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At least the place has a gym. Aaron's apartment doesn't have a gym. He usually has to haul ass all the way out to Camp Constantine. So. There's that, at least. Keeping up with the cardio and such. It's a chore, but it's keeping him in good shape. He's finished his workout, grabbed a shower, and is now tidying up the suite from takeout containers and strewn clothes and such. The clothes are collected for washing down in the laundry, the trash bagged and set outside the room for pick up. In short order, the room is all nicely ordered again. Not home, precisely. But cozy, in any case. Then Aaron settles in on the bed and turns on the TV to relax with some nice, wholesome local news. Which is neither of those things.
They sent a text ahead, confirming it was okay to visit, and that they have updates. So it's not a surprise when Ziv arrives.
A tap on the door: "It's me." And then the key card in the door. They push their way in, close the door behind them, and lock it. It's early yet, so they've brought coffee from a food truck down the street -- however Aaron likes his for him, and a frothy hazelnut latte with whipped cream for themself, as little a treat. As opposed to big A treat, which is a whole other thing.
Today's twink outfit is a tank top that reads MERMAID PARADE, ASBURY PARK NJ, and short shorts.
Cream and sugar is how he prefers it, but he'll take it black. Rabbis can't be choosers. He mutes the TV and swings his legs over the side of the bed, sitting himself up. For all that it's morning yet, he's been up and around for quite some time and seems relatively alert for now having been about to veg out on the bed and watch the news. "You're not me, you're Ziv." He shakes his head in disappointment that Ziv would lie to him so boldly. "How's your cowboy?"
These are things that Zivs remember. Charming people is in the details, and charming people is what Zivs do. Something something Siren. They cross to pass over the coffee, leaning over it to give him a kiss. "You're incorrigible," they offer, rolling their hazel eyes affectionately in a way that no one who can't see the Mask would ever know. Stepping on the heels of their Chucks, they clamber across him to (carefully, on account of the coffee) flop down next to him. One of the pillows is grabbed so they can stuff it behind their head, kind of leaning on him while still able to drink said coffee. "She's better. Not hurt anymore. I managed to get as close to the whole story as I think exists."
"She said I'm allowed to explain it all to you, but she was worried about the details, because, and I quote, 'I don't want him to hate me.'"
His eyebrows lift and fall in a sort of facial shrug. Not quite sure what to do with that piece of information apart from denote that he'd heard it. He does return the kiss, take his coffee, sip it to test the temperature, and then sets it onto the end table. That done he stretches himself back out on the bed, slipping an arm about their shoulders so that they can cuddle in against him for what is probably going to be another in a series of unpleasant conversations.
"So I was right. Okay. Good." A short beat. "I mean. Not good. But I'm glad that I eventually figured out what was going on and called you in. I'm glad I was able to identify a problem and make sure she got help."
"It's important that you know that your opinion of her really matters to her, that's all." They take another swallow of their coffee, lick their lips, and then lean to press a hazelnut kiss to his scruffy cheek. A click of their tongue against the roof of their mouth. "You were right. She was not doing well at all. Your instincts were -- really good on that, and I appreciate that you did what you did. It was exactly the right thing to do." Curling in against his shoulder, they take in a breath and let it out slowly.
"So." They look for the right place to grab hold of this thread and pull it. "The shortest version of this is that she came to your apartment building by the rooftop, and came out the front door. They were waiting out front -- she doesn't think they're the same ones who we dealt with. She also said that they'd put out some sort of... BHI... kind of flyers on the cars. Some really bad attempts to sour shit for you in your neighborhood. They were dumb and awful, of course, but... " Their voice trails off. "Anyway." Another sip of coffee to fortify them. "She tried playing Dumb Girl to get them away from the door. Asked them for a ride somewhere."
"She asked them for a ride to William Way. They took her out toward the Navy Yard." Breath in and out. "They clocked her, and she knew they clocked her, and -- when they told her to get out of the car, and she did, everyone else got out, too, and the driver pulled a gun."
"The story she told me was disjointed and full of holes. Not even holes. Omissions. And then half-truths. I knew she'd killed someone, and I knew she'd at least tried to stop it. But I also knew she baited them as much as they were baiting her. I told her before she left that at the point they drew a pistol, she had every right to defend herself. But." Aaron's shoulders lift and fall, followed by a small sigh. "I think I may have to go after these people directly. The Proud Boys, I mean. Just put myself in front of them. And a camera. And let the world see them as they truly are. If they're staking out my neighborhood, then..." A small shrug.
