2022-04-22 - Can't Let Go

Dawn has come and gone. Nicasia's likely gotten up already. She's likely dealing with the coffee.

She may notice the backyard looks dramatically different. There are huge piles of weeds and shrubs. He got the lawnmower working? Or something. It almost looks halfway decent. At least it doesn't look so overgrown. The living room is finished as promised. The old furniture from the living room has been tossed into the garage. There's n new furniture yet. But there is a big ass TV. Hooked up. Ready to go. You have to sit on the ground, but it looks less vile with the old trashy furniture missing.

Speaking of missing.

Time goes by in the early morning. Myles is nowhere to be seen. The morning wears on. Still no Myles. He did apparently get a lot of work done. Perhaps he's just really tired. Or maybe not. If she goes by the room she can occasionally hear grunting. Certain assumptions can be made at first but eventually it doesn't seem to add up. There's no rhythm or cadence to them. They're off. Indicating true, strenuous effort of attempting something difficult rather than the sounds she may be more familiar with.

"Fuck." If she's nearby she can hear it. There's worry in his voice. Perhaps even fear. A few moments pass.

"Nico!"

Hurrah for industry.

Nicasia did succeed in getting the kitchen a little bit cleaner, following the same slash and burn MO: she threw out bags and bags of things, every food and food-adjacent package, container, and box, and all of the broken, chipped, and stained dishes, all of the old plastic containers, and generally anything she thought might be easily replaceable, then washed down all of the remaining surfaces with good old-fashioned bleach water. The fridge is still there but has been deemed a biohazard, and until they can get rid of it is a problem but a problem for another day. She also went shopping for some essentials - better coffee included - and finally stopped by the shop, which resulted in three new boxes of old files being brought over for sorting.

Her morning ritual remains the same. She came downstairs, let the dog out, made coffee, though this time had something slightly more resembling of breakfast. Alone, maybe figuring the previous morning was a one off and that Myles slept in like a normal person. At least until he doesn't get up.

Eventually she gets curious and wanders upstairs to check on him, which is when she hears the grunting, and the eyebrow Spocked at the door would be telling indeed except for the rapidity with which it proves to sound more like a struggle and less like some familiar physical activity. Then he's swearing and she reaches for the door handle... and then stops when he yells for it.

At first it's just a hesitation, but then is a full-fledged halt, ten whole seconds of absolute silent stillness before she raps her knuckles on it instead. "Myles? You okay?"

There's quiet at first. Until finally.

"I need help." Comes the admission.

When she opens the door she'll find Myles, on the bed. He's dressed as he was the previous morning. All black. There's paint on his fingers, paint on his hoodie. Paint everywhere really. He is seated on the bed, hunched forward. Looking sort of miserable. He looks tired as well. His eyes slowly go up when she enters, looking hopeless and helpless. "I don't know what's happening." He states, his voice ragged and threatening to break. It's very clear he's deeply disturbed by whatever's happening.

But whatever's happening isn't as clear. He's just sitting there. Nothing seems to be currently happening to him. Just sitting there holding a spray paint can. Though there's something else too. For some reason he's wedged a crowbar between the can and his hand and is now holding that, too. "Nico, what's wrong with me?"

In she comes, and up goes her eyebrow again. Expected, perhaps, finding him dressed like that. Covered in paint, all those fine particulate speckles entirely too finely canvased on all that black. She does take it all in, mouth slightly pursed in familiar petulant fashion, the very judgemental sort, but at least she takes the time to formulate that judgment, to read it, before jumping to a conclusion.

Obviously it'll be the wrong one, initially, but hey.

"The fuck did you do?" There's no acid in it, however. It's gentle, slightly amused, but the misery rolling off of him is too strong for her to really bite down on it. Anyway she doesn't see the crowbar until she's gotten closer and realizes it's wedged in there, some defiance of physics involved the whole scenario. "What are you doing?" The question changes a little bit in the repetition, like she can't process why he's holding the can and the steel bar. She reaches out a hand to set on his shoulder, ever so gentle, reassurance for what she has no idea of but the gesture is there all the same.

He looks up at her, that misery abating for just long enough for him to look at her exasperated. He frowns deeply, slowly that misery boiling back up. He holds up his hand, the steel bar. The can. "I can't let go." He explains in a quiet, somewhat pathetic voice. Is he.. Playing a joke on her? Allegedly he couldn't let go of the can and ostensibly wedged the crow bar in there to get it out, and now its stuck as well. Or at least that's what he's claiming. It seems...

It seems very silly.

However, the fear is very real. It's not something Myles displays, really if ever. Not in real life. He hates scary movies. Refuses to watch them. He gets spooked by spooky things. But nothing real. They've been in danger enough that she knows when it comes down to it Myles more often than not will have ice in his veins. Even with a gun trained on his head, he keeps it together. Most of the time he's dauntless.

But in this moment, he seems panicked. Deeply worried. Looking up to her in a place of frantic anxiety that likely isn't fully bubbling up to the surface. The hand helps maybe a little. But he's still scared. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" He repeats, a bit more fear edging into his voice.

If he's playing a joke, he's apparently in on the big one the rest of the town seems to be trying to pull over.

But the fear is indeed very real and it's unsettling; after all this time Nicasia is intimately familiar with it - or the lack thereof - and when it manifests it unsettles her, but she responds by closing the last bit of distance and sitting down beside him, reaching out to soothe, to calm, voice gentle and that little 'shhhh' she offers unfeigned. Maybe only one of them needs to be brave at a time.

