[PM to Join] Hammered

[Meraki]

This wasn’t going to work. If he couldn’t wheedle his way into conversation over food; if he couldn’t lower Gideon’s guard through getting him drunk; if he couldn’t encourage a certain patience through the thoughtful return of a material object; if he couldn’t even pick up whatever substances that Gideon took, to dig a way in with practical favors… and he couldn’t find anyone who had anything to say about the man… Meraki started to realize that his quest for the truth in regard to Gideon was a dead end.

At least for today. Meraki was, if anything, a stubborn wick and even though none of the usual routes to get someone talking worked with Gideon… that didn’t mean there wasn’t still a chance there, or wouldn’t be a chance at another time. Why did his glamour bother the human? Why did the human cause his stomach to churn as if he were looking upon a maggot pile of rotted garbage rather than the handsome man he saw? Why did Gideon move like he did, why did he shake, why did he push away every attempt for the wick to help? What was off about him? Meraki tried to excuse it through the theory of drugs, as it seemed the closest to a reasonable explanation, but it didn’t explain everything that he felt toward the man. He’d known junkies, and he’d never felt similar toward them.

Their walk halted, and Meraki stopped to stand beside Gideon. He looked up at the taller man, momentarily tapped his tongue against his unlit cigarette so that it tilted up and down in an oral fidget. There was that noise again... a laugh? Meraki’s skin went cold in response. He felt the urge to step away again, to move away like everyone else seemed to. To get out of arm’s reach of the other man. Stupid! What is there to be scared of? Damn natt is trembling still! Meraki met the coal-dark eyes, rebelliously refusing to look away despite every instinct in his mortal, alive body telling him to retreat as fast as he could.

He listened to Gideon, not sure if he believed that the other wasn’t sick… what did that even mean? Ent sick like that. So, it wasn't poet flowers or anything of that nature? Then what sort of sick was he? Weight ground down into his heels, Meraki held still when the dockworker stepped closer to him. His discomfort from his dampened field increased, like the mona wanted to be set free and overrun the space between them.

His jaw tensed when Gideon refused him yet again. Telling him he wouldn’t get what he wanted. That irked him, the edges of his anger stoked by the statement, enough that his face blushed ruddy and his freckles showed more prominently against the change of complexion. The red coloration only worsened when those coal-dark eyes raked over his body in a distinct survey. Gideon's lecherous suggestion, which accompanied the look, caused Meraki’s gut to twist almost painfully. His fingers clenched into tight fists. So tense, the wick accidentally bit right into his cigarette. The rolled-up paper bent under his teeth, irrevocably damaged.

Meraki spat out the ruined cigarette, so it landed on the ground between them. Was the natt serious? It wasn’t the sort of thing a natt joked about - not like that, anyway - and Gideon didn’t seem the joking type.

He watched as the other man turned and kept walking. But Meraki stayed where he was. Now, he felt sick. The tsat considered for a moment, while he very carefully observed Gideon’s backside, then he shook his head. No, that would be a terrible idea…

…but what else is there left to try? He surveyed the crowd, who hadn’t paid attention to the exchange between the two men. Everyone seemed keen to ignore the creepy human. Meraki looked down at where his ruined cigarette lay with the tobacco spilled out on the ground. The idea might’ve been terrible, it might've been a dangerous gamble, but it was still an idea; he hadn’t exhausted all the options in his toolbox quite yet. He frowned, then he picked up his feet. He sprinted after Gideon.

“Oy, Gideon,” he called. Meraki reached the other, soon enough, to walk alongside him again. He cleared his throat, then added, “I don’t know whatcha y’ thinkin’ but all I want is to help. Y’ don’t gotta… be sick like that alone, if y’ don’t wanna be. C’mon let me help. I can make a mean cup o’ tea! Least I could do, considerin’ what a right prick I was about the crates and all the other mornin’… eh? Eh? Y' live nearby here? Got far to go?”

It was, Meraki decided as he looked over at the reasonably attractive human, the last attempt he would make today.

[Peregrine]

26 of Dentis, 2719 - End of Day
Peregrine's Room

Ha! The statement had made Meraki bite right through that cigarette of his. Spat it out on the ground. So they'd judged right--funny about that sort of thing. Ent a man, really, they thought they could say, but it would only be to amuse themselves. Gideon was, and that was enough. Weren't nobody as needed to think to hard on Peregrine, what Peregrine was or wasn't.

