psychoshenanigans | GRATIA // PSL

Entry tags:

GRATIA // PSL

So, here's what Irahl knows.

He's alone in a dark, cold cave. He has most, if not all, of his gear. No one is guarding his location. As he heads away from the spot where he came to consciousness, no one tries to stop him, and no one gets in his way. The few people he finds down there seem human, and not about to approach the nearly-seven-foot man that comes stalking out of the lower tunnels. Honestly, everyone here seems a surprised and a little astonished about his... Entire scene.

There is a way up. It's a maze of twisting corridors and confusing passageways, half of which feel too small for him. It's bigger and bigger groups of people, some of which scatter like schools of fish, and some of which have to be pushed through to get anywhere. It's climbing up into streets lit with dingy lights, graffiti-covered hallways, warehouses, weird holes in stone walls that may or may not be windows. It's alarm bells, it's people yelling at each other down the street. It's just an absurd number of stairs. A couple of people make an attempt to stop him somewhere, and it goes poorly for them.

Elsewhere, events are being set in motion where Irahl cannot see. But he's on his way out.

Eventually, more people try to stop him. At the end of another long stretch of Underground city, a group of official-looking folks are putting a real effort into blocking off the obvious exit, and some of them have weapons.

Down a side alley, into another tunnel, and then the space opens up into a... Plaza, of some sort? The floor is made of stone. The buildings surrounding it are made of stone and are hard to distinguish from one another. At at least the ceiling (also made of stone) is a lot higher than before. Cavernous. There's some kind of sculpture in the middle of it, some impressive feat of geometric stonework that gives the illusion of defying gravity despite weighing literal tons.

This is where someone finally catches him. Sounds have been echoing unhelpfully down every passageway, making it hard to tell if people are coming or going - but this series of quick footsteps comes from an upward direction before someone hits the ground about five feet in front of Irahl.

His clothes are different. His hair is better-kept. Maybe if the situation wasn't quite so tense, there'd be time to see the ways in which his face is different, the way his eyes don't have quite as vicious and sharp a gleam as they used to. But whatever Irahl can take in of him, there is Robin, having hopped down from a rooftop to put himself between him and the exit again.

"...Holy shit."

Kind of weird that he looks absolutely shocked to see the person in front of him, though.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's a good couch!

Vincent has already got a bite of something in his mouth when he answers from just beyond the kitchen counter, "'Cause that's where he lives."

Robin pauses. He's still standing by the door, slowly straightening out his disheveled outfit while whatever injuries he sustained begin to stitch themselves up. This is easier to think about than what just happened to him, so he latches onto it.

And he'd been worried, for a second, that the Capitol had some... World-hopping magic he didn't know about, or an open portal to the Other Place he didn't know about... But maybe Vincent is just confused?

"No, he's from Nor. The big city in Nor."

Robin does glance at Irahl again, finally, to see if Irahl looks like he knows what Vincent is talking about.

"...Yeah, the big city." Vincent doesn't know what 'Nor' is, but it's not like Robin doesn't have a tendency to refer to places by weird, archaic names they had a thousand years ago or whatever. Vincent also 'looks' over at Irahl, "Only one big city I know of. Right?"

While he still has the couch to himself, Irahl spreads out. He's all the way over to the right arm of it, but he sprawls out a bit now that he's not bogged down by his cloak, a bag of gear, and a gun the size of a man. He stretches his legs out a little, drapes one arm along the back of the couch.

He shrugs the shoulder attached to the arm on the back of the couch when two sets of eyes look over in his direction. He shrugs because it is an archaic name. Most people born within the last century would have gotten confused over it being called anything but 'the world,' the same way they would have only known their home as 'the city.'

"Was hoping it was the same city, but there's no way nobody would be talking about all this down here."

"Oh, yeah..." Vincent didn't realize Irahl thought Skeleton City was much closer to Aboveground civilization, "The Capitol's really far from here."

Robin glances between the both of them in growing disbelief. These two idiots think they're from... The same place... How did they get to be this chummy and not figure out that they're from completely separate worlds!?

