bigapplesauce | Just a Few of Us [Open to Multiple]

Current Music: August 28th - September 3rd, 2013

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Just a Few of Us [Open to Multiple]

If it was just the one baby, Greta suspects it would be easier than it had been at home. She doesn't have to balance childcare with running a bakery, and her apartment is too newly-settled (and little-trafficked) to require anywhere near as much cleaning as a shop. And if ROMAC hasn't provided her with much in the way of human aid - there is a nursery she can bring them to when necessary, but it's busy and noisy and a few of the children there have alarming Rift enchantments to contend with, so she treats that as a last resort - at least they've given her all the material things she could need.

(It both helps and distantly rankles that she's used to doing the bulk of the work herself, anyway.)

Two, though. Two are a literal and metaphorical handful. She often finds herself thinking it's just as well the Witch only promised them one, for both their sakes, and then just for his, and then she has to stop thinking about it. So perhaps it's just as well that she has two to distract her, now.

The poor, motherless things. If they're really motherless. She should stop thinking about that, as well, if only because she hasn't the first idea how to track down their parents if they are here, and it's not safe for her to reach out to those who might be able to help her. Maybe they are orphans. Either way, the best use of her time and energy is giving them the best possible care, so... that's just what she's going to do.

Alone, if she has to.

[ooc: so, Greta's gonna be watching these two tiny babies for about a week and presumably is not going to have much time for anything else, poor woman. But she'll almost certainly welcome visitors ~~unless you're an emotion-nomming creep~~! If your character can finagle their way into the ROMAC base, feel free to have them drop by her apartment. If you can't realistically get into ROMAC but still want in on the baby-related redonkulousness, drop me a line and we can finagle a way to get her out into the Park or something.

Also, since this could take place at any time over the course of a week, just pick your date and put it in the header of your top-level for reference.]

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Not being dangerous and not wanting to be dangerous aren't at all the same thing. But he thinks he sees her point.

The Balladeer sighs. "You're probably right." Under normal circumstances, he'd never even consider backing down from a song, regardless of the potential dangers. These have been far from normal circumstances, however. Taunting the assassins was a careful dance between fun and reckless endangerment, but there haven't really been any fruits from this investigation so far.

Plus, this sounds like it could end a lot worse than just getting shot.

"Okay." He drains what remains of his tea, shakes his head, and mentally tries to focus more on the faint music from the crib. Not fully, the way he would if he really wanted to hear, though it sounds simple enough that he doubts he'd learn a thing - which is actually really interesting! Infants are a new experience on all fronts for him. But even on a low level, it's enough to make Johnny's noise fade a bit in the background.

"Okay," he says again, nodding and mentally counting out time. "I'll try to let it go." Normally he doesn't need to focus on another song to get rid of the first, but this won't be forever. It'll go away. It has to.

"Thank you," she says quietly, as if he's doing her a favor. Well, he's certainly doing Johnny a favor, and maybe it's not such a stretch to say it covers her, too. She'll rest easier knowing he's not pursuing this - as easily as anyone can rest while caring for two babies.

After a beat, she adds, "I do... appreciate that you're trying to protect people." Herself included, though any dangers Johnny might pose have yet to touch her. "But someone has to look out for you, too." She props her chin on one hand, then slides the other across across the table. A peace offering, if he'll take it.

"And you'll let me know if you can't let it go," she says, somewhere between an order and a plea. If he can't forget it, she won't have him wrestling with it alone.

Maybe it's not quite a favor, but he's certainly doing it for Greta more than he is for Johnny. Perhaps a bit for himself too, but he knows himself well enough to know that he'd likely have gone right on doing it if they hadn't had this talk. The Balladeer has always been a little too tenacious for his own good, and that song's strange way of lingering makes it even easier to keep his focus sharp.

"Okay." He smiles and reaches out to take her hand in one of his, squeezing it lightly. Though his expression is still undeniably weary, it's warm. It's going to take some getting used to, having other people looking out for him, but it's a nice feeling and he wouldn't trade it away again for anything. "I will. Thanks."

(He doesn't know what good it would do - she can't do much about it herself and he wouldn't want to risk exposing her. But he's made a promise now, for better or worse. Even more reason to try hard at forgetting.)

