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renferretNick visits and offers an ear. Later, Ex pushes everyone way too far.
The fifth floor is fairly quiet this evening--the benefits of a shrinking moon--but not entirely. From the cub's bunkroom, there's a low, steady thump that's noticeable against the silence, if not in and of itself very loud. Ex is lying on the knifed up lower bunk, one leg kicking a fairly steady beat against the upper bunk's supports. Any sign of the previous injuries have vanished. There's also a looming, creepy sort of figure drawn on the wall; undoubtably her work, as it hasn't been there long. It's vaguely man shaped, but hooded and without any sort of a face, and with long, jagged knives instead of hands. Not a bad drawing; but certainly not the sort of mural work one would want on their wall.
Nicodemus passes by in the hall, looks in, pauses in the doorway (and goes no further in), and offers a "Hey. How's it going?" His eyes dart to the new artwork. "Creepy. Almost worse than a clown. Flint did that?" The question in that sentence implies he suspects that Flint did not.
Ex's steady kicking ceases at the voice, and she rolls her head over to regard the mage from what must be a nearly upside-down view. Her hair has got a bit longer in the past few weeks, but she really hasn't done anything to cure its ill kempt, messy look. "No." There's a moment in which it seems likely that she's not going to say anything else, but then, "A little boy that drew that'd be really fucked up."
Nicodemus raises his right hand to scratch briefly at his forehead. "I suppose maybe he would be if he'd done that," he admits. He nods towards something on or near you. "Still wearing those gloves, huh? They fit well? You need a new pair that's a little smaller or bigger?"
Ex runs the gloved fingers of one hand against the back of the other. "Fits fine," she confirms. And while they're clearly a little on the large side, they do seem to. "They all think I'm still gonna run away."
Nicodemus leans against the doorway and takes a moment to digest that last sentence. "I don't know much about cubs or training them, because I'm a little new to all this myself. But," he says in all seriousness. "If I were in your shoes, I'd probably want to run, too. And it's not like it's never happened before. Ultimately, it'd probably be a bad idea, though. They have ways of tracking people--like you wouldn't believe."
Ex's eyes flick to him now, a little more intently. "Yeah? What kind've ways?"
"That? That, I just don't know. Magic, I guess?" Nick theorizes, falling back on perhaps a trite explanation. "All I know is, if they want to find you, they'll find you." He lifts a hand in a helpless gesture. "You might be able to have one of them tell you how it works. That sort of thing is way above my pay grade, though."
Ex wrinkles her nose briefly at the mention of 'magic', but she doesn't say anything to that subject. Instead, she levers herself up on one elbow. "Well, if they can /find/ me whenever, why can't I go somewhere with more risk of me running off?" Her eyes go, very quickly, toward the covered window and back. "This place is fucking insane. You live here?"
"Honestly? I suspect they're worried you might slip up and bring all shades of hell crashing back on all of them. But once you've proven yourself to them, they'll let you go and do whatever you want. At least, I /think/ that's how it words after that whole rite of passage thing." Nick briefly chews his lower lip. "I did need to live here for a short while, but I don't anymore. But it's nice knowing that I can always come back for protection or... whatever. Should I ever need it. I'd wager you'd get pretty much the same deal, once they figured they could trust you." He waits a heartbeat and then adds, "Which is kind of why running away--or trying to--would end up hurting you more. It'd make them distrust you, and then maybe keep you even longer. Which, I know, sucks."
Ex's eyes narrow a little. "Kavi said something about a rite of passage too, but he wouldn't tell me what the fuck it was." Her nostrils flare, but there's no hint of an accompanying rise in temper, or volume. "Haven't agreed to sign up yet. Riley and the Bitch got all threatening about it. Kevin was talking about how it was my fucking destiny and in my blood and shit." She eyes Nick again, measuring. "Riley said they'd kill me before letting me walk out without signing. /Kavi/ says she was wrong. I dunno."
Nicodemus leans harder against the door's frame, then scootches so his spine rests against it instead. "I wish I had answers for you, but I just don't know what they do and do not tend to do. What I do know is that they can get very violent if provoked. Especially on fuller moons. However," Nick says, raising a contrast to his last sentence. "Kavi seems to be investing a lot of time in you. I really think he wants you to succeed."
