Locus frowns lightly at the mere idea, but the kitten doesn't much seem to care. She does start purring more loudly as York gives her scritches, tipping her head up to accept them.
"...Luna." It had taken a while, but it seemed fitting for her. For a number of reasons.
"...a cat on a leash." You know, he can kinda see it and the image is goddamn adorable. More than enough for his smile to shift from incredulous to faintly sappy before the why of his visit pops up. "Payment for dealing with me and my neuroses."
What's real what's not. All that again just rattling around in his head as he settles in his usual chair and starts playing the usual tune. "Having kind of a moment, you know? Sorta need someone I can't possibly have made up right now."
Just because he's here to ground himself doesn't mean the subject is off-limits, right? Because he'd had a moment too, when Felix turned up, decidedly not dead and--
And he's made his choice. He stands with them, with his friends. Or, well, he sits, moving to set Luna down before taking a seat as well. She promptly mosies over to York to sniff at his shoes.
"North Dakota. My best friend from the project that I hadn't seen or heard from in about five years. And to him it's been- not even a day. He's from further neck than me." And it's jarring, seeing him young. Seeing him here like it's one big fucking reunion and he can't....It's hard to shake. Taylor reaches down to pet Luna's ears, voice a soft murmur.
"I just- need to remember this is real and not sue kinda elaborate hallucination."
"Maybe I really wanted to punch him in the dick for what he did to you." No maybe about that, he does. He will, next time. He'll be ready for him and it'll be a brutal fight. "But I'm up for recommendations. Could be I hallucinate myself a proper love interest that doesn't end up kicking my ass at least once. Or, I dunno. More bros for the beach club."
Locus's gaze averts abruptly at that, taking a swig and letting out a non-committal hum. York had already expressed that his 'date' with Sombra was of the friendly variety, and he...has nothing to contribute there. No matter what Wash might have to say on the subject.
"I'm plenty friendly, that's true. But the only friends that I've made here are you, Azucar, and Parker." Which is amazing after years of nothing but Delta and his own mind chugging in circles. Taylor picks through a few chords one handed, watching Luna wander.
"There were fifty of us. About fifteen in my squad before the project- I lost track of how many people I knew in basic or college... I dunno. Just having a "this seems too good to be true" moment so- either I find a way things are shit or I hang with you."
"I'm not complaining. Simply pointing out that if you wanted to socialize, you would not be at a loss for finding more friends." Not a problem he has. Friends are few and far between, but he treasures the ones he does have greatly.
His eyes stray to Luna, who seems to be wandering back and forth between them, now and then arching to rub against their legs and peer up inquisitively.
"Too good to be true wouldn't be so terrible."
Compared to 'everything being an even mix of terrible and acceptable'.
"Too good to be true edges into the likelihood of unreality and gets damn uncomfortable for me in sort order for so many reasons." Up till he woke up here he'd been working solo, trying to keep his head down, alone except for Delta and kind of wanted for several shades of treason. This? This can and is often too much good at once for him to take at face value.
The kitten helps, though. He never could predict them- patterns and variables enigmatic even to him in their fuzzy little brains. The tune he plucks picks up a different timbre and tempo, something along the lines of his earlier sing-songing.
"Also why I don't go get my eye fixed. I'd be five kinds of fucked up if I just replaced it." And he can. And he might but- then what proof does he have that this is really real? He'd WANT both his eyes back if this was some kinda dream or other bullshit.
"This is a common occurrence, then. Questioning the reality of all of this."
York's come here before, now and then, but it's becoming obvious that this is a Thing. Retreating to the familiar-and-yet-not in the hopes of grounding himself. If finding the reality in all of this is truly so difficult...
Locus frowns faintly. It could be concern, that look. He feels uncertain as to what to say or do, but then? The solution becomes obvious. York needs to know he's not broken, or at the very least not alone.
"It...happens. Seeing and hearing shadows from the past. Occasionally. I assumed it was simply something you became accustomed to, over time."
Which is probably as close as he's ever come to admitting that out loud. It's weakness, he knows that, but this is important enough to warrant the disclosure. Better someone he knows than some cold, clinical doctor trying to find the cracks where they've been damaged over the years.
"...for me, yeah." SO he comes here to Locus- someone familiar and safe without being too familiar or disconcertingly normal. Just. An acceptable level of normal now compounded by adorable kittens and their mutual ghosts swinging in to give them both a solid rattle. It's- probably somewhat healthy. He should be going to the doctor to talk his way through these moments (he does when it's that bad) but for things like this?
Someone he trusts and isn't from back home when he was there is enough.
