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WHO: Duke Crocker; Seifer; Nick; OTA
WHAT: New roommate, new city, new friends
WHERE: The dorms, Isolated Pawn, and Rick's
WHEN: Dec. 8ish? onward

The Dorms – for Seifer
New dimension, new city, new reality, same old Duke. Sure, he only had himself to blame after jumping into another dimension to save his friend, and he really should know better than to assume anything by this point. Even a screaming neon acid trip of a city staffed by Terminators. Trouble like this – if it was a Trouble – needed research. He needed to regroup, rest, figure out where he stood.

Which sounded a lot harder with a roommate.

Sharing his space has never been his favorite thing to do, and it usually never lasted long. Even living with his wife had gotten frustrating, although hopefully his roommate wouldn't be an Evi type and overly interested in what he was doing. Hopefully he'd be able to make some space for himself, set up comfortably, make a home his castle complete with convenient hiding places.

That's why his disappointment shows on his face when he opens the door. It's tiny, there's not even a closet, and hiding would be almost impossible without scuttling under one of the desks or beds. “Once again I'm thankful I didn't go to college,” he quips, stepping in. “Hi. Duke Crocker. You should know, I sleep in the raw.”

Isolated Pawn – OTA
Duke was pretty sure he'd seen the Dualis employment assignment model in a sci-fi show, which was unsettling but not surprising at all. He half-hoped for something futuristic and glamorous like an internship with Star Fleet, or at least not delivery boy, and is only half-disappointed by his assignment. Pawnbroker? Okay, at least maybe he'd get to work with some sci-fi stuff.

It turns out Isolated Pawn has a significant amount of stuff, both sci-fi and less so. It also has an aging owner who is grateful for the help and encourages him to familiarize himself with everything. His first few days of work find him mostly puttering around the shop taking in the stock, puzzling over power tools for people with tentacle appendages and full-spectrum light artwork, but after that he's behind the counter, a confident man.

“Everything's for sale,” he greets the customer with. “Except Gertie. She stays here.” He gestures to a taxidermied marlin on a stand, a pirate hat on her head at a jaunty angle. “What can I help you with?”

Rick's – for Nick
All the best bars are dives, the girl had said. Professionally speaking he disagrees – the Grey Gull isn't a dive so much as it was an event space, and while his own bar will always be his favorite he immediately likes the atmosphere at Rick's. Dim lights, old pictures hanging on the walls, cigarette smoke in the air, a stage at the back of the room (empty tonight), all wrapped around a lively but small crowd getting comfortably toasted after their work shifts; Rick's felt like the kind of cornerstone old watering hole where an ancient bartender would pour you a domestic beer without asking and explain it was your granddad's usual.

Except the woman behind the counter is too young to pull that off. Too fun, too. He checks his phone – yeah, just a few minutes early – and settles at the bar, waiting for her to come over to him. “Hey,” he smiles when she gets to him. “I'll take two of whatever you like best.”

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"No, you forgot that part." And man, was he grateful Nick hadn't led with that. Duke is used to a lot of crazy stuff, from the Ten Plagues of Exodus to aliens to time-traveling, but that? That was hard to swallow. Mostly because he didn't want to. Almost incredulous, he leans in a little and lowers his voice. "I got here by jumping into an evil magic teleporting barn. I thought it was a stretch I ended up coming out the other side. Are you telling me this just happens and people can get spat out anywhere? Places like that?" An alien city was comparatively normal after all that. What kind of hellhole had Audrey landed in?

He takes a moment to contemplate that, absently finishing the rest of his whiskey, before remembering that he is on a date, and dates were not great moments to face an existential crisis. There would be time for that later, time he won't take out of Nick's evening. Brooding in front of her and making her worry she'd disturbed him would make for a crappy first date, and it wasn't her fault she had been through something weird.

Nick gains his gratefulness for saving the moment with the double entendre. Now he really is going to have to get a ukulele, if just to make her laugh. Instead he turns back just as somberly and nods as if they've come to a grave agreement that will later be finalized by lawyers. "If that's what it takes," he nods. "I'll see what I can do." A laugh follows easily after that.

“Sorry.” And Duke’s reaction really does make Nick feel bad for the guy. She fiddles nervously with the scarf in her lap. “I guess I’ve been doin’ this for long enough it don’t feel weird anymore. I forget it ain’t like that for everyone.”

