January 27, 2003.01.27.03. - homecoming [tristan][north jersey]
(tristan)
Sometime this morning (afternoon) Harbin untangled himself and after a quick breakfast(lunch) started back toward Basto... Shortly after that he managed to pull exhausted form into the shower and sooth any aches that were left after the last round and another bit of Mother's touch.. whisteling merrily. Since then, he's gone about cleaning up the place a bit, and through it all there's a serious case of permagrin going on. He's finally pulled on a shirt, and is in the process of pulling on shoes.. its money making time.(james)
somewhere way before noon he left
the rest of his pack was resting, healing
he? needed to walk
after last night's little escapade
and the note he found tacked to the door on his way out
the Gnawer needs to walk some things off
sort some fucked up things out in his head
not like he was really able to sleep anywayso there's that trenchcoat shrugged onto muscular shoulders
and he's been beating the street throughout the entire afternoon
just reassociating himself with the familiar territory
seeing if anything's changed in the days (years) he was gone
that's when night falls
he sat in some park on some bench watching the sunset
the orange and red glow reflecting over the ice covered grass
the way that slowly neon sheen settles to the deep frozen brilliance of nightthen he's walking again, stopping before some gait
a giant keyring pulled out of his pocket to let him through
(what, he was supposed to ring?)
this'll be the second time he's shown up unannounced
a part of him chiding at the sheer audacity of it
but for some reason he doesn't care
the buzzer on Tristan's door is rung
and then his shoulders are backing against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway(tristan)
Boots pulled on, tied, and he stretches slowly - juuuuuust to see where those aches and pains are so he can be prepared when on his feet, and then its the grand search for his keys - laying wherever they fell when he tossed them when they got her.. found and shoved into a pocket just as the buzzer rings.. "Just a sec" called as fingers run through tangled array of curls, pulling them out of his face even through they simply fall back, hand straightening shirt, just making sure he's semi presentable and all before he opens the door...
and stops, and that grin spreads from permagrin to something warmer, pleased.. damned happy to see him... "Well, hello there. Common in.." If he's upset about the unannounced visit, it certainly doesn't show - he's genuinely happy to see him, and double glad that he seems to be all in one piece. he steps back so James can enter, questioning.. "When'd you all get back?"(james)
dark eyes lift as the door opens
and he stands there a quiet moment before pulling off the wall
something of a smile forming to see the warmth in the Kin
(....family to come home to)
but there's something about him
tired, haunted, distracted
and he's trying not to show it"Early yesterday."
hands running through dreads when he slips inside
hands digging in pockets for that pack
a scowl crossing his face to see that it's all but empty
and nimble fingers pull one of the two Camels left free
looking back in something of an apology"Woulda dropped by earlier but had an errand to run. How ya been?"
(tristan)
He tips his head, slightly.. noting what his friend (family) is trying to hide, and closing the door behind him, nodding to the new pack by the ashtray on the coffee table, sitting next to his lighter.. "Probably.. uh.. a good thing you waited." Said with positively wicked grin, even as he heads to the fridge, reaching in and grabbing a beer for both of them, and moving to sit on the couch, setting the bottles on the coffee table, one nearer where james stands.. he grabs cigarette, lights, and only then does he ask softly on exhale.. "everyone ok?" but mostly, are you ok...(james)
he can't help the slight look back
riiiight during the lightup using Tristan's lighter
the brow lifting in amusement at the pause"Diego come down again?"
go down again
bend over again
either works, he's thinking
next comes the turn and sweep to pick up the bottle
it's toasted silently in thanks
bolting back a goooood portion of it
letting a long, slow breath fill his lungs"Yeh." everything, not him "Think so. Killed the bad guys, saved the lady, came home."
he's a fullmoon, not a Galliard
sometimes he can fake it
but tonight sure isn't one of those nights
gesturing absently with the cool amber glass"Ran that errand last night, couldn't sleep, spent the day walking around the metropolis that is Hibernia."
(tristan)
Oh and that wicked grin remains, even as shake of head sends curls sliding over neck and chin, into his eyes before sliding away as he tips bottle back. "Nope. A sweet georgia boy.. fiddle player, though I've yet to hear him play.." oh but the things he did hear....
