026 》sweet troubled man are you giving or taking?

[thering]

characters: Malcolm, Neal, Negan, Raylan, Doc
location: 1306 Phillips Dr
date/time: day 26 morning
content: the reset Playstation button was pressed
warnings: tbd

After the strangeness of the past two nights they were likely fully expecting to awaken in the same strange, different, not-so-new anymore places they found themselves in in the past two days.

Instead everything seems to have reset, again. The three permanent residents and two guests are back in 1306, exactly where they had been two nights ago. Malcolm was in his own room, Neal was in Doc's and Negan in Raylan's master bedroom. The two displaced cowboys are downstairs sharing one too-small couch, a night of drinking culminating in fighting over couch space and who gets to be the bigger spoon.

The fire in the fireplace had gone out and their Winter 2020 Collection of bespoke lanterns have vanished, but nothing else seems to be awry.

Comments

[tinstar]

The whiskey of the Mystery Mansion had been good whiskey, and Raylan had fallen asleep in a comfortable, familiar drunkenness that beat everything else away. Of course he'd expected to wake up in the same place he had the two sleeps before, but this morning, he was apparently he was fighting someone for space.

"I can't move over any more than I am," he tiredly grumbled into an ear that his brain said had to be Winona's for some reason and he sighed as he settled back in, arm tucked tightly around a.. waist that suddenly struck as too thick to be Winona's. "The hell?" he asked with an inhale of a breath, waking up a little more to peer blearily at Doc. "Doc?"

To his credit, he didn't pull back or shove Doc off the couch once he realized who he was tucked up so intimately next to.

- Later

After some coffee had been made and passed around, Raylan decided to start breakfast. He didn't know what had happened and there was no doubt that a rousing conversation about just that would happen sooner or later, but he knew that he was hungry, and that most of the stomachs in the house would be too.

Eggs and pancakes, comin' right up.

Twenty minutes later, Raylan is standing over a stove in his undershirt and bare feet with a tea towel over his shoulder as he flips a pancake to reveal a golden brown side. He knew the smell would waft through the house and hoped that that alone would summon some of the housemates and guests up from their beds.

- Later

[abrightboy]

Malcolm lingered in the kitchen. He'd busied himself with keeping the coffee full, sipping his own mug, pacing around the island in an effort that didn't succeed at mitigating his fidgeting.

"Do you need help with anything?" Malcolm asked after making himself turn his attention from Raylan's back to his own coffee cup.

[tinstar]

"You could start the eggs if you wanted. I figured the pancakes take longer so I'd start with them," he said with a tired little lift of his lips in an attempt of a smile that failed the mark a little. The hangover that had threatened him at the start of his morning was in full force and he couldn't do much about it.

"Did you get some sleep before wakin' up this mornin'? I got questions but I figure most of them can wait til we're all.. fully functional."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm's expression crumpled slightly.

"Sleep. No. No, it wasn't.... um." He put his coffee cup down on the island as his hand started shaking more violently. "I had a little. Episode. The first night. I don't think I was asleep but. I couldn't risk a night terror after that. With no restraints. I think I almost took Negan's head off with a fireplace poker."

[thering]

So it seems Doc lost the size measuring fight this time around and ended up being the little spoon. Honestly he doesn't seem to mind. Two weeks of interrupted sleep means he's been playing plenty of catchup over the last two days.

"Mmm, no..." His eyebrows furrow and he turns a little more to bury his face into the couch cushion, clutching hard into the edge of the seat, not awake or conscious enough to stop any inappropriate crotch-to-butt rubbing action although that is fast changing as he is inevitably nearly rolling off the couch.

[tinstar]

Raylan huffed a breath and dropped his head back down, the hangover threatening to start in his head more important than his dignity of a man laying this close next to him and in no place to stop the shuffle of settling in that Doc was attempting to do. He could only groan agonizingly and sigh heavily, not totally unaware of the deep comfort that a body, any body, next to him brought.

"Doc," he said, voice sleep rough as his hand moved up to Doc's hip to rub a thumb back and forth. Shaking Doc would mean having to firm up enough to not shake himself and he didn't dare make that kind of jostle yet. "Yer gonna fall off."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm woke with a start, sprawled on his bed unrestrained. He blinked into the dim light of early morning, frowning. He thought he'd fallen asleep accidentally in the boarding house but... no. This was his own room, in 1306. His eyes widened. He bolted out of bed, heading for the stairs, clambering down them so quickly he missed the last couple and stumbled into the livingroom, casting around to see if anyone else was there.

He spotted Raylan and Doc on the couch and walked over there, wringing his hands unconsciously.

"Raylan? Doc?"

[tinstar]

"Yeah," Raylan answered, head lifting from the upright but clearly deboned position on the couch. He'd managed to get to a sitting position but not much further, knees spread wide, hat somewhere in Malcolm's room. His brain slowly roused him back to current events and his forehead pinched.

"Malcolm." Like he was just realizing he was there. "You okay?" He lifted a hand, gesturing for him to come sit down, be that next to Raylan and possibly Doc? or not.