"What do you mean you can't let go?" Clarification is sought, but at the same time she tries to answer the question for herself, settling for what should be a really easy process: pulling the spray can out of his hand. It should be simple, except that it isn't, and there's only a very brief narrowing of her eyes that maybe suggests part of her thinks he's just being strange. When that fails, she tries to pull the crowbar back out, which should be simpler, given the leverage. "Hey. Shhh," she murmurs again. "What happened? What did you... did you accidentally spill some glue or something?"

"I mean I can't let go." He counters with mild exasperation though his voice quickly goes back into its more panicked state. "I don't know what the fuck's going on with me. Its like. I just can't--" His fingers wiggle. A little. In so much as one could wiggle their fingers while refusing to let go of a can. She tries to take the can and cannot. She tries to take the crowbar, and she can't. His arm goes up a little but his hand is still fastened around both items. Just like he's holding tight onto them and not allowing her to take them from him. He is stronger than her, he could keep it gripped if he wanted to.

But Nicasia notices lots of things. She notices that his knuckles aren't creasing or wrinkling as they would if he were actually gripping something.

"No." He states quickly. "I didn't spill glue." He snaps as if insulted by the insinuation. Though he falls quiet for a second. "I don't think so." Because that could be the only answer right? Maybe he did spill glue on himself and just had no idea. "I don't know where or when that coulda happened.." He frowns deep. "I was just painting." And defacing your dads houseboat. "And then I was comin' home and I tried to put it in my bag and I couldn't. I just couldn't let it go. And I tried this and now it's stuck too." He frowns deeply.

He could keep them gripped if he wanted to but it would be quite a bit more obvious than it likely is. The lack of creasing, the lack of finger flexing, even the tension on the objects are probably all clues that this isn't him just being an asshole and it leaves Nicasia subtly baffled. But she tries anyway. Tries to wiggle the can loose. Tries to get the prybar pulled out and doesn't - which ultimately might be for the best because she pulls on it hard enough at the end that she might've done damage if it had accidentally come loose: instead she just pulls his whole arm along for a bit.

Nikki gives up when he starts explaining how this came to pass, but there's no real clarity to be found, no explanation for what happened, no B on the way from A to C.

"Hey," she murmurs again. "Relax, it's gonna be okay." She sounds mostly convinced of this, keeps all but a little fragment of dismay out of her voice, one single solitary thread that is totally not confident that this is fixable short of some major intervention. Rather than pull anymore, she takes his hand and assorted objects in both of hers and presses a little, pushing around where they join to his skin, trying to puzzle out how they might be fused together. Her teeth sink into her lower lip, the look of concentration as familiar as the orange scent of her shampoo, the faint coffee smell that still lingers on her skin.

His arm goes along with her. As she just yanks it around trying to pull the paint can out. The crowbar out. He's just watching her, squinting. "This is fucked up." He whines. Closing his eyes for a moment. She's trying to reassure him, it does get him to be quiet for a minute at least. And then she's just trying to really inspect his hand. Her hands pressing all over his larger one. He closes his eyes, tries to breathe smoothly. She can fix it. She's the smartest. She'll figure it out. He breathes. Slow.

As she's puzzling, with her hands sliding all over his to figure out how this fusion became possible. At one moment she gets close. Close enough that her shirt brushes against his hand. Its just incidental contact. Kind of split second bumps that happen every day that no one spends any time thinking about. They just happen. But when it happens today. When her weight shifts back...

Her shirt stays. She bumped him just above the chest towards the collar. And the fabric sticks to his hand. The back of his hand. Much like the spray paint can and the crow bar. Except there's no question that he isn't holding onto this. Even as her hands are sliding around his hand and actively not sticking to him, her shirt stays there. And won't come off.

Myles slowly looks down to find this new occurrence... "Aw fuck nah."

"We need to call a doctor or some shit."

Nicasia the smart one. She'll figure it out. She can fix this.

And then she discovers that her shirt is indeed stuck to him when she pulls back and the fabric stretches. Just a little at first, and then a whole lot all at once, to the point where the cotton is quite taut, and this is suddenly not okay. Not at all. "What the actual fuck?" Now it's an accusation. In fact for a moment it's almost a fight, almost his fault, that charge building up in her like she's going to pin the blame for this on him.

She doesn't: she exhales a breath and closes her eyes and pulls her hands back, perhaps so that they don't also somehow get stuck to him by whatever invisible glue this is. "You think a doctor is gonna be able to help this?! Shit." There's only so far she can pull back now, and since she's suddenly disinclined to touch him, it severely impacts her ability to poke, prod, or otherwise figure out how to get it to stop. "Just... relax. You're making it worse. Maybe it is some kind of glue. Did you try washing it off?"

He knows that tone. He knows that feeling. The accusation. It's instinct. It's burned into him. The reaction he has when she acts like that. She charges up and so will he. She calms down. But he doesn't know that. He already heard that tone. Then she refutes his genius idea. His brows narrow and sharpen. She's pulling back. Her hands leaving suddenly Then she's saying he's making it worse. Oops.

"I'm making it worse!?" HIs hand swings around, crowbar, can of spray paint, and her shirt all going with him. "It aint glue, Nicholas! Your hands were just all over me. Did they stick? Nah." But now her soothing him is having the opposite effect. He's too riled up now.

"Okay. Let's wash it off. Let's try that. That'll work." He does not mean any of what he just said. He's suddenly pushing up to his feet to go to the bathroom. Inevitably taking her with him.

Know what's not stuck to his hand? The other end of the crowbar.