Something about Irahl's getting comfortable on the couch is especially annoying on top of that, and Robin starts to say something... But stops barely a syllable in. He's already had his mental capacity snapped in half two-and-a-half-too-many times today, he can't handle the thought of these two chucklefucks arguing him on this. They barely accepted anything else he's said.

So he... Gods, with a long-suffering sigh, he tries just one more thing.

"The Capitol... The city that's famously in the desert."

He'll just... Put that out there.

"...Yeah?" Says Vincent, still not getting it.

Edited (stick get your worldbuilding under control) 2024-07-20 03:48 (UTC)

"Desert?" Miraculously, something has gotten through. Irahl's eyebrows actually rise. "It's in a desert?"

Yeah, no, that's not right at all. Irahl's brow furrows again after that as he starts wracking his meager understanding of the world to try and figure where a desert could be.

He's expending real mental energy trying to remember the various things he'd heard over the years from his parents and others who were old and worldly enough to know what else is out there. He remembers tales of the ocean, other cities and settlements, legends and histories... but where a desert might be isn't coming immediately to mind.

To Vincent specifically, "Remember the forest I was talking about? That's what's all around the city."

"...Oh," Vincent realizes. Irahl can hear the telltale pause of his mental image getting a serious update. "Damn, seriously?"

Vincent takes a bite of food to think through the implications. He is realizing, slowly, that Irahl isn't actually from where he thought he was from...

"Well shit, explains why we couldn't track you down at the Capitol... Ain't a forest city anywhere that I know of."

Robin is relieved to hear Vincent going in the right direction. At the very least, now they won't run off to the Capitol only for Irahl to be disappointed it's not his home city. He can live with this. They can think whatever dumb shit they want about where they're from and Robin can try to broach the subject again on some other day.

"Man," Vincent continues to speculate, "You gotta be... On the other side of the mountains, or somethin'..."

This doesn't mean Robin can't still be deeply disappointed by their idiocy. He slowly lowers his face into his hands to keep from screaming.

Whatever Robin's reasons for letting them temporarily live in ignorance are, it is probably kinder to let them have this. As it is, Irahl is already having a 'how were we so stupid' moment, wondering how Vincent hadn't caught on to the fact that his city was surrounded by forest when all they had talked about was forest, and he hadn't thought to make it more clear just in case.

Irahl is also not seeming to deal very well with news that their homes are even further apart than expected. In his subtle way, he radiates disappointment. He sinks further back on the couch, his gaze drifts and lowers off to the side as he thinks. He sighs.

"Guess so."

A couple different thoughts are pulling him down as they wander through his mind. It wouldn't have mattered how hard he'd looked for Vincent; he never would have found him. Getting back home is seeming more and more daunting. Finding his way here again if he does find himself returning home seems impossible.

Vincent isn't exactly feeling like a genius either... But when your whole world is basically only a couple of landmarks, there are just some things that seem like they'd be a given. He eats some more food. It helps him think.

Robin, meanwhile, decides that if this is the level of intelligence they're going to be working at, he might as well have a seat. He pulls over one what's basically a bar stool from around the kitchen table and finally plants himself somewhere.

"Okay... That's mostly why I was hoping to get a few minutes to talk this out." He props a chin on one of his hands, elbow propped on his knee, slouching under the day he's already had. "I'll just... Lay out the situation so we're all on the same page."

He does glance over at Vincent, but ultimately decides this explanation is getting directed towards a point near the middle of the couch.

"People here do not take kindly to anyone with inhuman features. And unfortunately, even if you cover up, you're going to attract a lot of attention for being Vincent-sized."

"Ugh," contributes Vincent.

Robin continues, "And for carrying a bunch of unsanctioned equipment, as far as the authorities here are concerned. In the short-term, I know a way up to the surface that bypasses all the security on the top levels. It'll spit us straight into the forest. I can probably keep the forest from getting on Vincent's case."