He nods, listening, or more so watching, brow quicking a bit. Some nights can be faked, other's cant. And he's not answering the unanswered question either. and he? Well, he finally asks it out loud - perhaps giving it voice will help. "And what about you - something's got you all worked up to keep you up and walking all day."(james)
he just..... laughs softly, shaking his head"Tristan. You dog."
then when the question's voiced, he just stops
no chuckle, no sigh, just.... nothing
silently looking at the orange carpet
studying the tread loose there, or the stain here
there's the sound of the crackling tobacco on next inhale
there's the sound of the exhale clouding smoke up towards those eyes
there's the sound of a few more swallows of that cold beer
just wondering how in the hell to phrase this"I..... saw something." stopping, correcting himself with the waved beer "... Someone last night that's just bugging me. Didn't have to do any healing, so just got out of the condo and back into familiar territory to work through it."
shoulders roll in a shrug hoping to push away some of the tension
and even though he calls the condo home
with it's electronics and plush carpet and multiple rooms
it's places like this where he's really home
one room, threadbare carpet, 70s fashionable walls, secondhand couchbed(tristan)
At the first, he has the grace to blush a little - but its surrounded by that permagrin and just doesn't look like he's truly embarassed. He is what he is - and goddamn it was good and that's just all there is too it. "What can I say? I've a thing for cute boys with accents."
He's quiet then, giving James the time to work through it in silence filled with little sounds... exhales, inhales, swallows.. filled with quickly growing familiar sites.. faded carpet, faded walls, things that remind him of home and have become home all at the same time.
Little sounds, little sights, but as a whole he mainly watches his friend. The way he talks. the way he evades. the way he stumbles in on some way to making an explanation.
When it finally comes, there is no disbelief, there is only a slight nod, and soft probe.. "Bugged you how?" If nothing else, maybe talking it out will help clear things up a bit for his friend.(james)
"Because they're dead, Tristan."that was nice and blunt, wasn't it
punctuated by the hollow sound of empty bottle on counter
not slammed, just gently set, but the sound rings out just the same
inhale, exhale, ash, look, frown, stub out
clawing the last Camel from his own pack
not ready to dig into Tristan's just yet"Or at least they should be. They were. They. Are. Little trip last night just made it seem like they weren't." it's shrugged away, forcibly, and his hand finds another pocket, pulling out a little ball of plastic and tossing it towards the kin "Just wanted to bring that by, say we were back. 'Night Tris."
that's when he just turns
whatever's on his mind spooking him more
heading to the door to leave(tristan)
Bottle set down. Cigarette finished, plastic tossed. He catches, on automatic without looking at it just yet, just making sure it is in its hand. He nods, slightly, in some sort of understanding.. even if he doesn't understand at all. But some things? you just have to work out on your own.. and help isn't going to be accepted, even if its known that it will be availible at any time. Even if he can't really help, or do anything other then listen. Lip curls in something of a lopsided grin. "thanks." for whatever it is, for the notice that they're back - and well, not necessarily ok. but back. A final drag off cigarette, its stamped out, and he looks back toward the door... "If you need to talk....." the rest unsaid, the acceptance unconditional. A moment, a pause, and simply. "goodnight, James."James leaves, door closes behind him, and he just.. stares at it a moment or two. before relaxing back into the couch, proping foot on the table top and finally looking at the whatsit in his hand, unwraping, and the smile is born again to see the Kentucky shot glass which is set on the coffee table with a chuckle. It'll be well used, he's sure...
Posted by james at January 27, 2003 12:00 AM
Another glance toward the door,and fingers drag thorugh those curls, and he lets head fall back to look at the ceiling. He was worried when he was gone - expected him to be a little broken up when he came back, maybe even not coming back at all, but this was... well. worrisome.
He finally stands, slips on sweater, coat, and grabs his violin case. Don't think he'll be playing tonight.. at least not for money, but he heads out anyway, locking up behind him, tucking keys in pocket and heading...
pause...
fuck it. heads toward the condos. If nothing else, the walk will do him good.
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