What's the Deal


brian_icon.gif calvin_icon.gif

Scene Title What's the Deal
Synopsis Boy meets boy, boy tongue kisses boy, boy kidnaps boy and punches him in the (spoilers) when he is not receptive to his interrogative finesse.
Date January 02, 2010

Calvin's Apartment - Chelsea

The disgustingly sweet sound of a sharp crunch is the first thing he will hear..

But the sound will be distorted. While Calvin is free to re-enter the world of the waking he may only do so on one condition. Loaded up on sedatives. Perhaps he could still use his power, but even if he can. It's going to be some sleepy-ass telekinesing. Calvin will find himself waking up a bit groggy. Bit meaning very. He'll be in his bed, in his clothes. Except that the nice heels found in the room are affixed to his feet.

The morning is growing late, Brian is plopping the apple down on the desk as he continues to try going through the laptop. "I've tried every single backstreet boy's birthday there is, Kev." He mentions to his sleeping friend. "Which one are you fucking into?"

Hissing his frustration, the password protected laptop is replaced on the desk. Brian gathers himself and stands, walking over to where Calvin wears the non-password protected heels. Poking at one foot, he hmms thoughtfully. Brian has made himself somewhat at home.

He's brought his own food, laid out clothes here and there. For now he's wearing sweats. Calvin's gun has been disassembled on the floor and the bail of razorwire has been locked in the bathroom. For a long moment, Winters folds his arms and watches the smaller man sleep.

Spread eagle in his coat and a dove grey suit and with high heel shoes a size or two too small (and two or three sizes too large for the average woman) propped up onto his otherwise bare feet, Calvin is slowly — very slowly — coming to. Piano fingers twitch; long, monkey toes splay out. One heel goes tumbling off the end of the bed to hit the wooden floor with a dead thump.

They're nice shoes, really. Black. Close-toed. Pointed. Shiny. Expensive, is the main thing. They look expensive.

Throat clagged dry with dehydration, sedatives and far more sleep than he feels he strictly deserves, Calvin coughs thickly before his eyes roll open, halcyon blue striking against blackish bruising and the tatty tan blankets on his bed. The whole apartment is very brown, actually, in addition to being cramped, claustrophobic and inexplicably stocked with designer clothing some several paygrades above the rent.

Dry blood cracks tacky through the fringe of his beard when he stretches the skin there enough to show his teeth in a wince, pain from head trauma hours and hours delayed after the initial event. He does not try to sit up, just yet. Groggy, disoriented. Etcetera.

"Good morning starshine." Brian greets civilly. "I don't know what cereal you like. So I got honey cheerios and frosted flakes. I figured you would probably at least tolerate one of those. And if you're a real weirdo. I got some instant oatmeal shit." Brian splays his hands out to his sides. "So.. You might be mad at me. I just want to say.. Sorry. I just get so panicky when people get close. I'm not good at relationships see."

He takes a step back to grab at the bag of groceries he had left here. Pulling out a box of cereal he casually flings it at Calvin's feet. "I tend to pistol whip people in intimate situations." He gives a shrug. 'What you gonna do?'. Taking a step forward he lets out a yawn. "Sorry, you might not be a morning person. I'm not. I want to fucking kill people who talk to me in the morning. Sorry if that's you. So.. I was talking to Jolene this morning. She's a piece of work, am I right?"

Tongue pushed thickly out across a bicuspid that feels like it might be loose in his jaw, Calvin collects himself enough to creep backwards into a stilted slouch against the empty section of wall that comprises his headboard. The other heel trips off at some point in the process, glanced after in a hazy sort of way that is not angry so much as it is resigned. Yes very funny. Hah hah. And all.

His dreads are more've a lank mess than usual. Slept on, you know. He's got a hint of gingery shadow coming in around the more artistically defined edges of his beard as well, several shades more homeless than usual when he rolls his eyes over sideways after Brian out from under the low hood of his brows when the name Jolene strikes through the cotton in his brain.