He pauses before getting to the other reason he really wanted Irahl to understand his home isn't within easy reach.

"We can probably even set you up so you could stay out there for a few days, but... For longer than that, we need to figure out what to do. You can't exactly walk home," he'll put it tactfully, for now, "And if you want to come back here... You can probably sneak back down through the way you came out, but we're going to need to get you some kind of a cover story if you want to walk around anywhere with a tall ceiling."

Vincent sounds like he's thinking. A thoughtful noise followed by contemplative chewing. But there is a lull in the conversation where Irahl can voice his thoughts and feelings on the subject, should he have any.

Agitation shows in the way that Irahl's knee bounces for a few irritated seconds. The way that he glowers a hole through the opposite wall is pretty standard, however.

"Cover story."

It's probably supposed to be a question. It is said more as a skeptical statement expressing his doubt over something like that working, wondering if Robin has any brilliant ideas about it, and making it known via his tone alone how much he dislikes a plan that relies on him lying well.

"And what about my equipment?" Let's address that point first, because if someone tries to take his stuff, he's going to freak out.

Irahl's skepticism does get Robin to second-guess his plan. He's been patching together a scheme (around everything else) for the last hour, but he hadn't quite remembered that Irahl has a very particular set of skills that aren't really focused around talking or lying.

He'll leave the cover story alone for now, addressing the second concern first.

"The equipment's not bad, I can dig up some licenses and have them doctored in a few days. You just need some papers to show the Priesthood in case they decide to get nosy."

"Nah, Irahl's right," Vincent pipes up, "Too complicated."

"Okay," Robin frowns, his eyes darting back up towards Vincent, "Then what's simpler?"

It's a good question. Vincent wanders out of the kitchen, still holding his container of food. As he passes Robin, he pats him once on the arm. Maybe he was just reaching over to check where he was so that he didn't bump into him. Maybe it was for another reason--but it has the effect of pulling Robin's attention, which simultaneously pulls him away from an irritation he'd been sinking into.

Robin watches quietly as Vincent plops down on the left side of the couch, putting himself between the two of them. He turns to make it clear he's addressing Irahl.

"So... I know shit's crazy, an' you just got here. So you don't gotta decide nothin' right away." Vincent also holds out the container of food to Irahl, which is filled about a third of the way with breaded pieces of fish. Hopefully Irahl remembers that he's under no obligation to take any. "But my brother's in town. Maybe you should meet him. He's a big Capitol guy, an' he'd be... He'd get your situation, I think. Might be able to set you up so you don't gotta lie about nothin', technically."

And just like that, Vincent gets two high-strung creatures to both redirect and calm down. He makes a good buffer. He moves Robin's attention over, and hands Irahl a distraction that keeps him rooted right here in the room.

Irahl automatically takes the container of food when it's held out to him, regardless of whether he's planning on sampling it or not. He's at least curious enough and in need of a focal point that he peers inside the container as Vincent explains.

He remembers enough about Vincent's brother for it to matter. And for many of the same reasons that he'd obeyed the shackles of uncomfortable laws and rules for so long back home, he likes the idea of doing things legitimately as possible here.

Leave it to Vincent to invite optimism back to the party.

"...Yeah? How so?"

Edited (no leasing. irahl don't pay rent!) 2024-07-21 03:13 (UTC)

Robin watches this unfold with open fascination. The way Vincent is able to redirect someone's energy so easily, instead of just feeding into it... Even the way that he thinks to solve problems, it's so different from the way Robin operates that he's always been amazed to see it happen.

He's going to feel sullen and mopey about having to explain all the nasty shit he's been up to for the last seven years, but he knows he made the right call. He would rather rake himself over the coals (wouldn't be the first time) than not get to be friends with Vincent. And he has to admit, as jealous as he is, that it's no wonder Irahl likes him. Anyone would like Vincent. He's just a good person to be around.

And Vincent must like Irahl an awful lot. If defending the guy hadn't made it obvious, the fact that Vincent is willing to reach out to his brother over this is not insignificant.

