[Scratching an itch. Yes, that is exactly the best way to describe it.]
No, because if they plan on keeping it in a cell and nothing more, then that's their first mistake. They should kill what they do have of it. Set it on fire until there's nothing left.
[Maybe this is not exactly a reply that surprises Fern. The Skinner had done more than just attack Henry unprovoked, but committed an even worse crime: harming his pride.]
[ It's not as if Henry is wrong. When it comes to a creature like this, one that could find a way to keep crawling back, there does need to be some sort of definitive end.
But Fern does suspect that his own frustration at his lack of contribution when it attacked them is also playing a part here. It's almost like she can feel it herself: that wounded pride of his. ]
I would not say no to the joolies either. My motorcycle is almost paid off. But if we're right and the killer is going to crop up again, sharing information on how it functions might make a difference.
I've been working two jobs for some time, and I also try to go into the Fringes when I can to find materials to salvage for additional joolies on top of that.
I guess I can understand the want to be free of that, then. They say that debt is its own kind of cage.
[Perhaps that's the difference between them, though. Henry does not respect the debt he's been saddled with, so he probably makes whatever constitutes the minimum payments here and there. He doesn't even like his damn car.]
[ While it's hard to tell tone just from text like this, Fern suspects that Henry doesn't actually plan to one day become a hard worker. For all that he might not like to feel under another's control, it seems that he doesn't consider the debt to be a restraining force in the same way. ]
It certainly feels that way to me. Are you still doing art for businesses, or have you moved on to something else?
[He has problems with the straitjacket rules that bind society together. If money and debt and everything in between do not qualify as that, what possibly could?
Demoting them to a state of least importance to his life only exemplifies that — indeed, even his odd little jobs he's picked up here and there have only been for survival's sake, and she's right in assuming that he'll never become a hard worker in the nine-to-five kind of way.]
No. I've elevated myself to "please cover up the obscenities graffitied on the side of our building with a nice mural." It underpays for how much effort goes into it, but I survive.
[ ... ]
There's a cafe near the motel I'm staying at called The Mean Bean Machine. My last job was there. Have you seen it?
[ The concept of graffiti is not unknown to her, nor the desire for people to hide that it was ever there in the first place. Still, a mural does sound like a nicer thing to look at.
Most things underpay here, she might point out, but she's certain Henry's all too aware of that. ]
I know the place you mean, though I haven't driven by it recently. I'll have to stop in for a meal there and see what you painted.
[ She almost starts typing to ask if he'd like to meet her there. Adrian remains insistent that friends go out for coffee, even if their meeting with Lucina and Jason had been a minor disaster.
Is that what Henry is? A friend? He's someone she's been through something with. She catches herself, erases the message. ]
We can grab a bite there today if you want. I haven't had anything to eat yet.
[There is an irony here, about not wanting to be tethered, and yet feeling that way (if only faintly, and not unpleasantly) during this conversation is the only way he can really describe it.
Henry, it seems, is also not quick to label anyone a "friend", but is more apt to pursue what he wants, whatever that may be in the moment. If this is an itch that needs scratching, and maybe discussing, then maybe it'll also go away as quickly as it arrived.]
[ Fern blinks at her phone when that message comes in. She knows there is nothing that strange about the invitation, but the fact that he dragged her back before she pulled away, whether he knows he's doing it or not (does he?) gives her a moment of pause.
People ask acquaintances out to get a meal, sometimes. Eating together with someone you know is normal. Alucard's invited her before. It's nothing strange, but the way she immediately wants to agree is the exact reason that she briefly leaves him on read.
Briefly. Ten minutes, tops. Sorry, Henry. ]
Yes, that sounds good. I could eat.
[ And maybe face-to-face, she can determine if some of the strange things she's felt in the past week or so have also been happening to him. ]
[Not Henry Creel undergoing the real lived human experience of being left on read for the first time in his life.
But it's for a short ten minutes; not truly enough for a man like Henry to feel uncertain about his ask. And only enough room for the slightest tinge of disappointment that immediately washes away when his phone lights up with a reply.]
Okay.
[He is eager to speak about what's happening to him. Does she feel it?
(And—though he'd rather die than admit it—he is excited to show her his mural, too.)]
[ It's something that every person living in the world of cell phones has to learn to endure one day...
