dualislogs | They know your secrets and you know theirs

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They know your secrets and you know theirs

WHO: Erik & YOU
WHAT: Rick's Bar might not be the most happening joint, but the new bartender is pretty easy on the eyes. If you're into older guys.
WHERE: Rick's
WHEN: October
WARNINGS: Nothing yet, will update if necessary.

[ Full time work at a bar that doesn't get much foot traffic means that Erik has plenty of time to clean. The divey joint hasn't been this clean in years. Depending on the time of day, anybody who happens in may find him meticulously slicing up garnishes that will probably never be used, hand-drying pint glasses so they don't get water spots, or just polishing all the brass fittings around the bar and the booths.

As he works, his mind is occupied with everything he's seen and started to suspect about what, exactly, is going on here. He has some theories but nothing firm enough to bring to anybody. But since he attended the meeting with the Heart, he's hoping to network with some of the other potential resistance members.

With all of this on his mind, he might not notice when somebody walks in, appearing to be utterly absorbed in whatever tarnish or dust he's trying to eliminate. Eventually, though, he'll realize he's not alone. ]

Ah. What can I get for you?

[ Maybe not the warmest welcome by objective standards, but for him this is positively effusive. ]

OOC: will match format!

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[ charles grins as he sidles his chair close to the counter. ]

Scotch on the rocks. If you don't mind.

[ Erik smiles, his eyes soft. The floor beneath Charles' chair lifts a few inches, raising him to a more comfortable level, as he fetches a dusty bottle from somewhere under the counter and pours a few generous fingers. ]

I'm glad you came in. There's something we need to discuss.

[ His tone slides toward the serious. ]

[ charles tilts his head, bemused. to anyone else, that would be a sign of a potential terrible conversation, but charles knows erik better than that. ]

Well then. No sense in beating around the bush.

[ Erik pulls a manila folder out from under the bar and drops it without much ado on the bar in front of Charles. ]

Do you see this? This nonsense?

[ His dudgeon is rising to considerable levels. ]

[ charles blinks, quizzical. ]

No, I have not. I just got here after all.

[ he starts peeling it open, asking while he turns through the pages. ]

What is it?

Paperwork.

[ He pours himself a shot of the same Scotch he served Charles. ]

In triplicate. That I have to fill out individually because for all their grand technological advancements... [ Erik gestures grandly ] They haven't figured out carbon paper.

[ He glowers. ]

It's my application to switch housing assignments.

I see. So they're giving you a bit of a runaround.

[ though charles will admit it's odd to use paper. and make this much of a fuss about housing. for a futuristic society, he had expected the mentality to have shifted somewhat. ]

But I'm sure it won't stop you.

It's absurd. These rooms were assigned randomly why would they care?

[ There's no reason for it.

No good reason for it.

Erik is quiet a suspiciously long time, drying glasses. ]

It does make one think...

Perhaps it's not as random as it seems.

[ charles watches erik slow down, the subconscious movement of cleaning before he reaches out to touch his wrist. ]

What is there to think about?

[ Erik sets down the glass. And meets Charles' eye. ]

This isn't... It's not a question of what I feel or if I'm ready.

[ It's not just important to him, it's vital that Charles understand that. He folds his hand over Charles'. ]

I've attended a few meetings. Passed messages along. I don't know where this is going and this isn't like Genosha. I don't have backup. I don't have security. I'm not even sure what we're up against, here.

[ they've always looked at their differences first than similarities. mostly when they clashed. and uncertainty seems terrifying, after everything. charles squeezes erik's hand, smiling softly. ]

Neither am I.

But we'll do better together.

[ Erik's hand tightens into a fist. He speaks quieter, as if he's worried they might be over heard.

Who knows. Maybe the dog is bugged. ]

Is it wise to show our hand like this?

[ charles' eyes twinkle at that as he switches to his telepathy. ]

Perhaps not. But it is equally unwise of them to make enemies of us.

[ Erik smiles slightly, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He's not trying to push it, but the echoes of what exactly he's afraid of would be hard to miss if Charles is in his mind anyway. Alles ist gut. I'll turn myself myself in, just let them go. ]

I'm treading dangerous waters, Charles. I can't ask you to do that as well when you've barely gotten your bearings.

