2020.06.18 - Drowned Rats and Wet Dogs
It's a lazy evening in Metropolis. The sun is beginning to fade and the stars and moon are starting to emerge. Unfortunately, it's also a very wet day in Metropolis. Outside, the rain is coming down. Seeking shelter from the sudden downpour, Emery rushes into a local Cafe and shakes himself dry. Not like a dog, mind you, more like a kid whose found himself unfortunate kinds of wet. His jacket managed to keep some of the water off, but his head and hair are soaked, not to mention the waist down. His jeans are drenched and his sneakers are most likely ruined.
Wandering over to the cafe in the center of the store, his sneakers squeaking as he walks, he slumps into the chair at a table. The people behind the counter give him a disapproving look as he does so. "Fucking Hell," he grumbles to himself, earning him just as unfriendly a stare from people nearby seated and reading while sipping coffee. Unzipping his jacket, he leaves it on for the time being. Glancing out to the doors he came through, he mutters "Guess I'm stuck in here for now." He looks less than pleased about that fact.
"Motherfucker." That's the word that Lester has for the bookstore when he enters a couple of minutes after Emery, his face as thunderous as the storm outside as he holds the door for the person behind him, which is of course Daken. "That fuckin' GBS weather guy don't know shit." He shakes the water off himself less like a kid who got caught in the rain and more like a dog who just got soaked and isn't happy about it. Who cares if some of the people around him get wet? He has no hair to be soaked, but his bald pate is slick with rainwater as he stalks towards the cafe. "I'm watchin' Channel Six from now on." He pauses at the table where another drowned rat sits, and shakes his head, frowning at the kid seated there. "Jesus, kid. What'd you do, swim here?"
If there's one person that doesn't care about getting caught in a downpour, it's Daken. He's always almost-wearing such revealing clothes anyway, and the moisture just accents every aspect about himself that he likes to show off. It's especially convenient for making his shirt look transparent, especially since today he's wearing a light one -- open of course -- in unbleached cotton, soft and thin. If it had just sprinkled down a light spring shower, it would have been enough to see through it to the tattoo winding along his side and, of course, perky nipples.
He stretches his arms up, reaching his hands to shake out his mohawk. It looks almost dandy once he has it de-rained a little bit, but he ends up just pushing it back on his head, not quite slicked back. "Thank you," he murmurs to Lester, the door held for him, and waits for Lester to lead the way to the cafe. Though while he's still got the door open, he shrugs off his shirt and wrings it out just outside of the doorway. It's not like it wasn't already wet out there. Then he just drapes the shirt over his shoulders, strolling after Lester and looking for all the world like it was just any other day.
"I don't know. I like the rain. It's monsoon season soon, at home." Daken casually glances around at their surroundings, coming to settle on the boy soaking at the table. It's nowhere near to tantalizing way little drops of moisture collect over Daken's musculature and gently roll down the curves of his body. This kid is a drowned rat.
Emery, upon realizing he's being addressed, looks up at the man nearby with a glare. "Look who's talking, old man. You don't look much better yourself. I would ask if you swam here, but from the smell of you I'd say you took the route via the sewer instead of the street." He can't really tell if Lester smells or not, but he's not one to be talked to that way. His eyes flicker over to Daken, taking in the other man as well. They aren't the type of people he'd normally mix with, and the expression on his face betrays his slight wariness. No poker face does this one have. At being reminded of how wet he is, he reaches into an inner pocket of his jacket and checks something on the left side, frowning faintly before withdrawing his hand and drumming his fingers on the table. "Rude," he mutters under his breath.
Lester is the King of Glares, and when the kid gives him his, he gives one right back. It's hard and flinty and dangerous-looking. When the kid says he smells...he turns to look at Daken, his mouth pressing into a tight, bleak line as color creeps into his neck and ears. Then he's turning back, and jerking his chin towards his chest. "You got a fuckin' mouth on you, kid," he notes, his voice cold and distant, tinged with some of that danger from his glare. "Might want to watch that." He reaches up to rub the scar on his forehead as he thinks for a moment before turning back to Daken. "Green tea, right?" he verifies, before he moves in the direction of the counter, leaving the mutt to deal with the kid.
