2022-01-28 - Dropping By

It's not one of Gray Harbor's prettiest days: the skies are heavy and leaden, and a steady slurry of snow and freezing rain falls from the sky. As often happens on Elm, several of the houses have backed-up sewage, and part of the street is flooded from the overloaded sewers. At least no one's being yanked through drains to fight poo slimes.

Yet.

Although this is the sort of day where Alexander usually hides in his house and does as much of his work as he can from an internet connection, today he's out in the wet, trudging his way towards 34 Elm. It's an unusual decision for him in several ways, not just the weather. He doesn't make a practice of 'dropping' in on Vic. Or Seth. Or Joey. The odds of accidentally walking into something that he might have to actually try and do something about are higher than he likes. But here he is, nonetheless, walking up to the door and rapping on it. Nice loud raps, so that no one inside gets surprised and feels the need to shoot him.

It's only a few moments, before the door is unlocked and opened, and Vic peers out it. She checked the cameras beforehand, so she knows it's Alexander. She looks tired, achy, sore, and is in a tee and sweatpants with fluffy slippers on her feet, her hair in a loose braid to keep it from tangling. "Clayton? What's wrong?" Of course that's the greeting, because she knows it's unusual for the man to pay her a visit.

"You look like hell," is Alexander's charming and polite greeting in return, although his expression is more concerned than teasing. He gives her an up-and-down, pausing for a moment on the fluffy slippers. His lips twitch. Then he comes back up to her face. "Nothing in particular." A pause. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. Haven't heard from you. There was that Dream. Know you went out of town. Thought, uh. I should check up. I can go, if it's a bad time." He says that all like someone feeling their way through an arcane ritual that he's not entirely certain he understands.

"Yeah, you should have seen me yesterday before Seth patched me up. Dream pulled me in to some train station. Tried to stop a human bomb from getting on a train, almost succeeded. Didn't quite. Still recovering. But come on in, I could use the company. Just in case the disco ghosts of the 70s come out to fight me over my remodeling choices." Vic steps back to let him in and limps her way towards the blessedly redone den. It went from 70s not-so-chic to much more modern. She flops down on the sofa. A fire is going in the newly refaced fireplace. She wishes she could remember doing the work, but it happened during those lost months.

"A human bomb?" Alexander winces, and sidles inside at her invitation. As always, he looks like he's casing the joint with the attention he pays the room - although someone with Vic's experience almost certainly noticed how he notes exits first, and tries not to put his back anywhere there's not a wall behind it, even as he roams around, staring at things. "This looks much nicer. Have there been ghosts?" This is a question you have to ask in Gray Harbor. "How is Seth? Haven't heard much from him, either. He okay?"

"Glimmer Bomb. It was...it was the woman from the Hope shelter that turned up in the pond. She was someone we'd rescued from a trafficking ring ages ago, before the missing months. She didn't shine then. I think she was being used as some kind of battery or something." Vic frowns and puts her feet up on the coffee table. "I did kill the train though, so that was cool. It was... a living construct of some sort." She gestures to one of the comfy looking leather chairs for him to perch on. "Seth is good, he was spared that Dream at least. And I've heard some weird things at night. Could just be critters though in a house this old. I usually stay at Seth's. "

She peers at Alexander more fully then. "So, it was Cavanaugh that hurt you a while back?" she drops.

At her gesture, Alexander does come to perch, although as twitchy as he is, he always looks on the verge of rising up again. Still, he sits, his fingers fretting over the seams of his pants, and the leather of the chair as he watches her and listens. "I read the article. But--" a pause. "Isabella, once. A worshiper of Them abducted her, used her as a battery to improve his own abilities. But she stood out before that. I don't know how you give someone abilities if they don't have them. You might have to ask one of the -ists or -ors." He grimaces at the thought.

And then she asks that question and his eyes narrow. His lips purse. But, after a moment, he says, "Yes. Why?"

"I noticed the way you reacted to him in that Western dream. I'm guessing it had something to do with Javier. Did you bang de la Vega or something? Though I can't imagine that would get the shit kicked out of you, or Joe would have to punch most of the town." Vic crosses her arms over her chest.

Alexander thinks about it, shakes his head. "I don't want to have sex with Javier," he mutters, and runs a hand through his hair. "I hurt him. My intentions were good. I was trying to help. I don't always," a long pause, "know how to help. The ways I was taught to help don't...sometimes they're bad ways, Miss Grey. So," he shrugs, "Javier broke my fingers, and Joseph decided to come by, knocked me unconscious, and worked me over for a while." His voice is very, very flat, but his eyes are nearly black, the pupils blown as far as they can go, with only the tiniest ring of dark brown as he remembers.

"What were you trying to help with? What could possibly go THAT wrong?" Vic asks, a bit of a bristle in her posture. She feels protective towards Clayton, for whatever reason, perhaps because of her father's fondness for the guy.