"Good." Greta returns the smile, the last, lingering bits of tension draining out from between her shoulder blades. It's nice to think that she's done the right thing by both of her friends, especially when they were so at odds over this. Johnny will be relieved, and the Balladeer will be fine - she refuses to entertain the notion that it's already too late, or that the damage has been done - and they can just pretend this whole mess never happened.

Well, except for the part where the Balladeer and Johnny should probably avoid one another, but she doubts it will be a hardship for either of them. They'll probably both be happy to just go their separate ways. Some small part of her is sorry that they can't all get along, but now that she's been given a glimpse of the risk involved... it's better this way.

She squeezes his hand, then releases him and gets up out of her chair. "I'll get you some more tea," she says, giving his shoulder an absent little pat in passing. If he's been neglecting himself over Johnny's song, he could probably stand some food, as well, but she has biscuits, too. She'll take care of him.

"Alright, thanks."

The Balladeer releases her hand and smiles fondly as she pats his shoulder. Domesticity. How strange. He really IS going to have to get used to this. That's not really a purpose like the one he used to have, but hey - it's something. Hopefully he'll figure out something to do with himself other than Johnny at some point.

Cookies will probably help~

What is going on. Johnny frowns tightly at the thickening plot implications of what they're saying to each other, at least whatever he can make out behind the layers of bullshit and irony, but whatever it is, he doesn't like it. They might be ROMAC, and if Iman's gotten in trouble with them, well... he barely even knows her, they had drunken sex once and she knows a lot of his friends, what's he supposed to do? It was stupid enough when he went in to save Charley having met her a grand total of twice, and he doesn't have to power to do that anymore. He could tell Gabe something's up, but he's not sure he wants to incite Gabe to go back there, not after everything he went through before.

Well, all he can do now is walk on the other side of Rashad, keeping tentative, uncomfortable contact in case he decides to descend again, keeping a suspicious eye on them both. Just get him in the elevator and then he can ask Greta what the fuck is going on. That he can handle.

"I am so good!" agrees Rashad tearfully. "No one knows how good I am! They don't know how much I can help and it's not fair!"

They're making relatively good time now. Get to Asadi. Get to the elevator, go downstairs, get to Asadi. Tell ROMAC where Asadi is, be recognized as the authority figure he should be. Get much less uncomfortable clothes and find somewhere that's not so bright and irritating. Find someone to hold him.

All important goals right now.

Greta nods once to herself. He's not here under ROMAC's orders, he's just... he's just trying to ingratiate himself, like a dog. Goodness knows how he found out Iman was wanted by them, but he did, and now he's trying to deliver her up.

And he honestly thought she would help him! She's still shaking, but it's not just with nerves. When they finally reach the elevator and the doors slide open, she glances over at Johnny with a strained, "Hold the doors, please." Then she steps Rashad inside. Nearly done, now.

"It isn't fair," she agrees as she guides him into the back corner and props him against the wall. "But don't worry. They'll see what sort of person you are soon enough, won't they?" She looks up at his pitiful expression and suppresses a shudder. Now to just get herself out of here.

"You know what? I forgot my keys. Why don't you wait right here, and I'll be back in just a moment." And with that, she hits the ground floor and door close buttons in quick succession before stepping out of the elevator, pulling Johnny after her.

Rashad's shaking enough for all their shaking to become one communal tremor, but his suffering seems to ease slightly when she finally stops pushing him to keep putting one foot in front of the other and instead gives him a place to rest in a corner.

"Oh-ohh,", he objects, not at all okay with this upcoming absence. "Don't leave me, DON'T LEAVE ME!!"

It's fortunate for Greta that she's quick. Rashad launches himself at the doors, and just as it closes there's an alarmingly loud thump as he hits them hard enough to dent them. From inside the elevator shaft comes a wordless wail that diminishes only with distance.

"Jesus!" Johnny tugs back sharply at the slam in the elevator, eyes widening at the slight dent that appears in the doors. Holy fuck, what is that guy? How had he gone so long not suspecting anything?

"What is going on?!" He stumbles to keep up with Greta, grabbing onto her arm. "What was he doing here? Are you okay?"

Greta starts at the loud thump against the doors - hard enough to dent them. She'd known Rashad wasn't human, but she hadn't realized just how strong he was, and she all but hauls Johnny back to her apartment in tense silence. They can't discuss this out in the hall; anyone could hear them. It's bad enough that Johnny will require some sort of explanation without random denizens of the building finding out what's going on, as well.

