Characters: Alfie and Royce Location: Downtown Date: Day 292 to Day 295 Summary: Exposure effects, a brief reprieve, and then event shenanigans. Warnings: Nothing yet, will update if anything comes up.
[ When they get to the pet shop, both of them are tired. They've been looking through buildings all day long, and Royce can tell that Alfie is on his last legs for the day. He tells Alfie to rest while he puts together the air mattress, and then covers him in blankets before going off to investigate the building.
He - needs to. It's necessary, he can't ignore the urge to check under every cage and behind all of the displays. He roots through everything, finding that he's unable to relax until he does. Alfie might hear him clanging around as he rests. ]
[When Royce instructs him to rest while he takes care of everything, Alfie doesn't even argue. He starts nodding off while Royce is blowing up the air mattress, and when it's all set up, he doesn't hesitate to crawl onto it with a mumbled thanks, mate and conk out completely. When Royce comes back from searching the building, he won't have moved an inch - he'll still be fast asleep, breathing deeply. For the first time today, he's totally relaxed.]
[ Good, Royce thinks, when he comes back. He's been worried about Alfie - it's been strong enough to break through most of the apathy. It makes him feel better and less useless to be able to take care of Alfie, so he's glad that Alfie lets him. When he finds Alfie asleep, he settles down on the air mattress next to him and adjusts the blankets so that they're tucked around Alfie a little more securely.
Royce himself is shivering, but he has other things he needs to do first before he can curl up under the blankets too. He found chocolates. And an ice cream sandwich, and - these flowers that taste like sugar. Like candy. He'd planned on saving them, but he's afraid something's going to happen. They're going to vanish. Or... or something will eat them first. He doesn't know.
He's not the biggest fan of sugar, but the ice cream sandwich is something he isn't totally against. He messily eats the cookie parts, and only pauses for about half a second before he starts putting the sugar flowers in Alfie's beard. Angel would probably appreciate a picture of this, he thinks absently. ]
[Somewhere off in dreamland, Alfie is vaguely aware of someone touching his face. He twitches a little, and murmurs something completely unintelligible.]
[ Royce is actually vaguely amused by this. Enough to take a picture. He's not going to leave them in Alfie's beard, though, that's mean, and Royce doesn't want to be mean to Alfie, so he'll take them out. Slowly, because he keeps having to check over his shoulder. It feels like someone is watching him.
He only takes them out after he got his picture, though. Blackmail secured. ]
[Royce has good timing, because just as the last flower is picked out, Alfie mumbles again and cracks an eye open. He stares, unfocused, for a few seconds, and then he squints and says:]
You've got something in your beard.
[It's probably a bit of ice cream or chocolate from that messy eating.]
[ When Royce wakes up, he's groggy. He's not entirely sure where he is at first - the hotel, he figures, after a couple of moments, it's just that... there's so much in his head. It feels sort of distant. But - it happened. Or maybe it didn't.
There's a beat, and then he hurriedly scrambles to sit up and look at Alfie. Alfie, who is not 80 years old anymore. Deep breath. Royce sort of just stares for a while, trying to figure out what these past two days have even been. He doesn't say anything for now, just pulls the blankets closer and tries to think. ]
I remember. [ He breathes out. He sinks back down, curling up next to Alfie. Alfie's bigger again, easier to settle against. ] All of those years. Sixty or so for me. They're fuzzy, but I remember.
[ Maybe. Maybe not. Royce doesn't sound or look convinced, either. He also doesn't know what to say, or how to even start to sort through all his memories. There's so much.
Royce opens his mouth, then closes it. Then tries again. ]
[Resting all day the day before (and the day before that, though Alfie isn't sure that really counts) had helped. They don't do a lot of walking today, but what they do do is easier to get through than anything in the past several days. Still, Alfie's a little quieter than usual, both as they walk and as they search. They end up hitting two buildings, and both times, he's bothered by memories of his older self - eighty years old and desperately clinging to searching and supply-gathering as a way to feel like his life as meaning. Things aren't quite the same now (he thinks) and they do still have some chance of getting out (he hopes) - but still, it's hard not to see the parallels.
