Just a Few of Us [Open to Multiple]

[andhiswife]

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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[singthesong]

The Balladeer listens in thoughtful silence, sipping his tea. It's pleasantly warm, leaving heat in his throat and chest, but it does little to sap away the lingering unease from the past few nights. If nothing else, Greta's right about that much; he needs to take breaks in between working on it.

If he's going to at all.

"People aren't always ashamed." In his experience, those who do the worst things are the least ashamed of them. But Bee also suggested that: that Johnny's song was less him and more something that had happened to him. It's never worked that way before. Bad things happen to everybody, but it doesn't have to warp their entire lives. People always have a choice. Put it like an illness, though...that changes his perspective a little. Can that happen? Could something have gotten at the song itself to do that?

He doesn't know. The Balladeer carefully sets his cup down and passes a hand over his eyes again; this caffeine isn't working fast enough for his liking.

"It's what I do," he says finally, somewhat plaintively. "And I can actually get out ahead of these things now. If he really is dangerous, I don't know." It sure seems that way to him, but he's been losing steam on that argument. Whatever the sound is, it has been wearing him down. "Who else is gonna do it?"

[andhiswife]

"He doesn't want to hurt anyone," Greta insists. Johnny has been vague about the danger he poses - deliberately so - but if he truly wished to harm anyone, why mention it at all? The lad's not exactly imposing, and he'd be able to cause a lot more trouble by pretending to be harmless than he would by insisting that others avoid him. "And this," she adds with a Balladeer-encompassing gesture, "is the exact sort of--of damage that he's worried about causing."

She halts herself with a deliberate sip of tea, trying to prevent herself from getting too worked up and accidentally waking the children. Does he really think it's his job to monitor people just in case they should prove dangerous? That sounds a little too close to what ROMAC's been doing - though at least she believes in the purity of the Balladeer's intentions.

Sighing, she sets down her cup. "Is it what you do?" she asks, her tone gentler than it was before. "Listen in on all of our songs in case one of us starts feeling murderous? Have you been doing it to me, too?" She raises her eyebrows, a little challenging, but also genuinely curious. If this is just about Johnny, that's one thing; it's quite another if he's on some sort of one-man crusade to root out potential assassins.

[singthesong]

"What?" The Balladeer sits back a little, frowning. Is that what she really thinks? He's not some kind of freakish musical CIA. "No! Well..."

That's not completely true. He trails off, looking a little guilty, and sets down his cup. Curse aside, his explanations haven't really been the best; he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and thinks for a moment before he speaks. "Okay. It's like this. Say there's a radio playing quietly in that room." He waves a hand towards the nearest shut door. By now, he's assuming Greta's encountered a radio. "You can hear it, and maybe get a general idea of the tune, but you'd have to actually stop and focus to hear how it really goes. But you know...you're doing things, we're having a conversation. So you tune it out."

"I can tell you have a song, and it sounds - " Here he hesitates, giving a little half-shrug. Ordinary is both exactly what he means, and not right at all. " - well, no two are the same, but it's not anything I'd worry about. And I haven't listened to it."

His tone is earnest. That's the important part, to him. On some basic level, he's always listening, but he hasn't been going about prying into his friend's pasts.

"Now, Johnny." The Balladeer shifts, shoulders hunching a little, and picks up the tea again. Not to drink, just to hold. "That was like if the radio was just playing an air raid siren - or screaming," he hastens to add, as he realizes Greta probably hasn't heard those. Neither is a particularly accurate representation, but he thinks the point is clear. "He just walked past me, but I'd have to be deaf not to have noticed that."

[andhiswife]

She meant no insult. Honestly, she doesn't think he'd pry on purpose. It's just that she didn't know how much he could help but tune in.

And, well... she can't help but wonder about her song in particular. What does it sound like to him? How does it compare to the others he's heard? Is it... is it pleasant to listen to, even if only half-so, like a forgotten radio in another room? But she can't bring herself to ask, because that would be as good as giving him permission to listen closely, and she's... not sure she'd like that. In fact, she's fairly certain she wouldn't like that at all. What if it's boring?

