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Heyyyyyyyyy, you know who you've got, babe. Say what you've gotta say.

[A long pause.

Shuffling.

Cloth.

Clatter.

Another long pause.

The actual cacophony of Finch's dorm.

And if you haven't hung up YET:]

Saints! Is this still o-?

[BEEEEEEEEEP.]

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[There's a sneaky sort of curiosity.]

Was he.. in one? Tell me he was in one. So much would make so much more sense.

Think he might've been.

Or -- his family was.

... [That's a stomach drop]

Oh.

Yeah.

[Concern, low and thick and heavy]

Anyway -- I better not say nothing else.

Yeah. I mean, I'll ask him and then just sit and be confused and slightly alarmed by the answers.

[That concern hasn't abated; it's a little tangled, a low knot somewhere down deep]

Don't -- push too hard, yeah? If he don't want to say nothing.

It's Finch. We DON'T ... usually at all.

That sort of a thing, huh?

I think everyone's a bit of a minefield in their own way. Except me, of course.

Sorry, chief. Your mines are just painted bright orange and yellow.

... Why orange and yellow, outside of great colors for my skin tone.

Note: This is not me accepting what you just said as remotely possible.

You flash em up some, so no one sees they're mines.

...

[It's realization, some embarrassment, and some guilt. Also some weird fondness at that and relief. There's something in getting called on it.]

...........

SO! Lets see what we can do with this, shall we?

Right. No better way to tell than trying.

Edited 2023-02-24 01:48 (UTC)

Right-

- Is this the time to warn you I am NOT actually good at my own - you know, the stuff.

You ain't going to make a hole in me or nothing, are ya?

HAS THAT HAPPENED?

I am STRICTLY non hole making!

We're comboing up, bo.

Who says you and me ain't going to make a hole in nothing.

-- but let's give this a go.

RIGHT, lets aim this away from us?!

Best way to aim the parts that might do something screwy.

[But that sense of nothing uncoils from inside of him -- extends outward, like an offer]

[He reaches out in turn. It's a different feeling. Smells a bit like the ground after a fresh rain, it's potential, it's the grounding of lightning, it .. twines not perfectly...

But easily enough.

The sense of potential grows.]

Oh, there we go.

[He shifts, a little. There's a sense of guiding that potential out away from them, toward something else -- letting it run ahead of them a little, to where it tends to veer]

[Jesper tries to let go of his own controls-

And for a moment, Eddie can see what he does, the pillow they're both laying on, how the structure of it seems to unfold into fibers, and then dyes and then down to compounds and molecules--]

Well I'll be.

[He sounds faintly awed -- feels faintly awed, a dawning sense of wonder washing through the both of them]

[Eddie reaches out toward the pillow; that sense of being flickers, there along the edges, fading out until those fibers are partly there and partly not, somehow both at once]

Saints. Is that?

[It FEELS like part of it's just not there, but is. He presses on the bridge of his nose with his free hand.]

... Think... we could make patterns with this?

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