Once they're in the cafe and getting ready to bed down, the mattress all blown up and the pillows and blankets mounded together on top of it, Alfie changes into his robe and crawls in without any preamble. He hasn't prayed at all, tonight, and he hadn't the night before, either. That's very unusual for him. He'll skip a night here and there, usually when he's more ill, injured, or traumatized than usual, but two nights in a row without some obvious impediment is unusual. He doesn't mention it, though. He just rolls over onto his stomach and grabs his tablet, giving the network a quick scroll-through.]
[ It's very unusual, and Royce is worried. And while sure, the years have faded a bit, he still... remembers. He still has a hard time shaking the worst of it off. And past that, he's probably been more touchy than usual, the forty or sixty years between them making it easier for Royce to forget he shouldn't be so physically affectionate.
Royce is already curled up on the mattress when Alfie settles down next to him. When it looks like Alfie isn't going to get up again, Royce frowns and sits up, reaching to rest a hand against Alfie's forehead, like he's checking for a particularly bad fever. ]
[ Royce frowns a little. He shifts, squeezing Alfie's hand back and then dislodging it to press against Alfie's cheek with the back of his hand. It doesn't feel worse than normal... ]
Is the poisoning bad tonight? [ He asks, already making an effort to squash down the rising paranoia. ]
Day 292-293ish
He - needs to. It's necessary, he can't ignore the urge to check under every cage and behind all of the displays. He roots through everything, finding that he's unable to relax until he does. Alfie might hear him clanging around as he rests. ]
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Royce himself is shivering, but he has other things he needs to do first before he can curl up under the blankets too. He found chocolates. And an ice cream sandwich, and - these flowers that taste like sugar. Like candy. He'd planned on saving them, but he's afraid something's going to happen. They're going to vanish. Or... or something will eat them first. He doesn't know.
He's not the biggest fan of sugar, but the ice cream sandwich is something he isn't totally against. He messily eats the cookie parts, and only pauses for about half a second before he starts putting the sugar flowers in Alfie's beard. Angel would probably appreciate a picture of this, he thinks absently. ]
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He only takes them out after he got his picture, though. Blackmail secured. ]
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You've got something in your beard.
[It's probably a bit of ice cream or chocolate from that messy eating.]
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So did you, a moment ago.
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Me? No I didn't.
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You're an incredibly sound sleeper.
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Day 295
There's a beat, and then he hurriedly scrambles to sit up and look at Alfie. Alfie, who is not 80 years old anymore. Deep breath. Royce sort of just stares for a while, trying to figure out what these past two days have even been. He doesn't say anything for now, just pulls the blankets closer and tries to think. ]
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Hello. You look-- you look different. Normal.
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[ He asks, frowning. ]
You remember all that?
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[He closes his eyes again, his face slackening.]
-- The memories will fade even more, with time.
[He doesn't sound at all convinced.]
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Royce opens his mouth, then closes it. Then tries again. ]
It felt real.
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[He runs a hand over his own face, feeling for extra wrinkles.]
Don't know what I would've done if you weren't with me.
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296
Once they're in the cafe and getting ready to bed down, the mattress all blown up and the pillows and blankets mounded together on top of it, Alfie changes into his robe and crawls in without any preamble. He hasn't prayed at all, tonight, and he hadn't the night before, either. That's very unusual for him. He'll skip a night here and there, usually when he's more ill, injured, or traumatized than usual, but two nights in a row without some obvious impediment is unusual. He doesn't mention it, though. He just rolls over onto his stomach and grabs his tablet, giving the network a quick scroll-through.]
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Royce is already curled up on the mattress when Alfie settles down next to him. When it looks like Alfie isn't going to get up again, Royce frowns and sits up, reaching to rest a hand against Alfie's forehead, like he's checking for a particularly bad fever. ]
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Is the poisoning bad tonight? [ He asks, already making an effort to squash down the rising paranoia. ]
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[He shifts to look up at Royce, concerned.]
You're worried. Why?
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[It's true, and it's not like he hadn't noticed or had just forgotten, but he's still a little surprised that Royce is mentioning it.]
Yeah. Haven't felt the need, I suppose.
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Why not? [ He should probably let it go, but - he doesn't want to. ]
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