lucybox | whatever

whatever

EPISODE 1: meeting
EPISODE 2: the latvian mob
EPISODE 3: a concussion
EPISODE 4: bench talk
EPISODE 5: break-in

[ what would someone following the number connected to dave strider notice during recon? well.

dave strider, thirteen, gangly and edging on getting taller but way too skinny, angular and bony in a way that says he could stand to eat more food more often. he constantly wears shades. he equally constantly wears long-sleeved shirts and jeans in the houston heat. dave is too careful to ever let that shirt ride up enough to show what's underneath, and he never lets his shades get jostled off his face in public.

the kid has more of an online presence than his brother. he runs a webcomic with an avant garde sense of style and some truly disturbing strips that occasionally seem to correspond with times his number has come up; he sells shit on the site sometimes, t-shirts or book compilations or keychains. the money isn't saved but tends to get spent on groceries. he trolls internet forms at random but does seem to speak regularly to at least three other kids, and has for at least three years. these conversations are all mostly superficial even though the kids are close. the deepest he ever gets in them is with rose lalonde, who lives in new york. sometimes they talk about his dreams.

to each of them he only has positive things to say about his brother, whom he idolizes.

the other half of his computer use seems to go to online school, which dave does all right on. he only occasionally misses deadlines, but more frequently turns shit in ahead of time. he participates haphazardly on the forums as required, but aside from an odd sense of humor and a decent grasp on the subjects, he doesn't say anything worth reading.

following dave in person is harder. he doesn't leave the apartment often except to go to the store, or occasionally the library. he has hung out in the park once or twice but always goes home the second his cellphone buzzes with a text. his interactions with other people are limited; he's polite and casually friendly and charming to the grocery store employees and the librarian, and he doesn't turn people away when they talk to him exactly, but he never discusses anything of note and always excuses himself pretty quickly. dave doesn't like to be touched and doesn't let it happen, never needing to flinch back because he moves faster than that, and doesn't let himself get in the position where someone will try to touch him.

at the store he gets apple juice and bread and peanut butter. or junk food that keeps longer, kept at the back of his closet. nothing he has to refrigerate or heat up. at the library he gets art and film books or photography collections or comics or shit like my teacher is an alien or animorphs or pretty much anything. he doesn't usually check them out to go back home, unless it's a thing for school. when he signs his name on anything it's a careful angular scrawl and he likes to do it in red - dave always keeps a red pen in his pockets. at the park he tends to sit on a bench with good sightlines and sometimes he'll feed birds bits of torn bread and sometimes he'll scroll through shit on his phone (tumblr, random sites, pesterchum) but mostly he just kind of sits there and listens to music.

he downloads a lot of music. sometimes he mixes up new shit and uploads it, sending it to his friends or occasionally just keeping it to himself. dave maintains some social media accounts but is weird about them. there are disjointed quotes or phrases and oddly angled pictures and he seems to treat them like some sort of joke only he gets, but he's almost dedicated to them like he doesn't seem to be to a lot of shit. there's a blog he used to update but doesn't any longer about tony hawk and other things and every glimpse into his mind through his words is unclear and a little off.

a lot of the time he seems to be in the apartment alone. he isn't always, despite appearances, and he knows it. there's a ton of surveillance equipment inside the apartment and dave treats the cameras and recording devices with a casual weariness and wariness. his brother is constantly monitoring both dave and the equipment; fucking with that would probably be a bad idea for anyone paying attention, but it might be possible to jack some of those frequencies, if you're careful.

inside the apartment he mostly stays in his room. when he comes out he's nervous and cautious but nothing ever shows on his face. even in the sanctity of his own room this is true; dave doesn't emote when he can help it and even when he jumps when a trap goes off, his expression doesn't change an iota. when he speaks his voice is low and too-texan, but he doesn't usually unless he's outside of the apartment and has to. there is no point, since his brother seems disinterested in speaking to the kid. he rambles in his interactions with other people online but in person always cuts them short, seemingly uncomfortable with talking for too long.

the one activity that takes up most of his time, however, is training. at any hour of the day or night dave might be called to the roof. bro owns the entire building, and no one has ever called in anything about the striders. if they have, it was taken care of quickly and quietly and nothing ever got to the people who might have done something with it. bro watches everything and this is how things go: dave goes up the stairs with a sword in hand and once he's at the top it starts and then it keeps going until it's over. sometimes it goes on past that. it can take hours on end or only a few minutes, and there isn't any way to predict which it's going to be. eventually dave's left alone and he lies on the roof for a bit until he picks himself up and goes back inside the apartment. he patches himself up quickly and efficiently and doesn't complain at all. the most he has ever done is inform john egbert he got his ass kicked, and john assumed dave was exaggerating like dave always does.

here's another thing to notice: dave strider is used to being watched. he's paranoid about it, trying to read from every tiny clue in his life what will happen next and coming up blank. so when there's an extra pair of eyes he notices after a few hours, and he doesn't like the feeling. he picks himself up off the roof and ignores a broken wrist and too many cuts to count and probably a few cracked ribs in order to lean over the edge of the railing, eyes scanning surrounding buildings with a tense little frown.