Nick’s curious whether Duke knew what this mystery barn was when he jumped into it, but it seems like a bad time to ask. She files the question away in her mind for later - maybe. If there is a later. No way of telling, and Nick prefers not to think about it. Setting expectations for future dates would be a bad idea - the date currently in progress is what she wants to focus on.

She gives Duke an apologetic smile and lightly clears her throat as he slips back into a better mood, joking back with her about the ukulele, which she continues: “I mean, that’s just an option. There’s plenty of other things you can do to show me how good you are with your hands.” If the rest of the date goes well, he may even have the opportunity to show her one or more of those things tonight.

That's not the answer he wants so he nods, registering it but putting it aside for later. The time to process that was not now. Now he gives her a rueful smile. "Hey, you can get used to anything eventually, right?" That much, he knows.

Duke had an idea of what the Barn was when he jumped into it, but what he'd most known was that he'd needed to save his friend from it. But now he was in Dualis, and while he knows he needs to find Audrey and get home, she isn't here and Nick is. He's sitting across from a beautiful creative rebel girl who makes him feel normal and is waiting to be brought out on a "real" date for the first time. He is not letting that slip by even if he has to buy a ukulele tonight.

"Oh, are there?" He grins, holding his hands up and wiggling his fingers. "What are you thinking? Pinball competition? Basket-weaving? I'll conduct a band if you like." It's easy to smile back at her as he playfully ducks her insinuation. "Your options are reggae or metal. Choose wisely."

Edited 2020-01-01 07:46 (UTC)

"Hey, if you're gonna do basket-weaving, you better make it underwater basket-weaving." She grins. "Go big or go home, y'know?"

She's grateful that Duke seems to have taken her disclosure in stride, returning to the more joking topics of the evening. She has no way of knowing his concerns about Audrey, though if she did, she'd try to do a better job at consoling him over the possible locations she might've landed. Not everywhere she's traveled has been terrible. In fact, in more cases than not, the places she's been haven't been awful, though her stays on those planets were much shorter than her times in Hadriel or even here in Dualis.

She gives him an exaggerated expression of deep thinking, complete with mimed beard-stroking, and hmmms audibly. "Tough decision there. Might need to consult an outside source. Can I see one of those hands in question?" She holds one of hers out, palm up, asking for his.

"Sure thing. Point me to an all-night underwater basket-weaving factory and I'll show you the best basket you've ever seen." Since it seems like he's not going home anytime soon.

Concerns about Audrey are usually better off unvoiced: he reminds himself that if anyone could handle themselves in a rough place, it's Audrey. And Duke doesn't think it'd be a great date move to mention that he's looking for a different, specific woman. Nick didn't deserve to feel like a consolation prize. He was lucky to have met her.

He holds a hand up for her perusal, fingers spread. For what it's worth they are hands that have seen work recently, with calluses from ropes and mostly-healed burns from serving tacos at the Gull. "All yours. Just ignore the skin tone, pretend it works for reggae."

Nick's never felt like much of a prize of any kind, nor like a person that anyone would consider lucky to meet. She's been a convenience, a challenge, even a statement piece, but no one she's ever dated has chosen her simply for who she is like Duke has. If she knew he thought himself lucky to have met her, she'd admit that the sentiment is mutual. She already knows Duke makes her feel different - not just normal but special, for once. There's a spark of something between them, and Nick hopes she'll have the chance to explore the exact nature of it in time.

With a slightly crooked grin, Nick takes Duke's hand and holds it, palm up, in both of hers. She pretends to inspect the lines of his palm, playing at being a palm reader, hmming audibly again to sell the image. Finally, her eyes lift up to meet Duke's again, and she delivers her assessment.

"Well, your music-directing line here says metal, so that's what I'm gonna go with."

Clearly Nick hasn't been dating very good people. Duke's got nothing but failed relationships under his belt, including a failed marriage (or successful if you consider an estranged wife a good thing). He's a fun time who treats women well, but definitely doesn't think he should be anyone's highlight. He just knows fun, and that's what Nick is. How many girls fake palmistry to hold his hand? How could he not want to see where that leads?

"Interesting." He turns his hand over, taking one of hers in his. "I'm down to test it out if you are. Ready for some metal?"

