progresscity | i see in red but you see everything in blue

Entry tags:

i see in red but you see everything in blue

Who: Keith & Lance; Keith & You (I'm writing in prose but I can switch to action spam for anyone)
What: Living with paladins; getting more familiar with the parks outside of MK
Where: Vista Way; Hollywood Studios
When: mid-April
Warnings: Dumb teenage boys probably

( VISTA WAY | closed )

They're not exactly the best of friends but they are at least making an effort in making this work in this weird new world they've been sucked into by the power of their bracelets. Lance's positivity has been helpful, Keith has to admit, and the two of them figuring out Progress City and what's going on behind it has at least given them some kind of cause to rally behind. Results so far have been inconclusive but that's because he's also begun to take his new responsibilities pretty seriously since he doesn't want to... get kicked out.

So. They're still getting used to being in such close quarters having been granted their separate living spaces on the castle-ship. ( There are houses they can move into once they can afford it. Not that he intends on staying very long but, it's an interesting thought. )

They end their shifts at around the same time, changing out of their sort of embarrassing (in Keith's case, very embarrassing) work outfits, settling into more relaxed clothes and sweats with bags of chips open on the table and open jars and tupperwares of various dips because what else are two teenage boys going to eat for dinner now that they're left to their own devices?

"Pass the cheese?" Keith asks through a full mouth of purple chips, as if he doesn't have a hundred things weighing on his mind. Better to turn the television set on. It's on a promotional advertisement for Progress City and, honestly, it's a pretty entrancing thing.

( HOLLYWOOD STUDIOS | open )

Keith meant to do some exploring. And normally he is more singleminded than that, but as soon as he settles in the theatre in the Animation Courtyard, he's caught watching episode after episode of The Twilight Zone. It's not something he ever watched as a kid, though he did sort of get those references people would make about it.

( One could even say he's entered the Twilight Zone himself multiple times as a Paladin. )

He's in the back of the theatre, but he's leaned forward, mouth half open, entranced.

( OR )

Keeping with the theme of the day, the Tower of Terror is a strangely beautiful building. Even Keith feels transported to a different time and place. Fiddling with his now red and white band, which looks more like his armor, he sighs impatiently as the line shuffles forward.

After his first ride on Space Mountain with Lance, the boy's looking for some thrills.

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He'd figured out early enough that he was going to have to be the more positive one, since they don't have Shiro or Allura to do it for them; it's a bit of an effort, all things considered, because some habits are like cockroaches in the sense that they could probably survive an effective apocalypse and Keith's penchant for both impatience and surliness are two of the largest of those bugs, so. Here is Lance, doing the best he can and being the best he can be in the face of both the unfamiliar and the downright unknown.

( We might just be leaving out the fact that this one had been a bit surly himself when he'd found out the kind of job Keith had ended up with, which is a heck of a lot more palatable than cleaning up everyone else's garbage, but. Beggars can't be choosers and at least they have a place to stay for now, a bed to sleep in and a roof over their heads, even if they're in much closer quarters than the castle-ship had allowed. Just one more thing to get used to. )

He's exhausted when his shift ends, and he almost doesn't want to waste the energy it would take to change out of his uniform, but he knows good and well he'll be more comfortable if he does, and here he is again, looking every bit the sloppy sort of teenager being a paladin hadn't exactly allowed for, perhaps minus the fact that he'd at least stopped long enough to wash the day from his face. ( He still needs moisturizer. He really needs to look into that. )

"Which one?" he asks around his own mouthful, waving a hand in the direction of the containers and their contents. He's pretty sure at least two of these things are made of cheese, given their different orange shades.

Wherever Hunk is, he's probably about to have an aneurysm over these two trying to fend for themselves. RIP.

He has to give Lance credit here, for trying to be somewhat optimistic even if the both of them have tendencies to stay too much in their own heads in their own ways. He appreciates it even if he doesn't actually... say it. The start of his thanks began, at least, with bringing all these snacks that shouldn't be dinner but they don't know better and Hunk isn't here to give them space pasta.

( The Fantasy outfit is the worst, Lance. You're at least more fashionable. )

"Umm. The spiciest one," Keith decides, dumping the remains of the purple tortilla chips into the bowl between the two of them, dividing the napkins ( well, folded paper towels ) between them as well. Maybe they should. Talk about things other than dip though.

"Anything happen today?" AKA 'How was your day?'

They might. Yeah. Kind of have a tendency to get lost in their own thoughts even if it carries them into some sort of downward spiral that isn't all that great — which is something that comes around even more frequently when they aren't united as a group, and have access to distractions like Hunk experimenting with space goo or Pidge tinkering around with a new piece of tech that may or may not give anyone close enough a nice little jolt of electricity — but they are, effectively, all each other has by way of familiarity in this place so far, so. It's probably good that he's the one trying to maintain the optimism here.

( Aw, you don't wanna be known as Fantasy Mullet forever, buddy? Too bad, it's happening. At least you're not a glorified garbage man. )

Lance takes a second to peer at the containers in front of them, choosing the one that looks like it should be the spiciest, since it has bits of peppers and all, sliding it across the table in Keith's general direction. He then checks out the containers again for anything that looks like it might resemble salsa, because as great as queso happens to be, he's not feeling it just yet.

