snowblindrpg | As Sharp as Knives

[Rhys just raises his eyebrows, and then shrugs, taking that as an invitation to come in.

Sorry, House.]

Hey, as long as you aren't chewing lead paint or, I don't know, frozen corpse fingers, it's not the worst habit you could pick up.

[He's being helpful. See how helpful he's being? Then the memory of House with his tail in his mouth comes rushing back, and Rhys feels heat flood through him.

Oh, wow. That's an interesting wall. And nope, they aren't talking about that.]

Just wanted to check in. And, we picked up extra stuff at the store on our way through, if you were running short.

[House is a little concerned that lead paint and corpse fingers are on the menu if his obsession gets any worse. There's not exactly any medicine for this, unless he wants to treat it like OCD and get someone to prescribe him anti-anxiety meds. That 'someone' would probably have to be Hannibal considering he's pissed Strange and Watson off. And House doesn't particularly want to tell Hannibal that he's having trouble controlling a compulsion to taste and bite.

Maybe he could get Mary to prescribe. It's a potential option.]

I'm not. Some of the others might be. Lecter's cooking things. [He realizes Rhys probably has no idea who that is.] New guy, picked him up about a week ago. One of Graham Cracker's buddies, apparently. Ecks is around, too. You traveling with anyone? 'Cause we're gonna need to watch who's where if we wanna avoid anomalies.

[Don't eat the wall candy, House. But Rhys has some familiarity with compulsions. The dog chew? He's cool with it.]

I met Graham, sorta. On the network, I mean.

[He sounds indifferent. He hasn't made up his mind yet about the guy, honestly.]

And, uh. Yeah. Wilson's with me

[He looks genuinely surprised that House didn't know that.]

I didn't have any special plans to stay here, though? I'm figuring the ghosts are pretty sick of my tattooed ass by now.

Your tattooed ass, my white ass. [He rubs a thumb across his forehead and sighs, trying very hard not to think about the fact that he has a perfect mental recollection of all of Rhys' tattoos. Everywhere.] Got stabbed yesterday doing your little blood ritual. So it's not actual magic that gets them going. Just the motions.

And by 'them' I mean 'probably us' being influenced by our nanomachines and failing the perception check to notice it's happening until it happens.

[He is glad Wilson's around. While he'd never admit it to the other man, he's missed him. A part of him says that he's missed Rhys, as well, even though that's ridiculous.]

Where were you heading?

[Rhys makes a small, noncommittal noise. He's not quite as enamored with the magic theory as Beckett is...which is to say, he can actually accept the explanation that their nanomachines fuck with them.]

Yeah, that seems to be the common guess. It's the heresy that pisses them off. Kill the sinners.

I still wonder if supplication would get us anywhere, but I sure as hell am not wearing that hat. I have a feeling that would just end with actual stabbing.

[He looks around the room, taking the opportunity to check out the new surroundings. Not that anything's changed, but still. Good to check. His tail lashes slowly behind him, low at his heels.]

I started getting cabin fever, and I think he wanted to check up on you, see if there was anything we could do down here. Maybe see if there were any other buildings down this way that we could check out? I don't know.

[He shrugs, rubs the back of his shaved neck. He's been feeling a little aimless and a little cagey, truthfully, even though a few days to heal have been good.]

Just trying to make myself useful, y'know.

"Hypothesis." There's a tone of mock-indignation. "I'm a scientist. We don't guess. That's for all you plebes." He finally does glance over at Rhys as they move into the realm of things that House is comfortable talking about. Theories, experiments, goals...

"I already mentioned to Graham Cracker it might be interesting dragging a corpse down here and doing a redux of our experiment in the Industrial Zone. Chopped up a body, arranged it in the Prophet's eye symbol and set it on fire doing the "long live the Prophet" chant. It got a reaction, at least."