He does not acknowledge the cereal box.

"Figured you wouldn't be too big a fan of her." Brian gives a light smile to the bedridden man. "I realize that putting someone on sedatives isn't the best way to interrogate them." He waves a dismissive hand. "So let's not call this an interrogation. Let's just say. I'm worried about some things. And I want you to ease my mind. Then we can be best friends again." He sounds delighted at that last part.

Going to take a seat on the foot of the bed, he collapses his hands in his lap. "I'm sorry I hit you in the face. I was a little mad you made me get into a car accident." He gives a tiny shrug. "Let's call it even before someone loses an eye."

Breathe in, breathe out.

It's hard to stay focused, when you are as irresponsibly heavily sedated as Calvin happens to be at the moment. His posture is slack and his eyelids are leaden, kohl still smudged in thick 'round the lashes despite some shifting about in his sleep. "You," he says, at length and with great effort, "are an inconvenience. If y'let me go now…" if you let me go…now. What was he going to say? Calvin stares optimistically off at nothing somewhere around the region of four o'clock, if Brian is eleven, "I'll argue in favor of," there's a drowsy 'v' in the of, somehow, "…your insanity defense."

"You're free man." Brian swings his hands around the apartment. "You aint tied up, nothin. You had a wild new years eve. I brought you back all safe and sound. You're still a little doped up from all the shit you took last night. But I'm going to take care of you Calvin. Don't worry." He leans forward to give the man's ankle a firm squeeze. Before smiling lightly, his torso rocks to the right then to the left rapidly.

"If I move around this fast can you see where I'm going. Woooahhh~ Watch out Calvin. Wooooaaah~" The rocking stops. "Anyways. So. How did you meet Nora? There's some gossip I want in on. You guys dating? Crushing? What's the deal?" He asks excitedly.


Tension tries to cord its way up one've Calvin's outstretched legs and falls far short. His right knee crooks into a slight bend and that's about as far as it gets, left ankle left to Brian's devices. The rest of his countenance echoes at a more or less resonant withdrawal, shoulders dipped and expression dimly surly. He doesn't want to talk about Nora.

Also Brian's mock exuberance is making his headache worse, the dull underwater pounding in his skull hard to hear around at times.

His brows narrow ever so slightly. He didn't do much. But it's enough. He should have realized the other night that the Nora cage is not one to be rattled. So he'll leave that one alone. "Sorry." The apology is genuine a little pat given to Calvin's foot. "So Department of Homeland Security." Calvin's wallet is brought up and dangled in front of him. "That's fun."

Brian gives a big smile, placing the wallet down. "Your friend who can see the future knows your in trouble. The lady.. Oh what was that show called.. Something.. Something addition. Oh. Early Edition! You ever see that show? The guy got newspaper from the future and went and saved people. Your friend reminded me of that show. It wasn't that great of a show though. Fun concept but poopie delivery." He smiles broadly at Calvin, leaning back some. "Listen Calvin. I know I'm an inconveninet shmuck that's beneath you. But you and your friends are suspicious as fuck. So I need to know why a bunch of liars are suddenly infesting the groups of people I know. Do you have anything to contribute to this topic?"

Calvin's face down to the roots of his teeth is numb, he's noticing, in uncomfortable contrast with the the throbbing about the rest've his cranium. A rankle at his nose does little to alleviate either, but it does serve to make him look (slightly) more animate in tandem with a dragging pull of one of his hands over into his lap. The bruising blacked in around the high arch of his cheekbone and lower around the line of his jaw do not suit him nearly so much as bare feet do nearer Brian's perch.

"You're the one bein' printed out on wanted posters, mmmuffin." Muffin. Extra slurry emphasis on the muffin. Lots of extra. "S'far as I know, nobody's got any fuckin' reason to lie to you." A vacant shift at his shoulders is kind of like a shrug a slow beat later. "Maybe you're losin' it."

