10∙00∙00 ☇ video.

[saidrepent]

[Hello, City. Raymond is once again addressing the network, although he's got the camera on this time — and, as can probably be expected by the curse of the day, he's only half-dressed. He's leaned back in a chair, only wearing a pair of pants that look (somehow) tighter than his usual dress, and the lack of shirt gives a nice view not only of his toned abdomen (and the matching bullet scars in both of his shoulders) but also the glowing green body clock on his left arm. He also looks thoroughly pleased with himself.]

Turns out this is a pretty good way of beating the whole sand in your clothes problem...though I wonder if it'd work even better with even less than this.

[He leans forward a bit, towards the camera, spreading his legs in the same motion and thereby leaving little to the imagination.]

What do you think?

Comments

[mintjulep]

How's the shoulder?

[ Just. Ignoring the rest of that. ]

[saidrepent]

Just fine. [He leans back again, legs still spread and a lazy smirk on his face. Too bad for you, Bones.] Is that all you've got to say?

[thewildone]

I bet it would.

[saidrepent]

Yeah? [There's a slight grin at that.] So do I.

[intheblanks]

I think you might want to consider whether getting grit in uncomfortable places is the reason we came up with clothes in the first place.

[Not that he's overdressed himself, today. He just doesn't think sandy balls sound that hot.]

[thewildone]

Clothes are more trouble than they're worth a lot of the time.

[saidrepent]

Oh, I know. But the lack of clothes does make it more convenient to deal with.

Besides, what's the point of having all this if you don't show it off?

[saidrepent]

Agreed.

Funny how it took me until just recently to realize that.

[thewildone]

Hey, what's that thing on your arm?

[saidrepent]

This? [For once, he doesn't mind showing it off. He holds it more clearly in the camera's view; the glowing digits read 0000∙00∙0∙04∙43∙17.] It's my clock.

[thewildone]

Yeah? What time is it?

[saidrepent]

[He snorts at that.]

It's stopped at four hours, forty-three minutes, and seventeen seconds. That was how much time I had left before I wound up here.

[thewildone]

Time left for what?

[saidrepent]

To live.

[thewildone]

Oh, uh, nevermind, man. Just take your pants off or whatever.

[saidrepent]

[He snorts again.] Fair enough.

[And off they go.]

[mintjulep]

Tight pants can help reduce sperm count, you know.

[saidrepent]

I'm not looking to reproduce anytime soon, but it's comforting to know you're concerned with the state of things down there.

[mintjulep]

I'm a doctor. I point out health hazards.

[thewildone]

[Curt takes a moment to contemplate this surprisingly successful method of changing the subject.]

I should really get going, but enjoy your method of sand control.

[saidrepent]

You can just say you were checking me out, you know. I won't be offended. [If anything, he looks like he'd be pleased to hear it.]

[mintjulep]

[ Nope. He is absolutely refusing to analyze that look right now. ] I don't "check out" my patients.

[saidrepent]

[Surprisingly successful both because of the curse and how not fussed he was over his time in the first place.] Already on it, but thanks.

[saidrepent]

[That's too bad, because he's going to keep getting it.] Who said I have to be your patient right now?

[mintjulep]

Considering I'm attempting to double-check on your bullet wound, me.