i like snapdragons if ur personalizing 4 both of us. sumo likes weeds
[Maybe Hank shouldn't just let Sumo wander anywhere. But it's easier - and less depressing - than being in charge of when the poor guy goes in and out. He doesn't usually go far, anyway; he tends to stick near the little chunk of temple that houses Hank, sometimes as close as that tree that grew outside one of Hank's doors back when shit was growing all over the place and which never quite went away. Sumo's around.]
[It’s…actually really nice to just bullshit again, after everything that’d happened with Akvos. It gives Cayde a chance to not think for a handful of moments and for that he’s grateful; the hunt for Sumo helps too, because it lets him focus some of his pent up energy into something more productive than trying to get in touch with the surviving merpeople.
It doesn’t take too long to find the wayward Saint Bernard, there really aren’t any other dogs wandering around the temple grounds, and he takes a few minutes to kneel down and ruffle Sumo’s ears. It must have been a universal constant: dogs always made everything at least a little better. When he manages to pull himself away, he shoots another quick message over to Hank-]
No flowers here, Sumo’s feeling some weeds and this weird rock.
[and stands, doing his best to try and herd Sumo back towards the temple and back towards his owner’s room.]
[Hank doesn’t see the message but he sees the little light over there across the bathroom telling him he got a message, so it’s probably fair to guess Cayde’s close. If he did actually go get Sumo Hank might have a few extra minutes- no power on Earth or anywhere in space can make Sumo move faster than a slow amble, but if Cayde figures out that petting him more makes him better at following you Cayde might shave that extra time down a little.
So. That message probably meant Cayde’s on his way but Hank’s not really sure, because the damn watch might have been just fine down there in seahell but taking it in the shower just feels weird.
Whatever. He tries to hurry, and manages to get done about the time Cayde will probably get there. He’s a little pale, his eyes are a little bloodshot, and he trips on his way out of the bathroom, curses at his toes, and then stands there at the bathroom’s doorway, clothes and hair soaking wet, holding a towel. God knows what he’s going to do with the towel without time to take off and dry his clothes, but if he’s got a few more minutes by himself maybe he’ll figure it out.]
[Sumo, it turns out, is decidedly hard to motivate. On one hand, Cayde can respect wanting to be independent and stick it to the man by staying outside. On the other, it's maddening trying to herd a rather large dog back into the temple with just promises of more ear scratches. Finding him, apparently, had been the easy part.
It takes a lot of coaxing (and maybe a little pleading), but eventually their arduous journey comes to an end and Cayde thanks the Traveler that it wasn't a longer trek to Hank's room. Sumo is wonderful, Sumo is a delight, but Sumo isn't fast.
Whatever, they're here now, everything is going to plan. He raps on the door a few times before unceremoniously just letting himself in without any sort of pretence. The messages to Hank's watch were heads up enough, right? Right. But he doesn't see the man right off the bat, even as Sumo pushes past him.
Wait, wait no. There, something's moved by the bathroom. Okay, that he can give Hank a little privacy with.]
No bouquet, sorry. Sumo was insistant that we get going as fast as humanly, dog-edly?, possible.
[Hank takes a step closer, stops, hefts the towel for a second, then starts scrubbing it over his hair just for something to do with it. He watches Sumo go to his food bowl, then looks back up to Cayde.]
Anyway, uh- [It'd be really cool if something smooth came out of his mouth here. Something about flowers, maybe. But- his head hurts, his mouth's dry, his stomach's complaining at him. Whatever Hank's supposed to say, it's not coming to him. He decides to leave smoothness up to fate.] -What's up?
Oh totally. He’s a real speedster when he wants to be.
[There’s a little bit more fondness in his tone than he’d originally intended, but his expression shifts from mild snark to genuine befuddlement when he finally takes in the entire sight of Hank.]
Don’t tell me it’s raining indoors now. The angry plants everywhere seem like more than enough to fill up our weird stuff quota for the next week at the very least.
[If he’d caught the guy in the middle of something, that he could understand. But…damp clothes? With as strange as everything was around the temple he’s honestly willing to field any explanation at this point. And hell, if it helps break some of the tension he’ll go with it. In fact, on that note he invites himself in and takes a seat on the end of the bed as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It helps avoid the question too, because he’s not going to come out swinging with ‘so hey I was actually worried after all the world jump shenanigans’.]
Don't even talk to me about a weird stuff quota, my 'weird shit o-meter' maxed load capacity on my first week here and hasn't stopped screamin at me since.
[He takes a couple steps closer, stops, runs the towel over his hair a couple more times. There's probably not a good explanation so he might as well make the truth sound casual. At least he had enough warning to prop the blanket up against the wall with pillows - when he'd decided to try transplanting his ironic optimism from Detroit to here he'd needed the old habit so bad it hadn't actually occurred to him that carving shit into stone walls looks a lot more unhinged than just slapping some post-it notes around his mirror. By the time that did occur to him he'd just figured, fuck it, it's not like Sumo's gonna make snap judgements about his sanity and who else is going to care?
That's been more of an issue than he thought it'd be. He doesn't know how he feels about that.
Anyway, the shower thing. One piece of weird bullshit at a time.]
