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The park is a small neighborhood park, a playground with a tire swing as advertised and a really nice set of monkey bars and a picnic bench, and there's a nearby streetlamp so even at this late hour, there's still sufficient light to see by. When Glitch arrives, Mearc's sitting on the top of the tallest slide (a yellow tube slide), knees pulled to his chest, his messenger bag sitting on the ground below him by about five feet.
Glitch takes a while to arrive, but eventually he shows up, nonchalantly walking along with his chin pointed towards the ground and a white plastic bag full of steaming takeout food dangling from his wrist. He looks up at the Lost sitting on the slide and arches a brow, holding up his order. "Delivery for...Mirror Stopping? Marco's Papa?"
"March Stalker, that's me." He slips off the side of the slide, landing gracefully (albeit right on top of his bag). "Thanks. Do you want to take this over to the picnic table or huddle under the jungle gym to eat? Both options are totally valid."
He snorts at the reply, then watches Mearc stomp on his belongings, arching a brow in concern. "Table's fine. I'll crouch when there's nothing else around. Just glad you didn't want me to eat up on the slide," he beeps out. He hauls the food over to the table and sets the containers out: Pad Thai, panang curry, white and brown rice, and a small bundle of beef satay on wooden skewers. "I have someone who's interested in guard duty, if you're not full up."
"Oh yeah? Who?" He moves to the table as well, taking a seat and checking the bag to see if there's forks or chopsticks in it, before claiming a stick of meat to gnaw on first. "I am taking recommendations."
The bag has plastic forks and wooden chopsticks, napkins and some packets of soy sauce and sriracha. Glitch hands a scrap of paper with a phone number on it over to Mearc before plucking up a beef skewer, taking a single bite and chewing while talking. "Nathania Winters. Her and I go back. One of the best Winters I know." If that's a joke, it's done totally deadpan. "I told you that standing still and keeping calm wasn't what I'm good at. She's the best at it."
"Mmm. Winter. Okay, noted. Can she fight?" Mearc's freckles shift color somewhat, turning greener as he glances at the phone number and then pockets it.
Glitch makes a frown, and hesitantly raises a hand to wriggle it a bit. "I mean, yeah. It's not her thing, but...it's been like three years, but even back then she could defend herself okay. She said she uses guns now. No idea what other tricks she has up her sleeve. You know...Winters." He stares at the Pad Thai and asks, "You having any of this or can I just eat out of the container?"
"Feel free to eat it out of the container, but I don't promise not to steal any of it, if I'm feeling particularly impish." He sets himself up with the panang curry--it's literally the least spicy thing possible that could still be called a 'curry', the sauce white with coconut milk, and smelling like lemongrass. "As for 'you know, Winters', that's sort of the crux of the matter, right now. I've been instructed to be cautious with my Winters, not let any of them stand watch alone."
"It's not stealing, you fucking paid for it and we're sharing it," Glitch beeps with a mouthful of noodles, having already scooped some into his face before hearing Mearc's reply. "Well no shit. I'm assuming you have a few people on it at once, that's basic." He pauses and blinks. "I don't actually know what you're guarding."
"Good, then operational security is doing its job." He smirks, adding some of the white rice to his curry. His mantle's grown since the last time Glitch saw him; there's now a creeping sensation of being watched, in addition to the audible rustle and rhythmic footfalls that were there before.
"But. A person in a clarity coma."
Glitch frowns at that. "Did Robin do that? Does she have a reason to go after them, or is it just making sure nobody's picked off?" He fishes his phone out of his pocket, tapping at it a few times. His own mantle is barely there, perhaps totally covered up by Mearc's own. "And if you can tell me without like, messing up security or any of that," he beeps, waving a hand...he knows there's rules, he's just seeing what he can get... "What actually went down with Lux? Some of the things I heard don't add up."
"I'm not sure how much I can tell you, but the fact that I was instructed to put this guard together by Lumi is something to extrapolate from. She thinks this is necessary effort." He gestures with his chopsticks. "As for Lux, I wasn't there when the attack happened, so I'm not a good source for accurate details, if there's pieces that don't make sense."
Glitch nods. "So Robin's a Helldiver. She can phase out. Go invisible and intangible, like a ghost, walk through walls. Right? Like Vorpal does. And she stabbed Lux in their room, while she was sleeping, and then disappeared...right?"