The rain has only slightly dampened Daken's pheromones, but once he's inside and drying off, they're revitalized somewhat. Anyone who might have said anything about Daken going essentially shirtless indoors probably wouldn't keep their aggression for long enough to make a fuss about it. He doesn't look like he's particularly bothered by anything...
And then the brat makes his comment, and one finely-shaped eyebrow lifts. "You must not have a very good sense of smell," he comments, casually. Smoothly, he turns to look into Lester's eyes, as he especially likes to do when talking to him. There's always the sense of Daken's gaze lingering much longer than it has to on Lester, with a quality of adoration in it. "Actually...I think I'd like chai today. Thank you."
Then, once they're alone again, for the moment, Daken smiles in a way that looks at first radiant and warm. Then there are a dozen little unsettling tells that make it seem like nothing even remotely kind. "I'll assume you're just uncomfortable from the rain. But I personally find enough to appreciate in the elements. You should find a place to dry yourself and your clothes out. You might catch a cold."
Emery notices the look in Lester's eyes and frowns, withdrawing somewhat into himself. Daken's words, although appearing kind, don't settle him any further. "Rain and me don't mix," he says in a more muted tone. "I have... I just don't like getting wet. Neither do my electronics," he finishes simply. Even though Daken looks physically imposing, for some reason Emery doesn't seem to react to Lester the same way.
"And he doesn't smell," Emery adds with a mumble. "I'm sure he knows that, not sure why he took it so personally." He doesn't move to take his jacket off, though. It's the driest thing on him anyways. "Not many places to dry off here, last I checked. I doubt the people behind the counter are gonna give me a stack of napkins or anything. Besides, as your friend so kindly pointed out, I'm soaked through. What would be the point?" He's gone from indignant to sullen rather quickly.
Lester watches the pair at the table from his spot in line at the counter. His expression remains unlightened, but his mouth is less of a line as he watches his partner and the kid interact. His eyes narrow thoughtfully as he steps to the counter, then, placing his order with the amended beverage. Then his attention is on the suddenly nervous-looking barista, who doesn't appear to be getting any less nervous under the attention.
Electronics. That makes sense. Daken's expression softens slightly, so he's a hair less murderous, even though only Lester would really recognize his bristling for what it is. He keeps it so subtle, most of the time. And with his increased relaxation, his pheromone field starts easing out more expansively around him. Indoors, it's a miracle worker.
"I'll be right back." Then Daken drifts to the counter and, on the way, leans in to brush a feather-light kiss to Lester's cheek before addressing that barista. "May I borrow some towels? There's a miserable sodden boy and I think they'd help him feel better."
And even if he wanted to say no, those pheromones drift along. Daken's so persuasive, especially with that tone, and the eyes, and that body on display for the world to see. Surely one factor will prove too much for a simple coffee shop worker's defenses.
Emery watches Daken head to the counter, his face suspicious. That look quickly changes to evident shock as he overhears Daken asking for some towels. He sinks lower in his chair a bit, looking around to see if anyone else is paying any attention to him. Fortunately, it seems the other patrons are either busy with their own lives or distracted by the pair that just walked in. A few of them seem to be watching Daken curiously. Emery picks at his jacket over his left wrist without thinking about it, then seems to catch himself and rests his hands on the table in front of him.
Lester doesn't react to that feather-light kiss when Daken gives it. Instead, his eyes track back to the table, where the kid look likes he's about to crawl under it. The former assassin's mouth pulls slightly to one side in amusement as the barista obliges with the towels. He doesn't even cuss the guy for stopping his order to do so.
When his drinks are ready, he collects the mugs and makes his way back to the table. There's Daken's chai tea, a black coffee for him, and a mug of hot chocolate that he sets in front of the kid. Then he's moving to sit at the table, taking one of those towels for himself, drying his head carefully.
With a whispered phrase of something suitably perverted in Lester's ear, Daken takes the towels with a dip of his head and a dazzling smile. "Thank you." He returns to the table and holds out the towels in his very strong-looking hands. He has black nails, too, but it's not really clear if they're natural or just really well-painted. There seems to be zero chipping or wear, which might otherwise give a clue.
"Since you can't get undressed here, you can at least dry off a little bit. I'm sure nobody would be upset if you at least took that jacket and shirt off. And maybe those shoes, and socks if you're wearing them. Those get nasty in rain." Daken is immediately distracted when Lester arrives, though. There's nothing short of a deity or massive threat appearing (sometimes the same thing) that could tear his attention from watching the man dry himself off.
