Duplicity Contact Post

[notrosecolored]

Call, text, action all go here

Comments

[notrosecolored]

Do you not eat?

[swanned]

Of course I fucking eat, I'm not a ghost.

[notrosecolored]

Or vampire, apparently. Great, we can both eat a sandwich and stare at each other.

[swanned]

Bit weird, but okay.

[notrosecolored]

But you staring at me while I eat isn't weird?

[swanned]

No, it's a test.

[notrosecolored]

Of what?

[swanned]

Numeracy. What do you think it's a test of? Jesus, you went off about never having heard of butter or what the fuck ever, I'm going to make you a proper sandwich.

[notrosecolored]

I forgot that conversation happened. You watching me eat is still weird. You're having a sandwich too. If I hate it you're having two.

[swanned]

Can't believe you forgot it. And I thought I was the only excitement in your life.

[notrosecolored]

You're the only something in my life.

[swanned]

How romantic. Open the door, then.

[notrosecolored]

[ If it was... someone else he'd probably just say 'it's unlocked'. This guy? No. He gets up, puts Logan in Wade's bedroom and opens the door for him.

Steps back so Ellery can come in.

Run down as hell on the outside, but the inside's pretty nice. Hardwood floors are probably the best feature, it's not exactly decorated but... decent.]

Are you like this with everyone?

[swanned]

[Ellery is holding a tote bag containing half a baguette, a loaf bag with the crust and six slices of bread still in it, the remains of a block of cheese, a stick of butter with knife marks down one side, three tomatoes in a napkin, and a miraculously intact pack of ham.

The bag also has a half used bottle of conditioner, two lighters and a pack of matches, but they're not dinner.

He breezes past Scott as the door opens, chin lifted to take in the surroundings.]

I don't cook for everyone. Why did you move here?

[notrosecolored]

[ This guy is annoying as hell, but almost impossibly endearing. It's very irritating and confusing, but Scott thinks he likes him.

He closes the door behind Ellery and locks it again. Then nods toward the kitchen. ]


Do sandwiches count as cooking?

[swanned]

Is it polite to get fucking picky with someone who's cooking for you?

[Ellery's already on his way toward the kitchen, too far to catch Scott's nod. But he stops short when he hears the door click.]

Do you always keep that locked?

[notrosecolored]

Mostly. It slows my kid down when he decides to barge in. Do you want it unlocked?

[ Because he'll be a smart ass about sandwiches but he's not going to mess with a situation that might be claustrophobia in someone with abilities (and that plant thing was a clue). It... implies things to him. ]

[swanned]

[There's a beat before his shoulders unlock and he keeps walking as if nothing slowed him down.]

It's a bit "now we're shut in for the night" but it's fine, I suppose. You didn't say you had a fucking toddler. Any reason you keep him locked out in the yard?

[He's reached the kitchen by now, unpacking his mostly half eaten wares.]

[notrosecolored]

[ He heads into the kitchen, too, but puts on coffee instead. ]

He's 18 and his impulsivity isn't much above that of a toddler. He lives in public housing with his dominant but he likes to check in. Often abruptly.

[swanned]

Leaving the door unlocked more might cure him of that.

[Ellery sniffs. Then he sniffs the bread - he has no clue when its previous owner bought it but it seems fresh enough.

Kitchens are, largely, similar in theme - so he doesn't ask Scott where plates and cutlery are, just goes looking.]

Interesting that you're worried about him walking in on someone introducing you to butter. It wasn't a euphemism. How old are you?

[notrosecolored]

I'm mostly afraid of him interacting with anyone I like at all, in any capacity.

[ He loves Nate, but goddamn his kid is... a lot sometimes.

The question makes him pause, a little surprised but.]

36. Why?

[swanned]

You didn't seem like the teen-mom type.

[Not judgemental, except in the way that almost everything he says seems to turn something over, observe and criticise it in the most casual way possible.]

Fuck, the ham's got herbs on. Do you like [A squint at the pack] Garlic, rosemary and oregano?

[notrosecolored]

[ Yeah that kind of observational skill reminds him of someone. He hasn't pinned down who yet, but someone.

He goes back to making coffee.]

He's from a breeding facility in an alternate reality using my alternate reality self's DNA. Biologically mine, but not someone I raised.

That ham sounds better than I expected.

[ Butter still weird. ]

[swanned]

If you're sure. I don't want to be fucked over by a herb.

[After the 'breeding facility in an alternate reality' comment, that is the thing he chooses to respond to.

He makes sandwiches like he's on a production line, careless but efficient. Butter, cheese and ham, tomato sliced wafer thin. It's a minute before he gets around to saying anything else, although immediately clear he's been thinking in the meantime.]

But you still call him yours?

[notrosecolored]

Given what I saw of you the first time I met you, it wouldn't be the first time plants have fucked you over.

[ Automatic, careless banter while he watches the coffee, gets down a couple of mugs and puts away the few dishes in the dish drainer.

He doesn't hesitate to answer the other question, either. ]

Yeah. I would't say we've got a great relationship, but he's mine.