[thering]

The sound of Malcolm's ruckus had Doc turning from where he's sitting, knee bumping against Raylan's and almost smacking his forehead against Raylan's shoulder but he can't see past the backrest of the couch. In his tired state his hand flies down to grab Raylan's thigh, where his gun would have been, but it was just soft and fleshy to the touch and Doc quickly pulls his hand back.

It's just as well Raylan had woken them or they would have been found in a most compromising position.

"Morning Malcolm." Malcolm. He's awake. And there wasn't any screaming to wake them.

Malcolm.

"Oh, shit. Neal Caffrey." They're back in the house. Did they all come back here? Is he still here? And Negan?

[vampirebats]

Morning

"What the fresh fuck is this?" Are the first coherent words out of Negan's mouth when he opens his eyes and he's pulled yet another goddamn midnight traveling act. It's not the boarding house. He's back in the cowboy's bed.

He pushes himself up off the mattress, limbs heavy and drowsy still as he stumbles out of the room. "Hellooo? Did I wake up here all by my lonesome?"

God, he hopes not.

Part of him wants to go check the front door, see if he's just trapped in a cage of a new making or not.

Later

Well, once the initial panic has settled down and he's satisfied that everyone's... somehow back in one piece, Negan is feeling listless. He can handle crazy. Goddamn, but has he seen a thing or two in his life, but this place is straining even that.

The lanterns are gone and now it seems like the weather outside is calm enough. It's why Negan's perched himself nearest the closest window. Either lost in thought or weighing the pros and cons of getting out of here, back somewhere to give his hosts some of their personal space back. Eventually, he'll huff out a sigh and turn to look around, see if anyone's around.

"Hey, don't suppose there's a way I could get a drink before I consider freezing my nuts off again, huh?"

Drinking back in the apocalypse was a hell of a bad idea, but here? He isn't sure it matters.

Later

[abrightboy]

Malcolm hadn't been able to sit still all day, moving restlessly around the house with no real purpose.

He hadn't been avoiding Negan, but the others had been around. They hadn't talked. He glanced around when Negan spoke. Nobody in the immediate vicinity.

"I can get you a drink. You're leaving?"

Re: Later

[vampirebats]

"I was thinking about it at least. Not sure how smart it is yet... just having trouble staying in one place after our little midnight walk and lock-in." He hasn't been avoiding Malcolm, really, but there's been a lot of distractions.

And he's not sure how the fuck to politely ask if he's feeling better or if he's going to grab the poker again.

"Or whatever that was. Some freaky shit, right?"

Morningish

[thering]

When Negan makes it to the door he will pass the commotion over breakfast in and around the kitchen and find a six foot tall shadow just outside the front door. Doc looking at the blanket of snow, hat back in place, lighting a smoke up.

He turns half over his shoulder at the sound of the door opening and reaches down into his long coat pocket, pulling out his cigarillo tin case and flicking it open to offer a cigarette to Negan.

"Did you sleep well last night?"

[vampirebats]

"Hey--" He pauses, brows furrowing at the sight of the man. Hell yeah, he'll take that cigarette. He needs something to calm his nerves a little bit after--

whatever the hell that was.

"Tell me I didn't just hallucinate a bunch of shit?" He doesn't think he's gone totally loony, but he needs an outside confirmation right now.

"Was I gone or did I just have one impressively realistic dream?"

[tinstar]

Having been up for long enough to get some coffee going, Raylan tilted himself up the stairwell and hollered back. "Come down stairs and find out," he challenged gently. "We got coffee and a bit of shine if you already need to take the edge off. Breakfast will come soon enough."

Now that he was back on familiar territory, Raylan could pretend like nothing happened. It was over food or drink coveration, something for them all to catch up and compare on. He hoped that breakfast would provide that opportunity. Maybe they could make sense of what the hell they just went through.

[vampirebats]

There's something like relief in him at the sound of a familiar voice. He heads down, lips curling up into a smile. "You know, I usually don't... but I might take a splash. Had a-- hell of a night."

Days? Whatever. "You need any help?"

If he's staying and eating, feels like the least he can do. "Pretty handy around the kitchen."

Morning!

[conning]

Neal beat him to the front door.

That's where he is when Negan comes downstairs, anyway--barefoot in fresh pajama pants and a borrowed t-shirt, standing on the threshold with the door open. There's too much snow for him to really want to step past the edge of the doorway--it's piled up pretty high--but the sun on his face and the sound of silence is a relief after the last two days.

Neal might not have answered when Negan shouted, but he hears him come down the stairs. He turns, expecting someone he knows--and then stops, half-closing the front door. "...Are you another cowboy?"

[vampirebats]

"Nah, more the leather jacket type." He doesn't... remember if he saw Neal here before he went poof or not, but he doesn't think so. So, does that mean he's some random displaced dude, or had Negan just been too frostbitten and tired to pay attention?

Either way, he shakes his head and offers up a grin. "I won't complain if you wanna call me one though. Name's Negan. You?"

