Upstairs, room 1001

[2goodarms]

It's late. Maybe. Late enough for Curtis to dim the lights in his and Edgar's room, anyway; he's been trying to follow the cues of the rest of the building, switching off the lights if he notices they're dimmer downstairs, or turning them on if bright light from the hallway starts to seep under their door.

It feels like controlling the movement of the sun. Controlling some small chunk of the world.

He doesn't know if he likes it.

But if he doesn't do it, it makes the time distortions feel even worse, so he'll just have to suck it the hell up.

The ambient noise on either side of them is all well and good, but hearing another person breathing an arm's length away calms Curtis way more than he expected. While he's not asleep yet, he's blinking drowsily at the ceiling, not much longer for the waking world.

Comments

[dejah_thoris]

She stands and arranges her skirts, following after him. "You do not need to apologize for him." A few steps more and she slips her hand through his arm again, lightly, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

"I did not mean to intrude upon your private living space. In future, I will have the rats send a message, and inquire ahead."

[2goodarms]

Curtis shrugs, smiling a touch. "It's fine," is all he says again.

Private living space. It still feels strange, hearing someone name his and Edgar's room like that. And it's not like knocking on the door -- after Curtis extended an invitation, no less -- is that much of an intrusion.

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah leans in a bit and drops her voice.

"Do you like tea?"

Like she's asking him what color underwear he's wearing.

[2goodarms]

Up go his eyebrows again.

"It's not bad," he says. "I tried Earl Grey. Why?"

[dejah_thoris]

Her smile brightens. "I like the Earl Grey. There are so many to try here. I was just hoping we might take the time to sit, and share a pot. And actually talk to one another."

Her grip on his arm tightens ever so slightly.

[2goodarms]

His own smile grows a fraction. "I'd like that."

Maybe by the time they do, Curtis will figure out what the hell to say about everything else that happened on the train.

They're nearly back to room 1001: close enough that, with the room's thin walls, anyone inside could easily hear their approach.

[hate_gettin_older]

The thin walls might mean that Curtis, if he's paying attention, will hear a quick scuffling noise inside as of somebody hurriedly getting up off a hammock and making for the door. Which opens as they draw level with it.

Edgar's expression, looking out and seeing both of them, is blank.

[dejah_thoris]

"I'd like that, too. Very... much." The smile in her voice dims as she catches sight of the figure in the door. She looks at Edgar with a soft gaze, trepidatious, but not afraid.

"Hello again." She speaks quietly, and dips her chin to the younger man, her eyes closing in a long blink for a moment. "My name is Dejah. I'm a," she glances back to Curtis, "a friend of Curtis's. I believe I owe you an apology."

[2goodarms]

Curtis glances between the two of them. Abruptly mindful of Dejah's arm linked with his own, he draws his away, but stays near her side.

The last thing he needs is to bring this full-circle and have Edgar think there's something going on there.

[hate_gettin_older]

He looks from Dejah to Curtis and back again, and his jaw works slightly.

"My name's Edgar," he says, flat. "I'm a friend of Curtis's."

There's only the faintest emphasis on the word I'm.

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah has faced down twelve-foot-tall, four-armed Thark warlords with bigger chips on their shoulders, Edgar. You do not make her quail in her boots. Her demeanor shifts, becomes formal but not stiff.

She studies his face for a moment. He is so young. So much fire in his body. He will grow to be a formidable warrior someday. That much is readily apparent.

"Edgar. I apologize for my departure, before," she says, her tone even and respectful. "I was not expecting Curtis to be sharing his room with someone. He tells me you two are longtime friends and I must say, I'm glad that you're here for him."

When she speaks, her hand actually extends towards Edgar.

"I know only a little about the train. About the battles you two experienced. I'm glad he has someone to share this bizarre place with. When I arrived, I had only my wits and a few kind souls to guide me. Now that you're here, I hope to be granted the privilege of sharing what I know with you." Again, she gestures from herself to Edgar.

[hate_gettin_older]

He looks ... briefly uncertain, for a moment. Until that uncertainty swiftly hardens over into suspicion.

(The few phrases in the letter that he managed to read are echoing in his mind; now that he's heard her speak, they're in her voice, in her aristocratic accent. You can tell me anything, it said, and I offer my hand to you, and yours in friendship. And four titles underneath the unfamiliar name.)

(What the fuck is Curtis doing with someone like her?)

"Thanks," he says shortly. "But I'm doing fine."

[2goodarms]

Yeah, that's...about how he expected this would go. He's trying not to wince at Dejah's formality; it's exactly the kind of tone and vocabulary that'd send up the hackles of any tail-sectioner, let alone someone with Edgar's temperament.

(And he knows damn well how even a simple friendship between them must look: what the fuck is he doing with someone like her?)

Curtis sighs and steps closer to Edgar. There's no need to speak -- all he does is shoot him a quick, quelling glance. Could be worse, he guesses. Hopefully it won't get worse.

[dejah_thoris]

She is so painfully aware of how different her life has been, how little she knows about their experiences, but she has to try.

"It's all right." She touches her fingertips to Curtis's shoulder. "Edgar. I know you don't know me, and I know you can't tell it just by looking at me, but I am not like the people of your Front. I am from another world. So please... all I ask is that you reserve judgement."

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar's jaw tightens a little as he bites back the urge to knock her hand away from Curtis's shoulder. But that glance from Curtis is enough; he's not going to turn this into a fight. Not now.

He gives a little shrug, instead, and falls back half a pace. "All right."

(It's not very convincing.)

[2goodarms]

Yeah, could be a lot worse. Curtis will take it.

He turns to Dejah, suppressing another sigh. Quiet: "I'll talk to you later, all right?"

He knows Edgar, and he knows Dejah can't say anything that'll crack Edgar's suspicions.

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah meets Curtis's gaze and gives him a look, one sculpted eyebrow raised in silent inquiry.

"I suppose it's too much to ask you to walk me home?"

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar doesn't say anything, but his swift glance up at Curtis says seriously?

[2goodarms]

He catches it from the corner of his eye; yes, seriously, shut up, says the look he tosses back.

"Sure," he says to Dejah.

Her room's not that far away, after all.

[dejah_thoris]

She glances back to Edgar and bends at the knee, her whole body dipping in a slight bow. Turning back to Curtis, she clasps her hands and gives him a slight smile.

"Shall we?"

[2goodarms]

Oh, Christ, he thinks, don't do that.

But all he does is nod before throwing another glance to Edgar. "Be back in a minute."

[hate_gettin_older]

"Yeah," he says, "all right."

And steps back a little further, to give them room.



He tells himself he's not going to touch the letter again, and this time his resolve lasts about thirty seconds.

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah tucks her chin and refrains from tucking her arm through Curtis's, at least until they're out of sight of the apartment.

When she speaks, her voice is pitched low, only for Curtis's ears. "He seems just as surprised to see me as I am to see him."

[2goodarms]

Curtis huffs out a breath.

"Not sure 'surprised' is the word for it," he says.

[dejah_thoris]

"Possessive, perhaps?" She gives him a knowing smirk. "I can't imagine this is the first time you've ever found yourself in high demand."