sketchycharacter

bullshit you cannot

ok show me a picture then

I'm kind of scared to, no word of a lie.

Like. It's like you robbed a cradle, Nate. You're a cradle robber. Add it to your resume.

are you only texting me because you're trying to wind me up without getting called out for making stuff up because that's what it sounds like

Woah, a little defensive on being called a cradle robber ain'tcha.

it's time to put up or shut up fisher you gotta back up your claims with proof

Fine.

[ Fine. Elena is going to put up. And by doing so, she huffs and leaves her room to go next door and bang on his door.

He probably expected a picture. Hell no. She is going to back this shit up in person— she also wants to see his reaction for herself. ]

[Nate opens the door, smiling pleasantly (and still a little amused at himself), only for his smile to drop off immediately as he registers what she looks like and takes a big step back.]

What the fuck.

[ She's got her arms folded. His reaction is perfect, leaves her looking and feeling a little smug. That doesn't make it any less unsettling. ]

See?

[ Elena points with both hands to her new face. Her fresh face. A nineteen year old Elena Fisher. ]

And you thought I was pulling your leg. You're a cradle robber. Now guess my age.

[He's still gaping. Give him a minute. His wife still has a woman's body, but she looks like a teenager, all fresh-faced an innocent. It's both attractive and a little unsettling.]

I don't know, eighteen, nineteen?

[He takes a step forward, peering at her.]

Is this permanent?

You were right on the last guess.

[ She tips her face up and then from side to side, angles it to let him see it all. ]

I don't think so. Nothing is ever permanent when it comes to these things.

Pretty crazy, though, right? I didn't think they were serious in their advertisement.

[It's honestly eerie. Not that Elena looks incredibly old at twenty-nine, but there's enough of a difference that he's captivated now.]

Man. I bet actors back home would pay a fortune for that. But I gotta say, it's making me feel like a dirty old man.

[ Her life right now every time she passes by the mirror. Eerie as ever. ]

Well, as long as I'm not expected to call you anything else other than your name, I think we're good.

No 'yes, Daddy's and 'please, Daddy's.

[ Greatly appreciated. ]

[Nate promptly makes a gagging noise. It may or may not be fake.]

God, don't say that! That's just—eurgh!

[They might not be having sex now, but he'd like to be able to perform eventually without having horrible flashbacks to what she just said.]

[ Her face breaks out into a big smile, laughter pouring out freely, easily. ]

What are you going to do when, one day, you have a daughter? She'll definitely end up being a daddy's little girl.

[That catches him completely off guard, and the surprise shows clearly on his face before his expression softens.]

That's a completely different context. "Daddy" is reserved for hypothetical future daughters alone, not the woman I enjoy getting cozy with.

[To put it delicately.]

Daughthers? Slow down there, cowboy.

[ She'd be good with just one kid. More than that, it's something they'd really have to discuss. Or discuss in general. ]

Hah, getting cozy with. Yeah, that's what way of putting it.

I'm speaking generally.

[He shrugs.]

Hey, I didn't want to say "have crazy monkey sex with" in the same conversation where a daughter is being discussed. Think of the children.

[Also, he's trying not to make it weird by touching on the sex they aren't having.]

You're no longer Nathan Drake, you're Helen Lovejoy.

[ Since she's in the room now it's good that she can lean back against the wall, arms crossed, body relaxed. She looks amused, don't mind her. ]

'Crazy monkey sex', huh.

[His brow furrows for a moment. Who? Eh, it probably doesn't matter.]

You can't deny that that's been an occasionally accurate description.

[He's amused too now, but also still fascinated, looking her over. How did that stuff manage to make her look so thoroughly young?]

And I'm not denying it.

[ More than the occasional.

She tilts her head to the side as she looks back at him, brow lifting when his gaze sweeps over her. ]

So... Where are your roommates at?

[He raises an eyebrow, but otherwise keeps his expression steady.]

Don't know. I haven't asked about their schedules.

[And he's suddenly regretting that, because now he can't say whether they're about to walk in or not.]

That's not helpful...

[ As much as she wants to reach out to him, her hands remain tucked with her arms. She does chew at her bottom lip as she watches him still, however, thinking that maybe she should leave before she does something they're both not exactly ready for and yet both want. ]

It really isn't.

[And if they're still working on getting fully in sync again, the look he gives her now should be easy to read. Longing, wistfulness, a little bit of lust...]

This roommate thing sucks, doesn't it.

[ Oh, Elena knows that look all a little too well. Which is why she blows out a heavy exhale, ending it on a breathless chuckle at the ridiculousness of where they're at. There's a shift in her tone then that he might know and remember, desire, low and a little husky. ]

It's like college all over again. We could try the ah, the sock trick.

[The tone shift only makes the lack of privacy worse, but he can't say he dislikes it.]

The—what now?

[He gives her a bemused look.]

Sorry, when I lived with people the only thing about socks that mattered was not leaving the dirty ones around to stink up the place.

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