2019-11-16 - Take The Whiskey, Skip The Lipton

A quick 'Back in town, will be by soon!' text from James over to Diana, and then about half an hour or so later, there he is, hoodie-clad as ever, walking up to Diana's front door. His beat up old car is parked nearby, fitting right in with the other cars in the area, and he's got a couple of plastic bags in one hand. He checks the contents quick, before stopping at the door, and taking a breath. And then another. He lifts his hand to knock, and hesitates. Talking is so much easier over text, really. In person, tho? Nervous. Still. She's his... friend? Yeah, friend. And she's sick and if it's that same Hell-Flu he'd had a couple of weeks ago, she'd need a friend. He nods to himself, and knocks on the door. "Diana? It's James!"

The house is pretty run-down, and its siding was once a bright yellow, but that's faded considerably. Looks to be fairly small-- maybe one or two bedrooms, small kitchen, perhaps? The stairs are wooden, painted white, but the white's both faded and peeling, so it's hard to tell in places. At least the door looks nice and solid, a remnant of a time before cheap mass-produced doors became the norm. He hears a soft thud inside, but thankfully before he can get TOO concerned, he hears an added, "Shoot!" and Diana opens the door. She looks... well, pretty shitty. Worn down, nose red as a clown's, hair hanging in her face. Dark circles under her eyes, too. It pairs with the oversized sweat pants and fluffy white sweater to make a picture of someone feeling rotten.
Still, she looks pleased to see him, even though immediately her cheeks turn pink. "Oh god, I look like shit." Her throat sounds raw, and her nose is stopped up, but she opens the door wider for him, apologizing, "I haven't had much time to clean." She wrinkles up her nose before stepping further in, and... well, it's not really that messy, honestly. She's been living on the couch, judging by the trashcan pulled right up next to it and an array of cough and cold medicine paired with a few empty cups on the coffee table beside it. Still, it looks fairly neat. Not very dusty, clearly vacuumed, and tidy save for the coffee table itself, and a turned-over dining room chair that's somewhat near the entryway. She adds after a moment, as she flops onto the couch, "You came." She sounds almost pathetically grateful as she adds, "I'm really glad you came. Thank you. I'm a mess."

"Hi!", James greets, and his eyes widen a little. Yes, she definitely looks under the weather. But the smile she gives him and the pink touching her cheeks still causes James to nearly trip over himself as he comes inside. "You, uhm, you look great.", he starts to say, then smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his head. "OK, no, you look like hell, but I don't mind." He looks around the place, and smiles. "Nice! It's bigger than my old apartment back in NYC.", he declares, before turning back to her as she flops onto the couch. "Of course I came. I said I would, right? You'll feel better before you know it.", he says, and lifts up the hand holding the plastic bags. "I bring gifts!"

A wave of general warm regard coming from Diana washes over him at his correction about her appearance; apparently she likes the honesty. It's paired with a smile that matches, and she says teasingly, "You are a charmer." A grin, and then she breaks off to cough up a storm, turning her mouth into the crook of one arm. "This evening's entertainment provided to you by the Hacker's Orchestra." But she breaks off after he says 'gifts,' clapping her hands together. "You ARE a charmer!" She laughs, coughs again, and adds, "I hope you didn't forget the googly eyes."

James blushes noticeably as those emotions hit him at the same time as her teasing words, and he blinks a few times. Of all the times for that weird emo-radar of his to kick in- though that was a very nice emotion to pick up on... especially coming from her. He waits patiently as she coughs, watching her with quiet concern, but not immediately smothering her with concern either, just quietly making sure she's ok. Her reaction to the gifts, though, brings a big smile to his face. He reaches in to one of the bags, and pulls out another plastic baggie, this one transparent and filled with several dozen pairs of googly eyes of different sizes. The bag has clearly been opened before, so there's a solid chance more than a few of his personal possessions back at his place have been decorated with them. He winks, and moves to join her on the couch. "I've always believed that when a lady asks you for googly eyes, then, by god, you get her some googly eyes."

"Oh, wow." Diana shakes her head, grinning. "You're definitely a gentleman of the highest caliber there is. A woman's intrinsic longing for googly eyes should not-- cannot-- be denied." She nods sagely, and then clears room for him on the couch, leaning over so her shoulder rests against his. She tries to sneak a peek into the main plastic bag, while she's at it.

"That's me, the manliest dude to ever gentle.", James replies, grinning, and leaning back on the couch- just as she leans over to rest her shoulder against his. He gulps quietly, distracted by the light contact enough to not notice her peeking- and so she can spot a bottle of the local Jack Stallion off-brand whiskey with its classic centaur mascot on the front (which, unknown to him, only seems to be sold at places where the Veil is thin, inexplicably enough). a box of of fresh chicken strips from one of the local diners, and a couple of boxes of equally off-brand Lipton soups in bright red, reading 'BIRD NOODLE SOUPS' in a flowing script above a picture of warm chicken soup. He recovers his senses a moment later, and smiles over at her, noticing her peeking into the bag. He laughs, and brings the bag up. "Whiskey. Chicken. Soup. All the essentials."

Diana nods her head agreeably as he claims to be 'the manliest dude,' though the addition of the last bit gets a pleased laugh. She definitely catalogues what's in the bag, and he can tell she's already seen it all by the time he notices-- judging by the giant sappy grin on her face. Whiskey Chicken Soup For The Soul, she thinks to herself, laughing aloud at the thought even as she reaches out to give him a warm hug, and quick kiss on the cheek. It's only after that point that she blushes, pulling away if he seems uncomfortable, and remaining in the hug if not.

I mean, it's just not fair. That sappy grin/leaked thought 1-2 punch leaves him completely open for the knockout punch of the hug and cheeksmooch, and ladies and gentlemen, the dude is out for the count. He's so stunned by the chain of events that he doesn't even realize that the random thought that flowed into his mind wasn't his own. All he knows at that moment is that she's hugging him and warmth is just radiating off of her (though that may be the fever) and she's happy by his side (probably the effect of whatever cold meds she's been taking, only logical explanation), and he'll gladly take it as long as it lasts. In fact, he even slides his arm gently around her waist as she snuggles up close to him. Probably getting snot on his hoodie, but he knew what he was signing up for here. "See? Told you you'd be feeling better in a jiffy."

Absolutely beaming, Diana nuzzles up to him, definitely melting up against him. It's really not fair, no. She bites at her lower lip for a moment, and then reaches into the bag, tap-tapping on the side of one of the boxes of chicken noodle soup. She tilts her head to the side, looking up at him (that's new, and only due to her being slumped over a bit) thoughtfully, though a moment later she looks away, smiling softly. "Thank you for coming over, James. Really. I've ... not been feeling well, and it's nice to have you back." This sappy moment is unfortunately cut short by the arrival of more coughing.

James looks down as she looks up, and yeah, that is an odd sensation for him, but a pleasant one. Her words leave him smiling, a smile that persissts even as the poor woman coughs, and he gently pats her back to ease her. "I never expected it'd be nice to be back, but, y'know... it is.", he says, then bites his lip. "Now, I have a slight problem happening here. Y'see, I need to go fix you some soup, but also I'm, uhm... pretty sure I never want to move from this spot ever again, so, you see my dilemma?"

Diana's still looking away as she cough cough coughs, though she turns to face him rather quickly at the mention of soup. Another quick kiss to his cheek, and she says, "Don't. No soup for me. I don't even like soup. Soup's terrible. Just... terrible." She seems adamant on that point, even as he can feel that rather than it being teasing, as a way to keep him there, there's a waft of guilt leaking away from her. Plus, while she's looking directly at him, she's looking almost TOO directly at him. "Let's just eat the chicken!" she adds, quickly. "Although I don't know how Dayquil and whiskey interact, so I might just leave that to you." At least the amusement he feels coming from her in that moment is real.

There's an ever so slight wave of confusion coming from James that Diana might feel, just for a second, but it disperses as quickly as it came when she gives him that cheeksmooch and then just LOOKING at him like that. He tilts his head a little, but smiles and shrugs. "If you're sure you don't want soup, it's fine.", he says, and shakes the bag a little. "Honestly I'm not sure if these are even good, I found them in the pantry, figure my Uncle must have bought them at some point. Weird how I didn't notice them there before. There was a weird note attached to 'em, but, enh. My uncle was a weird guy." He leans in just a little closer into the hug, sighing contentedly. "... wonder if it still counts as 'For The Soul' if it doesn't have the 'Soup' part, tho. I mean, Whiskey Chicken For The Soul? I guess that works too."

Diana's smile lifts as he says it's fine, but then she looks confused as he talks about finding them in his pantry. "...I have the exact same boxes in my pantry. I thought it was just me. And then I saw you had similar boxes, and--" She glances away, off to the overturned chair, and then something seems to catch up to her, so she smiles faintly. "I was thinking the same thing, about Whiskey Chicken," she says, shaking her head. "Only without the musing on it post-soup-removal." She looks up at him again, thoughtfully, but whatever's being pondered is neither leaked nor voiced.

James smiles back at her. "Yeah, it kinda came to me a minute or two ago, was going to say something but then I got, ah... distracted. And then no soup and Bob's your uncle." He tilts his head a bit. "Really? I guess maybe they're one of those local brands, like the whiskey."

That thoughtful look turns into a light frown, and Diana says, "But you said yours came with a note. Mine did, too. I didn't buy this stuff. It had that note on it, and it was the same brand and everything. I was thinking--" She doesn't finish that sentence, frowning a little more deeply. She rubs her hands once over her knees, lost in thought for a few moments, and he can feel the frustration she's feeling, even though it doesn't seem to be aimed at him. She tilts her head to the side before murmuring, "Guaranteed to cure what ails ya?"

James blinks, confused. "... wait. So they just... showed up? Did the note say something about an experiment?", he asks, curious. Her last words make him frown a little, along with that sense of frustration. "Ok. That's... weird. This is weird soup. Like, ingredient list just says 'Weird, and weird by-products'." He purses his lips, and sighs. "So... maybe I shouldn't feed you the weird soup.", he admits, before glancing back at her. "I mean, unless you want me to. Maybe it gives you tentacles. Tentacles could be cool?"

"Yeah!" Diana says with a rapid nod. "They just showed up." And then he says maybe she shouldn't eat the weird soup, and she confesses, "I wasn't sure if I should have mine or not, but I was thinking I was probably going to. But then I thought, if it's messed-up somehow, maybe I'll save it for when I'm REALLY not doing well, cuz at that point, like, what's the harm, right?" She shrugs, and then laughs at the bits about tentacles. She bats her eyelashes, and then looks away, laughing softly but blushing at the same time. "I'll pass on the tentacles," she says after a moment's thought. Because apparently she needs a moment's thought on that one.

Probably a good thing those thoughts aren't leaking, though her reaction is enough to get James to laugh- and blush a bit himself, amused embarrassment washing over her as the shared laugh brings them closer. "Fine, but if you change your mind...", he says, and shakes the bag with the soup boxes inside. He then sighs, and settles further into the couch and instinctively pulls her just a touch closer. "Weird Soup. What the actual fuck is it with this town?"

Diana blinks a few times as she feels that feeling that isn't exactly the same as what she was feeling, but then she gets distracted by the shaking of the bag, giving a soft laugh. She seems happy enough to be pulled in, resting her head on his chest, and doesn't move from that spot a bit, even as she asks, "...do you really want to know? Cuz I know." Pause. "I mean, I sort of know. I have theories. But not about the root cause of the current state of events, and more about the technical reasons behind some of what happens here."

James raises a brow at her words. "... am I going to need to crack open the whiskey for it?", he asks, curious. "I mean, I'd love to hear your theories. They've gotta be better than mine, which are mostly some combination of asshole aliens and LSD in the water."

"Well, I'm certain those do factor, whether I've taken them into account so far or not," Diana says with a laugh that turns into a cough, before ending up as a laugh once more. She wipes at her nose with a kleenex, and then asks, "Have you ever heard of the Veil between worlds? Or a Curtain between worlds? It's most often referred to as a Veil, though." She wraps her arms around him comfortably.

James reaches with his free hand for the whiskey, just in case his cosmology is about to be expanded in ways that will leave him sleepless and sweating, late at night, eyes staring blankly towards the ceiling as he contemplates the sheer cosmic horror of it all. "... the Veil between worlds? I mean... it's a pretty common trope, so, like, I've heard of the concept. Let me guess: Gray Harbor is one of those places where this veil is extra thin, and weird shit spills right on through?"

Diana actually grins at him grabbing for the whiskey, but it's nothing compared to the size of her smile when he makes that guess. "EXACTLY!" she says, a little too loudly, and it prompts another coughing fit, longer this time. She clears her throat after it's passed, and says again, "Exactly. Many places where the Veil is extra thin, it's just kind of an anomaly; it's there for a bit, and then it's gone. But there are also places where it's semi-permanent, and Gray Harbor is... one of those. The tear here goes as far back as before the first white settlers came here, to the tribe that lived here before-- the Quinault. But given givens, they don't have much to say about it to outsiders, from what I understand. Anyway, the Veil tear here is ... it's large. It is in fact the largest open thin point in the U.S.-- and possibly globally, but I couldn't speak to that. It even shrank a little recently... which is something I can't really speak to, having not been here. But even after shrinking, it's still by far the largest." She delivers that all practically breathlessly, like she couldn't possibly be more excited to share the knowledge, flu or no.

James gives her a comforting little squeeze when she coughs, but as she gets so excited explaining it all, he can't help but smile. She's downright incandescent when she's excited like that, flu or no. "Dang. Good guess on my part, huh?", he says, then chuckles and shakes his head, opening the whiskey bottle as he does. "So how do you know all those extra details, like about it shrinking? And what made it shrink? Because, y'know... much as I love me a little bit of weird in the world, seems like just having a metaphorical rip in our metaphorical pants letting our metaphorical ass hang out to be bitten by the metaphorical wolves doesn't seem like a good idea." He pauses. "Literally."

"Very good guess, actually!" Diana agrees with a quick nod of her head and a seriously fond look. "Well, the shrinking is a really recent thing, and some people just... feel things. Not me-- for the most part anyway-- but it makes sense. I'm actually following up leads about what might've made it shrink lately, or I was planning to before this, anyway." She gestures vaguely to her rosy red nose and the trash can full of tissues. "I have information about a recent putting down of some awful serial killer ghost, too, and people to follow up with, but... it takes time to find the people in question and convince them that I'm not there on behalf of the men in white suits." She smiles faintly, adding with a wrinkle of her nose, "Even if I once was." She shakes her head softly, lost in thought for a moment, and then tilts her head at him. "As a sidenote... you Shine, d'you know that?"

"Well you'll have plenty of time once you're all better. I'll even go with you. Y'know, in case you need a little muscle.", James says, and grins. "I mean just a little muscle, really." Her last words make him blink. "I do? Well that seems unfortunate."

"The only muscle I really want to make time for is your brain, anyway." Diana grins right back at him, and then her smile turns soft at his last words. "Nah, it doesn't seem unfortunate to me. All the most interesting people do." Her smile lifts slightly higher. "The people who Shine are more common here, too, same as thin points... but it's not the norm. The Veil and the Shine are probably related, but I don't have a more definitive guess than that." She pauses, her smile turning self-conscious. "Anyway. THAT is what the fuck is up with this town." She smiles lopsidedly, at her echoing of his words.

James blushes rather noticeably under the beard at her first words, ducking his head a bit, but he smiles sheepishly. "... well my brain's a bit on the pickled side but, how can I say no to that?" He listens as she explains further, then gives a little chuckle at the last words. "... huh. OK. I guess that's a start. I mean, there's a lot to figure out in between all that stuff. But at least sounds like we have a starting point?"

His blush is definitely caught by Diana, whose smile turns into an outright grin. "Well, we can de-pickle it, and then decant the alcohol from it at some point," she gives a soft laugh, eyeing the whiskey bottle thoughtfully. "Oh, definitely! It's a good start, and there's a lot to all of it. More than any one person is likely to document, but... I figure I'll do my best and see where to go from there."

James nods thoughtfully. "Well, that's why it's not just one person. It's two. Or, well, close enough to two. Like, one and three-quarters people." He notices the glance given to the whiskey bottle, and he grins back at her. "De-pickle later. Pickle more now, yes? Mind if I extract myself just long enough to get us some glasses?", he asks.

"Two it is," Diana says, putting emphasis on the 'two' to show it as opposed to one and three-quarters, presumably. "Who better to research a thing than an author, right? You'll do a great job. We'll have to compare our notes!" She nods at the mention of the glasses, saying wryly, "I doubt anyone would want to drink after me at this point. Even me."

James grins, and gives her another affectionate little squeeze before gently disentangling himself from her with some reluctance. "Be right back.", he assures her softly, though perhaps it's also to assure himself just a bit as well. As he wanders off to the kitchen, his expression goes thoughtful again. "... so, about me, uh... Shining. There is this weird, uh... thing that used to happen to me when I lived here as a kid. It mostly stopped when I left, but now that I'm back in town, it, uh... well, it's been a hassle. Maybe it's related?"

Diana smiles up at him after that little squeeze, and she nods. "You better. If you don't get back here post-haste, I'll have to send out the search and rescue teams, and that's just a huge hassle." She grins, and then quiets, her head tilting to the side as she listens to him speak. She pauses once he's done before saying, "It certainly could be. What sort of thing is and was it? I promise I won't think you're crazy."

"On the rocks, or neat?", James calls back as he finds a pair of likely-looking glasses, then turns back to give her a grin as she promises not to think he's crazy. "Oh, no, I'm completely mad. Pretty sure every one of us in this damn town is a little off-kilter, to be able to just live here."

"Hm. On the rocks, I guess. Watery whiskey sounds awful, but being three sheets to the wind and dealing with the aftermath plus more flu... that sounds worse." Diana smiles, which turns into a grin at his talk of being mad. "Well, true. Best to own that kind of thing, I say. 'We're all mad here,' and all that."

James plunks a couple of ice cubes into her glass, keeps his neat, and pours them both a healthy (a word, dear readers, which here means 'not healthy at all and in fact probably better characterized as somewhat excessive') amount. He then turns and gingerly (a word, dear readers, which in this case means 'in the way of a ginger, which he is) makes his way back to the couch. "So, as a kid, I used to hate going to my grandma's room. My grandma, you see, she was one of those people who kept... knick knacks. In specific, she loved antiques, second-hand stuff, that sorta thing, right? Well... sometimes, especially if I was scared or stressed, it was like I could... hear... all the crap on her shelves and tables. Telling me about the things that they were used for before. Real bad shit sometimes. And other times their... voices, I guess? They were so loud it was like everything in the room was screaming at me. It was terrifying.", he admits, shuddering at the memory, before letting out a nervous sigh. "... it's happened again a few times since I got back to town."

Diana takes her whiskey glass from him, taking a 'healthy' drink and leaning back over into his space. She listens without comment or interruption, but her brow furrows in sympathy nonetheless. She kisses his shoulder, and then says, "I'm sorry you had to deal with that-- and at such a young age. ...and I'm sorry it's happened again. Sometimes these abilities are experienced as awesome and wonderful, and sometimes... sometimes it's more complicated than that." She pulls back a bit to look at him fully, then says, "The Shine-- or Glimmer-- it's abilities. Stuff like... reading minds. Reading objects..." she nods to him, there, "Seeing or hearing ghosts that aren't visible to others. Lighting fires without a match. And, you know." She shrugs. "Sometimes moving things with your mind. There's seemingly no limit." Although her passion is still visible on the subject, she's obviously reining it in out of solidarity, given the context she's just gotten from him.

"OK, so I'm an X-Man, but with like a shitty power that causes inanimate objects to scream at him about the time someone used them to pleasure themselves.", James quips, and wrinkles his nose. "You would not believe some of the things people will stick up their butts." He takes a sip of his whiskey, and lets out a sigh. "Though, to be fair, out of all of those abilities I guess I got the only one that I should potentially be trusted with. Because no one should give me the power to light shit on fire with my mind. And if I could telekinetically grab a beer and chips from the other room, I would never have left my couch. Like, ever."

"Basically," Diana says with a nod regarding the X-Man thing, and then can't help but laugh at the follow-up. "I will consider it a favor from the universe that I do not have that power," she says with a faint smirk. "But if you think of it, Cyclops had a pretty crappy power, in that anything he looked at got lasered to death. Anytime he didn't have his special glasses on-- yup. All lasered. I mean, with the help of his visor, it's awesome. But think about the early days, pre-visor!" She shakes her head. "I think-- or like to hope, anyway-- that all these powers have a use. That there's some benefit to them that maybe it takes some training or some special glasses or something to hone." She glances over at the chair lying on the floor, and then tilts her head. "Would you believe me if I said something strange has been going on with me lately, ever since I got sick with this damned flu?" She looks actually a little nervous, on that front.

James is mildly distracted as Diana starts riffing on Cyclops, because he's imagining the lovely, weird little children they'll have after he inevitably marries this woman. He will teach them to play D&D. They'll be whip-smart and get their lunch money stolen daily. The last words, though, wake him from his momentary reverie. "... hmm? Something strange?", he asks. "Is it... is it tentacles? You can tell me if it's tentacles."

Oh yeah, that lunch money is as good as gone already. His question, though, prompts Diana to turn her head to the side, frowning... and then turn back to look at him, face blank. "It's tentacles."

James blinks. "I knew it! No one ever thinks it's going to be tentacles until one day, bam. Tentacles." He pats her hair lightly. "Don't worry. No judgement here. I accept you as you are, and will not stop fighting until your rights as a Tentacled American are fully respected."

Diana can't help but smile at his reply, leaning into the hair patting with a flutter of her eyelashes. "We Tentacled Americans do appreciate your kindness and support." She grins then, and says with her eyes focused on that fallen chair, "I hope you'll forgive me though, as these invisible tentacles just get everywhere, I mean...." Her look turns to one of concentration, as the head of the chair starts to lift from its fallen position, starting to right itself. Not long before it would've been fully upright, it abruptly falls again. "They're just so clumsy, is the thing." She wrinkles up her nose. Her words were calm, but it's hard to hide the nervousness on her face-- to say nothing of the wave of it wafting his way.

The thing with using Glimmer in front of other shiny folks is that they can often tell when those powers are being used- and when she flexes her telekinetic muscle a bit, as it were, his eyes are drawn to her far more than the chair, because to his eyes she seems to flicker and glow as if she was limned in faerie fire, ghostly flames that neither burn nor consume. "... wow.", he whispers, as his own abilities instinctively pick up her nervousness. He still hasn't even consciously realized that side of his abilities, but they're present. "That's... like a violation of every principle of like physics and science we know, you know that, right? I mean, it's also super cool, so, don't worry, I won't call the Reality Cops on you... but... wow. And it started when the flu started?"

Diana relaxes somewhat at the 'wow' which sounds nothing like 'burn the witch,' and even manages a faint smile. "Oh, trust me, I know. I used to swear I was giving in to mass hallucinations, or possibly that I should commit myself. ...but not so much now. And it started after I started getting sick, anyway. I knocked a box of kleenex off the side table here, and I went to fumble to try and catch them and then they just... kind of hung there? I batted them out of the air myself. It's been like that lately. Weird things. ...is it wrong if I say I hope it doesn't end when the flu does, as nervewracking as it is?"

James smiles a little faintly. "I mean.. I guess it can't hurt? I'm not sure I approve of all these, like, abilities and stuff. I mean, I'm not saying we should be burning any witches or anything..." Well, that's a curious turn of phrase, considering what she was just thinking, "... but it makes me worry. Like... everyone likes to think about comics and superheroes when they think powers and stuff, but, y'know, there's also the stories in which the government finds people with powers and steals them away to figure out how they work and dissect them, y'know? Like if word got out there's people who can move shit with their mind, or any of that other stuff? They'd probably have the town quarantined and a nuke or two pointed our way faster than you can say 'human rights violations'. And I worry about that, y'know?"

Diana clears her throat, glancing off to the side at the mention of witches, for sure. "I mean... to some extent you're right to worry. But... I've noticed something. In myself, and in what you tell me about when you were here, and when you moved. When I'm away from areas like-- well, here, where the Veil is thin..." She pauses, frowning, and then continues, "Things don't seem as real. As clear-cut. I'm not sure it's even possible for the government outside of these Veil-thin areas to take it seriously. A lot of people who manifest abilities end up in a mental institution if they talk about it too much, but. Honestly, I'm not too worried about that. I'd love to have my research taken seriously, let's be honest. But by the same token, I feel it's really unlikely. I've seen people Shining or Glimmering, like you, and like a lot of others, here and there. But I didn't used to. I used to think my patients' minds were dredging up the things they saw. It wasn't until I started seeing that Shine that I started to believe, myself."

James nods, wrinkling his nose. "I think you're maybe right. I mean.. I'd... basically forgotten about the stuff that happened to me as a kid here. But it all started coming back to me the more time I spent around here.", he admits, and sighs, leaning a little closer to her. "I didn't forget entirely, though. I had nightmares, sometimes. Vague hazy memories. I spent a few years seeing therapists and psychiatrists, got diagnosed as bipolar a few times. Which, I dunno, I might actually be, but it's hard to know because now I know the things that made me think I was crazy are actually real?" He frowns. "And given the weird shit that's happened to me in the time I've been in town... if all that weird shit turns into that kind of weird memory-dream when you leave? That means I can never leave, because I'll probably think I've gone even more off the deep end and have myself committed."\

Diana frowns in sympathy, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him in for a tight hug, if he'll have it. She says after a long pause for thought, though, "You could go other thin places. They could be thin, just not as thin as here. One of the smaller but also semi-permanent ones. I know that's not the point of what you said, but it does bear thinking about. Just... maybe not New York." And in a much softer voice, she admits, "Although I'm hoping you choose to stay, at least for awhile."

James stiffens just a tad as she tightens her hug around him, but only for a brief moment before sort of melting into it- gently, slowly, not all at once, like he's slowly trying to get used to that level of affection. He nods quietly as she explains about the other thin points. But her last words bring him to a pause as his brain resets a moment. He swallows dryly, and finally murmurs. "... hey, Diana? I... uhm... I like you. Like, a lot. I, uh, I know that, because... fucked up as this town is...", he says, and cuddles a little closer if she lets him. "... right now I can't imagine a place I'd rather be."

That hug turns more gentle after he stiffens, but Diana doesn't pull away immediately. Instead, he's more than allowed to melt into it, and only when he seems more comfortable with it does she give him another squeeze, resting her head on his shoulder. When she hears her name, though, she lifts her head again, looking at him directly. What he has to say gets her cheeks to flush a lot more than can be accounted for by the flu, and she lowers her eyes at those last words, smiling to herself but looking a bit stunned. Maybe there are things she has to get used to, too. She pauses, and then replies quietly, "I like you, too. A lot, even." And there's another squeeze.

James's cheeks are also a bit flushed, but he smiles in quiet embarrassment at her reply, looking down. "Say that again when you're not obviously delirious with the Freaky Flu, ok?", he teases gently, then takes a slow breath, relaxing further into her arms, and bringing up his whiskey for another sip. Despite being more physically relaxed with her, admitting all that out loud a moment ago has left him at a loss for any more words, suddenly shy all over again.