Ex sits up now, frowning a little deeper than before. She runs a gloved hand over her hair. "Kavi and Rina don't make any fucking sense."
Nicodemus tips his head slightly to one side at this statement. "How so?"
Ex shrugs. "They're all sad and careful around me. Lots of stuff they're not saying. And Kavi got fucking /pissed/ when I told him what Riley'd said. Spend time around me not really doing anything. They give me things." She pauses a moment, and then once again eyes the kinsman. "You gave me something too."
"You seemed to need the gloves more than I did," Nick replies. "If you don't want them, you can always give them back--or to someone else. They're... just gloves," he says, as if he might have been talking about two saltine crackers. He spreads his hands in an I-don't-know gesture. "I've never seen how new cubs are trained before, so... I don't really know what's normal and what's not. But I doubt that everyone does it the same way. The Garou are not exactly the type who rigorously follows some instruction manual or written guidelines. I suspect they largely go by what was done to them--or what they wish was done to them." Nick proposes a different scenario. "Put yourself in their shoes. With their beliefs. What would you do to a newly changed cub? Because you might need to handle that in the future."
Ex shakes her head. "I don't /know/," she stresses. "What're their beliefs?" She scratches roughly at one of her cheek scars. "They've got some kind've a weird war going on with evil rapey werewolves and maybe big giant spirits. But they like some spirits I guess, 'cause Kavi and the Bitch both have one. /Lots/ of people die in it too, 'cause they've got a wall full of dead people's names. And some of them think that anyone that doesn't stay with them gets kidnapped by the evil werewolves and turned into one, so they should just kill those people, or at least not tell them anything." Her lips twist. "Um, and there's something going on with Gee-El-Ess two, but I don't really know what. The guy with deer feet just acts weird as shit, but he said they kill Gee-El-Ess two babies. But Rina and Kavi keep saying that doesn't happen here."
"The nutshell version of their beliefs?" Nicodemus offers. "They believe there's nightmarish shit out there in the world, and it's their job to go toe-to-toe with it--and turn it into chunky salsa." He waits for that simple statement to sink in, then he adds more. "Me, personally, I don't know if it's their /job/ or /duty/ or /destiny/ to do what they do. But I'll tell you this. Back when I used to be a homicide detective for the police department, I saw some things that could not be described without the use of the word 'evil.' Nothing human could have done some of these things. And someone who isn't human has to push back against that sort of thing, or it'll fester and spread like an infected wound or a cancer. Now if some of the garou think that it's their duty, or their destiny, or in the blood and that's what motivates them to do what needs to be done, great. But, from a personal perspective, I think I respect the garou who simply /choose/ to rise to the occasion more--because they're simply doing the right thing and using their supernatural power towards that end." A pause. "There's real nobility in that."
Ex draws up one knee as Nicodemus speaks, and she shows no inclination to interrupt him; indeed, she's clearly paying fairly rapt attention. Her silence goes on for a bit after he's finished, but eventually she shakes her head again. "You're wrong about something." Her tone is quiet, but firm. Immovable.
"I'm frequently wrong about a lot of things," the man in the doorway claims. "Any part in particular?" He seems pretty open to other's opinions.
Ex nods once, and then says, darkly, but with confidence, "Some of them could've been humans."
"Oh, absolutely. Some were indeed human. We--the police--managed to catch some of them and put them in jail, too. But some of them," Nicodemus states factually, "were not human. And humans are poorly equipped to deal with things like vampires and evil spirits and mutated creatures. And that's where the garou are invaluable. They help defend people against those things. Quietly. And often thanklessly. But it's still simply the right thing to do."
This time, Ex starts shaking her head again before he's done; emphatically, almost urgently. "They've got things," she says. She makes a gesture toward her own head--two fingers, thumb up, like a gun--"Needles. Gas. Walls and cameras. Little clipboards and questionnaires." Her nostrils flare again, and this time there is definite tension, though undirected. "You squash ants and flies and beetles, but sometimes you get wasps and spiders and fucking knives." Her hands go up, fingers partially curled and muscles strained. "I /told/ them, they need more guns."
It takes a moment for Nick to guess at what you're talking about. His lips tighten thinnly. "Sometimes evil comes in the form of a laboratory, not someone who goes around stabbing whole families to death in the night." He adds, "And that's, I think, one reason they want you to stay here and not run away. If you get caught, it might lead people back here and hurt the rest of the tribe--or all of the tribes. It would be like rebooting the Spanish Inquisition."