Nikki leans way back to avoid the flying end of it when he swings his hand thus, though a split second later she's being dragged along with. Not quite like a rag doll being tossed about, because she isn't entirely a featherweight and isn't about to sit there and take this, whatever it is,but she definitely starts to move with him. All of her, with all of him, led by the bit of t-shirt sticking to his hand along with the artifacts of his little crime spree. "Jesus, Myles," she starts to protest again, that charge building up with inevitable kinetic force, headed for some kind of explosion in a right hurry.

However here she has the advantage: he gets up and hauls off toward the bathroom, but she lifts her arms and lets him pull the whole thing off. The neck of the shirt catches for a second around her head, but otherwise it just keeps on going, leaving her behind in her bra and a scowl that could melt steel, just not the stuff currently attached to his hand. "I'm trying to help, jackass. You are making it worse. I don't know what's wrong but I do know that you stomping around and waving that shit everywhere's gonna put a hole in something." He's headed for the bathroom, which means she's just going to have to get louder and louder so she can be heard.

Until she takes another breath and tries to compose herself, scrubbing at her face before following behind.

So there he is with a spray paint can, a crowbar and his ex-wife's shirt clinging to his hand as he storms out of the room towards the bathroom. He pauses as he realizes his ex wife is no longer attached to the shirt. But she's also yelling at him. He turns to meet her with a scowl of his own.

But pauses.

Its been a while since he's seen her like that.

There's just a heartbeat of his eyes sinking. He swallows. "How the fuck am I making it--" He lets out a low growl. "I'm not gonna put a hole in anything." He rumbles swinging his arm and very nearly putting a hole in the wall. But he doesn't. "Be easy, woman. I'm having a god damn crisis, I can raise my fuckin' voice if I need to!" He turns and continues to stomp into the bathroom. All this ruckus has roused Lady. Who starts coming up the stairs to visit.

He stands at the faucet, going to turn it on with his other hand. He is then putting his hand under the water, pushing his hoodie sleeve back as the water goes down over her shirt. His hand. Their crowbar. He's picking up the bar of soap and goes to try and scrub around where the shirt is pressed and---

The bar of soap is stuck to the back of his hand.

"Jesus FUCKING Christ!" Myles bellows.

Nicasia isn't very far behind, but it's enough that he's managed to get the bar of soap stuck too before she makes it through the doorway and stops there to stare. And stare, and stare, and...

...she almost laughs at the sight of it, the impossibility of it, one crackle of mirth that she restrains by clamping both hands over her mouth to swallow back down, so that it comes out in a hiccup and a shake of her shoulders instead of real sound. Lady presses around her leg, trying to figure out what the fuss is, clueless about what the humans are upset about but obviously aware that something's up, and gets a tiny scritch of her ears before the woman can try on some other course of action. Some thing she can do that might, conceivably, calm him down.

"Well. I guess that means it's not glue." There's a touch of laughter there still, but surely that is better than her anger, right? Surely. Might be better than his, too, but she closes on him again, comes up beside him and leans to turn the water off. "Let's not have you get stuck to the faucet, alright? Look. I can try and track down one of those weirdos from the bar, or we can try... I don't know. Something else. This is pretty fucking abnormal but I'm sure we would've heard about it if it were a regular thing, right?"

Her hands clamp over her mouth. He knows what's happening. She's laughing at him. But he's too busy being PISSED to acknowledge it. But then--

I guess it's not glue

She laughs and his chest blows up with air as if he were about to blow down the whole damn house. But instead he lets out a breathless bark of a laugh, deflating as he does. The soap is stuck to his hand. He laughs more, almost starting to double over. She's coming over to turn off the faucet and he looks up at her, sobering somewhat. "You think it's funny, huh?" The tone is challenging yet it has a tell tale mark of playfulness in it that she would be more than familiar with. "You think it's real funny." He slowly brings up his Sticking Hand. "I got big hands, lady. More than enough room for your bra on there. You still gonna laugh then?" He asks, his hand coming forward in slow motion like some sort of sticking monster. Though his monster hand pauses at her suggestion.

"There's a doctor." He points out. "We went to high school with her. Ava Brennon? You remember, rich girl?"

Better that playful growl underneath than teeth. Yes, she's more than familiar with it, and will take one over the other any day of the week and twice on Fridays. All the same she holds her breath for just a moment, just until she's sure that he's not going to go the other direction.

Then, "Yeah, I do think it's pretty funny." Not so much that she's not going to shy away when he brings his hand up, makes that slow motion swipe toward her that has her stepping back. "Woah," says Nicasia, "you keep that to yourself. I mean, unless you are determined to go through life with a bra in your hand, in which case I think I have a spare one I can afford to donate to the cause. Hang on." But she hasn't fled, just goes back to the doorway to stand by the dog who's sitting there, watching in utter bafflement. "Just think of all the amazing things you could hold, forever. Is it just that hand, or is it also other parts of your anatomy? Your head, for example?" Lesson... not learned.

But he pauses and brings up Ava and she lets it go, frowning a little. "Ava... Ava... maybe, a little. She still around?"

He takes a step forward, going to lean against the door frame. He looks down at her. His lips quirk up lopsided. "Yeah?" He rumbles in that low growl. "You wanna test what sticks to my anatomy?" Other people might get whiplash. But their capability of going from screaming to flirty to screaming is impressive. But then he finally notices Lady. Which has him softening immediately. "Hey baby. I can't pet you right now. Can't risk you." He murmurs softly. "Yeah. I ran into her yesterday. She was sayin'.. I dunno. Some kinda weird shit. And she's a doctor. Maybe we should call her?"

"Sure, hold on, I've got a whole box of rusty kitchen shit downstairs..." No whiplash here, but Nicasia is ever on her toes, ever up for this.