[ old, remembered pain. charles feels it like a phantom ache. he exhales quietly and replies in a firm voice. ]

You don't have to. We'll tread those waters. Together.

[ what more could he lose? charles is willing to fight. ]

[ Erik looks away, feeling ashamed of himself. His own weakness. His failures. All the shortcomings that meant he would never be the man he wanted to be for Charles. ]

When I lost Magda and Nina. I wouldn't have come back if it weren't for you. If I lose you...

[ His throat tightens. That all-consuming rage and grief that he nearly drowned in until once again Charles reached down and pulled him up. ]

I don't know if I will come back.

[ charles can't fully refute that. raven is gone and charles, for the most part, has gotten very lucky over the years. he knows how tenuous the line of grief and rage is, especially for erik.

charles covers erik's knuckles with his fingers, clasping the hand. no tremors, no fear. no regret. ]

And I still think the safest place for me to be is with you. We've parted, many times. But we've always found a way to come back.

I trust that. I trust us.

[ Somehow, the depth of Charles' faith in him is still surprising. His hand tightens in Charles'. They've exhausted the topic at this point. Nothing to do but wait to see who was ultimately right in their predictions, whether dire or hopeful. He sighs. ]

Easy for you to say. If I'm right you won't be around to deal with the aftermath.

[ His tone is dry. Gracious in his defeat, as always. ]

[ charles pats his hand with a sunny smile. ]

If you're right, you can use all the "I told you so" you've been saving up.

What makes you think I have any saved up? I've been right for the last thirty years.

[ Huff. ]

Then I admire your commitment in keeping them to yourself.

[ There's something about working at a bar that makes drinking at the same bar a difficult task. She'd tried it for awhile but when you know the drunks by name or that the gin and vodka are watered down an obscene amount, it sort of makes you want to find another place to duck in.

And so, here she is, elbows propped up on the bar. It's not the first time she's come here, it won't be the last time (it's all about location these days), and his lukewarm question doesn't seem to bother her one lick. ]

What's the cheapest shit you've got? [ She's had the good shit. Sure, it's fun, but then it's less fun the next day. She drinks less if it makes her want to gag. ] I want the brown paper bag shit.

[ She slips a canvas sack off her shoulder and sets it in the chair next to her. That chair is now also hers. ]

I have this in the plastic bottle.

[ Erik lifts a bottle of some kind of pale brown fluid. ]

I think it's better suited to degreasing engines than consumption. Good enough?

Looks fucking disgusting—I'll take it neat. [ All liquor takes her to the same place and while she's been introduced to the more top shelf booze, some days she just wants something that burns, like some fucked up self-flagellation. ] I'll take a beer chaser with it, though. Something dark, dealer's choice.

[ Her drunk future is in Erik's (hopefully) capable hands. (Actually, her future is in the hands of the porcelain throne but whatever) ]

[ Erik nods and pulls a pint of porter. ]

Any particular reason you're feeling the need to punish yourself with the dregs?

[ He doesn't exactly have a wellspring of empathy, but he is curious about the other people who have had the bad fortune to end up in this place. ]

[ She feels a little called out and ducks her head with a grin to hide the fact. She's got a wealth of reasons to punish herself though it's only a few that brought her in today. ]

Who says it's punishment? Maybe I just want to get drunk cheaply?

[ One eyebrow lifts at the sudden bashfulness. He hadn't expected score a direct hit so soon and he doesn't pry. Who knows what inspires guilt complexes among these people. But experience tells him he'll have better luck finding out if she doesn't feel like she's under direct attack. ]

Well. This will do that.

[ He sets the porter on the bar in front of her, still milky with carbonation settling out. ]

And make you feel twice as sick for half the intoxication.

[Drifter's transitioned into somewhat average clothing. His armor forgone for the sake of a nice casual suit fitting of the atmosphere. Still with that jade necklace of twin snakes hanging around his neck, though, and bandana trying to manage hair that'd be disobedient if he weren't wearing it.]

[He comes in and puts a piece of paper on the counter.]

Actually I was wonderin' if you'd do me a favor. Pass this onto a woman named 'Nick'. I heard a thing or two and thought she might be interested in some of the services I can provide.

[The paper is simple. It has his contact information, username 'derelictdrifter', and the simple words 'will construct specialty items on request, arrange meeting, talk in person'.]

[He is looking at the drinks though.]

