets. A seagull cannot be contained.
Anyway, pigeons are cool, wings are awesome, and he’s going to prove his point today.He waves his wing thankfully as he’s freed.
“Maybe she wants us to be more in touch with our bodies. Maybe clothes are a human concept…?”
He looks thoughtful, looks down at his flared pants and snakeskin shoes. His clothes are disco. He’s not sure he wants to give them up.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
oh shit yeah!
Harry has been going stir crazy. Don’t get him wrong, he’s glad the surgery worked out and he didn’t die of flowers and didn’t lose his cool in Haftesal and punch a doctor but he was walking around minus an eye and he’s too worn out to run much. His brain has not been happy about these things and he’s been left alone with his thoughts too much.Boredom is dangerous to recovering addicts and cockatoos, alike. Relapse, over plucking, it’s all bad. They say that in the pamphlets.
“Always, man.”
He fingerguns at Phil, clicks his tongue. Pew, pew. He’s armed and dangerous with these things. Especially to those matts. He sees you, hiding in Phil’s feathers, messing up his cute little wings.
EMPATHY - (He probably won’t appreciate you calling them that. Even if you argue that they are, objectively both little and cute.)
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - (Standby, he might under the right circumstances. Wait and see.)
CONCEPTUALIZATION - (Think of this as building a case for how cool wings are. They feel good when they’re taken care of. In the end you will lay it all out on a metaphorical cork board. Your wings are guilty of being very cute, Phil Connors, you are under arrest. Do not resist. Your case will be taken before the court system of the Moralintern and from there you will be judged fairly and prudently.)
Harry kind of wiggles out of his jacket, Kim fixed up his clothes with slits in the back so he can like, wear shirts and stuff now but there’s a bit of a flappy learning curve.
“Can I uh, have a hand?”
He tries to look kind of cool when he asks and not like a grown man losing a battle with his blazer. His face is kind of working out for him but his left wing is wiggling and twitching in a way that says ‘help me, this is an actual problem.’
COMPOSURE - (I'm really glad you're past the 'freaking out because a guy's shirt is kind of unbuttoned' thing.)
[I can’t remember seeing this guy in pants, like ever. And this place? It’s basically immersion therapy. I’m cool. I’m disco. Oh god.]
COMPOSURE - (You got this. You don’t really have to take *your* shirt off or anything.)
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - (Just focus on making him feel nice.)
no subject
When he finally pulls off his own jacket he notices Harry struggling with his blazer. He guesses it would be really dickish to leave him hanging, huh.]
Here, lemme try.
[He goes to remove Harry's blazer, struggling slightly.]
God I know I follow the fog but you'd think she'd make us clothes or some shit that are easy to get in an out of.
no subject
They’re almost kind of like seagulls, which Harry also admires but keeps a respectful distance from. Living life on the edge as urban survivors. The main difference is that they’ve had to adapt to urban life in response to abandonment by their people. It's sad.
Also seagulls could never be pets. A seagull cannot be contained.
Anyway, pigeons are cool, wings are awesome, and he’s going to prove his point today. He waves his wing thankfully as he’s freed.
“Maybe she wants us to be more in touch with our bodies. Maybe clothes are a human concept…?”
He looks thoughtful, looks down at his flared pants and snakeskin shoes. His clothes are disco. He’s not sure he wants to give them up.
“I like my clothes though.”