[It's possible this is a trick of the alcohol, but the point is he's fine, and the view's beautiful, and (now) the company's not bad either. There's a whole collection of new arrivals out there but he's not tapping his fingers, impatient to sort through their number. They'll be around later.
Or they won't.
That's just how this place works. He's getting used to it now, a state someone might call settled, if they didn't know how he works.]
Jem's not going back to her world, she says. And she says you look like her dad so can you ruffle her hair when you meet her please? Ask how she's keeping up at school.
[ ahaha wow?? wow... the slightly startled laugh turns into John choking on his own breath and coughing it out into his fist and when that trails off and the phone's brought back to his face it's to the tune of residual laughter because yes, brilliant, thanks Freddie for that. that's great. ]
—Oh, definitely. [ a throat clear to get rid of the rest of the roughness ccchrist and no, no, he's not quite recovered. all else that follows is just a simple: ] God.
[You can tell when he's smiling, it's like his voice turns up at the corners.]
You don't look like mine. [And he's only just old enough to be parent to either of them, really. It's nothing to dwell on.] Do it, though, it'll be brilliant. Especially if it's first thing and you're just in your pants.
still, there's a snort, and a small throaty noise that marks John pulling himself up to his feet to usher a grumpy cat inside with his foot and shut the door behind her. ] Hi, nice to meet you. Hope you enjoy that permanent mental scarring. Did you want tea? I'm just brewing up.
[ fhumph, he's back down and seated. another sip from a reclaimed glass, the storyteller's voice discarded in favour of a question: ] You two doing alright over there?
Edited (i didn't finish my sentence SIGH) 2016-05-15 20:02 (UTC)
[Look, he owes her. And he knows Jem, she'd laugh about it once the trauma wears off, and she could use that. Which is why he pauses for a moment on the latter question, not defaulting to his usual fine, or throw-away disclaimer.]
Her demon boyfriend went back to his demon home. So she's a bit fucked. Then again, apparently she's eloping there with him, eventually, but her debt's taking longer to pay.
[He takes a moment to think if that answer's John's question.]
And we're out of crunchy nut. Otherwise, scraping through.
[ he's still surprised, occasionally, by the insanity of some people's lives here. the demon bit isn't fresh news but it's been easily forgotten and his rising brows tug his hairline down - sometimes he's incredibly grateful that he's managed to have such a normal experience here. but it's an answer, a real one, and it slowly catches up: she's been left behind, however temporarily, by someone important.
[At last, a serious conversation. Freddie idly attempts moving in the moments that follow, but the height seems dizzier now than when he'd come up here pre-wine, and swaying on his knees isn't a good sign for what might happen on his feet.
Wow. [ that was decisive. also not something he's in a particular position to contest, being more of a toast man himself. ] Good to know you've got strong opinions on cereal. Hope is not lost for the youth of today.
[ but he thinks there's some shuffling, John's not deaf, and he falls quiet to listen just as the shuffling stops. a beat, and: ] Are you stuck.
[Don't be stupid, John. He's actually offended by the insinuation. Haven't you met him: lithe as a mountain goat and twice as horny. He could get off the roof if he wanted, but he doesn't so he'll just lay back down and
John sweeping his hand down his face can be easily heard ]
Are you in danger of falling.
[ it's a flat tone both out of vaguely amused exasperation and the knowledge that the answer will be some form of denial while the reality is probably yes and these are the last moments of peace he'll have before he gets up in search of keys ready to speed off into the night ]
[ ... hang on. if that's not a deflection, he doesn't know what is. he's also not going to bother pussyfooting around it: Freddie's stuck in a roof, there are more important things to worry about than whatever it is he doesn't want John to see, which it's now impressively obvious is something. ]
Whatever you've got secreted away in the attic, I can ignore it. Or if you really don't want me there I can get in contact with Jem. I'm not leaving you in a roof.
No- [A small flare of irritation, don't you call Jem.] Don't fuck up the Jem plan. I do have a phone, you might have noticed.