Half an hour seems rather fast, but Fern has no reason to push back the time, really. She works in the evenings and generally sets aside the early morning and midday for catching up on sleep or running errands.
So, guess this is happening. ]
I'll be there.
[ And so she arrives promptly to the cafe. Henry might spot her on her bike, the one she had to abandon at the haunted house during their last ordeal, as she cuts a quick corner in search of a parking spot. As she walks up a minute or so later, she's dressed appropriately for the weather, with layers, sturdy boots, a jacket, gloves, and a hood pulled up over her ears.
She waves at Henry as she approaches, taking care with her footing on the icy sidewalk, and then glances to find the mural she was told of. ]
[Henry doesn't take into account that she could be clear across the other end of the city. The cafe is close to where he's staying, so he doesn't need to drive; he just walks, and it takes him fifteen minutes to get there.
Which means he's waiting near the entrance when she arrives, hard to miss with her familiar motorcycle as she seeks parking. He, too, is dressed appropriately for the weather and radiates his usual prim, proper, and polite vibe. His hands are hidden in the pockets of his brown bomber jacket to keep warm.
Compared to how she saw him last, it's as though he's reset himself. No more (visible) anger, hair perfectly combed and coifed, and not a single drop of blood to be seen.]
Hi.
[He offers a smile. Warm, blooming satisfaction crawls inside every vein as she approaches, thanks to whatever the hell is happening to him, and he would curse the feeling were it not so grounding.]
If you're looking for my mural, it's around the other side of the building.
[ The jacket doesn't quite fit the image Fern's had of Henry based on how he's dressed every other time they've met, but with the snowfall and the colder temperature, everyone has to make do.
He does seem to be back to normal, for whatever that means for either of them. If he's still suffering the headaches and nosebleeds, they at least seem to be less frequent.
Does that mean he's learned his lesson? The truth he shared with her in the aftermath of their run-in with the Skinner is something she's still digesting. But for whatever he might feel beneath the surface, this seems to be the way he likes to present himself in public. (And she understands that — wanting to control how others view you.)
Either way, it is good to see him looking better, and even greeting her with a smile. A weight on her chest lifts, and for a moment her brow furrows with confusion, but it doesn't appear to be directed at him. ]
Hello, Henry. It's good to see you.
[ The words come out before she can think better of them, leaving her even more confused at herself. She clears her throat. ]
... Lead the way, then. [ She draws closer, ready to follow him. ]
[Has he learned his lesson? Has he?? 🙂 Time will tell.
But he does seem relatively normal, and Fern seems to be doing well enough, too, so he just tilts his head slightly in the direction he intends to lead her-]
All right. Just over here; it faces the street, so maybe people will have a chance to appreciate it before it gets graffitied over again.
[A small mote of pride mixed with cynism. Both utterly sincere, and she will come to learn that this is very, very Henry. He turns and leads her around the building, and his work becomes obvious almost immediately. She will be struck with the color green, first and foremost. Henry has painted the side of the building to look like crawling foliage, with wide thick leaves, splaying across the side. Vines, interweaving. And on the leaves, painted with careful precision that is also indicative of his character, are all sorts of little bugs.
They're lovingly rendered. There is, of course, a little jumping spider here and there amid the collection.
This is a far cry from painting a logo in a bowling alley. Did this take him a week? Two?]
They wanted a "nature" scene, I guess to contrast against the rest of this dirty city. So I gave it to them.
Fern follows, though it's not just Henry's tone as he makes that remark about people getting a chance to appreciate it that gives her a hint into that pride, that cynicism. It's as if she can feel those spikes of emotion as he speaks, allowing her that additional glimpse into him. (And they're going to have to discuss that, as soon as they're settled inside.) The thing is, he's probably right and it's only a matter of time before his hard work is scrawled over. With this many people all living in a city together, it's not that uncommon for things like common decency to go out the window.
As Fern turns the corner and finds the mural there, however, she pauses at a distance to study it in full. It's how it's supposed to be viewed, after all. And the nature scene may not be what she expected, but she does realize that it makes some sense to want a facsimile of nature on the grungy streets of Panorama.
It's not the same as cultivating a park or something like that, but the pop of color does make the street look more attractive. ]
It is eye-catching. [ She's impressed. A pause, and she draws closer to study some of the painstaking details of the plants and vines, the attention to detail that he took when painting it all out. She lifts one hand, tracing some of the lines, but her palm hovers rather than making direct contact with the paint. ] This must have taken a long time. Maybe there's something to be said for your work ethic after all.