Peregrine had turned, and they'd left. Expected that to be the last of it, really. They had given up, they thought dully, making Gideon into a friendly sort. It was hard, and they were fair tired of it. Just made their head hurt and it never worked quite right anyways. Something about the face, or the way they smiled. So they couldn't help but make some small noise of surprise to hear Meraki call out and catch back up. Didn't slow them down none, but didn't as speed them up neither.

Persistent bastard, weren't he? Fine then. Peregrine didn't know what he wanted, but it weren't no skin off Gideon's nose if he wanted to waste his time following them around. Didn't like the way that glamour made them feel, but they couldn't help it--they were entertained. Rare as someone took so many brush offs from Peregrine and still wanted to hang around. They hadn't thought so, but maybe he wanted to fuck them after all. Couldn't say as they'd mind, though not today. Likely.

Though they didn't slow down none, but they did turn and let that hatcher's grin spread slow and lazy across their face. "Yer funeral," they declared, then laughed again. If Meraki wanted to follow them home, he was more than welcome to it.

They didn't live too far, not by their own estimation--somewhere between Castle Hill and Berret Park, while not quite being a part of either. The walk over Peregrine had maintained a sort of uncomfortable silence, punctuated at best by some small growl or noise. They felt like shit. If the wick was out to jump them, he'd picked a real good time to do it--weren't like they could stop him. Weren't like it mattered to them much one way or the other, though, beyond thinking it would be a right shame to lose a face this nice so fast. Weren't as though they could die. They also didn't much care if Meraki walked all the way back with them.

Peregrine lived in a run-down tenement house, barely a step above some of the rookeries crammed in around the Rose. The building may have once been nice, when it was new. Now it was serviceable, and cheap--which was what mattered to Peregrine right now, seeing as they didn't quite as have their feet under them even after all these months. It didn't matter. They'd stayed in worse, and they would do so again. This was fair clean and reasonably safe; weren't Voedale, that was for damn sure. The more unsavory sorts from Berret Park didn't bother with it, and neither did the more respectable ones from Castle Hill. A forgotten, faded little street with nothing remarkable on it. In a word: perfect.

A few layabouts always seemed to be lounging around front. They gave Peregrine a wide berth, even as they took note that the oddball Gideon had brought someone back with them for once. Peregrine didn't mind. The shakes were subsiding but the headache was worse, and all they really wanted was to go inside. The tremble in their hand made them drop their keys. They swore, loudly and creatively, before finally managing to open the door.

"Palace of dreams, this is," Peregrine intoned, their smooth voice tinged with something very like humor. They made a broad sweeping gesture with a long arm: behold. The mysterious abode of Gideon Carver. It weren't nothing special, really. Had a bed in it, with sheets a little nicer than it seemed like they should have. A comfortable-looking chair, again just slightly nicer than someone like Gideon seemed as he should have. Not much of a kitchen, nor bathroom neither--bathroom was shared with the rest of the floor, and the kitchen was just a stove really. Peregrine weren't much for cooking, so it didn't bother them much, and the stove heated the room well enough in the winter. The most striking thing was the lack of personal affects. No specs, no memorabilia, no little knickknacks collected over a lifetime. The place was sterile, only a little cluttered and then mostly by empty bottles from long nights drinking at home alone. Peregrine never could be bothered to take them out.

"Sit, if you want." Peregrine shrugged, though the effort cost them. They still didn't know what the fuck the wick wanted, but they were home and they didn't care anymore. After pointing at the chair, Peregrine opted instead to collapse on their bed. Long limbs sprawled out awkwardly. They closed their eyes, though they knew they wouldn't sleep. Not just because of the wicklet, neither. Just needed to keep their eyes closed and let the worst of it pass.

[Meraki]

Why did Gideon have to laugh like that? Meraki shuddered at the unsettling grin and the strangely declared phrase about a funeral, which he could only hope wasn’t some sort of actual threat. Just a joke. Gideon just had an incredibly unusual sense of humor, decided Meraki. He could navigate that. So, the lone tsat followed along with only slight hesitation.

He rubbed at his arms as if to ward away the cold, though it wasn’t cold at all. Meraki tried to talk some, on their walk, but not about anything in particular. He chatted about the docks, about the crates, about some things he found in them. He told Gideon about a dead bird he’d pulled out of a crate yesterday while checking it. “Thing must’ve thought to nest and gotten nailed in.” He mentioned that he threw the bird into the bay waters but gotten yelled at by one of the other dockworkers for doing so. Apparently, dead animals didn’t belong in the sea “or something” but what else was he supposed to do? Bury the thing? He shared this openly with Gideon.

