024 - Himalayan Blackberry

[deadly_ned]

I didn't make it home in time for Halloween. A...twenty-year-old tradition. Broken just like that.

I don't know if that's a sign to move on or a sign I've been here too long or not a sign at all, just an odd and unfortunate coincidence.



[Private to Alpha]

Checking in.

[Private to Dean]

I'm going to go...pick up Digby and then. Come to your room.

I'm death-tolling. For the first time. I'm death-tolling.

[Spam to Hannibal]

[Though lethargic and in a significant amount of pain, the Piemaker still struggles to Hannibal Lecter's door with alarming resolve, intent on reclaiming his dog. He holds the doorframe with one hand, pale and panting, before giving a quiet knock on the door]

Comments

Spam, later

[deadly_ned]

[Some time later, the Piemaker, with Digby in tow on his leash, arrives at Dean's door. It's taken him a considerable amount of time; he's pale, drained physically and emotionally, and near to collapsing.

Digby, in contrast, sits next to his master with tail wagging slowly]

Spam, later

[composited]

[ Alpha is sitting, cross legged, next to Dean's door. He rises, giving a tight smile, but does not speak. Then he reaches out to pat Digby's head. ]

Spam, later

[deadly_ned]

[Digby, happy to see a friendly, familiar face, immediately wanders to Alpha to nuzzle the petting hand.

The Piemaker does not smile - hasn't smiled, not for weeks now. But his permanent, distant frown lightens somewhat at seeing his inmate intact, and in his other hand he holds out a thermos for Alpha to take - a milkshake, it turns out. Even when he can't bake, comfort food is always on the menu.

Then, he turns to knock at Dean's door]

Spam, later

[composited]

[ Alpha accepts both nuzzling and milkshake with something like gratitude for both. No fight, not right now. He's thinking of that other Alpha and trying to think of who the man he became remind okay s him of. ]

[ Finally he settles on something, and is-- actually okay with it. He's calm now. Lighter. He texts, one handed. Milkshake in the other. ]

Next step?

Spam, later

[deadly_ned]

[The Piemaker leans over to observe the text on Alpha's own communicator, before texting back - his neck has been slashed open at the jugular, so talking is painful, near impossible for him as well]

I don't know.

What do you think?

Spam, later

[composited]

Don't know. Future's an blank ticket for an unknown destination.

Spam, later

[deadly_ned]

That's what happens when you're your own person.

You have to make up what comes next.

Spam, later

[composited]

Yeah, I know.

What do you want to do next?

Spam, later

[deadly_ned]

Help you decide what you want to do next.

And. Find a way to get back to baking. Without hurting people. Or myself.


...But first sleep. Sleep before anything.

Spam, later

[composited]

I don't know yet. The problem with having a feast of choice after a famine is you don't know where to start, what tastes good, and what'll sour your stomach. It all looks good but it's all foreign delicacies.

Anyway. Baking. We can work with that. After you sleep.

Spam, later

[surfaceshine]

[Dean knows Alpha is there; not immediately, but he's listening for Ned, so he knows someone is there. They stay there, and the hunter has absolutely no intention of going out there himself, so he leaves it alone.

When Ned finally knocks, it takes Dean a while to get there. He's pale and he's cold and he's dressed to match in trackpants, a t-shirt and an oversized hoodie, and he's never putting his Colt down again outside of his reach. Once he sees who it is he opens the door wider, uncocks the gun, but just lets it down to his side.

He glances at Alpha, then Ned, then down at Digby. Turns his palm out towards the dog after a moment.]

Sorry to interrupt. [...what...ever is going on out here... Add Dean to the list of people who shouldn't be talking, though he's got a day or so on the other two.]

Re: Spam, later

[deadly_ned]

[Digby in turn happily trots over to Dean, looking up at him and settling down just in front of the man's shoes. Hello, Dean.

the Piemaker in turn steps aside to let Alpha enter first, giving a weary nod to Dean]

No. I mean. You weren't.

Thank you for letting us in.

Spam, later

[composited]

[ Alpha pauses, and then shakes his head. ]

No need. I'm fine with my room if you're taken care of. I'm not hurting.