House pulls his scarf down and away so that Rhys can see the fading marks covering House's neck. It looks like he's been attacked by dozens upon dozens of clawing hands, and the marks look to carry on down past the neck.

"You two are looking for something to do, there's still that building with the twenty-seven tally marks. It's gotta mean something. I just don't know what."

Rhys smirks, unperterbed by the fact that he is, in fact, a plebe. He has no fancy degree, after all, so he'll take it with grace.

At the sight of the claw marks, he winces, and shakes his head. "Well, it's a response, at least." His frown deepens, brow wrinkling with thought. "We know what pisses them off, at least. Wonder if you barbecued one of their buddies."

It's an offhanded comment, and he goes back to thinking. There's a lot they haven't put together yet, too many pieces. And process of elimination is especially painful here. Rhys is good at pissing things off, but not as good as he once thought at putting them back together.

"Just as long as we don't wind up tally numbers twenty-eight and twenty-nine," he remarks wryly. "Worth a look, though. And definitely better than hanging out here and playing monster bait."

He pauses, then raises eyebrows at House. "You decided to hang out with your new playmates for a while?"

"It was the sinners who scratched us, not the converts." House's tone shifts to something serious for a moment and more than a little troubled as his gaze goes distant. "They were screaming." He shakes his heads slightly and blinks, looking back down at the tablet so he doesn't have to look at the eyes on the wall. His shoulders have tensed noticeably, though.

"My playmates and I are gonna be splitting up soon. I can't have you, Ecks, and Wilson in one place. That's way too much caring. You'll explode, or something." And he does want Wilson back with him. But Will's like him. Big groups aren't good for their ability to actually socialize. Will is the one he's going to miss the most, much as he doesn't want to admit it. And he's mildly worried about leaving the other man completely alone with Hannibal. They need to figure out a configuration that works. Maybe him and Wilson together with Will and Hannibal? At least for a little while. Ecks is being somewhat insufferable, though. He just needs to get that keycard she has to chaos.

Actually... that reminds him.

"Do you have access to the Shadownet, by the way?"

There's a brief impulse to go to the older man, rub his shoulders and be comforting, but Rhys knows that's a bit much considering how much they're Not Talking About, so he restrains himself, plucking at the leather and cord bracelets around his wrist instead.

"We need a chart for what fucked up shit happens where around here," he says, though House has already done a brilliant job with the guide. He clears his throat, then adds, "Well, Wilson and I are getting along fine, so that's not an issue."

He hesitates, the silence suddenly feeling awkward.

He's not going to admit that he doesn't want to go back to being alone, that's for damn sure. If House remembers how attention and contact-starved he was in the not-a-dream, that's one thing, but Rhys will cut off a finger before he'll admit it now.

New topic.

"Nah. I'm not in the cool kids club. Didn't think I had enough to say to bother with it."

He does remember. But they're not talking about it, or the fact that House had been equally needy and wanting. He's just going to continue to tell himself it didn't really happen. And that means Rhys doesn't technically have that as dirt on him. Likewise, it's nothing the doctor will be using against the witch.

"Wilson gets along with everyone. It's what makes him annoying sometimes." Extremely useful, but also annoying. "And if you wanna join the cool kid's club, grab Ecks and take her over to the elementary school." He pulls a black SD card from his pocket and holds it up and out toward Rhys.

"That's a re-writable card. Get to the school, have her put her copy of Shadownet on it, then use the machine in the library to copy it. She can show you how to use the machine." There's a somewhat drawn out pause, then he continues with the air of someone pretending not to care about something. "If Wilson wants to go with you, he can probably get his own copy."

Edited 2017-12-20 14:39 (UTC)

"Well, someone who gets along with everyone is hand," he points out. And completely opposite of, say, not getting along with anyone, which he doesn't need to point out. Sorry, House. It's the truth. He just shrugs, though, and finds a convenient solid surface to lounge against, all careless grace.