"As far as I've heard, that's accurate--however, Lux and Jack were running at that point, so I'm not sure how closely they had their eyes on her. Account for potential error, neither of them are trained for noticing things in that sort of situation." He looks thoughtful. "I feel like this is an Ace Attorney game and I'm just not seeing the contradiction."
He assumes that metaphor will land well.
Glitch smirks wryly at that last bit. "I only played two of those," he beeps. "Three. Didn't finish three. Bought four, never got to it. Modern stuff is my blind spot." But he's clearly familiar. He stuffs some more noodles in his mouth, wipes it with the back of his hand, and sits back. "You said Robin attacked Lux with an iron dagger. Did she leave it behind?"
His green freckles turn even brighter, the red ones almost completely invisible. "I don't know. Can you Helldive with iron? If not, there's a chance the dagger would still be at the apartment where Lux and Jack were sleeping. Unless she's gone back for it since. But if the dagger was dropped, someone could ask it a few pointed questions with the right Contract. No, wait, no. Iron."
Glitch nods. He nods, and gives something that could be a smile, but is a bit too dark to make it there. "No, you can't. You can't Hellldive with iron, you can't bless it, you can't curse it or ask it questions. Not with anything that comes from Us or our shitty kidnap-parents on the other side. I'm no investigator. But I know iron. It falls right through everything we take for granted."
He lifts one hand. "So everyone is assuming she helldives, appears in the bedroom, stabs the victim, and then disappears. But she can't get in or out that way with the knife. She'd have to walk in with it...and it'd still be there. If it's not..."
"If it's not, then she's visited that apartment again, and those who live there are likely properly boned. I mean, getting in, I can imagine being fairly simple--right? Lux and Jack are asleep, tickle a lock, creep to a bedside. Unless you've got another theory, Gumshoe." He sets his chopsticks down to steeple his fingers.
Glitch shrugs. "Why would she come back? Forget that...why would whoever checked the scene miss the knife? Why would Lux? If she disappeared in front of them, it would've fallen on the floor, right there. Made a real loud noise." The Sprite frowns, lowers his chin, and shakes his head before looking back up at Mearc. "The most likely explanation is...she isn't Helldiving. She did something else. Some other trick, or power, that let her disappear or teleport with iron in her hand."
"Okay, I don't like that theory, which means it's worth sitting with and poking at. I know that vampires have a power that similar in nature to Light-Shying. It makes the mind 'skip over' them. And it'd surprise me if there weren't a similar power that mages have access to. We're aware she might have an accomplice, and this is...very anti-Occam here, to work with the assumption that there's a member of another supernatural society who'd be working with a bridge-burner. But iron's nothing to them."
He thinks for a moment. "Other possibility, working off the theory of how the vampire thing works. What if she was...somehow making them not see her, instead of cloaking herself? Change of targets, something to affect them instead of herself?"
Glitch mulls over the proposed options, shaking his head a bit, one finger on his chin. "It's disappearing with the knife that's the whole problem. Mind control or illusions from Contracts wouldn't work on it either. She can do all sorts of things to get in or out, but if it's anything that worked on that knife...this shit just got real complicated."
"Vampires are definitely a possibility. Which, like... fuuuuuuck." He lets out a world-weary sigh. "I don't want to have to schedule another meeting with the Sakima for this..."
Glitch rolls his eyes, which behind his shades is more of a big eyebrow wave. "If they kept to themselves there wouldn't be problems. Just stick to underground goth raves. But there's always gotta be one that wants to go fuck around with people." He sighs. "There's like...you're the one that brought up Mages, right? I think I met one at the waffle house."
"I've only met one myself--Lux has a friend who's one, who helped with healing the iron wounds, and also is dating someone who just became one? Still, we're multiplying possibilities and that's not very Occam of us. Okay. So we need to consider how she got in and out. It's a valid concern, and something to keep an eye on. I don't know that we have the evidence to resolve that mystery right now, so stick it to the bulletin board and get the colored yarn ready for making a web."
His attention returns to the food, and he totally naps a noodle from the pad thai with his chopsticks, not bothering to be sneaky about it. "Actually. You know what? I can toss that question to the current emergency mom." After slurping the noodle down, he pulls out his phone to text.
Glitch nods, and then quirks a brow. "Who is the...current, emergency mom?"
"Sturm. I'm eight in the morning until eight at night. She's the other side of the clock. This means we both get time to sleep and take care of ourselves and try to stay sane." He sketches a circle in the air with his pointer finger, then mimes slicing it in half. "I like working with her."