[He'll just detach his leg from the hole. Or possibly just detach his leg. One of these options is bound to work. Meanwhile, enjoy the sounds of tile confetti.]
And there are no secretions in my attic. You've seen it. It's too cold for that.
You're being strange about the attic— [ which is fine, John's not going to push it, the tone isn't indicative of a desire to know why it's just a statement that he's not completely stupid except then there's tile confetti and he's trying not to get nervous, he really is, but— ] Could you stay still? You're on a roof.
[ he knows he's on a roof, John. if he didn't before, you've mentioned the roof about nine times. he knows. ]
First you want me to get off... do make up your mind.
[A moment while he grumpily reaches for the wine and more grumpily realises there's none left in the bottle.]
I have to stay still, don't I. I've only got one leg. [Obviously. he slowly watches the wine bottle roll away down the roof until the motion makes him dizzy. Dizzier.] I suppose you've dealt with loads of them - amputees.
[This situation may sound more dramatic than it is.]
[ and John's fine, he's absolutely fine, there's not the slightest haste in him as he gets up, turns back to let himself in and take a calm, collected walk around his front room in search of shoes, keys, a light jacket. for now, the situation is entirely fine. nothing to worry about. it's all just in case. ]
I want you to stay still.
[ to clarify. that's the right instruction to follow. calm, completely calm. collected and calm. ]
—Well, so long as those are alright, eh? [ a slightly distracted pursuit of light conversation is just what the doctor ordered. ]
[To clarify. Even tipsy (drunk) he knows you, John. He knows your small noises and small desires to let things slide that your nobler instincts won't countenance. And really, he's got his foot through a ceiling but he's perfectly safe.]
I'm just wonky. And... [No, there's no word to pin down this precise lightness to his head. Just a soft laugh and a pause.] So you don't need to bring your toolkit. You can bring another bottle, though, if you're coming. Might as well spend the night.
[He couldn't make John's wish more solid with a seconding of his own. But, it's not too hard to make it come true.]
[ no he won't. not now, maybe later. wonky isn't reassuring. but Freddie's fine, that's good, and he does his level best to know that in a broader sense and listen to it: he's not hurt, he's just wonky. and he's going to stay still. all fine.
John will take time to appreciate it for what it is later, too. take the appropriate amount of time to be both fond and grateful. for now, he's scattering dry food into a bowl and pulling the door closed on his way out with more force than it needs and heading off into the evening ]
If I find out you've sacrificed a leg to the attic for the sake of fast-tracking operation Jem... [ it's a light threat, sans the threat. play, to realign his focus and keep Freddie's voice coming down the line. ]
You'll lecture me. Which is more terrifying since I can't run away. Anyway, it's my leg, I can do what I like with it. We agreed.
[What was agreed, technically, was that the heat of each other's mouths was a welcome distraction from snarling over whether Freddie had the right to make reckless decisions and, furthermore, whether John had the right to care.
Nothing was ever resolved, in any sense beyond the physical. And Freddie will always be someone with an instinct to walk out onto a roof without checking the structural support.
John will always be structural support. And willing to risk rooftops, too, even aware that they're dangerous.]
[ a laughing scoff-- well done, Freddie, that's one spontaneous reaction more than he thought himself capable of. ] Glad to know I can strike fear into the heart.
[ John doesn't feel much like support of any kind right now. too far away with too much time between them, a position he's been in before and never— never wanted to be in again. and it's different, wildly different. different because he already knows what this feels like, different because it isn't that, different because he didn't know what he was walking towards then but he knows exactly now and he knows, too, that it's fine. it's fine, Freddie's fine. nothing about this is anything like—
a heavy swallow opens into a small sound as he walks, strides really, night not moving fast enough around him. ]
Edited (fucks sake i always forget I have to hit a button) 2016-05-20 01:35 (UTC)
You, you're terrifying. I've heard you can break a man's spine.
[This position is, honestly, starting to get a little uncomfortable now. The tension just edges Freddie's voice, as he carefully tests for movement - whether it's possible to pull his leg out without the momentum tumbling him down the side of the roof.
