2019-10-06 - Feathered Friends Fez Society

Bennie has nothing but time on her hands. All it took was convincing all her jobs she's still down with the 'flu' and she's managed to get more time off, despite assuring Sutton she'd be back on duty. Time off. Off time. Time is standing still.

She's already poured through several of Alexander's books - not to mention rearranged them all by the DDS, cleaned his cupboards and every time the cat even goes near the litter box she's already armed with the scoop - so now she's taking all this free time out on poor Luigi. She's already gone through all the tricks that Alexander said he could do, and when he grew bored of those she decided to make him a little fez hat and is currently sitting on the floor in front of the couch, trying to coach the little feathered being into how to wear it. Of course this is difficult when she has to remain out of biting distance, and includes a lot of trying to do a well timed drop from above by the little black thread tassel she's made on the red cap. "Hooold still. Hoooooold still. DAMMIT!" SQUAWK. And this is how it goes.

August is staying with Eleanor, because Eleanor is in the grip of the flu he's just escaped. Well, mostly escaped. But since she's spending most of her time trying to get sleep, he's got a lot of spare time on his hands, and is getting in as much walking as he can. And it just so happens that Elm Street is right over here. Where Itzhak lives, and where Alexander lives--except right now, Alexander's place has Bennie in it instead, and August hasn't been able to stop thinking about what Alexander told him.

He comes up to the house at 13 Elm, figuring if nothing else, maybe Isolde is back from the hospital and being hovered over by Itzhak. And if not, maybe Bennie wouldn't mind being checked on. He knocks, waits. Squints at the squawk within.

"Just a secooooond!" Comes the overly merry reply from within, Bennie picking up her phone to see if she missed a text from Geoff that he was on his way over. Seeing nothing, no warning of who is at the door, she takes a minute to futz with the yellow scarf around her neck to make sure it's laying JUST SO before she unfolds from the floor and heads to the door. Instead of just swinging it open exuberantly like she normally would, she stands just to the inside of it and leans her forehead towards the crack between it and the jamb. "Who is it?" Her voice is dialed down a notch, unsure. Untrusting. These are very new feelings for her.

August recognizes Bennie's voice, mentally prepares himself. "August," he says. "Roen." He adds that since he suddenly feels awkward, especially since Bennie is...well, hesitant to look and open the door.

He's lost a little weight from the ordeal, so his face looks leaner, but otherwise he's his usual self. Still recovering, thus he's in black commuter pants, a dark red slub t-shirt, and a dark gray hoodie under a black leather jacket against the autumn weather.

"And are you currently or have been recently possessed by a murder ghost?" Bennie asks, in absolute all seriousness even though the door opens just the tiniest cracks to confirm the voice, the visage, and the identification all match. Yes, she knows if he had The Billy in him, a thing like a door would do little to stop him. Yes, she knows, even if he says 'no' he could be lying. But yes, Bennie is still taking that precaution because it's the only control she has in this situation.

August coughs a laugh, sad and resigned. "Probably some," he admits. "So if you'd rather I not..." He jerks his chin at the door, "I can leave. Just, figured," his eyes drop to the scarf, back to hers, "I could heal you up. If you want." Also he can check on her, make sure she's answering the door, that sort of thing.

"Some. Great." The whole fucking town has Billy Herpes. Worse, the whole fucking town seems to know not maybe where she is, but why. Bennie pushes the door the rest of the way open, resigned against the inevitable but that doesn't keep a sunshine super smile from being affixed to her lips like it was stamped there. "Come in quick, Luigi's out, and Alexander would never forgive me if the bird flew the literal coop." Normally rather put together in one of her creative outfits, she looks a bit mismatched today in a man's flannel shirt - Easton's - and a pair of sweat pants - Easton's - and that damnable yellow scarf wrapped around her neck. Because of Easton. She ducks her head a bit, skittering back far more than necessary to allow August passage into the house.

August gets in quick, careful to keep an eye on Luigi as he does so. "I could probably talk him back in, come to it. I mean, with," he taps his temple. "I use it on the geese a lot, they're ornery like him." He gives the bird a sly little smile. He makes sure to steer clear of Bennie, giving her a wide berth. He hesitates, then says, "Did you want me to? Heal you, I mean." He can sense it already, the injuries, and given the kind and how she got them, his stomach is already complaining. But at least they're not severe.