Emery's mouth hangs open slightly as the mug of hot chocolate is placed in front of him. His entire face turns red in embarrassment. “Um, th-thank you,” he says quietly. He reaches out and rests his hands on the mug, bringing it up to his lips to blow over the top of it. “You, uh, you didn't have to do that. Not really how most people would react to being insulted...”
Daken's suggestion only causes him to turn more red. “Um. Uh.” He sets the mug down to cool some more and stands up, reaching out to take the towels. Giving an uncertain look around, he sets one of the towels on the chair seat to absorb the water and sits on it, then reaches down to untie his laces. “Shoes are ruined anyways,” he mumbles. “Good thing they aren't expensive at least.”
Once he's taken off his sneakers, he peels his socks off and stuffs them into one of the shoes. He'll have to wear them out, the sneakers at least, but he'll toss the socks on the way. “I'd rather not take my jacket off. It's a windbreaker, most of my top half is dry anyways...” He trails off, looking a little uncomfortable. Taking one of the other towels, he brings it up and starts drying off his head. “That was... really nice of you, by the way. I'm sorry for being rude earlier.”
Lester shrugs at the thanks, pausing in toweling off his head to look at the kid. His expression isn't any more friendly than it has been, but there's less danger in that flat stare. He runs the towel into the neck of his shirt, lifting the material away from his chest to get down in there. Intentional or not, it's definitely a show for at least one person at the table. The second thanks gets a scoff of a laugh from the former assassin. "Bein' cold and wet fuckin' sucks," he says, then. "And I'm an asshole." That established, he takes a sip of his coffee without blowing on it.
"Lester's bigger than that." A lot bigger, Daken adds, to himself. But he doesn't let his mind wander too much to more exciting mental images. Finally, he turns his eyes back to the boy before him and, with a smooth motion, he seats himself next to Lester. "I'm Daken. This stunning hunk next to me is Lester. I'd bet you can salvage the shoes, you'd just need to dry them out. If you have a radiator or something, I recommend that."
The smile returns, but it's warm again and as innocuous as Lester's own expression, though slightly more outwardly pleasant. "Thank you for the chai," he comments, reaching down to take up the bowl-like cup and breathing in the warm, sweet vapors. "Mmm. As long as you're comfortable. Personally, I'm not that fond of wearing clothes," he remarks, as if it were the most casual thing in the world to say to someone you'd just met. "Especially above the waist."
Emery manages a chuckle at Lester's blatant self-assessment. “Well. I'm usually not such an asshole, so, sorry. I was just... well, you said it. Being cold and wet doesn't exactly make for a friendly disposition.” As he finishes toweling off his hair, he sets the wet towel on the edge of the table. Then he reaches out and picks his mug up, to take a sip of the hot chocolate. “Um, I'm Emery. And I'm typically more comfortable in clothes. Especially above the waist,” he adds with a smirk. “People wonder why I wear a windbreaker, but it's times like today that I'm glad I do. Toldja, electronics 'n... stuff.” His nose twitches and he tilts his head at Daken, but doesn't say anything.
Lester grunts when Daken thanks him for the tea, his eyes sliding sideways to regard the mutant with a hint of...something in his sapphire gaze. When Daken speaks of his preference for less clothing, his snort is loud enough to draw attention briefly from other patrons. "Ain't that the fuckin' truth," he says, shaking his head. "He's always findin' reasons to take off his shirt." He -sounds- annoyed about it, but that's a bit of a smile that plays at the corners of his tight mouth, and his eyes glitter briefly as he looks down at his coffee. "What about electronics?" he asks Emery, looking up sharply. "You bionic or somethin'?"
"You should see Lester's body," Daken comments, just as casually as all the rest. He glances over, then just takes his sip of chai. Once it's swallowed down, he licks his lips and lowers the cup, returning all the pinpoint scrutiny to Emery and his possibly cybernetic body. He doesn't *think* he's a cyborg, but it's possible. Stranger things have happened.
Emery looks startled for a moment. Shaking his head, he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. The blush hasn't gone away. “No, s'not that. I'm normal. Well, as normal as can be or... something?” He shrugs, then reaches into his jacket. From the inside pocket of his left side he withdraws what looks to be some kind of headset with a visor. ”I just have some gadgets on me, that's all. This little baby for example.”