For a moment, as he comes to lean against the opposite side of the frame, she looks up at him. Just looks. There's a flicker of an idea behind her eyes, a lightning flash of something impulsive, and terrible, and she ends up biting her lip for a second to restrain it. But then he's cooing at the dog and it flits away as fast as it came up, leaving her to stroke Lady's ear again sympathetically. "Several of the locals I've run into have been saying weird shit. Stuff about ghosts, missing time. Things that happen that you can't explain." There's a look down at his hand and the collection of things building up around it like junk around a junkyard magnet, except only half of them have any magnetic properties and the other two have no business in that equation.

"Why am I not surprised that you got her number," she says quietly. Then, "I guess; I still don't think this is a medical problem, but maybe she's one of Them and hell, maybe this is just Thursday in Gray Harbor."

"If that's what you're into now." Myles rumbles with a little smirk. He may be vurious as to what went across her head. BUT. He's looking down at Lady. Lady will always distract him. He lets out a quiet grunt. "Yeah." Is rumbled low. "People say weird shit here. Ava-- Dr. Brennon-- said some weird shit too." When she notes that she's not surprised he got her number he rolls his eyes. "She reached out to me." Which is not the argument he probably thinks it is.

"She was nice to me, in high school." Myles protests, somewhat quiet about it. "She's a coroner now." He grimaces a little bit. "We should call her." He may have thought that Ava was about to take him in a Get Out scenario for just a second but now he seems to have completely reversed his position. He looks down at Nicasia. Swallows.

"Phone's in my pocket." He explains thrusting one hip towards her just a touch.

"The whole place seems kind of weird," points out Nicasia. "Like they're dumping LSD into the water, or something."

No. The doctor reaching out is not a good argument but she doesn't push it, just rolls her eyes in a way that is more amused than genuinely hurt. "Don't touch me," she warns, closing a little and reaching in to fish out his phone. It's practiced, but also very practical: she's light-fingered and soon has the thing open and, once it's unlocked, goes scrolling through his contacts for one Ava Brennon. You know it's pretty desperate times when you let your ex-wife go through your phone.

(TXT to Ava) Myles : Hi is this Ava?

"If I had a dollar for every time you said that." He drawls but all the same raises his hands up out to the side. Myles frowns lightly as she just gets into the phone that fast. He quietly notes that he has not told her his updated passcode. Time to update that. He lets out a low grunt.

(TXT to Myles) Ava : Myles? You okay?

"That's not my text voice." Myles grunts as he narrows his eyes at her. "Hi is this Ava?" He shakes his head. "You should know this by now."

Time to update indeed. The drawl doesn't even win Myles a gesture in response, aside from the fact that Nicasia is texting with her middle finger. Maybe it is a gesture; maybe she's multitasking. "You want to try and do this? You want your phone stuck to your hand too, for all of eternity? It's gonna make some things really difficult." There's a sidelong look before she's hitting the send button. Stabbing it, really, for extra emphasis.

(TXT to Ava) Myles : This is not Myles and no he's not okay

(TXT to Myles) Ava : Address?

(TXT to Ava) Myles : 30 Elm nobody's bleeding so you don't need lights and sirens but

(TXT to Myles) Ava : On my way.

"All eternity." Myles repeats. "The fuck, Nico. Why you gotta say shit like that?" He practically glares at her but makes no move to reclaim his phone from her. And now that she has all his texts in front of her. She can probably quite easily see that he did not actually fix the lawnmower, but Ava had texted him about lending him one. He never lied about it but he also didn't tell her.

Looking over the woman Myles lets out a grunt. "Are you gonna put on a shirt?" He's stepping past her, heading down the stairs. "Come on Lady." Making his way to the door he sighs and goes to lean against the wall next to the door. "See how she just immediately asked for the address though?" He lets out a grunt. "Shit's professional." He stands there with the can of spray paint in his hand. The crowbar. Her shirt dangling from the back of his hand. And the bar of soap. All of the items that just won't drop from his hand.

It doesn't take too long for a car to come screeching up outside. Ava must have been closer than her own house to have gotten here that quickly. Or perhaps she just sped the whole way. Either way, the doctor made some excellent time. The car door opens, and there's some shuffling as a large medical bag is grabbed from the back and tossed over her shoulder. The door slams before heels can be heard in a hurried approach, and finally a quick knock on the door of the building.

"It's Ava," she calls out through the door. "Got here as fast as I could."

That's if she reads them. If she doesn't just save it for later, for ammunition during some other battle. Instead Nicasia glares back at Myles, eyes narrowing down to poison-green slivers. "Would you prefer I remind you what all you gotta do with that hand instead? No? Okay then."

She is going to put on another shirt. It's a brief detour into her room to find one, and then she, too, heads on down the stairs, not terribly far behind, to wait for the good doctor to make her house call. "She was good people. I'm not real surprised she just asked for the address. I have no idea how you're gonna explain that." Any of it. It's quite a collection of stuff he's gotten stuck to and she shakes her head at it, finally dismayed. His phone is held up, and then set on the little table there in the entrance hall, his to reclaim at some future date or hers to deal with if it starts buzzing like a hornet in the next ten minutes.

When Ava knocks, she's who answers, with a sharpish little smile that would be amused if she also maybe didn't look a little worried. But really only when her back is turned on the man with the actual problem. "Hi doc, long time" she says. "Come on in. I'm pretty sure you're not gonna need any of that, but what the hell do I know?"

Myles frowns at the look as Nicasia makes her way off. "This shit aint my fault, Nic." He calls out after her, standing there, in all black, covered in paint with a fun bag hanging off one hand. Then the car is screeching up and Myles lets out a deep sigh. "Fuck. This place is a mess." Myles lightly stresses as Ava is running up. When Nicasia goes to the door, he lets out a low grunt.