While he chattered, he paid attention to the streets and buildings around them. Meraki wanted to be able to find his way back, if needed, and also... knowing where somebody lived always had the potential to come in handy. Especially when you also knew when they would be out, busy working on the docks, instead of at home.

They arrived at a run-down place, but in Meraki’s perspective it looked nice enough. It reminded him slightly of his home in the Stacks, what with the various people on the front steps and the ambient noise of the building. He surveyed who was about, noting their faces and demeanors, in case it’d be useful to remember them later.

When Gideon dropped the keys, and swore rather loudly, Meraki dryly laughed. He hadn’t quite taken the tall man to be so expressive in that way. The wick aimed to pick up the keys, to offer them for the other to take and try again. The door finally managed to get open.

A moment more of hesitation. Meraki glanced around the hall of the tenement, took a short breath, then persisted. He stepped after Gideon into the private space, the door shutting behind him.

Meraki glanced around, gaze following the sweeping gesture. It looked clean and for what the dockworker did have, it also looked nicer than he’d expected. Not that he expected much. He walked further in, glancing around in an absent-minded manner.

“That’s okay,” he said with a shake of his head at the offer to sit, though he set his toolbox down to the side of the door. He looked over at the chair, then watched while Gideon collapsed on the bed. Meraki clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, observing for several seconds, until he turned away to explore the place. He didn’t chatter anymore, trying to keep quiet while he looked about. His field returned, for a bit, as he tried to keep to the opposite side of the room.

There wasn’t much to find. He picked up some empty liquor bottles, glanced over at Gideon, then started to carefully line the bottles up so they weren’t in such a cluttered mess. There sure were a lot of them. So, Gideon was a heavy drinker, then. He glanced over, then searched about until he found one bottle that wasn’t completely emptied. Meraki grabbed a mug and poured the little bit of rum into it. He continued his search and found another bottle with a similar little bit left-over. Eventually, he had about a quarter of the mug full of the random alcoholic mixture.

The wick dampened his field again, then walked over to the bed. He stood at the side and held out the mug for the other man to take. “H-here… Did y’ want tea still or…? Y’ live here alone, eh?”

He hesitated, then attempted a tiny question: "Haven't been in the harbor long, have ya?"

[Peregrine]

26 of Dentis, 2719 - End of Day
Peregrine's Room

If the wicklet didn't want to sit, it was no skin of Peregrine's nose. Or Gideon's, neither. Whatever he had come here for, Peregrine didn't have the energy to find out. Not no more. They kept their eyes closed, though they could hear him moving about the room. Keen sense of hearing in Gideon--it had been a pleasing surprise when Peregrine had first become Gideon. After all, weren't like they could have known how the body worked until they was in it, hey? Just how it looked from the outside.

Anyways, weren't important what the wick was doing. Peregrine's room was just a place to put Gideon when they couldn't move no more. Maybe later, they'd get more things, nicer things. They had a taste for them, after all, but it was so hard to indulge on a dock worker's salary. Eventually, maybe. Weren't no hurry. They never really hurried with much. They could hear the bottles moving around, but they let it fade. Just had to focus on their breathing. In and out, slow and steady. Waiting for the shaking to subside. The ache in their head was like as to stay for a while yet. They stayed like that, prone and breathing deep and slow with their eyes shut, until Meraki came over to stand next to them.

One dark eye opened, though they kept the other closed. Looked at the mug in Meraki's hands--fuck, where had he even found that? What was even in it? They knew they didn't have that much of any one thing left in the whole place. Some sort of ominous swill, that's what that was. They had forgotten that having someone around meant that someone might want to talk to them. They opened the other eye then, though they didn't sit up or take the mug. A turn of their head, and Peregrine could see Meraki had lined the bottles up all neat-like. He definitely wanted something. Peregrine just couldn't figure out what.

They let a long moment pass without speaking, then finally sat up. It weren't as they were going to fall asleep, anyways. Too much dreaming, and if the wicklet let that clocking glamour loose... Peregrine took the mug at last, peering at it. Yeah. Yeah this was some ominous-looking shit, that was fair certain. Peregrine knocked some of it back and grimaced. Disgusting. Held it back out to Meraki, as if in invitation to have some of whatever horrible thing he'd assembled.

