2019-09-17 - Bad Science

By the time Corey returns home, Sparrow has relocated. Some quiet, loungey, low-key electro fills the house, filtering out from the kitchen's bluetooth speakers. The redhead has brought her homework, a textbook and notebook sitting atop her laptop, all of it closed and as-yet-untouched while she focuses on her phone, comfortably slouched in one chair with her feet kicked up on another while she waits. "Hey, baby brother!" she calls when she hears the door open. Which will be weird if it's not Corey who walks in, but she's willing to take that risk.

Fortunately it is aforementioned 'baby brother' who walks in, somewhat drenched from the rainstorm outside. He's in his usual cargo shorts, loose vest and converse, and takes a moment by the door to wring out his clothing and kick off his sneakers before coming in, hair still plastered to his head. "Hey Phil. I'mma go shower, I'll be down in a minute," he greets, not even protesting being called 'baby brother'.

"Uh, definitely," Sparrow calls back. Nevermind that she can't see him. "I can smell you from here!" No, no, she can't. For some people, being a smartass just comes naturally. She barely moves an inch while Corey's upstairs. Maybe she's been spending too much time with Alfie, leeching off some of his natural lethargy for herself. Maybe classes have got her exhausted. Maybe she's just really, really interested in whatever she's doing on her phone. Whatever the case, she's still seated right where she was. Only the music has changed, though if he's not familiar with this dreamy, instrumental electro, he might not be able to tell.

It takes maybe ten minutes for Corey to shower, dry off and get dressed again, this time in.. yes, cargo shorts and a t-shirt. Barefoot he wanders back down, dragging fingers through his damp hair, heading into the kitchen and standing beside Sparrow - leaving just enough room for her to stand up - and holding his arms out in a silent demand for a hug from his (marginally) big sister.

Sparrow, too, is barefoot. And already in her pajamas: obnoxiously bright shorts and an oversized white tee shirt with the logo for some tourist attraction in the middle of nowhere several states over. She drops her phone down on the table--a group text, from the looks of it, with unfamiliar names--and gets up to deliver that hug. And she doesn't skimp, doesn't play it up as a joke. She wraps her arms around Corey and gives him a genuine, meant-to-comfort hug. Softer than any of her texting can convey, she asks in all seriousness, "You alright?"

This is just what Corey needs; a solid, no-messing-around hug from the person he trusts most in the world.. at least, most of the time. He wraps himself around Sparrow and squeezes, absorbing all that sibling comfort, holding it for a good long minute or two before letting go. "I'm getting there," he replies equally quietly, flumphing down in the chair opposite hers rather than getting right to work on baking something. "I just.. it feels like something fun has turned dark. Like finding dirty needles at the bottom of a pic'n'mix."

Worry creases Sparrow's features, that concerned expression lingering for a good long while after the hug breaks, like it's just setting in now that he wasn't fucking around in his texts. Once he's settled, she follows suit. And then takes a second to flip over her phone as that group text continues without her attention, all of her focus on her twin. "I'mma be honest, hon. I don't really understand what you were saying. Why don't you tell me what happened."

"So, I get a text from one of my friends. Lilith, the woman from the pawn store?" Corey begins at.. well, the beginning. He slouches some in his seat, getting comfortable. "She's in hospital, wants me to come visit and bring a few things in, so I do. When I got there.. Jesus. She was all hooked up to machines; drips, oxygen nose-thing, bandages and stuff all over. Pale, that kind of deathly pallour, bruises under her eyes, the good drugs on IV push."

"One of your doors," Sparrow answers with a nod, confirming her recollection of the woman before Corey sets in on the story. Though her lips tug down in a small, worried frown, she maintains a bit of reservation as she murmurs, "Shit, that's rough. And, uh..." But the prompt doesn't find any proper finish, empty space left for her brother to fill the rest in.

"I helped her get comfy and she explained what happened." Corey tilts his head back, draping his arm over his eyes. "A bunch of sea creatures attacking her in a dream. A couple of others, too. Hurt her bad enough that she needed all that hospital shit plugged into her." He exhales quietly. "She wasn't out and about, I don't think, and there's nothing in her apartment that could hurt her the way she was hurt. I know, I've seen it."

