kore_logs | [open] a friend in need's a friend indeed

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[open] a friend in need's a friend indeed

Who: Ned and OPEN
What: Random encounters & fallout from dream-walking tomfoolery
Where: House 20, the garden, anywhere around town
When: Day 89

It's been a long week. A long, mostly-sleepless, weird week during which Ned has seen far more of his friends' and neighbors' subconsciouses than he would have liked to. Plus, a creepy city made of crystals that everyone seems to have seen, but no one will claim as their own. Shady stuff. Today, he is determined to wear himself out. Perhaps if he's tired enough, whatever mojo the men behind the curtain have put on him won't be strong enough to stir him out of a deep and dreamless sleep.

It's probably a futile tactic, but he can't just do nothing.

So he is a bustle of activity - cleaning the house, walking around town, checking on the crops to see if they are holding up well (carefully, with an eye for any enterprising tigers roaming too close to the edge of the forest), keeping an eye out for new faces and an ear out for rumors of missing ones.

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Charlie kept his promise and didn't go over to Ned's house right away. He did what Meyer said, waited until tempers had cooled a little. All the same, that fear and anger is still twisting in his gut and consequently the smile on Charlie's face as he knocks on the door is airing more on the side of predatory than friendly.

"This ain't a bad time, is it? I was hoping we could haves a chat."

Ned is mid-clean when Charlie shows up, complete with bright yellow gloves and apron, a damp washcloth cluthed in one hand, his hair slightly disarrayed. He can tell that something is up right away. Charlie doesn't seem the type who would need to justify his presence, if this were merely a social call. Plus, the words 'we need to have a talk' and all variants thereupon are never a good sign.

So he steps aside and lets Charlie in, a frown of concern on his face. There are any number of things Charlie could need to have a chat with him about. Could it be as simple as the dream of his that Ned had stumbled his way into? Or is this something to do with watching over Meyer while he's injured? Or could it be in reference to what he'd recently learned about those two.

"Please, have a seat," he gestures at the couch, but makes no move to sit down himself.

"Thanks," He takes a seat, a bit awkwardly. This would be so much fucking easier if he was just threatening him. He's insane good at cornering someone on their way home and giving them a good scare. This... he has no frame of reference for.

No point beating around the bush, anyway.

"Meyer told me abouts what yous found out."

Apparently they are done with hello, skipping right past how are you and right on to the discussion of deep dark secrets. Ned is fine with that, though it does leave him wrong-footed for a few seconds.

He glances around, confirming that he doesn't hear any of his housemates wandering around where they might overhear them. It isn't his own paranoia - Ned knows for sure that most of them couldn't care less what Charlie and Meyer get up to in the privacy of their own home. All the same, Meyer had been so frightened at the idea that anyone would know, and Ned had hated seeing him like that.

"Why don't we talk about this somewhere else," he suggests firmly, eyebrows raising, "There's my room, or we could go for a walk on the beach." Somewhere with a door that closes, or where they would see people coming from any direction.

Charlie gets up again, glad to not have to pretend he isn't crawling out of his skin right now.

"Yeah. Let's walk."

Ned nods, pulling off his gloves and untying the apron, darting into the kitchen to set those things down and take a moment to let out a single slow breath, bracing himself for the conversation to follow.

He rejoins Charlie, hands deep in his pockets, leads the way out the door. Once they are a few feet away from the house and he sees that they are alone without anyone in hearing distance he says, picking right up where they'd left off, "Did he also mention that I promised not to tell anyone?"

"Yeah, he did. Seemed to think yous was real fucking sincere about it, too." Ned will probably be able to tell that Charlie is not entirely sold on this concept himself. Dammit, wait, Meyer told him to be friendly. Fuck, he's fucking this up. Changing tactics.

"But I figures he knows yous a lot better than I do."

"I was sincere. I am," Ned says, firm but not confrontational. Charlie's stress is even more apparent to him than Meyer's had been, though thankfully he doesn't look like he's going to be sick any time soon. It's there, though, in the fretful movements of his hands, in how quickly he's walking, in the snap of anger in his voice.

The lighthouse is looming closer and Ned rubs a hand across the back of his neck, hating this situation. He wants to just be happy for Meyer and Charlie, to talk and gossip and be a good friend to both of them. He understands where they are coming from on this issue, though, even if it isn't a part of his own experience.

He's glad to hear that Meyer, at least, is convinced (at least partially) of his sincerity, but now he needs to do the same with Charlie, too. Chewing on his bottom lip, Ned draws a steadying breath, asks, "What can I do to convince you?"

"Don't know yet." He brought his cigarettes with him. He only has a few left and he's been carefully rationing them, but he knew this was going to be one of the times he'd need one desperately. The ritual of it is calming - getting it out and sticking it in the corner of his mouth to light. Plus, it gives him something to do with his hands.

