Participants:
| Scene Title | Midnight Snack |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | New flatmates Toru and Nick get to know one another a little better. |
| Date | February 11, 2011 |
Brooklyn Nick's Apartment
It's past curfew. Much past curfew. It's only the third night of co-habitation, so it's hard to say what patterns Nick keeps just yet, but this seems to be one of them. Three nights and three times Nick has crept into the apartment in the middle of the night. The conversations the two have had do not number much higher, and mostly about as many words from the terse Brit.
Tonight he's a little earlier than the night before; it's just past midnight as the sound of metal on metal can be heard at the door, before it swings open and Nick steps inside; he brings with him a chilly draft of wintry temperature and the slight scent of his cigarettes mixed with the clean, forest-and-citrus sort of soap he uses.
If nothing else, having access to an apartment has opened all sorts of personal grooming doors for Toru. Regular access to a bathroom with a shower. He's shaved. Yesterday he experimented with a goatee, but that didn't last very long before all facial hair was disposed of entirely. And at some point he went to a salon of some sort, because his hair is shorter on the sides, though still a bit long on top, and it's been bleached that delightful shade of Asian Orange. And he has clean clothes. Oh god, the opulent indulgence.
Thus far, he's still been awake by the time Nick gets back, though wrapped in a blanket on the couch either wrapped up in his phone or with television. Usually cartoons or some horrible movie, nothing with any sort of interesting plot. It's just the phone, tonight. When Nick enters, he greets with a wave of his hand and a detached, "Yo," though he does note the time and adds, "You back early?"
Keys get dumped onto the coffee table, though his coat is removed and tossed onto his bed. The items in his pockets — cell phone and gun — he doesn't trust to leave just laying around with Toru in the apartment. "I guess," Nick says vaguely, pulling the tuque off his head and tossing it onto the coffee table as well before he heads into the kitchenette.
"You wanna beer?" he asks, reaching in the fridge for a can of Bass himself, and leaning against the open door to peer back at Toru on the couch before squinting at the rest of the contents in the fridge.
"Naw, I'm good." Toru rolls around a bit on the couch, untangling himself from his blanket and sitting upright. Sleepytime clothes are a t-shirt and flannel pants, for warmth more than anything; even though the apartment is plenty warm, he's still used to being freezing, lately. Making up for lost warmtime.
Sits up, stretches, and pushes himself up to his feet. "I got some pizza earlier.." he gestures towards the fridge and a box lurking within. "Uh, bacon. Go ahead and have some if you want." Shrug. "I been kinda lookin' around for a job gig but it's kinda.. When you been out in the cold for a while it's kind hard to wanna go back out into it after you get to stay in. Y'know?" He forces a chuckle at that, going to lean against a countertop all casual-like.
"Thanks," Nick says, staring into the pale light of the fridge for a moment before apparently deciding the beer is enough to suffice. Letting the door swing shut, he huffs a short laugh at the comment about the cold.
Moving back toward the living area, he nods, fingers curling under the tab to open it with a crisp krsssh. "Yeah, been there, done that. I know what you mean." He takes a drink of the beer and moves to his bed, setting the can on the end table so he can pull off his boots. "Settling in here all right?"
Toru gives a brief nod at that. He fusses with his hair a little, brushing bangs out of his face, eventually settling for brushing it all back awkwardly. It's all— mussy. "Yeah, it's all good. Better than my old place, anyway. I been kinda.." He frowns, rubbing the back of his neck. "I told you my old roomie's crazy, right? So I don't gotta deal with that."
There's actually a vaguely solemn moment there as he considers aforementioned roommate. "You know, now that I think of it, he's gotta be inside the dome too. In the apartment. Since he'd be with it." Yes, exactly. "I mean, he's probably okay, he can handle himself, but that still pretty much has to suck."
Boots removed, Nick nods. "That would suck. I know some people in there, too," he says quietly. Not quite a friend. Not quite family. But Ethan is something, and Nick cares about the man's wellbeing, at least insofar as it affects Eileen's. Gabriel is less of a friend, less of family — but there is still the connection to Nick's sister, and Nick finds himself worried about both.
