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what was mistaken for closeness was just a case of mitosis
Who: Ned and Kenzi
What: Ned's not used to having housemates. He's having some boundary issues.
Where: House 20, afternoon
When: Day 74
Ned's been doing his best to be a good housemate; he has been living on his own since he was 18, knows he's out of practice sharing his space with others. There haven't been any problems thus far. Well, not any problems he's spoken up about, anyway. Little annoyances cropped up here and there, but he took them in his stride. For the first few weeks he was just so grateful to have a place to stay and then, as he came to know the others better, for a place to stay with people he liked, and who, bafflingly, seemed to actually like him in return.
But today, for whatever reason, Ned's fuse has grown quite short. First, it's clear to him, beyond all shadow of a doubt, that someone has been in his room. Things aren't where they are supposed to be, and there are a few little items missing. Nothing important, nothing that's really his, of course. The important point is that someone has been going through the drawers, hasn't even bothered to cover it up. The self-portrait that Daneel had drawn him is sitting under a glass, and the condensation has left the corner of the paper crinkled with a half-circle water ring.
So he's already wound up, already bubbling on the inside when he goes out to tidy the main living area, the way he does once every other day. The coffee table has a pair of jeans on it, small enough that he knows they have to be Kenzi's. He goes to pick them up, feels a sickening lurch in his stomach as he feels and hears that telltale spark of his powers working. He moves the leg of the jeans aside and sees an old, dirty plate with some small bones on it. One of which he obviously just touched, as he was trying to pick up the dirty laundry. With a look of utter repulsion on his face he touches the largest of the bones again quickly, feels the second spark, watches them flash blue for a fraction of a second. From the size and shape of them, they must be from the rabbit that Kenzi and Jesse had cooked the other night.
And that is absolutely the last straw.
He stomps his way up the stairs, the plate held accusingly in one hand, to knock on Kenzi's door.
What: Ned's not used to having housemates. He's having some boundary issues.
Where: House 20, afternoon
When: Day 74
Ned's been doing his best to be a good housemate; he has been living on his own since he was 18, knows he's out of practice sharing his space with others. There haven't been any problems thus far. Well, not any problems he's spoken up about, anyway. Little annoyances cropped up here and there, but he took them in his stride. For the first few weeks he was just so grateful to have a place to stay and then, as he came to know the others better, for a place to stay with people he liked, and who, bafflingly, seemed to actually like him in return.
But today, for whatever reason, Ned's fuse has grown quite short. First, it's clear to him, beyond all shadow of a doubt, that someone has been in his room. Things aren't where they are supposed to be, and there are a few little items missing. Nothing important, nothing that's really his, of course. The important point is that someone has been going through the drawers, hasn't even bothered to cover it up. The self-portrait that Daneel had drawn him is sitting under a glass, and the condensation has left the corner of the paper crinkled with a half-circle water ring.
So he's already wound up, already bubbling on the inside when he goes out to tidy the main living area, the way he does once every other day. The coffee table has a pair of jeans on it, small enough that he knows they have to be Kenzi's. He goes to pick them up, feels a sickening lurch in his stomach as he feels and hears that telltale spark of his powers working. He moves the leg of the jeans aside and sees an old, dirty plate with some small bones on it. One of which he obviously just touched, as he was trying to pick up the dirty laundry. With a look of utter repulsion on his face he touches the largest of the bones again quickly, feels the second spark, watches them flash blue for a fraction of a second. From the size and shape of them, they must be from the rabbit that Kenzi and Jesse had cooked the other night.
And that is absolutely the last straw.
He stomps his way up the stairs, the plate held accusingly in one hand, to knock on Kenzi's door.
no subject
His look of surprise returns again for Kenzi's story. Her little slip about lifting wallets definitely earns a couple startled blinks, but he takes it in his stride, all things considered. Maybe he's starting to build up a tolerance for surprising reveals about peoples' pasts, in this place. Pickpocketing isn't bad at all, compared with psychic assassin brainwashed by the dystopian government or 100% genuine 1920s mobster. It does make him curious - was she one of those people who stole for the thrill of it, or out of necessity, or some combination of the two. Certainly, it puts her taking some hand lotion from his room in a completely different perspective. Maybe it's something she can't even help.
And really, who would he be to judge her for a little thievery? He's a murderer. That ranks considerably higher on the hierarchy of sins.
Then Kenzi continues with the story and a crease forms between Ned's brows. He's pretty sure handling means killing or at least severely beating in this instance, but if they guy slipped something in Kenzi's drink, as far as Ned's concerned he richly fucking deserved it. Ned is starting to like the sound of this roommate, weird experimental enthusiastic noises and all.
"That's terrifying," Ned says, quietly. For once, Kenzi isn't the one doing that intense staring thing she does, but evading eye contact. He doesn't imagine it's the kind of story she shares lightly, and he doesn't treat it like that. He's been in that kind of situation before - not the exact details, but there are shared and analogous elements: being helpless, being in terror for his life, needing to be rescued by someone stronger who can lift him (proverbially, not literally) over their amazonian shoulder. Ned wonders if Kenzi heard about any of that. It's impossible to know who has said what to whom, and he knows that gossip travels in a place as small as this.
He also recognizes that pattern of thought which leads her to blame the situation implicitly not on the douchebag but on her 'rookie mistake' of taking the drink in the first place. So much easier to recognize the wrongness of that logic, in someone who isn't himself. He understands what's behind it, but he doesn't bring it up, for now. Not when Kenzi's body language has gone uncharacteristically vulnerable like that.
"Nothing like having big scary friends, right?" He means it, too. Ned isn't used to the idea of big scary friends who have his back. It's a novelty, and an utterly wonderful one, to him. More seriously, he adds, "I'm glad she was there." Because a world with a hurt Kenzi or a murdered Kenzi is depressing to contemplate.
"She sounds awesome, what's her name?"
Not a word about the stealing. He'd heard her, and he's sure she saw him taking in the information, but he's not going to comment on it, unless she brings it up again.