He snorts. "Don't let Sturm find out you called her a mom, she'll probably take it as an excuse to punch you. But I'm glad she's pulling shift. She's all business. No bullshit. It's nice."
"She called herself emergency mom before I did." He grins broadly. "But I'd probably call myself 'emergency mom' if I took over for a bit on one of her shifts, just to see how she reacted to that."
Glitch looks genuinely surprised at that, but then smiles a bit more obviously. "You'd make a good emergency mom," he adds. Wiping his mouth on a napkin this time, he stands up. "Do you have to get back, or you have time to hang out a bit longer? We should talk about something that isn't this bullshit. I'm supposed to be getting your head out of it."
"I have time. I'm off duty, right now. So...I'm good to do stuff. Though I'm not drinking or anything, in case of emergency whatever. What do you wanna do?" He doesn't stand up yet, gathering up the trash and putting it back into the plastic bag to toss whenever they pass a trash can.
A moment's thought later, his freckles go a bit redder, the green dimming back to 'normal' levels. "Also, is there any chance I can like...lean against you for a bit? Or hug you? Or something? I have been...very stressed and trying to hold onto myself pretty hard and I need...just a little physical touch."
Glitch was quiet, apparently mulling over what he wants to do. He lifts his head and opens his mouth to speak right when Mearc adds that, and he ends up staring like that for a moment. For a few very tense seconds it's not clear how the Sprite will react. "That's direct," he beeps out. He raises his arms up on either side of him, looking a bit more like a come-at-me-bro stance than anything else, but the offer is clear. "I like direct."
He lets out a bit of a laugh. "To be clear, I'm not trying to flirt, I just...yeah." And then he steps into the offer of the hug. Like, given how strong Mearc is about boundaries and shit, the fact that he's actually quite a hugger is probably a surprise, but it's not some sheepish thing here. It's an actual squeeze.
Glitch lets out a high pitched, almost comical beep, rising in tone near the end like a question, when he's given that powerful squeeze. He's not lifted off the ground at least but he brings his arms up around Mearc and holds him close, and even rests his head against his. "It's cool. I know. It's just a hug. They help." He thinks of something, and then snorts again, managing a very rare stupid grin. "Don't worry, bro, no homo," he whispers.
Mearc lets out a snort. “Very homo, actually, generally speaking. Just not applying that at the moment.” This as he sort of melts into the hug.
"At the moment, huh," is all Glitch says, noting that quietly as Mearc melts against him. His clothes don't tingle as his skin and hair do, but the dry tingle of electricity greets Mearc where he touches Glitch's face and hands. The Sprite raises an arm to pat the back of Mearc's head and ruffle his hair, even. "There there. You're doing a good job. Keep it up." His flat and distorted voice doesn't quite match the cheery words, making him sound a bit like a call center menu message, but the sentiment is genuine. "I mean I gotta be honest with you, shit could still go real bad real fast, but you're doing what you fuckin' can, right?"
"I am doing everything I can." He sighs, and...kinda turns his face in to brush against Glitch's neck. "You feel like licking a CRT screen that's been powered for a while. That's awesome."
"Um," the Sprite says, going a bit pink in the cheeks at either the nuzzle against his neck or the words. He rears up on his toes just a bit, and his eyes shift to the side. "You're the first person I can remember who even knows what that is," he says with appreciation. His eyes lid slightly, and he rolls his head back, trying to just enjoy the hug. "But you, uh, didn't lick me."
"Do you want me to lick you?" The question comes with an undertone of actual confusion. "When I was a kid, I used to lick the TV, because it was tingly. I was a weird kid, Glitch. And there weren't these plasma screens, back then."
"Ummm," Glitch responds again, and he turns his head to the side as his cheeks bloom bright pink, his normal blush almost matching Mearc's freckles. And then Mearc keeps talking, which is a good excuse to respond to that and be good. There's an almost comical slow pat given to Mearc's back. "I know. I mean...I used to just touch the screen with my hand. Are we from the same time...?"
"Probably, roughly." He separates from Glitch slightly, looking at that bright blush, and his own freckles redden. "Sorry. Um. I was taken in 1981. Which is part of why I haven't really gone back to see where my family is; my older sister would be in her sixties now; she last saw me when I was sixteen."
