Rough Around The Edges


devon_icon.gif felix_icon.gif

Scene Title Rough Around the Edges
Synopsis There's some catching up to do for two former safehouse roommates.
Date April 29, 2018

The Bunker

The Lounge

Fel does drink indoors, when the weather's nasty enough to warrant it. So he's sitting in front of the lounge's TV, watching some old nature documentary, and nursing a beer. Dressed in fatigue pants and t-shirt, slouched down in his chair. Though he mostly seems to be daydreaming, by the vagueness of his expression.

There's no conversation about cards this time, or whether or not a certain other Hound cheats, that precedes Devon into the lounge. This time he's on his own. He's dressed to blend in, blue jeans and a hoodie and sneakers. And evidently he was somewhere outside the Bunker, because in one hand he has a small paper sack, like a lunch sack, but obviously lacking any lunchtime goods. He shuffles a step, when the sounds of the television reach him and he spies Felix using the lounge for its intended purpose. But he continues in, giving the older man a grin and a "Hey."

The sounds of someone else have him jerking out of that apparent reverie, but the interruption doesn't seem to bother him much. He glances over his shoulder at Devon, lifts the beer bottle in lazy salute. "Hey," he says, amiably. "Evening. Whatcha got there?" AT least he seems fairly friendly, though he seems to spend a lot of his off-hours in his quarters.

The grin turns a shade mischievous. Devon crosses to the fridge, though he looks over his shoulder to Felix. One brow ticks upward and he opens the bag. "Just some things." Which is a typical answer from the young man, meaning it doesn't answer at all. He reaches into the bag and pulls out an even smaller bag, this one plastic and filled with a dozen or so plastic googly eyes.

"How're you fitting in around here?" Dev leans against the counter beside the fridge, the paper bag is set aside and the plastic one opened.

That's piqued his curiosity, clearly. Felix is a cat, after all. But he doesn't press further, verbally. Not yet, even as he arches a brow. "All right so far," he says. "A lot of paperwork, a lot of sniffing of noses, so to speak. Nothing serious yet." No laments about how very young everyone looks. He's the old coot who decided to sign up, after all.

"Sounds about right." Though Devon himself joined up during the war, his joining was a little different. The protective backing is removed from the backs of a pair of eyes, exposing an adhesive, and the fridge is opened. "Hana's alright, though. Just don't give her reason to be angry. Papa Avi's not bad either. Rough but fair." The eyes are pressed onto a bottle of ketchup as he speaks, and he starts to prep a second pair. "But we're all rough around the edges, I guess. In our own way."

He's paused the TV, in favor of openly watching what Devon's up to. All the better to figure out what he's doing…..and a slow grin blooms as he does. "What makes her angry?" he asks, bluntly. "Or Avi, for that matter?" Papa Avi. Huh. But then….Avi's old enough to be a parental figure for a lot of these younger fighters.

"Probably being stupid," Devon hazards a guess. The next set of eyes are pressed onto a bottle of mustard. "I never tried to get on their bad side. But then, I'm in Amarok so it's probably no surprise when I do something reckless. So long as I don't jeopardize the mission or risk my teammates." He leans forward to look into the fridge, while prepping another set of eyes. "You know what team you're assigned to yet?"

There's a nod from him - Fel doesn't seem in the least disposed to interfere with what Devon's up to. "Keelut, I'm told," he says, in that mild voice. "What do you mean, about it being no surprise in Amarok?" Observing the younger man thoughtfully.

"Rue's team." It's not a surprise, given that Keelut currently has openings. Devon pushes aside some containers of food until he finds a couple of tomatoes. Those are probably being held for the next time burgers are grilled. Right now they're being granted the ability to see. "Amarok? We're the big guns. Diversions, heavy firepower, explosions. I try to keep a fluid plan of action so I can change as circumstances do. So I tend to be on the reckless side more than most."

"What can you tell me about Rue and about the team in general?" He takes a long pull from the beer, still watching Devon stick eyes on the food. With his luck, they'll blame the googly eyes on him. But that's fine.

"Rue seems… fair. Kind've unpredictable at times. But…" Devon shrugs to supplement whatever but may have been. He hasn't worked with her a lot to really know her well, but he doesn't have anything really bad to say either. More eyes are gifted to foodstuffs as he goes on. "Dearing… I really don't know. He's sort've like that uncle that only gets invited to holidays out of obligation."