"There's not much you can do, though," he adds, and it's gentle enough. "You can worry, sure, but unless you have a power that's gonna take down that thing, you can't stress on it, yeah?"
A wry smirk, at that. "Yeah, I don't think I " err. " I mean, uh, yeah. I'm not really worried, I guess. Just.. well, I'd rather he didn't get himself hurt, obviously. But I don't think anybody else I know is in there, so." Shrug. He moves to dig into the fridge, opting to get a slice of that pizza, and chews on it thoughtfully for a minute. Doing a brief tally of everyone he knows. Hadn't actually thought about that situation yet.
Apparently he decides anyone else he might give any sort of crap about is okay, and nods. "I mean, I guess I don't really got all that many friends anymore," he observes without any sort of melancholy, "so that's good for me. Nobody to worry about, heh."
Nick arches a brow and picks up his beer again, to take another swallow. "Good luck with that. I didn't think I knew anyone in this city when I got here, but everywhere I turn someone knows me. And I didn't think I'd care if anyone I knew got stuck in a glass jar like that, 'cept maybe one exception, and go the fuck figure, I actually do."
There's a snort of bemusement and the glass is set down again. "So you live on the island? You Evolved?" Not that everyone who lives there is, but — almost.
Toru's eyebrows go up a bit at that, but he shrugs. Hey, fair enough. He pushes himself up onto a countertop all casual-like, chews on his pizza thoughtfully, swallows, nods. "Y'know you're actually one of the only people I've talked to lately who I don't figure is gonna try and kill me eventually." The grin there is possibly inappropriate, but not forced. "Met some broad the other day who I think's gonna try and stab me, my roomie's gonna get me in trouble if I keep hangin' around him.."
"Anyway, no, I don't live on Roosevelt, man. Queens, probably." Shrug, another bite of pizza. The Evolved question has him hesitating a minute. Finally, though, he shrugs. "Yeah, I guess I am. That's kinda parta why I got trouble findin' work."
"Probably?" Nick echoes. There's something sketchy about Toru's story — every time he mentions his apartment, it's couched in terms of uncertainty. But Nick nods, pushing off from the bed and padding across the apartment in white socks to the kitchen. He moves to the fridge to grab a piece of the pizza after all, looking at it skeptically. Bacon? But he takes a bite, chewing and then washing it down with beer.
"'m not," he says, mouth still a little full, though he is polite enough not to show any of the mouthful. "What's it you do?"
Oh, he should have figured it'd come down to the 'what's your ability' question. It always does. Toru actually kind of blushes at the prospect of being the center of attention in that regard, since he probably shouldn't blow Nick off entirely. That'd be— ruder than he'd like. Guy is giving him crash space, after all.
So after giving himself a moment by chewing it over with the remainder of his slice of pizza, he wipes his hand off on his shirt (so suave) and explains, "I can turn my skin to bone." He'll just leave out the part where he can do it to other people too, for now. "It's good in a fight but it kinda hurts like hell. I'm mostly used to it, but y'know."
Dark brows rise and Nick looks impressed enough. "Remind me not to hit you, then," he says, a rueful glance down at his left hand still bound by gauze — gauze that's looking a little grimy and worse for wear, in need of changing, to be more precise. "But that makes sense. You mentioned your other work in the past, and you didn't seem the fighting type, you know?"
Another bite of pizza is taken and Nick leans back against the counter, head bumping against a cupboard lightly. "That's a new one. Ain't seen that one before. You can do it consciously or is it just like, something that happens if you get scared or something?"
Toru teeters a hand, making 'enh' noise. "Mostly I got it under wraps but sometimes it just sorta happens. Thing is it's like.." Think, think. "Say I got my arm all boned up and I get hit with something strong enough to break it, if I go all skinny again the skin's gonna be broke. And I'll still bleed if it breaks all the way through. Like, I can pretty much do it as thick as I want, but usually I just do a thin layer 'cause like I said. Hurts."