He watches Mearc's face redden, and the two boys just stare at each other a while. Glitch takes a moment to truly study the other Lost's mien, the lights and colors. Mearc can see the finer details of his as well, the little bits of garbled characters and fragmented shapes scrambling around the edges of his face here and there, on his chin one moment, on his forehead the next: Mearc would recognize the signs of game corruption, of a cartridge whose contacts do not fully bridge. "I...didn't look back either." He raises a hand to brush a tingling finger against the side of Mearc's cheek, and then blushes a bit more, eyes widening. "Sorry, I just, automatically..."
Mearc lightly grabs Glitch's wrist and it's really hard to tell if he's making eye contact, because his eyes are like deep void holes, but he's clearly turned toward Glitch's face and focusing more clearly--and there's a flare of his mantle as well, that eye-on-the-back-of-your-neck thing intensifying. "Ask first."
Glitch doesn't startle. He goes very still, and very calm, and doesn't seem flustered by the pitch black eyes. "Yes," he says, keeping his gaze the whole time. "I'm sorry," he adds, dipping his chin just slightly. It's a tense moment, and he doesn't shy away, but he capitulates immediately.
Mearc lets go, and breaks the eye contact, the green coming back into his mien rather suddenly, until he's roughly at his usual color balance, but a bit brighter than usual. "It's alright. Going back to our previous conversation...what year were you taken?"
Glitch looks a bit unsure if he should step back or not, and his eyes go to Mearc for hints. "I...not sure about the exact year. I was...born around when you were taken. Mine got me when I was in my teens. Like, early 90s..."
Mearc resolves the matter by being the one to step back. "Huh. Which means you grew up with slightly more advanced tech. But still got taken before Pokemon."
Glitch matches him and takes a few steps back too, hands in his pockets. "Like I said, the dates...and what I remember...are fuzzy. It doesn't all match up. I think I remember Pokemon. I had a Game Boy. Didn't play Color til I came back..." He frowns, trying to recall himself, and fishing around in his pockket for something. "I remember the night it happened. Couldn't tell you the fucking year. Could tell you what mom was wearing," he says, with another snort.
"I don't remember everything about that night. But what I do remember, um. I don't talk about much. Tell the wrong person and they might go 'that wasn't a real thing' and that's a potential crack to the clarity, you know?" He shakes his head. "I thought about it, lately, when there were coded messages on Radio Free Fae, though."
Glitch rubs at his face. "Fuck, I remember those. Were they hex codes?" The talk of the codes on the radio perks him up. "I should've been on that. I got distracted, and then all the shit with Sturm was happening, and Teagan and Sig were...anyway. I should've been on that. But...what's that got to do with you?"
"The one was binary, the other was hex. But I heard two-character bits and tried to treat it as a Polybius cipher instead. It took me a very long time to get to hex. It's like when you have those pathways in your head that pull your mind in a given direction first, always. A rogue synapse." He glances toward Glitch, knowing if anyone would catch those references...
Glitch gives Mearc his reaction immediately, eyes going wide and then narrowing a bit before he's even finished talking. "A what cipher?" he asks, his posture immediately more tense.
"You heard me." 1981 was the supposed year that Sinnesloschen had released the arcade console. At least, in the stories.
Glitch frowns. "I don't know cryptography," he says, sounding a bit ashamed to have to admit it. "But I know Polybius. The stories about it. I read them when I came back."
"I know Polybius, too. It wasn't just a story. Any more than fairies are just a story, in the end." Mearc sticks his hands in his pockets.
Glitch recoils very slowly, eyes widening. "No," he says, but it's the tone of horror rather than denial. His brows furrow, and he stares hard at Mearc, mouth hanging open a bit. Not denial, but the reaction of someone who knows the clear and horrible implications of that. "You don't mean..."
He nods, and looks off to one side. "Yeah...yeah. I was that kid who had no friends and spent all his time at an arcade and when a new shiny machine went in...one with nearly hypnotic graphics..." The sentence trails off with a gesture like 'you know how this story ends'.
Glitch looks absolutely stunned. "Kid Chameleon," he mutters cryptically. "The... were..." His mouth hangs open. "Yeah. That's familiar. Very..." he says, stepping closer, if only to study Mearc's face closely again. "...very, very familiar."
Mearc frowns faintly, freckles going brighter green. "I'm sorry. That you know something about that kind of experience."
He shakes his head. "No, I mean...where did...you end up?" he says. He raises his arms as if to put them on Mearc's shoulders, then halts them mid-motion and takes a step back. It's awkward, but effective. "Who...I know you just said you don't talk about it, but...who was your Keeper?"