When Nicasia opens the door, Myles takes a few steps to stand in front of her to greet her properly. He's wearing a black hoodie covered in paint. Black jeans with paint smears all over. His hands are blues and greens. He wears a black beanie. But most notably is the weird stuff in his right hand. He's holding a spray paint can. A crow bar is wedged in between it and his hand. On the back of his hand a shirt is dangling to the back of his hand like its stuck there with some kind of glue. There's also a bar of soap attached to the back of his hand like its just set there.

"Hey, Ava." He greets, taking a few steps back to allow her to come in. "Got a.. Weird ass problem. Thanks for rushin' by."

"Hey there, Nicasia. Long time no see. You're looking well, which is nice. What's going on with... Myles." Ava spots him and pauses. "No. I, uh, won't be needing this. You're right." A hand pats the medical bag. "Here I thought you were horribly injured or something. There's a sparkle of amusement in her eyes as if this isn't something unusual to walk in on at all.

She strides over towards Myles and nudges her fingers against the bar of soap. "So, what exactly was going on when this happened?" she wonders, her tone curious but very much not at all concerned. "You're fine, by the way, I can help with this. Just walk me through it."

"Trust me, there's plenty going on with Myles and very little of it's curable by modern medicine." There's a certain dry humor in this that belies the way Nicasia does look ever so slightly wary, but that evaporates as she steps away from the door to let Ava in to see what, indeed, the problem she was requested for is. There's a glance out the door and then she closes it up, murmuring to the large, long-haired dog that has appeared in the hall to stare most inquisitively at their guest.

Once there aren't going to be any more witnesses she finds a better place to lean and watch, folding her arms and adopting a look of very critical studiousness. When Ava insists he's fine, or going to be fine, she arches both eyebrows at Myles in a patented I told you so sort of way, but leaves him to explain himself and his collection of hangers-on.

Myles looks sidelong to Nicasia, brows tightening. Looking back at Ava. "Sorry, Ava. Was afraid to touch the phone. Didn't mean to alarm you, or bother you. Really. Just with some of the shit you said yesterday. You know some of that--" Spooky shit. He looks down. "We just didn't know what to do." But she says it's going to be alright. He casts a scowl over to Nicasia before looking back dwon to Ava.

Walk her through it.

"Sorry the house is a mess. Trying to sort it all out." There's no furniture in the living room. "NIco would you mind grabbing our guest a chair from the kitchen?" He asks faux-sweetly. Holding up his item-hand to remind her why he cannot.

He's looking back to Ava. "I was painting. And when I was finished I went to put the can in my bag. But I couldn't let go. I tried to put a bar in it and get it out but it got stuck too. Then Nic was trying to help me and she got her shirt stuck-- And the soap. Everything's sticking. Just to this hand. I've been grabbing stuff with the other. No glue or nothin'. We don't know what's going on."

Ava glances at the dog and offers a big grin. "Hey pup," she murmurs, still moving around Myles. Her hand reaches out to give the items a little wiggle here and there. The green glow that surrounds Ava brightens for a moment as tendrils of power wrap themselves around Myles. For a moment, his own light dims and his power dampens, if only just for a few seconds. Hopefully enough to send the items dropping back down to the floor.

Her eyes flicker between the both of them curiously. "Neither of you have any idea what's going on here? Yet you were doing enough to suffer this level of backlash, huh?" Her lips stretch. "Chair seems like a good idea, because I think we're going to have to have a long talk. Do you guys have any coffee?"

"Not a goddamned clue," Nicasia volunteers about what they know. Or more specifically don't know. She most assuredly does not move to collect a chair from one of the other rooms, just stands a curious sort of guard as whatever it is is done, or undone, and quickly enough to bring what was otherwise a very eventful morning to a very sudden and noisy end. Even the dog looks confused by all of it, though she's given a little scritch of the ears that seems to satisfy her.

"How about we all go sit in the dining room, and you're gonna have to pardon the mess." Because it is. Old, dilapidated, suffering from the same general general lack of maintenance and upkeep coupled with an awful lot of STUFF in boxes, which make it really hard to tell if someone's moving in or moving out, like they can't make up their minds. "You're in luck, though. There is coffee, and it's even drinkable. Cream? Sugar?"

Everything drops down to the ground. Myles peers down at it all. Can. Shirt. Bar. Soap. He blinks. Once. Three times. Up at Ava. At the light she shined. He swallows hard. Then looks over to Nicasia who is just asking if she wants cream or sugar. Perhaps it helps. He sucks in a breath. His hand goes up to his face, scrubbing his features. He stares through his fingers at Ava for a few moments. He drops his hand and slowly walks to the kitchen, looking somewhat dazed. He says nothing. Just finds a chair and sits down roughly. Lady comes over to him, which is a good distraction to start petting her.

He blinks up to Ava. "Thanks."

"Then it's time to know. If you're willing. If you don't want to, tell me know. But I promise you that stuff like that," Ava points to the pile on the floor, "will just keep happening." Following after Nicasia, Ava does as instructed and makes sure not to mind the mess. It's very difficult for her, because every instinct in her body is to start cleaning and organizing it. It's not something that she can help.

"Just black, please. No cream or sugar." Settling into a chair, there's a glance offered towards Myles and the look that he's giving her at the moment. Amusement touches her eyes again. "Are you doing alright over there?"