He should, possibly, have chosen somewhere flatter for this adventure.]
Bit like a massive pissed off swan. In a cardi.
[No, he's wedged too tight, foot shoved through the roof of an attic that John's visited before - a sparse, dimly lit space empty of just about anything except steel girders and un-connected plumbing pipes.
It wasn't a workspace, before. There was no easel tugged into the middle of the room or walls plastered with sketches in progress. No signs that Freddie Baxter might be attempting to do anything with a purpose. No cluttered collection of lamps and random light strings which are going to be a little too exposed once there's a big fucking hole in the roof to contend with - something Freddie realises at roughly the same moment John should be approaching the building.]
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[It's possible this is a trick of the alcohol, but the point is he's fine, and the view's beautiful, and (now) the company's not bad either. There's a whole collection of new arrivals out there but he's not tapping his fingers, impatient to sort through their number. They'll be around later.
Or they won't.
That's just how this place works. He's getting used to it now, a state someone might call settled, if they didn't know how he works.]
Jem's not going back to her world, she says. And she says you look like her dad so can you ruffle her hair when you meet her please? Ask how she's keeping up at school.
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—Oh, definitely. [ a throat clear to get rid of the rest of the roughness ccchrist and no, no, he's not quite recovered. all else that follows is just a simple: ] God.
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[You can tell when he's smiling, it's like his voice turns up at the corners.]
You don't look like mine. [And he's only just old enough to be parent to either of them, really. It's nothing to dwell on.] Do it, though, it'll be brilliant. Especially if it's first thing and you're just in your pants.
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still, there's a snort, and a small throaty noise that marks John pulling himself up to his feet to usher a grumpy cat inside with his foot and shut the door behind her. ] Hi, nice to meet you. Hope you enjoy that permanent mental scarring. Did you want tea? I'm just brewing up.
[ fhumph, he's back down and seated. another sip from a reclaimed glass, the storyteller's voice discarded in favour of a question: ] You two doing alright over there?
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[Look, he owes her. And he knows Jem, she'd laugh about it once the trauma wears off, and she could use that. Which is why he pauses for a moment on the latter question, not defaulting to his usual fine, or throw-away disclaimer.]
Her demon boyfriend went back to his demon home. So she's a bit fucked. Then again, apparently she's eloping there with him, eventually, but her debt's taking longer to pay.
[He takes a moment to think if that answer's John's question.]
And we're out of crunchy nut. Otherwise, scraping through.
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he doesn't know her, but he knows that.
a second or two, and then: ]
Plain or clusters?
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[At last, a serious conversation. Freddie idly attempts moving in the moments that follow, but the height seems dizzier now than when he'd come up here pre-wine, and swaying on his knees isn't a good sign for what might happen on his feet.
He can sleep here, it's fine.]
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[ but he thinks there's some shuffling, John's not deaf, and he falls quiet to listen just as the shuffling stops. a beat, and: ] Are you stuck.
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[Don't be stupid, John. He's actually offended by the insinuation. Haven't you met him: lithe as a mountain goat and twice as horny. He could get off the roof if he wanted, but he doesn't so he'll just lay back down and
clatter-atter-atter-shatter-smash.]
...Well I wasn't when you asked.
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oh my gggggod
John sweeping his hand down his face can be easily heard ]
Are you in danger of falling.
[ it's a flat tone both out of vaguely amused exasperation and the knowledge that the answer will be some form of denial while the reality is probably yes and these are the last moments of peace he'll have before he gets up in search of keys ready to speed off into the night ]
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[He may or may not have put a leg through the roof, he couldn't possibly comment. There's no panic in his voice, at least. Mild pragmatism.]
It isn't far.
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Is Jem in?
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[He's fine he can just work this hole a little bigger and fall through.]
It's fine. It's like I just installed a new shower.
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Have you made a hole in your roof? [ another..... sigh..... ] At least you don't need to worry about the deposit.
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[A sudden stop. A pause long enough to swallow a word.]