[ A little tease, though her tone hardly changes.
Then Fern notices them: a spider here or there. She can see why he decided to go with a mural that focused on bugs, specifically. She points to one, glancing back to Henry with a controlled smile. ] I'm starting to notice a pattern with your interests.
[She will feel a faint vibration of appreciation radiating from him, like it were a string gently and subtly plucked within her. Despite Henry's generally unkind view of the world and the human society that festers within its confines, he is still beholden to very human emotions, and pride in one's work (if it is work that he is invested in) is one of the more straightforward ways to spark it.
He clasps his hands behind his back as she examines the mural and its finer details.]
I like to start what I finish. [He deflects her tease by sounding unaffected by it, and adding-] But you'll notice I'm not exactly clamoring for more work right now.
[Though that may be partially due to their run-in with the Skinner, and his powers being on the fritz.
[ It's not exactly out of the ordinary to enjoy being praised for a job well done, and so Fern can't say that she's taken aback at what she feels from him in response to her words. The fact that she's feeling it at all is the strange part. He's a psionic, a rather accomplished one with a long list of abilities, but if he's actively sharing his emotions with her, that's new.
Is it because of all they've been through? Some show of trust, perhaps? ]
If you continue with this sort of thing, I imagine word will spread. You might find another job offer before you know it, if you're willing to put yourself out there.
[ Not that he needs her advice, but it seems to be how mercenaries earn their livelihoods. Who's to say it wouldn't be the same for a freelance artist?
As for his question, Fern suspects it's one he already knows the answer to. But fine, she'll humor him. With a knowing tilt of her head: ] You're quite fond of spiders, aren't you?
He nods, pleased. Every little vibration of their connection thrums with satisfaction, but something deeper sings when the mention of spiders properly comes into play. The opposite of what might've drawn her to him that day they shared a game of bowling: camaraderie, the ability to relate, and an old feeling of nostalgia.]
That's right. They're my favorite.
[A simple statement, plain and true. Almost childlike in its straightforwardness.]
They're surprisingly efficient and deadly predators for their size, but... They're a bit misunderstood, too, don't you think?
[ That's a strong wave of position feelings to get from a man who's only ever given her the most pasted-on and polite of smiles. Fern's distracted by it for a moment. She'd gathered that Henry liked spiders, but this is an adoration she could have never predicted, causing her to blink a few times as she processes.
They're my favorite. It's not a common choice, but she isn't at all judgmental; just a tad confused.
Still, Henry's quick to give his explanation on why, causing Fern to consider for a few seconds. ]
Because there are so many who fear them? It's true that most people won't even give them a chance even though they can be quite useful as exterminators of pests. [ Like flies and other more bothersome insects.
A pause, and she levels a stare at him, her mouth curving up just slightly at one corner. ] So you feel you share a few things in common with them? [ Look, it's obvious. She may as well get it out there. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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No, because if they plan on keeping it in a cell and nothing more, then that's their first mistake. They should kill what they do have of it. Set it on fire until there's nothing left.
[Maybe this is not exactly a reply that surprises Fern. The Skinner had done more than just attack Henry unprovoked, but committed an even worse crime: harming his pride.]
And what, for the easy money?
no subject
But Fern does suspect that his own frustration at his lack of contribution when it attacked them is also playing a part here. It's almost like she can feel it herself: that wounded pride of his. ]
I would not say no to the joolies either. My motorcycle is almost paid off. But if we're right and the killer is going to crop up again, sharing information on how it functions might make a difference.
[ She is not a fan of senseless death, herself. ]
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You're already almost done paying off your motorcycle?
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I've been working two jobs for some time, and I also try to go into the Fringes when I can to find materials to salvage for additional joolies on top of that.
[ THIS GIRL KNOWS HOW TO HUSTLE ]
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Two jobs? Additional joolies by venturing into the Fringes? What the fuck!!]
Do you not like being in debt that badly, or something?
[debt can't hurt you if you can break your creditors' kneecaps with a single thought (taps temple)]
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[ Not her area of murder, as it turns out. ]
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[Perhaps that's the difference between them, though. Henry does not respect the debt he's been saddled with, so he probably makes whatever constitutes the minimum payments here and there. He doesn't even like his damn car.]