( God help these poor idiots. )

"Um." He starts, then stops, brows pinching just a bit as he thinks back through his day. "Not … really?" There's nothing incredibly exciting about emptying trash. He folds himself into a cross-legged position and chews on a mouthful of chips thoughtfully before continuing. "How's things in the realm of princess-guarding?"

He's so jealous. He's so jealous you have no idea.

"Thanks."

Keith flips the cap off that spicy cheese concoction and dips two thick tortilla chips into the orange-y goodness. Yep, that's the stuff. And until either of them decide that maybe it's healthier that they get food made at one of the many eateries in the neighborhood, it's pretty darn satisfying to eat in the interim. He tags a swig of water ( at least he's drinking that because when you're a boy who trains as hard as keith does regularly, you can't break that water-drinking habit ) to wash it down.

"Oh, uh." He makes a face. "I don't really talk much to the princesses. Or the other people." He really is the worst Fantasy Mullet because he's not here to make friends. He's here to do his job for now.

"I think the mermaid is nice. I don't know her, though." But Keith. You probably .... should at least say more than hi, please stand here.

"Yep."

It really is something ( or would be ) to watch these two from the sidelines, being every bit the teenagers they rarely get a chance to be, what with the whole lack of robot space lions and imminent danger thing they have going for them; they look almost like a pair of normal roommates, sprawled as they are, engaging in the most mundane of conversations, eating the kind of junk that they're absolutely not going to be able to metabolize the same way when they're older —

~~And that sure was three minutes and nineteen seconds of not being here to make friends. We get it, Keef. You're not here to make friends.~~ But maybe … you should at least make a bit of an effort to get to know your charges? Isn't that what ( effective ) bodyguards are supposed to do?

"The mermaid? Keith, they have names." Or. He assumes they do. Princesses have names. "At least you're not picking up garbage …" Garbage boy is not happy about this. Count your blessings, you shitlord.

No imminent danger for now; there is a lot to question and Keith at least is in the parks often enough to attempt to investigate but... considering how few people he ends up interacting with that aren't park visitors, he hasn't gotten very far. It isn't like him, feeling this stagnant. It's frustrating, to say the least.

"Ariel," Keith answers, as if remembering her name just then. Maybe you should actually talk to her, Keith. You do watch over her when you have that shift.

"I haven't spent much time in the other parks yet," he muses in between bites. "We –" ( You hear him! ) "– should check the rest out, like in depth."

Hey, he's with you there; at least in the sense that the number of people he interacts with is roughly ninety percent park-goers, and even if he thought more than once in a blue ( … ha ) moon to ask questions, it wouldn't get him anywhere. He's basically been making some measure of sideways progress in the form of getting more familiar with his surroundings, but the reality of it is he's getting exactly nowhere in the larger scheme of things.

They're still just as clueless as they had been when they'd stepped onto the monorail. Par for the course, or something, isn't it?

At least Lance is satisfied that the other boy does know her name; he's quiet for a couple of chip-crunching seconds before he swallows and sinks down a bit lower in his current position, fiddling with the seam on his pants before he realizes he's fidgeting and stops. "Yeah, guess we should," he hums like he's actually thinking about it. Because it would really be a great idea. Shiro would be proud of them for thinking to take the initiative to try to figure things out.

"So … when d'you wanna go?" To the other parks, he means. Because this place is so much bigger than he'd originally thought. Not. That that means anything. He has zero frame of reference.

It's a bit difficult, admittedly, to figure things out when it looks as if the administrative figures have no clue as to what is going on. The whole thing seems to be falling apart and Keith is not at all happy to be part of it when they have their own messes to take care of back ... in space. In their home universe, anyway. ( Alternate universes are strange to visit. What if they run into yet another version of Shiro? What if he was Australian this time? )

"I'm off in two days," Keith offers as his own agreement, leaning back with his glass of water in his hand. "I haven't seen the Studios park."

He sinks into the couch and seems satisfied with their own progress at least. Working together as they had been trying too prior to all of this confusion.

( Australian Shiro would be … something. Definitely something. But please don't make him think of more alternate universes. His head hurts enough already. )

Lance just keeps right on crunching for a second or two more before finally giving his jaw a rest, trying to think of whether or not he'd memorized his schedule correctly; he has it written down somewhere, he swears! But he's pretty sure he's got the same day off as Keith, so, you know. That lines of pretty well. "I think I do too." He leans back a bit himself, humming in thought. "I've got my schedule written down somewhere … I'll check it. But better sooner rather than later. I don't wanna get lost in this place more than I already have."

He's. Totally using that as an excuse. Which is valid, honestly. This kid is about as directionally challenged without his Lion as any moron would be in the middle of the forest without a compass.

Keith notices suddenly that they're out of water and slowly pushes himself to his feet with both glasses this time. Partially to be nice and partially to have something to do because it's not like he can burn energy these days fighting castle-programmed robots and holograms.

Ugh.

Over his shoulder, he replies, "They don't train you for this kind of work at the Garrison."

Keith. Attempting to make some kind of joke? It's not a very good one but it is an attempt at something.

Must suck to be someone that isn't content to burn off steam by going through a rigorous beauty regimen — er, rather, a strenuous moisturizing routine, god no that's even worse isn't it — but. All right. He feels for the guy, really, because it has to be difficult to not have anything around him to beat up near-constantly.

( At least he hasn't gotten so tightly-wound that he's started picking fights with this one. Which would only be fair since, earlier in their acquaintance-paladin-friend-ship it had been Lance that started the picking. It would really only be his right to do it now, when he has no other outlet. )

Anyway.

It doesn't have to be a good attempt at a joke ( because it really isn't, really ) to get Lance chuckling, if only just a little, because he understands that Keith is trying and it's admirable. And so maybe that chuckle is more of a snort, but it still counts, okay. "They really don't. Maybe they should." He raises both hands in front of him, like he's spelling out some grand advertisement. "'You too could be carried away to a different dimension! World? Thing!'" Lance. "'You'll want to be prepared for it!'"

He pauses long enough to look over his shoulder, curious. "Needs a better tagline, but I'm betting it would become a staple course."

L a n c e.

"Keep the tagline and sweet," Keith suggests idly, coming around the couch with their now-filled glasses of water. He flops down onto the cushion with a slump. There is a hint of an amused smile on his face as he begins to picture the preliminary class for such excursions. "Be prepared for any multidimensional situation."

He leans back and stretches an arm across the backrest, far enough from lance so that it isn't ... weird. The channel he chose previously is back to boring commercials so he reaches for the remote and flips through their limited selections again.

"I didn't think I missed watching tv until we got one here," he admits.

"That honestly sounds like something you'd expect to hear in like. Some cheesy futuristic sci-fi movie." He pauses, snags his newly-filled glass with a nod of thanks. "I'd watch it. Probably."

By illegally downloading it. Onto Pidge's laptop. If it actually existed and he wouldn't end up missing a couple of fingers for touching the tech-geek-god's things. He needs those fingers. For. Stuff.

While Keith is busy being not-weird on the other end of the couch, this one decides he's going to stuff himself with another mouthful of chips; he chews, swallows, finally unfolds himself to brace his feet on the table in front of them. There's a little bit of a sideways peek in his direction before he decides screw it and goes for it.

"What kind of stuff did you watch?"

… Okay. So it isn't the million dollar question. Or even the sixty-four thousand one. But you rarely get straight answers out of one ( 1 ) Keith Kogane, even if you ask straight questions. It's a gamble.

"Mostly weird kid shows with slime being dumped on people... I liked that show Recess," Keith recalls as if childhood was that far away. "Whatever the families wanted to watch too. One of the kids wanted to watch these dumb Canadian teen shows." He makes a face at the memory. That's more information than he's probably given anyone in several years.

He's in a giving mood tonight, apparently.

The television isn't very interesting at the moment so he leaves it on another promotional channel advertising the resorts and turns his full attention onto Lance, brushing some hair away from his eyes.

"What about you? I probably missed a ton of stuff."

Help the child.

"Oh you mean like … dang, what was it called. Double Dare?" He's pretty sure that was it. There weren't a whole lot of shows involving slime, so that has to be it, because it's the first thing that comes to mind and generally speaking his first guesses are the right ones.

( And if you believe that, hey, there's some sketchy-ass property somewhere that needs buying up. You might wanna get on that. )

He's really not. Aware of the last time Keith talked this much without a fair bit of prodding — has he ever talked this much without prodding? — and the sudden focus on him doesn't so much make him uncomfortable as it does find him feeling like he's suddenly under the spotlight, some level of performance anxiety that he could easily hide if this was like. A slight simulation or something. Even a head-on Galra encounter, because he would be safely inside his Lion and it's easy enough to pretend like you're keeping your cool when no one else can see you freaking out.

Uh. Anyway. Where was that thought process headed? Oh. "Mostly whatever my brothers and sister wanted to watch," he starts out, idly picking at a seam in his jeans like it's suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. He isn't going to think about missing them. And he isn't going to think about the fact that he might have dredged up some unwanted childhood memories for the one sitting next to him just by asking what he watched on television. Because they hadn't exactly grown up in the same sort of setting.

He waves a hand. "Luis really liked this one show, Are You Afraid of the Dark? … because he liked to pretend that the stories were super scary and he was super brave for not being scared." He laughs. "They weren't scary."

[faintly, from the front of the theater]

BOO! PLAY SOMETHING ELSE! THIS IS CLEARLY PROPAGANDA!

[popcorn is then thrown at the screen. except it isn't, because she accidentally lets go too early and it goes. soaring on back. good thing his mouth is open right.]

... WHOOPS.

[ he expects the yelling, honestly. from what he's gathered, people are wary of everything and so is he.

what he doesn't expect is getting a... popcorn right in the kisser. ]

Um. Thank you.

[she walks back towards him then, stepping from the back of one seat to another until she's in the row in front of him. it looks weirdly practiced, like she's done this often enough before.]

Can I have that back, actually? I can't afford more. [she works one shift a week and spends all her money on candy and cool rocks.]

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