"M'not a hundred percent sure," explains Vincent, "But he's pretty high up in some army an' government stuff, so maybe he can commission you to kill a couple monsters down here or somethin'."

Irahl knows that Vincent's brother is also not-entirely-human just like Vincent is, so the implication is that he would likely overlook Irahl's own less-than-human features where other places wouldn't.

"That's not... a terrible idea..." Robin adds, surprised he can't think of any immediate pitfalls. Maybe this will even get Irahl out to the Capitol, which would severely decrease the chances of him and Tek somehow bumping into each other. "Saying you're on Capitol business can get you past a lot of obstacles."

And if people start assuming he's from the Capitol, it won't be so strange that Irahl doesn't know anything about Skeleton City, and that he just kind of showed up one day out of nowhere. It's still a cover story, but with very little actual lying.

"He's a real pain in the ass, but I mean..." Vincent shrugs against the couch. "He gets shit done and he ain't a narc. I figure the worst that'll happen is he says no and tells us to stop fuckin' botherin' him."

Irahl listens, thinks, and tilts the container slowly back and forth to watch the pieces of fish and breading listlessly shift with gravity. He's considering, though it has nothing to do with the food he's looking at.

"He doesn't sound worse than my current bosses." And if he's Vincent's brother, there's a good chance that he's considerably better than those guys. Though, now that he's on the topic, something occurs to him... "Good chance I'm no longer employed, anyway."

And that's a topic that he suddenly doesn't want to think about, so he quickly moves on before he can get too hung up on it. He hands the container back to Vincent as if he's passing the topic off along with it.

"What would I say about why I'm here? Or where I'm from?"

He doesn't specify, but he means the question in reference to either Vincent's brother or anyone else who asks. It's the biggest question hanging over him right now, in all respects. He can deflect and ignore his way around most topics, (Robin probably still clearly remembers,) but he doesn't know where to begin with this one.

Vincent can't help but frown when he hears that about Irahl's job. As unfair as his employment situation had been, Vincent also knows there were some pretty big reasons he stayed instead of just fucking off into the woods or something. He takes the container back when he hears its contents being rolled towards him in the carton.

He decides not to touch on the topic and follows Irahl's diversion, but the follow-up questions aren't exactly easy to answer. Vincent begins to think while across the room, Robin lets out another small sigh and speaks.

"Well, you can't say you just woke up here. Right now, my leading theory is that there was some kind of dramatic magical event that caused you to appear here, but folks in this city are about as freaked out by magic as they are by monsters."

Robin looks a little annoyed by this fact, now that he's been places where magic won't get you killed. This conveniently hides that he's also annoyed that he doesn't know how Irahl got here, or why people from Nor seem to be showing up in Skeleton City in general. But he continues on.

"Honestly... If we can get you those papers, you can probably just say you're from another city in the forest, far away from here. You may not be believed all the time, but if they think you've got ties to the Capitol... The Capitol has their own skyport, so who knows what other cities they've been in contact with. You know?"

It's not exactly airtight, but again, Robin's banking on the average person filling in the story themselves, and anyone more thorough being put at-ease by some official documentation.

Vincent then speaks a little out of nowhere, kind of jumping off of Robin's thoughts but also kind of skipping back to Irahl's first question.

"My brother knows about what happened. He was helpin' me look for you." He gestures a little with his box, "So I dunno about other people, but he'll at least get that shit's weird an' hard to explain."

"...You told him about the Fleet?" Robin asks, surprised. This is apparently new information to him.

"Yeah, well... Couldn't not." Vincent shrugs.

Irahl is also surprised to hear that Vincent has told anyone about their adventures in space. That's... brave, but it also answers the biggest lingering logistical problem that he hasn't been able to solve in his head. He had been most concerned about the step of trying to convince or explain things to the guy who will get him the documentation needed to convince everyone else.

"Must have an understanding brother."

He settles back in his seat then, and it isn't in a making-himself-comfortable way. Despite his coat, armor, and vest laden with gear, he folds his arms tightly across his chest. He needs a minute to brood and run all of this new information through the gears a couple times.