She can be fun, though she hasn’t had much opportunity for it in recent years, and in the farther past that’s usually been a state enabled through liquid means. There’s a much stronger thrill of excitement in the fun she’s creating now, and it feels a lot more genuine than it has in the past. Nick’s heartbeat races when Duke takes her hand in his; the warmth of this connection gathers in her cheeks, just past where her wide, wide smile ends.

“Yeah,” she says, with a slight nod of her head. “Yeah, I am - ready whenever you are.” She gives Duke’s hand the tiniest squeeze, just a quick acknowledgement to reiterate one more time the height of her enthusiasm for whatever’s in store for the night ahead. “Lead the way, Maestro.”

Then she was overdue. If Nick had to be stuck in random dimensions, if she had to deal with the crap that came from a shift like that more than once, she deserved every ounce of fun she could get and Duke is happy to assist in making her smile like that. It's a good smile, the type that should happen often.

He paid for the drinks (the touchscreens here were so much fussier than just slapping some cash on the bar) and stood, helping Nick up like a Victorian gentleman. "I truly hope you're ready for something called Pestilential Hearse."

Nick takes the help up from her seat with a small mimed curtsy, but she loses her ability to play at being genteel when she hears the band's name. She bursts into a good-natured guffaw.

"Pestilential Hearse?" she repeats, like she can't believe she's heard Duke correctly. "Oh my god, that sounds like something my shitty ex-bandmate woulda suggested when we were comin' up with names for our band." She laughs again, genuinely amused. "These guys don't like, spray soda into the audience or anything like that, right? 'Cause if I need to bring a raincoat, we might need to make a quick stop."

"Pestilential Hearse," he affirms, barely managing to hold back a laugh. "That's their real name. I have no idea what they do when they perform, but it's probably terrible." Maybe they were the hardcore type that bled onstage, but with a band name that silly they might not even have the showmanship to splash soda.

"If you want to stop off somewhere, we can. Band's not going to stop playing because we're late."

This is gonna be an adventure - the fun kind, for once, and Nick can't seem to stop grinning at Duke. She did say she'd want to be surprised on a date, and so far, even though it's just begun, this date has been packed with pleasant surprises.

"OK," she says, with a nod, "prob'ly better safe than sorry, yeah? Wanna walk a girl home to pick up a raincoat so I don't get covered in mystery sludge? It's not far, won't take long."

It's easy to surprise Nick because Duke too has no idea what's coming. Both the reggae band and Pestilential Hearse were a mystery to him, and he's glad Nick chose the metal band because it sounded so bizarre. This night's going to be memorable, however it ends up.

"No problem. We're not in a hurry and I'm not trying to get you slimed."

Add one more surprise to the running list from tonight. Nick gestures for Duke to follow her out of the bar's front door. She turns to the right, to a plain, small door, set between the bar and the neighboring barber shop. Nick stops and flashes Duke a teasing grin, then presses her palm to the lock plate and pulls the door open.

"Wanna come up? I'll only be a minute, but I'd never forgive myself if you got mugged down here on the street while waitin' for me."

Yep, definitely a surprise. Duke follows, expecting a short walk and planning on slipping his arm around her shoulders but there's not time for that. He laughs. "You didn't mention you worked from home. Sure."

He glances around the street, which doesn't seem too shady, but looks aren't everything. "Do a lot of people get mugged around here?" He's more curious than worried, because being invited in this early is never a bad sign.

"It has its benefits. Really short commute time, for one." She grins cheekily. "On the other hand, I'm basically always on call, so I guess it evens out." She shrugs and starts heading up the stairs.

"Nah, I was just kidding about the muggings. This ain't a bad neighborhood, and there's so many cameras around the city, I don't think anyone'd try it."

Once they've climbed to the top of the stairs, Nick presses her palm to another lock plate to gain entrance to the apartment itself. It’s a smallish space, cozy rather than cramped, and there is no technology in the city’s standard for current in sight - no computer, not even a television. Nick taps a lamp on the bookshelf near the door to fill the apartment’s interior with soft illumination and holds the door open for Duke to follow her inside.

The furniture inside is comfortably worn but in good shape: another bookshelf full of haphazardly stacked paperbacks and records, an old boxy stereo and record player perched on the topmost shelf, an overstuffed chair to the side of a couch, her guitar in its stand.

"I'll just be a sec," she says, already shrugging out of her jacket, which is then tossed over the back of the chair at the table set in the space between living room and kitchen. She disappears down the hallway to retrieve a raincoat from the closet that stores her coats.

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