"Don't care one way or t'other. Live alone, yeah." Peregrine shrugged, rubbing the side of their head with Gideon's long fingers. How else would they be living? Weren't like they were precisely popular. No matter how nice the face. The next question made them stop and look at Meraki again, considering. They blinked unnaturally slow while they thought about the answer. How long had they been in Ring-Around-the-Rosie? Months? Years? No. Not as Gideon, it hadn't been years, not yet. But how long? Peregrine struggled to remember. There were so many holes, gaps of missing time. What did they add up to? They moved Gideon's tongue around in their mouth, considering.

It had been winter when they got here. They only remembered on account of how they had no proper coat or shoes neither, had forgotten about cold. Forgotten about the way snow melted on a body, making everything worse. What was it now? Fall, they thought. But what month, what year? They all ran together anymore.

"No," they finally said slowly, consideringly, "not long, this time." Months, they decided. It had been a few months, because it was Dentis now. That's right. Yeah. Could remember some things, hey? If they tried. If they really wanted to.

"Why?" The syllable was broad, and accompanied by no shift in face or tone that would indicate the meaning of the question.

[Meraki]

Meraki thought about his ruined cigarette, left behind on the dock planks, tobacco strewn across the wood. He thought about this while he held the mug out and felt a nauseous twist in his gut. Keeping his field dampened, he waited while Gideon looked aside. Silence, and nothing other than the look. The wick started to feel more than merely awkward. He started to feel like he should leave. Maybe there wasn’t anything more to the man than being a drunk that no one wanted to get to know and who didn’t want to know anyone. Maybe he just had a weird sensitivity to fields, for a human, and maybe he laughed like that due to… something. He wasn’t sure what. Maybe he felt inherently disgusted by Gideon despite the objective look of his body and face because…

…because…

…when Gideon sat up, Meraki lost track of his thoughts. He even startled slightly with a restrained jump that went through his lithe body. Quickly letting go of the mug when it was finally accepted, he held up his hand in a sort of surrendering gestured wave. He gave in to his instincts, somewhat, and moved away from the bed until he realized he’d walked right into the wall behind him. Meraki watched while the other man drank some of the liquor mixture.

The mug was held back out. Meraki glanced at it, then shook his head in rejection of taking it back or even considering drinking from it. He almost forgot what he’d even asked, upon hearing the answer, but then he recalled the tea. Meraki nodded slowly. The last question, the important one, gave pause to the human though… a long pause. Longer than one should have, he thought briefly, but then that was common for heavy drinkers.

Eventually, there was an answer. Meraki inclined his head slightly. Not long, this time? So, the man had been in the Harbor before? He wondered how old Gideon was. He didn’t look too old. He didn’t really look like a heavy drinker either… maybe it was a new habit?

“Why?”

“Oh, uh… I’m new to Old Rose myself. Only few days and all, first time,” answered Meraki. He gradually walked along the wall, then headed back over to where the bottles were lined up. “Where’d y’ come from? Far away or…?”

Meraki crouched next to the bottles, muttering for a moment as he counted them. Opposite the room again, his glamour returned. He turned slightly on his heels to look over at Gideon. “You keepin’ all these for a reason? I could take ‘em outta here… uhm… hey, y’know before, what y’ said, I ent like that. So, don’t think otherwise. I just… y’ seemed like yer having a rough time of things and I’m stupid when it comes to it and- guess I feel bad and all, ‘bout that hammer of yer’s and wanted to apologize proper-like. So, did you want to keep all these bottles, or I could get rid of ‘em for ya? Seems like y' like to keep a tidy place, yeh?”

[Peregrine]

26 of Dentis, 2719 - End of Day
Peregrine's Room

Meraki had backed into the wall. Peregrine almost laughed again. Took him long enough--maybe they was right and the boy was touched in the head after all. He'd seemed happy enough to antagonize them down at the docks, but here in Peregrine's room, after following them all the way back? Now, now, they thought he must have noticed. Of course, Peregrine didn't want folks as to notice. Most of 'em didn't, quite. Just sort of skirted around it, putting it down to something else. Weren't like folks as needed to be afraid, hey? Peregrine weren't no danger to nobody. Most of the time.