"The Eternal City. The Viridian Beacon." He doesn't use the most common name that Keeper uses. "Same as Lux, actually. We...knew one another, Over There."
There is not actually a record screech sound, but if Glitch's face could make one, it would. Then his pixels shift into an expression of pure confusion. "Really," he murmurs. "Shit. Sorry, uh..." He actually looks a little faint and steps back over towards the tables to sit down. "I've never met anyone that...went through the same thing. That was Taken through a screen. That knows what a CRT even is. Most people just don't have any idea what the fuck my deal even is. Even if they know about video games, they don't..."
"Get it?" His voice is quiet. "I mean. It's probably just because our backgrounds are similar. You might be projecting your experience onto me in the hope of making the kind of connection you either consciously or subconsciously have been missing."
Glitch frowns. "You're...yeah, I mean, I do that. But yeah. They don't get it," he says, looking like he at least realizes it's a cliche thing to say. But it's something he truly feels. "I miss this one pretty fuckin' consciously, so no argument there. I wasn't in any...Viridian City. Still. I've been out for years, and you're the closest anyone's come to..." The words fail him. There's some slightly frustrated gestures.
"...you're still a good friend, even if we're not from the same Keeper. Still someone who gets me more than most folx. It's nice to not be the only nerd around, sometimes. I'm lucky, my partners will hang out when I'm playing games sometimes, but they don't...connect, always, the same way I do. You...you understand."
He laughs. A genuine little laugh, even through the distortion of his voice. "I only thought that for a second. But yeah. That's exactly it. They don't share that experience. Teagan...like, Teagan's part of my soul." he mutters, the words pouring out of him like they've been stopped up inside, unable to stop spilling forth now that some have broken free. "They get me. They get what I went through. They had to kill and die over and over again, jumping through hoops for some twisted fucking thing's amusement. They know I love games, and I can find stuff in games that they'd like, that would matter to them. But." He sighs. "Maybe I'm just fucking stressed. Vorp knows their games plenty, we're really similar. But Vorpal's kinda...hard to talk to about that for other reasons."
The sprite stops, and looks momentarily embarassed as he realizes he's pouring his heart out or at least nattering on. "Uh."
"Glitch? How often do you get a chance to, like...talk about this sort of shit? To someone who's not part of your motleycule?" There's something gentle and coaxing in his tone.
He hangs his head a bit and sighs. "....not...very often."
He joins Glitch at the table, sitting on the same side of it this time, legs on the outside and leaning back with his elbows on the table. "It shows. You, uh. Sound like you've got a lot bottled up in there."
"Yeah, that's nothing new," he scoffs. "It took like...three years to convince me to join Summer. I've gotten by my whole life by just shutting off and bottling shit up. Cutting people off. Old habits die hard. You know?" He sighs, and leans back, and fishes around in his pocket again, pulling out a joint and lighting it with a polite turn of his body away from Mearc.
"Well. I'm not about to push you into changing what works, but if you end up at a point where you want to, like...talk? I don't mind listening. You mind if I touch your back?" He's lifted his hand, hovering over Glitch's shoulderblades while he's turned away.
Glitch glances to the side, and shakes his head. There's a beat before he clarifies, "I don't mind," mirroring Mearc's own words. "It didn't work very well. I'm better now. I found out that love doesn't make you weak. That happiness isn't a distraction. That taking care of myself makes me strong, not selfish. But the muscle memory's still all there. I'm relearning all my inputs. I don't know what to do with all these feelings and ideas because I've always just cut them off. But...yeah. Talking to someone will help. Who better than...someone who gets me?"
His touch is light at first, and then firmer, rubbing in gentle circles on Glitch's back, slowly. "When I was newly returned, I was more protocol than person. I was living in a constant complete greenshift, operating by very strict rules. I have rules, still, but I've learned how to cope when the rest of the world doesn't follow the rules I take for granted. It's not exactly the same, but...some of those problems you just mentioned sound very familiar. 'That taking care of myself makes me strong, not selfish' is definitely a lesson that...is still a work in progress, for me. Especially in crises."
The Sprite, for all his bottled up feelings, doesn't seem averse to touch. He relaxes back against the gentle rubbing, closes his eyes, and rolls his head back just a bit. It seems Mearc's already earned a lot of trust tonight. "I...yeah, I used to kinda be less...compatible with how other people saw the world. The Courts that had to deal with me made it worse. They were so up their own ass that I became convinced I was right."