"You can do that?" Bennie's voice peaks with honest enthusiasm rather than the saccharine kind at the notion he can use his brain meats to get Luigi to be coaxed. "I mean, Doc Gideon can. I think. But he's Doctor Do Little. Ooh, do you think you can get him to wear his fez? I wanted to surprise Alexander by teaching him, but we've only gotten so far as him pitching it off the table and cussing me out with a look of his little black eyes."

But at the mention of healing, she pales a few shades, hand going to her throat as she clears it. "Really, I'm fine. And make you use your glimmer on something so silly and have you risk more Dark ire?" Even if she JUST asked him to convince a bird to wear a tiny hat. All else fails, change topics. "Do you want some lemonade? I made some fresh..." And even as she offers, even as she walks in the direction of the kitchen, it's without turning her back to August in sliding hesitant steps.

August smiles a little at that enthusiasm. "I might have to work at it a bit, he doesn't know me and all. But the way Alexander described it," he gives the bird a sidelong glance, "shouldn't be too hard." Of course, he'll do it how he always teaches his own animals to do things--with a treat. It just helps he can show Luigi getting the treat for the fez, and thus bypass numerous rounds of 'wear fez, get treat' explanation.

He regrets bringing up the healing immediately, schools himself to not make a face about it. He keeps himself in her view, the distance healthy. "Healing people is maybe the best reason to be at risk to them. And," he looks aside a second, shakes his head, "I'm not afraid of them. Not when it comes to something like this." A small smile. "You're not making me do it. I'm offering. It's mine to decide what's worth the risk."

"So that's a no to the lemonade, or?" Bennie's voice suddenly seems weak. If she were in August's position those are the exact words she'd say. She has said, when she and Easton where on high alert and she went to the hospital twice to heal Ruiz after getting shot at TIBS.

"It's not I can't stand the pain, because I can. It's just that..." Bennie's lips fold in on themselves, rewetted by a hidden pass of her tongue that also suddenly feels dry and course like sandpaper. "I can...I can make out the shape of his fingers, and..." Her chin trembles and she puts fingers to her mouth in a fan before one extends in the request to give her a second.

Carefully, August says, "Sorry. That's a yes, to the lemonade," voice low. He rubs the back of his neck, nods at the held up hand. He glances at her occasionally, but doesn't stare, just waits for her to tell him when she can continue. Or if he should go; either way.

"Mmhmm." Bennie's voice nearly breaks with those two little hummed syllables as she suddenly turns heel towards the kitchen and skitters off. Bennie normally bounds or bounces, but now her feet make quick little sliding motions as if unsure of her footing beneath her. The cupboard opens and claps closed followed by the sound of the fridge doing likewise. She's gone ten beats longer than it would take to fill two glasses and return to the living room, one looking like it already has a swallow or three taken from it. Setting the untouched one down on the edge of the coffee table instead of handing it directly to August, she backs off again. And only then does she start to unwind the scarf from around her neck in slow, heavy movements. She can't meet the man's eyes as she reveals the purple mottled skin that's starting to go yellow and greenish at the edges from natures own healing. No doubt the color matches the splotch on her ribcage.

August fidgets while he waits for Bennie to get the lemonade, glancing around the living room. He's careful not to stare at Luigi lest the shrieking commence. Once Bennie returns, he leans over to get the glass only after she's back away, has a sip. "It's excellent," he says, falls quiet as she starts to unwind the scarf.

He swallows when he sees the bruises, looks away and has some lemonade. "Christ, I'm sorry," he says, voice rough, and rubs at his eyes. He clears his throat and looks at her again. After a moment his gaze shifts just to the left of her; he can feel the other injuries too. He fingers the glass, glances up at her. "Did you want me to?" He asks again, just to be sure.

"Don't." Bennie warns, the single word as fierce and sharp as the Blonde can make it. "Not one single ounce of I'm sorry. I'm agreeing to this because I don't know you that well, August, but right now you I know you can be the strong one, okay?" She pauses a moment with her eyes coming up to lock onto his. A plead there. If she hears more 'I'm sorry' she might just lose what tentative hold she has on her sanity right now. Then, without another word, she tilts her chin up and to the side to expose the whole of her throat to his examination and/or touch should it be required.