But uh, I don't know, do you like the whole 'hasn't showered for days' look? Cause I could go back to that, if 'wet' 's a little too weird for you.
Heck, I’m surprised it’s still functioning at this point. You’d have thought it’d be busted by this point, what with everything goin’ on.
[A joke for a joke, even as Cayde settles and makes himself comfortable as if he hasn’t just barged in to someone else’s living space. Sumo’s made a decided that food is probably the most important thing that’s going on right now, so really there’s just the inevitable- the acknowledgment that alright, perhaps it hasn’t just been the big floof that Cayde’s here to see. Hank’s explanation procs a raise of his browplates, but there’s no judgment as he shrugs and makes a motion for the guy to come and take a leg off, sit beside him.]
Hey, you do what you gotta do. I don’t blame you, I’ve kinda had enough water to last me a lifetime after all this. Let me tell you, getting the salt outta all these nooks and crannies? Not fun, zero out of ten, would not repeat.
[Hank takes a couple steps closer, a corner of his lips twisting up a little at the joke.]
It mighta gone a little better if I’d um, asked if there was anything you needed uh, help with.
[Yeah, he does know it was a joke, but it- well, it makes him think of the last time they saw each other, and what’d happened before that when the whole dream thing started, who he’d seen then. It makes him think of Sara.
Fuck it, if this makes things too heavy he’ll back off. But he wants to say it. He wants to say something.]
I’m sorry about the, uh- the radio silence. I’m not really great with- I mean- Fuck.
[He runs a hand through his hair, giving up on... whatever that was. ‘I’m not really great with actually helping people through this shit and I don’t want that to fuck up our whatever the fuck it is we’re doing’? No. God no. That’s worse than not making any sense at all.]
You can monopolize my dog any time you want, is what I meant. You don’t have to wait for me to be around or, whatever, if Sumo helps. With, you know. All this stuff.
[The unsaid intent is clear enough, but Cayde doesn’t call attention to it, doesn’t want to make things more awkward. There’s this…this thing hanging in the air that he’s not keen to drag to light, and so instead he falls back on the casual joking that he knows. It’s a lot easier.]
I wasn’t rezzed yesterday, I can handle a little uncomfy scrubbing. I gotta admit, never spent that long underwater, but as far as I know this old tin can can’t rust so I should be right as rain.
[He grins slightly and shrugs, it’s almost an apology but he’s not entirely sure what he’s apologizing for. The slight deception, perhaps? Of taking advantage of Sumo’s company to stop in without having to actually admit his admittedly selfish motivations? It’s hard to decide which, and so he abandons the train of thought before it spirals into something cyclical.]
Hey. It’s cool, we’re cool. I, ah-
[He shoots a pleading look over to Sumo; help him out here, buddy!]
Just wanted to make sure the both of you were doin’ okay. First world hop, all that jazz. Can be kinda rough [What an understatement] with the whole, uh, ‘being in one place then being somewhere the heck else’ thing.
[Hank gives a slow nod, watching his hands straighten out the towel and start folding it up. That means, he thinks, that they're not actually talking about it, about the whole... do you call it grief, when you only knew a couple of the people there, only for a couple months? Do you call it grief if it's, in some small, weird, mysterious way, probably a little bit your fault?
Well, he'd offered Sumo's help with whatever it was Cayde might be feeling - or got as close to saying that outright as he was going to - and Cayde changed the subject to Hank being new at all this weird shit, so... They're probably not talking about it. That's- that's fine. That suits Hank just fine.
There's probably less chance he's going to say the wrong thing this way, anyhow.]
Might of been a little less rough if it wasn't under fucking water. It's a good thing I already didn't care about swimming, cause I'm sure as hell not gonna take it up now.
[He watches his hands finish up with the towel, runs his fingers over it for a second, then sets it on the nightstand. Then he looks up at Cayde.]
Is that how your first one went? Your first, uh, 'being zapped somewhere else' thing? What do you call that, anyway? It's not like she uses a transporter beam to move us around, or anything like that.
[He frowns down at the little puddle starting to settle around his feet. Being annoyed at being all wet's better than thinking about how awkward he sounded just now, trying to figure out how to talk over all the shit they're not talking about.]
[Hank's said a lot of things, brought up a lot of good points, and truly there are things that should probably be addressed. Cayde, however, is more distracted by one particular thing-]
Sit down, stay awhile.
[As if he isn't the one intruding on someone else's living space. But it brings things onto more equal ground, he thinks, if he can convince Hank to relax even the slightest bit. Ignoring the hypocrisy of that, he himself is tired and stressed, he reaches up as if to grab the man's wrist and guide him down, but aborts the action just moments before his gloved hand touches skin. Right. The touching thing. Hank had made that pretty clear back in the dream, it'd be a pretty shitty move to ignore that. So instead he turns the gesture into a sweeping motion, patting the mattress beside him.]
Well, there was a lot less water and a lot more. A lot more storms. Real tech-y kinda place, the kind where no one'd bat an eye at me walkin' down the street. The storms though? Bad news. Nearly took a chunk of us mechanically inclined individuals out for good. Food was pretty bad too. I'm talking really bad. Made all the fish seem like a gourmet meal, if I'm bein' honest.
