"Don't make it weird," Rory quipped, shifting so she could more easily work. But Rory faltered for a second at what Broen said. Was it surprising? Yes and no.
"You said I could talk about whatever. So if I wanna talk about you giving me a handjob, I fuckin' will." He huffed and turned so that he was lying on his stomach on the couch. If she was giving him a massage, he might as well get the full experience.
Rory waited until Broen was comfortable across the couch and her lap — which was awkward, but Rory wasn't about to sit on the ground and she'd fight him for this fucking couch.
"Eh. I'm less of a freak than a lot of the assholes on this island. I saw a personals ad for someone to come cannibalize the person who put out the ad. Like what the fuck," Broen said with a laugh.
Rory hummed. "Whoever would, though?" she asked, sounding entirely perplexed by the idea.
Broen grumbled and adjusted so that his face was turned slightly towards Rory. He looked up at her and then looked away, agitated.
Rory huffed in a half-laugh. Then, she debated internally, not about what she could ask but about what she should ask. It was one of those odd moments — she recognized it. The kind of subtle break or make situations that came about in everyday life between two people have what was (mostly) a casual conversation.
Broen sat up and furrows his eyebrows at Rory. Not quite a glare, but almost. "It's not a fuckin' game, bitch. I liked the massage. I made the offer." He was not about to let her do this, jerk him around when he was making something like an attempt.
Rory almost sighed, but she held it. Interacting was difficult, interacting with Broen felt nearly impossible half the time.
Broen teleported back over, rubbing his forehead and cursing under his breath. "I do owe you though. S'a fact of life. And you seem oh so curious to get to know me, so I figure it's an even trade."