"Yous was in one of my dreams, weren't you? You were that kid. I knew it was yous."

Ned doesn't know if it's what made the difference with Meyer, but he stares down at his hands as he says, "I can make the same promise to you that I made to him. I swore on my mother's grave that I wouldn't say anything." Despite the repetition, the words have the same weight that they did the first time. If there is one vow Ned is not about to break, that is it. It's the strongest he can offer: stronger than swearing by God, on a Bible, on his soul, on anything.

Now that he's shored up his intentions, he gives a reassurance of his capability: "I'm good at keeping secrets, Charlie. You don't have to worry that I'll make a mistake."

"Yeah. The- prison cell, right?" He hadn't known whether to bring it up or not. "You gave me a cigarette." The gesture makes more sense to his waking mind, and he can understand it as a kindness in a way that he couldn't while he was still dreaming.

Charlie's dream had been far less harrowing and intimate than some of the others he'd shared, but it was still full of a certain amount of private information. "Sorry about that."

Charlie shrugs, and takes a deep drag on his cigarette. As far as he's concerned, that wasn't exactly a huge secret. Everyone he works with back home knows he did time. Maybe they don't know the extent to which he got his ass handed to him in there, that Ned's know privy to.

"You was kinda a weird kid." He's stalling for time, and he knows it, and he knows that Ned knows it, but he doesn't have a better idea at the moment. He knows what he wants to ask, but is still working in his mind how to phrase it. Oh fuck this shit, he's never been good at the diplomatic stuff. Time to just out with it.

"Meyer reckons you're trustworthy, since you're in a similar situation. So it's true you got some guy you're fucking?"

He's relieved to see that Charlie doesn't seem to mind too much that he'd stumbled his way into his dream. Far less than Meyer had minded, but he'd seen far less, and Meyer struck him as much more of a control-freak in general.

What Charlie says about him being a weird kid earns a little smile from him, a touch rueful around the edges. Still, there's something refreshing about him just coming out and saying it. Ned knows that everyone who met him at that age thought it, and his peers didn't mind announcing it without any mincing of words, but adults and authority figures had always been different. They cloaked their discomfort with his affect and behavior in technical terms, euphemisms, implications. "So they told me," he says, not denying it.

The question about his own love life prompts a small flush to rise to Ned's cheeks, but he doesn't hesitate to answer. "I wouldn't describe it in quite that way, but yes, I do."

"Yeah? Hows are you describing it, then?" Okay, so maybe he's deflecting. But he's interested in hearing this from Ned himself. And look, he likes talking about this sort of thing, so sue him. Even other people's love lives tends to be a highly entertaining topic, and Meyer's always been dead boring at it.

Ned hesitates, glances over at Charlie, determines that he really is asking rather than teasing or... having some other kind of agenda. He, too, is more than happy to talk about this kind of thing - endlessly, if his interlocutor will allow it. His head falls forward and he bites his lower lip for a second, searching for the perfect phrase. How to summarize it?

"I'd say I've got some guy I've fallen in love with," Ned amends Charlie's earlier phrase, repeating its structure, "which includes but is certainly not limited to a certain amount of-" but he's not exactly about to say fucking, so he substitutes in a vague hand gesture to imply it.

The look of Charlies face is vaguely disbelieving. You are so fucking precious, Ned, he might have to throw up in his mouth a little.

"Good for you," He takes a drag of his cigarette, "I know this guy?"

"Possibly? His name's Daneel. About my height, pretty pale, sort of reddish bronze hair, very serious expression." The fondness in his tone of voice would have given away his infatuation, even if he hadn't just admitted to it. After last night, he's in a particularly giddy mood in regards to Daneel, and discussing all this seems to be setting Charlie more at his ease, dispelling a little of that restless, angry fear that had been gripping him when they started this conversation.

"You've probably seen him coming and going from the house, at least." They do live right across from one another, after all.

"Yeah, maybe." Charlie is not the most spectacularly observant person ever, especially in this place.

But Ned gave him something honest there, and Charlie figures the smart thing to do would be to give one back. That's how being friendly works, right? He takes a moment with cigarette, watching the glowing tip as he brings it to his mouth, stalling for a little longer.

"Hows I sees it, back in our day or whatever. Fuck, that makes me sound like fucking eighty, don't it? Fuck it," another drag of smoke, blowing it out through his nose, "Love ain't anything you get with anther guy, y'know? You have a quick fuck and asking for anything more'n that is being a fucking idiot."

Hopefully Ned picks up on the implication that his... thing with Meyer ain't exactly been the first time he's gone down this road.

Ned looks sidelong at Charlie, marveling for perhaps the thousandth time at just how different he is to Meyer. There's still a certain amount of discomfort in discussing this topic, true, but Charlie seems willing but merely unaccustomed to it - as if he's never had the opportunity before, which wouldn't surprise Ned. Meyer, on the other hand, seemed to genuinely abhor it, even with a willing friend to speak to.