[Hank's on the edge of making up some excuse, but then Cayde moves to pull him in and- stops. Hank watches Cayde's hand move away, feeling his posture relax, feeling himself relax. It's shitty that that's what does it. The way Cayde touches so casually was such a relief, before. But it does. Hank relaxes. He sits, kind of gingerly, a little further away than the spot Cayde's hand had patted.]
Come on, you don't even need to eat.
[Hank leans back, starting to smile a little. It's a little easier to sound natural, when he's giving Cayde shit. That's nice.]
You know when I first heard about that, that big storm you guys had back in android world or whatever, I didn't give a shit about it? [His gaze flicks over Cayde. Oh, how things change.] So, what was it that made it that dangerous for you? A bunch of lightning, or something?
[Hank finally does sit, and it's a small win at the very least. A step forward in breaking some of the not-tension that's built up, and even if he's made it clear to place himself a little further away than suggested Cayde's glad to see him relenting regardless.]
Yeah, well. Sometimes a guy wants to appreciate a good bowl of ramen, you dig? And that stuff? Awful. Just awful.
[It's nice to fall back into banter, takes some of the stress of everything away, but he has to spend a minute or two thinking over how to actually answer Hank's question. I didn't give a shit, it's a strange way to word things and there's a follow-up question there, on the edge of Cayde's tongue, but he bites it back.]
I mean, you weren't there, so you really didn't have a reason to give a shit. [He grins slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he leans forward.] But it was...like I'm no scientist, I'll be the first to admit that, and I've gotten myself into way worse but. I dunno, imagine just...pain, deep in your bones, like someone split 'em open and filled 'em with acid. There's only so much a frame can handle, so I'm pretty sure if any of us had gotten too close it'd been lights out, fried circuits all around.
[Washing everything, clothes and all, before Cayde came over was the best move, he still thinks, but it maybe wasn't a smart one, and he shivers a little as his clothes keep dripping around him. He's not paying so much attention to that now, though. He's distracted, frowning while Cayde describes what went down and looking almost pained himself, sounding a little concerned.]
So, if you don't know exactly what caused it, you think that's something we might encounter again? Or do you think it was a one-off?
[He hasn't thought about it, hearing about it all that time ago, as 'something that might be a problem later'. To be fair, he'd still been trying to deal with being here in the first place, and he hadn't actually realized that androids here are... different, yet, but, still. It's stupid that it hasn't occurred to him, that the kind of problem they had back there could be something he might want to watch out for.]
[It comes as a surprise that Hank sounds as concerned as he does, and it stops Cayde’s train of thought right in its tracks. He has to take a second or two to wrap his mind around it, his expression honestly surprised as he does his best to offer more than a shrug.]
I mean, it probably was the lightning there. Never felt anything like it, and I’ve been around plenty of lightning.
[He exhales slowly, trailing off into a quiet, slightly rueful, laugh as he looks over and meets Hank’s gaze.]
I hate to use the ‘m-word’ but I’m not gonna count anything out at this point, not after the whole misadventure we just had. Magic is one hell of a thing.
[He’d take Struxia over Akvos any day, if given the choice. Killer lightning storms didn’t seem quite as horrible when compared to void-rending and the all-out war. Two different possible genocides, two very different outcomes. It’s not something he wants to linger on, not coming on the heels of the Red War. But what’s done is done, and fixating on it, lingering, is a surefire way to get himself stuck in a cycle of destructive redundancy. That isn’t useful right now, or ever really.
Instead he raises a browplate, finally taking note of the way Hank is shivering. His first instinct is to reach out and place his hand on the man’s shoulder, a small token of comfort and a show of camaraderie, but he restrains himself.]
Being completely straight here, no tomfoolery? You should probably get outta those clothes and into somethin’ dry. Wouldn’t want to catch the plague again.
[Hank gives an embarrassed little grimace. Yep, he's a moron. He knows it.]
Yeah, you're not wrong, but- I did mention that this was the only outfit I have here, right? Hence the whole uh, 'wash it all at once in the shower' thing. And I'm not sure the towel's big enough to cover my whole uh, modesty.
[He wants to leave it at that, he does, because talking about his 'modesty' is a lot better than talking about the rest of it. But as he looks down at the wet spot his clothes are leaving on the mattress, the heavier, serious stuff just sinks down toward his mouth and slips out.]
You're probably right about the magic thing, though. I guess there's no point in trying to figure out if shit like that's gonna happen to you guys again. Or- or any of the rest of it, either. [He slumps back a little bit, any energy in him starting to leak out of his voice.] I mean, what do I understand about any of that shit anyhow.
I think a lot of us are in that boat, don’t know how I feel about asking the ghosts about finding new clothes.
[Another joke, but there really is something a bit off-putting about the idea of unseen servants. Of servants in general, if he’s being honest with himself. But now is neither the time nor the place to ponder over the perceived morality of the possible indentured servitude of weird ghost. It’s far more important to make sure Hank’s as alright as he can be, given the situation.]
What about the blanket? Should be big enough, and I even promise not to sneak a peak while you’re getting settled. Cross my heart.