Things. Could use brightening up. Actually, Jem's probably on her way back by now, it's fine.
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Whatever you've got secreted away in the attic, I can ignore it. Or if you really don't want me there I can get in contact with Jem. I'm not leaving you in a roof.
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[He'll just detach his leg from the hole. Or possibly just detach his leg. One of these options is bound to work. Meanwhile, enjoy the sounds of tile confetti.]
And there are no secretions in my attic. You've seen it. It's too cold for that.
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[ he knows he's on a roof, John. if he didn't before, you've mentioned the roof about nine times. he knows. ]
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[A moment while he grumpily reaches for the wine and more grumpily realises there's none left in the bottle.]
I have to stay still, don't I. I've only got one leg. [Obviously. he slowly watches the wine bottle roll away down the roof until the motion makes him dizzy. Dizzier.] I suppose you've dealt with loads of them - amputees.
[This situation may sound more dramatic than it is.]
Still, my face and my cock are both fine.
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I want you to stay still.
[ to clarify. that's the right instruction to follow. calm, completely calm. collected and calm. ]
—Well, so long as those are alright, eh? [ a slightly distracted pursuit of light conversation is just what the doctor ordered. ]
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[To clarify. Even tipsy (drunk) he knows you, John. He knows your small noises and small desires to let things slide that your nobler instincts won't countenance. And really, he's got his foot through a ceiling but he's perfectly safe.]
I'm just wonky. And... [No, there's no word to pin down this precise lightness to his head. Just a soft laugh and a pause.] So you don't need to bring your toolkit. You can bring another bottle, though, if you're coming. Might as well spend the night.
[He couldn't make John's wish more solid with a seconding of his own. But, it's not too hard to make it come true.]
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[ no he won't. not now, maybe later. wonky isn't reassuring. but Freddie's fine, that's good, and he does his level best to know that in a broader sense and listen to it: he's not hurt, he's just wonky. and he's going to stay still. all fine.
John will take time to appreciate it for what it is later, too. take the appropriate amount of time to be both fond and grateful. for now, he's scattering dry food into a bowl and pulling the door closed on his way out with more force than it needs and heading off into the evening ]
If I find out you've sacrificed a leg to the attic for the sake of fast-tracking operation Jem... [ it's a light threat, sans the threat. play, to realign his focus and keep Freddie's voice coming down the line. ]
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[What was agreed, technically, was that the heat of each other's mouths was a welcome distraction from snarling over whether Freddie had the right to make reckless decisions and, furthermore, whether John had the right to care.
Nothing was ever resolved, in any sense beyond the physical. And Freddie will always be someone with an instinct to walk out onto a roof without checking the structural support.
John will always be structural support. And willing to risk rooftops, too, even aware that they're dangerous.]
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[ John doesn't feel much like support of any kind right now. too far away with too much time between them, a position he's been in before and never— never wanted to be in again. and it's different, wildly different. different because he already knows what this feels like, different because it isn't that, different because he didn't know what he was walking towards then but he knows exactly now and he knows, too, that it's fine. it's fine, Freddie's fine. nothing about this is anything like—
a heavy swallow opens into a small sound as he walks, strides really, night not moving fast enough around him. ]
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[This position is, honestly, starting to get a little uncomfortable now. The tension just edges Freddie's voice, as he carefully tests for movement - whether it's possible to pull his leg out without the momentum tumbling him down the side of the roof.
He should, possibly, have chosen somewhere flatter for this adventure.]
Bit like a massive pissed off swan. In a cardi.
[No, he's wedged too tight, foot shoved through the roof of an attic that John's visited before - a sparse, dimly lit space empty of just about anything except steel girders and un-connected plumbing pipes.
It wasn't a workspace, before. There was no easel tugged into the middle of the room or walls plastered with sketches in progress. No signs that Freddie Baxter might be attempting to do anything with a purpose. No cluttered collection of lamps and random light strings which are going to be a little too exposed once there's a big fucking hole in the roof to contend with - something Freddie realises at roughly the same moment John should be approaching the building.]
Fuck.
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