3/24/2003

12:52 AM

Logfile from Tomite.

 

The Berkley Apartments - 302

Clearly, apartment 302 is a bachelor's land that knows no womanly touch. While the apartment is clean, even immaculate, it's hard to mistake the gender preferences of the decor. The main room is painted a neutral creme color with a tan border that displays many different kinds of fish around the world; On the walls, glass-windowed storage cabinets hold poles, tack and bridle for horses, nets, ropes, and any number of bestiary-related clutter, most of which can't possibly be of any use in the city. Tools hang on a cork board on the far wall, ranging from different gauges of wire to a welding torch. Contrastingly, the kitchen is decked out in warm shades of red and white, with an expansive spice set and expensive cutlery visible among the otherwise immaculate countertops. Stranger yet is the complete absence of electronics; No clock, TV, radio, or telephone grace the entire apartment, and both the table and the massive bed that sits in the bedroom seem handmade, if awkwardly so.

Obvious exits:

Exit

 

John is seated on the couch, curled up with a book. Him being, well, himself, he takes up the /whole/ couch when he puts his legs up on it, and he seems to be enjoying some time between shifts.

 

*BANG* Yep, Chase is home. The boy comes flying through the door, kicking it shut behind him, drops the bag upon the floor and then continues right on towards the kitchen where the sound of running water can be heard. Next... yes, that would be singing. He is singing something heard from some radio sometime today, and it is still stuck in his head. *rummage-rummage* Food.

 

John startles, dropping his book and knocking his drink onto the floor.  This is taking some getting used to, to say the least.  Placing a hand to his chest, he takes a moment to catch his breath.  "...Hello, Chase." He rumbles, as soon as he's calmed his nerves.

 

Chase is returning a moment later, an apple in his hand. No matter how much candy he gives Anana, he hardly eats any himself. Natural stuff is always the best. The teenager launches himself over one of the chairs in the room from behind, only to plop down into it, one leg dangling over the arm. "Hey, John. What's up?"

 

John tries not to have another heart attack, but he again drops the glass he'd just collected. Grimacing, he goes to get a rag. It's not like his furniture can't take the abuse, but.. "...Not much." He manages, dabbing at the carpet with a towel. Lucky for him it's a dark color, because he was drinking grape juice.  "Yourself?"?

 

Say now, if they can support John, then can take a kid of Chase's much smaller size. "Pretty good." He eyes John and his dabbing, "Uh. You know, my mom always made us eat and stuff in the kitchen so we wouldn't spill on the floor. You might want to consider that." And then the boy bites into the apple to chew lazily.

 

John rubs at his face a moment.  For a moment, he's tempted to mention that he never spills anything on his own, but snapping just isn't appropriate, he decides.  "Um.  Good idea." He mumbles, noncomitally.  He eyes the apple, then arches a bushy eyebrow. "How are the rest?" 

Clearly, Tomite can make him useful by keeping John in contact, here.

Chase chews away, gaze still steady upon John. "What?" Another bite followed by more chewing. "The rest? Oh, I was planning on going down and seeing Brice, but got distracted. He's probably studying or something. Haven't seen anyone else."

 

John sighs, fetching another glass of juice for himself with a sturdy grimace.  This will take even more time to adjust to than he thought.  "Does anyone know our plans from here?" He murmurs, almost to himself, and not expecting much of an answer.

 

Chase isn't known for being a pain in the neck for nothing. "What plans? You mean with the scroll?" He is shrugging his shoulders negligently, "I haven't a clue. That's what people like Suna and Anana are for, and I haven't seen either one lately. If they suddenly get a brain storm over what is going to happen next, I'm sure they'll tell us."

 

John stifles a sigh, re-seats himself, and picks up his book.  "Allright."  Well, that's about tapped him out for conversational topics!  Damn his akwardness.  He buries his nose in the book and hopes Chase'll not think him rude.

 

Chase remains draped over his chair, still chewing at the apple. *crunch-crunch-crunch* His head lolls back to stare at the ceiling. More chomping and chewing. Foot idly kicks, fingers pick at the seam in the upholstery of the chair, he shifts about. Shifts again. Bored. "What are you doing?"

 

John startles again, wincing.  "Erm.  Ah. Yes.  Reading." He manages, rubbing his forehead. "I am.. No longer used to having others around. I am sorry if I'm not social."  Not that he's offering to change, mind you.

 

Chase shifts again on the seat, leaning over the arm to peer closer at John and the... book. "No, don't apologize. Sure, it's been awhile. Maybe I should call Kourin here soon and see if we can't have that poker game here. Then you can get into the hang of socializing more."

 

John just gapes for a moment, trying to figure out if it's some ungodly cruel joke.  After a moment, he realizes that Chase probably means well.  "I don't do well with people, Chase." He repeats, hands balling quietly into fists. "I would prefer if it was held when I am not at home."

 

Chase blinks at John for a long moment, mostly in confusion. "No? We'll save a spot for you. Are you any good at poker? Maybe Kourin will bring over food." He sighs though, slumping back, "But if you'd be uncomfortable, I suppose we could do it somewhere else. I don't want to put you out or anything."

 

John inahles with a deep-throated rumble, going white-knuckled. "I. Do. Not. Enjoy. The. Company. Of. People." He grates, forcing each word out.  "I need to be alone.  You're one of my fellow seishi and that's different. But I don't want company, I don't want to meet new people, and I don't want misplaced social pity!"  He manages to restrain himself from yelling, but sounds positively strangled as a result.

 

Chase is blinking at John, and then blinking some more. "Uhm... John?" Half-eaten apple is held in his hand loosely as he looks over to the man, "Sorry. I wasn't trying to give you pity or anything. I just... we'll do it somewhere else. I apologize." Yes, the boy is looking troubled now. "Sorry."

