TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

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[greatoldjohn]

John leans into the opening door only long enough to rock back and up onto his feet. Then he's walking in, closing the door behind him, and taking a look around. He's not sure what he expected but this was

20% ish. Definitely not 0%.

"Okay. So."

He's going to glance over at the cat food to see if it looks like she's been fed recently.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Aylin has food, water and clean litter. Astarion is of the opinion that she didn't ask to have his ownership inflicted on her, but he also doesn't trust anyone else to do a better job.

Also, he likes cats.

Fuck off.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, without moving.

[greatoldjohn]

"You haven't moved out of this room for two days," he says with a raised eyebrow. "And..."

He's just going to spread his hands.

"I'm going to assume this is you. So. What happened?"

He's not stupid enough to ask 'are you okay?' because the answer is 'obviously not' and Astarion would probably say 'fine' and then he'd want to shake him. Not productive.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion laughs harshly into the pillow.

"Two days? That's enough to worry you? Gods - wait, how often do you check where I am?"

Ugh. If he saw he went from someone else's cabin directly to here, he might have already worked some things out. It occurs to him that he never even asked if the two Johns knew each other.

[greatoldjohn]

"One day is enough to worry me," he says, easily enough, "two days means I actually come and check and hazard your wrath."

He'll sit on the floor near the bed.

"And I check whenever I feel like I should. Depends on the circumstances." A soft huff. "I'm not trying to stalk you, Astarion. I just want to make sure you're all right."

The obvious point being 'he is not all right'.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I see. Well, I'm sure you can read the room, darling."

He waves a hand vaguely at the mess.

"I'll be fine."

[greatoldjohn]

I'm sorry, what.

"Yeah," he says with a very sarcastic tone, "I can read the room. And you aren't even in the same country as 'fine'."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion groans quietly.

"That's why I said I will be fine. In the future. Do we need to have a talk about tenses?"

[greatoldjohn]

"Do we have to have a talk about how I am not just leaving you to 'be fine' at some nimbus date in the future? How about a talk about what the fuck happened that this happened?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

A low noise of laughter sounds from the bed.

"Just a conversation! That's all. This is all very dramatic and unnecessary, you'll agree," another little flick of his fingers to illustrate 'this'.

[greatoldjohn]

He's going to push himself up and walk over fully to look down at Astarion, consternation and concern clear on his face.

"You're hurting. Something or someone hurt you. And if they hurt you enough that you did this, it's apparently necessary, no matter how 'dramatic' it might be."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh, this isn't necessary. This is pathetic."

He's aware of John standing up (and Aylin definitely is, he can feel her moving around because something has her attention), but doesn't shift even the smallest bit himself.

[greatoldjohn]

"Okay. So why are you doing something you think is pathetic?"

He's going to put a hand out for Aylin to play with her. She's a good girl.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I don't really care to do anything else right now. So. Here we are."

Pathetic or otherwise, it's what's happening!

[greatoldjohn]

"And is there anything that would make you feel better?" he asks as he keeps playing with the cat.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"The passage of time. Feelings are impermanent, I've heard."

He doesn't really know what therapy is or what Sheehan's whole deal is, but he still saw his strange visual metaphor on the network.

[greatoldjohn]

He's just going to listen to that and frown down at him.

"...yeah, that doesn't work the way you're trying to use that."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I don't see why it wouldn't. At the very least, I assume that eventually I'll get tired of lying here."

Probably!

"Particularly since the cause of my behaviour is no longer with us."

[greatoldjohn]

"Or you won't, just to spite me," he says with a wry kind of fondness. "Is the talking around it part of the 'pathetic' or do I get to ask who, or what, you're talking about?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion stares at the pillow in front of him for several seconds.

"John Gaius."

[greatoldjohn]

John nods, and then after a minute, he'll walk around until he can sit on the side of the bed without crowding him.

"And what did John Gaius do to you?" A pause. "Or what did you do to him?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

Another stretch of silence, then, dully:

"You really don't know when to stop fucking talking, do you."

[greatoldjohn]

He's just going to continue to look expectantly at Astarion. Fine. No talking. The requirements for getting anything done changed again. Sure. Cool. He's listening.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion does not look back.

"Oh, and now you're pouting because I don't like being asked how I brought this on myself? Just get out."

[greatoldjohn]

"I'm not pouting. You said shut up. I shut up. I didn't say you 'brought this on yourself'. I asked specifically so you wouldn't just talk around me." He shakes his head. "I'm not leaving. That makes me an asshole. Fine. What happened?"