Smol August Catch-All - Closed and OTA

[inlieuofadad]

Who: Gil Arroyo and YOOOOU and Malcolm and Tim and Meredith, if you want to do something specific/different feel free to just throw it at me or PM me. (I'm not on plurk that much these days.)
When: Shortly after the kelpies, up until the events of the TDM shhh shhh I'm not the slowest ever.
Where: AROUND. Town, ADI apartments, etc.
Summary: Gil does his first real Poking About, finds a possible dive bar to make a Regular Spot, and looks in on his son Malcolm and his roommates. ...A few times.
Warnings: Alcohol, mild PTSD, mentions of stabby injuries.


IA - Closed to Apartment B1

He promised. Gil reminds himself that several times over on his way to Malcolm's place. He promised, after he got discharged from the infirmary he'd spend at least one night on Malcolm's couch. His apartment's couch. Whichever.

Gil sighs when he arrives, knocking on the door rather than using the key Malcolm already gave him. It would be rude to just walk in when he hasn't even met Malcolm's roommates. He has a small overnight bag in one hand, a pillow under one arm, and a light blanket in a tote bag.

And a resigned look on his face.

IB - Closed to Apartment B1

Well. Now that he knows (that he knows) Malcolm's roommates, he's a little more secure in inviting himself over. Which he does fairly often to poke his head inside and see how Malcolm is doing if he hasn't seen him elsewhere that day. And then there are days like today, when he brings dinner with him. Enough for everyone, but specifically tailored toward Malcolm "Most Food Makes Me Sick" Bright.

IC - Closed to Apartment B1

Gil showed up very early this time. He had a bad night. He figured at the very least Malcolm would be up.

He's making himself useful--and comfortable--cooking breakfast for The Kids. Plain scrambled eggs for Malcolm, and a fairly elaborate display of pancakes, bacon, French toast, and--is that the makings for avocado toast. It is.

Look, he's old, but he's also a widower who spends most of his day around millennials.


II. Pratty's C.A.V., a Gloucester institution - OTA

Gil has decided to take in some of the local color for a night. It doesn't look promising on the outside, with its neon-lined windows and cheap signage. It keeps the lack of promises on the inside. Gil has been to plenty of New York dives over the years, and the energy in this place is completely different. More languid. More suspicious, less aggressive. Regardless, even with his discount wardrobe, Gil stands out.

He shakes his head and steps up to take a spot at the bar, ordering himself a scotch--not top shelf, not bottom--to nurse while he takes in the clientele. His mind wanders eventually, back to the kelpies, the knife in his gut, and past that to bleeding on Nicholas Endicott's floor. The two incidents have tangled themselves up annoyingly in his mind.

He should probably have another couple of drinks before sorting them out.



III. Bonnie's Flophouse and surrounding neighborhood - OTA

He's heard about this place, met a couple of people who mentioned living here. Curiosity was going to lead him to it eventually. Unsurprisingly, the term flophouse is indeed accurate. He doesn't stay long, but he's clearly an outsider to the space, and he's just as clearly marking the faces he sees there.

Walking back toward the ADI apartments from the flophouse, Gil slows to a stop in the face of three young goons who clearly think they're looking at an easy target. One of them flips a knife open, and Gil's eyes are drawn to it for a moment, a twitch of irritation (anger) and nerves (fear) biting through him before he's entirely calm again.

"Evening," he says dryly. "I'm guessing the fact that I don't have anything worth stealing doesn't matter that much to you guys."

Comments

III - The Cavalry is here - CW: severed body parts, fear feeding

[guildmastermind]

"Hey!" A voice from down the street, sharp and loud. Streetlights gleam on a tall figure in a dark turtleneck, his eyes not quite visible because of how the light glints off his glasses. It's an awfully menacing look, made all the worse when he reaches into his bag for something, but what he comes out with is a whole severed hand.

...well, that wasn't what he'd been reaching for. Damned curse, making his nice magic bag occasionally full of gruesome surprises. Still, this might be useful, somehow.

"Unless you want to wind up like this, it's time to go. I've got traps all over this part of town for the foolish and brutish. You don't want to be here to experience them yourself." He tosses the hand lightly so it lands at the feet of the thug with the knife.

[inlieuofadad]

Unfortunately for Shiroe, from Gil's perspective, he just added a plus one to the adversarial numbers. The new guy clearly isn't with these kids, but Gil has never been a big believer in the whole 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' thing.

His hand goes to his gun when the severed hand lands that close, and Gil squares off more firmly with the stranger. He keeps the kids in his periphery just in case, but when he growls, "Go home. Now," at them, they actually run.

Gil puts himself squarely between the retreating would-be muggers and the body parts guy. Hand stays on his weapon, but he hasn't pulled it yet. "I don't suppose you have permits for those traps."

It is almost entirely a joke.

cw: spiders (no images, not attacking)

[guildmastermind]

"I don't actually have any traps--I was just trying to convince them to leave you alone." The severed hand pulses and dissolves into a swarm of spiders that skitter their way toward the shadows in a hurry. Shiroe seems as surprised by this as Gil likely is.

Regardless, he raises his now-empty hands to make it clear he's not a threat.

"Sometimes, my bag gives me things I didn't put in it, so I was improvising with that. Long story."

[inlieuofadad]

Gil nominally relaxes, at least letting his hand drop away from his weapon--and then the severed hand does that and he skips back a couple of steps, somehow more disgusted by the flood of spiders than the dismembered limb.

When the flood has ebbed, he looks at Shiroe, his look studying and curious, but not hostile. "I'll bet. Gil Arroyo. I take it you'd know what I mean if I said I'm really not from around here?"

[guildmastermind]

The fear of the spiders gives Shiroe one last jolt of fear-energy to feed him. He probably ought to be more apologetic about it, but as a technoghost, fear is more important to him than food.

"Quite well, in fact. I'm Shiroe. It's nice to meet you."

[inlieuofadad]

"Likewise." Though he sounds dubious when he says it. He approaches steadily, but cautiously, somehow making the slowness of his approach look like he's studying their surroundings instead of the man in front of him. To be fair, it's both.

The guy is weirder than the surroundings. "You staying at Bonnie's?"

He offers a handshake, then realizes (again) that maybe people don't do that where he's from.

[guildmastermind]

Shiroe accepts the offered hand, though, his grip non-confrontational. He doesn't make the handshake into something competitive, but it's also not entirely limp-fish hand either.

"Yeah, I've been there for a couple of weeks now. I haven't seen you there though--are you in ADI housing?"

IA

[henchgal]

The roommate who answers the door isn't Malcolm, unfortunately. Meredith, in a pair of plaid flannel pajama pants and an oversized sweater opens the door, cane in hand. "Gil. Here to borrow a cup of sugar?"

And then she notices what he's carrying, both eyebrows raising. "What's up?"

gonna assume he doesn't know who malcolm's roomies are yet if that works

[inlieuofadad]

Gil blinks. Looks at the apartment number to make sure he's in the right place. Looks back at Meredith.

"Looks like you share space with the kid who made me promise to come spend a night here when the infirmary turned me loose. Malcolm Bright?"

sounds good!

[henchgal]

Meredith lets out a soft, warm laugh.

"Yeah, you're at the right place to find Malcolm. Come on in. Want anything to drink?"

It sounds like the sort of thing he'd ask, just to make sure his people are okay.

[inlieuofadad]

"Sure, thanks." He walks in, inspecting their space carefully. It's no different than his own, really, but he's a curious man and a cop. He can't help it.

Gil lifts his overnight bag a little. "Mind if I put this next to the couch for the time being?"

[henchgal]

"Go ahead. Water, beer, milk--what would you prefer?"

There's a few things that might stand out, like the big soft blanket that lives on the couch already, or Malcolm's french press coffee maker. The shoes near the front door, in three different sizes and fashion senses. A couple of dishes in the sink from earlier today that no one's gotten to washing yet.

For a place with people thrown together, though, there's a sense of harmony about it; no signs of conflict between the residents, or of lines being drawn between people's stuff.

[inlieuofadad]

He plops his bag in the indicated space, glad to see that sense of camaraderie, or at least that there's no clear divisions. No clear signs that Malcolm has been singled out.

"Beer sounds great about now," he says, with just the slightest bit of irony. He gives her a careful, studying look--not invasive, more clearly concerned. "How you holding up?"

1C

[abrightboy]

Malcolm is, indeed, sitting in the kitchen with his hands wrapped around a cup of tea when Gil comes in, wide awake. He's taken his pills. He's done his yoga. He's reading a file from ADI. Some background. He looks up as the door opens, but his expression brightens when he sees that it's Gil.

He prefers the nights when Gil stays and he knows the veteran cop is safe, but he understands that maybe Gil would like some of his own actual personal space sometimes.

[inlieuofadad]

Malcolm's smile when he sees Gil makes the man smile in return. He can't help it. Happiness, such as it is, looks good on Malcolm's face.

"Hey kid. Figured I'd make myself useful and pay your roommates for my invasions with breakfast."

[abrightboy]

“They don’t mind,” Malcolm declares, having never asked them if they do, before taking a sip of tea. “What are you making?”

[inlieuofadad]

Gil purses his lips slightly to try and hide the smile at Malcolm's declaration. He's one hundred percent sure that Malcolm has not asked his roommates whether or not they mind. But they're all good kids, and he likes keeping an eye on them. He just tries to make sure it's not too much of an imposition.

"Figured I'd give you guys a spread to choose from, leftovers for later."

[abrightboy]

“Sure. The only thing better than food is lots of food,” Malcolm says with mock enthusiasm.

[inlieuofadad]

Gil gives him A Look. "All right, them guys."

He studies Malcolm for a moment. "How are you doing? They seem all right, your roommates."

1B in B1

[ployboy]

Right. So. Tim's polite company. For a while, Tim had even been downright hospitable. And then, inevitably, that energy had reduced itself to private nods and Heys and Make Yourself At Homes.

And then Tim, being himself, had begun to believe it. That the guy was 'at home'.

Like, yeah, you know, of course the man would want to make himself at home. It's a good thing. Mr. Arroyo had said he'd wanted to be where Malcolm was. That was cool, to have someone like that. And Malcolm practically needed Mr. Arroyo. And Tim's convinced Meredith, had she ever been given a choice, would have preferred the man who can actually cook and (at the very least) pretend to have his shit together.

So what if he's made himself scarce here and there during visits?

Not like he's been rude.

Work keeps him busy.

Recently back from the gym doesn't make for the most graceful greeting when Tim lets Mr. Arroyo in, flushed-faced and sweaty--

"Lieutenant. I didn't know you'd be coming over."

but damn that food smells good, and his stomach is a dirty traitor, growling like that.

[inlieuofadad]

"It's Gil," he says, tone dry in a way that suggests he knows that Tim won't listen, just like the other dozen times he hasn't.

"Bad time?" He raises his eyebrows. He's definitely noticed the way Tim closed up, then started avoiding him all together. He hasn't pushed it, hasn't wanted to make the kid more reticent, but he half-hopes Meredith and Malcolm aren't home at the moment. That Tim will be trapped as host, at least for a little while.

[ployboy]

Tim allows a light smirk in turn, this back-and-forth something of a routine between them now. It's the only routine between them that doesn't involve one of Tim's many outs. He steps aside and opens the door some more at raised brows-- "Malcolm said he'd be late and Meredith's out," he points out.

But yeah, come on it. He's not against it. He just wishes he had thrown on a hoodie or something over the sleeves tank he's wearing. The scars aren't plentiful. They're just here and there, and no one who frequents ADI's training facilities gives a hoot.

Tim glances fleetingly at the television playing on low. Today's background noise is a sportscast.

"I can message them if you want," he says, knowing full well Mr. Arroyo can work a smartphone himself. If he were so inclined.

[inlieuofadad]

Gil notes the scars without comment, for now. He sets the food out on the kitchen counter, a mix of mild, simple white meat dishes. And a couple that are probably the ones that Tim smelled--same meat, spiced up and a lot more likely to make Malcolm regret his life choices.

"That's all right," Gil drawls, raising his eyebrows at Tim. "Back from a training session?"

[ployboy]

"From working out," Tim clarifies, because training is what's done when he scouts the security cams of shops and stores and docks around town, when he lingers in the peripheral of some moored fishing boat learning the code to that back entrance of the processing warehouse. He closes the door behind Mr. Arroyo, fights and fails to hold back from following the man like a dog after the scraps.

Pavlov, or something.

Mr. Arroyo does share the food, so it's not entirely Tim being... presumptuous or overbold or whatever. Blue eyes study the man and Tim breaks, figuring it's better than waiting for his dignity to wane further. "Uh."

He's great at conversing with adults in imagined positions of power, honest. "Can I have some?"

[inlieuofadad]

Gil's lips pinch in that particular way that signals him holding back a smile, though not particularly well. "Sure."

He decides not to tease Tim about the fact that he brought it for B1's occupants. By now, he's very familiar with where the plates and cutlery are, but he still tilts his head and gives a little gesture at the cupboards, asking for permission to get them.

It's not his space, whether he has a Malcolm-gifted key or not.