Caught off guard by that request, August blinks, taken aback. He watches her, wary, but nods when she's said her piece. "It's okay, I don't need to get close to you. Used to have to, but," he shakes his head. He takes a second to study the injuries, if only so he can get it done as quickly as possible. His stomach's already uncertain about this whole 'healing someone after you just got over the Martian Death Flu' thing. Very uncertain.

His gaze shifts to one side, he takes in a breath and lets it out, nice and slow. The healing's gradual, a little at a time. The bruises fade to yellow, bits going red, then clear; first the edges, then gradually inward, islands shrinking back from where they came. It happens all over at once, the marks on his ribs fading as well, and any other scrapes and cuts still lingering from the altercation.

He shudders when he's done, takes a nice big gulp of lemonade. Sugar and lemons, stomach. Drink it up. Calm down. See? It's fine, it went fine.

They say it's a different feeling for everyone. Warmth? Relief? Release? When the healing comes this time for Bennie it's actually as gut wrenching as August's bodily reaction to absorbing and obliterating the injury. Because for Bennie, it's not that it's gone. But that it occurred in the first place. It starts with just a few tear drops that spill over her lower lashes. Blinked against then clamped down hard against by a shuttering of her lids. Then they just flow until at last there is a heavy sob deep in her chest as she just crumbles to her knees and pleads for him to, "Stop." Even though the deed is already done.

It's done, so August doesn't need to stop, per se. He just waits, licks his lips. Looks down at the nearly empty glass of lemonade. Well, she wanted him to be strong. So, he can do that. He sets the glass on the coffee table, settles himself on the floor cross-legged so he's not looming. "Do you want me to tell people to leave you alone? I can, but," he tilts his head, "not sure you actually want to be. But I'll take your word for it, if you say so."

At least Bennie isn't one of those noisy criers. She stays hunched over and silent for a long piece of time, until feels as if she can move again without shattering. It's as if her eyes are just leaking like an inconvenience as she mops up her spilled lemonade with frantic pats of her scarf. "I'm sorry, I'm being a terrible host, and you've been so kind." She rights her fallen glass, grateful that it didn't break. "Can I get you some more lemonade? And how are you feeling? Did you make it through the flu alright? Nasty thing. I'm still not feeling right from it. Did your glimmer go on the fritz too?" She makes an irritated swipe at her cheek with the sleeve of Easton's flannel but otherwise she's back to acting like nothing ever happened, even studiously ignoring his question.

August watches Bennie, patient and unwavering. "You're not being a terrible host in the least, and anyways, I showed up uninvited. So I'm not a guest, I'm an interloper." He smiles, rueful. No comment is made about the unanswered question. He offered, it's for her to accept or decline.

"Sure," he says. "More lemonade would be great." Figuring on the same interaction, he moves clear of his glass. "If you want, I can get a towel from the bathroom and take care of," he nods at the spilled lemonade.

"Oh, don't trouble yourself, it's my mess, I can clean it up." In more ways than one. Bennie offers August a feeble smile, not entirely hell bent on plastering it on as before, but there is really no telling whose benefit it's for anymore. Hers or his? "You must be tired now, healing always makes me tired. It' didn't used to be so bad before, but now it's like the stronger I get, the more it just plum takes it out of me." The step away from the glass is noted and appreciated silently before she drifts back to the kitchen, part Bennie, part ghost of Bennie. It doesn't take near as long to return, this time with a spray bottle of cleaner under her arm, a rag over her shoulder and a fresh glass of lemonade for August. This time, she's brazen enough to hold it out to him directly.

August is, indeed, dragging some. Probably why he wants more lemonade; to sugar himself up a little. "Okay. If you're sure." When she returns with another glass, he's careful to take it without accidentally touching her hand with his, immediately has another drink. "How're you doing for food? Itzhak told me Alexander doesn't have a damned idea of how to cook, but Ellie's kitchen's pretty stock. I can make you some things, bring them by."

"I'm sure." Even though Bennie's already forgotten about bottle of cleaning spray beneath her arm as she retreats again, putting the coffee table between them as she settles on the floor to the other side. "You know I'm really doing okay! I'm..." Well, there is only so much you can bullshit and try to wave off help, especially when taking this little offered favor would keep her from having to leave the house. "Actually, you know. I could use a few staples? I'm low on cash, but I'll totally pay you back if you could have a few things delivered. I just...I'm not up to running to the grocery store. So yes. Yes. That would be great." She's turning her face to rub it on the sleeve of her shirt like she has an itch instead of just being red and blotchy from crying. "Don't suppose you've heard anything about...him? Is he okay?"