"...So, returning home isn't an option. For now." For a couple of reasons. "Guess it's waiting until we talk to your brother. Hope that goes well. And then waiting after that?"

He doesn't specify or ask out loud about whether this waiting will be done above or below ground, when that's normally (and was up until now) his primary concern. For whatever reason, he opts not to be the one to bring that aspect back into the discussion.

Vincent kind of laughs when Irahl says that his brother must be understanding. A dark chuckle, perhaps. He would not have used that exact word, but it's close enough to the truth that he's not going to correct it.

"Bro's going to be around for another week or so. We can go bug him now, but... We can also give it a couple days, however you're feelin'. And then, yeah, I guess waitin' until we got somethin' to work with. Right?"

Vincent turns his attention over to Robin, who is regarding them both thoughtfully. His only contribution, however, is to simply agree, "Right."

"'Kay. Then I guess... I'll have some stuff to do, but you're welcome to stay here 'til you're on your feet. Whatever that looks like." Vincent reaches over with his free hand to pat Irahl on the shoulder (or close, anyway), starting to smile again, "Pretty sure I promised you I'd show you some good bars around here, yeah? An' I remember bein' promised a lake tour..."

Not that he's... Yeah, okay, he's still really excited that Irahl is here.

"...Staying with Vincent is a good idea." Robin finally adds, "I've got some things I'll need to go take care of sooner or later, but Vincent's a little more flexible."

And Vincent agrees, "Yeah, I mean - I gotta make rent, but once that's done I'm game for whatever."

Just a handful of months home, and Irahl already feels so unused to the friendliness that he had gotten from Vincent every day (or nearly every day) on the Eclipse. He freezes automatically when a hand goes reaching over in his direction, belatedly catching up as he remembers how often he used to get these companionable shoulder-pats. And then Vincent smiles and brings up promises that he barely remembers being exchanged. It's startling and uncomfortable, and he can't help awkwardly half-catching a smile to himself as he glances off somewhere else.

"Great."

Irahl sounds less than thrilled, but he's settled. Anxiety isn't straining at his posture anymore. The wide-open world above can wait, for now.

Settled is enough for Vincent. Being suddenly displaced wasn't easy for him, so it must be three times as rough on Irahl, who hasn't even been dropped somewhere familiar. Seeming satisfied with things for now, he turns back to Robin and pops a couple of those cold fish things into his mouth.

"So where's this secret way up to the surface, huh?"

"Across the neighborhood and up a very long ladder," Robin answers, finally standing back up. "And at this point... The sun'll probably be setting by the time we get up there. Do you two want to head out now, or wait until dawn?"

Robin thinks he can make it work either way, but Vincent stops chewing for a moment, visibly surprised. "S'that late already?"

"I know..." Incredibly, Robin cracks the first smile Irahl has seen from him since he got here, even if it's a small one. "Busy day."

Vincent is hesitant, because he's already run a marathon today and isn't thrilled about going into the forest at night, but he tilts his head in Irahl's direction anyway. "What do you think?"

--What part of 'settled' didn't they get?

Judging by the vaguely surprised "hmm?" that he first responds with, Irahl had not expected to be consulted again, despite Robin clearly directing his question at 'you two.' This results in a lull while Irahl is forced to finally look at and consider his feelings on the matter. And it takes a little thinking, but a few things become clear even if he still doesn't quite grasp the reasons behind them.

The first is that he can no longer completely ignore the fact that he is tired. Scrambling through essentially half-of-a-city's-worth of inclines and rounds of severe emotional whiplash has drained him, and torrents of adrenaline are no longer powering him through it.

The second fact he's realizing is that getting to the surface is no longer the urgent priority that it had been, and it has very little to do with learning that he can't just head up there and walk home. It had never been about getting home; it had been entirely about getting out. When he'd woken up to find himself trapped under the earth, he'd panicked. But now that he has Vincent here, the panic has dulled--just like it had in space--and he feels a little less trapped by it.

