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

[conning]

"I owe you." He huffs out a laugh. "All of you. You and Malcolm for explaining this place, helping me after I got bitten. Raylan for finding me out there."

Neal looks down. "Thank you. All of you."

[thering]

"Nothing is owed." This is their way. Or, it was, before everyone got hostile and started locking their doors and assumed ill intentions of well-meant hospitality.

"I only ask that you share any information you might find that might lead to us getting everyone home." He has asked the same of everyone, in the hopes that they can all leave this place intact, even if it means they may well never see each other again. It would be bittersweet, but he doesn't believe that this is where their stories end.

[conning]

Neal nods. That's a given, as far as he's concerned. He's so not equipped to unravel this place on his own. He needs a team, and if his people aren't here... Well, he'll have to borrow other people's people. Or be borrowed by them. The thought makes him smile again, though it's tired.

"Not the kind of case I usually work on, but hey, we all need a change of pace now and then."

[thering]

Neal had explained that he was a man of many talents but Doc never asked what he was currently doing. 'Case' sounds a lot more like what Raylan and Malcolm do day to day.

"Did you want to talk about anything that might have happened over the last two days? I know all of this hasn't been easy." Not just for Neal, but he wasn't around the last time they were whisked away. It would be particularly hard on him.

[conning]

Neal hesitates. He almost just says I'm fine. But he's already told Malcolm the truth.

He shakes his head, drifting over to one of the couches to sit down. He wraps both hands around his coffee mug. "There's not much to talk about. It was... loud. The building kept shaking. Felt like it was going to come down around us, sometimes. We all heard voices, but none of us could understand them, and none of us heard the same voices." He takes a deep, soft breath, slowly tensing up again even as he tries to stay calm. "The wind was the worst part. It screamed. Felt like it was clawing into our heads. It hurt, mentally and physically."

[thering]

Doc follows Neal to the couch, easing himself down next to him, careful not to upset his coffee. He's not sure he heard that kind of ruckus but with the blizzard outside he couldn't have noticed much beyond what was happening in the house he himself was trapped in. He nods as he listens without interjecting, trying to piece together a puzzle where he's missing three quarters of the pieces and doing his best not to be frustrated by the process.

"Things weren't that pleasant where I ended up either. There were phantoms in the mirror and shadows moving out of the corner of your eye." And that's not to mention the unsettling noises in the ceiling and in the basement. "These things will eat away at you. You have to try not to dwell on them too much."

[conning]

"How do you keep from dwelling on them?" It's a genuine question. The sort of thing he would ask Peter in this situation, if Peter had ever been remotely in a situation like this one.

[thering]

"You accept that your mind will play tricks on you, think of these as mere distractions, and focus on the important things." Unfortunately he's had some experience this department, having been left alone and in the cold, wet darkness for over a century. He knows too well the kinds of tricks that his mind can play on him. Wouldn't have made it out if he kept tugging at the loose threads of what had been left of his sanity.

"The most important things are taken care of. Water, shelter, food. Beyond that it's whatever you think is important to you. I think we need to look after people while they are in our lives while we find a way outta here. The people under this roof. The other people in town. I thought about how you were holding up over the last two days, tried to get word back to this house. These are things within our control. Whatever's gonna try and get us - a shaking building or voices, phantoms in the mirror or unsettling noises - these are not in our control." Doc gives Neal one of those small shrugs that say a lot more than a mere small gesture.

"If I just had dwelt on the things that ate away at me and let things outside of my control dictate what I can and cannot do with my life, then I would have died from tuberculosis not having ever left Georgia. I would have never met Wyatt, or rode to Tombstone, or even be here right now." Maybe he's more cautious and a hell of a lot more mellowed out these days, but Doc would never advocate to just let things happen to you.

[conning]

The important things. Neal remembers the feeling of his arms around Daisy as the building shook, sharing bits of his life with a stranger who didn't feel like one at all by the end of the day. Malcolm, this morning, with his confession about how Raylan saved him, and Neal's reciprocation with the story about his dad. Raylan's gentleness earlier. Doc's gentleness now. Neal has built friendships on less and done it faster.

"Do you think Malcolm's right? That someone built this town to be this way?"

[thering]

"I am starting to think that the things that are happening to us cannot be ascribed to mere coincidence or randomness. But I do not know who or what has this kind of power. Or how we can bargain our way out of this." He can't think of anything they would have that someone with this kind of ability would not easily be able to attain for themselves, or be willing to trade for.

"There aren't many other phenomena I can think of wherein food just appears every day. People kept in their pens. A few show up, a few go missing. We are like little farm animals." Only it is left to be seen who among them would be Napoleon the pig.

[conning]

"There's always a way." Always. He may not know what it is yet, but he knows they'll find it.

"Eventually whoever or whatever's behind this will make a mistake. We just need to catch it when it happens. And stay alive in the mean time."

[thering]

"I agree." And if there's one thing he is good at without his guns out here, it would be surviving. He's been through worse. He would not be gotten done in by a bunch of faceless abductors mired in strange shit happening all around him.