"It's hard to learn to trust, if everyone keeps letting you down, I imagine. Direct Action got you, though. How'd you end up with them, in the first place?" The other hand comes into play, making this a proper massage.
He laughs a bit, and nods. "Teagan got me. The rest followed. I love them all. But Teagan found me. We met at an arcade," he says, pushing very, very tense shoulders back against both of Mearc's hands and rolling his head to the side a bit. "We just, locked eyes. It felt like we knew each other right away. How we thought and felt. Like...heh. Like a mirror. But it wasn't just my reflection, it was the same shape. Anyway. Uh. We talked a bit, and there was this tension...and then we, uh, went out to an alley to hit each other with bats."
"...Literally?" He lets out a startled laugh. "Okay, no, that doesn't actually surprise me."
"Yes, literally," Glitch admits with a snort. "I mean...I think Teagan had a wood sword. But yeah. It was amazing. We locked eyes, sized each other up, and decided...let's fucking fight. Teagan went light shy," he says, outright smiling as he recounts the memory. "I stepped out and swung so hard I caught them anyway. Then I was wide open and Teagan beat the shit out of me."
He lets out a little quiet sigh.
"I can't get it, I don't think I ever truly will, but I definitely respect it. That's how you do Summer romance, I guess?" He laughs. "I'm not...I don't like to fight, personally."
They laugh together, and Glitch smiles, opening his eyes as his head continues to loll against Mearc's kneading hands. "I'm not...I don't get off on getting beaten up. Mostly. I like a fight on its own merits. That was...that was a good fight. Two skilled, dangerous minds that want the same thing. That's more than just violence, more than just cutting through monsters. The damage isn't even what mattered. It's the connection." He huffs and closes his eyes again before he gets too far off topic. "We went home...okay, we went to uh, the local Freehold common, because it had a shower."
He's quiet a moment. "And then I fucked everything up, between...wanting Teagan so bad it freaked me out, and running my mouth about wild shit that would freak anyone out. Killed the mood and made them think I was an asshole. We didn't talk for like...a month."
"Oh. Well. That had to have been rough. I mean, clearly it's worked out since, somehow. But...I can't help but notice that you put absolutely all the blame for that on your own shoulders." His hands move up the back to the shoulders and neck. While he's very clearly not a trained masseuse, he has very nimble fingers. "...speaking of shoulders, yours are full of tension. How much weight are you carrying, Atlas?"
He opens his mouth to reply, and ends up letting out a soft groan of appreciation as Mearc's fingers work out some of that tension. "Just the world," he mutters, squirming back against the kneading like a pet eager to be scratched in just the right spot. "You're...putting up a good fight, though. Who taught you how to give backrubs?"
"I am very talented at hunting for weak or tender points." And he digs a knuckle into a knot he's found in Glitch's muscles slowly, trying to release some of the tension. "It's what I do."
The Sprite lets out another small gasp, arching forward, chin tilting up. His eyes open, and Mearc can feel the flesh beneath his hand tense and shudder. "Nnnh. You're good," he admits, rolling his head back far enough to almost rest it on Mearc's shoulder, but mostly to try and peer up at him inverted. "I'm guessing you're better when you have the right tools and the right place...and you're pretty damn good even without them."
Mearc's green freckles are glowing brightly in the dim park, the nearby streetlamp the only light. "I'm trying to think of a way to respond to that which won't sound like a flirtation. Which is a difficult task."
That gets a snort from Glitch, and he stands up, stepping away from the table and rolling a shoulder with an amused smirk. "I'm glad you said it and not me. It's cool. I'm not gonna get any weird ideas." He peeks at the freckles again. "I'm kinda having the same problem. I'd like a closer look at you sometime. Not...tonight. Some other night." He frowns. "See, that...just sounds worse."
Mearcstapa laughs, remaining seated for the moment. "I was this close to saying 'it's hard', and I know that would have been a mistake. But, uh. Yeah, if you want to examine me, sure. You can even ask the question no one ever asks directly, about the colors."
There's a knowing smirk at that. "Most people never ask about the pixels. Some people get really into them, but most of them were just...excessively friendly." He slips down to sit at the table and peers into the other Lost's face. "What do the colors mean?"
"To what degree I'm 'operating on emotion' or 'operating on rationality'. Am I feeling or calculating, or both? Or, rarely, neither. If all my freckles dim out, that tends to be a bad sign. So going red is not the equivalent of a blush, as many assume. Over There, it was green, all the time. More protocol than person, as I said, but that doesn't work well over here."