August moves to sit on the couch, again to keep himself from looming and within easy view for Bennie's peace of mind. He sips from his lemaonade. "You absolutely don't need to pay me back. You can make a list, or I'll guess. I'll throw in some of the fresh stuff I brought down from the cabin, too."

He glances down into his glass. "Yeah, ah, Alexander checked up on him. Sounds like he's hanging in there." That feels like the most neutral way to put it. Obviously Easton isn't 'okay', but he's also not on death's door.

There is a spot on Bennie's lower lip that's getting more attention than normal as of late, caught between her teeth and worried as she nods along to what little news about Easton that August has the relay. "Baylee and Aidan have him tucked away some where safe, but they won't tell me where." She tugs the rag down off her shoulder, suddenly terribly interested in fabric as she picks little pieces of fuzz off of it. "So Billy... you too, I mean? Did you do anything...bad?"

"He didn't tell me either." August offers that gently, maybe to reassure Bennie she's not the only one being kept the hell away from Easton. He drinks some of his lemonade, makes a face. "Not--directly." Is it worse, or better, that he just dragged them into Dreams, where their Glimmer and his was uncertain to the point of near uselessness, and they found themselves hounded by monstrous surrealities?

"I had...some of those episodes. You know, where you get dragged Over There?" He glances up for a half-second to check and make sure she knows what he means. "And some people were pulled in with me. And since it was me, the things in there were," his mouth flattens, and he shrugs, "pretty nasty."

Bennie's smile shimmers towards something genuine as he talks about episodes. "That was actually one of my first experiences with," Well. The smile dies. "Anyways it was a crash course in getting to know each other. I mean normally you wait, what...a few dates at least before you bring the boyfriend home to meet the dead family?" Her little laugh lacks any true humor, because thinking about anything relating to Easton now is a little bitter sweet. "Why is that? I mean, you said since it was you they were nasty. Aren't they always nasty? I'm sure you couldn't be to blame."

August winces for bringing up Easton, even if it was accidental, lets that turn into a wince of sympathy for, well, the world's most awkward first date, ever. "Well that beats my worst first date story," he says on a similar laugh.

After a second he clears his throat, has some lemonade. "Not all of them are. They're more like...it's the wilderness. Sometimes it's beautiful. Sometimes it's ugly. But it's always dangerous." Another lift of an eyebrow to see if she's following, then, "Just, ah, I've been through some ugly things, and other people being subjected to...stuff, that comes out of that, it's a not great feeling. So." He fingers his glass, makes a face.

"Actually our first date, I ditched him at Pew Pew Pie because I wanted to jump him in the bathroom. The family thing was when we actually went to jump each other. So not worst first date story but definite worst first 'time' story?" Even now, Bennie tries to be the one to lighten the mood, even if it twists an unseen knife a little deeper.

Bennie leans forward slightly, sliding her hand onto the table as a show of empathy even though its woefully short of offering physical consolation. In return, Luigi squawks and pinches up the tassel on the fez and with a flick of his head, sends it in her fingers direction as if in some protest that Bennie means to make him do tricks again. Fidgeting with it, she caps her index finger in the tiny needle felted hat. "August. It's the nature of this town. It's not your fault. It's like it pulls the thread on the darkest patch of the sweater of our soul and tries to unravel and tangle anyone near in the trailing yarn."

August tries not to laugh, because it's Easton and that digs the knife in for Bennie, except, he can't help but chuckle a little. He nods, manages to sober. He watches Bennie's hand, the closest he'll come to reciprocating the gesture right now.

He watches Luigi as he answers. "Yeah. Sure seems like that. It's just..." He's quiet a second, then, "I hate that it means being around me is dangerous for other people. I use my Gift, they'll come for me. I get pulled Over There, someone gets taken with me." 'Someone' is clearly code for 'Eleanor' in this case. "So. Can't help but feel like I'm responsible, even though the only choice would be to just leave."

"Would it be any different if they had a choice? Because you know, August, in your heart, if given the option your friends would jump right into the fire with you anyways." Bennie takes a deep breath, lifting her chin slightly, "I chose to stay by Easton's side, despite the warnings. I chose because I didn't want him to go through being ill alone. I can't regret that. I can only regret..." Her eyes search the air around them, as if she can pick out the invisible words from around them to finish her sentence. "That it wasn't enough. Are you going to the funeral?"

Another bitter laugh, and a shake of his head. "Yeah...they would," August says, softly. Had, already. Would again. There wasn't any way to win with that line of thinking. He nods at her, understanding, runs a hand over his face. "Still bullshit," he says, in place of 'I'm sorry'. "What happened. Fuck Gohl, seriously."

He does, however, nod about the funeral. "Yeah. The more of a thing it is, the better. That way the bastard fucks off for good. Plus, I can't say I properly sacrificed to him if I'm not there to watch the thing I'm giving up go into the ground, right?" No smile, not even a bitter one, for that.

Bennie continues fidgeting with the tiny fez, putting a treat on the table and covering it up with the cap to the quizzical tilt of Luigi's head like, 'bitch, please, you make this too easy'. She leans back and the he half hops, half flutters over to the fez and grabs the tassel in his beak, working the threads through with a little chitter as his bill clicks against itself, his little tongue tasting salt on the threads until he gets to the end and then he picks up the hat, walks to the edge of the table, and drops it on the brown carpet before skittering back to get the treat. He's going to be a happy plump bird by the time Alexander gets back.

"What do you mean sacrifices?" The question is honest, apparently this is part she hasn't heard.

August watches Luigi, a small, genuine smile forming at the bird's antics. Ah yes, he's got Bennie's number.

The question makes him blink. Well, maybe Easton hadn't mentioned it to her for the obvious reason. Cat's out of the bag now...

"Ah, well, some of Gohl's bones were lost," he says, maybe use of the past exonerative tense. "So we have to give up something of ours to represent those bones, that way when he's buried, he'll move on." He grimaces, sips from his lemonade. "Thing is, it can't be just, some clothes you don't wear anymore. Has to be something important. The more important, the better, that way he'll be convinced to fuck off."

Can the Blonde get angry? If so, the only hint of such an emotion is a little tick in her jaw as she almost literally chews over those words with her lips turning into a thin line. "So you have to sacrifice something important to your person, in order to make his whole. And the hope is, that this sacrifice will be enough to put him to rest forever, and release you all from his influence." The words are all short and clipped but otherwise calm, just echoing back the facts as she is to understand them. "So what did..." She wants to ask about Easton, it's palpable. But at the last minute, she balks, "What did you decide on?"

If anything, August appreciates the anger. Certainly he's been feeling a bit of it himself, especially after that incident in which three people were tormented by his own insecurities over the thing he chose to sacrifice. "Yeah--pretty fucking bullshit, right?" He sighs, shakes his head. "They sure do like sticking it in and breaking it off, don't They," he murmurs.

He can't answer what Easton is sacrificing anyways. But he can at least tell her what he did. "There was an aspen tree, in my yard. It was alone. They're not normally like that. And..." Another sigh. He sets down the lemonade. "The grove was Over There. On the Other Side. I guess maybe, somehow, it grew up in our world, or, the grove grew there when it was here...can't be sure. I was working with it, getting to know it. Learning how to use the Gift with it." He rubs the fingers of one hand with another, like he's turning a ring that isn't there. His expression is distant. "So we cut it down, to make the casket."

A few seconds after he's said that, he gets up. "I should get back. Eleanor's in that phase where you never known when she'll wake up and need help." He only meets Bennie's eyes for a second. "Thanks, for the lemonade. I'll drop some stuff off tomorrow, if that works."

Bennie makes no move to show him to the door, perhaps cemented in place with the implication of August's sacrifice, or from watching that little fiddle of his fingers that she knows well. She gives him a numb little nod, muttering, "Whenever's convenient. Thank you again for the..." Her fingers make a little frustrated gesture at her neck, filling in the rest of her sentence with that movement. "Goodnight, August."

August rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah--no problem. And, sure thing." He stops at the door, glances back over his shoulder at her. "If you need anything, feel free to text, okay? It doesn't have to be me--I know people who didn't get..." Didn't get whammied. Then he's gone.