When he'd told Meyer he was in love with Daneel, Meyer asked how he knew, whether it could possibly be reciprocated. That said something about him, in the same way that the slant that Charlie puts on this says something about him. From the sound of it, Meyer isn't the first man that Charlie's been sexually involved with. But what about romantically? He did say asking for anything more, not wanting anything more.

"I know. Not intimately, of course, I can't, because I never lived when you lived, but I get it. I imagine in that climate any kind of sustained relationship would be... complicated. Enormously."

And what he has with Meyer is clearly not just a quick fuck. They've been friends since childhood. They live together, work together. They are quite literally partners in crime.

Edited 2013-07-07 14:23 (UTC)

He knows it's an odd situation him and Meyer live in. They were already far too entangled before the sex happened to ever break it off over a small thing like that. The best way Charlie can qualify it for himself is that they're business partners, who occasionally fuck. The fact that they live together, work together, more often than not share the same bed... these are factors he sort of pushes to the side. No need to make things more complicated than they are. It works for them.

'Relationships' are what you have with broads. Or at least, other people do. Charlie's seen them and they don't look very appealing, but he gets it. Sort of.

More smoking now. Clear his head.

"Probably noticed Meyer gets real fucking edgy about this shit, huh?"

Edited 2013-07-07 14:47 (UTC)

"Alarmingly so," Ned concurs, though the alarm in question is on Meyer's behalf. He's never liked making other people uncomfortable for whatever reason - and particularly not people he considers to be his friends. Whether Charlie is referring to same-sex romantic involvement, or relationships, or emotions generally when he says 'this shit', the answer remains the same. Far more edgy than he got about subjects which, to Ned, seemed much more volatile.

"You don't seem quite as edgy, if you don't mind my saying." It's just an observation and he hopes Charlie won't take it the wrong way. None of this seems easy and simple to Charlie, but there is that difference.

"Yeah, I don't got a fucking bug up my ass is what." What's a little affectionate name-calling between friends, right? "Meyer don't like when things ain't in his control."

Here is pauses, and fixes Ned with a strong stare. This is the closest he promised Meyer he'd get to a threat today, so pay attention, Ned.

"I gets the feeling things are getting too far out of control, I come in to deals with it. Right?"

Yes, Ned can hear the affection in that name-calling. It's not the sort of thing he could really get away with, with Daneel - he's far too literal-minded to understand that sort of thing - but he recognizes it for what it is. What Charlie says about Meyer being a control freak just confirms what Ned has observed in him thus far, and Charlie ought to know.

Interesting, how quickly Charlie progresses from Meyer's need for control, back to the situation the three of them find themselves in (in which Meyer's control is limited), and on to his not-so-veiled threat. Of course, Charlie is a product of the same culture that Meyer is; he must think there is danger to himself, to both of them. But to Ned, it seems that the main impulse behind the threat is fear for Meyer, wanting to protect him, to guard him.

He would find it touching, really, if it weren't for that sudden spark of terror deep in his chest when Charlie looks at him like that. Ned's not afraid of Charlie anymore: not regularly, anyway. Hard to maintain that kind of attitude when he's seen Charlie falling asleep like an overtired toddler, when he's seen him drunk and convivial, when he's seen him a scrawny teenager, in Meyer's mind. All the same, there is a shard of the fear in Ned - bright and sharp-edged - that remains a few inches underneath the surface, easily unburied.

So Ned pales at Charlie's threat, nonspecific though it might be, swallows because his mouth has suddenly gone dry. "Right," he echoes.

Charlie grins, maybe a bit of edge to it, and gestures with his cigarette.

"See? I figured you and me would understands each other." There, take that Meyer. He can be subtle. Ish.

They're near the lighthouse now, and Charlie peers up at it, trying to see the light at the top.

"That thing work?"

Ned nods. He understands quite well. He thinks of that last dream of Meyer's, with the four of them on their knees being shot one by one. Threats of violence are the currency that the two of them are accustomed to. Ned has lived under the shadow of potential violence for two decades, but it's a very different kind of violence and a very different kind of threat: nowhere near as present, as concrete, as pervasive.

He's only half-listening when Charlie asks about the lighthouse, and he shrugs, "I've never seen the light on at night, so probably not. Apparently it's haunted, or at least made to seem like it's haunted. Daneel told me there have been incidents." Ned doesn't believe in ghosts, not really, but there are ways to fake such things, and anything is possible in this place.

"Incidents? Like that ain't fucking ominous, huh?" Really, sometimes this place just looses points for subtly. His cigarette is nearly done, which makes his scowl. Dammit, he was hoping to make it last the whole conversation.

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