[conning]

WAKIN' UP - closed to one person

When Neal wakes up, he's not with Daisy. That's the first thing that registers. He'd fallen asleep with his arm around her shoulders, half to comfort her if the Gull started shaking again and half to keep himself anchored and sane.

He sits up fast and regrets it immediately, clutching at his head as the room fades out and his ears start ringing. He can't tell if he wants to throw up because he's dizzy from the blood loss still or if he's dizzy from lack of sleep. Apparently even being finally, finally unconscious isn't enough to make up for what the Gull spent two days doing.

Neal eases himself out of the bed, still wearing pajama pants he borrowed from Raylan and not much else. He scavenges a shirt from the room's dresser and pulls it on carefully, moving slow. What he wants to do is run out the front door and make sure at least Daisy and Elena are all right, but two days awake after getting attacked by a vampire do not a healthy body make.

He braces himself against one of the walls as he comes down the stairs, trying to ignore both the hollowed-out sleepless feeling in his chest and the fact that he's straining to hear strange whispers that aren't there. Instinct says the moment he stops listening for them, they'll be back. Instinct can screw itself.

He makes it to the bottom of the stairs, stands there for a moment, and then beelines for the kitchen. Not quickly but with purpose. He saw the moonshine in there, and he can't make himself feel much more like shit--might as well feel like shit and be drunk at the same time.


Evening

He checked in with people, both on the phone and in person, though mostly on the phone. He started the day tired, and the effort of talking would have been enough to exhaust him all on its own. But he's been on edge all day, waiting for the building to start shaking, for the screaming wind to come back, for the whispers to start up again. Even after almost twelve solid hours of relative peace, he still can't stop expecting it.

He's wrapped himself in a blanket from the couch and settled in with his back against the wall next to the fireplace. Whether he thought better of it or was talked out of it, Neal didn't get drunk earlier.

He's well and truly drunk now.

WAKIN' UP

[abrightboy]

Malcolm sat at the kitchen island, his hands wrapped around his cup, his leg jiggling against the leg of his stool, still restless, still unsettled, though calmer than he started, having discovered the cowboys were home too. There were still eggs and pancakes from Raylan's efforts on the counter.

Spotting movement from the side of his vision, he turned his eyes to where Neal stepped off the stairs and his eyes widened, surprised but pleased. Neal and Negan had been staying with them in the storm, but did they actually live there? Mathias seemed to think so, apparently. He abandoned his cup and got up. Neal looked shaky.

"Neal!" He moved towards him. "Are you okay?"

[conning]

He checks at the entry, not sure why Malcolm's presence is unexpected. It's his house, or at least partly his house.

But Neal doesn't like being seen this vulnerable by people who know him well. Physically unsteady, mentally unraveled--normally he'd be hiding in his apartment painting or, if he absolutely had to see people, putting the final touches on an impeccable appearance. Here he can't do either of those things. So he just kind of stands there for a moment, shell-shocked and staring at Malcolm.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. You?"

I guess not waking up but shortly after that? First line of sight that Raylan gets of Neal

[tinstar]

Having woken up and stayed downstairs, Raylan had gotten coffee started and attempted to collect himself in the quiet that their staggered waking schedules provided. There was a lot to process now that he was back on familar ground, and he wasn't brave enough to go upstairs to see if anyone else was there.

What if they weren't? What if he and Doc and Malcolm were suddenly devoid of the people that were supposed to be there?

He might not have had a one on one with Neal yet, but Raylan still worried. So when he finally saw Neal that morning, Raylan didn't hesitate in calling his name and attention.

"Neal. You're here. You okay?"

THAT WORKS i Didn't Think My Timing Through

[conning]

He's hanging on to a cup of coffee like a lifeline, staring into it without taking a sip when Raylan gets his attention. He's on the couch, having migrated from the kitchen.

He's too tired to go very far. He looks as much like hell as he feels.

"Hi. Yeah. I'm fine. You?"

Sometime earlyish in the day

[thering]

There is a familiarity to the buzzing around the kitchen that Doc would not admit to missing. Familiar faces, familiar conversation, familiar routines. He always takes the last kitchen island stool closest to the wall.

And even though Neal and Negan had only weathered a storm with them, they slotted in well into the morning in the house. The existing residents flow around the two new boulders in the river seamlessly, washing over them, taking them into the fold without complaint.

After he's had some moonshine and food in him, Doc seizes the opportunity to get him alone.

"Mister Caffrey. How's your neck?" Doc had worried over it the past two days. He's relieved to see all four of them intact. Neal being up and moving around and not pale as a ghost most of all.

[conning]

Neal would like to believe he's doing a bit better at the being okay thing since his conversations with Malcolm and Raylan. Like those were warm-up rounds for behaving like a normal person. But he still feels like shit, and the paleness of three days ago has been replaced by the waxy cheesecloth look of sleeplessness.

He's not sure what cup of coffee he's on at this point.

"Doc. It's... fine." He touches the bandage. He largely left it alone over the last two days. He did at least have the good sense to change it once he woke up back here. "As fine as can be expected. How are you doing? Where did you end up?"