Slipping the headset back into his pocket, Emery glances at Daken and really scrutinizes him for the first time. “I guess I can see why. He must, uh, I mean... I've always thought if you have nice ink, it's worth showing off. Right? Or... something,” The last two words are more mumbled than spoken. “I'm not really much of a tattoo person. On me, that is. I don't really care what other people do.”
Lester gives Daken a hard look when he mentions his body, and shakes his head. "Not for a hot chocolate, he ain't," he says, and sulks with his coffee for a moment. His eyes flick over the visor when it comes out, and track it to the kid's pocket. "So, you got some fancy Walkman with sunglasses attached?" He sounds largely unimpressed. "Big deal. I've been to Sharper Image, too. They got one of them knock-off lamps that's supposed to look like some doohickey of Superman's. A Zone Injector or some shit." He bobs his head. "It's pretty cool."
The comments about tattoos gets a shrug, and a rub of his forehead. "I ain't much for 'em, myself," he says. and sighs. "He wears 'em pretty well, though." It's a rare compliment from Lester for Daken, and he grinds it out from somewhere deep and reluctant.
The headset draws Daken's attention, sure as anything. He's not able to get too much of an analysis going, but he can appraise its quality and advancement at a glance, at least. Impressive, for someone just casually having gadgetry around...though he's aware, and reminded more than adequately by Lester's reaction, that they have some pretty impressive tech themselves, even if it's technically for use only in the field.
"It's important to keep things like that dry, I understand. I assume your jacket is hydrophobic." Daken notes, but then his cheeks color just a touch, at that uncommon praise from Lester. His smile turns into a very real grin, and he just drinks down more of his chai instead of addressing it in words.
Emery shoots Lester a faint glare. Though not too much of one. “For your information, this headset is capable of syncing with a lot of different devices. Hmph,” he mutters indignantly. At the question about his jacket, the boy shrugs. “I mean, it's nothing fancy. It's just really good at keeping water off me. And everything else. I don't wear it just for that, not like you expect to get suddenly rained on. It's also stylish,” he indicates as he extends his arms as if showing it off. “I'm not much for brand or anything like that, but nothing wrong with looking nice.” Another look-over of Daken and he smiles faintly. “As I'm sure you can appreciate.” Even though Daken's idea of looking nice is significantly less clothing than Emery's.
The kid's reaction to his assessment of the gadget actually gets a lift of Lester's eyebrows. He almost looks impressed. Only, then there is talk of Emery's jacket, and Lester can only cover his mouth with his fingertips and stare as the kid lists its attributes (is he actually modeling it?). When the kid finishes, Lester lifts his hand from his mouth to gesture at the empty air. "That's pretty fuckin' practical," is his offering. "I just got a belt with pouches."
"Of course! I wear clothes professionally." Daken notes, with a bright laugh. "Maybe that's why I try to do it as little as possible in my leisure time." It's not surprising that he would be a model, with his looks. He finally does set his cup down, letting Lester say what he does, before chiming in. "I enjoyed that other little black number, with the single pouch." His grin takes a decidedly wicked gleam to it. "Though I'm sure I could have dealt with it if you wore the belt instead."
Emery narrows his eyes at Lester suspiciously again. “Are you making fun of me?” He's not sure, clearly. “Because that isn't very nice. You're giving me awfully mixed signals here,” he says with the faintest smile as he takes another sip of his hot chocolate. Daken's comment causes Emery's eyebrows to draw together in a slight bit of confusion. Clearly, he's not getting it. “So, uh, anyways. I'm a lot more dry now than I was before, so thanks again.” He lifts his butt up just enough to get the towel out from under him, setting it on the edge of the table alongside the other one. At least the dirty looks have stopped being aimed his way.
"I don't make fun of people," Lester says simply, hiking his eyebrows and glaring at Daken for his comments on Lester's...alternate outfits. "When I want to hurt someone, I don't go for their fuckin' feelings." He tips a hand, palm up and and shrugs. The thanks for Daken gets a smirk. "So, you're some kind of tech guy?" he verifies. "Like Lex Luthor or Tony Stark?"
"Lester is a master of many things, beating around the bush is not one of them." Daken keeps his cup between his palms, not yet lifting it for another drink, listening instead to the conversation at the table and the other ones happening around them. Most aren't too interesting, but he's careful to make sure. Information is one of his specialties, after all.