"But this is, what. Eight of them we've hospitalized in the last week? I'm genuinely surprised they're still pushing this nonsense. Sort of makes me wonder if they're going to back off, or if they're going to try to escalate."
"Yeah, well. She wasn't doing well, and she didn't want you to hate her." A slow breath out. "She saw them as a direct threat to you, and to me, and that's not a thing she can let stand. That's as much a part of her as Judaism is to me or you." Ziv pushes up onto their elbow, takes another sip of their coffee, and leans across him to put it down on the nightstand. "She didn't really, from what I can tell, provoke them except by existing as a Japanese trans woman and asking for help. Like, she didn't go to pick a fight. She asked them for help. But I guess she did that knowing how they'd react. So... inasmuch as she said 'wow, I bet they're going to try to hurt or kill me, and I can handle them,' she provoked them. By existing." As they continue talking, they turn to rest their head on his chest, looking up at him.
"Seven in the hospital. One's body in the borderlands between here and Faerie," Ziv answers, scratching their cheek a little with one hand. "She Sealed them -- an enforceable promise that she'll know if they break -- not to tell the truth about what happened. And to clean up the shit they put in your neighborhood."
"That's still someone that was killed on my behalf, and it doesn't sit right with me. At all. I understand why she did it, but if she hadn't gotten into that car, that man would still be alive. People can't change if they're dead." Aaron takes in a breath and heaves out a sigh. He's not angry, just disappointed. A few months back, maybe he'd have been angry. Now, though? Not so much, apparently. "It's unfortunate. And the family won't have a body to bury, either. That was some mother's son, you know?" He shakes his head a bit, staring up at the ceiling with a small frown.
"I'll probably start a watch movement in my neighborhood. Definitely in my apartment complex. Plan a neighborhood cookout. Get some local musicians in and such. Put this whole ridiculous mess to bed."
A small smile flutters across Ziv's face: it's a regretful, sad sort of smile, but a smile all the same. "The way she sees it, if she hadn't gotten into that car, I might be dead, and that's not a thing she can let happen. Not just because she loves me, but because that's literally her job in our society. If she had failed to protect me by walking away, and those men had later hurt me, or you, or any one of ours?" A little shake of their head.
"She didn't mean to kill him. She didn't want to kill him. She tried not to kill him. But she did. I get it. Not being able to bury a body because someone disappears is... "
"Something we deal with, with the families of Lost." And then they pull in a breath, let it out. "I think that sounds like a really, really good idea. Handle it with a fucking block party."
"Then you know what his family is going to be going through." Aaron pinches the bridge of his nose for a long span of moments and relents, flopping his hand back onto his chest with the most longsuffering of sighs. Generally speaking men who got into the community healing business because a family member was murdered don't take well to people being murdered on their behalf. That's just how it's going to be, apparently.
"Anyway. I'm glad she's feeling better and wasn't hurt. And I'm glad I got you in touch with her. And I'm glad you stayed with her last night. She's a very sweet and enthusiastic person. I suppose this means I should try heading back home tomorrow. Well. Tonight, I suppose."
A small sucked-in breath, and they look up at him in a long moment of silence. "I do. And I'm not unaware of the context for you, Sweetheart. I'm not here to tell you that how you feel is wrong. I'm here to explain to you what happened and to explain to you her context. And, honestly... "
"... also just explain how that works. And by 'that' I mean 'the fact that being clocked and having homophobic slurs used on trans women when they get clocked' is what happened." A vague rolling of their shoulders. "Anyway." And with that, they move on from the topic. "I'm glad that you were able to see what had happened, and call me. She is far more likely to receive that type of damage than physical damage." A click of their tongue against the roof of their mouth again. "She is sweet and enthusiastic." Their breath puffs. "Heading home tonight is a good idea, I would think. How can I help you?"
"I figured I'd do the laundry here, since it's free with the room. I'll call down for a late checkout. Then we have to pack up the holy names and get them back safely. I'm still not sure I feel totally safe keeping the at home, though. Maybe I can stash them at Hogwarts." Which is what Aaron refers to the Consilium as. "Probably Constantine would be okay with that, maybe. Oh! Epiphanius. I know he would." Hey, former minister in love with illumination. Will you hold on to these holy books for me? Thanks.
