Duplicity Inbox

[domainless]

Martin is away from the phone right now. Pleas leave a message and he'll get back to you.

Comments

[alwayskayaking]

They don't desire to stay there.

[domainless]

I did say that.

Just that with what happened at home... everyone's suffering.

[alwayskayaking]

But you think you're going to be able to stop it?

[domainless]

I don't know. We're going to try to undo it.

[alwayskayaking]

If they are still alive and you undo what has been done; do you think there is still a chance for our coworkers?

[domainless]

...Sasha's gone. I mean, also Jon smited the thing that killed her. But she- she's not-

I'm sorry.

[alwayskayaking]

Yeah... well, good.

But she's not gone here. She's just asleep. Come over whenever you're ready to see her.

[domainless]

I know. She's here and she's her and... it's good.

I will. Do you need me to bring anything round?

[alwayskayaking]

Several hundred cases of beer?

[domainless]

How about one case and a bottle of vodka?

[alwayskayaking]

I think I can make that work.

[domainless]

Cool. I'll bring snacks too.

[alwayskayaking]

See you soon.

[domainless]

Yeah, I'll be there.

[He shows up an hour or so later, with a case of beer and a bottle of some generic whiskey. It's probably not the time for nice alcohol.

He knocks at the door.]

[alwayskayaking]

[Tim looks like a mess when he opens the door for Martin. His hair clearly hasn't seen a comb, his shirt is half tucked and wrinkled, beard clearly hasn't been trimmed for the day, and that's nothing to say for the worried bags under his eyes or the way they probably appear slightly swollen and red. More than that he just looks defeated. Sasha sleeps on and there was nothing he could do.]

Hey, come on in. Make yourself at home. [He waves Martin in and towards their lounge where there is a comfortable looking sofa and a coffee table.] Unless... would you like to see her? She's just sleeping right now.

[domainless]

[He looks terrible. As bad as the worst days in the Archives. Maybe worse? Sadder, for sure. Sadness isn't as much use as fuel as anger, he supposes.]

I think- let's sit down for a bit? Do you want a drink?

[alwayskayaking]

Sure. I have a beer in the fridge. [If he had been alone he might have gone for tea. To keep his head clear and wits about him, but Martin was here now. Now he felt like he could have a beer and let Martin do the thinking for a little bit.] I have tea if you want to make yourself a cup.

[domainless]

Yeah, Yeah I'll make one.

[He goes to grab Tim a beer first, and brings it back with an empty glass and a glass of water, then goes to put on the kettle.]

Have you eaten anything recently?

[alwayskayaking]

[He looks from his beer to the glass. Pouring it seemed like so much work to pour it right now, but he finds the energy to be some what civil. Pouring the drink into the glass before taking a sip.] No, I was waking her up for breakfast. Or, well, I was trying to wake her up.

[domainless]

Okay. I'm going to make some... toast? Is toast okay? Or I could cook eggs if you have some?

[It is oh so easy to fall back into caretaking.]

[alwayskayaking]

Yeah, sure. [He vaguely waves towards the kitchen.] Bread should be on the counter and eggs in the fridge.

[domainless]

Right.

[He hesitates, not looking away from Tim for a moment before he sighs and goes to make some food. Eggs are easy food, quick to cook, quick to eat, easy to digest. He's made them a hundred times for mum before- It's familiar.

He brings out a plate a short while later and sets it in front of Tim.]

[alwayskayaking]

[By the time Martin returns with food, Tim has picked up the photo album on the coffee table. Flipping through photos of him and Sasha together. When she was awake instead of being cursed by the city to sleep without end.

He does at least glance up when Martin brings the food around. Setting the book aside to glance at the eggs that have been made just for him. He really didn't want to eat it, but it would be rude not to. After another brief pause he finally reaches for a plate with a soft: thanks. Taking a few unenthusiastic bites.]

[domainless]

[That's something at least. Food helps, he knows from experience. It doesn't fix things, but it dulls the grief and hurt, just a bit.

He gives a small smile and then goes to sit nearby, not touching but just there.]

[alwayskayaking]

[Slowly he chews on his a bite of food. Much longer than it should take to chew down a piece of egg and toast while he stares at the photobook he had set down.

Finally he swallows it down.] What-- what am I going to do? How am I supposed to help her if she wakes up remembering how it feels to die? Not even just die, but what that thing did to-- [His voice breaks and his brings up a shaking hand to cover his mouth for a second. When he speaks again its that with a hint of anger behind it.] What if she's not really dead? But... between that. How can I possibly help her if that happens?