Sure he's more than a little cracked but they all are, right? This is his specific flavor of busted. At least it's one he can manage.
"Yeah- I mean. I didn't even respond when he saved me on the mission or spoke because I'm that goddamn used to hearing his voice in the back of my head telling me not to be a dick or whatever and figured Cortana caught that blast in a bubble shield. Weirded him out. Weirded me out too." The tense set to his shoulders eases. Okay.
"Considering the circumstances...weird is somewhat to be expected."
They're all being pulled from different worlds, different points of time, and fighting this galactic-level of evil alongside superheroes in spandex. Weird is kind of relative here, York. You're not crazy for having an occurrence.
"At the very least, it was a friendly face. Someone you missed hearing, correct?"
"Weirder than usual." Which is pretty damn relative. But- he's not wrong. It's good to see North, even if it was in medical and all cut up and that brought up all kinds of old memories he'd rather not look at too hard. "WE tried to keep in touch while on the run but- you know. On the run. And I've missed him but-"
Trusting this- trusting it's okay to trust this? Taylor shakes his head, setting his guitar aside in favor of scooping Luna up for the moment. "It's the kinda thing I'd make up to make this place more familiar or better or whatever."
"...what would help?" He's not sure if he needs to be convinced that yes, it is really, or if he simply needs space from the new information in order to process it. Locus considers his own tactics, but...
Generally, both imagined and real, he tends to ignore Felix. And Wu hasn't crossed his mind in a long, long time, not in the ways he used to. Back when he still served as something of a conscience. Before Felix got more convincing.
He reaches to rub at the scruff of his chin, eyes drifting to the kitten, who flops and rolls in York's hands.
"Being here usually does it." Take that as you will, Locus. That he's become Taylor's safe haven when his head shoves everything into the thoroughly unreal category? Probably says something about trust or whatever but he's alright for now.
With great care (cuz she is tiny and adorable and not his) Taylor teases Luna's paws and belly, smiling faintly at her antics.
"I mean if shit hurts it's probably real but I don't want a black eye. Maybe physical contact?" Which Locus is usually touchy about (ha).
Locus appears to consider this with grave intent, brow furrowing. Finally, when it seems he's decided on a course of action, he shifts closer. Closer, until his shoulder brushes against Taylor, and for anyone else it'd be casual. Where Locus is concerned? The effort is painfully obvious.
It's the tiniest thing, the steady brush of Locus' shoulder against his- but he's trying. He's initiating. He's being supportive and that's reason enough for Taylor to tip over that last little bit and lean properly, tension winding out little by little.
This is real. He is here. Locus is here. Luna is fucking adorable. "...Thanks."
It's not so different from the way York had leaned against him during movie night, all that time past, and it's not uncomfortable in the way it might be with anyone he didn't know. York was safe and trusted, and this was something that would help him. So, it seemed fitting to offer.
Still, some of the tension in his own frame releases as York relaxes, eyes falling to the kitten, who is now grooming the pads of York's fingers.
"Oh yeah. She'll be grooming your eyebrows if you let her." Cats do that, right? Right. He turns his fingers around, giving her as much or as little to play or groom as she likes. It's hard to hold onto how the world goes sideways and wrong in his head when he's got a fuzzball in his lap being adorable and a solid presence to his right saying this is real.
Or. Well. Implying, but the implying for him is enough right now.
He's more fragile than he first appears. But they've been battered and broken by the world in more ways than one. He endures, if not in his world than in this one, and Locus would do most anything to see that continue. They are, after all, friends.
No further examination needed.
Humming in agreement, he lets his arm shift, letting York settle in a little further before carefully curling his arm. Is this right? This seems like it should be right.
"She is not as invasive as I first feared, fortunately."
"Cats are pretty self reliant- you might wanna start setting up things for her to sleep on or climb on." Bring a little life to this rather...spartan space.
Locus is allowed creature comforts too. Without thought Taylor lets his head tip to the side, resting his cheek against Locus' shoulder.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Still she's... cute, and tiny, and he reaches out to rub his fingers against the softness of her chin. "What's her name?"
Now he steps inside, entranced by the kitten and idea of locus with one.
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Locus frowns lightly at the mere idea, but the kitten doesn't much seem to care. She does start purring more loudly as York gives her scritches, tipping her head up to accept them.
"...Luna." It had taken a while, but it seemed fitting for her. For a number of reasons.
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And he is observant. "And she's got though trained already, huh?"
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Meanwhile, he sees no reason she can't continue to wander about as she has been, but time would tell.
A glance is given to the cider York brought with him. "Is there an occasion?"