He listens to House's suggestion with a thoughtful look, then takes the SD card in long fingers and turns it over, giving the older man a somewhat dubious expression. He'd already talked to Ecks earlier.

"Hm. Bit of a hike back out of here. Have to see if they're up for it, though. Is that where all the fun chatter is going on?" He crosses his booted feet at the ankles.

Unsaid: Which of us are you trying to get rid of, and why?

Edited (Html fix!) 2017-12-21 02:07 (UTC)

"The fun chatter is upping the danger of this particular area with so many damn people circling it." House drums his fingers on the desk and has to resist the urge to bite his knuckle or the bone in his pocket. "We've already got something like five or six people headed this way who'll be here on Day 313. I need exactly one of them. But they come in packs, apparently.

"Wilson's already dealt with an anomaly of his dead girlfriend. I'm guessing the next one for him'll be Cuddy." A pause. "Our admin at the hospital. On the way back, i recommend finding chaos. Or if you're feeling frisky, head to the power plant and see if you can bring Ecks' keycard into the core area. Might be some kinda hidden panel in there that it'll open up leading to some other underground areas. Or at least the maze we got trapped in a few months ago. And if you've got the supplies for a bomb, go blow up Building 68 where we've got that door that's blocked inside.

"You can probably check for Timmy Teenager while you're over there if you're feeling real ambitious. Holmes pulled the body out of the grave in the park right next to that building."

He'll just pretend it's Wilson he's getting rid of and trying to protect, not Ecks because she's making him uncomfortable.

Edited 2017-12-21 02:45 (UTC)

"Holmes asked me to keep an eye out for another body. Would be a laugh to bring him back the same one." Rhys frowns, processing all that and raising a hand to chew on one of his well-bitten thumbnails while he does.

House is right about the anomalies, and it's going to be a slaughter with so many people and no place to run, no higher ground or barricade.

And Rhys cringes at the thought of what form his anomaly would take. Sunny, in her white burial gown? Travis Spates, crushed and broken and accusing, with iron nails still scattered in his flesh? He's been lucky thus far.

Rhys nods, letting his hand drop to his side again.

"I'm willing to go somewhere that's not here, but who comes with me, that's up to them." He goes back to plucking at his bracelets. "Hell, even if it's just supply foraging, but may as well check a few other things. South to the tally marks building if all else fails, elementary school otherwise."

He pauses, then adds, "I know how to do some basic bomb shit, but that depends on finding or making the stuff. Problematic. But burning things down had come up as a suggestion, too. I'm wondering if burning down the house might 'free' the ghosts in the house where I did the exorcism."

Or get Rhys even worse than just stabbed. That could happen too.

Edited 2017-12-21 03:14 (UTC)

House's brows rise, and then he reaches down into his pack and pulls out what he has left of the ammonia. He offers the bottle to Rhys. "Burn it down, tiger. There's always firewood in Building 40. Right next to the elementary school." Kill two birds with one stone. And then torch the bastards.

"Graham Cracker and I can take care of the twenty-seven tallies tomorrow." He looks up at Rhys again. "And I need you to avoid telling Wilson I got stabbed." Because he'll want to stay. And as much as House wants that, wants the attention from both Wilson and Rhys, really, it's not what he needs right now. Resources can be better allocated outward. And getting Rhys and Wilson on the Shadownet will be handy.

"Also, I know you're a druid. You ever do anything with computers?"

Rhys takes the last couple steps across the room, and takes the ammonia from House.

"You get me the nicest things," he jokes, a little awkwardly. "Firewood, plywood...Mattress is good for burning, too."

A fun New project!

He huffs, and leans back again. "I won't tell him this time, as long as it's a stick like we got and it's healing. I'm assuming you've got it cleaned and dressed, at least?" He frowns, looking House over. He looks ragged even for House and Rhys doesn't like it. The urge is still there to touch, to fuss, to fix it even just a little, and it's making him restless.

