hadriel_logs | closed; I think we'd better listen to these kids

Entry tags:

closed; I think we'd better listen to these kids

Who: Ignis, Richie, Eddie
What: It's totally not being worried about the Null if you call it a sleepover, right?
Where: Ignis' pad
When: Backdated to nov. 2nd
Warnings: Standard warning for Richie's inappropriateness

[ It sucks. This sucks--he can't help but think Bill would have a better plan, or Mike would have some words fo wisdom, or Beverly would come in swinging, but it's just them. It's Eddie and Richie, Kaspbrak and Tozier, and he's glad his best friend is here but he can't help but feel like the Door dragged the two out of all of them that absolutely aren't equipped for anything, let alone a witch hunt.

So he stays awake, and he refuses to ask for help, but when Eddie konks out and he feels his own energy slipping he finally sends a text. Sure, he could grab Kyna, or Brennan, but there's a weird part of him that doesn't want to rely on them. Like he'd be too much trouble.

Then again, Richie's always trouble. He settles instead for Mr. Parakeet, simply because he's the closest. After a few texts--texting, that's crazy futuristic--he sets up from his spot on the floor near Eddie's bed, looks down at his softly snoring friend, and clears his throat.

Nothing. Richie sighs, grabs him by the shoulders, and starts shaking. ]

Up! Up! Up and tally-ho my good fellow, and once more unto the breach!

[ Don't ask questions, just get up, Eddie! ]

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[ Everything is messed up in this place and Eddie has the sinking suspicion that things are never normal in it to begin with. That the things that are going on now are just the things that happen day in day out and that's before taking the surroundings into consideration. It's exhausting to say the least.

Eddie knows he should have just kept his mouth shut yet some part of him had simply had enough. He'd trawled through all that grey water, taken on some killer demon clown, he wasn't going to take that post sitting down. Now he's on a hit list and it's just another layer of shit on top of the current woes.

He's not going to beat himself up over it too much; if he'd said nothing, Richie would have and Eddie would have been on the list moments later undoubtedly. Instead he simply tries to keep watch, eventually dozing off for his efforts. Eddie knows deep down that they'd be better off with the others around them - Bill was always good coming up with plans of action. They just have to make do and Eddie is still relieved he at least has Richie, though when Richie wakes him up he's not so amicable or showing said relief. No, the other gets a sleepy scowl and a sigh.]

I don't want to hear the British guy, Richie. And what do you mean unto the breach? [ Despite his questions, Eddie is getting up and ready to follow.]

C'mon, c'mon! [ Stay chipper, stay obnoxious: that's Richie's motto. At least, it's closer to just 'stay obnoxious,' but that's not the point. He's shakking the other again, this time just for the hell of it. ]

Up! We'll grab things later, put on your shoes!

[ And without further adieu, he's dragging Eddie, protests and all, out of bed and barely biting back a yawn. Down they go, right up to the apartment next to them, and Richie does his best to wink at his friend.

He winds up just sort of wincing, but he tried. ]

We're gonna relocate. [ Knock knock, ignis. ]

[He knew they were coming, but true to the word he had given to Richie he manages to look suitably surprised to see them when he opens the door. When he had first received Richie's text he had been in the middle of cooking something, and he hadn't let the prospect of somewhat immediate company stop him from continuing that.]

Eddie. Richie. [A small nod to each, his arms loosely folded and fingers curled around his elbows.]

To what do I owe the pleasure?

[ The shaking is enough to slowly pull Eddie from his sleepy state and he gets a single moment to rub his eyes and yawn before he's being tugged out of the room. There's barely even a second to get his sneakers on, though lacing them up is obviously for idiots that have all the time in the world it seems.]

Wait, where — [ Eddie can't even finish his question; Richie is already knocking on the door and when Ignis answers everything makes sense (or some kind of).]

Um. [ Wow this guy sounds the same as he types and Eddie throws Richie a glance. He started this, he can answer the question. Please not the British guy.....]

[ Oh, fuck, he's got a weird British accent. It's simultaneously surprising and not surprising at all, and Richie think almost as quickly as his mouth moves.

Just not quick enough to stop the very bad british accent. ]

Good sport! I'm here to collect my debt! You promised a night at your much comfier beds, eh, what? Pip-pip, we're here to do just that!

[He's... really going to put that down to Richie being thirteen, very tired, and possibly nervous. Ignis eyebrows lift up a fraction, he gives Eddie a glance, then nods and steps back to allow them both inside.]

Very well.

[There's the vague smell of food in the place, coming from two pans - one covered, one not - on the stove in the kitchen. Otherwise, the place is impeccably tidy... as you might expect.]

There is only the one bedroom, but I trust you can manage the sleeping arrangements between yourselves. I shall remain out here.

Richie that is the shittiest accent, just so you know. The shittiest.

[ Someone is definitely awake now and the look Eddie throws Richie could curdle milk. Really, they are here asking for some kind of help and the other is just torturing Ignis with some really bad voices. Surely Richie will grow out of it one day and Eddie can't wait for that.]

Thank you. [ Thankfully Eddie remembers his manners, though he can't stop his stomach from gurgling loudly when he catches the smell of something cooking. Shit, time to distract away from the fact his stomach is trying to make contact.] We can manage sleeping arrangements too. I call dibs on the couch.

You're the shittiest. [ Mature. Richie would probably have a huge zinger if he wasn't so exhausted, and he tries his best to shoot a subtle, thankful smile in Ignis' direction. It doesn't go very well--Richie has never been subtle--but the attempt was made. ]

Wait--no, bullshit, I'm on the couch, you get the floor. You've been sleeping all this time!

