IC CONTACT

[allgotrabies]

Hey, it's Annie, you know what to do.

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[madaboutit]

His smile is easy, and Sweeney lifts his hand to cradle her head that he might run his thumb over her cheekbone. He shakes his head gently and tries to urge her back down to his chest.

"Nothin' ta be sorry fer. An' I don't have a good name ta give ya," he offers with the faint air of apology. "It's just..." Sweeney takes a breath, trying to figure out how to explain it.

"B'fore I was a Leprechaun--b'fore I was a few things, I was Suibhne." He rolls his eyes at the ceiling. "Remember me sayin' the worst things I done was as a king?" His lips tighten for a moment.

"That was when I was him."

He rubs his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "The fuckin' English just couldn't pronounce it, so I was left with this one."

[allgotrabies]

She settles her head on his chest, in the center where she can hear his voice as it rumbles gently against her cheek.

"Usually when someone joins a Pack they pick a new name. I never did, because I didn't feel like a different enough person. And I wasn't running from anything like Palo was. I'd already run away from everything before he found me." Her fingers rub slow circles along his ribs. "Names mean things. Humans don't always get how much they can mean. I don't want to call you anything that only reminds you of things you regret."

Nothing that carries both his worst mistakes and the bastardization of it the English left him with. But on the other hand, knowing more about him now, giving him a new name--even in jest--seems just as cruel.

[madaboutit]

There's genuine comfort in her understanding. Humans don't understand and it's fucking terrible. They're so flippant about everything.

Sweeney nuzzles against her hair.

"Guess I'll just need a new one fer ya ta call me." A wicked smrik is cast down at her. "Just pick something short an' easy ta remember. 'Cause I don't hate the thought of you gettin' so riled ya gotta use it."

[allgotrabies]

"It needs to be Irish." She knows English and Spanish names, so it'll take some research. "And, y'know, I'll probably need to test some out. See how they sound when you're so deep inside of me I can't even think straight. It's gotta have the right sound."

She kisses his collarbone. "Thank you. For telling me."

[madaboutit]

He inhales, pressing his chest more firmly to her lips when she kisses him.

"Thank ya fer listenin'." There's that word. Finally managed it. It carries the weight of 'listening without taking it as poorly as you might have'.

Sweeney runs his tongue along his teeth, returning to his previous cheekiness.

"Should definitely get the chance ta try a few on fer size." He brings his hand up to trace her lip with his thumb.

"Don't mind English though." He presses softly, urging the tip of his thumb past them, nudging at her teeth to part them suggestively.

"Irish can be hard on the tongue."

[allgotrabies]

She gently bites his thumb, rubbing the tip of her tongue against the pad before she sits up to kiss him. "My tongue likes a good challenge." A pause. "I am seriously going to need you to show me how to say them though. I, uhm, I tried to read some Irish stories and I couldn't figure out how to say half the places' names."

[madaboutit]

Sweeney meets her kiss readily, then chuckles at her request. He tilts his head, pressing it more firmly into the grass as he regards her.

"Just the place names that are givin' ya trouble? Sounds like yer three steps ahead," he teases good-naturedly.

[allgotrabies]

"You know me, fast learner," she laughs, a bit self-deprecating but she has worked harder this last year than perhaps ever in her life. She's slower to resent herself for needing more time to read.

In her search for different places to take him, Irish landmarks popped up over and over. It turns out there's even a small surfing community there, though she isn't sure she'd want to be in water that cold.

Which makes her think of their next adventure and the water they'll be in and she grins. "We're gonna have so much fun this year, you don't even know."

[madaboutit]

He can't resist a chuckle and a noncommittal nip in her direction.

"Aye. Tá tú i dtrioblóid," he assures her with a smirk. Because she is. Of the best kind.

[allgotrabies]

She's learned to pick up context in languages she doesn't know, so she has no idea what he said but knows that she really likes the way he said it. His accent alone is enough to draw her in, but she's never heard him speak in his own native tongue before.

"Anytime you want me to drag you into an empty cabin to have me, that's all you have to say," she purrs, and one might think she's kidding but one would be wrong.

He could get her to do a lot of things, talking like that.

