dualislogs | (no subject)

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.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.