His fuller attention resumes once Emery starts to tell more about himself. If the boy is a tech genius, he may be worth keeping an eye on.
Emery narrows his eyes at Lester. He's not going to probe further into the feelings thing, because that's a whole can of worms he doesn't want to open. “Not nearly that fancy,” he says with a huff. “Those guys are wizards in the tech community. I just have a few gadgets.” Pausing, he adds “Right now, that is. I could have more if I felt like it. I just, uh, don't have those kinda resources or anything. I'm just as smart as they are. Maybe smarter!” The conviction in his voice is admirable, considering he's putting himself at the level of Stark himself.
Shrugging, he slumps back in his seat. “Not hard to build crazy gizmos when you're loaded, that is. Or have other people build 'em for you.” Frowning, he adds “I'm not gonna be one of those, though. Not gonna get caught up in someone else's bullshit and let them make a dime off my smarts. Nope.” Crossing his arms, he frowns indignantly at the thought. He glances over at Daken, who appears to just be quietly listening to his rant.
Lester grins at Daken's assessment, and he sits up a tiny bit taller in his seat. puffing his chest out a bit. "Resources ain't hard to get, if you're clever," he says sagely, sipping at his coffee. The comments about being caught up in someone else's bullshit make him frown and glance at Daken. "I feel ya, kid," he says, nodding slowly. "But there's somethin' to be said for someone else footin' the bill."
"Lester's right." Daken eases back to sit against his chair. Outside, the rain picks up, and it's loud against the glass of the windows as the wind presses it up against the wall. "You know, we're acquainted with someone who has a great deal of resources he could put at one's disposal...if one played one's cards right." The grin turns only slightly wicked, but his tone is so soothing. It's like every word he speaks is made of silk and drifting lightly on a breeze just blown for it alone. "You could achieve your potential, with resources like that."
Emery narrows his eyes at the pair of men. “Yeah, well. I get that. But that's how they get you. Once you're under their thumb, there's no getting out from under it.” He looks slightly dejected at the last words he said. “You just know sooner or later they're gonna come calling for favors and you're stuck saying yes, whether you wanna or not.” From the way he's talking, it sounds like he has something specific in mind.
Shaking his head, Emery brightens up a bit. “Anyways, it's not like I'm in a rush or anything. I have my whole, long life ahead of me. I'm sure I'll figure it out sooner or later. No need to, uh, rush into anything hasty or something like that.” Shrugging with one shoulder, he seems to relax somewhat. “You know, for a couple of intimidating guys... you're not so bad I guess.” Taking another sip of hot chocolate, he adds “And I suppose it helps being easy on the eyes.” There's a twinkle of mirth and mischief in his tone.
"Nobody makes me do nothin' I don't wanna do," Lester says flatly, a bit offended that anyone would think he was so blithely for sale. Him! A former mercenary and assassin for hire! The cheek of it! "And life ain't nearly as long as you want it to be." He shrugs, and takes a long drink of his coffee. He's not going to address how bad he or Daken actually are. And their hotness speaks for itself. Although.... "It definitely don't hurt."
The compliment lands well with Daken, who clearly prides himself in his appearance. He has to, to wear as little as he tries to at all times and manage to turn heads without trying. "We should exchange numbers. That way, if you want to know more...well, you've got us on your side. We can choose where to direct our intimidating qualities." And hotness, but that goes without saying. This kid hasn't come over to Daken's place yet. He has no idea.
Emery gives Lester a look. “Yeah, well. Some of us... aren't so lucky.” He shrugs. “Every now and then, sometimes, you make a mistake. And it costs you. Just sayin'.” Daken's offer nets a suspicious look from Emery. He seems to be considering it. “I guess it can't hurt. But if you start sending me weird text messages, I'm blocking you. Just warning you up front.” He doesn't expand on what classifies as 'weird' though. Reaching into his right jacket pocket, he pulls out a rather new model smartphone. “Go ahead and gimme your digits and I'll text you.” Pausing, he adds “That doesn't mean I'm taking you up on your offer. Just... I don't know many people in town yet, so it can't hurt.” Smirking faintly, he adds “Besides, I wouldn't mind having some muscle 'on my side' as you said. I'm not exactly the fighting type.” Gesturing to his small frame.