Peregrine squinted around the headache. Meraki didn't want none of that hellish shit he'd made, huh? Peregrine couldn't as blame him. They didn't in particular, neither, but it was there and they weren't about to pour it out. Waste not, want not, weren't that how the saying went? They shrugged again, as if to say they weren't bothered none, and finished it. Disgusting, absolutely disgusting. But they felt warmer now, looser in all their bones and muscles. Better that way.

They watched with some interest as Meraki answered their question while scooting away along the wall. Awful spooked for someone who made it this far. Wicklet couldn't be very clever, to have come here when he so clearly was afraid of Peregrine.

What did he want to know for, anyways? Peregrine didn't quite buy that it was just friendly curiosity from someone new to the city. Although maybe it were just that, shit. Weren't like Peregrine knew one way or the other. It had been a long time since someone asked them so many questions just to ask. They stood, crossing to what passed for a kitchen. They did have some tea, after all, and Meraki had asked so many times that now they wanted it. Shoulda kept some of the shit in that fucking mug--coulda mixed it together. Hindsight, and all that.

"Ent keepin' nothin'," they said, not answering the question of where they was from. They thought about it, and maybe if they'd had that drink a little earlier they'd have said. Then again, they didn't like the question. Didn't like thinking about it. They had lies, oh yes they did, but thinking of the lie always made them think of the truth. Think of the holes and of the face buried in the ground. Or burned up to ashes, they weren't as particularly sure. Not like they had asked, not after-- not when the Before had-- A muscle spasmed in their arm and they growled at it without thinking, grabbing at the wrist with Gideon's other hand.

"Fuckin' stop," they hissed. Talking to the arm, of course. Weren't like it listened but it settled the mind, hey?

It took a minute, for the rest of what Meraki said to really filter through. Weren't like what-- oh. Ha! Peregrine laughed again. "Your loss." No, they didn't think as the wicklet actually wanted to fuck them. Or vice versa. Though they had to wonder. But they didn't think as he really felt that bad, neither. Or he wouldn't have done it. Leastaways Peregrine didn't think so.

"Do what y'want--ent gonna stop you." Peregrine rattled around in their cabinets, looking for the tea they thought was somewheres--or had that been a different face, a different cabinet? They couldn't remember. Shit. Might have been a different face after all. "Vienda, I think." They added this while they kept looking, kept hoping it was the right face, the right cabinet.

[Meraki]

Why was Gideon getting up from the bed? Meraki tensed slightly when the tall man crossed over to the kitchen-like space. The tsat swiftly stood so he wasn’t crouched anymore. He fixed his vest with a snap of the fabric. A slow nod, then he glanced around to look for some basket or box or the like and got further away from the other man while he did so. To keep the field away from the sensitive human, that was it.

He heard the growl, and looked over to see that the man seemed to be having trouble with his hand again – his arm? The liquor hadn’t helped with that? Meraki frowned slightly when he heard the hiss. It was obvious that Gideon was talking to the shakes of his body. The wick looked away. His frown remained on his face. There was no crate or basket or likewise to be found. So, he picked up a towel that he’d found.

There was that laugh, delayed by a whole minute, and Meraki was confused for a moment until he matched the response to what he must’ve meant by Your loss. What had been called a funeral before, became a loss now. The tsat scoffed and muttered in a sort of challenging attitude, “Doubt that.”

Clearing his throat, he collected some of the empty bottles on the towel. Meraki moved onto his knees for easier grabbing of the bottles that he’d lined up on the floor. He glanced up while he heard the rummaging about the cabinets, then an actual answer.

“Vienda?” He smiled slightly and ignored the following: I think though he noted the oddity of saying something like that. Did Gideon not remember where he lived before the harbor? “I’ve got a brother up there! Where ‘bout in it, if y’ recall that is?”

“My mum was a drinker too,” he added after a pause to wait for an answer. “Toward the end there, she could barely recall my name, let alone what she got up to months ago and all.”

Meraki wrapped up the towel, knotted it and the bottles clinked lightly together inside the bundle. He got back to his feet, brushed off his trousers, then slung the bundled towel of bottles over his shoulder. His free hand went to his hip and he leaned the weight of his balance onto one foot. The wick’s dark green gaze flitted over Gideon’s form then he offered, “Did y’ want me to get y’ some liquor? Ent take more than a few minutes after I take these out. Give me some tallies and I’ll pick up something that’ll calm those shakes of yer’s.”

