bigapplesauce | [closed] Temporarily powerless and homeless

Current Location: Gabe's apartment building and neighbourhood
Current Music: June 28th

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[closed] Temporarily powerless and homeless

It seems every day is more monotone than the last, like he's walking around in a zombie haze - though thankfully without any real zombies, he'd prefer not to do that again. But you'd think a city as weird as this would have more going on. That's what he gets for staying out of trouble.

He sighs as he unlocks the door to his apartment, dropping the keys on a table and running a hand down his face. He sits down in front of the telly, but gets bored almost immediately. Perhaps he should simply go out. Or perhaps he should go hang out with Gabe. He hasn't seen him for almost a week, he realises with a small pang.

Usually Gabe shoots him a text or something if he wants to hang out, or Seth just heads upstairs, but that hasn't happened lately. Probably he's just been busy. Yeah, that's what he'll do, maybe that will shake him out of this funk.

Not bothering with the keys just now, he heads for the door again, simply walking through it before heading upstairs. He knocks twice, but there's no reply. Guess not, then. He's about to leave, but then decides if Gabe's out, he might as well check if Scout's there and if he needs something, so he steps through the door.

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Seth nods thoughtfully. "Well, we're hardly lacking in buildings in this city, so." He takes another drink, leaning back in his seat. It could definitely be useful. He's often been envious of Gabe's teleportation. And he'd so enjoyed having Peter's power for a while, but of course that didn't stick.

"So, what did you do back in LA?" he asks, looking for a lighter subject. Powers aren't a big issue until, well, they actually get them back.

"You know that's some really nice ink you've got there," says Johnny, pointing out the dragon on Seth's neck. He's been eyeing it for a while now. Not the kind of thing he'd draw, necessarily, but it's a nice piece of work. "So I usually say I'm a tattoo artist but... if you want the truth, I was more of a tattoo parlor bitch. Filling caps and sweeping floors and shit." He chuckles and finishes off the whiskey, a little quicker than is called for, but what the hell.

"Gabe has been... sort of 'sponsoring my craft.'" This in finger quotes. He can't seem to keep away from Gabriel in this conversation. So much of his life here is wrapped up in his relationship with Gabriel, it's almost impossible to steer away from it, much as he would like to. "He got me supplies and a desk and shit. He lets me work on him sometimes."

He rolls up the sleeve of his t-shirt to show the half-finished design on his left shoulder. "I didn't do this one, but I sort of designed it. I did this one." He shows the little swirl of branches on his right wrist. "It's nicer now, than it was. Rift did that, I have no fucking clue why."

He's never admitted that. Not to anyone. Not even to Gabe. Seth is so neutral, so... drinking buddy. This stuff just comes out. Or maybe it's for the lack of anyone else to fucking talk to lately.

"And this one." He draws his finger up the line of Latin on his left forearm, standing out dark against his warped mess of burn scars. "Just recently."

He drops his chin into his palm and looks at Seth thoughtfully. "Are you in the market for more, by any chance?"

Seth smiles with interest as Johnny goes on, amused at his enthusiasm. They are nice tattoos though, so clearly the kid's got some skill. He laughs a little as his admittance to the rift changing his work. At least the rift's never changed Seth's tattoos, that's another thing to be grateful for.

It's not particularly uncommon to have a bunch of tattoos, but Seth hadn't really paid attention to his scars earlier. Makes him wonder about Johnny's past -- well, self-destructive, that says something right there. Probably not the most well-adjusted overall, but Seth really isn't one to talk.

"Haven't really thought about it," he answers, finishing his beer and gesturing at the bartender to give them refills. "Not sure what I'd get. This one wasn't the most thought-through decision of my life." He doesn't regret the tattoo, and he is fond of reptiles, but he'd probably choose something a bit less cheesy.

"Well if you think of something you know where to find me," says Johnny with a grin. He eyes the second round as it comes to the table.

"Could we like... order some fries maybe?" he asks a little sheepishly. "I haven't eaten since lunch. Probably best if you didn't have to drag me to a hotel. People might get the wrong idea."

Seth snorts gently and waves the guy over again to order some chips for the both of them. He might as well try to eat something too.