"Okay," is all Sparrow manages for a moment. It's a lot to unpackage. "Look," precedes a heavy sigh. "There are bad people around town clearly doing bad things, Corey. I get that you want to take her at her word, but have you considered that this was the trauma talking? Or the drugs? Maybe she doesn't actually remember what happened, and this is just something she dreamed up while recovering in the hospital bed in pain. Have the cops been by her house? Are you sure there wasn't a break-in? I am way more fucking terrified of real life murderers which are really really happening right out there--" She even points toward the door. "--than imaginary seals, Corey. There are real bad things out there, and this is probably her brain's way of making sense of something genuinely awful."

"I'm not sure about anything," Corey responds, a blanket answer to all of those questions, suggestions. "But I don't want to discount this out of hand. My dreams are starting to scare me. Ash is so frightened of hers she's been trying to stay awake. This is not the first time I've heard about dreams being dangerous, Phil." His voice is soft, and he tilts his head back up, arm dropping into his lap. "And you know we can do things that aren't normal, and we're just.. going with the flow?"

Sparrow looks to the storm outside as Corey starts back in on worrying dreams, her expression going more thoughtful than she might like, a subtle suggestion that she's got something similar on her mind that she keeps to herself. "I don't understand the correlation you're drawing, C," comes quietly. "It's shit science to assume a direct relationship between two things just because they're both weird. Either tell me why you think they're related or tell me how you want to go about figuring out if they are."

"It's something she said," Corey responds softly. "Those who are stronger - and you can see it, Phil, if you look, those who are stronger with the weird stuff are more noticable. Draw more attention. Get those dreams more often." He sets that out there, offering nothing to back it up and letting her think that through. "Maybe it is shit science, or maybe there is correlation there."

"Yeah," Sparrow clips quick and clear on the seeing it. She knows. Immediate confirmation. Her shoulders roll when he talks about drawing attention like the very idea of there being any attention to draw makes her uncomfortable. Her mouth opens like she's going to counter, like she's ready to launch into explaining the scientific process to Corey because that is a nice, safe, sound, logical place to start. But then she grimaces and just stares at the storm for a couple more seconds. When she looks back to her twin, she asks, "So. What do you want to do about it?"

"Move back to Canada and forget I could ever move things with my mind," is Corey's eventual answer; both true and at the same time not true. Sure, he wishes he could, but there are a lot of things tying him to Gray Harbor. Family, work, studies, friends, even the rental agreement for the house they're in. "Learn more. Knowledge is power."

"Don't be a twat," Sparrow mutters half-heartedly, at once sympathetic--goodness knows GTFO was near the top of her own list--and mildly defensive, vaguely offended that he might leave her and Zelie to this bullshit on their own. You'd think the suggestion of learning might earn a better response, but she challenges, "To what end?" instead.

This time the answer is quick, without needing any thought, off the cuff and blatantly honest. "To protect you, myself, our friends." He pushes up to his feet and heads to the fridge, grabbing two bottles of beer. Both get their caps popped and he offers one out to his twin. "What would you do with more knowledge?"

Sparrow makes a face at that initial answer. No, she does not like that at all. She does, however, like beer and accept it without protest. "Something less vague than that," she suggests vaguely. It's only after she takes a swig and sighs that she provides something more. "Figure out how to hide so we don't have to worry about it at all. So we can all go back to sleeping like normal people and not having weird conversations like this."

"Hiding is good," Corey confirms quietly. "If you can do it." He doesn't say any more on the topic, taking a small sip from his beer and then asking, "Can I show you something, Phil? I want you to stand up, away from your chair."

Sparrow snorts a quiet laugh, taking that 'if' rather personally. It is true that she is maybe possibly the very worst at hiding, rendering her plan of action big talk that's unlikely to work out well. When asked to stand up, she makes a face at Corey, not sure she wants to see whatever this might be in the context of the current conversation, but she sets her bottle down and, with a sigh, gets up and steps away. "Alright..."

Focusing his attention fully on his twin, Corey digs deep into his thoughts, focused only on her in her pyjamas, her brightly coloured hair, her grumbling voice, her making-a-face expression. All of that he wraps up in his glimmer, reaching out with that power to, very carefully, lift her about two inches off the ground. Rather than feeling like she's being grasped, he positions the effect as a platform below her feet, something she can stand on - or step off, should she feel the need. "I've been practicing."

<FS3> Sparrow rolls Spirit (8 8 7 5 5 4 3 1) vs Corey's Composure (7 5 3 2)
<FS3> Victory for Sparrow.

<FS3> Corey rolls Alertness+Glimmer (7 7 6 3 1 1) vs Sparrow's Stealth+Glimmer (7 6 5)
<FS3> Marginal Victory for Corey.