acatalepsy_rpg | video, after the caverns

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video, after the caverns

So, correct me if I'm wrong about this.

[Hank doesn't bother with an intro, just starts right on in. The angle he's holding his wrist shows both his face and the stick he's dragging along the wall behind him, which has been in a fire at some point in the recent past and leaves a long black trail of ash over the wall as he walks.]

But when all you heroes trooped into the haunted caves under the mysterious freaky lake the communication plan was along the lines of, 'gee, if someone gets their feet ate off by some freaky bullshit I sure do hope they yell real loud so I can get there before they bleed out' right? I mean, I trust you guys know to make a post letting us all know if you need backup, but what if this- [Here the screen shakes as Hank wiggles his wrist, indicating the watch] -gets busted, or stolen, or whatever?

I don't know, I was just thinking, next time a bunch of us, or just anyone, goes into something that might get bad there should be some kind of post stuck to the top of our feed that we could all check, just something like this-

[He stops walking, still talking as he starts to scratch a little list in ash onto the wall beside him.]

Hey, I wonder how little Suzy's doing. Oh, she checked in an hour ago, she's probably fine.

[He writes Suzy on the wall, and a checkmark next to her name.]

How about JimBob the Murder Bot? Oh, he hasn't checked in for about seven hours, I should take someone to go look for him.

[Next to JimBob the Murder Bot he doodles a little skull. Sorry Jimbo, it's hard out there for a figurative probably-dead robot. Better luck next time.]

Or maybe you guys would rather do some kinda daily role call like in school or, hell, maybe it's just more fun to lone wolf your way through all this world saving shit, what do I know. Decide amongst yourselves. I might be around, I might not. Just thought I'd throw this out there. I'm gonna go eat.

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[Hank sighs, ends the call, and opens the door, leaning against the doorway. He rubs a hand over his face as he talks, his voice flat and tired.]

What's this 'unfortunately' shit, how bad d'you fuck yourself up down there?

[ Hank can see for himself— well, actually, he can't, because Minato comes wearing a conspicuously long sleeved shirt, pants, hands quickly sliding back into his pockets when the door opens and he doesn't need to hold his wrist up to his mouth anymore. ]

I'm fine, [ comes the immediate stock answer, and he turns the question back around. ]

You look exhausted. What happened up here...?

Well, we all figured we'd throw a real rager before you guys got back.

[Hank pauses a second, trying to think of some kind of clever punchline. His head still hurts; he sighs and gives up, pushing himself away from the door so Minato can follow him in. The only seat is the half of the bed Sumo's not stretched out on and Hank sees the empty bottle from last night as he heads back in - little fucker didn't call soon enough to give him time to clean up - so Hank just plops himself heavily onto the floor in front of the bottle, so Minato can take the mattress. It's about as subtle as Hank's capable of being right now.]

Come on, you can't just pull out a 'unfortunately, I survived' and then just clam up. This is the whole reason I wanted you here, come on, out with it. Which bodypart did you fuck up?

[ Minato shuffles through the door, but instead of taking a seat anywhere, he gingerly lowers himself into a crouch at the foot of the bead so he can lean his elbows on the mattress and hold his hand out for Sumo to sniff and say hi. He probably smells like fish and water, even after a quick bath and change of clothes.

"I'm fine," he wants to repeat again, but if he's just going to brush it off, what was even the point of coming here? ]

Mm... Everything? But it's not that bad- [ BACKPEDALS IMMEDIATELY ] I'm not bleeding out or anything. Just cuts and scratches and stuff. Things my body can heal on its own, even without magic.

Yeah?

[Hank watches him a second, looking assessing and tired, still, slumped over with his elbows on his knees.]

Sorry, kid. Don't know if I can trust you on that. What exactly happened down there?

Nothing happened, really... Just rough terrain.

[ He pulls a sleeve back up to the elbow- there are cuts all along his arms, long but shallow, sort of healing in that he's not bleeding, but still angry pink along the edges. ]

Oh- I have your souvenir. [ The sleeve gets rolled down before he sticks his hand in his pocket again, pulling out a clear bead- in the next second, it becomes a crystal shard, one end of it wrapped up in cloth. ]

[Hank watches it, then his face twists up in distaste.]