I think I could stand somethin', though. I'm always a little thirsty. What might you deem decent when it comes to clear spirits. I'll take advantage of havin' access to the best.

[ Erik sizes the man up. He looks capable, a sort of habitual economy of movement that comes along with a lifetime of combat experience. Almost like grace, in a way. ]

Oh? We can always use an extra busboy, I suppose.

[ He takes the note. And then glances at the top shelf. ]

I have a very good tequila.

Ah, come on, man. This is a waiter's face at the least. [As he says that, he turns his head and draws lines down the scars on either side with his fingertips, something having swiped across his cheeks at some point. His beard now covers the majority of the damage.]

Thank you kindly, though.

[He settles onto a bar stool for the moment, making his own perusal. Clean enough to not attract attention. Casual enough that more strict types might be wary.]

[He just wasn't used to being barehanded so he has worn a pair of gloves, thin leather. They wouldn't take the heat of him needing to use his abilities, but at the moment feel more normal than not. So he pulls out one of his coins to fiddle with between leather clad fingers, letting it pass between them.]

How long have you been workin' here?

Waiters are more than just a face, my friend. There's also people skills, coordination and balance, excellent memory, the ability to multitask.

[ It's true but Erik also suspects they are speaking in code. Or at least he is. There is more than meets the eye to this establishment, and if his instincts are right it's that aspect that has drawn this man here. ]

But it's not my call. My advice? Bring a couple of Milkbones to the interview.

[ He shrugs and goes back to drying glasses. ]

A few weeks. How long have you been here?

Memory is too good for my liking, Brother. But I can multitask pretty good.

[Drifter's face pinches up at the mention of a Milkbone. The moment he sees Rick, his mind will be blown.]

Not too long. Just a couple of weeks.

Luckily I got some experience with other universes, and I get around a lot. So might as well get comfortable, I can work things out and get by.

[He takes a drink of his tequila, keeping a close eye on the room.] Not that I'm gettin' into the profession again, but I used to be a barkeep a long time ago. [Like, centuries ago.] Was a pretty decent career. There's no place people are more genuine than they are on a stool.

[ Erik notes the confusion but doesn't volunteer information. Either he'll ask or he'll figure it out. Either way he'll have to do some work for it. ]

True.

[ Useful for information gathering. Sometimes. ]

Genuinely onanistic most of the time. One's own problems are never so fascinating as when one is three sheets to the wind and under the impression that another is listening. Often the best you're going to get out of it is blackmail material. Sex clubs are faster, and more fun, for that.

Sadly, not a lotta those floatin' around.

[Drifter shrugs.] Least where I'm from. Nobody wants to get caught with their literal pants down, everyone wants to have their armor on when they ain't sleepin'.

Might be different in the city. [The only city. I'm pretty new gettin' back to it an' I ain't walked around it much.]

[ Erik frowns thoughtfully. ]

Somebody should get on that.

[ He has the experience to run one, after all. But that's a thought to be ruminated on later. He lifts an eyebrow at the description. ]

One wonders how you manage to procreate. [ He shrugs. ] Where I'm from we did away with armor once we developed weapons that made it obsolete.

Well if you're talkin' about guns, Brother, I can still make armor strong enough to give you a chance to run. If you're talkin' about people that throw hands a little harder'n normal, well... That is a little bit tougher

[He scratches his beard as he thinks about it.]

Where there's a will [and too much time] There is a way.

Edited 2019-10-21 15:24 (UTC)

Guns aren't the only things. Armor that's strong enough to withstand a missile strike? You might as well be in a tank.

[ He starts thinking a little too much about the logistics of what he thinks Drifter is describing, and once he gets to imagining flaps that he shakes himself out of it. ]

Sometimes there is a better way, you know.

I ain't rigged high enough to withstand a rocket yet. Two grenades, yet. I can block those. But I can build vehicles that can take missiles, Brother.

Alien invaders got some real mean tech to stand up against. I ain't the biggest fan of the Sword Logic -think of survival of the fittest, but a lot harder- but you can't deny that necessity is truly the mother of ingenuity.

What is your better way?

[ Erik understands maybe half of what he says, and guesses at the rest. The question is still impossible to answer. ]

I have no idea. I would have to know more about the resources available and the conditions on the ground to even start. But in my experience, once a hammer is invented the mind can get stuck on hammers. Hammers solve problems, all problems. Not just the ones shaped like nails. And if a hammer can't do the job, just make a bigger hammer.

