IC Contact Post [for savetheearth]

[elfstoned]

Please specify whether it's text, voice or video and the date your message is left!


PERSONAL CELL PHONE: XXX-272-4076

"Aaron Strider. Leave a message."



CLINIC PHONE: XXX-353-7727

"LSR Clinic. Hours are 8AM-10PM weekdays, 10AM-10PM Saturday and Sunday. If this is an emergency, hang up and call 911, or XXX-272-4076. Otherwise, leave your number and a message and your call will be returned tomorrow."

AS OF 2-28-2015, the only way to contact Aaron is through the Network.


NETWORK NUMBER: 43254644263

Comments

[elfstoned]

[He is so far from picky right now. Aaron can handle being dirty, has been dirtier than this, but this is a kind of filth that sticks to him, weighs him down. He wants to wash the past two weeks off along with it.

Aaron gives Julien a nod and disappears.

He'll be in there a while. When he comes out, it's with his hair still wet, pulling on a t-shirt Julien will have never seen before. The clothes are clean enough to be tolerable, if not particularly laundry-fresh.

Aaron wanders deeper into the house, looking for something, somewhere, that he can lie down on.]

[espigeonage]

[There are lounging chairs and some couches he could curl up on, though they're in open, airy empty space and at least partially taken up by a variety of cats, who are ruining the aesthetic. And scratching on the wooden anime robot. Some kind of super-Roomba is noisily handling a recent puke.

Julien's white and blue fit in pretty well in the kitchen. He's made some kind of lentil soup and bit some athelas into a different boiling pot. Now he sticks his head out as Aaron passes the doorway, bits of green still stuck in his beak.]

If you want to go sleep I'll get this in the fridge. Just uh... you can try there, the canopy curtains will keep it dark.

[He comes out the rest of the way, considering - yes, sure. In slightly awkward Sindarin:] Here it is safe. Rest. I will guard.

[elfstoned]

[....Aaron, if asked, wouldn't know if it's the athelas or the food or the Sindarin or the sleep-dep, but something about all of it drains the last of his energy from him. His eyes sting; he passes a hand over his forehead.]

You did not have to do this. This was not asked of you, but I am grateful.

[espigeonage]

[The feathers on Julien's head and neck fluff up in an affectionate 'expression', and he has to pause to decide what to say, how to say it.

Okay, just a little bit of snark, though there's nothing insincere about it. What was the right way to say... got it.]

I love you too. Rest.

[elfstoned]

[All the fight's gone out of him. Aaron goes where Julien pointed, and it's not thirty seconds before his breathing changes, turns shallow.

He won't wake up until tomorrow morning.]

[espigeonage]

[An hour in Julien checks on him and spends some time measuring and evaluating Aaron's changes with his eyes, and staring at the changed, familiar face like a total creeper before easing the blanket over him and leaving, closing the door in an attempt to keep the cats out.

He's not glad this happened, but he's glad Aaron came here off the streets, and it is good to provide and care for someone again. He feels like he hasn't done that in a long time.]

[elfstoned]

[okay, Edbird Cullen, watch him while he sleeps, whatever

When he finally wakes up properly in the late morning, he nearly doesn't get up. At first, he rests an arm over his eyes and thinks very hard about just staying where he is.

If he were any less hungry, he might have stayed there another few hours, but further delay cannot be borne.

Slowly, ponderously, Aaron stands, running a hand through his too-long hair. Now that it's clean and dry, the gray in it is much more obvious. He makes his way into the kitchen with heavy steps, and drinks an entire glass of water in about ten seconds. Then, he goes to the refrigerator, and starts fishing around for the soup he thinks he remembers from yesterday. There's still not much energy in it -- he's moving automatically, ungracefully.]

[espigeonage]

[He learned from the best okay.]

That one's waffle batter. You want the square one, for soup.

[Julien's come up behind him, not too close in case of Aaron startling.]

Go microwave that. I'm making waffles, whether you want any or not. Should I put the kettle on again?

[elfstoned]

[What exactly are you implying, watching people sleep is part of his job

Aaron is surprised -- Julien moves damn near silently -- but he recovers quickly and shakes his head.]

That won't be necessary. I'll be fine.

[His hand closes around the right container, and then he makes his way to the microwave. Eye contact is at a minimum.]

[espigeonage]

[Now it's just a hobby.]

Let me know if you change your mind.

[Giving him space, Julien gets to pouring the waffle batter into the right implement, talking absently as if to himself. Listen or don't.] Made this up earlier, but I could use a second breakfast.

[elfstoned]

Mmm.

[The microwave is set, and the wait is excruciating. Aaron's jaw is set, his hand restless on the countertop, but he's not fidgeting as much as he might otherwise be, if he were this hungry.

He's still moving more slowly than not when he takes it out. Aaron is going to sit down, test the temperature with his tongue, and decide that it's not too hot to drink. Right out of the container.

Fuck spoons. Ain't nobody got time for that.]

[espigeonage]

[Julien decides to save his comment - wow, I thought I was the only one who drinks like that now - for some later time. It looks less hygenic when Aaron does it. The facial hair, no doubt.

There are less trivial things he wants to say, but he doesn't know if now is a good time. What he can do that probably is in good time is be here. Provide.

