Tipping a wink to the Courier, Arcade said, “You heard it, he challenged me,” before closing the distance between Boone and himself. Not allowing Boone even a second to process the situation, Arcade dived at his companion and applied himself to the strategic application of rib tickling. I’m a doctor, I know all of your weak spots, Arcade had time to think before his fingers spidered over Boone’s ribs. There was an exceedingly shocked gasp from Boone and the Courier in tandem, and Arcade had just a moment to feel a jolt of terror run through his gut at the possible repercussions awaiting his failure, before the air was filled by deep, sandpapery chuckles. Arcade lifted his head sharply, to make sure he wasn’t experiencing a hope-fueled auditory hallucination, and saw that yes, Craig Boone was indeed laughing.
Knowing that he couldn’t stop now, Arcade skittered his fingers over Boone’s rib cage before allowing them to trail down over Boone’s heaving stomach. By now, Boone was leaning back, quite in danger of falling over, and grasping Arcade’s forearm in a weak attempt to stop him. Allowing his hands to migrate to Boone’s sides and nip maddeningly at the toned flesh, Arcade tickled Boone much like you would a child, surprised all the while at the reaction he was getting.
This was the last straw, and Boone fell over backwards, cawing madly all the while. Arcade followed him gamely, eventually coming to straddle the smaller man and tickle him on the pecks. For the moment, Arcade had lost all fear of the inevitable revenge to be visited upon him later, and found himself laughing along, belly heaving to the sound of Boone’s surprised guffaws. After the Courier got over her initial shock, she too couldn’t help but join in disbelievingly, her pearly feminine laughter tinkling in the air.
Boone’s glasses lay askew, more off of his face than on, and his beloved beret had fallen to the ground. “S-stop,” Boone choked out between laughs, bringing a hand to his face to wipe at the tears rolling down his cheeks. Arcade, laughing so hard that the muscles of his stomach were beginning to ache incredibly, gave Boone’s ribs one more good flourish with his fingers before rolling off of Boone, and laying in the dirt. The group laughed manically for a good minute longer before their uncontrollable laughter began to dry up. The Courier hiccupped out a few more good laughs before she was left to regain her breath and wipe the moisture from her eyes. Boone lay upon the ground, utterly spent, and more than a little unsure of how to process what had just happened. Eventually, his eyes stopped watering, and pain in his stomach muscles subsided, leaving him with that dull, yet satisfying ache left in the wake of a good belly laugh. Arcade, the first to gain control of himself after their fit of laughter, laid on the ground. His belly muscles ached too, but then again, so did his stomach. While the former was pleasant, the latter was an unsavory, bubbling fear at what Boone was going to do to him.
But, god, was it worth it to see the look on his face, Arcade thought, dazed. And that laugh? Priceless, Arcade thought, and at that moment decided that no matter the pain that would be inflicted in retaliation, it had been worth it. He could hear Boone struggling to his feet beside him and thought here it comes….
Craig Boone loomed over him, looking particularly bald and stern without his beret or glasses. Boone’s face was pinched and tight lipped, but that was no indication as the man always looked like he sucked lemons for fun. After a moment which seemed like an eternity to Gannon, Boone offered his hand. Incredulous, Arcade accepted it and struggled to his feet. The Courier too, was standing, perceptive enough to realize that she may need to break up what she would refer to as a cat fight.
“I guess I deserved that,” Boone said after a long minute. “I’ve never been too good at getting along with others. Sorry.”
“That’s—that’s quite alright,” Arcade responded, not believing his ears.
“Just one thing,” Boone grumbled. “That fuck Manny Vargas—did he tell you I was ticklish?”
“Yes,” Arcade replied wisely, pushing his glasses up his nose.
“Thought so. I’m going to kick the shit out of him next time we go to Novak.”
Had A Bad Day? (2b)
Knowing that he couldn’t stop now, Arcade skittered his fingers over Boone’s rib cage before allowing them to trail down over Boone’s heaving stomach. By now, Boone was leaning back, quite in danger of falling over, and grasping Arcade’s forearm in a weak attempt to stop him. Allowing his hands to migrate to Boone’s sides and nip maddeningly at the toned flesh, Arcade tickled Boone much like you would a child, surprised all the while at the reaction he was getting.
This was the last straw, and Boone fell over backwards, cawing madly all the while. Arcade followed him gamely, eventually coming to straddle the smaller man and tickle him on the pecks. For the moment, Arcade had lost all fear of the inevitable revenge to be visited upon him later, and found himself laughing along, belly heaving to the sound of Boone’s surprised guffaws. After the Courier got over her initial shock, she too couldn’t help but join in disbelievingly, her pearly feminine laughter tinkling in the air.
Boone’s glasses lay askew, more off of his face than on, and his beloved beret had fallen to the ground. “S-stop,” Boone choked out between laughs, bringing a hand to his face to wipe at the tears rolling down his cheeks. Arcade, laughing so hard that the muscles of his stomach were beginning to ache incredibly, gave Boone’s ribs one more good flourish with his fingers before rolling off of Boone, and laying in the dirt. The group laughed manically for a good minute longer before their uncontrollable laughter began to dry up. The Courier hiccupped out a few more good laughs before she was left to regain her breath and wipe the moisture from her eyes. Boone lay upon the ground, utterly spent, and more than a little unsure of how to process what had just happened. Eventually, his eyes stopped watering, and pain in his stomach muscles subsided, leaving him with that dull, yet satisfying ache left in the wake of a good belly laugh. Arcade, the first to gain control of himself after their fit of laughter, laid on the ground. His belly muscles ached too, but then again, so did his stomach. While the former was pleasant, the latter was an unsavory, bubbling fear at what Boone was going to do to him.
But, god, was it worth it to see the look on his face, Arcade thought, dazed. And that laugh? Priceless, Arcade thought, and at that moment decided that no matter the pain that would be inflicted in retaliation, it had been worth it. He could hear Boone struggling to his feet beside him and thought here it comes….
Craig Boone loomed over him, looking particularly bald and stern without his beret or glasses. Boone’s face was pinched and tight lipped, but that was no indication as the man always looked like he sucked lemons for fun. After a moment which seemed like an eternity to Gannon, Boone offered his hand. Incredulous, Arcade accepted it and struggled to his feet. The Courier too, was standing, perceptive enough to realize that she may need to break up what she would refer to as a cat fight.
“I guess I deserved that,” Boone said after a long minute. “I’ve never been too good at getting along with others. Sorry.”
“That’s—that’s quite alright,” Arcade responded, not believing his ears.
“Just one thing,” Boone grumbled. “That fuck Manny Vargas—did he tell you I was ticklish?”
“Yes,” Arcade replied wisely, pushing his glasses up his nose.
“Thought so. I’m going to kick the shit out of him next time we go to Novak.”
XxXxX End XxXxX