"How about we finish this, then head over to a hotel. Don't really wanna be stumblin' round completely pissed, middle of the night, only to find every hotel we try is fully booked," he suggests, getting out his phone and seeing if he can look for availability online. The freshly cracked screen makes browsing a little tricky, but it works.

"Yeah, sure." Johnny smiles into his whiskey. What a lucky fucker he is, that this relative stranger's willing to pay and put him up. He wants to pay it back - it's not like with Gabe, where it's all understood as part of their whole "thing", this is more like charity. Generosity, maybe, but Johnny does not want to get in the habit of just blithely accepting that shit. He used to have such intense pride that he wouldn't ask anyone for help, he'd live on the streets first. He's maturing, maybe, or he's losing his edge.

He watches Seth browse while sipping at his drink. "So this storm thing," he ventures after a moment. "Did it affect everybody or just like, a handful?"

It's not just to be friendly - making people feel like they owe ya makes them a lot more likely to be helpful to you in the future. And money is currently not really an issue for him.

"Not everybody, but a bit more than a handful. Just in the London area," he answers, still flipping through pages on his phone. "Wasn't common knowledge or anything, but I saw hundreds of people with powers."

"Cool." Well, it might not have been cool. For Seth it was probably just life. But Johnny's starting to feel his whiskey and it sounds fuckin cool to him.

The fries arrive and he eats them a little bit like they're a full course. "So is that where you got the walk-through-walls?"

It was occasionally pretty cool. Sometimes it was just messy and unfortunate. Sometimes it was hilarious, usually because it had just gone completely off the whacked out scale and become ridiculous.

"Nah. Got the power dealing, but I couldn't use the powers I took back then," he says, merely picking a bit as his own chips. "Then here I was eventually able to use them, and that's how I got that power."

"Oh." Johnny eyes him thoughtfully, still mostly focused on eating. "Someone who wanted to get rid of it?"

He's curious, yeah; but he's also a little bit looking for validation, that he's not the only one who doesn't want what the rift gave him (not that he wouldn't mind having it back right about now, just to get into his own apartment).

"Ah, no, that one was... complicated," he answers slowly. Instead of elaborating, he eats chips. He's not sure he's in the mood to talk about the situation with the rebels right now, but he might have gotten just enough beer to not care as much. It's the constant having to decide between turning people further away from the rebels, and revealing traumas of his past.

Complicated. Okay. Johnny knows complicated. He's been through plenty of complicated. Given what Seth's already alluded to, it seems like this might be something unscrupulous. Johnny can't help but wonder what it is - if he took the power by force, or something else he can't imagine - but he keeps quiet, sipping at his drink.

"What did you do before?" he asks casually, making a point of moving on. "And... what are you doing now, if anything?"

Eesh, with the tricky questions. This is why he doesn't share a lot. Well, that and just being a generally private person.

"I, um... provide restricted medical plants," he answers, raising his eyebrows. Seeing as they're in a public place, he doesn't want to be too obvious. And he may be in possession of heavier stuff, but he's kept his word to Gabe to only provide people with weed. It's not exactly as lucrative or exciting, but it's a lot easier on the conscience.

Johnny grins. "No shit," he says, sipping his whiskey with a coy little smile. "I've been known to go in for restricted medical plants from time to time." (Seriously, that wording.) "Maybe you can hook me up sometime."

He hasn't been into any heavy shit for a long time and he's not planning to ever go back. But a little weed never hurt anyone, and hell, he could use the stress relief at this point.

"I mean, all my fuckin money comes from Gabe," he says with a wry shrug. "But he already sponsors my recreational bullshit, so, whatever."

He doesn't really do euphemism well. This is also why he prefers straight-talkers. Though he suspected at least that Johnny wouldn't have a problem with it.

He smiles and nods. "Well, I don't have any on me, so it's just good, old fashioned alcohol tonight," he answers. And he generally doesn't smoke a lot of it himself. It can be nice socially, though.

"He wasn't to enthusiastic about it to be honest, but he seemed alright with it when I told him it was just -- well, plants."

"Yeah, I mean... we're all adults here, right?" Johnny shrugs. Seems like Seth doesn't really have the immunity with Gabriel that he has. He definitely doesn't want to cause any unfriendliness between them, though he can't imagine Gabe is going to turn into a mother hen about his recreational drug use.