 

John exhales again, nostrils flaring, as he glances away with a mortified look. "I am the one who is sorry. It is a sore spot with me.  Please forgive my faux pas."  He closes his eyes to collect himself for a long moment.

 

Chase silently slips off of the chair, only to move over to perch upon the other end of the sofa John is seated on. He reaches up to toss off the ballcap in the general direction of his room. "Hey, don't worry about it, big guy. We all have our... problems."

 

John places his hand on his knees.  "Most people can stand resteraunts and people." He murmurs dejectedly.  "Me, I'm content to be a prisoner to myself.  I'm very inflexible. I can't change much."  He manages an apologetic smile. "At least I'm not stuck at sixteen, huh?"

 

Chase is, yes, recalling the time when Inami fled the Hard Rock. "So you don't like social gatherings, we can work with that. Or not. I'm not going to try to change you or anything, John. But, I'm telling you, sometime you really need to sit down and watch my soap opera with me. If you want to see some really screwed up people..."  He smirks at that last bit though, but doesn't respond.

 

John bristles all over again. "I don't watch television anymore. I don't listen to music, I don't drive, and a number of other things.  It used to be a great deal worse at first." He murmurs, scrubbing at his whiskers and giving in, going over, and picking up Chase's ballcap so he can hang it up in it's proper place.  "But I think I've made as much progress as I can.  I work in a bar, I can stand a drink on occasion."

 

"Have you ever thought about therapy?" Chase suggests lightly, not looking at John any more but is back to admiring his apple. "Everyone in this city seems to be all gung-ho about that stuff. Talking out your whatever to some licensed therapist." He is sliding off the arm to finally sit normally upon the sofa. "Oooorrrrrr," he drags out, "you could just talk to me about it. I'm here for you, big guy."

 

John smiles dryly. "This is after therapy.  At first I woudln't talk and had panic attacks at just about everything." He rumbles, looking up at the ceiling.  "It's nice of you, Chase, but I'm not one of those people that is helped by talking about things. I'm okay like this. My life is predictable enough and simple enough, other than my duty as a seishi.  My memories helps me deal with those."

 

Chase continues to watch John, sighing softly and then shrugging his shoulders. "If you think so... I won't pry or anything. If you are comfortable this way, then... whatever. But, you know, if you ever get the need to -well, get all wild and actually talk about something, you can talk at me. Or bounce stuff off me -not literally, mind you, but I'm sure you get the gist. Good?"

 

John snorts. "Comfortable?  No.  Functioning? Yes. "  He manages some amusement, steepling his fingers. "Now, I could bounce you around, if you really want to offer." He comments, amusement turning into a wry grin.  "Well, until you got your quiver anyways.  I'm okay with this lifestyle. I was a preist after everyone else was dead, you might remember.  This is just.. A somewhat modified version."

 

Chase flickers John a wry grin. "No, no need for bouncing. But I'm sure that image will make you smile now and again." He rolls his eyes before continuing, and muttering, "My memories about half that stuff are so damn fuzzy..." Free hand reaches up to rub at his head, before he is glancing back to John, "How am I supposed to remember how much long after? I was dead." And hanging out in a mountain temple for way, way too long.

 

John shakes his head, smile fading.  "Even if I felt I was lonely, I always knew you two were in for a much longer run of solitude than I was.  I very much respect and admire you both... I'm told it was the Suzaku who found you, long after even I was dust."  He takes a sip of his drink to clear his palate.  "Must not be worth remembering, then."

 

Chase is sighing once more, flickering John a wary glance. "Yeah, well... Well, it was duty, and more... And... And-" Oh, he mentioned the Suzaku, so here comes the scowl. "Idiots. Two hundred years and they can't even take one step outside the damn temple and..." Must not grumble. He takes a moment to clear his throat, "I was hoping some of that time in Hokkan would clear up some of my fuzzy parts, but it didn't. Although maybe if we were there longer..."

 

John shrugs absently, with a dry chuckle. "Might not be worth remembering if the Suzaku are any indication." He almost-teases.  "Anyways, the heart seems to be int he right place, but they lack, hm, common sense if you will."

 

Chase swore to himself he wouldn't go off on the Suzaku if they were ever mentioned. So the boy grits his teeth, draws in a couple of long breaths, and then remarks, "Common sense? Lacking it? That is about the biggest understatement I have ever heard. Of the things I actually remember well, those dumbasses are unfortunately high on that list." He grumps, pushing up off of the sofa and start for him room, but not before taking up his pack as he does. "Stupid, idiot, moron..."

 

John grins slyly. "Suzaku no miko had many things to say on your behavior as well." He intimates, standing to put away the glass and re-shelve his book.  "When she heard I was a Genbu, she nearly decked me. Seems one of us told her to get naked."  To which he finds no end of amusement.

 

Chase hesitates before the door, and actually winces, "Well, what else was there to do in there? You have to get your entertainment where you can... and I can't believe she actually fell for it." Okay, now that provoked a snicker. "When all you have is Brice to talk to all day... can you blame me?"

 

John folds his arms across his chest. "Of course I can blame you. That is easy enough, as you are yourself." He answers, with a wry chuckle. "At any rate, she seemed less than amused about a lewd joke at her expense.  I would've subjected you to quite a sermon if I had still been alive at the time.  If only because I couldn't throw your ghostly hind-end."

 

Chase groans. It is something of a whining groan, as if he simply cannot get a break, and deliberately dramatic at that. "Yeeeees, dad. But first you would have had to catch me, ghost or not." He offers John a puckish grin, and then ducks into his room -quickly followed by the sounds of a television.

 

John ever-patiently places the pair of earplugs he purchased the other day in his ears, and lumbers off to his own room for some more reading.