Maybe someday I'll share your work ethic.
[probably never]
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It certainly feels that way to me.
Are you still doing art for businesses, or have you moved on to something else?
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Demoting them to a state of least importance to his life only exemplifies that — indeed, even his odd little jobs he's picked up here and there have only been for survival's sake, and she's right in assuming that he'll never become a hard worker in the nine-to-five kind of way.]
No. I've elevated myself to "please cover up the obscenities graffitied on the side of our building with a nice mural." It underpays for how much effort goes into it, but I survive.
[ ... ]
There's a cafe near the motel I'm staying at called The Mean Bean Machine. My last job was there. Have you seen it?
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Most things underpay here, she might point out, but she's certain Henry's all too aware of that. ]
I know the place you mean, though I haven't driven by it recently. I'll have to stop in for a meal there and see what you painted.
[ She almost starts typing to ask if he'd like to meet her there. Adrian remains insistent that friends go out for coffee, even if their meeting with Lucina and Jason had been a minor disaster.
Is that what Henry is? A friend? He's someone she's been through something with. She catches herself, erases the message. ]
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We can grab a bite there today if you want. I haven't had anything to eat yet.
[There is an irony here, about not wanting to be tethered, and yet feeling that way (if only faintly, and not unpleasantly) during this conversation is the only way he can really describe it.
Henry, it seems, is also not quick to label anyone a "friend", but is more apt to pursue what he wants, whatever that may be in the moment. If this is an itch that needs scratching, and maybe discussing, then maybe it'll also go away as quickly as it arrived.]
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People ask acquaintances out to get a meal, sometimes. Eating together with someone you know is normal. Alucard's invited her before. It's nothing strange, but the way she immediately wants to agree is the exact reason that she briefly leaves him on read.
Briefly. Ten minutes, tops. Sorry, Henry. ]
Yes, that sounds good. I could eat.
[ And maybe face-to-face, she can determine if some of the strange things she's felt in the past week or so have also been happening to him. ]
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But it's for a short ten minutes; not truly enough for a man like Henry to feel uncertain about his ask. And only enough room for the slightest tinge of disappointment that immediately washes away when his phone lights up with a reply.]
Okay.
[He is eager to speak about what's happening to him. Does she feel it?
(And—though he'd rather die than admit it—he is excited to show her his mural, too.)]
Meet you there in half an hour?
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Half an hour seems rather fast, but Fern has no reason to push back the time, really. She works in the evenings and generally sets aside the early morning and midday for catching up on sleep or running errands.
So, guess this is happening. ]
I'll be there.
[ And so she arrives promptly to the cafe. Henry might spot her on her bike, the one she had to abandon at the haunted house during their last ordeal, as she cuts a quick corner in search of a parking spot. As she walks up a minute or so later, she's dressed appropriately for the weather, with layers, sturdy boots, a jacket, gloves, and a hood pulled up over her ears.
She waves at Henry as she approaches, taking care with her footing on the icy sidewalk, and then glances to find the mural she was told of. ]
no subject
Which means he's waiting near the entrance when she arrives, hard to miss with her familiar motorcycle as she seeks parking. He, too, is dressed appropriately for the weather and radiates his usual prim, proper, and polite vibe. His hands are hidden in the pockets of his brown bomber jacket to keep warm.
Compared to how she saw him last, it's as though he's reset himself. No more (visible) anger, hair perfectly combed and coifed, and not a single drop of blood to be seen.]
Hi.
[He offers a smile. Warm, blooming satisfaction crawls inside every vein as she approaches, thanks to whatever the hell is happening to him, and he would curse the feeling were it not so grounding.]
If you're looking for my mural, it's around the other side of the building.
no subject
He does seem to be back to normal, for whatever that means for either of them. If he's still suffering the headaches and nosebleeds, they at least seem to be less frequent.
Does that mean he's learned his lesson? The truth he shared with her in the aftermath of their run-in with the Skinner is something she's still digesting. But for whatever he might feel beneath the surface, this seems to be the way he likes to present himself in public. (And she understands that — wanting to control how others view you.)
Either way, it is good to see him looking better, and even greeting her with a smile. A weight on her chest lifts, and for a moment her brow furrows with confusion, but it doesn't appear to be directed at him. ]
Hello, Henry. It's good to see you.
