It's a unicorn vomiting a rainbow, because his submissive is Deadpool and that's just part of the territory (Scott all but dared him to do it, but he'll never admit it).
He pulls the door open at the knock and gives K a slight nod. "Gun's in the kitchen. Do you want coffee?"
He pours a second cup of coffee and holds it out, handle free for K to take more easily. "Cream's in the fridge, sugar's on the counter if you want either." He's drinking his black, but leaves it sitting on the counter since he's going to need to go get the gun.
That thanks gets a faint smile out of him. "I'll either have done something good and feel good about that or made a terrible mistake and have an excuse to wallow in guilt for a while. I think it'll be okay, though."
K used to take his black, too, because any additives he could afford or were available to him otherwise only made the taste worse. Here, though, he's quick to add a few spoonfuls of sugar, and he smiles at the response.
"I'll do my best not to make you regret it. I don't actually want to be any trouble."
He holds his hand up to show him - the bandage is gone, the edges are closed, just a healing pink scar.
"All I have to do is keep it that way." Harder to accomplish than one might think for someone who genuinely doesn't like to get into fights. "How'd the games go for you?"
K is watching for that, for discomfort or impatience, but he's committed to at least finishing the cup of coffee. He sips at it, relaxes a bit.
"I did, but I got to keep my clothes on, and they left me alone the rest of the time." So he's pretty good with it. "I think I'm starting to catch my breath a bit."
Scott leans back against the counter and picks his cup back up to drink. His coffee in particular has cooled off a lot, but it's fine. "Being left alone for a while is good. Catching your breath is better. It's easier to navigate this place when you're not reeling."
Scott doesn't hesitate so much as he takes a moment to decide what words he wants to use, here. Because... this place isn't ideal, but also.
"My experience thus far is that it's a place where... on a small and personal scale a certain amount of order can be imposed on the broader chaos." Which is maybe odd, but. It's kind of what he has.
"Laws weren't exactly what I was talking about," says the man with a profound distrust of authority and government, but. "Not having to deal with total chaos here is... helpful."
"Old habit," he admits into his coffee. Cop. "It might be easier if the city itself weren't so committed to arbitrary order over more natural patterns."
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I'll come now, if that's okay.
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He also knocks, and makes sure to wipe his feet before he does anything like stepping into a personal space.
"Hello?" he calls. He doesn't mind the unicorn mural. He probably likes it.
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He pulls the door open at the knock and gives K a slight nod. "Gun's in the kitchen. Do you want coffee?"
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K already liked coffee in Los Angeles; here, it tastes significantly better than anything he had back home, so he's quick to nod.
"Please." He steps politely inside, offers as politely, "Thank you. I appreciate this, especially for a stranger."
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That thanks gets a faint smile out of him. "I'll either have done something good and feel good about that or made a terrible mistake and have an excuse to wallow in guilt for a while. I think it'll be okay, though."
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"I'll do my best not to make you regret it. I don't actually want to be any trouble."
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"All I have to do is keep it that way." Harder to accomplish than one might think for someone who genuinely doesn't like to get into fights. "How'd the games go for you?"
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"I didn't actually get recruited. I spent most of my time camping, and looking around the location. It wasn't terrible. You?"
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"I did, but I got to keep my clothes on, and they left me alone the rest of the time." So he's pretty good with it. "I think I'm starting to catch my breath a bit."
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"And I'm worried for what comes next after the calm."
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"My experience thus far is that it's a place where... on a small and personal scale a certain amount of order can be imposed on the broader chaos." Which is maybe odd, but. It's kind of what he has.
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"But we still had protocols to go by for day to day life. A lot of people felt the laws were pointless, but they were still the law for a reason."
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"Old habit," he admits into his coffee. Cop. "It might be easier if the city itself weren't so committed to arbitrary order over more natural patterns."