She still doesn't answer him once they're inside with the door bolted. There are things to be done, things of greater import than explanations. First, she drags her little table over to the door, an impromptu barricade that probably wouldn't even begin to withstand the kind of blow Rashad can apparently deliver, but better than nothing. Then, she checks the children, laying her palm over each little chest, reassuring herself that their pulses are strong, their breaths steady. They're all right. Too still, and too silent, but they're alive.

What would she have done if they hadn't been?

Greta pulls in an unsteady breath, then stumbles over to the edge of her bed and sits, burying her face in her hands. She is not okay.

Edited 2015-04-22 00:07 (UTC)

Johnny lets her move him down the hall and into the apartment, and stands there with his hands limp at his sides, watching while she locks the door, barricades it like that would stop Rashad after what they've just seen, and checks on the babies.

And then she's sitting and holding her head and visibly trembling a little.

Okay, well, fuck.

"Um," he says, floundering for something to do or say, looking around the apartment hopelessly as if there's something that'll help. "Uh, do you..." Need anything? Like WHAT, Johnny, what do you have to offer. She can do everything better than you, probably except fuck shit up and warp reality.

He takes a faltering step toward her. Maybe she has something to drink, he could mix her a stiff drink. No, IDIOT, she's got a pair of infants to worry about, she's not going to want a drink. Why are you so useless.

He comes a little closer, inching to the edge of the bed, not knowing if he should sit or what. Tentatively he reaches out and places his hand on her shoulder. "Greta?" he murmurs.

Oh, Johnny... she wishes he didn't have to see her like this. But she's glad he's here. A little stab of panic lances through her at the thought of him just leaving - she wants that least of all. And it's that fear, as much as genuine appreciation for his timid gesture, that prompts her to lift one hand away from her face so she can cover his with it, keeping his hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she says, her voice as ragged around the edges as the rest of her. "I'm just..." Just what? Just terrified for her friends, and her charges, and herself, because genuine ignorance and a little table won't even begin to shield her against the sort of enemy who can dent an elevator door? What can she even tell Johnny that won't land him in the same unenviable position? "I'm sorry," she concludes, miserably.

What's with these apologies? Who does she think she is, him? He frowns, looking at her hand covering his, and then gingerly sits down on the edge of the bed beside her. He is nowhere near his comfort zone right now, but he hates seeing her like this, and - and there's always a part of him that just wants to make it better, like he never could with the woman she reminds him of.

"It's okay," he says, knowing it probably isn't, knowing first fucking hand how little that helps. Not sure what else he has to offer, he nudges his hand out from under hers and leans over, putting his arms around her. It's slow, it's painfully awkward - it might be overstepping boundaries, as if their relationship isn't weird enough already, but goddammit she looks like she needs a hug.

Awkward, certainly, but it's also some measure of comfort, and she leans into him, hoping even as she does so that it will provide some reassurance to him. She knows this is... not normal, for him, that he's not used to comforting anyone. But he's trying, bless him, and she doesn't want him to think it's not appreciated.

"I just," she starts, the words coming out haltingly between sharp gasps that threaten to turn into sobs, "I feel so--so foolish." She hadn't even checked to see who it was before she opened the door, and then she'd just let him in, and now that he's been dispatched (at least for the moment), it's that much easier to imagine how she might have gotten rid of him sooner, or never let him get the upper hand at all.

The worst of it is that she was so certain he wouldn't hurt the children. Just as she was so certain the Giant wouldn't. And if she was wrong this time, what if she was wrong last time, too?

"I shouldn't have let him in," she moans, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. "I shouldn't have left them."

When she leans into him he follows the motions, stroking her shoulder gently, just giving her something solid to lean against. He can do this. The rest is more familiar territory. He knows regret. He knows blaming yourself.

"But they're okay," he says, half-reassuring and half-double-checking. "And you're okay. You did fine, I mean, you got him out of here, didn't you? You figured out what he does. I've been around him lots of times, he's probably fed off me every single time, and I never noticed." He suppresses a shudder at that. This is so not about him. "Look, I know that was all kinds of fucked up, but it's okay now. And if he tries to come back I can call Gabriel, and he'll be here instantly. It's... a thing he can do." Gabe would probably jump at the chance to answer his prayer, now that he can't just sense him whenever he likes. "Anyway I'm not leaving until you feel better, okay?"