[But Hank barrels on, and it’s…it’s heavy stuff, things that he’s not used to having to think over. Back home things were much simpler, but the Circle has had the nasty habit of throwing everything for a loop.
He decides to risk just a little, reaching over to place his hand on the mattress next to Hank. It’s still not touching, he’s not going to break any boundaries, but it’s a small show of support nonetheless.]
You’re not the only one that doesn’t understand it. I don’t think any of us do. Don’t gotta be so hard on yourself, it’s just…it’s like a really crappy roller coaster that we’re all on and no one knows when the heck it’s gonna take us all for a drop.
[Hank stares at Cayde's hand, listening. He takes a slow breath, he nods, he breathes out. He sets a hand near Cayde's, not quite touching, and runs his thumb back and forth over the sheet.]
Thanks.
[He murmurs it and then stands, clearing his throat and starting to walk toward the bathroom again, grabbing at the hem of his shirt. Barabas was cool about it, about the stupid shit Hank carved into his fucking walls, it almost hadn't felt weird when he saw it. So maybe it'll be okay, pulling the blanket away from the wall and using it for him instead. Besides, he kind of underestimated how annoying being cold in wet clothes is.]
Guys who've seen me naked can take all the peeks they want, though. It's not like you haven't seen it all already.
[Then he pulls his shirt over his head and once it's off he finds himself - it's stupid, if he was going to say this shit he should have said it before he stood up, before he tried to break up that heavy mood with something lighter, but now his back is turned and they can't look each other in the face and it's coming out anyway, still, like a leaky goddamn faucet, like the slightest hint of sympathy means Cayde wants to hear all a-fucking-bout it.]
But it's- sometimes shit just happens and there's nothing anyone could of done to- [His shirt's down over his arms now. He stops, takes a slow breath.] Just... just freak accidents, you know. I know that. But-
[He pulls his shirt off his arms and holds it, staring at the wall and trying to figure out what he's even getting at.]
But this is so- It's so- It's not all supposed to be like that. There's supposed to be- something. Just, something you can do, something you can change. Just sometimes. But this, it's all- everything about this fucking place-
[He clears his throat, balling his shirt up tight in his hands, and turns to toss it toward the bathtub, where it'll dry or mold or... something. Whatever.]
Sorry, uh, I know you didn't- you didn't really sign up for all that shit. I um, I'm not great company right now, I guess.
Edited (my turn for code shenanigans ) 2019-02-19 16:49 (UTC)
[The quip earns a small snort, delicately contained amusement at the fact that it's just so Hank. Despite everything that's happened, despite the awful aftermath of Akvos and the dreamscapes and every other crazy thing that'd had gone down...there's still room for the quiet back and forth that he's come to appreciate.
Hank's gone in a moment, though, and true to his word Cayde does avert his gaze. It's true, he's seen, and very much appreciated, it all before but there's something different between heated kisses, the press of skin against metal, than there is in this sort of vulnerability. He wants to give Hank this, let him keep some of himself private.]
Yeah, it's not supposed to be like this.
[Perhaps that's not what Hank wants, or needs, to hear. Perhaps it's unhelpful.]
But it is. It is, and it's bad, and it's-
[He stops himself, instead busying his attention to some minuscule, unseen fleck of dirt on one of his gloves. It's what? It's over? Akvos is, yes, but that doesn't mean that they're not still technically prisoners to the Circle.]
it's the bad hand we got dealt. Nothin' to say we can't hand-muck a card or two though.
[Everything's a metaphor, always. But Cayde finally does look up, glancing over to rest his gaze on Hank's bared back.]
Stop that though. You think I would be here if I really gave two shakes? Lemme decide what's 'good company'.
[He huffs, looking down at his hands on his waistband and nodding a little.]
Yeah, I guess you can have weird taste if you want.
[He pauses and then - nope, it's still coming out, he can't leave it at that even though he wishes he would, even if a part of him's yelling at the rest to shut the fuck up and give Cayde a reason to want to stick around, to stop digging up all this shit and tossing it all over the place. But he can't leave it at that, at Cayde telling him what 'should be' isn't like he thinks Hank's some kind of idealist or, or whatever.]
But- I know, I know about getting dealt a shitty fucking hand, it's not- [He swallows.] I can't- I haven't been able to do a goddamn thing since I got here and I need- I can't-
Fuck, if it's all gonna be like this, if it's gonna keep ending in random tragedy and freak fucking accidents-
[His voice struggles under all the baggage in that last little phrase, wavers and cracks under the weight of it, and he stops. He breathes. He unbuttons his goddamn pants.]
This is the least sexy strip tease I've ever done in my life.
[Hank's trying to sound amused there and he shivers on the tail end of it, a little reminder from his body that, yeah, taking off the wet clothes probably is a pretty good idea. But it feels weird, he'd be the only naked person in the room and he's not sure if standing here shivering like a moron because of his own bad decisions isn't preferable to that.]
How about you? Seen worse? It'd take a real bad one to top this.
[There are so many things he could respond with, so many light jabs, but he doesn’t. Cayde stays silent for once in his life, lets Hank continue as he watches on. Everything that he’s saying is true, and it hits home in a way that Cayde isn’t quite expecting it to. Maybe it’s the words. Maybe it’s the way he can hear Hank’s voice crack before he abruptly changes subjects. There’s pain there, much more than he’d have expected and that in itself is cause for concern. More concern than he’s realized, he thinks.]