it's pointless to tell bro. it might be bro. is he supposed to confront the change or ignore it? it's impossible to tell when bro wants him to roll with something or dig his heels in, and if he can't figure it out quick before the inscrutable time limit runs out, bro will probably be disappointed. and also maybe mad? it's hard to tell if bro ever gets mad or anything else at all, but dave would like to avoid that eventuality and measure up, so...

so.

right.

he can't spot who might be watching him but he didn't expect to. he can never spot bro in the apartment, either. so maybe he needs to change the location? maybe this is counter-surveillance training. it's not the usual so it has to be something else, after all. he's too tired to think it through but that doesn't really matter because there's probably a time limit and he shouldn't be too tired for it so he can't be.

the next day dave will completely disregard his usual daily schedule and leave the apartment. his injuries are taken care of even if he's oddly careful about his wrist, a makeshift brace involving a wrist watch making it casual. dave can always make his walk seem easy and relaxed no matter what he's hiding. he doesn't go to any of his usual locations. instead he goes to the movie theater, wastes precious grocery money on a ticket for a random action movie, and immediately ditches through an emergency exit in the theater once he's zipped in.

he loiters around out of sight to see if he can catch anyone coming out after him.

there are a dozen other little trips and traps like that planned if his simple first-ditch effort doesn't work as he zigzags around the city with absolutely no gameplan, testing the waters to see what comes up. there's no possibility of waiting for probably-bro to explain himself, because bro doesn't do explanations. so. time to figure out the rules as best he can and hope it's what he's supposed to be doing.

the lack of any ominous texts to his phone is either encouraging or terrifying. dave can't be fucked to figure out which it is, exactly. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

On the Gulf of Mexico. I'm pretty local. [He puts a folded section for pressure, then uses the strips to wrap it up.] A gull wouldn't be out of order. Usually I get told I'm more like a cat.

[ dave is a remarkably good patient if you have the good fortune to have gotten him to agree to be a patient to start with. he holds himself still and tries not to give away any sign of pain or discomfort. ]

The feral kind or like a housecat? Can't see much in the way of a housecat I guess. Well, no - a little bit.

[ how he was with jane. ]

A little bit.

[Dave??? What part of him is like a housecat. WTF?

When Dirk has him enough, he draws back and tugs the hoodie back down. Dave's too short (tall for his age and his eating habits, but not a full grown man's height) to support shoulder to shoulder, so he offers his arm.] Grip onto my arm and I'll pull you up. I put in the call for the cab while I was downstairs so you won't have to wait too long. It's just under ten minutes as a drive.

[Ten minutes, Dirk hopes, is not too long for Dave. He knows the kid will tough through but Dirk needs him to be okay. Ten minutes is a long time and Dirk hates that he has to keep him moving, he'd rather just treat him in the apartment, but so it goes.]

Also, a big cat.

[ dave does as requested, gritting his teeth and pretending he doesn't have to hold on as tight as he does and that he doesn't stumble a bit as he gets to his feet. dirk has probably seen him at his worst via other strife watching antics but dave can't help but try to play it off at least enough so he's not sounding as though he's in pain while he's, you know, in pain. ]

I think you're over estimatin' yourself here, dude. You're definitely on second thought one of those adopted house cats who used to be feral and they still like to pretend they kind of are but they'll wrap around the heels of the people they like and they expect their meals when they want them.

[ he's not even sure what he's arguing about here but this seems as good a stance as any to take ]

I am not. I'm a goddamned puma.

[Dirk doesn't particularly care what he's saying; he just wants to keep Dave talking. He uses his other hand to steady Dave and guides him over to the elevator, careful; if Dave seems to wobble, he'll try to steady him. He hits the elevator button and then slams on the shut-the-door button because that is what one does when one is in a panicked hurry. Then he pulls them back against a wall, so Dave can have the railing for support as well as Dirk. He's watching the kid's head carefully; he'll move to stop a bump before it can happen.

He really wishes the kid would let him send him to a hospital. What is he going to do if it's internal bleeding?]

Tabby. With a bell on a collar.

[ look...dave isn't even sure he has hospital records. like, hypothetically? he probably does? but he's never been to the hospital in memory and is pretty sure going would raise too many red flags to count.

he slouches forward when he leans against the railing, not eager to slam his head against something else. dirk kind of did have to steady him once or twice getting there but at least dave wasn't smacking him away or anything? he's accepting the help. ]

You look offended whenever the bell makes any noise.

[ he continues to share his dirk as a cat headcanons as they wait to go down. ]

Who the Hell put a bell on me?

[He's clearly deeply offended by the bell, Dave is correct.

He gets him out the front door to the waiting cab. Dirk is careful ducking Dave's head under the car to make sure there are no bumps, and he takes the middle seat so he can be beside Dave. He tells the cab driver to please drive very carefully; his brother is recovering from a concussion.

He's not sure it's an okay lie to make in Dave's books but it feels like the safest one. As it is he's already torching his apartment by doing this; he never takes cabs there, ever, so after Dave is recovered he's going to have to get a new place.

Maybe he'll pick somewhere they allow cats.]

Your friends. So they could tell when you were gonna pop out of nowhere.

[ okay, see, if dave knew dirk was MOVING PLACES ENTIRELY JUST BECAUSE OF THIS he would. not have called dirk. so it's for the best he doesn't know? although maybe someday he will try to go back to the apartment, go "what the fuck", and decide dirk really doesn't like kids at his place?? who knows???

the lie gets him to tense but honestly it's not like there's many explanations for "i'm an adult taking this child somewhere and also he looks ill" that wouldn't raise flags. other family relations not brother, maybe, but arguing about it would rather negate the cover story. so. no arguing occurs.

he just focuses on not throwing up mostly. ]

Lalonde always notices. [...] Crocker would probably appreciate a bell.

[That's fair. Dirk also wants to keep Dave talking through the cab ride, preferably about nothing.

Also no, Dirk is going to tell Dave about his new apartment and casually mention they allow cats. So if Dave wanted a cat he could keep that cat at Dirk's place and visit it whenever? This is his new plan. His plan is to kidnap Dave by promising him a kitten.

He has come up with a lot of plans about how to kidnap Dave. Save him from a concussion was not in those plans.]

[ it's true this is the closest he has ever gotten? to kidnapping the kid? how long until jane has an aneurysm. or...jake or roxy, for that matter. although they probably still don't know unless and until they're tracking dirk, since dave's main injuries here were accidentally self inflicted.

like. the cut aside.

the concussion is his fault!

via...blood from the cut, but whatever. ]

You're hard not to notice. I don't know what it was that gave it away the first time though. [ just...a different atmosphere. someone watching. he's so familiar with the feeling. ]

I told you. You have good intuition. [His Bro's shitty abuse is not what Dirk would call training but it did teach Dave. It just taught him cruelly, it did more damage than it did help. What did the kid even need training for? He's thirteen, with a wealthy brother, living in Houston. He shouldn't need to handle himself like this.]

Not good enough. You got away with it for a little while, right? [ and bro always catches him off guard. shit, he should have been able to dodge the blade earlier? and he shouldn't have relaxed even a hair after bro hadn't been around for a solid week.

shit. what had he been doing before the strife? ]

Oh no. [ no shit okay this can still be saved. dave jostles himself - stupid idea - and grabs for his phone, eyes still not quite focusing even as he signs himself into pesterchum.

goddamn rose's purple prose is hard to read right now, but there's more of it than there was the last time he looked. dave isn't sure if he wants to be able to read it or not. ]

Incredibly good for a teenager not livin' in a literal warzone. [Just a facsimile of a warzone. Dirk sees Dave move and he gently reaches out to put his hand over the phone.] Not while you're in the car. You're just gonna make the injury harder to recover from. You can tell her you were watchin' something with your Bro.

I never walk away from shit without tellin' them about it in great detail. Or at least a brb. [ he usually gets those out before he gets his ass kicked? but unless he's asleep he always responds to his friends within a few seconds. and he'd been chatting with rose just before bro's entire Everything.

what had he said? he hadn't really had much warning and so he's pretty sure he gave rose...zero warning. ]

Just seven more minutes, until you're layin' down and I can start takin' care of the rest. [He pulls his hand away from the phone, but he keeps looking at Dave.] Please.

[ the "please" is compelling, but moreso is the part where he can't focus long enough to read what rose is saying and if he can't do that he's not going to be able to play off any concerns she might have.

right.

it's believable that bro would, like, take him to another room to watch something and wouldn't have given him time to heads up rose, right? like. a family thing. not anything she'd worry about. maybe dave should acknowledge that he never gives the others full updates on his day to day activities, aside from occasional anecdotes that never seem to worry them, but he's not sure he can. so. ]

...Okay.

[Dirk relaxes when Dave agrees.]

Why am I a tabby? [Important question. ...Wait.] What kind of cat are you?

First breed to come to mind. [ the second question, though. uh.

dave picks completely at random: ] Egyptian Mau.

[Dirk doesn't know his cat breeds that well. He pauses.] Those aren't the bald ones that look like they have microchip heads. Are they?

Nah, the naked pink bald ones are sphinx cats. Kinda think they miss the point of the entire animal, too?

Do you know how they even happen? [He is trying to keep Dave talking but hey why not learn about cats.]

Selective breedin' from the 1960s. Which is. Sure a choice people made? I'm never sure what I think of that shit.

[ breeding animals. selectively. ]

What bothers you in particular? The weird eugenics undertones or not letting the cats decide who they want to fuck on their own?

Which I suppose is related to the eugenics undertones.

Both I guess? But like. It's one thing to breed a species in order to like...save it from extinction or whatever. It's another thing to breed it to change it entirely, just 'cause.

It's a pretty weird thing. It's also foundational to civilization if you include selective breeding of crops.

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