He pushes himself back off the counter, strolling over to the fridge to dig for a can of soda. *krssh* Glug. "And I do friggin' get into fights sometimes, that's why I wear the girly gloves, 'cause you can sorta tell when I'm doin' it. Different color. So that way y'don't see, right? Then wham! Bonefists up in your face."
Wham. Nick chuckles. "That and who the hell expects someone with girly gloves to be throwin' punches," he adds, then shrugs his left shoulder in a conciliatory gesture. "No offense. I mean, you see my sense of style. Or lack of."
Jeans, black boots, black or gray sweaters, black wool peacoat, black tuque. Nick changes clothes every day, the jeans shift in shade from the typical blue of American denim to nearly black to actually black to gray, but for the most part, it's a uniform that doesn't change much.
Toru sticks his tongue out at that for a moment, before moving to lean against a counter again. Sip from the soda, and, "Function over form, homes, that's all I gotta say." He sort of looks around for a moment, sips again, and muses, "Be the doubleyou," by the way, "I don't really like, make a habit of goin' around tellin' everybody who asks about the bone thing, so you can maybe keep that under your hat, right?" He isn't really sure why he told Nick.
For a moment after that he's content to just stand there and drink in manly silence, looking around and nodding on occasion. Yep. Then a thought occurs. "Oh, right, uh. You weren't planning on killing me at any point, right?"
"I'm all about keeping secrets," Nick says gruffly. Except that sometimes he decides to confess them to people who don't need to know — but those are usually his secrets, not any one else's.
The question gets a snort, and Nick tosses the crust of his pizza slice into the trash can. Carbs, dontcha know. "If I were planning on killing you," he says evenly, "you'd be dead."
Eyebrows up again. Awkward~~ After the initial almost surprised reaction, Toru finally clears his throat and nods slowly. "Yeah.. I suppose that adds up." Very vague chuckle. Sipping off his soda for a moment, he leans back against the counter and nods slowly.
"Welp, I guess that means it's okay to sleep with my eyes shut, then," he jokes, setting the can down. "Guess tomorrow I oughtta try and find some way of occupyin' my life that won't get me arrested." A short pause, there. "What do you do, anyways?"
The 'what do you do' question's grown more and more awkward for Nick, since his cover jobs have both fallen by the wayside. "Depends on the day," he says wryly. "Was doin' work for that guy I asked you about, but you saw how he decided to let me know my services were no longer required, yeah? I'd have preferred the typical two-weeks notice."
There's a twitch in his jaw despite the banter that tells Toru Nick is not as over that event on Christmas Eve as he might like to think he is. "And because of that I lost my other job on the docks. Too many missed days, you know? You can't really make a good argument for them when it's mostly because you're unconscious somewhere 'cause of illegal activities. Anyway, I got some shit I do here and there for other people. Enough to scrape by for now. And luckily I paid up the apartment for a bit."
He yawns. "I'm gonna hit the shower. Thanks for the pizza."
"We're kinda in the same boat then," Toru muses. Except that Nick probably isn't on some terrorist watch list and doesn't have to worry about anti-Evo discrimination and— well. Yeah. "Well, if nothin' else, delivery places are pretty much always hirin'," he suggests. "That's pretty much what I do most of the time anymore. It ain't consistent, but it's somethin'."
Twisting about, he picks his soda can back up, shaking it a bit to see how much is left, and nods at that last remark. "I cleaned the bathroom up, kinda. Didn't really wanna sit around bein' useless, y'know?" Vague smile there. "Don't worry about the pizza, you're givin' me crash space."
When Nick comes out of the shower he'll find Toru stretched out on the couch, blanket pulled up almost over his head and sleeping like the tiniest of babies~
The bathroom door opening lets loose billow of steam scented like that evergreen soap he uses, Nick casts a glance at Toru, shaking his head with something of admiration for the ability to fall asleep so fast. For him, the night is too young — insomnia will keep him up for another few hours. He heads to his bed to pick up the novel on his bedside table, flopping down to read a few chapters before finally succumbing to sleep.