It isn’t all like this. Hasn’t been. This time we got fucked over, didn’t get a fighting chance and there are a lot of people mad as hell about that. As they should be.
[He exhales slowly, closing his eyes and taking a few moments to try and put his thoughts into something comprehensible to address the second part. It’s such a loaded question that it almost isn’t fair to expect him to answer, but Hank has had no way of knowing that. Right now they’re talking, they’re talking about heavy stuff and Cayde realizes belatedly that he’s been quiet for just a little too long.]
Seen similar a couple of times before. Doesn’t make this one any less bad; feels kinda wrong to try to rank them.
[More than a couple, only a few on the same scale of mass tragedy. It feels odd now, to think about. To think that out there, somewhere in the weird multiplicity of universes there are people that wouldn’t recognize the name Twilight Gap. To know that Six Fronts never happened. That Towerfall- no, that one’s too fresh he’s done thinking about the intricacies of the multiverse.
But it brings another question to mind. He’s always taken things like this as just a fact of life, no matter how horrible they are. Has Hank? Cayde’s never stopped to think too hard about it, but he knows so little about where the man is from, what his home is like. It’s a sobering thought, that he doesn’t really know much about Hank at all.]
Honestly? It’d be real nice if stuff like that took a holiday, though.
[The bed creaks as he shifts and stands, reaching over to snatch the blanket away from the wall. The carvings get a glance, but Cayde doesn’t say a thing; each to their own, everyone had their own coping mechanisms. Instead he hefts the blanket up and dares to close the distance between the both of them, working very carefully to not startle Hank in the process. He’s equally careful when he drapes the thing over Hank’s shoulders, taking great pains to make sure he doesn’t accidentally make contact.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[And check up on everything.]
This is your one heads up.
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[Not like that will even slow Cayde down, but it's worth a try.]
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[Okay, first step: find Sumo. That'll delay him a little bit, at least.]
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[Maybe Hank shouldn't just let Sumo wander anywhere. But it's easier - and less depressing - than being in charge of when the poor guy goes in and out. He doesn't usually go far, anyway; he tends to stick near the little chunk of temple that houses Hank, sometimes as close as that tree that grew outside one of Hank's doors back when shit was growing all over the place and which never quite went away. Sumo's around.]
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[It’s…actually really nice to just bullshit again, after everything that’d happened with Akvos. It gives Cayde a chance to not think for a handful of moments and for that he’s grateful; the hunt for Sumo helps too, because it lets him focus some of his pent up energy into something more productive than trying to get in touch with the surviving merpeople.
It doesn’t take too long to find the wayward Saint Bernard, there really aren’t any other dogs wandering around the temple grounds, and he takes a few minutes to kneel down and ruffle Sumo’s ears. It must have been a universal constant: dogs always made everything at least a little better. When he manages to pull himself away, he shoots another quick message over to Hank-]
No flowers here, Sumo’s feeling some weeds and this weird rock.
[and stands, doing his best to try and herd Sumo back towards the temple and back towards his owner’s room.]
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So. That message probably meant Cayde’s on his way but Hank’s not really sure, because the damn watch might have been just fine down there in seahell but taking it in the shower just feels weird.
Whatever. He tries to hurry, and manages to get done about the time Cayde will probably get there. He’s a little pale, his eyes are a little bloodshot, and he trips on his way out of the bathroom, curses at his toes, and then stands there at the bathroom’s doorway, clothes and hair soaking wet, holding a towel. God knows what he’s going to do with the towel without time to take off and dry his clothes, but if he’s got a few more minutes by himself maybe he’ll figure it out.]
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It takes a lot of coaxing (and maybe a little pleading), but eventually their arduous journey comes to an end and Cayde thanks the Traveler that it wasn't a longer trek to Hank's room. Sumo is wonderful, Sumo is a delight, but Sumo isn't fast.
Whatever, they're here now, everything is going to plan. He raps on the door a few times before unceremoniously just letting himself in without any sort of pretence. The messages to Hank's watch were heads up enough, right? Right. But he doesn't see the man right off the bat, even as Sumo pushes past him.
Wait, wait no. There, something's moved by the bathroom. Okay, that he can give Hank a little privacy with.]
No bouquet, sorry. Sumo was insistant that we get going as fast as humanly, dog-edly?, possible.
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[Hank takes a step closer, stops, hefts the towel for a second, then starts scrubbing it over his hair just for something to do with it. He watches Sumo go to his food bowl, then looks back up to Cayde.]
Anyway, uh- [It'd be really cool if something smooth came out of his mouth here. Something about flowers, maybe. But- his head hurts, his mouth's dry, his stomach's complaining at him. Whatever Hank's supposed to say, it's not coming to him. He decides to leave smoothness up to fate.] -What's up?
[Well. That wasn't as bad as it could of been.]
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[There’s a little bit more fondness in his tone than he’d originally intended, but his expression shifts from mild snark to genuine befuddlement when he finally takes in the entire sight of Hank.]