"And hey, alcohol's fine with me," he says, raising his glass and finishing it off. Oh man, definitely starting to feel it now. He sets the glass down and rests his elbow on the table, running a hand through his hair. "I will take what I can get."

He grins and works on finishing off his fries. "Are you down for more drinking in the hotel?" he asks. He definitely wouldn't mind heading out sooner, and nor would he mind continuing on this promising trajectory. Having a solid drinking partner is such a great gift, thank you rift-jesus.

The 'I'll snap your neck' hadn't made it evident before that he doesn't have immunity?

Seth's not feeling it as much as Johnny is, probably because he didn't have whiskey, and because he's actually eaten since noon. Probably a good thing, he needs to self-medicate soon, and he'd rather not be drunk for it.

"Yeah," he answers with a nod. "Either pick up something on the way, or we can just go out again after we know we've got somewhere to sleep." Either sounds good to him. A nice coping method for all the shitty stuff that's happened today.

Well obviously that factored into it, yes.

"Great." Johnny nods and sits back. "So this whole situation is fucked," he says after a moment. "But you're pretty cool, at least."

Is that too friendly too soon? What the fuck ever.

Even if it is, it's practically his thing to be unfazed or maybe just mildly annoyed at the weird shit that goes on around him. And someone calling him pretty cool isn't all that weird.

Seth smiles and clinks his glass against Johnny's empty one, before finishing off his own drink. "Gotta take comfort in the little things."

Since he's still got over half his chips left, he picks them up by the paper to bring it along, and pays for the secound round. "Coming?"

Johnny raps his fingers lightly on the table and slides out. Standing up is always an adventure after two shots of whiskey and very little food, but he's doing all right. He follows Seth out of the pub and into the street, the sun is starting to get low in the sky.

"Been a while since I had to live in a hotel," says Johnny, folding his hands behind his head as he walks. "I was holed up with another newbie for a while. Like a week of nothing but bad fuckin dreams. Do you ever have the shared dreams? What's up with that shit?"

Seth checks his phone to make sure he knows where they're going. There's not all that many hotels in the Hell's Kitchen area, so they'll have to walk for a little while, but that's alright.

"Ah, yeah," he answers, putting the phone away. "To be honest, I just try to.. avoid attracting attention in those dreams. Stick to myself. You've got all sorts entering them, rebels and Romac people alike, I'd prefer to avoid both."

"I can't do anything but attract attention there," mutters Johnny, dropping his hands and frowning at his feet. "Not from those people, at least not so far. I'm like a magnet for metaphysical assholes. I don't mean the way Gabe is an asshole. Like... monsters."

How else to describe them, really? Ugh. He wishes he could never sleep again.

"You know how many times I've died in one of those dreams?" Johnny says, with the same tone he would use to tell a complicated joke. "Five fuckin times. You know how many of those times I was murdered? Three." Two and a half, really, since Topher's memory of Gabriel only sort of counts, but he's sure as hell not about to go into that. "That's not counting any of the times I've been tortured or threatened with grievous bodily harm, barely avoided death on I don't know how many fucking occasions. And I haven't been here that long, as you know."

It's really not funny, not at all, but he laughs anyway.

Edited 2014-06-28 13:16 (UTC)

Seth makes an impressed whistle, and offers Johnny some consolation chips. "Harsh. But at least no one's been murdering you while you're awake." He shrugs. Shit happening in the dreaming can be traumatising, but at least it's not generally life-threatening.

"I dunno though, I spent about three months without the Dreaming, and you start to miss it. Not the grievous bodily harm, of course, but.. Sometimes there's nice things, too." And given Seth's recurring regular nightmares, some time to relax other places can be nice.

"Not for lack of trying," mutters Johnny, remembering his first brush with Zagreus in the pub.

Seth's next remark makes Johnny glance up at him in surprise, still taking his consolation fries. "Three months?" he echoes. "How'd you pull that off?"

"Both Romac and the rebels have rooms that block off telepathic contact," he answers, in a would-be casual way. Never mind that room translates to cell, and he didn't have any choice in the matter. It's probably rare for them to offer up these kinds of rooms to people who simply didn't want to enter the Dreaming.

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