"And I'm about the opposite of computers, honestly. Back home, I couldn't afford one most of the time, and when I could, I had to worry about it randomly catching fire. So pretty much all I know how to do is email and solitaire."

Edited 2017-12-21 03:42 (UTC)

There goes the idea of giving him the hacking program. House will have to find someone else. He's not overly inclined to have it be Angel or Rhys. They're already hackers and they don't need the help. Steph might use it against him. America? America knows quantum computers. He might be a reasonably good choice, actually, and House knows he can order the other man not to break in on his private conversations, and it will be fine. The convenience of a devoted country.

"Fine. You can play pyro, then. That's useful. I've been wanting to torch one of the buildings since I got here. Don't think that apartment where Winter got killed actually burned down on us. Let's see if you get better results.

"And it's clean and under control. Mommy. I had a doctor look at it and everything." A competent and completely unethical doctor, but a competent one who did as good a job as he could.

"Good thing my parole officer isn't hearing this," Rhys cracks bleakly. He gazes around, then narrows his eyes at House at the last poke back.

"Hey, you want me to keep secrets for you, it costs. Especially if I'm gonna get shit if you get found out. I figure if I'm gonna be complicit, I should at least make sure that you aren't heading for total disaster."

He shrugs again. Voice mostly mild, but pointed all the same.

It's a good thing a lot of people aren't hearing this, because House can already hear the cries of 'don't do that, are you crazy?!' in his head. People are way too against wholesale property destruction here. Clearly they haven't been introduced to the egg and omelette principle.

He makes a face at Rhys, though. "Contrary to popular opinion, I actually know what I'm doing." Sort of. Most of the time. All right, on occasion, it gets out of hand. "I know what I'm doing when it comes to injuries. It's been cleaned and dressed, just like everything else." Which implies there are more than just the stab and the scratches, but he's going to keep mum on that. They've already mentioned the skinning on the network, but he's not going to volunteer it again when Rhys is already looking at him like that.

"You wanna help me, my neck's been feeling real sore. Got something for that?" No? They're not talking about that other massage that didn't happen? Good. Then they can leave it.

Rhys's issue with property damage in town is more the fear of creatively horrible vindication, than anything. Stabbing out of nowhere is one thing: the town deciding to burn you right along with whatever you set on fire is another.

But he'll consider it. It would answer some questions, and they've only got so many possible "experiments". And Rhys, well, he's better at burning things down than building them up, some days.

"You know what you're doing, you just don't always seem to do it," Rhys points out mildly.

He seems satisfied, though, at least for the moment.

And at the challenge, he just cocks his head. "Depending on which kind of 'sore' you're complaining about? I've got some chamomile tea for those scratches if you want. If you're talking about the stress you're carrying in your trapezius muscles? That's up to you, too."

They can talk about it if you want, House. But whether you do or you don't, Rhys is still going to do what he perceives as his job.

How irritatingly grown up of Rhys.

House tsks and hunches his shoulders as he leans over the desk before regretting that immensely as it pulls at the healing wound on his chest. He winces and relaxes a little bit from the childish pose. "I hate tea. Save it for one of the limeys."

There are parts of House that both do and don't want to talk about what happened. They should probably set the record straight--hah--on where they stand. But that means getting into things that didn't really happen. Maybe that's just where he should leave it. It didn't happen. And if it didn't happen, it doesn't matter. Except that he can remember if clearly, vividly, and the emotions he'd felt, the things he'd thought. It was a one-night stand and that means it shouldn't be difficult, but it was his first one-night stand in two years (or so he thought) with... a friend. As much as he hates thinking about it that way.

No. It's better to treat it like it didn't happen, at least openly.

"Look, about what we each remember... that didn't happen. Agreed?"

"It's a natural antiseptic and anti-inflammatory."

Not only is Rhys irritatingly grown-up, he's irritatingly competent, too. At times. But he shrugs, only a slight frown crossing his face.