"We did not manage to pursue our loose end, Mister Mikaelson, before we left. We have some immediate concerns to tend to today but I promise you, he won't hurt you again. Not on my watch." He would not go behind Raylan's back to take care of their little problem, but he isn't sure that they are on the same page regarding this topic, the same way he is sure that they are on the same page on just about every other topic.

[conning]

Neal really doesn't know what to do with the fact that these near-strangers seem to care as much as they do. He's had time to build that kind of relationship with Peter and his family in New York. He knows what they would do for him and what he would do for them. There's a track record there.

But here, he's no one. The con man who passed out on their couch. Never, never has he gotten this kind of consideration from strangers. They know what he is. Raylan and Malcolm do, at least, but that hasn't seemed to have changed anything.

"I'm an ex-con," Neal says abruptly. "I'm a thief. If we met a hundred and fifty years ago, I'd be in your crosshairs, not on your couch."

[thering]

It's an odd little... slightly irrelevant revelation? Doc seems a little puzzled, eyebrows furrowed as he tips his head to one side a bit.

"Name a man in this house who has not done anything regrettable and I would prove you wrong. If you stole from me a hundred and fifty years ago I would have shot and killed you faster than you could say your own name," Doc concedes. He wouldn't have hesitated back then, too. If he did he would be the one dead in the streets.

"But you showed up three days ago needing help. You did not steal from us. You have stolen, in the past. You have also drawn, you cooked, you read. That could make you a thief, an artiste, a chef, or a frontier history aficionado. I do not have the privilege of defining the man I am. History has made me a gunslinger, a gambler, a dentist, a vagabond. My legacy has been set in stone. I would not rob you of such a privilege, to decide the kind of man you are today."

[conning]

Neal has absolutely nothing to say.

It's a first. He's not sure how Peter would react to it. Probably give Doc some kind of award.

Peter, who hasn't decided yet whether he's testifying for or against Neal at his commutation hearing. Neal fumbles for a moment, trying to find a way to break the silence.

"You can't mean that." He doesn't know how to handle this. "I've robbed palaces. Broken into embassies. I've been on crews with murderers, had a partner execute our third man right in front of me. I lie, all the time. All the time. Even when I tell the truth. I counterfeited ancient Egyptian manuscripts just because I felt like confusing some historians. I replaced the Mona Lisa with a fake. They still haven't noticed that one. You don't know me. I don't even know me any more."

[thering]

Doc is pretty certain this is what they mean by being on different wavelengths. Neal has him thinking that in another life he could have made for a half-decent priest with this onslaught of confessions tumbling out of Neal's lips. He's not even sure where to start or how to make sense of half of these admissions.

Raising both hands in surrender, Doc leans back a bit and smiles.

"I was not questioning your prowess as a thief, or an artist. Or your-- relationship with Miss Lisa." That was Mona's last name, wasn't it? "All I am saying is, if being branded a thief is what you want on your headstone then I would respect that. But if you would rather be known for something else while you are here, then so it shall be. We have been here for some time, and we will likely continue to be here for some time. You have all the time and the space you need to get to know yourself and decide."

[conning]

The look Neal gives Doc is a little lost, still. He clears his throat, and suddenly anywhere in the room but the cowboy seems downright fascinating.

"Sorry. It's been. A long couple of days."

As though that explains anything at all.

[thering]

"It has been," he confirms. It might or might not explain why Neal is looking at him like he's grown another head but Doc will accept it anyway. Strange things have happened back home and here he has tried to land on his feet, so that he has his hands free to help the others who might be struggling. He's not sure this is something he can help with outright but he will answer any questions as best he can and just be around as much as possible, do what he can.

"Did you want to go upstairs? Get some more rest?"

[conning]

Neal squirms very slightly, clearing his throat. "Actually, uh. There's someone I wanted to check in with first. A woman I was with at the Gull, Daisy Johnson. She had a rougher time than me, and I want to make sure she's okay."

[thering]

"Oh, yes of course. Since you are visiting Miss Johnson, could you pass her a couple of rolls of bandages?" It has been a while since he'd checked in on her. His relief at her coming back from her disappearing act hadn't translated well in the heat of the moment and he hasn't spoken with her since. "I will bring them to you. She... had hurt her arms, previously. She may need them again." He's not sure how much Neal knows about the... vibrating thing? In either case it is up to her to share what she feels comfortable sharing with Neal.

[conning]

"Yeah, definitely. She... had it rougher than I did, while we were stuck. Didn't help her arms, that's for sure." Neal isn't sure how much Doc knows, either, and well. After Daisy told him about her own experiences with being called a monster, he's not about to let that slip. "I'm sure she'll appreciate it."

[thering]

"If you are returning in a few hours' time there shall be food." That's the thing about housemates. People start doing outrageous things like cooking your share and thinking about you.

"Otherwise we might see you tonight." It is unlikely that anyone will be staying in for the whole day after spending two days cooped up indoors. But with five people, at least one person should be around at any one time, and no doubt they'll be working on a better setup than two cowboys spooning on the couch tonight.

[conning]

It takes him off-guard. The thought of someone else cooking. Even though Raylan did it this morning, too. That was different. This morning he was a guest.

"Yeah... yeah. I'll be back one way or another." Neal shakes his head.