2021-11-19 - The Reappearing Man

Late evening finds Perdita Leontes alone in her building. What possessed her to buy the building is anyone's guess, including hers, since she's conveniently missing several months of her life, but... it's hers now, and hers alone, for the time being. The first floor doors have been secured properly for the evening, though she knows she's going to need to upgrade the security on the place sometime soon... she could have picked those locks after her first week on the streets.

Not that locks are going to stop dishonest people, anyway. Locks are to stop the occasional opportunist, not a professional. She walks the fourth floor hallway, surveying the damage and writing notes to herself in a notebook. Dressed in an oversize jumper that hangs from one shoulder and a pair of fitted jeans and sneakers, her long hair has been pulled up into a ponytail, and her face is, for a change, without any make up. She looks into unit 404, sighing, because this office has been particularly trashed. What were once beautiful wood paneled walls have been gouged and scraped, water damage from unit 504 has seeped down along the ceiling, meaning the drywall will need to be replaced, and an unpleasant odor that smells a lot like dried blood lingers in the air, causing her nose to wrinkle. "What was I thinking?" she asks softly, before closing the door as firmly as possible to keep the smell in. It doesn't stay closed, however, because the building has had most of the doorknobs stolen by junkers.

Even if the doorknob and latch were still there, the door wouldn't have, it appears, stayed closed. A hand of seconds after the door is closed it SLAMS open once more, a disheveled man barelling out, shoulder slamming the opposite wall before he reaches back to close the door and lean back against it, breathing heavily, several deep breaths before he looks around with wide, slightly wild eyes.

He probably looks like the exact sort of people a new building owner would be trying to keep out. His skin is dark, partly his complexion, mostly dirt. Cargo shorts probably started their existence as pants, judging by the frayed edges, and his feet are bare and visibly calloused. His shirt is missing entirely, leaving his lean, more-than-slightly malnourished frame in full view.

His eyes fall on Perdita almost immediately and he turns to face her in a defensive crouch, one arm extended out in front of himself, palm out, fingers spread.

"Who-," he rasps, before clearing his throat and trying again. "Who are you?" he manages, a hint of London in his voice.

She had been a couple feet down, looking into the next room and noting damage, when the door slams open and a strange man is bursting through. There's a high pitched exclamation from the young woman, in a foreign language with a vaguely Slavic sound. "Swáko ges, nasulil-pe mai but!!"

She takes several dancing steps backward, her long ponytail swinging as she does. "I own this place, who the hell are you?" she gestures with the notepad with one hand, and is holding the pencil like an experienced knife fighter, the point almost parallel with her forearm, clearly ready to defend herself if this man decides he's trouble... though she seems more startled and worried than angry. "That... that room was just empty, I checked it."

The stranger blinks several times, then his eyes narrow slightly. A small trail of blood runs down from his nose, but he ignores it. "You.... own this building." It's not a question. He turns back to the door and pulls it open, looking across and out the window before turning back to Perdita.

"...this is going to sound crazy," he says slowly, holding both hands up and wide, very clearly trying to make himself as unthreatening as possible, "...but what's the date?" he asks slowly, voice getting clearer as he catches his breath. Definitely a London accent.

"Yeah, I had to check the deeds to make sure, but it's apparently legally mine, paperwork is physically filed and everything." Dita offers by way of explanation, sighing. "What the hell I was thinking, I don't know, but... here we are. Dead bodies in the basement, shirtless men exploding out of offices... It's November 18th... no, 19th." a brief pause, "Uh... 2021." she amends, since that... helps.

The young woman seems to take a few seconds to think, then sighs. Kindness is going to get her killed, but hopefully not tonight. "Look, it's freaking cold, it's like... one AM, you're bleeding, and you don't have shoes. Or a shirt." she points out, her gaze lingering on Garrett's malnourished frame with a bit of worry. "If I let you into my apartment, are you going to try and hurt me?"

