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

My team of miscreants trusts me when I tell them I'm settled on a decision.

That is to say, they know I'm obnoxiously stubborn about shit.

But do they have differin' opinions on your decisions?

All the goddamned time. In this particular case, though, English and Lalonde agree that we can't force you to do things you don't want to. [a pause] Crocker still doesn't know, and probably shouldn't. She might agree that you have a right to autonomy, but she'd be pretty adamant that your brother is breaking the law and therefore needs to be brought in. [JANE. LOVES THE LAW. and cookies.] Did you eat her cookies, by the way? She'll love any feedback.

A week or so ago. [ SO. THEY WERE PROBABLY STALE BY THEN? he rations his food ok ] Am I allowed to go to sleep?

[That's sad.] I have some fresh cake from her. You should try it later.

[Dirk checks his phone for the time.] Possibly. Any dizziness or confusion? [Dave's been articulating pretty well for a while now.]

My eyes still hurt. [ he means: he still has some blurred vision focus issues. he's...confused but isn't sure that's related to the whole. injury thing. ] Egbert hates cake.

[ that statement is related because cake was mentioned. ]

Then he would not like Jane during birthdays. [He holds up a finger.] Follow it for me? [Lalala standard test. Even in the semi-darkness, Dirk is pretty sure he can make out the focus on the pupils.]

[ dave tries. it's a better attempt than last time but still not superb. ]

He already has enough birthday woes with his dad. He got - uh, what was the count. Twenty? Upwards of twenty? Cakes last year.

That is a ridiculous number of cakes. [Wow.] Also, sorry, dude. You're going to need to stay awake for a little longer. You're mostly good, but the pupils are still worryin' me. Best to make sure you're good.

When you do sleep, I'll have to wake you up a few times to make sure you haven't lost consciousness. Is that okay? [He knows that Dave wakes far too easily, but he wants to ask for that permission.]

[ half a shrug. dave raises one shoulder and lets it drop. ]

That's a concussion thing, right? [ standard procedure, he means. so. ] It's fine.

[ ... ]

Would your cop friend approve of me sleepin' at your apartment when you're a professional stalking meddler?

She'd want me to inform your guardian. [So.]

Do you ever talk to them again after? [ and we're back to random topic flips. ]

[...]

Crocker and Lalonde and English? We do movies and shit sometimes. English has garbage taste though. Me and Lalonde do video games.

[nope he missed it.]

The numbers. Do you check up on them or just disappear or what?

[Oh. Different question.]

I'll check up on some. Don't give any my contact numbers, usually. People are... [A pause. Then a noise that's kinda like a laugh.] You're gonna call me out on the cliche bullshit. But when the government wants you dead, and every record about you says you already are, it's pretty hard to keep in contact with anyone without risking their safety or my capture.

Me and Lalonde and English are all in this because there's no one who'd miss us. Crocker would be better off out, she has family, but she refuses.

I'd let you keep my contact info if you wanted it. We change numbers and houses often enough but I could keep you updated.

[He isn't sure why he offered it. He did, though.]

...No.

[ dave doesn't want a lifeline. or at least not a lifeline he can't count on. someone halfway in and out of his life who showed up just to do whatever and then mostly-vanish. is it better or worse that there'd be some kind of contact, that it's an offer "if you wanted", that dirk's admitted he never really keeps contact in general?

right. rose. what rose had said earlier -

no. ]

Why haven't you changed the number you got now yet?

[Is that because he is a creepy stalker or because an abused kid is nervous about having any possible help? Dirk isn't sure. He'll decide later.]

It hasn't been that long. Do you... [Shit. Try not to mess this up.]

I was thinkin' if I adopted a cat, you could help me look after it.

[Nope there he goes.]

[ wow dirk that was a stunning and graceful offer and dave attempts to roll up to his feet, kind of dropping the glass of water in the process and. that was stupid why did he stand up that fast he's going to trip this was a graceful refusal of dirk's graceful offer ]

[Dirk catches the glass and also Dave.]

Sorry. Forget that. Dumbass thought. You need to stay sittin', dude.

[ ok but dave is going to try to tug away even though this is IDIOTIC ]

I need to go home. [ how. does he plan to get back there when standing is currently a dumb plan. don't knock his new life goal, meta text. ] You can't -

[ he has no idea what dirk can't but it mostly relates to saying things like that. some half measure of the stupid mundane fairy tales dave used to tell himself, maybe some placation for a kid who's a roadblock to dirk's saviour gig. ]

[Nope Dirk's making him sit back down and stay there.] Please. It was a dumb idea, just—please, stay. Go home when you can walk but not before it. I'm beggin' you, Dave, don't go until you can walk right.

[ ok for the record it sucks being thirteen and skinny and like concussed because there's no way he is going to be able to successfully un-seat himself if dirk is keeping him there? ]

You can't say shit like that! [ cue semi hysterical response given in an even if slightly raised tone ]

I won't—I'm sorry, I won't. I promise. Please, Dave, stay. You'll get hurt if you leave like this.

[YEAH YOU NAILED THAT ONE STRIDER why is dirk a fuck up]

[ somewhere roxy lalonde puts down a glass and senses through the force dirk just did something really stupid and no one was there to stop him, probably.

also is dirk like keeping him in place with a hand on his shoulder or what here ]

You can't say things you don't mean to people, not things like that, it's not fair.

[ in the meantime he will continue

having a fit about this or whatever ]

[Roxy, eating a Jane cookie: I think Dirk fucked up and I wasn't there.
Jane: Wow what a surprise.

Dirk's stopping Dave with a hand on his chest where he knows a cut isn't, but he will let go when he thinks Dave isn't going to leap to a second concussion.]

I don't say things I don't mean to people. [Like. Well.] Okay, I do when I'm undercover, and I've been known to employ irony in conversation. But I don't not mean shit like this. I don't do this kind of thing half-hearted.

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