It's not like he had plans today. And much as hanging out with a distraught Greta and two infants, which, where did those come from exactly? sounds about as much fun as being at the MoMA, he feels like he could use a little time looking after someone, instead of being looked after. And he already feels like he owes her so much.

She could correct him. She could tell him it's not just about the twins, but about her son and the girl with the cape. It has been some time since she's worried about them - really, actively worried, as if they're still there, just as she left them, their lives on hold until she can get back. It all seems rather unlikely, and so her dreams of going home had changed with the passage of time. She'd get home in time to help defeat the giant; she'd get home in time to help clean up, and everyone would be so pleased and surprised to see her; she'd get home, and they'd count it a miracle.

She'd get home, and no one would know what to do with her.

That had been the worst she would have allowed herself to think, and she hasn't been gone so long, she's nowhere near that point, yet.

She hasn't even let herself consider the possibility of: she'll get back, and find that there's nothing for her there anymore.

They're fine, because they have to be, because the Giant wouldn't hurt a child, but maybe the Giant would.

She can't think about this anymore, and she certainly can't burden Johnny with it. So she pushes it down, buries it, swallows thickly. There are other things to think about, thank goodness. "I didn't figure it out on my own," she says, still leaning against him, but lowering her hands into her lap. She'll pull herself together in a minute. "He did it to someone else, at a party. Iman was with me. We both saw it." Well, saw the aftermath. She frowns at the thought of Johnny being fed upon by Rashad, but now he knows what's going on and can protect himself. Or call Gabriel to protect him.

That's happy news, and she manages a watery smile. "You went to Gabriel, then? You, er... worked things out?"

"Oh - yeah," he says, a little startled by the subject shift. "Yeah, I went back the next day. Uh, thanks. For helping me out with that." Hesitantly, he draws his arm back to lace his hands together in his lap, looking down at them as he fidgets. "Things aren't, you know, a hundred percent normal again, but we're working on it."

He's not sure what else to say about that, or how much else he's ready to say. But she's probably just trying to turn things away from her anyway. He looks around the room for a moment, grasping for something to offer. "You, uh, want some tea or something?" he asks eventually.

"Good," she says, her tone finding its way back to its usual equilibrium. She gives his shoulder a pat, somewhere between thankful and generally approving. So much had happened that day, she hadn't even thought to check up with Johnny regarding that issue in particular, but she's glad things are improving for him. The poor lad deserves some happiness.

She manages a stronger smile when he offers to make tea. "That would be nice. Thank you." She runs her hands over her face, as if to cleanse herself of the past twenty minutes, then drops them into her lap. "Kettle's already on the stove and everything." She considers offering to help, but she suspects it would be refused, and she doesn't mind letting Johnny tend to her a bit. It'll give her more time to settle herself, and it'll allow him to return the favor from that day in the Ramble.

He smiles faintly and gets up, heading over to the kitchen, quietly glad that she resisted the probably strong temptation to help or turn down the offer entirely. He flicks the burner on and gets out a couple cups, prepping some green loose leaf he finds in her cabinet.

He switches off the heat before the water boils and pours it over the leaves, bringing it over to her.

"Should be good to drink," he says, sipping his own. He surprises people sometimes by knowing how to make tea, but it's really just because for a while that's all he could ever keep down.

As Johnny goes about making tea - and she can tell even from across the room that he knows what he's doing - Greta gets back to her feet to check on the children again. There's no change that she can see. She didn't expect one, really; she'd only hoped there might be some sign of recovery. It had taken Rush much longer than this to come round, but she hates to think of the babies being hit quite so hard (or even worse).

But they're both still breathing. If she didn't know better, she'd just think they were sleeping, and count herself lucky that they'd both gone down at once.

She turns away from the crib when Johnny returns, and accepts the tea with a more steady smile than the last. "Thank you." A tentative sip confirms that Johnny really does know what she's doing, and she raises her eyebrows. "This is excellent," she says, impressed.

"Well, it's good quality tea," says Johnny with a shrug, like what, he literally just added water. "But you're welcome."

He eyes the babies for a moment, not sure if he should ask about them. "What, uh, what're their names?" he asks, like that's a normal thing to ask, right? Who even knows where the bar for 'normal' sits at this point.

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Just a Few of Us [Open to Multiple]

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