The first waffle is done. Julien tips that on a plate, steaming and banana-y, then pins most of it down with a fork so he can tear off one of the quarters with his beak and shove the plate down the counter at Aaron. He holds his quarter while pouring more batter, then drops it on another plate and eats it in an uncivilized manner. No butter or toppings at all. Also, pinning it with a thumb and tearing chunks off to gulp down.

Silverware is hard.]

[elfstoned]

[Silverware doesn't goddamn matter. Aaron looks at the waffle. He doesn't hesitate long -- he's been smelling it for the last few minutes, and it would take more willpower than he has right now to refuse it.

He'll tear pieces off and eat it by hand. Eating food is more important than being civilized.

When the soup and waffle are done, Aaron sits back in the chair, letting out a long breath. He feels about 75% more like an actual living person now.]

Morning.

...is it morning?

[espigeonage]

Ten ack-emma, or so. You were out for fifteen hours. [a novel he knows Aaron has read had a hard-bitten police chief use 'ack-emma' for "a.m".

The second waffle came out a bit ago, a little burnt where the banana mixed in disagreed with the metal. Julien has also brought out a blenderized mush of strawberries.]

You want this? There's butter and stuff if you don't like them with fruit. And stick the soup thing in the sink, will you? There is a dishwasher, thank God.

[elfstoned]

[There are a lot of things that occur to Aaron, that maybe another time he might have said. Of course there's a dishwasher, is one, so high-tech it can probably think for itself.

That looks delicious, is another one. Did you make it?

But they all get lost, somewhere along the way. They lose steam and fall by the wayside. Making them come out is too much, right now. It would be forced. Aaron doesn't want to force normal right now. What he actually does is give a nod of assent, and say:]

Fifteen hours. Feels like a week.

[espigeonage]

Here. Next one's mine though.

[Julien trains the eye on that side of his head on Aaron, the pupil large and open. What should he say? He wants to help. How can he do this, without overshadowing Aaron's issues with his own? It's not a competition, who has it worse.

Well, there's a practical thing first.]

The house is safe. No one's even paused in sight of the gate. You can be here as long as you need. I'll look out for you.

[elfstoned]

[.....this one, he'll get silverware out for. He can slow down enough for a knife and fork. Aaron gets up and gets it -- and washes his face while he's up. God, he doesn't like having this stubble on his face, but he knows better than to try to shave it off. The less like him he looks, the better.]

That's good.

...

Thank you. I mean it.

[espigeonage]

Coffee? Tea? I just want milk. [Julien hasn't found many cups that suit his needs, wide ones that aren't too high, so he can get his beak well into them and not leave an inch and a half on the bottom. They do exist though. He gets one down and looks back along his own length at Aaron.]

Hey, do you need me to switch to Sindarin again and tell you you're my friend, and I can't turn my back on you? I will, you know.

[elfstoned]

[...he half-laughs.]

I think I got the message.

....coffee'd be nice, if you don't mind.

[espigeonage]

It's no trouble, there's a Keurig. [He goes and sets it up. The coffee here tends towards strong. Julien remembers how Aaron likes it.]


Woke up and gone 'I hoped it was a dream' yet?

[elfstoned]

Once, so far.

[He shakes his head.]

I've never actually been wanted by the police before. I knew it was a possibility, but...deep down, I think, I thought it would never happen. Even with everything I did, I thought I would be clever enough, careful enough, to avoid trouble.

[espigeonage]

It worked for a while. Years.

[Julien buries his beak in a glass of milk and drinks a third of it in a few swallows. He raises his head carefully, so it drips back down into the glass and not onto his chest or the floor.]

'The best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry, and leave us naught but grief and pain for promised joy.' Yeah... It's hard, I know! Is there anyone you want to contact who'll keep quiet? Your mom?

[He knows a couple years ago she had some kind of trouble, and Aaron went to her.]

[elfstoned]

[(fuck, this waffle is delicious. it is a little thing, compared to everything else, but it is really nice.)

There's a split second where he thinks about not telling Gillian. It's local news. Maybe it won't reach her on the west coast. Maybe she didn't need to know. Maybe it would frighten her --

Then, he has to let out a short, sharp laugh -- at himself. He shakes his head -- what a stupid thing to think.]

I should let her know. Better that she hears it from me, and not the rest of her family.

[He blows out a breath. They'll have a few things to say when they find out.]

I wouldn't put it past them to tell her.

[espigeonage]

[Julien worked at a breakfast place once. He's good with waffles. Speaking of here's the next one, and he dithers considering if he wants to cut it up or just tear chunks off. Using a knife is much harder than spearing things with an oversized fork. Let's see, there's a bagel slicer...

Aaron's family is one of those topics Julien knows nothing about, beyond a trace about his mother, and some of the situation with Elliot. He doesn't like to probe into topics others are reluctant to discuss.]

You left your phone behind, right? Would it be better to get like a burner, or would it be safe to use like the... they don't have an actual landline here, but there's a computer thing that works the same way.

[elfstoned]

[Of course he did. He's helped people disappear before. Julien would know that -- people in trouble, people in trouble with gangs, people in trouble with romantic partners. It didn't happen often, but over the years, Aaron Strider has made maybe a dozen people legally dead.]

I wouldn't risk the computer. I know a public phone I can call her from.

[That would involve leaving the house, though. Aaron looks thoughtful, drumming his fingers on the desk.]