Alexander's expression goes guilty, and his gaze shifts away. "That's not mine to say. Which is why I don't talk about it. I just fucked up, that's all. I don't blame Javier for taking his shot when he had the chance." His twitchy hands come together, and he rubs at the once-broken fingers reflexively.

"I can't decide whether or not I need to beat the shit out of Cavanaugh, if I don't have the details, Clayton. Am I going to have to go to Javier for the truth? Because I will," Vic notes with a frown. She watches his hands, remembering the mess he was when she found him.

"No," Alexander's voice is sharp. "You're not going to beat the shit out of Cavanaugh. It's done. I don't want this to become a thing. I know how shit like that goes - it escalates until someone's dead on the ground, and if I wanted that--" he breaks off, his expression twists, and he dips his head to hide it under the fall of his hair, which has gone back to 'too long' now that Isabella's not around to poke him about getting it cut. "And Javier doesn't need to be harassed about it, either. I made a decision, I fucked things up, there were consequences."

"What you want isn't relevant at the moment, Clayton. Because I need to know if I can trust Joe and right now, I don't think I can. But I'll leave you out of it as best I can. Javier will know you didn't talk, refused to, so you'll be ok." Vic shrugs a little. She used to have a crush on the astronaut, but now it seems like the beating Alexander received has destroyed that.

Alexander looks up, his brow furrowed. "Miss Grey. I'm not a fucking victim. I don't need avenging. Trust him or not, I don't care. He's a coward and I wouldn't trust him further than I can throw him. But leave him be. With all the shit happening, the last thing the town needs is one of Monaghan's enforcers and the Chief of Police going to war over a stupid fucking incident that isn't between the two of them in the first place." His brow furrows, and he shakes his head. "Why would you even want to? I told you. I fucked things up. I won't say I deserved what I got from Cavanaugh, but I did from Javier, and he could have pressed charges on me that would have put me away for a long time. I would have been okay with that. Because I thought I was right. But he didn't. Not because it was right, but because...I guess because he's my fucking friend, despite it all, and I don't want him to hurt. And he'll hurt if Cavanaugh is hurt."

Vic sighs. "Fine, Alexander. I won't beat the shit out of Cavanaugh. Ok? I'll just fantasize about it. Not quite the same but it'll have to do." She grunts. "Anything else you needed tonight? Not used to you stopping by."

"I would never suggest you couldn't fantasize about anything you liked," Alexander says, dryly, his smile teasing. "And...thank you. For caring enough to want to beat the shit out of him." He considers her for a moment. "Um. Is it bad? To stop by? Since the...the missing time, I mean, the people who used to find me useful mostly have stopped. I haven't talked to most of them in a while, but I thought, you're just down the street. And maybe there's something I could do for you. To be useful? If not, that's okay." He offers a quick smile. "I'm just glad you seem to still be alive. And killing trains. How did you kill the train?"

"No, no, it's not bad, it's just not something you've done much of in the past, and I know you aren't someone who likes a lot of change," Vic points out. "I killed the train by using my glimmer to shove the time an hour ahead on a clock in the station. It had been acting weird when I looked at it, so I thought it might have a connection to something bigger."

Alexander shrugs. "I don't like surprises. They're usually trying to eat me. But friends are nice? I just don't--usually want to interrupt. Anything." He clears his throat, runs another hand through his hair, and refocuses on the Dream. "Huh. And it was connected to the train? Dream logic is weird. So often. It makes a kind of sense, but not...the sense we're used to."

"There was a lot of...focus on what time the train was arriving and leaving and ticket times and such, so the clock just...made sense I guess? To me at least. At first I stuck the woman's shoes to the floor, but she dissolved my bonds with a thought so I had to think fast. If I'd thought a smidge faster she might have been kept from boarding entirely." Vic chuckles a little. "You're always welcome, Alexander. Best if you text ahead though, and if we're busy or not home we can let you know."

"Clever," Alexander says, with approval. "And don't blame yourself. Dreams are meant to cause suffering. You can't...punish yourself for what happens in them, or if you fail. They're rigged from the start. But I'm glad you tried." He gives a sheepish little nod. "Of course. It was rude of me to just come by." He rises to his feet with a jerk. "I can go now. If anything else--I mean, you're welcome to come by or something, too. If you want." He makes his way to the door.

"I'll drop by soon, once I'm fully healed up. Seth and I need to head out of town again for a bit soon, so I'll visit before then, promise," Vic vows. "You should get a haircut, by the way," she notes, channeling Isabella for a moment.

Alexander smiles. "Sure. That'd be nice." Curiosity, visibly restrained, flickers over his features at the information, but he manages to not ask about it. Just barely. Mentioning the hair helps, distracting him for a moment. "Oh. Yeah. Probably should. Don't die, Miss Gray." And then he lets himself back out into the slush and cold, trudging his way back towards his house, and trying not to step in anything that's going to require burning his shoes.

"Stay safe, Alexander. My dad would be upset to lose you," Vic calls after him.