2020-05-28 - Worst Advice Giver...and STOP CALLING ME CUZ!!!

We won't bother regaling anyone with the time because Grant neither looks nor really grasps time as a linear construct. He does understand how a doorbell works and is chatting it up with a squirrel on Alexander's porch while he waits, and gets comfortable to camp out waiting for him to show up. It's a Gray Harbor Snickers moment to be certain.

Alexander isn't used to people ringing the doorbell, and DOES care about time as a linear concept. Quite a lot, actually. So when he shows up to see who is ringing the bell at a time that HE considers to be unusual, his hair is disheveled and he looks grumpy. Grant gets a flat stare that goes on far too long. "You're the Baxter boy," he says, after a moment. "Crotchbiter. Why are you here?"

Grant is dressed in his usual attire for being out rather indefinitely: hoodie under his army jacket and baggy jeans that somehow all swallow the athlete wearing them. Fingers (one bandaged) push through his purple mop of hair. There's a pause and at this point the name is as part of him as any other. He doesn't bother correcting him on any of those parts. His hand comes up in a fist that nods a 'Yes' in return. Why is he here. Does he even remember??! he turns to point to the squirrel who bailed on him COWARD! Looking back up to Alexander his hands sign in their natural pigeon ASL as he speaks more quiet than intended, "Need help. Advice. From you if you were home." If he's home? He camped out the place.

Alexander watches the movement of Grant's hands, then raises his hands and signs back, tentative and halting, but correct, "Advice? About crime?" Look, if someone's going to ask Alexander questions, it's almost always about crime. After a moment, he steps back and makes a reluctant sort of gesture. "Come in," he says, then signs as a follow up, "Would you like something to drink? I have water." He doesn't necessarily look pleased about this set of circumstances, but at least he didn't shake his fist and tell Grant to get off his lawn?

Grant watching Alexander sign there's a relief that falls on the professional vagrant...with a job...and technically an address. "Thank you" He sigh, and with the invite Elm St.'s third favourite couch surfer steps in with a smile looking around because, hey, maybe Luigi. At the question of Crime he signs, "Nah. Trying to cut back." something s get lost in translation or apparently invitation. There's a pause and thoughtfully his fingers knit together explaining with a thoughtful expression watching for Alexander's reactions on these things, "Need relationship advice. Dad's out of town and You might be my best expert, Cuz."

My name is Alexander. It's very EMPHATICALLY signed, and Alexander repeats it out loud for more emphasis. There's a scowl as he closes the door behind the younger man. Luigi is indeed here. He's inside his cage, but hops up to a high perch to stare with distrustful, beady eyes out at Grant. Like pet, like owner, because Alexander is watching with almost the exact same expression. Not a great signer, he signs, after a moment. Did you say relationship advice? Me?

His hands hang there for a time, before he adds, ME?

Grant watches passively and signs an emphatic Yes. in agreement. Someone really drank the kool-aid at auntie's house.What makes Alexander run is its own magnet for Grant. His head tilts considering if he wasn't clear. A glance to Luigi is given to see if he's following along. "You're good with people so I thought I'd ask you." he does point to Alexander like *yeah you guy. Eyes glance down at his finger to see if it's working right. Is this thing on?

"I'm not good with people," Alexander says out loud, sounding baffled at the idea that it might even have been said. "Are you intoxicated right now?" It's not angry or disappointed, just...confused. But he points at the couch. "Sit. I'll get you some water." As much to retreat from the terrifying idea that someone might think that he is good with people, Alexander heads into the kitchen to pour a glass of water and stick a couple of cubes of ice in it.

Luigi whistles a little when Grant looks his way. But otherwise looks unimpressed with everything the apes are doing. Alexander returns, with water, and puts it on the coffee table. He signs, What kind of advice do you need?

Grant answers honestly with a hand wobble. Little bit. He's honest at least. His shoes are wiped on the mat before going in and he gets a better look around. It's more interesting on the inside than the porch, though the neighborhood is not without its charms. He signs a Thanks again and sits with a sigh. As the protest of not being good with people he signs back, "Isabella? Very nice. I like her. She likes you so I trust you." There's a pause and his hands wave *"Like, as in trust like-like." this is complicated.

There's a sigh and he drinks the water and asks curiously with fingers, his expression and intent a pretty open book, "Your head messed up too right? Isabella said you two, together, long time. How??"

Well, when it comes to ways to get on Alexander's good side, praising Isabella is a reliable one. His expression eases into a smile, fond and small. She is. Very nice. He stares at the man, standing over him, almost, before he gingerly makes his way to the other side of the couch and also takes a seat. He's careful to say out of Grant's personal space. The question makes him twitch. "Uh." He raises his hands, trying to find the words. She's patient. I don't scare her. Usually. And her defenses are strong. I don't overhear much. And I don't take anything she doesn't give.