Don’t tell me it’s raining indoors now. The angry plants everywhere seem like more than enough to fill up our weird stuff quota for the next week at the very least.
[If he’d caught the guy in the middle of something, that he could understand. But…damp clothes? With as strange as everything was around the temple he’s honestly willing to field any explanation at this point. And hell, if it helps break some of the tension he’ll go with it. In fact, on that note he invites himself in and takes a seat on the end of the bed as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It helps avoid the question too, because he’s not going to come out swinging with ‘so hey I was actually worried after all the world jump shenanigans’.]
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[He takes a couple steps closer, stops, runs the towel over his hair a couple more times. There's probably not a good explanation so he might as well make the truth sound casual. At least he had enough warning to prop the blanket up against the wall with pillows - when he'd decided to try transplanting his ironic optimism from Detroit to here he'd needed the old habit so bad it hadn't actually occurred to him that carving shit into stone walls looks a lot more unhinged than just slapping some post-it notes around his mirror. By the time that did occur to him he'd just figured, fuck it, it's not like Sumo's gonna make snap judgements about his sanity and who else is going to care?
That's been more of an issue than he thought it'd be. He doesn't know how he feels about that.
Anyway, the shower thing. One piece of weird bullshit at a time.]
But uh, I don't know, do you like the whole 'hasn't showered for days' look? Cause I could go back to that, if 'wet' 's a little too weird for you.
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[A joke for a joke, even as Cayde settles and makes himself comfortable as if he hasn’t just barged in to someone else’s living space. Sumo’s made a decided that food is probably the most important thing that’s going on right now, so really there’s just the inevitable- the acknowledgment that alright, perhaps it hasn’t just been the big floof that Cayde’s here to see. Hank’s explanation procs a raise of his browplates, but there’s no judgment as he shrugs and makes a motion for the guy to come and take a leg off, sit beside him.]
Hey, you do what you gotta do. I don’t blame you, I’ve kinda had enough water to last me a lifetime after all this. Let me tell you, getting the salt outta all these nooks and crannies? Not fun, zero out of ten, would not repeat.
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It mighta gone a little better if I’d um, asked if there was anything you needed uh, help with.
[Yeah, he does know it was a joke, but it- well, it makes him think of the last time they saw each other, and what’d happened before that when the whole dream thing started, who he’d seen then. It makes him think of Sara.
Fuck it, if this makes things too heavy he’ll back off. But he wants to say it. He wants to say something.]
I’m sorry about the, uh- the radio silence. I’m not really great with- I mean- Fuck.
[He runs a hand through his hair, giving up on... whatever that was. ‘I’m not really great with actually helping people through this shit and I don’t want that to fuck up our whatever the fuck it is we’re doing’? No. God no. That’s worse than not making any sense at all.]
You can monopolize my dog any time you want, is what I meant. You don’t have to wait for me to be around or, whatever, if Sumo helps. With, you know. All this stuff.
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I wasn’t rezzed yesterday, I can handle a little uncomfy scrubbing. I gotta admit, never spent that long underwater, but as far as I know this old tin can can’t rust so I should be right as rain.
[He grins slightly and shrugs, it’s almost an apology but he’s not entirely sure what he’s apologizing for. The slight deception, perhaps? Of taking advantage of Sumo’s company to stop in without having to actually admit his admittedly selfish motivations? It’s hard to decide which, and so he abandons the train of thought before it spirals into something cyclical.]
Hey. It’s cool, we’re cool. I, ah-
[He shoots a pleading look over to Sumo; help him out here, buddy!]
Just wanted to make sure the both of you were doin’ okay. First world hop, all that jazz. Can be kinda rough [What an understatement] with the whole, uh, ‘being in one place then being somewhere the heck else’ thing.
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Well, he'd offered Sumo's help with whatever it was Cayde might be feeling - or got as close to saying that outright as he was going to - and Cayde changed the subject to Hank being new at all this weird shit, so... They're probably not talking about it. That's- that's fine. That suits Hank just fine.
There's probably less chance he's going to say the wrong thing this way, anyhow.]
Might of been a little less rough if it wasn't under fucking water. It's a good thing I already didn't care about swimming, cause I'm sure as hell not gonna take it up now.
[He watches his hands finish up with the towel, runs his fingers over it for a second, then sets it on the nightstand. Then he looks up at Cayde.]
Is that how your first one went? Your first, uh, 'being zapped somewhere else' thing? What do you call that, anyway? It's not like she uses a transporter beam to move us around, or anything like that.
[He frowns down at the little puddle starting to settle around his feet. Being annoyed at being all wet's better than thinking about how awkward he sounded just now, trying to figure out how to talk over all the shit they're not talking about.]
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Sit down, stay awhile.
[As if he isn't the one intruding on someone else's living space. But it brings things onto more equal ground, he thinks, if he can convince Hank to relax even the slightest bit. Ignoring the hypocrisy of that, he himself is tired and stressed, he reaches up as if to grab the man's wrist and guide him down, but aborts the action just moments before his gloved hand touches skin. Right. The touching thing. Hank had made that pretty clear back in the dream, it'd be a pretty shitty move to ignore that. So instead he turns the gesture into a sweeping motion, patting the mattress beside him.]