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What's real what's not. All that again just rattling around in his head as he settles in his usual chair and starts playing the usual tune. "Having kind of a moment, you know? Sorta need someone I can't possibly have made up right now."
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Just because he's here to ground himself doesn't mean the subject is off-limits, right? Because he'd had a moment too, when Felix turned up, decidedly not dead and--
And he's made his choice. He stands with them, with his friends. Or, well, he sits, moving to set Luna down before taking a seat as well. She promptly mosies over to York to sniff at his shoes.
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"I just- need to remember this is real and not sue kinda elaborate hallucination."
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Oh look at that. The dry sense of humor makes an appearance, now of all times. Lips twisting wryly, he reaches for the cider.
"I could have recommended a better past partner."
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"You don't seem to have trouble making friends."
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"There were fifty of us. About fifteen in my squad before the project- I lost track of how many people I knew in basic or college... I dunno. Just having a "this seems too good to be true" moment so- either I find a way things are shit or I hang with you."
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His eyes stray to Luna, who seems to be wandering back and forth between them, now and then arching to rub against their legs and peer up inquisitively.
"Too good to be true wouldn't be so terrible."
Compared to 'everything being an even mix of terrible and acceptable'.
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The kitten helps, though. He never could predict them- patterns and variables enigmatic even to him in their fuzzy little brains. The tune he plucks picks up a different timbre and tempo, something along the lines of his earlier sing-songing.
"Also why I don't go get my eye fixed. I'd be five kinds of fucked up if I just replaced it." And he can. And he might but- then what proof does he have that this is really real? He'd WANT both his eyes back if this was some kinda dream or other bullshit.
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York's come here before, now and then, but it's becoming obvious that this is a Thing. Retreating to the familiar-and-yet-not in the hopes of grounding himself. If finding the reality in all of this is truly so difficult...
Locus frowns faintly. It could be concern, that look. He feels uncertain as to what to say or do, but then? The solution becomes obvious. York needs to know he's not broken, or at the very least not alone.
"It...happens. Seeing and hearing shadows from the past. Occasionally. I assumed it was simply something you became accustomed to, over time."
Which is probably as close as he's ever come to admitting that out loud. It's weakness, he knows that, but this is important enough to warrant the disclosure. Better someone he knows than some cold, clinical doctor trying to find the cracks where they've been damaged over the years.
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Someone he trusts and isn't from back home when he was there is enough.
Sure he's more than a little cracked but they all are, right? This is his specific flavor of busted. At least it's one he can manage.
"Yeah- I mean. I didn't even respond when he saved me on the mission or spoke because I'm that goddamn used to hearing his voice in the back of my head telling me not to be a dick or whatever and figured Cortana caught that blast in a bubble shield. Weirded him out. Weirded me out too." The tense set to his shoulders eases. Okay.
Maybe this is their flavor of busted.
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They're all being pulled from different worlds, different points of time, and fighting this galactic-level of evil alongside superheroes in spandex. Weird is kind of relative here, York. You're not crazy for having an occurrence.
"At the very least, it was a friendly face. Someone you missed hearing, correct?"
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Trusting this- trusting it's okay to trust this? Taylor shakes his head, setting his guitar aside in favor of scooping Luna up for the moment. "It's the kinda thing I'd make up to make this place more familiar or better or whatever."
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Generally, both imagined and real, he tends to ignore Felix. And Wu hasn't crossed his mind in a long, long time, not in the ways he used to. Back when he still served as something of a conscience. Before Felix got more convincing.
He reaches to rub at the scruff of his chin, eyes drifting to the kitten, who flops and rolls in York's hands.
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With great care (cuz she is tiny and adorable and not his) Taylor teases Luna's paws and belly, smiling faintly at her antics.
"I mean if shit hurts it's probably real but I don't want a black eye. Maybe physical contact?" Which Locus is usually touchy about (ha).
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Look, this is all very new to him.
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This is real. He is here. Locus is here. Luna is fucking adorable. "...Thanks."
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Still, some of the tension in his own frame releases as York relaxes, eyes falling to the kitten, who is now grooming the pads of York's fingers.
"She's quite fastidious, for a kitten."
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Or. Well. Implying, but the implying for him is enough right now.
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No further examination needed.
Humming in agreement, he lets his arm shift, letting York settle in a little further before carefully curling his arm. Is this right? This seems like it should be right.
"She is not as invasive as I first feared, fortunately."
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Locus is allowed creature comforts too. Without thought Taylor lets his head tip to the side, resting his cheek against Locus' shoulder.
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