[madaboutit]

Sweeney's grin spreads wolfishly. He doesn't hate that she's so easy to please.

"What? Ya don't like this one?" He rolls his eyes playfully, looking around at the grass. "Yer only provin' my case."

He isn't even sure how that would work, if folk are able to get in empty cabins. Sure, supplies had been stored there, but that was with more blessing than pure want.

Glancing down at her, his brow lifts as his tone sobers a little.

"It's gonna need some lamps if ya wanna keep it." Meaning the grass. "Likely gonna need a Warden ta get 'em fer ya." A smirk settles back in.

"I'm the first actual Inmate mine's had, an' I ain't gonna start him off with 'I need some lights so the grass I'm lookin' ta fuck on dunn't die'."

[allgotrabies]

She laughs. "No you gotta ease him into life here. Don't worry, I can find a lamp or two." She intends on keeping this all alive as long as she possibly can. She's never taken care of plants before but grass is resilient and flowers need water and light, and she can provide both.

Annie turns toward him a little more, mischief at the corners of her smile. "Tell me more Irish words."

[madaboutit]

He chuckles richly as he curls his arm around her and traces the curve of her ear.

"Is fearr Gaeilge briste, na Bearla cliste," he purrs, mischievously amused.

"What word would ya like ta know? Other than trioblóid." Sweeney taps her chest once.

"That's you, Trouble." Which one might be able to deduce, given it being pronounced trab-bloid.

[allgotrabies]

She is easy to please, but few things please her more than having her new nickname.

"What did you say?" Running the sounds in her mind, mouthing them subconsciously to herself. "Na Bearla cliste."

[madaboutit]

Sweeney looks down at her with a conspiratorial raise of his eyebrow.

"Broken Irish is better than clever English."

[allgotrabies]

"You should teach me some, then. Because I don't even have clever English going for me." She smiles at him, touches the pad of one finger against the split in his lip as she thinks. "Please?"

[madaboutit]

There's a sharp intake of air when she touches he split, but he parts his lips further to suck on her fingertip.

"Sounds like just the thing then. Ya gotta plenty room ta fill with new words." He tips his head in agreement, but does add an amendment.

"It's gotta a bunch'a different sounds an' the letters don't read the same as English. Phrasin' can be odd." He raises his brow with empathy. "Likely ta be hard." A smile peeks.

"But I know ya can do it. If ya want."

[allgotrabies]

"Reading'll probably be the hardest part. Like, I'm afraid to even try to say some of the places I saw in the book," grimacing. "But I do pretty okay when I can hear things. Give me something to say, I'll give it a try."

[madaboutit]

"We can just do the talkin' bit if it's better," Sweeney assures her, then reflects on a suggestion. He chuckles at himself.

"Perhaps somethin' fer Dorian, but I suspect ya might need it more than that: 'Is minic a bhris béal duine a shrón'."

He smiles deviously. "It means 'It’s often a person’s mouth broke his nose'."

[allgotrabies]

"Oho, I like," she purrs, and straddles him. It's to better listen, of course, why would anyone think otherwise?

"Is minic a...bhris..." Her accent is still definitely American, and she winces by way of asking him to repeat it for her.

[madaboutit]

Sweeney squirms a bit beneath her, dubious of her motivations. He's still a bit off in his recovery after that last bout.

"'Is minic a bhris béal duine a shrón'," he clarifies slowly.

"We can do somethin' shorter ta start, if ya like. Might be easier."

[allgotrabies]

"No no, I can get it." A wicked grin. "I like that this is the first thing I learned to say in Irish. Okay, is minic a bhris...béal duine a shrón." She says it slowly, focusing on getting the sounds in their right places.

[madaboutit]

"Mmm." The wickedness in his eyes speak to his pleasure in hearing it on her lips.

"Would ya indulge me another? It's shorter an' sharper, I promise. Sweeney minimizes his grin, speaking slowly for her to take it in. "Go hifreann leat."

[allgotrabies]

"Go hifreann leat." Still with an accent but she mimics him better with this one. "What'd I just say?"

[madaboutit]

Sweeney bends to kiss her sweetly on the head before whispering against her hair.

"Go ta Hell."

He gives her a quick nuzzle. "Feel that one should get some use too."