The kitchen, at least, is semi-ordered, a faint bleachy smell in the air under the coffee bean scent of something ground a few hours ago. There are boxes, still, but they're on the ground near the back door, like they're waiting to get tossed: the counters are completely barren save for a weathered, stained old Mr. Coffee pot and a neatly folded dishtowel with one mug turned down on top, not far from a mug that may've been used. Nicasia finds a third one and fills, or in her case refills, them all and passes them out. When she finally gets around to giving Myles his she makes a point of looking him in the eye, studying him for just a moment before moving on to a third chair.

"It's been a rough couple of weeks," she volunteers. "I'm not sure willing or not really matters anymore."

Myles looks a little lost. Like things are taking a second to catch up to him. Thoughts are taking too long to get to the rest of him. He slowly looks up to Nicasia, meeting her gaze. There's little to no expression. He takes his coffee, also black, but just sets it on the dining room table.

When Ava asks him how he is. He blinks. He stares at her for a few moments. He looks over to Nicasia. Back to Ava.

"This---" He frowns. "I do things." He states, flatly. Exactly what that means, he may not entirely be sure. "When I'm in the zone. I do shit. That-- That what this is about?"

"I wish I could tell you that it will get better now that you're home, but better is relative." Ava slides one leg over the other and settles back in the chair. "Now that you're back, you're probably going to get sucked into what my friend Ravn likes to call the Hotel California phenomenon. You can check out, but you can never leave. You'll always end up coming back, no matter what." She's fully expecting that 'omg cult' face from Myles again.

"Thanks," is offered to Nicasia as she accepts the cup. "Yeah, you doing things is what this is about." Her eyes travel between them as she studies their powers and limits for a few moments. "Are things moving for you, or to you when you're in this zone?" she wonders. "You used a lot of that power today, so you suffered a backlash. Which is what all of that was."

"We've met," Nicasia volunteers about Ravn, though there's a slight touch of sharp humor behind this. Like of course they've met because why not? It might be a step up from the expressions Myles keeps flashing, however, as hers are more bemused than frowny. It's about all she puts forward for the moment, however, like this is his show and he can answer for his sins, or not, at his leisure. "Though from what I gather it's not going to get better. Only stranger."

The rest, however, she listens to. Ava now gets most of her attention, though every twenty or thirty seconds her gaze slides toward Myles, the briefest of glances that still keeps tabs on him.

Myles is quiet. Reserved. Looking down a lot. He knits his brows. He's quiet as the two go back and forth. Only looking up when Ava talks about a backlash. He frowns. Again. He thinks. Really thinks.

"For me." Comes out in a quiet voice. "I couldn't reach. So the cans just went." He closes his eyes. "I didn't think about it-- I was just doin it."

"Stranger is a good word. Hopefully just stranger and not worse. That's the ideal." Because apparently worse is an option. Just not the best option. Nicasia gets a lopsided smile. "I wish is were better news than that. How well aware are you of your abilities?" she wonders before glancing back towards Myles as he reconciles with what he's hearing. "With practice that skill can be quite useful. I'd say you could probably lift about eighty to one hundred poundsish if you really wanted to. But there's other stuff you can do, that can be dangerous, especially if done accidentally."

"But as far as backlash goes, that was pretty tame, so you're very lucky. I once got horrific third degree burns that roasted my whole hand." Except both of her hands look flawless now, so that's hard to believe.

Some of that thinking gets watched, though when the questioning is turned on Nicasia she looks off toward the back door, where stained square windowpanes look out toward the back yard. There's not much of a view, especially from here. "I'd ask what abilities but apparently that's not strictly accurate, is it." It's not much of an answer to Ava's question, either. She does flick a look at Myles again at the idea that whatever he can do might be dangerous, but picks up her cup and has a long swallow rather than picking at it.

"I'm not sure how that gets to be tame. I mean, if that happens again... what, does it just wear off on its own? Are we going to have to call somebody every time he turns into a magnet?" Also not much of an answer, but there she goes.

Myles looks down slowly. Still looking dazed. He should be bringing up Get Out at least five times right now and yelling about how crazy Ava is. However. He knows at least parts of this are true. Somehow he's been able to ignore what he can do. Just shove it off to the side. Not think about it. Not entertain it. But when forced to look at it, it's plain to see.

He looks up to Ava. "What.." He breathes. "Will it hurt her?" There's a moment passes before he looks down at the dog. Was he asking if it would hurt Lady? Instead of Nicasia? There's a slow squint over to Nicasia. "Wait. She can do this shit too?" Beat. "How do you know all this shit?" He's starting to wake up, it seems.

"It is not accurate, I'm afraid. Though that does answer my question." That gets a wry smile from Ava. "To answer your question, it will wear off on it's own. The magnetism and stuff like that always will. Yours will too. Do you get headaches a lot? Or lots of static cling?" she wonders with a lifted brow in Nicasia's direction.

Myles gets a reassuring smile. "There's chances that loved ones can get hurt in life no matter what we do. Living with powers is no different. There is an increased chance of getting hurt by living in Gray Harbor, however. I'm not going to lie to you." There's a long sip from her coffee before Ava smiles and gestures a finger towards Nic. "Her powers are different than yours, and both of yours are different than mine, which I have had since I was six. I'm sure you both can see, and have somehow rationalized away, the fact that some people seem to have a glow about them. Around here we call it the Shine. Those that Shine have these gifts, powers, abilities. Whatever you call them. Those that don't, do not. In fact, they won't remember displays of powers and stuff for very long after seeing them, even. Their brains auto-rationalize it away."

Nicasia, likewise, is a master class in rationalization, given the careful way in which she shakes her head at Ava. "We lived in the desert. Dry air." A lifetime of it, set on the table, though now maybe she has to examine it, sort through it like they've been going through these boxes. There is a very slow, sidelong look at Myles, but this very much without an accompanying tilt of her head. "Nosebleeds," she admits then. "Synesthesia, sometimes. Assorted nightmares, paranoid delusions, can't keep batteries in anything charged to save my life."