Well, there was a lot less water and a lot more. A lot more storms. Real tech-y kinda place, the kind where no one'd bat an eye at me walkin' down the street. The storms though? Bad news. Nearly took a chunk of us mechanically inclined individuals out for good. Food was pretty bad too. I'm talking really bad. Made all the fish seem like a gourmet meal, if I'm bein' honest.
[Rambling, he can do that.]
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Come on, you don't even need to eat.
[Hank leans back, starting to smile a little. It's a little easier to sound natural, when he's giving Cayde shit. That's nice.]
You know when I first heard about that, that big storm you guys had back in android world or whatever, I didn't give a shit about it? [His gaze flicks over Cayde. Oh, how things change.] So, what was it that made it that dangerous for you? A bunch of lightning, or something?
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Yeah, well. Sometimes a guy wants to appreciate a good bowl of ramen, you dig? And that stuff? Awful. Just awful.
[It's nice to fall back into banter, takes some of the stress of everything away, but he has to spend a minute or two thinking over how to actually answer Hank's question. I didn't give a shit, it's a strange way to word things and there's a follow-up question there, on the edge of Cayde's tongue, but he bites it back.]
I mean, you weren't there, so you really didn't have a reason to give a shit. [He grins slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he leans forward.] But it was...like I'm no scientist, I'll be the first to admit that, and I've gotten myself into way worse but. I dunno, imagine just...pain, deep in your bones, like someone split 'em open and filled 'em with acid. There's only so much a frame can handle, so I'm pretty sure if any of us had gotten too close it'd been lights out, fried circuits all around.
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So, if you don't know exactly what caused it, you think that's something we might encounter again? Or do you think it was a one-off?
[He hasn't thought about it, hearing about it all that time ago, as 'something that might be a problem later'. To be fair, he'd still been trying to deal with being here in the first place, and he hadn't actually realized that androids here are... different, yet, but, still. It's stupid that it hasn't occurred to him, that the kind of problem they had back there could be something he might want to watch out for.]
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I mean, it probably was the lightning there. Never felt anything like it, and I’ve been around plenty of lightning.
[He exhales slowly, trailing off into a quiet, slightly rueful, laugh as he looks over and meets Hank’s gaze.]
I hate to use the ‘m-word’ but I’m not gonna count anything out at this point, not after the whole misadventure we just had. Magic is one hell of a thing.
[He’d take Struxia over Akvos any day, if given the choice. Killer lightning storms didn’t seem quite as horrible when compared to void-rending and the all-out war. Two different possible genocides, two very different outcomes. It’s not something he wants to linger on, not coming on the heels of the Red War. But what’s done is done, and fixating on it, lingering, is a surefire way to get himself stuck in a cycle of destructive redundancy. That isn’t useful right now, or ever really.
Instead he raises a browplate, finally taking note of the way Hank is shivering. His first instinct is to reach out and place his hand on the man’s shoulder, a small token of comfort and a show of camaraderie, but he restrains himself.]
Being completely straight here, no tomfoolery? You should probably get outta those clothes and into somethin’ dry. Wouldn’t want to catch the plague again.
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Yeah, you're not wrong, but- I did mention that this was the only outfit I have here, right? Hence the whole uh, 'wash it all at once in the shower' thing. And I'm not sure the towel's big enough to cover my whole uh, modesty.
[He wants to leave it at that, he does, because talking about his 'modesty' is a lot better than talking about the rest of it. But as he looks down at the wet spot his clothes are leaving on the mattress, the heavier, serious stuff just sinks down toward his mouth and slips out.]
You're probably right about the magic thing, though. I guess there's no point in trying to figure out if shit like that's gonna happen to you guys again. Or- or any of the rest of it, either. [He slumps back a little bit, any energy in him starting to leak out of his voice.] I mean, what do I understand about any of that shit anyhow.
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[Another joke, but there really is something a bit off-putting about the idea of unseen servants. Of servants in general, if he’s being honest with himself. But now is neither the time nor the place to ponder over the perceived morality of the possible indentured servitude of weird ghost. It’s far more important to make sure Hank’s as alright as he can be, given the situation.]
What about the blanket? Should be big enough, and I even promise not to sneak a peak while you’re getting settled. Cross my heart.
[But Hank barrels on, and it’s…it’s heavy stuff, things that he’s not used to having to think over. Back home things were much simpler, but the Circle has had the nasty habit of throwing everything for a loop.
He decides to risk just a little, reaching over to place his hand on the mattress next to Hank. It’s still not touching, he’s not going to break any boundaries, but it’s a small show of support nonetheless.]
You’re not the only one that doesn’t understand it. I don’t think any of us do. Don’t gotta be so hard on yourself, it’s just…it’s like a really crappy roller coaster that we’re all on and no one knows when the heck it’s gonna take us all for a drop.
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Thanks.
[He murmurs it and then stands, clearing his throat and starting to walk toward the bathroom again, grabbing at the hem of his shirt. Barabas was cool about it, about the stupid shit Hank carved into his fucking walls, it almost hadn't felt weird when he saw it. So maybe it'll be okay, pulling the blanket away from the wall and using it for him instead. Besides, he kind of underestimated how annoying being cold in wet clothes is.]