"We can fix that, too," Lester says of Emery's physique with a sudden slash of a grin. "I'm like Mister Miyagi or some shit," he jerks his chin at Daken. "Only he's the Japanese one, so I'm probably more like John Kreese." He lifts a shoulder. "Either way."
After Lester makes his Karate Kid ref, Daken leans back to angle his body, flexing all of those nicely-moistened torso muscles as he does. He slides a hand down into his pants and produces a phone, flicking it unlocked and sliding it across the table. "The smallest attackers can be the most dangerous." Daken states this very flatly, and almost instantly as Emery tries to present his stature as an obstacle to fighting. "But you're very perceptive, if you've noticed that we're not just well-muscled. Both of us are well-trained fighters."
Emery shoots Lester a puzzled look. Glancing at Daken with the same look, he shrugs. “I uh... I wasn't actually saying that. I just meant, y'know, muscles are good at beating people up and stuff. As opposed to, well, me.” Taking the unlocked phone, he heads to Contacts and begins inputting his number.
“So, you know I'm a tech guy and you're just handing over your phone? Aren't you worried I'll, like, backdoor hack it or something?” He says it so casually it's as if he's talking about the weather. But all he does is put his number in and text himself so he can get Daken's. “I mean, what if I found all your nudes and sent them to myself then deleted the trail. Or something.” He slides the phone back. He's kidding, of course.
"Then I'd kill you," Lester says, and the way he says it sounds as casual as Emery did, but there's little doubt that it would happen. Mostly because he watches every keystroke. "And then I'd have a fancy walkman with sunglasses."
Daken snorts laughing at that exchange. "Don't kill him, Lester. If he wants nudes, he's just young. After all, the real thing is so much better." And that smile, slightly dangerous, returns to his face as he reaches down to scoop up his cup again. He takes it up to his mouth and seems to be doing everything so slowly, so intentionally, sipping and then swallowing, adam's apple bobbing as the liquid gulps down his throat.
Emery gives Lester a wide-eyed look. “Sheesh. Sugar coat it, why don'tcha. I was just kidding, you know. Don't worry, I won't move in on your boyfriend.” As he pockets his own phone, he says “So what if I'm young? Nothing wrong with that. Age before beauty just means you'll go to that big place in the sky before I do,” he says with a smirk. Pausing, he frowns. “Okay, that sounded better in my head than when I said it.”
"You wanna fuck him, go ahead," Lester says, lifting a shoulder and glancing at Daken as if gauging his interest. "You should. He's fuckin' awesome. But keep my business quiet." He smiles a wide, toothy grin that seems more threatening than any other expression he's offered, and lifts his coffee in a winking salute. "I mean, if you want to stay out of that big place in the sky."
Daken lowers his cup to the table, resting it there, and then props his cheek on his hand. "I think you need to work on your phrasing," he gently offers to Emery. And even though it's plenty gentle, even for Daken, there's an underlying "or else" quality to it. But it's politely unsaid, and he looks so pleasant-tempered.
He's probably more dangerous than the guy with a bullseye on his forehead, if you get him upset.
Emery blushes deeply at the pair's comments. “I wasn't threatening you or anything. And my phrasing is, well... it's not my strong suit, okay? Cut me some slack,” he pouts. Glancing at Lester, he adds “There will be no fucking, thankyouverymuch. Nope. None.” His eyes are slightly wide at those words. “I'll just take your word for it that he's a Casanova in the sheets or whatnot.” He takes another sip of his chocolate which has cooled, but is still good.
"Suit yourself," is Lester's response to Emery's demurral. "Your loss." His coffee almost gone, he stands, and nods at the kid. "You're all right," he declares. "You've got our number." He turns to Daken. "I'm gonna see if they've got that Ludlum book I told you about." He finger-guns at Emery. "Take it easy, kid. Watch that mouth." And with that, he's off to find the latest airport terminal best-seller.
"Casanova was known for being a good lover, but better known for being a promising flirt." With a chuckle, Daken glances up to Lester and reaches forward to bring his cup up and drain it. Then he sets the large, empty cup down, and it makes a clacking sound. With an easy movement, he reaches over to reclaim his phone and tuck it back into his very tight, very narrow pocket, stretching his arms up and then wiggling the fingers of one hand to Emery.
The poor kid's going to need some time to unwind after this close encounter of the weird kind.