"Dead...?" Garrett looks confused, then concerned when she says November, before his face goes slack. "2021," he repeats, shaking his head. "You bloody assholes!" he yells towards the empty room before shaking his head and turning back to Perdita. "That is... very kind of you," he says slowly. "I... I think I'd appreciate that. And I promise not to try and hurt you," he confirms with an absolutely exhausted nod. The mention of the cold seems to make Garrett finally notice it and he shivers slightly, trying and failing to run fingers through his thoroughly tangled and knotted hair.
" I, uh... I'm Garrett," he offers after taking just a moment to think.

"... I'm guessing it wasn't 2021 when you disappeared." Perdita says, deadpan, more a statement of fact than a question. She begins leading the way toward one of the elevator, one of the few mostly undamaged structures on this floor, its painted Art Deco style doors opening as Perdita hits the button.

"I'm Perdita. Nice to meet you, Garrett. Try to excuse the mess, I haven't... really... I lost three months and when I woke up I was in a strange apartment with a cat I didn't have three months prior, and I'm pretty sure I bribed someone or hooked up with the fire inspector to get this place checked as up to code for human habitation because holy shit is it a mess." She sounds a little... overwhelmed, as she steps into the elevator. "I... probably have something that'll fit you, but shoes... we'll need to sort out in the morning." This is a project she can handle. No dead bodies, just a random guy showing up at her apartment at 1am. Typical Thursday night stuff for Perdita Leontes.

"Just so you know, we're in Gray Harbor, Washington. I don't know where you went in, but you don't sound like a local."

Garrett follows Perdita towards the elevator, half lost in thought, but lets out a small, tired, half-laugh at the persuading the fire inspector to approve the place to habitation. "Three months..." he echoes, shaking his head. "Assholes," he grumbles.
"Hopefully I can get a hold of my old landlord in the morning, maybe he's got my stuff in a storage bin somewhere or other," he muses, half to himself. "Have to say, you're being remarkably calm and kind about this," he points out, slowly becomes more human as the reality that he's back in.... well, reality, sets in. The mention of where they are gets a small nod. "Good."

"Last week me, the Danish Count that's my closest friend in this town, and the paranoid crime obsessed conspiracy theorist who's kind of, like, a hot angry homeless guy? Met the ghost of a little boy that told us where to find his body. Two weeks ago, I got dragged down the street in an Elvira costume on my fake tits by angry goblin toddlers, after one of the little fuckers cut me. This?" she gestures at Garrett with one hand, her manicured stiletto nails catching the light in the elevator briefly, "You're not trying to kill me, you're not trying to hurt me, and you're not trying to eat me. So far? Win." the elevator lurches a little as it hits the sixth floor, then continues on to the seventh. "Come on, the penthouse has its own elevator." She leads the way again as the doors open.

This floor is in much better shape, with once luxurious red carpet still intact and only the occasional paint chip. Some of the office space doors actually have doorknobs, even. This elevator has a bit more glamor. Clearly the previous owners only really cared about areas where they were inconvenienced by deterioration. %
The elevator opens with a little key to unlock the controls, and Dita leads the way up and into the penthouse... which is mostly empty. A couch, a television, a fireplace that has a small fire banked in it. A black kitten who looks to be a few months old is curled up on the couch, cracking open one golden yellow eye to stare at the pair as they enter. The space is much warmer than the other floors, and looks to have been well loved by prior tenants. Before the lights flick on, the view of the city is particularly appealing, faint lights from the other buildings further down, the water of the harbor, and the bridge and trees in the distance. "Bathroom's in there, if you want to wash up." She looks Garrett over, fully, head tilting a little as she does some mental math, then nods. "I'll be back in a minute." she heads into the main bedroom, which seems to mostly just be a bed and a wardrobe, and pulls a suitcase out from under the bed... one of... several. This woman is clearly a clothes horse.

"Lucky me the bar was set so low, I guess?" Garrett tries to joke, but his heart isn't in it. He looks around as the building slowly becomes more like a place people would actually live. Walking into the penthouse proper, he lets out a soft sigh and gives his limbs a little shake, letting the warmth seep into him, eyes drifting closed for a few long moments. "I don't know any Counts. Or crazy homeless people. But I'm not in the loop these days," he says, eyes still closed. He lingers by the fireplace a few moments before nodding. "Bathroom. Clean, running water. Yes. That." He shuffles off in that direction, and it doesn't take long for the sound of running water to come drifting out as Garrett makes another important step back towards being a functional human.