[Peregrine]

26 of Dentis, 2719 - End of Day
Peregrine's Room

Doubted it, huh? Well that was the wicklet's loss, too. Strange as they were, it weren't like Gideon Carver was hurting for that kind of company. Not if they really wanted it anyway. Half the time it didn't hold too much appeal, though, and now was one of them. They'd only said it as a joke, really, to see what would happen.

Peregrine paused their search at the follow up to their answer. Weren't often folks asked where in Vienda they was from. Just "Vienda" seemed to suit most of the time. They turned to see the wick crouched on their floor and frowned. Didn't like the way these questions were going. Didn't like questions at all, and weren't as sure why they'd entertained them. Where in Vienda? Clocking questions--the fuck did Peregrine know? They'd not been asked in so long, they forgot what the answer was as they'd decided on. Didn't want to give a different answer--what if it came back around somehow? They didn't think as that was likely, most folks not caring to ask in the first place, but if it was?

They leaned against their stove, carefully folding Gideon's arms across their chest. Squinted. So it was addiction to something first, and alcoholism now. Peregrine almost wanted to keep shooting down these theories, just to see what else Meraki would come up with. They knew they was strange, and they were happy to leave folks to decide whatever it was as they wanted to about them. Too much drink was just as good a theory as any, they thought. Certainly a fair sight more understandable than the truth.

Intention tremors. They knew as that was what it was called, the way their hand shook, read it in a book. Read a lot of books, in fact, on the way the body worked. Made it their business as a bookseller, hey? Reading. So they knew lots of things. Learned lots of things over their life. Intention tremors and--shit. Couldn't remember the other one.

"Intention tremors and--what's the other kind?" They hadn't realized they spoke out loud; they were so used to doing it when they was alone, just to hear Gideon's voice. "Ah fuck, there's another kind. Different kind." Peregrine looked up and dug through their memory, seeming to forget Meraki was even there. They had, point in fact. All that mattered at the moment was trying to remember. Different kind of shakes, different kind of cause. Shit. They'd never remember.

That hadn't been the question they was trying to answer, was it? Fuck. "Calm the--? Fuck. No. Go away on their own," Peregrine shook their head, which hurt, and they made a noise of frustration. The drink was starting to get to them, but did nothing for the headache. So they were sliding and achey at once. What was the question? What was the question?

Right--what part of Vienda. Shit. Did they need as to answer? Had they answered already? The room swam a little. They were slipping. Just answer the question, shit. Just needed to answer and then he would leave, probably. Nothing interesting to find here, just Peregrine Peregrine Peregrine. Peregrine reached around in their memory, trying to pull out some kind of answer. They could barely remember the shape of Vienda, now, even though they'd been there just one face before. The effort hurt, made their face twist.

"You should go," they said slowly, through gritted teeth. "Ent trouble yerself about the hammer none." There was a pause; they took a ragged breath. They were going to slip, they could tell. Didn't like it when folks were around when they did. "Thanks," they added, an afterthought. Because Meraki was--whatever the fuck he was doing. Cleaning? Shit, who cared? Weren't nobody in this place but Peregrine. 'Cept Gideon, of course, ha! Sometimes liked as to think of them as a pair, Peregrine and Gideon, Gideon and Peregrine. One and the same, different. PereGideGrine. But they were slipping and fast, feeling a hole there trying to pull them down. They moved to the chair; it was all easier, if they weren't standing none.

[Meraki]

“Intention tremors?” repeated Meraki. He paused, hands busy with the glass bottles while he still gathered them in the towel, and he stared up at the tall man with wide eyes. He blinked a few times, then returned to cleaning up the mess. “I don’t know ‘bout nothing like that…”

Which was mostly true. Meraki considered the words. He knew what a tremor was. He knew what intention meant. The two words together, though? That confused him. As did the stilted answer about… about the liquor not helping them? So, it wasn’t alcohol? But he’d just used the mother card! Dammit, what a godsdamn waste. Not that the line had seemed to land all that well anyway. Gideon seemed far too... out of it to really hear him all that much. Pain? Withdrawal? Something else…?

The noise that sounded from Gideon made him wager that it was pain, a headache maybe? He couldn’t see any obvious injuries, though he glanced at the knee that he’d seen give out earlier when he’d been trying to catch up with the man. Was the human just trying to act proud and pretend that he wasn’t an addict? That didn’t add up. Addicts didn’t usually care about that, not when they needed a hit. Which meant that he couldn’t use that, he didn’t seem to be able to even tempt Gideon with the promise of liquor…

…Gods, why was this man so damn difficult to weigh up? Meraki started to feel a little angry about it. He didn’t like not knowing how to sum up Gideon. He surveyed the bare apartment again, but there were little of clues. It was nearly next to abandoned when compared to most other homes. Maybe Gideon was a fugitive. That could be. A fugitive with a disease. His new theory rolled about in his mind, in consideration of whether it made more sense. Fugitive for what though? A disease of what?