He shouldn't have mentioned mollies, because now he really wants one, or at least some pot. Hell, even a cigarette at this point. He's saving all his tea at this point for trade and antiseptic, which means he doesn't have the luxury of smoking it anymore- just the three precious cigarettes he made with gum wrappers, and those are for emergencies.

Emergency cigarettes. Hah.

"It actually didn't happen, so...yeah. Sure." He shrugs, shaking his head. It's exactly what he expected from House, so...well, that covers it, doesn't it?

Never mind that Rhys isn't quite that black and white, but he's not going to act like it's a surprise. He's going to be quiet, pretend it doesn't sting a bit, and keep wishing he had a cigarette.

"We have a hell of a lot more to worry about anyway. Next week, we'll all be shanking each other again."

As with agreeing to never speak of the time that House was a little boy, Rhys just... agrees. No fuss, no fight. It's strange and feels almost unnatural in a way. There should be more of... something. A part of him wants to ask if it really is that easy to just forget about what happened for Rhys, but he knows the answer is very likely 'yes.' The guy's been with more people than he could probably count off easily. And House knows he is neither a looker, nor some sex god. Better to just not set himself up for the wounded pride.

"I'd be really with skipping the shanking. It's starting to get old. You'd think they'd come up with better ways to torture us than replaying the Top 10 hits."

"Well, pain is a pretty reliable negative reinforcement." The words are wry, pointed.

It's not just that Rhys is good at one night stands. He's also good at burying his feelings when he's in pain. Both these situations have required silence from him, so that's what he gives.

Granted, it's easier with a few Percocet or Valium and a glass of brandy, but it's not a luxury he has here. Still, even if it leaks around the edges he has lots of years of practice under his belt. Whatever that night had been, House wanted his wall and Rhys might be selfish at times but dragging the doctor out and castigating him like a jilted lover over something that hadn't even really happened wasn't Rhys's place.

This is what I have. This is what I get.

"I'm happier when they don't get creative," he adds, rubbing his forehead absently. Last time they got creative, he got parts of his skull re-located. "And this place, our heads mess with us enough without the help."

"You say that, but..." House just gestures to himself and the multitude of injuries he's invited onto himself in spite of being hurt far too many times. "And real masochists do exist." He's looking at you, piercings boy.

"I'll give you the head screw, though. If we get to cross off our least favorites, I'm going with the imaginary future time one. Holy hell is that torture. They don't even have to do anything, just let lack of progress over a freaking decade take its toll. At least it's motivation, right?

"As soon as Stiffi gets here, I'm gonna try to register her as a student. She's our best bet for solving whatever the hell the puzzle is here. Might get us into the chapel, which is gonna get us into that goddamn bunker. We also need to work on contacting the original residents more, I think... maybe some of the previous sessions. I was able to talk to the Russians who've been leaving messages in the Radiation Zone. Remade their map in the shed north of here this morning. I asked them how they went forward and they said look to the people who were here before."

Rhys gives House a jaundiced look, and leans against the counter. "All in the context." He'll take the teasing, even if he's not quite in the mood to retort, right now. No matter how fucked up his relationship with pain was, he hadn't enjoyed being scalped and scarred more than anyone else.

And then he lets House talk. Wrapped up in his own thoughts, about thirty years of failure and loss and the hell that the imaginary future had been for him (he wasn't there and it was his fault, until he realizes the other man is done and that he should probably say something to indicate he's still awake and following.

"Guess that's usually the best thing to do when you're stuck. Go back to what you've got. Cover it again, see what you missed." He pats himself down as if looking for a smoke.

"Fuck knows there's plenty of ghosts and corpses here, if we want to start digging."

As Sharp as Knives

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Let's just... switch to prose, if that's all right.

Absolutely!

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cw: mention of skinning

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Cw: drug cravings

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Cw: drug use, Noisy Black reference

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cw: torture mentions

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Cw: drug cravings

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cw: drug use

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