There's a beat of silence wherein she looks at her cup, but it's empty now. As is the coffee pot. A tragedy in three acts. "I never really paid attention to that. Just thought it was the way some people are, you know? Like some people are tall, and some people are ahh...llergic to shellfish."

Myles has his eyes locked on his ex-wife. Staring at her hard. Perhaps losing a little of what she's saying he's staring so hard. One hand is going through Lady's long fur like its grounding him. If he stops petting the dog he may just get lost in all this. He looks to Ava. Back to Nicasia.

"What are hers?" What are his, even? It seems he's more concerned with hers first, and doesn't really seem to dwell on justification.

Ava nods towards Nic as if the list of symptoms listed absolutely makes sense to her. "That sounds about right. My friend Conner right now is having issues with his powers, which are the same as yours. Only he's frying every electronic he gets his hands on. We think someone's screwing with him somehow. Not sure how, yet."

Myle's questions has her laughing for a moment. "Well, if she'd also like to know, I'd be happy to answer that. But I don't want to go blurting them out if that's not something Nicasia is ready for, yet. I know that this is... well, it's a lot. I'm only at the beginning of what this all means, really. By the way, did you finish the grass? If not, I'd be happy to give you guys a demonstration?"

"Can't say as I would know if someone were screwing with mine," Nicasia ventures. She's clearly aware of the way Myles is looking at her, which is why she isn't now looking at him, like some kind of well-oiled machine that can only go in one direction at a time. When it's her turn she lifts one shoulder in a dismissive little shrug. "Like I said, I'm not sure willing or not - ready or not - really matters at this point. We're here. If what you and Ravn say is true, we're not even now going to be able to leave. There's not much choice beyond digging in and fighting back, or whatever it is you do."

The offer of a demonstration merits a little frown. "What're you gonna do, set the lawn on fire? Might actually be an improvement, at this point."

Myles frowns, tilting his head down. His eyes resting on Ava, back to NIcasia. He looks over his shoulder to the stained glass slider that leads out into the yard. "I did my best but only so much can be done." At Nicasia's question about lighting it on fire, Myles slowly shakes his head. "She has a crazy ass yard that's way better than the others around her." He explains. "She had some glowing circle and told me she cheated and sculpted it and said she'd come cheat and do mine." Beat. "Ours." Or did he have it right the first time? Unclear.

"I got a little spooked." Myles admits, before going to push himself out of his chair, making his way to the slider. Lady follows happily. He goes to open the slider. There are several piles. The yard has been mostly tamed of its overgrowth but to say it looks good? That's a stretch. It looks less bad. He motions to Ava, then to the yard. "Knock yourself out."

He's then retreating over to Nicasia. To quietly mutter under his breath. "D'you know you had fucking powers?" Practically hissed through the teeth.

"Ready or not may not matter. But you might still like a day or two to gather your thoughts and wits. You never know." Ava scoots her chair back and moves to glances over towards the sliding door. "I actually could light it on fire if I wanted to. Pyrokinesis is great like that. But no, that isn't what I had in mind," comes a soft chuckle. "A little spooked? You should have seen your face. You looked like you wanted to get out of there so fast, it was hilarious."

Ava steps out towards the yard and lifts her hands out towards it. "Not bad, but I think I can help. You don't have a faerie circle, so I'll make it something that's easy to maintain yourselves." That green glow around her pulses again and she shines bright like a lighthouse. The grass begins to ripple and grow lush and perfectly green, sprouting evenly across the yard, some sinking, some rising until it's all even with each other. The bushes trim themselves around the edges, flowers bloom to perfection and neaten themselves into perfect little rows. Trees shift and shudder one by one, straightening themselves out slowly until the line up properly with the property lines. Not uprooting, just shifting the branches just a little.

When she's down it looks pristine, as if a landscaper just spent two weeks working on it, while it took her maybe five minutes. Her hand reaches out to rest on a railing as she takes in a long breath. On two of her fingers, it's easy to see the spread of bark discoloration across the skin. "There we are. Lovely. So for me, it's living matter control, basically. I can heal, control fire, plants, and I can put broken objects back together. For you, it's Telepathy, Empathy, and Electrokinesis. The fact that you haven't accidentally launched a lightning bolt at someone before is amazing."

His; hers; theirs; who knows. The house is a shambles, but for good reason. Probably for a whole lot more reasons here in a few minutes, but time will be the judge of that. Nicasia gets to her feet as well, leaving them to go ahead, maybe not in a huge hurry to see this demonstration, maybe just taking a minute or two to collect her wits. Or she's waiting for Myles, for that inevitable question, to which she can only answer, "About as much as you knew."

Out then, onto the back patio. The yard isn't much, even with his attempts at cutting the grass. Like the rest of the house it suffers from about twenty years of general neglect, attempts made over the years to do this or that, but never for any length of time, never maintained. It's not exactly a blank canvas, but it's definitely never met a landscaper. Of course, this could probably be said for all the houses on the block, but hey. "Faerie circle?" She caught that part. "Better not be inviting any faeries, brownies, or leprechauns here, or Lady'll turn them into fertilizer." A joke? Maybe? There's gotta be humor where it can be found. Short-lived.

Dead, in fact, because then Ava's going to work and the whole thing is changing, growing, sprouting, evening out, and all she can do is stare. There're a few blinks, sure, but that stare, slightly open-mouthed, lacks even the bemusement she'd salvaged from before, and borders on something like cognitive shellshock. Their guest is most of the way through the next part of her lecture before she catches up, even a little bit, and then only seems to grasp the last part of it. "Lightning bolt?" A hand comes up, fingers going to rub over one eye. Maybe she is going to get a headache. "How do you know all of this?"

