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Nevy's apartment is... not in the worst area of town, but it's definitely a low-rent neighborhood. The buzzer for her door, works, though, and the time they'd agreed upon is nigh.
And so, ecce homo. Mearcstapa's dressed in a t-shirt and hoodie with cargo pants and his usual messenger bag. His hair is bobby-pinned out of his face, and his expression is nervous as he pushes the buzzer.
“Hello?” The response Isn’t quick enough that Nevy was probably waiting by the intercom at all, no.
What a silly idea.
"Hey, babybat. It's me." Falling back on old familiar names like they might signpost his hopes here, that everything might someday be okay.
“Two-face?” A curtain twitches in one of the windows, then the door buzzes open. There’s a sound of footsteps on the stairs as he enters, too.
He enters the building, wiping his feet on the threadbare rug in the entryway, and awaits further direction from Nevermore.
She pauses at the top of the first landing, looking at him with an expression of many many strong and mixed emotions. She forgot her coat upstairs, and without it she seems much less larger-than-life than her usual persona. “Hey,” she says with a strained smile.
"Hey." He looks up at her, his own expression...lacking. Like he's sort of forgotten to animate his face muscles. "You wanted to talk?"
The lack of response causes her smile to flicker into something sadder, and there’s a burst of fearful Glamour into the air. “Yeah, I... I figured that would be... good. Do you... would you like to come up?”
"Please?" He nods and starts climbing the stairs up toward her. "Better than trying to have this talk right here."
She nods and leads the way. “It’s the third floor, I’m sorry to say. Getting all the exercise going up and down these stairs, you’d think I’d lose some weight...” she’s babbling, a bit, trying to keep things normalish by talking about banal subjects, but her voice is high and tight, her movements jerky.
The apartment door is ajar when they get there. She leads him into a small one-bedroom apartment. Half the living room is set up as an art studio, and the tiny cupboard kitchen has a little table nearby that she goes to sit at. Posters for classic horror films line the walls.
“Would you like some, uh, coffee? Or... something?”
He quietly looks around the room, then at her. "I feel like I'm seeing the inside of your head, being here. Uh, coffee's not necessary unless you feel it's important as an expression of hospitality, here."
She chuckles slightly. “Don’t be silly,” they say. “There aren’t nearly enough bats in here for that,”.
She steps toward him, then stops, her expression mixed hope , fear, and regret.
He watches her for a moment, then slowly opens his arms out, like he's not sure she's going to accept a hug, but he really, really wants one right now.
She just about jumps into the hug. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I...”. She takes a shaky breath. “I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”
He wraps his arms around her close and strong, and doesn't say anything for a long moment, just...just holding on like a storm's battering with gale-force winds and she's a flagpole.
She certainly don’t seem inclined to stop the hug first. After what might well be several minutes, though, she says, “Thank you for the playlist,” in a suspiciously damp voice. “It was... um...”
"Yeah. Maybe a bit of a bludgeon. I'm...sorry." His words come out as a raspy little whisper, and there might be a wet spot against her cheek or the side of her head.
“What?” She pulls back just far enough to look at him. “No! No, that was... it was what I needed. I... I think I understand why you didn’t want to talk about it.”
"Because...what sets me apart isn't that I can do something special, like you can. It's that I am something." He's never really been good with eye contact. The fact that he's very deliberately forcing himself to do it now is pretty serious.
She nods, meets his eyes for just a moment, then intentionally averts hers, offering implicit permission not to meet hers. "I'm not... I didn't ask you here to try to pump you for more information. I just... wanted to see if you're okay."
"I'm always fine, babybat." He shakes his head, which kinda is the opposite of what his words are saying, isn't it?
They wince and hug him again. "I'm sorry," they say once more.
"You didn't know. You thought I was just...holding out to hold out. Oh, Nevermore, the world's a weird fucking mess. I know I can't actually keep you from it all. But I don't want you to go through even a tenth of the pain I've experienced." He brushes his lips against her forehead. "'There are witches in the woods.' And worse and more wonderful things, too. We...could try to talk about some of it, but there's a reason phrases like 'the kindly ones' and 'the good neighbors' exist. You know? I don't want to call any attention to you. You're too dear to me."
Nevermore nods. "I'm... going to look into some horseshoes, for the doors and windows. It... can't hurt, right?"
"No, it can't hurt--though it'll mean I need to be careful. If it were to fall on me from above the door, it would do grievous bodily harm. The same for some of my friends." He glances at the doorway, then back toward her. "But if it will make you feel safer, I'll just be extra careful not to slam doors in here."
She raises her eyebrows. "Oh. I'll... maybe I can nail them in. The security deposit wasn't that much...
"I know you didn't ask me here to pump me for information, but...what would you need to know, to feel at ease with me, again?"