Gentlemen.

[It's that voice again, not raised above its usual volume but utterly firm. He makes a small gesture to indicate that they should come inside the bloody apartment, and follows it up with a gentle hand against the back of Richie's shoulders. Catch one and the other follows, it seems.

Once they're both out of the corridor, he shuts the door behind them and makes his way back to the kitchen with long strides. A cloud of steam billows up from the covered pot as he lifts the lid to check it.]

Have the both of you eaten today?

[ Oh, God. he's never heard that tone of voice before in his world and not used on him, so he snaps his mouth shut with an audible gnash of teeth, and watches the older man carefully before they're both practically herded inside.

He can't stop grinning after that--either it's the pat on his back or the fact that Eddie doesn't know he's this worried about him or--- ]

Holy fuck what is that smell?!

[ He's absently answering his question as he makes his way to the covered pot, stomach growling audibly. ]

I'm not sleeping on the floor, you can sleep on the floor. Anyway you snore and you — [ Whatever Eddie is going to say stops before it's uttered out loud the moment he hears that tone of voice from Ignis. Just like Richie he closes his mouth and allows himself to be moved inside, already looking around the room with blatant curiosity.

It's cleaner than their place by a country mile. The smell of cooking draws Eddie towards the kitchen area, stomach still rumbling as he tries to figure out what's cooking. It smells divine; they've both barely managed and even if they could cook Eddie gets the feeling it wouldn't hold a candle to what Ignis was cooking right now.]

Shit, it smells good. No, we haven't eaten. I was sleeping, so....[ Eddie can't help but shoot Richie a hopeful look. Were they about to score some food???]

[Ignis hums quietly, an amused smile on his lips as the boys inevitably crowd around the cooking. There is always something pleasant about making food for other people, purely for the reactions that it gets.]

While I can't say that the ingredients, in appearance, match up to what they taste like... I dare say it should be more than acceptable.

[It looks a little odd, given Hadriel's peculiar ability to produce things that taste like other things, and Ignis hasn't touched any meat here since he read the guide (and a good thing, too) but hasn't found the variety to be too lacking.]

It should be done shortly, and there should be enough for the both of you. [He can have something else later, content enough to put the boys first.] You can sit, or observe.

I wanna watch. [ Richie's mouth moves faster than his mind--surprise--and he looks at the pot with absolute envy. Sure, they dealt with cans so far, but it had practically been a wrestling match with a can of ravioli the other day.

Hadriel Chef Boyardee, 1. Richie Tozier, 0. He'd cut himself on the lip of the can, somehow. But hey, he and Eddie ate. It's not like Eddie doesn't get anything other than sugar and snack food anyway, and Richie's diet isn't much better at home.

His mom makes good meatloaf, though. Even if she ignores him. ]

Thanks, Igloo. You're the best. A real twelve-pointer. A real decently dedicated dude. A real--

[ Please stop him, Eddie, he's going to keep going. ]

Edited 2017-11-20 16:22 (UTC)

[ Eddie can feel his eyebrows raising high when Richie announces he wants to watch Ignis cooking. It's no unheard of for things to ping the other's attention, though Eddie would never have put cooking down as one of those things. Then again, it did smell really good and if hovering nearby and watching meant it cooked faster then he is all for it.

(The can cut had been horrible, if only because it was using up limited band aid supplies.)

Igloo gets Richie an nudge to the ribs if he's not fast enough to avoid it.]

ANYWAY. Is there meat in that? Cause I heard that the meat here had people in it and it wasn't clear if there's not people in there anymore, it didn't say on the thing that we got when we arrived.

[He notices the - ehem - nickname, but doesn't react to it outwardly. Children will be children, in matters such as that, and a name hardly did any harm when it wasn't used to be cruel.]

Unfortunately, it isn't something that we can ever be certain of.

[Ignis gives the vegetables cooking another stir. The broth they're stewing in is a vibrant yellow, like saffron.] But there's no danger of accidental cannibalism here. I haven't been using meat in my cooking since I arrived.

[The idea that it might be people is offputting enough.]

And I shan't, unless I know where it came from.

Tuesday is Soylent Green day. [ You bet your button he snuck into a theatre to watch a rescreening of that on halloween. But this is gross, and while he normally wouldn't mind that he's freaking starving and defnitely doesn't want to talk about cannibals. Instead, he holds an invisible microphone like a news reporter and puts on an old timey 1920s voice: ]

What we have herer is the scandal of the century! A true artist unable to work with all his paints and brushes, limited to his own wits! Will our dashing hero prevail making whatever-it-is? Will his brave compatriots enjoy what's probably not actually lettuce? Tune in next time for Igloo's cooking corner!

[ No burgers, no hot dogs, no meat. The thought of it is pretty horrifying really. Sure, vegetables and fruits are good for you and all, but Eddie knows deep down he's going to miss eating meat in the end.]

That's good enough for me.

[ The soup smells divine and the colour of it is intriguing enough that Eddie almost misses the start of Richie's spiel. He at least lets the other get to the end of it, mentally scoring the nickname Igloo before deigning it "not as good as the others".]

Richie, that wasn't even good. If you keep doing that he's not going to feed us.

[It would have to be good enough for them both, and he had enough faith in his abilities to be certain that they wouldn't even miss the meat.]

I have been called things far worse, by people who meant far more harm to me than you do. [He tells them calmly. It isn't that he particularly likes getting strange nicknames, but there are definitely more unpleasant things to be called.]

So, don't worry about being fed.

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closed; I think we'd better listen to these kids

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