"But for tonight they can come home and I can figure out where to stash them next until I'm sure things have died down and they've learned their lesson. I'll reach out to the interfaith network and see about organizing the block party. Get the AME church, the mosque, Kol Tzedek, and so on involved. You're probably good at helping organize a good party, right?" That's kind of in their job description, even.
There's a long silence, and Ziv points out, "I have a place which is as safe as I can make it. We can walk them through from the bathroom door here and put them in the cottage. They'll be safe." That silence was contemplative, a sort of 'is this going to make him uncomfortable to offer.' It seems to be very logical to them. After all, it's where they keep what books they own. "... wait, did you just call ... " They laugh softly. "Hogwart's. Wow. Should I ask which House you are?"
They listen to the planning and then laugh softly. "Actually, it's in the job description. So yes, I'm quite good at it. Joyeux make parties happen. It's one of our functions."
"Maybe you know some musicians or performers that wouldn't mind turning out. DJs. Stuff like that. If you could take over that part of things for me, that would be great. I'm a total square, so my taste in music is not going to please. It's just Dan Nichols and Debbie Friedman on repeat. So." Aaron grins aside at Ziv when he busts on himself. It's true, though. "Gryffindor. Definitely Gryffindor." Although he's clearly a Hufflepuff.
"How can I access them if you've got them in there, though? Do I just bug you on the phone, or?"
"I can put out the good word. I'm newer here, so I don't know as many people, but I'm pretty sure I can get friend-of-friends to help network." When Aaron busts on himself, they snicker. They understood that reference! So good. Curling up comfortably on him, they laugh. "Mmmm, I think Hufflepuff. People underestimate how badgers fight. And you're definitely not reckless enough for a Gryffindor." Of course they watched Harry Potter -- it's an important cultural touchstone. Joyeux be like that.
"I mean, yeah, bug me on the phone. I didn't intend it for a long-term solution, really -- I don't mind, but I figured at least then you could be more sure that Proud Boys wouldn't get to them, either."
"I told the Sorting Hat to get bent," Aaron asides to Ziv with a small shrug of the shoulders. "I'm what's called an Adamantine Arrow. A Talon. That's my rank. There's a bunch of dragon symbolism in what we do. Anyway. We're the soldiers of our society. Though not just the soldiers. We struggle to better ourselves, to keep our society safe, to defend our groups. Stuff like that. Not that I have a group. I'm what's called a Solitaire. In that I have no other mages looking out for me, particularly." Aaron Cohen, Wave Man. "Anyway. That would work, sure. One less thing to haul around."
The look that slides across Ziv's face is affectionately amused -- delighted, even -- at that explanation. "Badgers fight," they reiterate, but move on from that easily. They made their point, such as it is. And the longer he goes on? The more their hazel eyes glitter. They drink up the information. The explanation about what's important to them. "Wow. I really have a type," they sigh. "That's essentially Summer, when it's good." And when it's bad doesn't bear talking about. "I don't have a motley. I might, at some point, but I don't right now." They absently gnaw on their lower lip. "Like I said, as long as it's practical for you. I think it should be fine."
"You'll just have to put up with me bugging you on the phone until we get a more permanent solution sorted out." And having laid out the plans for the rest of the day, Aaron has to regretfully sit up and set them into motion. He picks up the phone and pokes the button to call the desk, requesting a late checkout, then hops up to his feet to go collect his laundry and whatever of Ziv's got left over here. "Let's go get the load started, babe."
"Oh no, a great tragedy, being bugged on the phone by my hot smart sweet rabbi boyfriend, oh no." Ziv rolls away from laying on Aaron's chest, splayed across the bed like they have been injured. Noooooo. An tragedy. "Okay. Let's go do the thing. But later I want snuggles."
"There will be snuggles once we get back home, yeah." Aaron assures Ziv with a chuckle, "But it won't happen unless you get up. Why don't you go take Chewie for a walk around the courtyard? Grab something to eat and bill it to the room, we can meet back up here in a bit and get everything packed in. And honestly, we can just throw everything into your hidey hole and haul it out when we get back to me place. Much easier than carrying it all out of the room again."
"Now you're thinking with portals," answers Ziv, scrambling up off of the bed and going to snag their sneakers, shoving them onto their feet and tightening the laces. Then it's time to grab the leash and wake up Chewie, who was asleep in his crate. "I didn't have breakfast, actually, so that's an amazing idea." They scoop up the pup, who licks their face like he has never been loved, ever, in the history of anything, and then pad over to push up to the balls of their feet and kiss him. "I'll meet you back here."
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