This seems to stop her for a moment. Ex's forehead wrinkles, and her jaw tightens, while she slowly lowers her hands back to her sides. "...Just want to /breathe/," she says, finally.
Nicodemus nods and hmms, as if he understands that particular need. "I've got to head out, but... a little advice that might help you out. Show an interest in spending time in the wolf's form. Then ask about getting some lessons out in the woods as a wolf. That might be the fastest way to get some space--other than asking for an escort up to the rooftop. Before I head out, do you need anything? And have you seen Devon around recently?"
Ex shakes her head. "Not since he lost it on Kevin." She purses her lips, eyes narrowing. "A newspaper?"
Nicodemus raises an eyebrow, clearly not having expected that response, and most certainly not disapproving of it either. "Done. I'll see you around, Ex." He heads off towards the stairs.
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4 From: Nicodemus At: Wed Jul 11 22:26:18 2012
Fldr : 0 Status: Unread
To : Flint
Cc : *Glass_Walkers, Rina, Nicodemus, Ex
Subject: Re: Breakroom Fridge
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As of Thursday morning, two copies of the local paper start arriving each day. Nick e-mails the Walkers to let them know that he's gotten the tribe a subscription and that one copy is for the lobby and one copy is for the 5th floor.
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----
Tenement Building - Flint's Apartment(#934RJh)
A small studio apartment of minimalist furnishings, the room looks comfortably lived in, and hasn't changed much with new occupancy. The walls are plain, undecorated, though there are post-it notes decorating one of them, and some pages from a sketchbook pinned to the wall as well. There is a kitchenette with a sink, coffeemaker, and mini-fridge, in one corner, and the rest of the room is set up as a bedroom. There is a standard full-sized mattress on the floor, complete with a single pillow, and often messy blankets. A closet sized door opens into a 3/4 bathroom, and a couple of bean bag chairs have been dragged in from somewhere and serve as the only common seating in the room.
Contents:
Flint
Obvious exits:
Out
Flint's in glabro, half-on top of the blankets, and there's a humming from the cliath's apartment, the first signs of stirring that he's shown in hours as the last of the painkillers from earlier wear off. Earphones are half-in, one on the pillow. There's a water bottle within reach, and the greater part of his abdomen, stomach, and right shoulder are covered in bandages. He's still drifting, in and out a little bit, every so often glancing towards the door, or picking up the IR remote and pointing it at his phone to change the song.
It's during one of these idle glances, without any sound loud enough to be heard over the music or his own humming, that the door abruptly appears open, with Ex standing framed in the doorway. Her eyes are narrow, with her head low enough that she's looking at him from under hooded lids. Her hands are empty, but the right one is curled into a fist.
It's clear that there's a moment where Flint tries to sit up when he spots Ex, and then he fails, slumping back into the mattress and giving her a half-nod. There're red, ugly scratches on his jaw, as well, though they've been cleaned and tended as well as possible.
Ex eyes Flint's state dispassionately; there's no real change to her expression at all. "Evil werewolf?" she hazards.
Flint shakes his head once. "Argument," he grunts, turning and his uninjured arm moves the pillow so he can at least look at the cub. "Hey, Ex."
Ex's eyes narrow a little further. She steps into the room, entirely uninvited, and then she does a strange thing. She shuts the door behind her. "That's how werewolves argue?"
"If..." the cliath musters focus, and shakes his head. "The argument," he continues, "lead to. To, getting angry, to Frenzy. Which, is what happens when. When Garou argue."
"Y'know," Ex says, slowly. Both of her hands are still behind her back, around the doorknob. There's the faint click of the lock. "Doesn't seem like you people have all that much control yourselves. How're you supposed to fucking teach me?" Her tone is level, almost conversational despite the words used.
Flint looks at her. "Unlock it," he says, conversational himself. "Please."
Ex pulls her hands away from the knob. She does not, in fact, unlock the door, but she does take two steps further into the room. "Well?" She waits barely a moment. "How're you supposed to?"