None of this can be voiced out loud, though. Instead, he's got one word to sum up his thoughts to Vincent.

"...Harpies."

Well, pardon these two knuckleheads for not realizing Irahl's earlier no-holds-barred race to get out of Skeleton City was entirely based on misinformed panic. At least they both pick up on Irahl's surprise now. Vincent is a little relieved once he thinks about it, glad that the guy doesn't hate the Underground so much that he feels he has to leave now... Though Robin is a little saltier, given that he had a gun trained at him about it and all that.

Robin has no idea what "harpies" means, which is why he feels even saltier as Vincent makes a noise of recognition and nods gravely. The fuck are these two talking about?

"Mm, no. Good point." Vincent agrees, "Guess we're stayin' here for a bit. I already ran a marathon tryin' to find you fuckers today anyway."

At least it seems to be settled. Robin crosses his arms, regards the both of them reclined on the couch. Now that there's no emergency, he's already getting anxious to leave--he should check on Tek (and fight off the oncoming fear that Tek somehow already knows that someone else from Nor is here), he should get a few things, he should... Take a couple hours to reassess his life and tabulate risks. And he can't do any of that if he's still here watching Irahl.

The instinct is still there. He'd thought he'd shoved all of that pretty far behind him, but apparently it's a lot closer to the surface than he realized. And he's always hated not having control over things he likes. As stressful as it is, a favorite person of his has just been plucked out of the ether and dropped into his lap.

It says a lot about how much Robin trusts Vincent that he's even considering leaving the two of them together alone to be better friends than he thinks he and Irahl ever were.

"Later, then. If we have time, I can go pick some things up for a trip." And he can go check to make sure that passageway is still secure, since he hasn't actually used it in a couple of years. "You two can catch up, since it seems like you've got a lot to talk about."

"Are you gonna be okay on your own?" Vincent asks this in Robin's direction, a surprisingly blunt question for the demigod, though he says it so casually that it lacks any hint of condescension. Just a friend checking on a friend.

Doesn't mean Robin isn't momentarily blindsided by the question. He doesn't blink and doesn't respond for whole seconds too long before finally coming up with an answer.

"Yeah. Promise I'm not gonna get up to anything." An odd flash of a smile, "Besides, I was threatened into coming back. Pretty sure."

"Mmhm," Vincent confirms, setting the carton of food on his lap so he can properly recline, knitting his fingers behind his head. Robin didn't really answer his question, but Robin rarely does when he asks things like this. Vincent pauses before saying anything else, in case Irahl seems like he's got a strong opinion about Robin's leaving one way or another.

It's Irahl's turn to quietly observe the other two as they interact, and it's already beginning to inform a lot. It had been such a shock to hear that these two extremely different people knew each other, but even this small exchange between them is filling in some gaps. He's starting to see where the traits he knows about both of them might fit together.

He observes Robin in particular. It isn't through the scope of a rifle, but the buffer created by Vincent and the eight-or-so months apart affords him a similar sort of space to view Robin across. And it's from that safe distance that he briefly speaks up when a lull settles.

"...'Years,' hmm?" It's maybe the first time that he has addressed Robin neutrally since he'd first arrived here. Just a brief touch to double-check where they're picking up from.

Robin is in a very strange place; he's normally very unguarded and weird in Vincent's house, tends to drop a lot of pretense of social etiquette or charm. But Irahl is also there, throwing off his sense of how he should be, because he's both a familiar face and a giant question mark. Robin remembers most of their time together as broad strokes, bad colors, and desperation. How do you act around that? Putting on a face doesn't feel right, given what they went through, but what's underneath that isn't good.

So he finds himself in this holding pattern between trying to cover up and not knowing what to cover up with. When Irahl addresses him, his eyes dart over immediately, but he doesn't answer right away. Again, taking too many seconds to figure out what to say, to come unstuck.

"Years. Yeah," he says, uncrossing his arms. "They've been... Very busy, very... Confusing. Still trying to figure all of it out."