She lets out a breath. "I..... what do I need to know? In order to... put as little of my foot in my mouth as possible?"
"Well, before, I would have said 'nothing', but that clearly had its pitfalls. And I can't blame you for curiosity, given how nosy I've been with some of the other local...uh, communities, myself." There's a bit of self-mocking humor there.
She nods, smiling lopsidedly. "That reminds me. Lethia... told me a bit about herself, too."
"Yeah? How much has she told you? Just so I can be sure I'm not going to expose more of her than you know, already." He tilts his head to one side.
"That she's a vampire, that she doesn't kill people, that... there's part of them that's... like an animal, and if it gets too powerful, they... can't come back from it, and other vampires kill them."
He lets out this big world-weary sigh.
"Yes. Lethia's a vampire. And therefore dangerous, but she's also always been good to me. I actually owe her a favor or two, still. But...if she's decided she's going to be a friend to you, cherish that. She's polite to those who're polite to her, from everything I've seen. She's not the only vampire you've met, among those who know me, either. But I'm not going to say more, because it would be a dick move for me to spell out other people's secrets." Just imply them pretty directly.
Nevy nods. "All right. I've... been figuring this isn't stuff I should spread around."
"No, you really shouldn't, for a multitude of reasons. That can get you killed, or worse."
Nevy nods. "I'd... rather not learn 'what 'worse' means here." She sighs. "I... really am sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you like that, and I shouldn't have gone behind your back."
"I forgive you. I'd probably have done the same, in your position, if I were human still." He quietly reaches out, taking one of her hands.
She squeezes it. "So... the iron thing is real enough to help?"
"Yes, for you. I can't so much as touch it without being Badly Hurt. So, iron jewelry would be a risky choice. Iron nails in a baggie that you could pull out? Maybe."
Nevy nods. "So, no cast iron bat necklace."
"Right. That would make for very bad hugs." He nods. "Though...hand-forged would be better than cast, for the purpose in question."
They nod. "Hand-forged?"
"Cold iron, never worked by a machine." He shrugs. "Scholars debate why, some old promise made or something intrinsic to iron itself. It's really not the point."
Nevy nods, looking thoughtful. "Are... are there many of you?"
"Mmh." He pauses to think before answering. "More than there should be. I'm not going to get into numbers, but...there's enough that I don't feel alone, locally. And I know you do, and for that, I'm sorry. But I'd rather you be lonely as you are, than familiar with our situation as a group."
Nevy nods. "I get that. I do. And I'm... not about to go out and... dance in a mushroom circle or anything like that."
"Good." He glances around the apartment briefly. "Got a spot to sit? And any chance I could interest you in a cuddle, while we talk?"
"Shit! Right. Yes." She bustles over to the couch (which is incongruously floral patterned and so overstuffed that the pair feel like they're going to sink to their ears in the cushions.
He follows her, and all but flops into the overstuffed mess. "This is hideous, I think I love it."
She grins. "I saw it at the Goodwill, and I couldn't resist it." Cuddle Begins
He lightly pulls her in to lean against him, and runs his fingers through her hair. "I'm more comfortable, generally speaking, with questions about me individually, than about the bigger picture or any groups I may belong to. If that helps direct the conversation."
She nods, wrapping an arm around him. "So, Is... this why you got into security?"
"Yes, this is why I got into security. Because I don't have any sense of true safety or security in my own life, and I wish to ensure that others do, for as long as possible." He doesn't sound too glum about it, even if the words are, themselves, pretty bleak.
She blinks at him. "You don't... God. That's..." She lets out her breath. "I'm really sorry to hear that."
"You don't have to keep apologizing, Nev. It's just what my life is. I don't...in some ways, it's a really good life. I have friends, I have my partners, technology is amazing these days, I've had opportunities to build my life that really make it hard to hate everything about my nature."
"No, I know, it's just... it sounds really hard. Never feeling safe."
"It...is hard." He shrugs. "I deal with it, though, well enough, I guess."
She hugs him closer. "Can I help at all?"
"Maybe. It's...there's a way you can help, but I need to think about, um. If I'm ready to lean on you, in that manner. Risk-reward, you know? It's not a function of trust, so much as an analysis of if I'm ready to put you in that situation with me."
She raises her eyebrows. "What would I have to do?"
"I'm not ready to discuss that yet." There's a tone of finality there.
She pulls back a bit to look at him - not quite a glare, yet. "And why is that?"
"Because I've made mistakes recently that have exposed others to the risk of my making hasty decisions, and they've suffered for it, and I'm not looking to re-create that situation." He looks down at his lap, not at her.
She puffs out their breath. "Do I get any say in that?"
"No, you don't get any say in whether I make hasty decisions."
"That's not what I mean, and you know it," Nevy says.
"I do know it." He shakes his head. "I keep screwing up with you. I'm sorry. I'm torn between my need to keep you safe, and the perceived barrier I keep building between me and you, my friend."
"Do you know what would help me feel safe?" She says, looking at his earlobe. "Being able to make informed choices on how to help my friends."
"Do you want to make a promise with me, such that if you keep it, I will be safer, but if you break it, it'll likely lead to you ending up all the way out in the Hundred Acre Woods, because a broken promise is like chum to those sharks? That's what we're looking at." His tone of voice is sharp and serious.
She blinks and looks thoughtful at that. "What kind of promise?"
"Nevermore. Please stop. I've had someone break a sworn promise to me, recently. I'm still dealing with the aftershocks, even though it wasn't the same sort of situation. Please." He pinches the bridge of his nose.
Nevermore looks him over, then nods. "Okay," She says. "That sort of thing... we'd both need to agree. So if you're not ready, I understand." She hugs him a little closer. "But... if you do get to the point where you're ready... I'd want to know more about what I'd need to do."
"The other part of it is, to make that sort of promise with you, I'd have to let you see the other side of this 'Two-Face'. The nickname you chose is...apt for any of us, in a way." He tenses slightly as he says this.
They blink at him. "I... don't understand."
He waves a hand in front of his face. "What you see when you look at me is...well, it's not a lie, quite, it's what the version of me that never got a chance to grow up human might have ended up looking like, I suppose."
She thinks that over, then looks surprised. "So... you don't actually look like Percy Weasley's cousin who decided to go into the tech industry?"
He barks out a startled laugh at that comparison. "No, no I don't."
"Oh." She thinks that over. "So... what do you look like?"
"Mm. One of my partners called me a photo-negative of myself. Which isn't quite accurate, but I accept it."
"Oh." They think that over again. "I... wouldn't mind seeing that."
He thinks for a moment. "I'm not sure, yet, how I'd feel about you seeing it."
She nods. "Okay. If you're not comfortable, that's all right."
"I don't know if I'm uncomfortable. Nervous?" He adjusts his cuddle position slightly, and takes her hand again, interweaving fingers with hers.
She squeezes the hand and side-eyes him. "Do you think I'd stop being your friend because you looked like a photo-negative or something?"
She sounds teasing, now, rather than upset.
"No, not that you'd stop being my friend. That's not it."
She squeezes again. "Then what?" They say gently.
"Maybe you'd think I'm scary. Or strange. Or perhaps worse, fascinating."
She smiles at that. "I mean... I kind of already thought you were all three, even when I thought you were just some guy?"
"Scary? Me?" He blinks rapidly, surprised. "What made you think that?"
Surely not the Autumn Mantle
"Two-f..." she hesitates. "Am I still okay to call you that?"
"If you want to, babybat." He manages a smile for her.
She nods. "Two-face... if you wanted to, you could break in... pretty much anywhere. That's... there's a lot you could do, if you were the kind of person who'd do it."
He seems to be doing alright--there's the tiniest flinch at that comment, that turns into a laugh. "I mean, isn't that true of everyone in one way or another? Every person out there could find a way to destroy you."
They put up an affronted front. "Not everyone. There's a six-year-old back in Chicago I'm pretty sure I could take."
"I wasn't necessarily talking about you personally. All of us, all of this, all of society is predicated on the choice to attempt to cooperate. It's true for humans, for us, for vampires."
Nevermore nods. “And you have. That’s why you’re the good kind of scary. You can do scary things... but you haven’t been doing them for scary reasons.”
There's a pause, perhaps a moment too long. "Thank you, Nevermore."
Well. Now there's a bit of guilt going on, like maybe he has done some scary things lately.
She looks at his expression (not lingering too long, because eye contact). "Do you need to talk about it?" She says. "I mean... I know you said you couldn't talk about everything, and I'm not going to push if you say you can't. But... if you can, you can." Another squeeze of the hand.
"I really can't, except to say that if you knew everything I've done lately, you might say some of it was for scary reasons. Though not without purpose."
She takes a wild guess. "Does it have to do with the jar of ashes you had in your bag a few days ago?"
"Ah. Mh. Yeah." He sighs.
She nods. "I... think I've done enough pushing at you. You don't have to tell me any more. But if you think you had a good reason? I trust you."
"Thank you for that trust, Nevy. I won't abuse it. I think I might head home, though, if that's alright with you."
She nods. "Thank you. This... really meant a lot." She stand along with him and give him another hug. "If there's anything I can do to help you, ever, please let me know. Okay?"
"I will." He squeezes her one last time, really, really tight before standing. "Be safe out there?"
She strikes one of her melodramatic poses. "Of course!"
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