That has Fel looking musing. "Dearing's not around much, I take it?" he ventures, after another swallow. He's flicked the TV off entirely, for now.

"He's around. Just… He's weird. Not like I'm weird. It's… I don't know." Devon goes quiet for a moment or two while he arranges the sight-gifted foods to be staring at the next person to open the fridge. "The few times I've seen him or talked to him, he just seemed… Not totally right? I mean, we all got questionable pasts, skeletons and all that, but something seems off about him." The door is pushed closed and Dev looks at Felix with a shrug. "Might just be me and not trusting new people too much."

He gazes back at Devon. "No," he says, quietly. "Trust your instincts. They're so very often right, believe me. How does he seem off?"

"If I could explain it, I would." Devon cleans up all the little papers and wrappers, lest he be found out. Everything is swept into the paper bag he'd come in with. "Just something about him."

Fel's always been the nosiest of bastards. And clearly, Devon's piqued his interest. But he pauses, deliberates, and very obviously decides to let it go, for the moment. "What about you? Last I recall we were in that safehouse…."

The bag is folded up and pushed into a back pocket. "Yeah." Devon pushes off the counter and moves to sit in one of the chairs. "I left the house about a week before everyone else, stayed with Harmony until after the two missions when I joined back up with… everyone in Minnesota. Few months later I got involved in the war and joined Wolfhound."

He nods, a little moue of understanding curving his lips. "In from just about the ground up, eh?" No comment about how young Devon was. War's war, teenagers are old enough to kill and to die.

"Weird to think I was barely seventeen when I came to the safehouse." Devon's mouth tugs upward in a grin. "Just barely eighteen when I got involved in the war. Mostly just supply runs at first, and diversions for Graeme and Ygraine's rescue missions. Some fighting, but not much until I joined up with Hana." Just a kid, yet he's still not much more. And it seems like he's accepted that. "How about you? What've you done these last five or something years?"

"Recovered in Florida, mostly. Took care of my parents and healed," he says, softly. "This," A tap of his fingertip to the terrible scar on the side of his head, "Had me damn near crippled. If I hadn't had access to a good Evo healer, I'd still be out of commission." And living in a nursing home in Sarasota, most likely.

"Bad ass scar." Devon leans forward a little, to get a better look without being impolite about it. "Better than any I got. Anyone else know you're here? I talk to Jaiden a few times a month. And Uncle Richard's in the Safe Zone, running Raytech."

Felix shakes his head. "No," he says, simply. "Lost touch with everyone. Parents died, Colette's the closest thing I have left to family or kin, except maybe some cousins in Russia I haven't spoken to in more than thirty years. We fled Russia - defected."

A nod responds first, and Devon sinks and slouches in his chair. "Colette's cool. I'll let the other Chessmen know you're here. If you want, I mean. They'd be glad to know you're alive. The war…" They all lost contact with a lot of people, and some of those people are lost forever. "No pressure, if you don't want anyone to know I won't say anything."

He's ventured out of retirement, now. Elected to make a last play for being part of the world. Part of the body, as the saying goes. "That's fine," Fel says, finally. "I ….may not remember them," he adds, sounding almost sheepish.

"I bet you'll remember." Always the optimist. Devon grins and taps the side of his own head. "Jai still lives out in Minnesota. He used to help keep us supplied with food and stuff though, before, at the safehouse. Uncle Richard was lost in the timeline, he got time traveled… somewhere. By the guys from the future."

A nod from him, but it's a hair vague. Embarassed by the loss, it seems, as if it were another physical disfigurement. But there's no hiding it, no more than there is the scar. Fel's relaxed back into the chair again. "I think I remember Jai."

It doesn't seem to bother Devon if Felix remembers the band of misfits that all lived together in the months before the war. He taps his head again, like he knows that eventually some memory will return in some form or another. "Jai's pretty hard to forget. You'll remember, I bet. Eventually." He pushes out of the chair and tucks his hands into his pockets. "I have a bit of work to see to." And he doesn't want to be in the lounge when the eyes are found. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

A little smile at that, conspiratorial. "OF course," he says, voice mild as milk. "And It very well might come back."

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