He glances away again, pausing, searching for some other closing remark to answer a question he thinks he's been asked and he hasn't fully figured out for himself yet. When something does finally occur to him, a smirk flickers briefly over his face.

"Despite pulling a gun on me, it is good to see you again."

That gets a quiet "heh" out of Vincent, at least.

If he'd been the sort of person who indulged in active listening, he would have nodded along in commiseration, but not so much in reference to the content of Robin's answer.

For Irahl, it's more about what he's picking up in the unspoken details. He also doesn't know how to be, and is holding his breath until he can take his armor off--both figuratively and literally.

There are protective layers around both of them now that hadn't been there before. Robin used to gush around Irahl without a moment's consideration to whether he should or not, so that fact has apparently changed. And Irahl had been peeled unwillingly out of his shell in that cage. It's a little different now that he has a choice.

So, he gets a lot from the answer. A small smirk crosses his face as well.

"Yeah."

He leaves it vague as to whether he's agreeing with the complicated sentiment behind Robin's statement, or just the fact that he had in fact pulled a gun on him.

Robin gives one more glance in Irahl's direction, catching that smirk. Something about it feels familiar, but not in a bad way. It quells a lot of things that might have otherwise spun out of control the moment he stepped out of this room.

But he's not about to push his luck, either. He turns, finally making to leave back out the way he came in. He didn't bring anything in with him, so he doesn't have anything to collect when he leaves.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning. If you've got anything to charge, do it before the shut off the grid."

He opens the door, he steps out, he shuts the door behind them. Robin heads out into the early evening city, mind now shifting to the dozens of other variables that have been spinning in his periphery.

This would have left Irahl and Vincent in a profound silence... Except that Vincent figures out what Robin meant a moment later, sitting up with a small start.

"Oh! Shit, he's right. Do you still got that, uh... That music thing of yours?"

It is kind of Robin to have dropped that comment about the grid before stepping out, and this kindness only partially has anything to do with Irahl's music player. Truth be told, the device should have enough charge to last him several days if he doesn't play it constantly, so he isn't as distraught over having access to power as he has at certain key points in the past. The greater gift is that it prompts Vincent into immediately banishing the silence in the room before it settles, and it gives Irahl something to do.

Otherwise, just as Robin has his variables and spirals waiting for him as soon as the door shuts, Irahl has his. When Vincent sits up, Irahl blinks from where he had already taken a moment to rest his head back on the couch and close his eyes against the stress. He had been gearing up to try and bury things rattling in his head, but Vincent pulls him back before he can get very far in that.

"Yeah..."

At least he's mostly sure. Checking for the shape of the device in one of the pouches of his tactical vest had been one of the very first things he'd done when he'd woken up in the bottom of this pit, but he hadn't actually stopped to take it out and confirm it with his eyeballs. So, he does so now, fishing it out and clicking a button to turn on the screen, just to verify that it still works.

"You got an outlet or something?" As demonstrated several times in space, he'll take exposed wiring if need be. He'll make it work.

Whether Robin dropped the comment to stave away silence or leave some last-minute chaos, it is a gift either way. A very overwhelming situation is staved off for a few more minutes as Vincent runs through all the implications of their power system going down.

"Yeah, yeah, actually..." He points forward towards the massive old radio on the table in front of them, "Go ahead an' unplug that thing, you can get power outta there."

Thankfully, even the ruins of an advanced future civilization used some pretty universal ports. In the event that it doesn't work, Vincent won't be mad if Irahl does some hotwiring. Someone's already been back there once to splice some wires and siphon power off of the main line.

Vincent moves the carton of food off of his lap so he can sit back up. He leaves it conveniently between the both of them.

"Power down here goes off in the evenin', we've got... Probably just a couple hours left. And then it's lights out an' no extra heat for ten hours. City-wide. Mostly."

And after explaining that, he has to laugh, thinking back to their time on their cramped little ship together. "Ain't gotta worry about air or gravity though, that's a plus."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject