"It is," he says, shrugging- it's just his house, he's used to it. Though he's glad he has a copy of it here, to retreat every now and then.
He opens the large green sliding doors, and reveals the desks, chairs, the chalkboard in the very back-- and a large pick-up truck parked right in between it all. He looks at her, mouth twitching in amusement. "Christmas present from Nux, that."
It might just be his house, but that's a thing to be proud of, in Rey's opinion. His room is undoubtedly his, there isn't another copy of it anywhere else on the Barge, and to Rey that's wonderful. She's glad for him, glad he gets that. Glad he's had family his whole life to support him.
"I had wondered about that last time," she says, reaching out to run a hand over the side of the truck curiously. "It seemed a little out of place." And then she pauses and looks up at him. "Christmas?"
"It's a holiday, back home- and wherever the Admiral's from, apparently. Apparently in the future it becomes about giving gifts, and we all got to hand in lists for one another."
And Nux got him a car that he can't use- but Tommy's damned if he'd ever show any ingratitude.
"Nux must care about you very much, then." Rey points out, smiling just a little to herself. That's good, Tommy needs people to care about him. "What did you get for him?"
"He's a good lad," he nods, sounding proud and pleased with his inmate. "I got him... goggles and information on how to preserve food. We weren't quite on the same level that time, apparently."
"I wouldn't say that. I'd say exactly the opposite, actually." She looks up at him now, hoping to impress on him just what a good present that is for someone from the type of world Nux comes from. "Have you ever been in a sandstorm without goggles? You probably got him one of the best things he'll ever get in is life."
But she's not really thinking of Nux now, not when they're going up these stairs hand in hand like they had not even a week ago. He'd taken such good care of her then, he's doing it now, determined to see her dry and not catch a cold, and she's just a little overwhelmed by how much she's come to care for him.
She takes her hand out of his and puts it around his waist instead, leans right up against his side while they walk up the stairs.
With a nod, she touches his hand one more time before stepping inside and heading over to the closet to sort through her options and finds immediately that Tommy was very right. There's a lot of straps, a lot of buttons, but eventually she finds something that's plain and actually quite pretty.
The only issue is that no one has ever explained to her the concept of slips, so when she opens the door back up to find Tommy she's in a cream colored silk slip, bare feet, and her hair is drying in curls around her face. Which is probably completely fine and not a problem at all.
He'd been scrolling through his communicator, smoking a quiet cigarette as she gets changed-- but he almost chokes on a fresh inhale when she comes back out.
"That's--"
Jesus Christ, she's beautiful, and he's seen her half-naked, and she was just in his arms in very light, soaked clothing, but it's different. This makes him think of undressing her, of finding her in the morning, doing her hair in front of a mirror--
Fuck. He stubs out his cigarette on the floor and ushers her back inside of the room. "You look lovely, but those are underclothes, and it's not going to keep you any warmer."
She lets him get her back inside but honestly, she has no intention of changing again. She'd checked, the thing isn't something she could see through, it stops just above her knees so it's not too short. There's nothing inappropriate about it when she's covered up more than she had been when he'd put ointment on her back, so this is a discomfort he's just going to have to fight through.
"This is fine, Tommy. Really."
If he's paying attention, he'll see she's laid her clothes out over a chair to dry. There's her shirt and her pants, but there's also also a pair of white cotton panties on the seat, spread out to dry. There's no bra, but there's also no bra straps peaking out from under the slip. She's not trying to make this difficult for him, just interested in being in something comfortable and dry, and all those dresses looked and felt far too heavy. She can deal with a little bit of cold, she'll warm up soon enough.
"At least," he starts, and then sees her underwear and turns back around, closing the door to the bedroom to fumble the silk bathrobe off the hook that's attached to the back of it. He knows why she doesn't think it's a big deal, he knows that she never learned that underwear is something private. But they've only kissed, and he doesn't want her to feel like he's going to take this further than she's comfortable with.
Why, he isn't sure. They haven't talked about it, and likely won't for a bit.
"At least wear this," he says, walking over to her and holding out the robe.
She is thinking of kissing him again, having his hands on her again, but it's all something she'd incredibly comfortable thinking about. Tommy isn't, though, and she frowns at him when she takes the robe from him but she puts it on anyway.
She doesn't tie it closed, though. He's going to have to compromise.
"Women in my time," he starts, trying to explain without making her uncomfortable. "They're very modest. I don't see a lot of knees, let alone something that's practically underwear. Eh? That's all."
"It's probably worth the risk," she decides, and she reaches up to slip both arms around his neck and lean up against him again while she kisses him, soft and careful for a moment before she slants her lips against his just so and parts her lips for him.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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He opens the large green sliding doors, and reveals the desks, chairs, the chalkboard in the very back-- and a large pick-up truck parked right in between it all. He looks at her, mouth twitching in amusement. "Christmas present from Nux, that."
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"I had wondered about that last time," she says, reaching out to run a hand over the side of the truck curiously. "It seemed a little out of place." And then she pauses and looks up at him. "Christmas?"
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And Nux got him a car that he can't use- but Tommy's damned if he'd ever show any ingratitude.
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"That's how he got that scar there."
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But she's not really thinking of Nux now, not when they're going up these stairs hand in hand like they had not even a week ago. He'd taken such good care of her then, he's doing it now, determined to see her dry and not catch a cold, and she's just a little overwhelmed by how much she's come to care for him.
She takes her hand out of his and puts it around his waist instead, leans right up against his side while they walk up the stairs.
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"Go on- pick something uncomplicated. Polly's a fondness for straps and buttons."
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The only issue is that no one has ever explained to her the concept of slips, so when she opens the door back up to find Tommy she's in a cream colored silk slip, bare feet, and her hair is drying in curls around her face. Which is probably completely fine and not a problem at all.
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"That's--"
Jesus Christ, she's beautiful, and he's seen her half-naked, and she was just in his arms in very light, soaked clothing, but it's different. This makes him think of undressing her, of finding her in the morning, doing her hair in front of a mirror--
Fuck. He stubs out his cigarette on the floor and ushers her back inside of the room. "You look lovely, but those are underclothes, and it's not going to keep you any warmer."
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"This is fine, Tommy. Really."
If he's paying attention, he'll see she's laid her clothes out over a chair to dry. There's her shirt and her pants, but there's also also a pair of white cotton panties on the seat, spread out to dry. There's no bra, but there's also no bra straps peaking out from under the slip. She's not trying to make this difficult for him, just interested in being in something comfortable and dry, and all those dresses looked and felt far too heavy. She can deal with a little bit of cold, she'll warm up soon enough.
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Why, he isn't sure. They haven't talked about it, and likely won't for a bit.
"At least wear this," he says, walking over to her and holding out the robe.
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She doesn't tie it closed, though. He's going to have to compromise.
"Is something wrong?"
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She says it very firmly, no fear at all, but she does lean into his hand and shift just a little bit closer to him.
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"You had your hands on me while my shirt was off," she points out, and it's very hard not to start teasing him about it.
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"Can I kiss you now or will you explode because you can see my knees?"
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