But sometimes you just need a stud finder.

What makes you so sure I ain't got stud finder, Brother? Or that I can't make some pretty damn thick wallpaper?

[He asks dubiously, squinting a little as he pushes his glass forward for a refill.]

[He came really close to asking if Erik knew where all the studs were and honestly that is not the question he wanted to come out of his mouth. Luckily he saved it.]

[ Erik grins, because he's going to act like Drifter made that joke anyway. And he's not too interested in criticizing this mans' entire society and life's work all that much at the moment. Just idle arguing for the sake of arguing. ]

I'm sure you have ways to get the job done. Where there's a will, there's a way. Right?

[ He refills the glass dutifully. ]

Sorta comes with the territory. If we didn't, there'd be nobody left.

[And being able to come back from the dead only goes so far, as long as you're able to keep up.]

My world's a little odd. We got guns that'd let you shoot someone and put all the energy from killin' them into healin' yourself or somebody else. Complicated kinda place.

But what world's not a little messed up? Am I right? Hahaaa. [He drinks the glass down. He might have some opinions on the subject, but he's also keeping the extent of his abilities close to his chest. They have a lengthy cooldown. He's never been one to waste them if he had to.]

Every world is perfectly normal to the people who live there.

[ There were unimaginable horrors in Erik's childhood that he just accepted as a matter of course as it was all he knew. Not all, of course. Even knowing nothing else there were things he knew was wrong. But the transition to living free in society was abrupt. ]

It's enough to make one wonder what is expected of us, here. Who among us knows how to make a truly just and prosperous society. Or whatever it is we're supposed to do.

Eh, what the hell is 'normal' besides boring.

[He gestures around.] Outside of a few places like this, the whole damn city is 'normal'. Normal is infectious. Like a disease you can't quite get over. Never lets you heal, never lets you grow.

Then you get too much of the 'abnormal', too much at once hits like a shock to the system. But I figure, hell, people are gonna adapt sooner or later. Or maybe I need more to drink before I get to philosophizin' too hard.

I could do with some boring sometimes.

[ It's nice that he's been able to sort things out with Charles despite their unexpected relocation. Still, he had wanted to do it in Paris. Had wanted to bring Charles home. To show him everything he'd managed to build since he left Westchester the last time. ]

People are remarkably resilient when the choice is adapt or die. Even if they want to simply lie down and die, it can prove damnably difficult to do that.

[ He spreads his hands, palms up. ]

What better place to philosophize than a dive bar in the middle of the afternoon.

I think a lotta people feel that way. But sometimes when you get set down a path, you ain't gonna find boring again.

[He gestures around loosely.]

At least you're gonna get to see action in bystander form as a bartender. Even if that action amounts to a fool gettin' himself slapped over some poor life choices.

[ He's quiet for a moment, before returning to his very important work with the glasses. ]

I had boring for a while. Better part of a decade. Wouldn't mind having that again.

[ Erik laughs and shakes his head, his expression turning decidedly rueful. ]

Better than being the fool, at any rate. Although you never know. He did forgive me eventually.

[ Erik winks. ]

[There's a moment where Erik strikes a cord. Drifter is an old, old man. The one thing he won't get is forgiveness from the person he'd like it from the most. He knew her in her mortal days, in her immortal days, and now acquainted with her in her ethereal days. It's a complicated history, knowing someone for literal centuries and watching them go through a shit decision because they were mad at you.]

[It does clear up his expression a little, though he tries to hold onto that carefree hint to it. It doesn't reach his tired looking eyes.]

Yeah, forgiveness is a hard thing to come by. Cherish that, brother. Cherish that.

[He might need one more drink now. He pushes the glass forward.]

[ Erik doesn't miss the subtle tells that he inadvertently stumbled onto a sore spot. He laughs softly, and tries to pivot away from it. ]

Until the next time I do something to piss him off.

[ It really is inevitable. He refills the glass. ]

Either way, I'm not going to get to see boring again anytime soon.

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They know your secrets and you know theirs

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I just left one type of tag and had a brainfart and mixed

No worries! I just roll with whatever

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Just guessing what time of day it is, lmk if this is way off and I can edit!

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