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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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.

"I don't think anyone got hurt. Just frightened," Ned is quick to add. Charlie is frowning up a storm and it seems to Ned that it can't just be about the lighthouse being broken and possibly haunted. He's been through a lot these last few days, as they all have. First, Meyer being mauled by the tiger, then the nightmares, now this. Even if he's not a control freak like Meyer, Ned can't imagine it's a terribly comfortable position to be in.

He crosses his arms. This talk of how dangerous things are in this place has reminded him of a question he'd been meaning to ask. "Listen, is Meyer healing okay? I would ask him, but I don't tink he'd appreciate that very much. Seems like he wants to pretend he's invincible."

This makes Charlie pause in his frowning, and actually laugh. A lot more genuinely than his usual grins half-veiled in threat.

"Yeah, he's always been fucking like that. Shoulda seen it when had to get his appendix out." He throws the last of his cigarette down onto the rocks, stamping it out. "He's alright. In less pain, I thinks, still can't move around that fast, drives him fucking nuts." Of course non of this is anything Meyer ever said to him. He's just known the guy long enough to be able to read him damn well.

It's gratifying to hear Charlie laugh, even if that hadn't been the intended effect of his question. That smile Charlie gets when he's talking about how stubborn Meyer is makes so much more sense to Ned, now. Whatever the two of them have may be complicated (and is, Ned can infer), but there's an affection there that he's starting to recognize.

"I can imagine," he says. He's glad to know that Meyer is healing well, is in less pain than he was - particularly since he's so inclined to hide when he is. "I know it's not my place, but you might want to make sure he sees Bruce again one of these days, to check nothing's infected. I doubt he'll go on his own, and it's important." Ned doesn't remember how much people knew about infections and germs and things in the 1920s. Better safe than sorry.

Charlie nods in agreement. "I'll make sure he does."

There is something nice about not having to hide that affection in his voice, the way he smiles when he talks about Meyer. It's such a default state of being for him, to scowl and make cracks and try not to look like he gives a shit about anything, or anyone. He's getting s sense of how things are different in Ned's future, and it's fascinating just as much as it's fucking terrifying.

"So, people still get married in your future?" He'd be very surprised if they did.

Ned's not really sure where Charlie is going with this, but he's more than happy to answer, "Yes, they do, though divorce is more common than it was in your time. Why?"

This must have something to do with Charlie and Meyer; Ned can't imagine it's a complete non-sequitur. Perhaps Meyer mentioned that standards are different in the future, and Charlie wants to know more for himself.

"You're serious? I dunno, just figure it's getting old fashioned even by 1920." Apparently not. There goes that spark of progress he was looking for in his lifetime.

"Oh." That wasn't at all the answer he was expecting. It had never really occurred to him, that someone from Charlie's era would already be thinking that marriage was an outdated institution. "I should have said that it's also acceptable to live with someone without marrying them. To have kids and spend your life together without ever making it official. It's not... required in the same way. I mean, depending on who you ask, of course. And..." he hesitates now, not sure if he should proceed, but deciding to go for it, "It's different in some other ways, too. Men can marry other men, and women can marry women."

"Some people's been doing that. Ain't being so open about it, though." The not marrying and living together and having kids and all that. The second part gives him more pause. He wishes he still had his cigarette, so he could have something to do with his hands. He feels fidgety again all of a sudden and stuffs them in his pockets instead. "Yeah? That's something, ain't it."

"It's a pretty recent development," Ned says, which isn't really an agreement or a disagreement with Charlie's assessment. He seems... perturbed. Ned doesn't look at Charlie, though he sees his twitchiness out of the corner of his eye. He's just going to go on and pretend he doesn't notice, because that seems the only polite thing. It's what he would want, if the tables were turned.

"Anything else you'd like to know? About the future or... anything?" It's a fairly open offer, but Ned can always refuse to answer if Charlie asks him anything too intimate. Meyer had been brimming with questions, and Ned thinks he understands a little bit. He's grilled Daneel plenty about marriage and morals and mores in the future.

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