Flint looks at Ex, and there is a tired sigh and another attempt to pick himself up from the bed, and that attempt fails. "Sometimes, I. I'm still, learning," Flint says. "Cliath, doesn't mean. Not, no one's perfect. Kavi-rhya is, helping me with it, though. Please unlock, the. The door." Flint's breathing is hard, and he silences, to grab his water bottle and pull the sports-cap open with his teeth.
"Devon lost it on Kevin," Ex points out. Still, she doesn't so much as look back toward the door, though she does watch his attempts at getting up through those same, hooded eyes. "You have to breathe, you know. But if I stepped on your neck, you'd last a lot longer without air if you were hybrid form."
Flint listens to Ex for a moment, and sets aside his water bottle, hands pulling the blanket up and over him. There's a half-muttered 'ngh' and he ignores the cub a bit, ostensibly trying to be comfortable again. "Too much talk," he says, before his free hand comes out from the blankets to pull out the earphone. "Hurts to talk, right now."
"I /want/ to talk," Ex insists. "Anyway, if you got stabbed though, over and over, would it kill you? I think it'd have to be a lot, in a real vulnerable place. Maybe if it went through your eye and into your brain." Her lips purse. "But it'd have to do that a lot too. They can slice up there if they want."
"Knives, heal fast, wait breath, and it heals," the cliath says. "Unless, silver. It's, claws, other things. Doesn't heal fast, does heal." Flint takes a deep breath, and he's not wholly ignoring Ex, but there's a sense of the wooziness of pain medication and drugs in his manner.
Ex nods several times. "It'd have to be a /lot/ of stabbing. Maybe not even then." She takes another step, and then leans forward. "Tell me how you find people."
The cliath bares his teeth at her, but it's a weary gesture. "Unlock. The. My door. This is, my space," Flint informs her.
Ex repeats, with emphasis, "Tell me how you find people." A beat. "If this is your space, the fuck do you care about the door?"
Rina arrives from the hallway.
Rina has arrived.
Kavi arrives from the hallway.
Kavi has arrived.
"Because," Flint says, there's a little of the tiredness in his voice. "Said so." His uninjured shoulder lifts, and Ex's primary question gets a shake of his head. "I dun know. /I/ can't do it."
This time, Ex is the one to flash her teeth. "I don't do things just 'cause a little kid 'says so'. So who /does/ know how?"
Flint is clearly not all the way present, and he looks at Ex, the half-sided shrug as he tries to get comfortable, finishing in a wince. His voice raises. "/Don't know/."
Rina knocks on the door. "Hey, ah, Flint?"
Ex starts to say something, but the knock startles her. She flicks a glance toward the door.
Flint looks at Ex, then looks at the door. "Ex," he says, loudly enough that he might be heard through the door, on the other side, and his voice is strained, though it might be the pain from talking given his injuries. "Get the door, please."
There's the briefest of twitches to Ex's mouth. "No," she declares. Not loudly, but it's still likely to be audible to the other side of the door.
Even as exhausted as Flint is, that brings a flash of anger to his face, and he pushes to sitting up with an audible exclamation of pain. "Then leave my room," he tells Ex, words carefully grunted out, and points with uninjured arm at the door.
Rina takes a slow breath. "Ex," she says patiently, "I am *perfectly* capable of blowing this door open, but I would *really* rather not have to do it. Doors are expensive and we go through a lot of them around here."
"No," Ex says again. This time, she sounds almost delighted. At the very least, closer than she ever has before. She jerks her gaze back to the door as Rina speaks, and scowls. "I'm just /talking/."
Wincing, Rina steps back, looks to Kavi and mutters, "I don't wanna shoot her by accident. Shoulder?"
Halfway to sitting up is as far as Flint gets, and there's a glance towards the doorway, and towards Ex, before Flint lays back down with less grace than an elephant.
Even as Rina turns she can see the bandages rip from his arm as he shifts. It's only a moment after that, not even a full second, that the full force of his glabro weight comes against the door and the wood around the lock cracks and comes apart and the door flies inward.
Rina winces, bringing up a hand to rub at the back of her neck. "Or Glabro, that'd be fine too," she says with a certain pained dryness.
Whatever Ex was expecting as a reaction, it certainly wasn't that. She flees from the suddenly inward swinging door, straight past--or over--Flint, to the bathroom. Where she proceeds to slam and lock the door again.
Flint looks to the doorway, wincing a little but there's also a grateful expression, even as he fights to regain a sitting position. "Really?" he grunts, eyes shutting. The cliath shouldn't be sitting up, and he looks to Kavi. "Do you, Nieve has a gift, that? She. Opened drawers, with it, and, cabinets."
Kavi watches Ex flee, even as he follows her deeper into the room. He doesn't even seem to hear Flint, though he stops at the bathroom door, and his fingers rake back through his hair.
Rina is stepping into the apartment when she hears the slam of the door. "Oh, for FUCK'S sake!" she says fiercely. And as she stalks in, of course, the hapless Cliath gets the brunt of her glare. "*Lay* the *fuck* down."
"I'm armed!" comes Ex's voice--muffled by the door, but certainly loud enough for everyone to hear. "I will stab the /fuck/ out of you. I will shove your fucking five-A down your fucking throat and make you choke on it!"
Flint takes a bit of a breath as he sits up, and again, laying back down is a rather abrupt motion more akin to collapsing backwards on the bed. "She. Woke up, and she was," Flint says, "and, she. I asked her, to. Unlock, it." Then Flint's silent.
Rina winces, glancing down. She takes a long, slow breath, letting it out in a sigh. "Maa--*donn'," she mutters, rubbing at the back of her neck.
Kavi's hands go to the door, shoulder height at either side. He leans in, touching his forehead to the wood, and draws in a deep breath. "Come out," he says, the gravelly tones of his glabro voice more than capable of penetrating the distance.
"Ex," Rina says casually, raising her voice. "If your knife isn't silver, it won't do *shit*, you know."
There's silence from the bathroom. A long, pregnant sort of silence, and then the lock clicks again. She doesn't actually open the door though.
Flint tries in vain to settle, and ends up propping himself up on the uninjured arm such that he can still look, see what's going on, despite the wince it brings to his face.
Kavi pushes back from the door enough to stand upright, and his hand reaches out for the knob. "I'm going to open it," he says, and then turns the knob just enough to ease it free of the latch.
This seems to go unchallenged, though Kavi might hear the faintest sound of quickened, anxious breathing from the other side.
Rina rubs at the back of her neck, but lets out another slow breath. She comes to sit on the edge of Flint's bed, then, gingerly, studying his face as if she can read the rest of his state there.
Flint's brow is furrowed, attention on the elder galliard for the half a minute or so that he manages to sit up, and then there's another wince as he settles back on the bed, gaze turning to Rina. "Thank you mom," he whispers.
Kavi takes half a step back and to the side. "No one will hurt you," he says and then pushes at the door enough that if the hinges are loose, it could swing all the way.
Rina touches a hand to Flint's. "You shouldn't move that much, aright? Not until at least t'morra. Text me, you need me ta bring somethin'."
It ends up mostly doing that. Ex is halfway into the small bathroom, with her knife raised (blade pointed down, as Slug helpfully instructed). Her abnormally bright eyes look rather wet and glassy just now, though there's no sign of tears having actually fallen. Or, for that matter, falling. Her gaze flicks over Kavi, and she slowly lowers the knife. There a sharper inhale, just one, and she seems to swallow something.
The cliath nods, and there's another wince as all the movement that he's done takes a toll, no hiding the evident pain that's returned between the exertion and the last dose of painkillers being long hours ago. "Try not to," he agrees.
Kavi steps back again from the door, leaving a clear path from one to the other, should Ex choose to take it. He looks at her for only a moment and then gestures toward the open, broken door. The injuries he sustained the other day in pulling her out of Devon's reach have yet to fully heal.
Rina nods, her gaze on the boy, serious. "You want another dose, or no? If you think you need it to sleep, the answer is yes. You'll heal faster. If you can sleep without it, great."
Ex folds the switchblade and tucks it back into her pocket, then shuffles out of the bathroom--though she doesn't move for the hallway itself. Her shoulders hunch as she goes, and her head lowers, and now it's Kavi she's watching from under hooded eyelids, rather than Flint. The would-be tears are rapidly blinked away.
Flint glances past Rina, to Ex, as she emerges, and watches her, before attention returns to the question asked. "It hurts," is the very simple answer. "It, I. Woke up, because." There's a nod. "I. I think yes." Chest rises and falls, breaths sometimes bringing a wince.