"Maybe I am." It's a little resigned, and possibly a genuine concession that he truly might be losing it. He looks up at the ceiling to consider this prospect. "But I already punched you in the face and drugged you up so I could take advantage of you. So I might as well keep trying~" Leaning forward his knees go onto his elbows.

"See.. You're doing it again! You're lying. Because you said you were the mailman. And I'm pretty sure Homeland Security does not deliver mail anymore. So that was a lie. So now you're lying about lying. Did you go to an academy?" Brian's legs fold up criss cross apple sauce as he surveys the other man. "Okay.. I have never seen myself on a poster… Just computer screens. So. If you see me on a poster on someone's wall. You fucking let me know."

"Why are Nora and Benji over there?" Brian asks, leaning back onto his elbows. "This is the part where you blow me away with candid honesty that I wasn't expecting."

In no position to refute the logic of continuing on just because, Calvin endures persistence without complaint. If he had more energy, he might whine. Or at least shove at Brian with his near foot, bony toes stretched out again ape-like while he tests the coppery dryness in his mouth and tries to swallow some of it down again, long hair in his face and. Most everywhere else, really.

Conveniently, if Brian has the excuse of might as well to keep asking questions, Cal has the excuse of being drugged into near oblivion to take forever to answer selectively in turn. Which is helpful because it gives him some time to try to force himself to think, even if he'd much rather let his eyes close and fall asleep against the wall.

He skips the whole bit about Homeland Security instead, lighting briefly on the academy question with a lazily honest and drawling, "No," before he lists off into the other end of the conversation. The one regarding their mutual friends. "They're afraid, I think," sounds awfully candid for all that it's also given over without the loss of any eyeballs.

"Aren't you?"

Hey it worked and he really is taken aback. Brian's eyes pause in midflight from Calvin's feet to his face. Mulling over the statement he lets out softly, "Yes." Shifting his weight, Brian goes to sit next to Calvin. "I'm the one on wanted posters, right?" And then Brian is laying back, next to Calvin with his hands tucked under his head. Elbow kind of sticking into the weirder guys face.

"It might be the copious amount of drugs talking, but that was a non douche bag answer, Calvin." Brian sounds encouraging. "If you could control your limbs, I would give you a high five." One hand unsnakes from under his head anyways. Going to briefly seize Calvin's wrist. Picking it up, then releasing and giving a little smack of a high five to the palm. "Aren't you afraid? How the hell are you working at Homeland security? Benji was.." Brian's face screws up and for a moment it's as if he's conspiring with a friend rather than interrogating a weird guy with dreads. "I just don't get why you guys are connected."

Brian sits closer, the shitty mattress sinks in under their combined weight and Calvin rolls his eyes under an uneven blink, about as pleased at closer contact as he would be by a cat pissing on his naked floorboards. To Brian's good fortune, the drugs coarsing through his system are just enough to balance irritation out into laconic malaise. The line of his jaw stiffens out slightly. His gingery head lolls away. That's all.

"Probably to do with my massive cajones." Is how. He's working for Homesec, presumably.

He's quiet again for a while after that, plodding slow and steady from one treacherous line of questioning to the next like an ass on a mountain pass: sure-shod as he is cranky and exhausted. Christ, being kidnapped is obnoxious.

"Benji and I worked around each other, 'til he ran. …The rest all knew each other from before." Again there's a sluggish shrug. Disinterested. "You can't honestly think you and your posse are the only ones who've been skipping round having adventures all this time."

Pulling his hands out from under his head, they're linked together over his stomach. He listens quietly, tipping his head back some as he considers what the man has to say. His fingers flex and loosen, tapping idly to make up for the amount of not talking he's doing right now. Listening to other people talk is hard work.