The bathroom is fully stocked with shampoos and conditioners, hair moisturizers, hair masks... the girl takes care of her hair. Clean towels sit neatly folded on top of an old wooden table that's seen better days, but is at least clean, and the water runs hot fairly quickly.

While Garrett's in the living room, Perdita snaps out her phone and shoots off a text to someone. The suitcase is rifled through and clean clothes are pulled out after a moment of thought and wrapped in a tidy bundle, left by the bathroom door... and then Dita's in the kitchen, washing her hands, and popping a bagel into the toaster. The kitten follows her in, and she shrugs slightly at the furball, like 'what are you gonna do?' before setting out some condiments to go with the bagel, which starts to smell of toasted carbohydrates soon enough.

Garrett is not particularly quick with getting cleaned up. Given the shape he was in, that's probably not a surprise. Eventually, though, the sound of running water stops. A few minutes later the door opens and briefly reveals a damp, but clean, Garrett, towel wrapped around his waist. Whatever. he was doing whole he was gone, he must have been active, because malnourished as he clearly is, the muscle that's there is wiry and hard. But the sight is only there for a moment before he spots the clothes and manages to put two and two together. The clothes vanish into the bathroom with him, and another couple minutes pass before Garrett re-emerges.
The clothes fit as well as one might expect on his slimmed-down frame. He holds a small garbage bag tied off in his hand at arm's length. "These are probably best off burnt, but I can take them outside if there's a garbage downstairs somewhere?" he asks. Presumably the ragged remains of his shorts are in there. He looks substantially better with the layers of dirt cleaned off, even if there wasn't much to be done for the hair; it's clean, but still pretty thoroughly tangled and knotted and desperately needing a cut. "I owe you," he says matter-of-factly. "Once I get my stuff together, if I can do anything to pay you back...." He trails off, tone grateful.

"I have a fire pit on the roof." Dita admits, taking the clothes and setting them outside the sliding door that leads onto the veranda. The clothes Garrett's changed into are clean, and either men's or gender neutral. Why she has men's clothes several sizes too large for her is anyone's guess, maybe even Perdita's. "Here, I don't have a lot of food in the apartment, but... I've got bagels, and who doesn't love a bagel? They're not vegan, but they are vegetarian, if you've got dietary restrictions." She hands him the plate with a smile, gesturing at the condiments. Butter, cream cheese, strawberry jam and peach jelly.

"I've been cold, hungry and lost before. Don't worry about it, Garrett. People should be able to be clean, be able to have full stomachs, and be warm when it's cold outside, and comfortable when it's hot... and when they've lost their way, it's an experienced traveler's job to point them in the right direction." She sits down easily on the opposite arm of the couch, tilting her head. "So... did you get Lost?"

Garrett doesn't seem disappointed to see effectively his only current possessions making their way towards their demise. The mention, and smell, of food, makes Garrett swallow heavily. "A bagel sounds good," he says weakly, reaching just a bit faster than is entirely polite before catching himself, slowing down, and taking the offered plate with a shaking hand. He stares long and hard at the condiments before apparently deciding to play it safe, putting a light coat of butter on his bagel. "You still could have called the cops and let them worry about it," he points out before self-control runs out and he starts on the bagel, not stopping until there's nothing left of the carb-loaded snack. The question of his getting Lost gets a small, sharp nod.

The girl tilts her head and glances at Garrett with a raised eyebrow at the comment about the cops, "I have an old saying about cops," before raising both hands in front of her face before spreading them in either side like a rainbow, "All cops are bastards."

Perdita hops up from the couch and sets about toasting another bagel for Garrett. "The only time I call the cops are when lives are literally on the line and someone needs to be shot, or when someone's already dead." soon the smell of toasting bread is filling the small kitchen again, and Dita brings out another bagel, along with a glass of water. "Eat this one a bit slower, you don't want to get sick, and you look like you've survived a run through hell." her tone is gentle, sympathetic. The kitten has disappeared, as they're wont to do.

The presentation of Dita's cop saying gets a little snort of laughter. "That's fair," he admits, then nods at the suggested slower pace for bagel, the second. When the bagel arrives he takes small bites, sipping water between, though the slight shaking in his hands suggests that it's taking a bit of effort to not inhale this bagel like he did the first. "So... you made it sound like you weren't really expecting to find yourself in possession of this building?"

"I went to bed one night in the good old murder motel, woke up the next morning, as far as I knew, in bed with a random guy. I tried to sneak out of what I thought was his place, only to find out that I was about to do the walk of shame out of my own apartment when he thanked me for letting him stay over." Perdita's eyebrows go up a little, and she tilts her head. "I thought I'd gotten absolutely shitfaced and just lost a day, made some bad decisions, you know... go to Planned Parenthood and get an STD screening, like you do, but it turns out everyone... like us... lost three months. Just... gone. Did some digging, called a friend from out of town... I apparently got them to help me buy this place, and don't remember it." she shrugs slightly. "I don't really... settle down. Buying property, having a cat? Those are ties that are hard to break. You can't just... leave when you want a change."

"If you're still hungry I can try to find somewhere that delivers, but... you're welcome to stay the night. I'm not putting you out in the cold when the shelters are locked tight and the HOPE center's shut down, especially with no shoes or coat."

"I was out hiking and, admittedly, made a stupid choice to go check a place some stufd had happened before. I meant to not really get close, peek through the trees and not even go into the clearing, just see if things were more or less the same, you know?" Apparently it's time for bedtime stories. Garrett finishes the first half of the bagel, sips some water, and continues. "But I'm positive the fuckers moved the clearing or messed with my head, because next thing I knew I was there, and there was a building that shouldn't have been there and I was running from...God, I don't remember, I just remember running into the building, and as soon as the door was closed it was quiet outside." Once he begins telling his tale, it all comes pouring out with only brief pauses to sip at water. "I gave it a minute, went outside, and.... everything was different. I wasn't in the same woods anymore." Long pause as Garrett thinks. "That was.... spring of last year? April, I think?" He sighs. "Feels like a decade and a week ago all at once, you know?"
He glances towards the door. "I won't be in your hair long. I've got friends in town that can help me figure out what my situation is now," he assures, looking exhausted, eyelids starting to droop.

"I... am so sorry that happened." Dita whispers, very softly, with a wince.

"I'll reach out to Alexander in the morning, see if he has any info on your missing persons' case. I can reach out to the chief, too. Like I said, I don't like cops, but Ruiz about the best cop I've met, so far... and I've met a few." She rises, taking the plate gently from Garrett and carrying it into the kitchen. "For now, you're safe. We're on top of the seventh floor, the elevator door locks automatically and can only be opened with the key or from this side, and I'm going to get you a spare blanket and a pillow so you can be warm and comfortable. I'm... just sorry I don't have a spare bed to offer you, I wasn't expecting any company just yet." She hurries to get the blanket and pillow, both lightly scented with vanilla, handing them to Garrett. "Be careful if you go out on the veranda, there's only railings on some of the edges." which... worries her.

"Not my favorite camping trip," Garrett says dryly, finishing his bagel and water and stretching a bit. "You've been amazing, Perdita, and I'd stay up and tell you that several dozen more times, but I'm going to tip over in the next few minutes here," he says without so much as a hint of uncertainty. Indeed, he's upright when Dita returns with the bedding. Not sleeping very heavily, though, as his eyes snap back open, wide and immediately wide awake again... for a second, at least, until he remembers where he is. "Thank you. So much. I'm gonna pay you back," he promises even as he puts the pillow at the end of the couch, already falling back asleep before he's even fully horizontal.

There's a little smile from Perdita as she watches Garrett fall... and then she takes a second to pull the blanket up over him, stoke the fire, and head into her room to close her bedroom door, get out her phone and start texting people to solve this particular mystery.