Myles looks briefly embarrassed by how hilarious he was. "I thought it was gonna be like Get Out." It's muttered to Nicasia more than Ava, in his defense. One of the only scary movies he's ever watched and yet just a little time in Grey Harbor and he is constantly in vague fear of being Get Out'd." With his small defense made he folds his large arms over his chest and watches Ava's back as she works, meandering next to Nicasia.

The whole backyard is the best its ever looked. Even back when Nicasia and Myles used to stay back here. Used to lay in the hammock together or carve their initials into the huge oak tree. That was the best Myles could ever remember it and even that memory pales in comparison to what Ava manages to do in five minutes. Myles is still staring. Listening. Trying to listen. He works his jaw for a moment. Taking a few pacing steps out to look at their brand new yard. He stares wide eyed at their backyard. It's beautiful. He looks at the glowing woman. Back to the yard. "Fu--"

Then he turns around and vomits into a bush that she just went to the trouble of making look so nice.

Ava looks rather pleased with the yard, though a bit tired from using her powers so much since she's gotten here. Still, her delight is obvious. "You don't seem to have one here, so you should be fine," is quickly assured. "Believe me, you'd see it if you had one, they aren't subtle." Nic's hand is lifted and Ava can only nod. "One of my skills is being able to look at you and read your abilities and how powerful you are in it. Also, I can raise or lower that power level by a little bit. I lowered Myles' a little before, which was enough to make the stuff fall off of him. He didn't have enough of the same pull to keep it pinned to him any longer."

Poor Myles. Ava walks over and rubs his back for a moment before giving it a quick pat. "Sorry. I guess that was a little much for a first display, huh?"

Know who isn't at all concerned about this? The dog. Lady seems to take all of this as an invitation to find out what all this new and improved stuff in her yard is and takes off at a trot, tail waving like a fuzzy banner so that she can go stick her nose into every single thing that's popped up, greened up, flowered and sprouted.

Nicasia is stuck on, "Lightning bolts?" her question hasn't actually been answered but it matters less and less, the matter of the yard now a little less noteworthy than the matter of her ex-husband, whose mutter about the movie is particularly meaningful for some reason, jarring her out of her own reverie just in time for him to lean over and puke into the bush. "...shit." Then, "Yeah, that was a little much for a first display, but..." Words fail her for another moment. Two, three, five, ten of them. "I think maybe we are going to need a day or two to regroup."

Hands on his knees, Myles is unloading whats left of his dinner and probably let's face it more than a few gulps from a flask all over that bush. There's the little time of breathing, before opening up again. Then he's breathing heavily, shoulders rising and falling as he recovers. A hand comes to his back and starts rubbing it. His hand comes up to the back of the woman, pressing there for a moment. "Sorry." He breathes. "Thanks." Perhaps this somewhat familial gesture he thought was given towards Nicasia, as he looks slightly surprised when he straightens to find Ava there. He doesn't jerk his hand away immediately though. "Thanks, Ava. Fuck. I'm sorry. Is there like-- Do you have some fuckin' pamphlets or some shit?"

He hears Nicasia and his hand drops slowly turning to face the rest of the yard. He looks blearily over the yeard. "Fuck. Good work." Beat. "What-- What else can I do?" He hears Nicasia repeating lightning bolts over and over. And it's almost like he's bored of moving things with his mind and wants his next present, please.

"I say lightning bolts, but basically you can shoot electricity. That's why you have trouble with batteries. Electrical charges and build up. I can do the same with fire, and he can pick up heavy objects and fling them at people." Ava smiles briefly at the stunned woman. "I'm sorry, I know it's a lot. Taking a few days is more than okay. But I will warn you. If you find yourself in a very very vivid dream, where if feels as though you are awake. If you can feel pain in that dream and things seem odd? That is not a normal Dream and you need to do everything you can to survive it. Do what you can to not get injured."

Ava raises a hand. "I can explain more another time after you guys have taken all of this in. Just remember that advice for now, okay? It's alarmingly important." Myles gets another pat before he straightens. "I put my hands inside dead people all the time, you're fine," she assures. "You? One of the things you can do is put a shield up in front of yourself or other people to protect them from some danger. Very helpful in combat situations. Also opening doors to another realm. But we'll talk about that one later or you might vomit again."

When Ava starts talking about dreams where people feel pain and things seem odd, Nicasia lifts a hand and pinches the back of it, where her thumb joins her palm, hard enough that it's visibly reddened when she lets go. It brings her out of her dazed look long enough to lift her eyebrows in challenge, but it's extremely short-lived. "Yeah, this is kind of a lot. Just all of it kind of a lot, especially since when I woke up this morning the worst thing I thought I was going to have to do today is decide whether the freezer half of the unit in there can be salvaged enough to store stuff in."

She looks past at Myles though and her expression softens a little, but only for a moment, a flicker of expression that sobers back up just a moment later. "I... yeah. Thanks, Ava." She does mean that, however. It doesn't need any embellishment to be genuine.

I put my hands in dead people all the time

Myles looks down at her hand currently on his back.

Whatever. Another realm. Useful in combat situations. Combat situations? He blinks.

"I need to lay down." For the rest of the day. Myles hand goes to grip Ava's shoulder giving a gentle squeeze before he just... wanders off. Back into the house. A few moments later there is a,

"Come on baby." And Lady runs in after him.

They'll have to schedule a follow up appointment with the good doctor.