A magic souvenir from the freaky death caves. Wonderful. Kid...

[Then Hank looks back up at Minato's face, looking reluctant. After a moment he looks away.]

Okay. Whatever. Fuck. You planning on telling me what it does, or did you want to surprise me?

It's not magic. [ He thinks, anyways. He keeps it held out, too, until Hank looks back at it and takes it off his shaking hands. ]

You know how people pick from seashells from the beach, or stones from a creek, those sorts of souvenirs... That's what this is. I thought it looked pretty.

[ And it is, the way it shines, if you ignore what looks like blood stains on the edges that somebody- Minato, probably- didn't wipe off well enough. ]

[Unfortunately, Hank is a detective. It's unfortunate because he's been doing it so long that sometimes he can't turn it off - or sometimes he just doesn't want to turn it off, times like this, when instead of not noticing he stares for a second and then rolls forward onto his knees, like he's about to get up.

The first thing he detects is that if his little souvenir changing shape wasn't because of the object itself, it must of been because of Minato. He's honestly never thought about Minato having a power before - not that all of them don't, fuck if he doesn't know that better than he wants to.

The second set of things he notices, of course, kind of dwarf the first one. The way he's staring at Minato's shaking hands probably gives away what he's talking about, because he doesn't bother to explain.]

Christ, put that away. You'd better just be tired, or hungry, or something, if you're lying to me about being okay... swear to god, I don't have the patience for that shit right now.

[ He drops the shard back onto his lap, a little drown working its way onto his face for a moment before it relaxes into neutrality. His gift had been rejected, but that's fine; he can make use of it too, and just sticks it back into his pocket- it blinks into something smaller before it gets the chance to stab him in the thigh or anything, but he also turns around so his back is against the bed frame and he can hugs his knees to his chest. ]

A little tired, but I'm always that, so— [ "so you don't have to worry about it" He says it in his head, biting back the words before they can escape and Hank can tell him again that people are going to care no matter what. ]

...I get colds easily. It's probably just that.

[ Or an infection from one of his thousands of cuts, who knows?? not him, he's not a doctor ]

Jesus christ, you little shithead.

[Hank rolls from his knees to his feet, standing up and reaching out toward Minato's shoulder. What he intends to do is try to grab him and pull him up. What he does, just in time, is remember to stop his hand before it actually gets to Minato and drop it back to his side. It hasn't been that hard not to touch anyone, he's barely even had to try, but when this kid's sitting right in front of him looking so goddamn pathetic it's harder.]

Come on, up. How long's it been since you ate, or slept or - I don't know, any of that fun human stuff you probably don't wanna tell me whether you've been keeping up with?

[ It's kind of hard to miss when somebody reaches for you and then backs away, and if Minato is optimistic enough, he can tell himself Hank just wants to give him the autonomy to stand up by himself. He's capable of it, but he doesn't move at all, and instead just leans his head back against the mattress and stares up at Hank. ]

I ate before we set out. [ not saying what, exactly, or how much ] And I've slept plenty, too. There wasn't much to do down there, once we got to the end and couldn't figure out where else to go.

[ That, at least, he can assure Hank of: he gets enough sleep. He probably gets too much sleep, all things considered, but it's better than not enough. ]

I wanted to come see you first, anyways. I can eat and sleep and stuff after.

Can you though? You sure?

[Fuck, is this how Connor felt last night when Hank refused to get the fuck up off the floor and get to bed? For a second he almost feels sympathetic for the little fucker. Hank runs a hand through his hair.]

Fuck, what time is it? There's probably nothing made in the kitchen right now. If I have to actually make you soup I might give you some kind of medal for, I don't know, being really fuckin sneaky.

Kinda hard to tell what time it is when it's stormy out, but midday...? [ Who eats meals on a schedule, anyways? The prospect of having soup makes him straighten up a little, though- not enough to actually get up, but it's the sort of perking up somebody might expect from a dog hearing mention of dinnertime. Maybe he is actually hungry. ]

Would you actually do that? Make me soup and give me a medal?

[Hank huffs a laugh.]

Don't push your fuckin luck. Can't promise it won't be shitty, been uh- It's uh, it's been a while since I cooked anything. So. But, uh. Would that make you actually get the fuck up, if I promised you shitty soup?

I'll get up if you promise me shitty soup.

[ And he holds Hank to it, even before he promises it, pushing off his knees to stand up and shaking the stiffness out of his legs before they cramp. ]

I'm not a terrible cook, either. I'll make something for you in return.

Not today you fuckin won't.

[His arm twitches - just kind of twitches, this time - and instead of putting his arm around the kid's shoulders Hank goes to open the door for him, waving Minato ahead of him with a gesture loaded down with sarcasm to make up for the gesture.]

You're gonna eat your weird shitty soup and give me my little souvenir and then go- I don't know, I don't know your life, but you're not making shit for me until you got some sleep.

[ Minato steps out of the room, but not without lingering at the doorway and throwing a glance over his shoulder— not at Hank, but at Sumo, to see if he's awake and wants to come with them. Maybe the dog will eat something he makes if Hank refuses to; it doesn't really feel right to be taken care of when he feels like he didn't do anything to deserve it. ]

Alright, alright... The plan was to sleep for forty-eight hours after this, so I needed to see you first. We can have lunch whenever I wake up next.

What, you want him to come? Sumo, come on bud, want some food? We can go feed you some more shit you probably shouldn't be eating.

[Sumo's watching Hank, ears up, and Hank sighs, encouraging him again before glancing at Minato.]

Food? Come on buddy. Sumo.

Fourty-eight hours? Thought you said you slept a lot down there already.

Let's go, Sumo... Want to try curry?

[ Not that he can make curry, but maybe Akira has some left over in the fridge from before; he can hope. He pats his knees in what he thinks is an encouraging, but likely ineffective gesture— Koromaru's always eager to get up and go wherever Minato is, so coaxing isn't his strong suit. ]

I slept a lot, but I can't really call that rest. The ground was hard and bumpy, and cold, and wet, and crowded.

Don't promise him what you can't deliver, Sumo remembers that shit.

[It works, though. Sumo lifts himself up and off the bed and heads over to them, sniffs briefly at Minato's legs, then starts walking ahead. Hank huffs, watching him, then closes the door and starts walking kitchenward.]

So why the fuck are you visiting some old asshole, you should be in bed.

[ He'll make it a quest then: next time he comes across curry, the first bite goes to Sumo. ]

I promised I'd come see you while I'm still alive, didn't I? Otherwise, I wouldn't be answering any calls for two days.

Well, you could just tell me that, or call on your way back, or something.

[Hank frowns at Minato for a second, then speeds up to catch up to Sumo and bury a hand in his fur. It's harder not to touch, he's finding out, when he's worried. Damn it. But it's not like his stupid power turning on would help the kid. Like, even a little.]

You really think you can pull that, two without waking up? That's pretty ambitious.

[ It's probably for the best that Hank pick up on Sumo's happy curry thoughts instead, if that's something his powers can even do. For Minato, all he allows to show on his face is some quiet musing to himself- he's always been good at that, keeping things off his face, but it doesn't change the way his slow pace slows even further when he's thinking.

Whatever he's thinking, though, he shakes his head at. ]

I've done a week, before. But I was really messed up then. This feels like just a two day nap.

Yeah, well, at least you can tell, I guess.

[Hank keeps working his hand through Sumo's fur, absently. Maybe it'd be cool if he could feel dog emotions. Maybe that would make this whole thing less terrible. But that would mean that Sumo might - somehow, in a weird dog way - feel his, too, and he wouldn't even be able to pet his dog. Now that would be hell.]

You need me to uh, walk Koro or something while you're out?

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is this turning into a concern duel, only the winner gets to worry

yeah, that's how this is going to go

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