Guys who've seen me naked can take all the peeks they want, though. It's not like you haven't seen it all already.
[Then he pulls his shirt over his head and once it's off he finds himself - it's stupid, if he was going to say this shit he should have said it before he stood up, before he tried to break up that heavy mood with something lighter, but now his back is turned and they can't look each other in the face and it's coming out anyway, still, like a leaky goddamn faucet, like the slightest hint of sympathy means Cayde wants to hear all a-fucking-bout it.]
But it's- sometimes shit just happens and there's nothing anyone could of done to- [His shirt's down over his arms now. He stops, takes a slow breath.] Just... just freak accidents, you know. I know that. But-
[He pulls his shirt off his arms and holds it, staring at the wall and trying to figure out what he's even getting at.]
But this is so- It's so- It's not all supposed to be like that. There's supposed to be- something. Just, something you can do, something you can change. Just sometimes. But this, it's all- everything about this fucking place-
[He clears his throat, balling his shirt up tight in his hands, and turns to toss it toward the bathtub, where it'll dry or mold or... something. Whatever.]
Sorry, uh, I know you didn't- you didn't really sign up for all that shit. I um, I'm not great company right now, I guess.
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Hank's gone in a moment, though, and true to his word Cayde does avert his gaze. It's true, he's seen, and very much appreciated, it all before but there's something different between heated kisses, the press of skin against metal, than there is in this sort of vulnerability. He wants to give Hank this, let him keep some of himself private.]
Yeah, it's not supposed to be like this.
[Perhaps that's not what Hank wants, or needs, to hear. Perhaps it's unhelpful.]
But it is. It is, and it's bad, and it's-
[He stops himself, instead busying his attention to some minuscule, unseen fleck of dirt on one of his gloves. It's what? It's over? Akvos is, yes, but that doesn't mean that they're not still technically prisoners to the Circle.]
it's the bad hand we got dealt. Nothin' to say we can't hand-muck a card or two though.
[Everything's a metaphor, always. But Cayde finally does look up, glancing over to rest his gaze on Hank's bared back.]
Stop that though. You think I would be here if I really gave two shakes? Lemme decide what's 'good company'.
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Yeah, I guess you can have weird taste if you want.
[He pauses and then - nope, it's still coming out, he can't leave it at that even though he wishes he would, even if a part of him's yelling at the rest to shut the fuck up and give Cayde a reason to want to stick around, to stop digging up all this shit and tossing it all over the place. But he can't leave it at that, at Cayde telling him what 'should be' isn't like he thinks Hank's some kind of idealist or, or whatever.]
But- I know, I know about getting dealt a shitty fucking hand, it's not- [He swallows.] I can't- I haven't been able to do a goddamn thing since I got here and I need- I can't-
Fuck, if it's all gonna be like this, if it's gonna keep ending in random tragedy and freak fucking accidents-
[His voice struggles under all the baggage in that last little phrase, wavers and cracks under the weight of it, and he stops. He breathes. He unbuttons his goddamn pants.]
This is the least sexy strip tease I've ever done in my life.
[Hank's trying to sound amused there and he shivers on the tail end of it, a little reminder from his body that, yeah, taking off the wet clothes probably is a pretty good idea. But it feels weird, he'd be the only naked person in the room and he's not sure if standing here shivering like a moron because of his own bad decisions isn't preferable to that.]
How about you? Seen worse? It'd take a real bad one to top this.
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It isn’t all like this. Hasn’t been. This time we got fucked over, didn’t get a fighting chance and there are a lot of people mad as hell about that. As they should be.
[He exhales slowly, closing his eyes and taking a few moments to try and put his thoughts into something comprehensible to address the second part. It’s such a loaded question that it almost isn’t fair to expect him to answer, but Hank has had no way of knowing that. Right now they’re talking, they’re talking about heavy stuff and Cayde realizes belatedly that he’s been quiet for just a little too long.]
Seen similar a couple of times before. Doesn’t make this one any less bad; feels kinda wrong to try to rank them.
[More than a couple, only a few on the same scale of mass tragedy. It feels odd now, to think about. To think that out there, somewhere in the weird multiplicity of universes there are people that wouldn’t recognize the name Twilight Gap. To know that Six Fronts never happened. That Towerfall- no, that one’s too fresh he’s done thinking about the intricacies of the multiverse.
But it brings another question to mind. He’s always taken things like this as just a fact of life, no matter how horrible they are. Has Hank? Cayde’s never stopped to think too hard about it, but he knows so little about where the man is from, what his home is like. It’s a sobering thought, that he doesn’t really know much about Hank at all.]
Honestly? It’d be real nice if stuff like that took a holiday, though.
[The bed creaks as he shifts and stands, reaching over to snatch the blanket away from the wall. The carvings get a glance, but Cayde doesn’t say a thing; each to their own, everyone had their own coping mechanisms. Instead he hefts the blanket up and dares to close the distance between the both of them, working very carefully to not startle Hank in the process. He’s equally careful when he drapes the thing over Hank’s shoulders, taking great pains to make sure he doesn’t accidentally make contact.]
Figured I’d save you the trouble.
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