The Sprite ponders that, eyebrows lifting in interest. "So wait, which is which? When you say protocol, you mean...instructions, rules, right? So the green's rationality, and the red is feeling?"
He nods. "Yeah. I redden when I'm feeling...any emotion. And go greener when processing, calculating, figuring something out. Working out a problem."
A pause, Mearc looks at some of Glitch's artifacting. "Have you ever dropped a game cartridge on a hard floor, and it only mostly works after that? You remind me a little of that. It's fitting to your name, isn't it?"
He lifts his eyebrows again, apparently finding Mearc fascinating. "So blushing gives people a false positive. You do go red when you blush. But it's a single edge case. Red could mean anything. And I'm guessing if you were green all the time, you weren't supposed to go red." Mearc's words make him almost grin a bit, eyes lidding in satisfaction as he's recognized. "I gave myself my name," he beeps. A hand lifts to nudge at his forehead right where a band of scrambled tiles flicker, their pixels never quite returning to proper fleshtone. "And that's...one way to do it. I'm sure you know the others. Do you know what Corruption is?"
"In the context of digital files? Write/read errors, things like that?" His head tilts to one side, freckles (predictably) going greener.
Glitch nods. "Data corruption. The kind you would see when the contacts don't fully bridge between cartridge and system, from corrosion or physical damage. You can make it occur in an emulated game by injecting data randomly, altering values and seeing what happens. But it's possible for it to occur without any outside intervention. To originate entirely in a game's own code, rules, and events."
That statement seems important--Mearc seizes on it like he did with that tense muscle earlier, eyebrows raising. "Under what circumstances?"
Glitch is a bit more guarded about this than his shoulder muscles, but the desire to share with someone who might understand, deeply and fully, is far too strong to resist. "Most corruptions or code manipulation are possible due to data overflow. I'm not a coder, but..." He pauses, giving Mearc a chance to reply, knowing he may well be familiar with the topic.
"Opposite of the nuclear Ghandi situation." There's a pause, then a frown. "You corrupted yourself, to get out?"
Glitch blinks at that, and looks surprised once again. "You really are good at figuring shit out," he murmurs, knowing he's unable to hide the answer his face gave. "I didn't say I corrupted myself," he points out, looking off to the side.
“No, you didn’t say that. But did you? I can’t imagine how painful that must have been, as a process.” His freckles shift somewhat redder and he takes a step closer to look at some of the flaws the process left Glitch with, jittering across his face.
"I corrupted the game," he corrects. "I was part of the game." The majority of Glitch's pixels are fixed, as if the light reflected from him was simply faceted and filtered into discrete squares of pure color. They shift with Mearc's own perspective, seeming to grow finer in resolution as he draws closer, but they remain consistent from a given point of observation. His corruptions are simply pixels that are not the proper color corresponding to that part of him. The bits on the edges of his face are made up of random swaths of garbled tiles, pieces of numbers and letters and more complex patterns thrown together randomly. On the very edges of his form, the tips of his ears and hair, clusters of pixels appear to flicker away entirely, the world briefly glimpsed through them before they return momentarily.
"The process wasn't that painful. Just the result."
There’s a soft gasp, and Mearc seems to consider the implications of that for a good moment or three before speaking again. “You don’t have to tell me any more. Not if you don’t want to, but I’m here to listen if that’s what you need.”
He nods. "I think I'll keep that for another time. You're already the second person in the world I've told that to. I mean...do me a favor, don't tell anyone else. You can talk all you want about the hugs and backrub," he quips. "The rest... we can go over in detail later. And I'm not giving up all my info without trading for some of yours."
He's smiling. "I should get going. If I run into Lux or Jack, I'll tell them I saw you eat curry." There's a pause, and another small blush before he asks, "...can I hug you again?"
“Of course you can hug again.” He spreads his arms. “And...I’ll keep the details of your escape secret. I understand what that sort of thing means. As for my own information, my memory isn’t the best, for over there. But I can trade some stories about the City, and about my time in Chicago, before I moved here.”
Glitch accepts the offer and the hug, stepping in to squeeze Mearc tight. "Thanks. Turns out I needed that just as much as you did. Take care of yourself out there, yeah?" Then he lets go, turns away, and walks off into the night, his back slowly disappearing from the hunterheart's gaze.
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