[ The words come out before she can think better of them, leaving her even more confused at herself. She clears her throat. ]
... Lead the way, then. [ She draws closer, ready to follow him. ]
no subject
But he does seem relatively normal, and Fern seems to be doing well enough, too, so he just tilts his head slightly in the direction he intends to lead her-]
All right. Just over here; it faces the street, so maybe people will have a chance to appreciate it before it gets graffitied over again.
[A small mote of pride mixed with cynism. Both utterly sincere, and she will come to learn that this is very, very Henry. He turns and leads her around the building, and his work becomes obvious almost immediately. She will be struck with the color green, first and foremost. Henry has painted the side of the building to look like crawling foliage, with wide thick leaves, splaying across the side. Vines, interweaving. And on the leaves, painted with careful precision that is also indicative of his character, are all sorts of little bugs.
They're lovingly rendered. There is, of course, a little jumping spider here and there amid the collection.
This is a far cry from painting a logo in a bowling alley. Did this take him a week? Two?]
They wanted a "nature" scene, I guess to contrast against the rest of this dirty city. So I gave it to them.
no subject
Fern follows, though it's not just Henry's tone as he makes that remark about people getting a chance to appreciate it that gives her a hint into that pride, that cynicism. It's as if she can feel those spikes of emotion as he speaks, allowing her that additional glimpse into him. (And they're going to have to discuss that, as soon as they're settled inside.) The thing is, he's probably right and it's only a matter of time before his hard work is scrawled over. With this many people all living in a city together, it's not that uncommon for things like common decency to go out the window.
As Fern turns the corner and finds the mural there, however, she pauses at a distance to study it in full. It's how it's supposed to be viewed, after all. And the nature scene may not be what she expected, but she does realize that it makes some sense to want a facsimile of nature on the grungy streets of Panorama.
It's not the same as cultivating a park or something like that, but the pop of color does make the street look more attractive. ]
It is eye-catching. [ She's impressed. A pause, and she draws closer to study some of the painstaking details of the plants and vines, the attention to detail that he took when painting it all out. She lifts one hand, tracing some of the lines, but her palm hovers rather than making direct contact with the paint. ] This must have taken a long time. Maybe there's something to be said for your work ethic after all.
[ A little tease, though her tone hardly changes.
Then Fern notices them: a spider here or there. She can see why he decided to go with a mural that focused on bugs, specifically. She points to one, glancing back to Henry with a controlled smile. ] I'm starting to notice a pattern with your interests.
no subject
He clasps his hands behind his back as she examines the mural and its finer details.]
I like to start what I finish. [He deflects her tease by sounding unaffected by it, and adding-] But you'll notice I'm not exactly clamoring for more work right now.
[Though that may be partially due to their run-in with the Skinner, and his powers being on the fritz.
Still, a shrug, and a knowing, leading question-]
But what pattern is that, exactly?
no subject
Is it because of all they've been through? Some show of trust, perhaps? ]
If you continue with this sort of thing, I imagine word will spread. You might find another job offer before you know it, if you're willing to put yourself out there.
[ Not that he needs her advice, but it seems to be how mercenaries earn their livelihoods. Who's to say it wouldn't be the same for a freelance artist?
As for his question, Fern suspects it's one he already knows the answer to. But fine, she'll humor him. With a knowing tilt of her head: ] You're quite fond of spiders, aren't you?
no subject
He nods, pleased. Every little vibration of their connection thrums with satisfaction, but something deeper sings when the mention of spiders properly comes into play. The opposite of what might've drawn her to him that day they shared a game of bowling: camaraderie, the ability to relate, and an old feeling of nostalgia.]
That's right. They're my favorite.
[A simple statement, plain and true. Almost childlike in its straightforwardness.]
They're surprisingly efficient and deadly predators for their size, but... They're a bit misunderstood, too, don't you think?
[asking like she might have an opinion on spoods]
no subject
They're my favorite. It's not a common choice, but she isn't at all judgmental; just a tad confused.
Still, Henry's quick to give his explanation on why, causing Fern to consider for a few seconds. ]
Because there are so many who fear them? It's true that most people won't even give them a chance even though they can be quite useful as exterminators of pests. [ Like flies and other more bothersome insects.
A pause, and she levels a stare at him, her mouth curving up just slightly at one corner. ] So you feel you share a few things in common with them? [ Look, it's obvious. She may as well get it out there. ]