“You should go.”

“Huh?” Meraki looked away from his survey. He frowned at Gideon and watched as the man made his way to the chair. The blond inclined his head to the side, and one of his brows quirked upward, curious. Thanks? Had he heard right? Gratitude? That seemed odder than all the rest of it. Gideon didn’t strike him as that type, either.

“Y’ sure?” He took a few steps away, toward the door, his field flickered in and out as he didn’t entirely dampen it. “I… okay… I’ll…”

Meraki lingered at the door. He gnawed on his bottom lip some, worrying the flesh with his canine tooth.

The wick rolled his eyes, then let the bundle of bottles drop to the floor. He walked back over, to the kitchen space, and looked around until he found a kettle. Though he didn’t say anything, he gathered some water, and after some figuring out how it was all supposed to work, he got the stove going to heat it up. Meraki stayed next to the stove, with the occasional glance over at Gideon. He wanted to ask more questions, but he felt that it might be better to stay quiet for the moment.

Instead, the tsat cleaned out the mug he’d mixed the liquor in. After a bit of searching through the cabinets, he found a small box of old dried out tea leaves. They didn't look the best, but hopefully they wouldn't make the other man even sicker. Meraki prepared the cup, and gradually dampened his field. He quietly hummed a slow melodic tune of a waltz while he waited for the water to heat up.

[Peregrine]

26 of Dentis, 2719 - End of Day
Peregrine's Room

Wick wasn't leaving. This was a problem. Peregrine could feel the Peregrine-ness of them slipping into a hole. Lost time, lost actions. It was like being drunk, they thought, except it happened no matter what they did. They knew blackout drunks; they weren't one of them. It was just so hard to keep the threads of who they were. Peregrine. They were Peregrine, and right now Peregrine was Gideon Carver, and they lived in the Rose.

How long had they lived in the Rose? Years or hours?

Peregrine sat very still in their chair. It was a nice chair; they traced the memory of when they bought it. Hadn't been too long back, not at all. They could hold on to that, the chair and the buying of the chair, as an anchor in their mind. Dig themself in, hey? Leastaways until the wick left and they could fall into any hole they damn fucking well pleased, thanks so very much. Meraki seemed surprised by the request that he leave--the fuck did Peregrine care? They were relieved to hear him say he would, to take a few steps to the door.

Except. Except then he went to what passed for a kitchen instead. Shit. The fuck did he want in their--oh. The clocking chroveshit godsbedamned tea. If they let Meraki play nursemaid for whatever it was he thought fucking ailed Gideon for a while longer, would he leave then? This had been an error. Godsdamn flaw in their fucking mathematics. Hadn't thought about it, making that invitation to follow them back. It had just seemed funny, at the time.

Gideon's foot started tapping, while the water was heating up. Meraki hummed something, from over by their stove. Tap tap tap. There was no rhythm to their tapping, no pattern. It stopped and started and slowed and sped up at random. Had nothing to do with the waltz. Just Gideon's foot, acting as it felt it needed to.

What if he knew. What if he knew, and he'd found a way to pry Peregrine out? Do them in for good? No, that wasn't right. That was just the kind of moony thinking what came over them when they were in a state. Weren't nobody what knew about them, because as far as they knew, they were the only one like them. So it weren't a thing other folks could guess at. Shit, shit, shit.

Peregrine put their face in their hands, stayed still like that for a moment. Tried to ground themself, hey? Be present in the moment, or whatever the fuck. They ran Gideon's long fingers through their dark hair, pushing it back then pulling it forward again. It tousled around them, a chaotic cloud. They needed to sleep. Couldn't sleep with the dreams. Couldn't sleep with someone in their room, neither.

"Still here," Peregrine ground out. They had dragged their hair all in their face. They looked across the room from beneath the curtain of it now, eyes dark and wide. Foot tapped some more, until they slowed it and it stopped.

"What are you hopin' to find here, exactly?" They lifted their face and looked over at Meraki then. The effort of expression had become too much; their face was blank, neutral, smooth. Glass. Stone.