"I hadn't really thought about it." He admits, tilting his head some. "I didn't know there were a bunch of adventure clubs." His eyes roll over to take in Calvin fully. "So.. now you're just popping in all around my 'posse' all of a sudden. Listen man. You kind of.. sort of.. tried to kill me. So forgive me if I don't trust you. How can I be sure your adventure club isn't here to hurt my adventure club?"

"Why the fuck are you here?"

"Yeh, that whole murder thing again," says Calvin, unhelpfully. If he had better use of his hands his inflection would doubtless be accompanied by pretend sign language exaggerated at Brian's expense. "Look, I don't like you, lovie, but I donno what you're talking about. I'm a pretty nice guy."

Especially when heavily sedated.

"I'm here because you fuckin' bodysnatched me." Now he just sounds whiny.

"Damnit. I thought we were still being candid." Brian whines.

A playful pat is delivered to Calvin's shoulder. "Brakes don't just drop off vans, Kev. I know you have magic fingers. I gotta thank you for attacking that Fed the other night. Wouldn't have been able to fuck up the night without you." Brian holds up one finger. "And you know what. You should like me. I'm a totally good friend." Brian adds in. "I think if you just gave me a chance we could have such a great relationship. Playing frisbee out in the park, sitting in a paddle boat together." One hand covers his mouth as he thinks about it.

"We could go spelunking. You ever been spelunking? The cave thing? It sounds awesome. But.. I'm afraid I might be secretly claustrophobic and not have known about it til I went spelunking. That would suck."

"So you've got different friends spread out through the city. Knowing people I know. How many friends you have? Remember, we're still on the candid train. No asshat answers, we all know that you're witty and evasive already."

"Do you?" asks Calvin. Without enthusiasm. The way someone stuck on an airplane next to a chatty five year old who's solved one side of his Rubik's Cube would. Unfortunately there was a lot of stuff in between the point where Brian mentions his magic fingers and the point where he shuts his big flappy face hole, so the implication behind dry inquiry may not be entirely clear.

So tuned out is he by that time that it seems to take him a beat or two to recognize that it's his turn again. Apologetic, almost, in his recognition of the fact that it's been his turn to talk again long enough that his reticence is encroaching upon rudeness. "Oh," he says, if Brian happens to look expectant, or. Even if he doesn't, "Sorry, s'just, it sounds like you already know everything, so —"

"Man. I swear to God. I will start punching you." The threat doesn't sound serious. But maybe it is. "Do you want to get punched? I know you won't feel it. But.. You'll get uglier." Sitting up some he glowers down at the man. "Don't let it be punching time, Calvin. What the fuck are you up to?" Brian places his hands in his laps, watching the other man carefully. The drugs won't last forever.. It might be time to get the hell out soon.

"Not really." Calvin does not look or sound very interested in being punched some more, listlessly drowsy in place of concern for the state of his bone structure. An alternative does brighten his eyes and twitch at his brows though, teeth shown glossy white in an upturned grin where they aren't still stained with an off-red veneer of stale blood. "But you're welcome to suck my dick if y'like."

"Oh Calvin. You're thinking about dick.. I'm thinking about punching.." There's only one way that can go.

A punch to the dick!

Fist connecting down on Calvin's groin, Brian recalls his hand and looks down the man appraisingly. "Well this could have gone better~" Going to stand.

Flexing his hand, he steps around to the foot of the bed. "Seeya Calvi. By the way, your future telling friend is looking for you. So you should probably give them a call. Make sure they all know you're okay~" Winters turns his back to the man. "I'll see you later, mmk?" And with that, he's on his way out.

Teeth bit sharp after a sound that might be normal for something like a ferret or deflating beach ball, Calvin clenches down the length of his spine and navigates his way into a slow, decapitated-rattlesnake roll over himself.


Onto the floor next to his bed. Where he remains at the core of a resonant stir of invisible force that rattles windows and rolls through the apartment's structure after Brian's heels at a low and terrible bass rumble.

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