Kavi's expression is hard to read, more closed than usual and his glabro form makes everything sharper, harder, as well. "You're okay, now?" he asks, but even the question is flat, almost a statement as inflected.
Rina nods, and glances to Kavi. "After they go," she says quietly.
"We were just talking," Ex replies. There's a tinge of the expected excuse to it, but much like Kavi's words, it comes out more like a statement of fact, missing most of the sort of emphasis it should have.
There is a flare of anger from Flint, though it doesn't stir him much, "I told you! I said, unlock it. I said, too much talking! I said, you--" and the cliath bites his lower lip and shuts his mouth, falling silent with some effort, breathing now less steady than it had been before.
Rina silences him with a squeeze of his hand and a tiny, authoritative shake of her head.
Kavi teneses, shoulders rising, hunching, at the flare of anger from the clith. His lips pull back from his teeth in his own display, though his is silent, and it's impossible to tell at whom it is directed. He gestures again to the open door, and this time there's more of a directive in it as he looks to Ex.
There's a flash of temper from Ex as well; muted, tightly restrained, visible only in her eyes and her expression. She doesn't look at any of the three as she heads for the hallway at a swift clip.
Flint bites his lower lip and shuts his eyes, silencing at the touch of his hand and putting effort into pulling the anger back down and pushing it away, and he reaches for the nearby water bottle, fumbling until he gets it.
Kavi glances back to Flint and Rina, and then follows Ex out into the hall.
Rina passes it to him without a word, her gaze steady. "There," she says. "Gone now. Until I get back, I want you to focus on your breathing. Lie down and breathe low, try to breathe into the pain. Into where it hurts."
Ex doesn't hesitate once she's out of Flint's room, and she turns immediately for the bunkroom without needing further direction. Her hands shove into her hoodie pocket as she goes.
Kavi stops for a beat, once he reaches the relative open space of the hall, but then turns and follows Ex to the bunkroom. He doesn't follow her in, however, but instead stops at the doorway. His gaze is on the floor, picking out the pattern of the carpet.
Ex keeps right on going, into the room, to the slashed up bed. She climbs onto it, faces the wall, and lies still. She didn't even bother to kick off her shoes.
Kavi stays in the doorway, and it's several long breaths before he speaks. "I will protect you. Whatever it takes. Whatever I have to do. I will protect you." His hands clench into fists at his sides, though she can't see with her back to him. "And I'll protect him, too. Don't think you can make me choose. I won't. I won't choose him over you. I won't choose you over him. I'll protect you both. Whatever it takes."
"I was just," Ex says, mostly into the abused pillow, "/talking/."
There's no softness in his tone; it's not the gentle sound his voice usually has when he teaches, or when he explains. Perhaps it's just the gravel of the glabro he still wears, but the tone is much colder than it usually is. "You know what upset him. You need to know why you did it. You don't need to tell me. But you need to know." He takes a step back, just out of the room, and draws in a breath. "And I will /still/ protect you, no matter how many times you do it."
Ex inhales deeply, and says, "Because I /could/." There's no smugness to it, no childish petulance, no note of triumph. Even so, there's a strange sort of emphasis all the same.
"I know," Kavi tells her. "You have that power. You always do. You don't have to use it. You can decide." Another step back, then, puts him fully in the hallway, in the length of open space.
"/No/," Ex says. There's temper now, but she still doesn't turn around, or stop speaking into the pillow. "I told him no. I told Rina no. No restraint, no empty rooms, no encouragement, no five-A. I could do it, so I did."
The sound of a fist hitting drywall a low thud that shakes the wall and vibrates through the room. "No!" Kavi answers from the doorway. "You did it /to/ him!"
Ex sits up and turns to face Kavi fast enough to make herself dizzy. She inhales once, sharply. "I locked his stupid door! He could open it if he had to! Just turn the knob. Isn't even really /locking/. Isn't even really a door. You can't just push locked doors open!"
Kavi stand in that doorway, the first that hit the wall still held hard against it. His voice, when he speaks again, is low, dangerous, an anger in it that keeps it quiet rather than shouting. "The doorway is blocked. You way out is blocked. It hurts your head. Makes the anger worse. His room /His/ space. /His/ choice. This is /your/ space. /You/ choose. Door open or closed. That's /your/ choice. Don't take away /his/ choices."
Ex's eyes round out for a moment, before she settles again, now digging her fingers into the bedding. "I only have the choice because you say so. I can't make you move if you want to stand in the doorway all fucking night. But /he/ can call you. Break down his fake door. Crawl over and open it. Go outside and get into fights."
Ex adds, "I /can't/ take it away."
Kavi takes the three steps that bring him back inside the room. His fingers stretch and then curl, and his voice, still quiet has an odd edge to it. "I can't," he says. "I can't do this, now. But I promise you. I /promise/ you, that if he, or Devon or Riley, or /anyone/ blocks you in, locks you in, and you want out. If you call. If you shout. I /will/ hear you, and I /will/ come. I will come for /you/ just like I came for him. I /gave/ you this, and /no one/ will take it away. Your space. /Your/ choice." He doesn't wait for her to reply, but turns and starts to leave. "I have to go. I have to leave. I need to be alone. Now."
Because of this, he doesn't see Ex briefly return to the rapid blinking from before. She says nothing. No arguments, no retorts, no expressions of disbelief. Not even a word of acknowledgment. She's entirely silent as Kavi turns to go, this time.
The fifth floor is fairly quiet this evening--the benefits of a shrinking moon--but not entirely. From the cub's bunkroom, there's a low, steady thump that's noticeable against the silence, if not in and of itself very loud. Ex is lying on the knifed up lower bunk, one leg kicking a fairly steady beat against the upper bunk's supports. Any sign of the previous injuries have vanished. There's also a looming, creepy sort of figure drawn on the wall; undoubtably her work, as it hasn't been there long. It's vaguely man shaped, but hooded and without any sort of a face, and with long, jagged knives instead of hands. Not a bad drawing; but certainly not the sort of mural work one would want on their wall.
Nicodemus passes by in the hall, looks in, pauses in the doorway (and goes no further in), and offers a "Hey. How's it going?" His eyes dart to the new artwork. "Creepy. Almost worse than a clown. Flint did that?" The question in that sentence implies he suspects that Flint did not.
Ex's steady kicking ceases at the voice, and she rolls her head over to regard the mage from what must be a nearly upside-down view. Her hair has got a bit longer in the past few weeks, but she really hasn't done anything to cure its ill kempt, messy look. "No." There's a moment in which it seems likely that she's not going to say anything else, but then, "A little boy that drew that'd be really fucked up."
Nicodemus raises his right hand to scratch briefly at his forehead. "I suppose maybe he would be if he'd done that," he admits. He nods towards something on or near you. "Still wearing those gloves, huh? They fit well? You need a new pair that's a little smaller or bigger?"
Ex runs the gloved fingers of one hand against the back of the other. "Fits fine," she confirms. And while they're clearly a little on the large side, they do seem to. "They all think I'm still gonna run away."
Nicodemus leans against the doorway and takes a moment to digest that last sentence. "I don't know much about cubs or training them, because I'm a little new to all this myself. But," he says in all seriousness. "If I were in your shoes, I'd probably want to run, too. And it's not like it's never happened before. Ultimately, it'd probably be a bad idea, though. They have ways of tracking people--like you wouldn't believe."
Ex's eyes flick to him now, a little more intently. "Yeah? What kind've ways?"
"That? That, I just don't know. Magic, I guess?" Nick theorizes, falling back on perhaps a trite explanation. "All I know is, if they want to find you, they'll find you." He lifts a hand in a helpless gesture. "You might be able to have one of them tell you how it works. That sort of thing is way above my pay grade, though."
Ex wrinkles her nose briefly at the mention of 'magic', but she doesn't say anything to that subject. Instead, she levers herself up on one elbow. "Well, if they can /find/ me whenever, why can't I go somewhere with more risk of me running off?" Her eyes go, very quickly, toward the covered window and back. "This place is fucking insane. You live here?"
"Honestly? I suspect they're worried you might slip up and bring all shades of hell crashing back on all of them. But once you've proven yourself to them, they'll let you go and do whatever you want. At least, I /think/ that's how it words after that whole rite of passage thing." Nick briefly chews his lower lip. "I did need to live here for a short while, but I don't anymore. But it's nice knowing that I can always come back for protection or... whatever. Should I ever need it. I'd wager you'd get pretty much the same deal, once they figured they could trust you." He waits a heartbeat and then adds, "Which is kind of why running away--or trying to--would end up hurting you more. It'd make them distrust you, and then maybe keep you even longer. Which, I know, sucks."