Grant slouches , bouncing his heels, and listening. He drinks the water. Sadly it's not drugged. No freebies. Really his head in its own way broadcasts a bit. Curiosity, static like flipping through TV commercials at 2am on an old UHF channel receiver, fear, a faint hunger that doesn't really go away. It's all in the body language, but right now while Alexander speaks he tries to listen.

One brown eye squints, "I try, always to make sure I don't get too attached because we...we are a lot. I'm... difficult." He doesn't like admitting it but it's not like it's a secret. It's not like the town doesn't call Alexander Crazy Clayton either. "Not fun. Necessary. I do not like... disappoint people." he signs and the deep breath follows, "How... how do you just... not disappoint her and hurt her? I'm not... I don't want to hurt someone for being all... me. Like and not there's all this space like there's supposed to be - big space- and I don't... want it there? How to people without peopleing?"

Alexander, keeping his eye on Grant's hands, also has to take a deep breath. It shudders a little as he lets it out, and he blinks a couple of times. His signs are short. I do. I hurt. I disappoint. I try not to, but I'm not-- Either he's lost the word, or he just doesn't want to sign it, because he says, "normal. Never will be. It's not just the abilities. It's me." He swallows hard, moves back to sign. But if I was perfectly normal, I'd still hurt her. I'd still disappoint. You don't have to be like us to fail a partner. Everyone fails sometimes, if they care enough to try. You just have to pick up the pieces. And live with them. Try to heal what can be. Try to respect what can't be.

Grant shifts his eyes over him taking in the words, the disappointment, the motes of tension, and the sum of the story, his reason. Nothing lost in translation today. You don't have to be like us... yeah. That. He takes in a deep breath and thinks on that. His eyes squint and he signs, <'And she's okay?'> He's processing this slowly. After a while he speaks, still signing, and his voice is slightly hoarse made better with drinking water. Good call Clayton, "I think I may have fucked up. I dunno I know how to fix it."

"That's the question, isn't it?" Alexander muses, half to himself - although he signs it in the next moment, as well. Adding, I don't know if she's okay. This place is fucked up. And Isabella is vulnerable to wanting to do things just to see what happens. She's good. But I worry that I might hurt her badly. Too badly, one day. He switches back to speech for a moment, to say, "But I'm a selfish asshole. Too much of one to drive her away deliberately. I love her too much."

Then, back to hands. What happened?

Grant flickers a hint of a smile at the reason of Alexander calling himself a selfish asshole. He actually mulls that over a bit. His ears aren't in right now but he seems to be picking things up so long as Alexander doesn't make a habit of covering his mouth. SO far so good! "Yeah, we've had some great adventures. I don't know a Baxter should know what it' like to live with fear. Feels wrong. Don't like it. .'

What happened? He chews on the inside of his cheek and blinks looking away from his unwilling-but-participating cousin. Looking down he signs and speaks, though he has no real assessment of how loud or soft he's speaking right now and relies on rote. Turns out he's mumbling. "Things were good. Real, /real/ good. Maybe too good? It was all casual and we hung out a lot. And then... My BFF's birthday and if you met Sparrow you know Sparrow's Sparrow. She kissed me and that got a raised eyebrow but everything was fine and we all hung out... Then... just... it's been real .." His nose wrinkles and he sighs, "Formal? Distant and... I miss him. I know I just don't tend to /fit/ but like... I am having a big low here, man. I don't like it."

"Oh." Alexander listens, watches, and blinks. This is like /actual/ relationship drama. Instead of what Alexander was clearly expecting, something along the lines of I accidentally almost got my lover killed by hungry monsters or something. He rubs at his face for a bit, then signs, I don't know who he is. Only met Sparrow once or twice. But it sounds like maybe he's worried that what he thought was going on is not. Sometimes people try to step back when they're not sure they're wanted. If you were keeping it casual before. It can be hard to say whether he felt confident. He grimaces, shakes his fingers out. He's not used to signing, and they're twinging. Talked? About feeling?

Grant watches, worried. There's the frown. By the end when he's asked if he's talked about feelings? That gets a scoff, and the inevitable minute shake of his head 'no'. His eye squints 'I didn't want to make it weird?' There's a pause and he sighs with the level of theatrics only 21 year olds truly do justice to. There's the melting under the weight of existential crisis. Yup. Hey Bax. Enjoy that shit. "It got weird, Alexander..." He rolls a look back, "How I unwierd this, cuz? he's actually important and responsible. I don't want to fuck it up" Complete with provocative hand gestures in slang.

"My name is Alexander," Alexander says. Then signs, since doing it the other way around was forgotten. Not cousin. Alexander. God, he has a long name to sign out. He has to shake his fingers again. And the only way out is through. Talk about it with him. What you're feeling. What he's feeling. You'll either work it out. Or you won't. Either way, you will at least know." He sighs, slumps against the worn back of the couch and gives Grant a serious look. "Do you care enough about this guy to stick your head out? Make yourself vulnerable?" Then he signs it, more slowly, and he has to search a while to figure out how to say vulnerable//.

Grant signs back in larger hands, "I just said that!" He sighs as there's little use at flapping hands at someone who is answering their door at this hour. He retreats back into himself signing in earnest, "Sorry.". Sure, Alexander ask the hard questions. Bah. He might as well asked Bax what time it is. A heavy, thoughtful sigh fills his chest. "That's a great...question... I mean I was definiately ready to do transdimensional Veil space travel with em, soo..." Taking a deep breath he sits up and looks to Alexander, "I think it's not going to be more uncomfortable than it is now, so...yeah." Takes a deep breath and offers, *"I appreciate this. I owe ya."

Alexander waves away the apology. "Transdimensional Veil space travel." He says that, because there's no way in hell he can figure out how to sign it at this hour. A low, tired chuckle. "Well, that's something like love, I guess." He tilts his head. "So." Back to hands. Talk to him, Grant. Unless you plan to read his mind, it's the only way you'll know. A grimace at the thanks. "Don't," he says. "You don't owe me anything. I don't like gratitude. Just don't die. And don't call me 'cuz'. That's not even a word."

Grant arches that eyebrow a titch. There's something he's not factored. There' a murmur as he admits, "Yeah he gets fucking hostile when I do that. I made a point to stop. Also ruins Uno." There's a pause and he murmurs, "Too bad, man, I'm grateful." Though there's a curious pause and he sits up looking at Alexander , eyes squinting like curious chestnuts, "I call you that, 1- you are. It's important to me. 2-... is it because me? " Looking around NOW he wonders about this after invading his home at... what time is it? Sighing he asks, out loud as accompaniment, "Don't blame you. You remember that night I was a ghost? Not the time I was set on fire and beheaded, the other time? The saws and the obliteration and the tiny pieces?" His jaw shifts, "Is it because of that?"

Most people do, Alexander signs, although his expression is a touch rueful, considering how often as a kid he did it without really meaning to. And then while meaning to. Because kids are kinda dumb. The expression turns sour when Grant reiterates his gratitude. He looks like he might turn away, for a moment, but Grant's hands are moving again, and he has to watch in order to understand what the guy is saying. So he focuses. His eyes widen a bit. "No," he says. Then follows it up with a single, sharp sign: No. A sigh. It's not you. I don't know you, but you seem fine. For very Alexander definitions of fine. He thinks about the next. I don't like it because our only family connection is through, again his signs fail him, so he has to say, "murderous son of a bitch." Back to his hands. We don't know one another. We're not family. We're just people who have a couple of the same, a long, long pause as he strains for the sign, "genes mixed in. And I hate nicknames. My name is Alexander.

Grant watches with a mix of expressions. Some stings and there rest? Elk disappointing. Then there's a pause and he signs*"No.wrong. his wife's side. I drew the family tree back out when Tim had it. Ghol is married in. I'm not related to him. just you. "*

There's a pause. "Dont have a lot of family. Mom left. Got to take care of what we're do have, man. " there's a pause and he signs almost gunshy "Alexander... really you need a name sign. "

"I don't want to be a Baxter," Alexander mutters, running a hand through his hair and looking away as the younger man signs. "Never fucking ends well with that family." He glances back in time to see the last bit, and huffs out a breath, amused despite himself. It's a lot of letters. Even he has to admit that. But I don't want to have a different name. Clayton? Little shorter.

Grant watches face, fingers, and face again. Here signs Alexander's words back to him "You don't have to be like us to fail a partner. It doesn't end/stop with anyone. This is Gray Harbor here. Change name doesn't change that. We are who we are." taking a deep breath heee relaxes in his slouch resigned, "Wearing a different name doesn't change anything... unless you get married..." reasonably he adds as oof this were new news, "then there's a new tax bracket often and you have to itemize...I dunno oof ghosts have to do that. Il have to ask my sister. "

Alexander scowls. "Look. I won't argue with you about your trips into being dead, so don't argue with me about names. They're important." And to make this emphasis, he repeats in sign, names are important. I don't want a different one. The tax bracket remark does make him smile, just a little, the barest hint of one corner of his mouth uplifted. He signs, Good news: you do not have to pay taxes if you are dead. But the IRS has to agree you're dead, first.

Grant blinks, flinching a bit worth a slight frown. There signing becomes more intense, "Never said change name! Yooooooou caen not change you. This place is bad too everyone. Worse alone. I know. Don't let some fuckoff make you unproud of you are. I can't. We're have what we're have. "

There's a pause and fingers hesitate to sign with no expectation of it making a difference, *"some of us address glad we're have you anyways, but I don't expect you to get that. "

There ghost of a smile that widens as Alexander goes into IRS specifics. Head tilting Bax signs back "I'm wondering if that'll affect my business. I just started an LLC. Pretty excited about it. How you get started anyways? You, self employed. "

Alexander scrubs at his face when Grant flinches. Afterwards, he signs, Look. Don't mind me. I'm weird. He gives the hesitant signs a sidelong look, and after a moment, signs back, you're a good kid. The question startles him. Not a lot, but enough to make him come out of his habitual slump. Just started being nosy. Someone offered me money for it, because no one else would believe them. Took the money, was nosy, told them what I found. Then another person wanted it. And another. Eventually had enough to put things in more proper order. But still do most of my business in cash. Do pay taxes.

Grant takes a deep breath. There's a lot of pieces happening here and Bax's psyche is not entirely placed in the right spot but his intent is. Too old to be a teenager, and too young to be taken seriously. The 20's are a frustrating decade of being expected to be experienced and know the things one is still learning. Oy gevalt. Still the compliment is met with a head wobble that might be resigned optimism or cynical hopefulness.

The story is listened to as he polished off his water. "Pay taxes. Talk to my dude. Try... not to scan his brain." His brow furrows. He blinks and looks up curiously, "Man some days I dunno what I'm bringing to the table." Spoken, but honest. Baxter problems as they are. Signed and spoken he hesitates to ask "If... we go back to the library in space beyond... you wanna go? Isabella and I had a blast first time. Made it mostly out of orbit and everything. When I went back with Vyv it got... odd. Still good. Got some good books from there. Not helping me not be a ghost but I'm learning a ton about interstellar engines. It's neat."

Try not to scan his brain. The signing is solemn agreement, because Alexander knows just how hard it can be not to just reach out and demand what isn't given freely, when you have the abilities they do. Good luck. I hope it works for you both. He smiles at the spoken comment. "I wonder that every day. But you seem nice. And..." he trails off, thinking. He signs, carefully, These things are hard. You asked for help. Didn't try to hurt him. Or blow up. Says good things about you. Maybe not good things about who you turn to for help. But good heart. At the offer, his eyebrows go up. "A library in space? Yeah. That sounds like fun." A brief, but warmer, smile. "Thanks. For inviting me."

Grant holds his hand up like a moon and the other a rocket flying to it and then a book gesture. He looks entirely too pleased about this. Then again this is likely the very same incident that caused him to have an epic psychedelic falling out with space being broken in the Waffle House. Still he soaks up the approval like a sunflower. Still it's a direction and not a fix. He chews the inside of his cheek a little uncomfortably trying to adjust to the idea put forth. At the thanks a small nod follows with a singular gesture for No problemo. Looking around he shifts his weight and pushes himself to a stand. *"For serious, you need help with anything hit me up. I live around the corner from you, ya know."

Alexander rises when Grant does, one hand coming up to stifle a yawn. "Yeah? Where do you live, now that I think about it?" He peers curiously at Grant, before swooping down to pluck the empty water glass from the table, and taking it into the kitchen to briefly rinse. Then he's back heading towards the front door to open it for Grant. "I'll keep that in mind. The offer. And it's appreciated. We'll..." a long, long pause as he thinks about whether he really wants to extend the invitation, "why don't we go for drinks or something, sometime. Get to know one another?"

Grant answers by pointing just there. "Trailer Park. Live with Greg Sumptner. Sometimes I crash over at 7 Oak. Close, here." There's an invitation and the estranged-but-not-estranged cousin turns to regard Alexander like he grew a second head, eyebrow arching, but signs back "I'd really like that. That'd be... really cool actually." There is a pause pointing all over as in 'this' *"Sorry about... time... I'm terrible with it. Late. I'm... just sorry. Wish me luck. I have no idea how this is going to go."

Alexander's hand twitches at the apology. He has the urge to reach out and...do something to reassure Grant. The apologies for being who he is, knowing it's off but not being able to make it something that fits in? Alexander gets that. But when he tries, his own aversion to touch kicks in hard, and his whole body freezes, heart pounding, refusing to make the move he wants to. When he finally gives up, he's sweating a little bit. But he does say, "You don't have to apologize." Then signs it, too. "You're okay." He swallows. "Good luck. Don't die." Which seems a little extreme for a talk with a boyfriend, maybe. But it's Gray Harbor.