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[agnominal]

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[goddamngrenades]

I do, when I know where I am and who they are and where we all stand. This is...it's not like a military base. I don't know enough about what's going on to really...contribute. Right now my rank means bubkis.

[agnominal]

It's all very strange.

[ There's a moment's pause, careful deliberation over the correct words to choose. ]

You helped me feel comfortable here.

[ He doesn't know how, or how to replicate those efforts exactly, but he'd be willing to try. Taylor is a good person, and it seems only fair. ]

[goddamngrenades]

I'm good at that, it's part of why I got my rank. Observation and conversation. [ But it's nice to know he uses that for good later in his life. ] Honestly? Knowing I had someone to check in on and talk to helped a little. You're not one of my boys but we're-

Friends? Right?

[agnominal]

[ There's a quiet, almost shy smile before Sam nods. Just a slight tip of his head. ]

Yes. We are friends.

[ And isn't that something remarkable all on its own? ]

[goddamngrenades]

So I probably consider myself a little responsible for you. That's something normal to me, here and now. [ Something he never loses as he gets older. ] You seem like a nice guy.

[agnominal]

Maybe. But I don't have many friends.

[ And yet, when Taylor told him? He'd found reason to believe it. He had a way of just setting you at ease, without trying. Even Sam, ever socially cautious and fearful of saying or doing something 'weird' or off-putting, felt relaxed in his presence.

As he does now, even with Taylor presenting very differently from normal. ]

[goddamngrenades]

Bullshit. Everyone needs a chill introvert in their social circle. [ It's a thing, right? Right. IF it isn't it damn well should be. ] Clearly you're mine.

[agnominal]

[ And that shy smile broadens as he shrugs, reaching to rub lightly at the back of his neck. Well, that's one way of putting it. ]

If you say so.

[ Right. He's just going to...avoid saying anything stupid. Yes? Yes. ]

[goddamngrenades]

Not quite sure what role in your social circle I take, but it usually is explained to me as 'helpful goofball' back before Basic. Now it's 'Team Dad.'

[ Which isn't something he's all that bothered by. His people are his people and he keeps an eye on them. Keeping an eye on Sam? Not a burden. ]

[agnominal]

I'm not sure. We talk. Sometimes we don't. You play your guitar and play with my cat.

[ He shrugs again, eyes straying to the sea of stars. ]

We're just...around each other sometimes. Not always for anything in particular, if that makes sense.

[goddamngrenades]

That sounds pretty...effortless. [ It's not said as a negative, more with thoughtful consideration. ] Low stress. Uncomplicated.

[agnominal]

It is. I think with everything that happens here, you might need it as much as I do.

[ Lest he think all of this is just a series of him doing Sam favors. ]

[goddamngrenades]

Going from the pretty stressed out log I left myself in case this happened to me? I'm inclined to agree. [ He doesn't have the full picture- but what he does have? Seems like enough to put that much together. ] Good to know I've got a place like that with you.

[agnominal]

Not just me.

[ He's quick to point that fact out, as his gaze shifts sideways and he looks mildly...embarrassed isn't quite the word, but it's close. ]

But, yes. Whenever you want it.

[goddamngrenades]

Mind having me noodle around on my guitar with you now? I gotta find the thing first but-

[ It'd be nice, that quiet place. Calm companionship. ]

[agnominal]

Not at all. I think you left it in your biome.

[ That was where it was most often, in any case. Tucked into a corner of that cozy little Texas homestead that he sometimes retreated to as well, when he was older.

This. This was something. Friendship? Maybe. But it was something, the way they turned to lean on each other like this. He wasn't sure how to feel about it still...only that Taylor's smile tended to have his stomach in quivering knots for reasons he couldn't specify. ]

[goddamngrenades]

In the house? [ Gabriel (North, the notes said), implied it was a friend's and that- well that friend must be him. Okay, cool, he knows where to find it. ] I can put on a pot of coffee and we can just-

[ Vague handwaving goes here, less awkward and flippant and more simply for the sake of motion. Chilling isn't the right word, nor is relaxing. Just. Existing around one another. He doesn't remember this kid but- he feels comfortable here. It feels calm in the back of his head like it usually isn't when he's got too much time to think. ]

[agnominal]

Sure. I like it there, I just didn't want to hang around on my own if you weren't there. It seemed inappropriate.

[ But being there with him? Yeah. He can definitely think of worse ways to spend an afternoon. ]

[goddamngrenades]

If you could've gone in on your own you're welcome to. Apparently I am as just as twitchy about security when I'm older as I am now- strict protocols have been programmed into the biome. You're on the 'always acceptable' list.

[ It's a short list, but he's right up there on the top. ]

[agnominal]

Oh. I didn't realize.

[ But the revelation clearly pleases him, as he straightens slightly.

But he still hesitates, still subtly waiting​ to follow York's lead. ]

[goddamngrenades]

[ Taylor levers himself off the railing and motions for Sam to follow; it's just a short walk, which he prefers over the whole flying business. Too weird.

Soon as they hit the cool east texan air he's a little more relaxed. This is familiar, this is safe, and he's got good company. ]

[agnominal]

[ Sam trails, observing the lay of the land. This is where Taylor feels most at home. A replica of his own home. His own area is far less inviting, on the whole.

Why is that, he wonders? Why didn't he also think of home when offered somewhere to call his own? ]

Did your notes...say anything else about me?

[goddamngrenades]

That you're introverted but not entirely antisocial, you like music, your cat, don't much care for beer, green's a color that you prefer or gravitate too, you're warm, favor your right side for leaning into a grapple when we're sparring, prefer latin cuisine if I get up the guff to cook, actually have a dry sense of humor contrary to popular belief, and have more patience with my quirks than most.

[ A thorough rundown of what he could recall as he lets Sam inside, flicking on the lights. Warm. Cozy. The guitar's propped up next to the sofa, waiting to be played. ]

[agnominal]

[ It's startling to hear, even if he'd asked, exactly how much detail Taylor put into remembering him. But surprising? No. He's not surprised. Not really. Taylor had said they were friends, and Sam trusted that fact wholly and utterly. ]

Now I feel a little foolish for not having left myself a list.

[ With a shy quirk of his lips, he lets himself in, instinctively moving towards a spot on the couch that feels like 'his'. ]

[goddamngrenades]

It also has listed that you were among the first to change so- maybe you didn't get a chance to before people got wise about this happening? IF you want you can do like me and leave your future self a letter.

[ Seriously, he needs to be more professional in his correspondence if he's gonna write it up like a damn briefing. ]

Comfy? [ He puts a pot of coffee on for himself but it'll be brewed soon enough. Locus/Sam's sofa has a green throw- something York had knit on a whim a month or so ago. All neat lines in geometric shapes in soothing shades of green and grey. Taylor shifts himself to pull up the guitar, fingers finding the frets like keys to a lock. ] Got any requests?