But he hasn't listened to it - she believes him, and her expression softens into a faint, placating smile. At least she can say her song isn't worrisome. That will just have to be enough.

Her expression darkens when he shifts back to Johnny's song, though. "That does sound... unpleasant," she allows. But he hasn't been tuning it out - quite the opposite. No wonder he looks so run down. "Can you tune it out?" she asks, suddenly fearful that he can't. There's little point in asking him to leave it alone if it's already too much to ignore, but she hates the thought of him just being stuck with an unfamiliar din in his head because Johnny had the bad luck to walk by.

[singthesong]

The Balladeer, somewhat unnervingly for him, has to consider the question for a second. "I could," he says finally with a slow nod. "I did, for a while after I first met him." He'd never once forgotten about it, but it's only over the past few days that it got stuck in his head like this. He can still hear it now, though it's faint under the sound of Greta's voice, her usual harmonies, and even the faint disparate notes he's picking up from the babies asleep in their crib.

Thinking about it makes it louder, and his grip tightens a bit around his mug. It's fine. He's fine. He can get rid of it anytime he wants.

"It's a lot easier when he isn't actually around," he continues more firmly, careful not to actually raise his voice. "I can handle it when he is, I think, but..." Well, he doubts they're going to be in close contact from now on if either of them has a choice. Those bridges are well and truly burned. The Balladeer is content enough to let it stay that way; even if Johnny is somehow a victim in this, he's never gone out of his way to befriend people who punch him. They're stuck in the same city still, but New York is a big place. They can easily lose each other.

"But I - "

He stops. But what, exactly? Greta doesn't want him listening to it, Johnny certainly doesn't, and he's not exactly enjoying the experience himself. There seems to be a general consensus on that, but something about the situation still bothers him. The Balladeer starts again, speaking as if feeling out the words. "I've never been able to actually change anything before. It didn't bother me - I mean, history is what it is." He'd have driven himself mad, worrying about things no one could ever erase. And, of course, he'd never known anything else. "Here, though...I don't think I could forgive myself if anything happened, and I could have done something to stop it."

He knows he's being vague, but he can't help it. Through all this, all those nights spent trying to translate noise into notes, he's never been able to form a clear idea of what it is he even thinks Johnny might do. It's all too loud and jumbled together, and perhaps he's worn down too from throwing himself at it over and over again. It just seemed like something that horrible and lingering had to be either a relic of unspeakable deeds, or worse, some kind of terrible omen.

If it's something contagious, maybe it still is.

"But if you're sure he's not dangerous..." Whatever the case, his hearing is failing him, and he doesn't know what he's supposed to be doing. Maybe he should try just trusting someone else's normal human judgement.

[andhiswife]

That is an unnerving pause as he considers the question, and Greta releases a breath when, at last, he nods. It's not a lost cause, then. He'll be fine - or he can be, if he makes more sensible choices than he has these past few days.

Well, 'senseless' isn't fair criticism. It's not his fault that Johnny's song is so alarming, and after however many years of repeating the same events over and over, how difficult must it be to cope with an uncertain future? She can't blame him for wanting to protect people - or wanting to at least try.

It's just that trying to unravel this particular snarl might do him more harm than anyone else good.

"I am sure that he doesn't want to hurt anyone," she says slowly. If she was talking to anyone else, 'not dangerous' would be an easier conclusion... but Johnny does seem to pose an indirect threat to the Balladeer. Not an intentional threat, but... well. Greta winces, then admits, "But I'm worried about what listening to his song might do to you." Look at what it already has done. He's losing sleep over it. "If you left it alone, I think everything would be all right."

She doesn't want to think about what could happen if he didn't - or couldn't - just tune it out.

[singthesong]

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.

[andhiswife]

"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.

[singthesong]

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.)

[andhiswife]

"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.

[singthesong]

"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~