[ Mostly because he's emotionally empty and just sort of faking it as his brain attempts to reorganize itself. ]

Spam, later

[surfaceshine]

[Dean allows himself to be distracted by Digby for a moment, reaching down just enough to scratch behind his ears. His attention is still on the two men, though, and will be until the door is closed and locked again, whoever ends up on whichever side of it.

Dean isn't in great shape either, and he doesn't bother wasting energy showing that. The stare he levels on Alpha while he refuses isn't openly hostile but it's not friendly, either, it's not anything at all. He tilts his own head, glances at Ned, back again.]

In or out, boys, I'm not trying to heat the hallway. [Tired, but as genuine as he can be.]

Spam, later

[deadly_ned]

[By this point, the Piemaker's been made aware of what's been done to Alpha's head. He wants him to stay so that he'll be around when Alpha returns to normal over a slow period of time, but posing it as an order is not the right way to do it.

He turns to look at his inmate, biting his lip]

Would you stay?

Spam, later

[composited]

[ Alpha looks between them, blue eyes with a forced lightness to them, a sparkle that's all rhinestone. Then he types out: ]

Do you want me to?

Spam, later

[surfaceshine]

[Dean waits, and here again he finds himself ignoring all common sense because he knows how hard Ned has fought for this, wanted this. He's silent.]

Spam, later

[deadly_ned]

[The answer comes less than a second later.]

Of course I do.

Spam, later

[composited]

[ Well, okay then. Alpha nods once, complacent and confused, but trails after his warden like an obedient Doll with his handler, paying little mind to poor Dean. ]

Spam, later

[surfaceshine]

[The hunter stands back out of the way, and closes the door behind them both.

His cabin is larger than it has been for the majority of his stay on the Barge, newly expanded just last month to include the TV and X-Box in the corner, and the untouched, unfinished kitchen in the other; it's still studio style, still obviously a generic hotel room under the wear and tear of almost two years of being lived in, and it's messy now. Unmade bed, dirty clothes and clean clothes alike scattered around, a few towels, only a couple heavier jackets left hanging up in the open closet. There's a writing desk, a large reclining couch, the bed against one wall, a record player and a mini fridge, and not a lot else. A large bookshelf in the corner with only two books on it. A Led Zeppelin poster. The salt line at the door, and the wards hidden in the corners, the Devil's Trap above the door.

Dean crosses to the closet, picking up a few discarded articles of clothing as he goes, tossing them into the corner to deal with later.]

Make yourselves at home. I'm gonna grab a shower and... I don't know. Head out or something.

Spam, later

[deadly_ned]

[Digby does, indeed, make himself at home. He trots inside, hopping up on the unmade bed and making a nest for himself. He settles, putting his head on his paws and looking at warden and inmate coming through the door.

The Piemaker is less enthusiastic, and inches inside with his arms hugged tight to his chest. He looks around, biting his lip, before making his way to the couch]

Thank you.

Head out..?

Re: Spam, later

[composited]

[ Alpha didn't care about propriety-- or anything else-- an simply sat on the bed, and pet Digby. Dean and Ned could work things out. ]

Spam, later

[surfaceshine]

[Dean casts a dark look in Alpha's direction -] Couch is free. Bed's not. [- before looking back to Ned.]

Yeah. You're tolling, squeaker. You need your beauty sleep and I need to check on some things.

[Lying is easy. So much easier than saying anything else about it.]

Spam, later

[deadly_ned]

[The Piemaker looks over, anxiously sending his own mental prodding to his inmate to gently urge him from the bed, if only to placate their host. Digby, for his part, listens and climbs from bed to couch.

He gives a weary shrug, too tired to be embarrassed by the nickname said in front of Alpha]

Just so long as you're not. Dragging me to the infirmary.

Spam, later

[composited]

[ Alpha follows Digby -- not because he cares about what Dean said, but because Digby is strangely comforting still. This is as close to Doll state as he can remember ever being, of being Alpha for the first time, not understanding or feeling, simply -- being. ]

[ Later, he'll think about killing Vin for it. For now, he pets the dog. ]