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

Things like you like things I do, or I did a nice job, or I'm endearin' or whatever.

[ time to see where dirk lives. WHAT'S INSIDE HE'S ACTUALLY CURIOUS ]

I say things when they're things I believe. Like normal people do.

[If Dave manages a spot-check despite his concussion, he will find.... a more boring apartment than canon Dirk's, by far. It's a really nice place, English sprang for him, with a good kitchen, an open living space, and a bed. But it feels weirdly unlived in, like Dirk is careful not to risk inhabiting the space too much. It has all the surface details of someone living there, the things a normal person would check for, but everything has been meticulously managed so that if someone did come here they wouldn't really see who he was. Perhaps the only thing signifying a personality is the mixing table and speakers he has, although the headphones indicates he never actually blasts the music properly.

The lack of personality changes a little when Dirk gets Dave on the couch and props a pillow up for him to rest on. He goes to his closet and pulls out a box, but more of interest is what is in other boxes: most of them all labelled with specific numbers or kinds of waveforms. The box Dirk grabs for dave is one of the few that isn't, it just has a red cross. Everything about who Dirk actually is, all of his personality and interests, is hidden in the other boxes.

Dirk's focus is on addressing the injuries.]

We're going to clean out and stitch the head wound first. Then the stomach wound.

[ he doesn't make as good a spot check as he'd like. the boxes are hard to see right, but he can see symbols and numbers on them, and connects the red cross to first aid without missing a beat.

he'll kind of. just. okay he can't lean his head back against the couch but he can kind of lean on the armrest with the side that isn't cut up? and that pillow. that is a thing he can do. ]

Yay. [ he doesn't ask for painkillers or anything because he typically does not have them when stitching himself up or anything. so. ]

[Dirk would offer them but with a head injury and deep bleeding, he doesn't want anything that could make things worse, especially anything that might thin the blood. He tilts Dave's head and, very carefully, starts cleaning it up with a sterile pad.

His needlework is really good. Boy could make some high quality smuppets if it came to it.]

I'm going to close the shutters so it'll be a little darker in here after the stitching is done. I can set you up on a laptop so you have a larger screen work with it, and we can convert it so it shows colouring that will be easier on your eyes. I'd prefer it if you tried to avoid anything that requires eye concentration for a while. I'll stay with you and watch you for developing symptoms. Have you eaten yet today?

[ it's pretty much fine. dave is maybe going to choose to bite the pillow rather than his own hand on tongue or lips, but hey. he doesn't even really have to do that except maybe once - he is way too used to the sensation of a needle threading his skin back together. ]

I just need to get Rose to chill. [ then he can...listen to music? he has his phone, and his earbuds are probably in his pocket still. or watch a movie or something but dave is hesitant to suggest anything that would soak up more of dirk's time. ] You don't, uh, have to stay. I mean. I can go back home after you stitch me up?

[ that's a stupid idea and he doesn't even want to go back home? ]

[He feels bad at Dave expressing pain but he has done this too many times on the field to let it distract him. Even if Dave is a kid.]

I would really, really prefer it if you didn't go home. You can introduce me to some better artists or somethin'.

[The head is done; Dirk leans Dave back very carefully, so that the wound doesn't have any pressure added to it. He moves down to the floor so he can clean and stitch the stomach wound.]

I'll try to guess your superior cat name.

[ luckily he doesn't have to feel too bad. it only gets bad enough dave bites something at like one point; he otherwise holds supernaturally still, for a thirteen year old kid. ]

You can't do that, you might steal it if you get it. [ macklemeow lives only in dave's dreams! ] I can share some of my music with you though.

[ he completely skipped the "when did you last eat" question mostly because dave hasn't eaten in like, over a day. ]

I'll only steal it if I get a cat. [And he'll only get a cat to kidnap Dave, so really it's a good cause.] Music sounds good. You didn't answer my question about food, but I'll give you a pass for the probably concussion. What about water?

My hypothetical cat names are reserved for my hypothetical cats. [ who will PROBABLY NEVER EXIST regardless of pet rules at his apartment. ] I had water a few hours ago. Before Bro got home? I had some juice, too.

Okay. When we're done, I'd like you to have some more. Do you think you can stomach it?

[Blood loss = body needs water to create more. Also, hydration is very rarely a bad idea.]

Yeah. [ water is easy to accept. granted, he might not turn down food at some point either if only because there is a certain Lack of it at home right now. he ran through his stockpile and needs to restock? ] Need to, anyway.

[ he's...had blood loss a lot ok ]

You don't have other stuff to do?

Edited 2017-03-13 03:11 (UTC)

Nothin' on the agenda. [And if English sends him a call, he'll tell him to reroute it to Lalonde. Dirk, as far as he's concerned, is doing his goddamned job by helping Dave. Saving lives is why he took this job in the first place.

He finishes up the stitches and then cleans up the wound one last time.] Are there any other wounds? Scrapes, minor cuts. Anythin' that needs cleanin' out. It would be kinda not cool if you managed to die of an infection.

Edited (how do we both keep doing this) 2017-03-13 03:14 (UTC)

[ dirk get another of those measured glances before dave just pulls off his hoodie and shirt entirely. any cuts he has are, mostly, up top for the moment. he's pretty sure his knees didn't get skinned when he slipped, he'd feel that. after another second he takes off his shades (he managed to keep them on through the other removal through talent) so dirk can get at his black eye and a cut near his left eyebrow if he really wants. ]

Bro's swords and shit are all really well taken care of.

[ dave is the one with shitty weaponry?

also i guess i should mention he's pretty obviously too skinny and there are a bunch of, you know, cuts and scrapes from sword shit. some of the stuff is older scars, some of it is healing over scabs, but there are new things. oops. ]

Edited 2017-03-13 03:19 (UTC)

[Yeah. Well-taken care of weapons, and a neglected and abused brother. Dirk has to tamp down on his anger.]

Debris and dirt gets into weaponry in the course of a fight; you know that.

[Dirk starts with the largest wounds. These ones don't need stitches, so it's either a bandage or medical grade superglue after he cleans them out. He's precise and professional always; he has seen too much of this kind of thing not to be.]

[ the worst part is probably how nothing dave is given to fight with stands a shot in hell against bro's sword. too many of his own have broken under pressure. at every turn, he isn't given a single opportunity to succeed.

dave's holding himself still. his eyes, unshaded, flicker around but don't quite focus on anything, least of all dirk. this continues to be the first time he's ever allowed anyone to patch him up, and it's taking most of his concentration not to yank himself back. ]

I clean 'em. [ his wounds, he means. and most of his scars look like they healed okay. only the oldest ones are less-so, before dave learned his way around first aid. ]

You're really good at it. The newest injuries, after these, look like they'll heal nicely.

[If they aren't opened up again. If they aren't deliberately fucked with. There are a few injuries that Dirk is pretty sure were healing right and then got torn open and wrecked.]

[ another compliment. dave is still not sure how to handle them, but at least he has stopped freezing at every one. or he doesn't freeze at this one?

he's starting to become uncertain as to whether or not dirk actually has an angle. ]

I might have a week for 'em to heal, or more. Or a few hours or a day.

[ an Uncertain timeframe. ]

Do you expect your brother back tonight?

[Okay, that's the last of the injuries patched up. His next move is to go to get Dave a glass of cold water. He offers it to Dave but he's hovering; if Dave's at risk of slipping, he'll make sure that the glass doesn't fall. He is trying to strike the balance between respecting a jittery kid's autonomy and keeping him safe.]

I don't think so?

[ uncertain and unwilling to be firm because dave simply does not know. he doesn't even know where bro goes - ]

Where does he go? [ he'll take the water with both hands. that's...a little easier to grip, though he lowers the glass and balances it on his leg, not taking a sip yet. ] When he's not home, where does he go?

We never tracked him. You were our priority for that case, and you asked us to cancel it before we could move on to considering surveillance on him an option.

The Machine knows, but she's never flagged him as a number for us. and he hasn't ever come up in any cases other than yours.

[ he...kind of really wants to know, but also, dave isn't sure he wants to ask. for one thing, bro would notice surveillance even faster than dave had. for another, does it even matter? whatever it is has always mattered more in the long run.

dave...

takes a sip of his water, actually. it's cold. that's nice. ]

"She".

Lalonde calls the Machine a 'she.' If that's the gender identity that our AI overlord has expressed to her biggest fan, then who am I to question it? I say let it use Roxy's bathrooms too.

[Dave drinking is good! Dirk approves of Dave drinking. Now that he's pretty sure the drink is stable, he goes to shutter the blinds so that it isn't quite as bright in here. He's quick to get back to Dave's side in case a spell of dizziness occurs.]

[ well, okay then, if roxy lalonde says so who is dave to argue.

he starts to slouch back into the couch, careful to just kind of. gently rest his head, tilted, on the pillow. it's easier than trying to hold himself upright the entire way.

lalonde triggers something, but he's wandered too far away mentally to fully go "right, rose". instead, dave takes another sip of the water. ]

...I owe you one.

[ for...whatever this is? even though it had mostly been a call to make sure he wouldn't die on his bathroom floor. ]

Apparently not enough of one to tell me the name you'd give a cat.

[That's gently teasing. Dave's still drinking the water, so Dirk's good for now. He'll let him wait a bit before he tries to bring food.]

Technically, we never saved your number. This could be billed to English as working hours.

I didn't die. [ when his number came up, he meant. and yet he'd wanted to know if his number was up while on the bathroom floor trying to breathe right? because if it hadn't, he was fine. and if it had...

well, he'd manage to spite the number system, or something.

or maybe he'd just called because he actually needed help? it is a thought that shouldn't be disquieting, but is. ]

Bro doesn't get all...passionate aggressive or whatever your perpetrators do.

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