Ex's eyes narrow a little. "Kavi said something about a rite of passage too, but he wouldn't tell me what the fuck it was." Her nostrils flare, but there's no hint of an accompanying rise in temper, or volume. "Haven't agreed to sign up yet. Riley and the Bitch got all threatening about it. Kevin was talking about how it was my fucking destiny and in my blood and shit." She eyes Nick again, measuring. "Riley said they'd kill me before letting me walk out without signing. /Kavi/ says she was wrong. I dunno."
Nicodemus leans harder against the door's frame, then scootches so his spine rests against it instead. "I wish I had answers for you, but I just don't know what they do and do not tend to do. What I do know is that they can get very violent if provoked. Especially on fuller moons. However," Nick says, raising a contrast to his last sentence. "Kavi seems to be investing a lot of time in you. I really think he wants you to succeed."
Ex sits up now, frowning a little deeper than before. She runs a gloved hand over her hair. "Kavi and Rina don't make any fucking sense."
Nicodemus tips his head slightly to one side at this statement. "How so?"
Ex shrugs. "They're all sad and careful around me. Lots of stuff they're not saying. And Kavi got fucking /pissed/ when I told him what Riley'd said. Spend time around me not really doing anything. They give me things." She pauses a moment, and then once again eyes the kinsman. "You gave me something too."
"You seemed to need the gloves more than I did," Nick replies. "If you don't want them, you can always give them back--or to someone else. They're... just gloves," he says, as if he might have been talking about two saltine crackers. He spreads his hands in an I-don't-know gesture. "I've never seen how new cubs are trained before, so... I don't really know what's normal and what's not. But I doubt that everyone does it the same way. The Garou are not exactly the type who rigorously follows some instruction manual or written guidelines. I suspect they largely go by what was done to them--or what they wish was done to them." Nick proposes a different scenario. "Put yourself in their shoes. With their beliefs. What would you do to a newly changed cub? Because you might need to handle that in the future."
Ex shakes her head. "I don't /know/," she stresses. "What're their beliefs?" She scratches roughly at one of her cheek scars. "They've got some kind've a weird war going on with evil rapey werewolves and maybe big giant spirits. But they like some spirits I guess, 'cause Kavi and the Bitch both have one. /Lots/ of people die in it too, 'cause they've got a wall full of dead people's names. And some of them think that anyone that doesn't stay with them gets kidnapped by the evil werewolves and turned into one, so they should just kill those people, or at least not tell them anything." Her lips twist. "Um, and there's something going on with Gee-El-Ess two, but I don't really know what. The guy with deer feet just acts weird as shit, but he said they kill Gee-El-Ess two babies. But Rina and Kavi keep saying that doesn't happen here."
"The nutshell version of their beliefs?" Nicodemus offers. "They believe there's nightmarish shit out there in the world, and it's their job to go toe-to-toe with it--and turn it into chunky salsa." He waits for that simple statement to sink in, then he adds more. "Me, personally, I don't know if it's their /job/ or /duty/ or /destiny/ to do what they do. But I'll tell you this. Back when I used to be a homicide detective for the police department, I saw some things that could not be described without the use of the word 'evil.' Nothing human could have done some of these things. And someone who isn't human has to push back against that sort of thing, or it'll fester and spread like an infected wound or a cancer. Now if some of the garou think that it's their duty, or their destiny, or in the blood and that's what motivates them to do what needs to be done, great. But, from a personal perspective, I think I respect the garou who simply /choose/ to rise to the occasion more--because they're simply doing the right thing and using their supernatural power towards that end." A pause. "There's real nobility in that."
Ex draws up one knee as Nicodemus speaks, and she shows no inclination to interrupt him; indeed, she's clearly paying fairly rapt attention. Her silence goes on for a bit after he's finished, but eventually she shakes her head again. "You're wrong about something." Her tone is quiet, but firm. Immovable.
"I'm frequently wrong about a lot of things," the man in the doorway claims. "Any part in particular?" He seems pretty open to other's opinions.
Ex nods once, and then says, darkly, but with confidence, "Some of them could've been humans."
"Oh, absolutely. