Duplicity Contact Post

[notrosecolored]

Call, text, action all go here

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[notrosecolored]

You woke up in the tub. Where are you now?

[fireshow]

in the house

[notrosecolored]

I'm coming to you.

[fireshow]

ok

[notrosecolored]

[ It takes him about 20 minutes to show up. He does not look harried, frazzled or any kind of disarray. He is, in fact, very put together.

But also holding takeout in the hand he's not using to knock ]

[fireshow]

[ Well that makes one of them because when John answers the door, it's with slow movements and a bit of a struggle. The sight Scott gets is one John Allerdyce wearing sunglasses and a sheet draped around him, even over his head as a means to keep himself covered. Looking like a pale motherfucker who just crawled out of his own grave. ]

Can you hurry up? It hurts to be in the light.

[notrosecolored]

[ Scott gets in and the door closed fast enough, also figuring out John did just crawl out of a metaphorical grave. ]

Is this adeath hangover or did someone turn you into a vampire?

[fireshow]

You're fuckin' hilarious.

[ Slowly, he turns, steps just as slow as he makes his way into the lavish house that belongs to his dominant... who is not here and not replying to his messages. So it's just John.

Heading for the long couch in the living room, he slowly drops himself down onto it and lays there with the sheet wrapped around him and sunglasses still on, the lights within the house all off, curtains drawn. Not even the fire is crackling. It all just hurts to look at. ]

[notrosecolored]

That was actually a serious question.

[ He's been here once before, but follows John to the house and sits on the floor near the couch, up by John's head. He's navigating fine in sunglasses, anyway and hey, they match.]

[fireshow]

[ His sunglasses are just black so, not as cool as Cyclops, but.

Taking a moment to consider Scott's previous question, he lays there on his side on the couch. Quiet. ]

I don't... remember. Not really. I see... bits and pieces of things. I remember being chased by a sentinel.

[notrosecolored]

Yeah. you were talking to me at the time.

[ Matter of fact but his stomach clenches and hurts when he says it. He doesn't register that but... it got to him. A lot. ]

[fireshow]

[ Was he? He doesn't remember. ]

I woke up in the tub naked. The water running. But no one was here.

[notrosecolored]

The water was running?

[ That.

That is alarming. ]

[fireshow]

Yeah.

[ Hence his being confused how he got here. ]

My clothes were on the bed, too. Folded. We don't have a maid or anything.

[notrosecolored]

[ He frowns. ]

Is it possible caliban was here but either had to leave or didn't want to be here when you woke up?

[fireshow]

[ Now John frowns. ]

No. That's more something I'd do to him.

[notrosecolored]

Do you have any kind of security or alarm system here?

[ He brought food. Sorry John you can have some but he's eatng regardless. Physical necessity, etc. ]

[fireshow]

He's a demon king of Hell and I'm a fire manipulating mutant. Anyone who comes in here is getting burned alive, trust me.

[ In other words? They're the security system. ]

[notrosecolored]

Yes, unless one of you is out and the other one is unconscious. At which point you're just vulnerable.

[ Have you thought about a dog? ]

[fireshow]

You want a job as a personal security guard?

[ That's pure on sarcasm. Despite his shitty state, he can still throw sarcasm around just fine. ]

[notrosecolored]

I don't have time for other jobs, but they have to sell a basic alarm system somewhere in this city. Even a loud noise and low quality camera would help.

[fireshow]

[ The huff should be enough of a yeah whatever that Scott can pick up on. ]

Why'd you come here anyways?

[notrosecolored]

Because you've been dead, I couldn't stop the dead, and you were alone.

[ Because... he... cares.... ]

[fireshow]

[ When Scott explains, John remains quiet. The thought that he had died — from a sentinel? Is that what happened? He can't remember. It's all broken up into pieces that he can barely see. Regardless, it's not anything that he can process — that he wants to process, really. So he's just quiet there on the couch.

Shifting, he sits up then, sheet still wrapped around him, sunglasses still on. ]

I'm fine.

[ He's a fucking liar, but. John's going to be John. ]

[notrosecolored]

Did I say you weren't?

[ Just... eating a chicken salad sandwich. He offers the bag in the unlikely event John wants to eat. ]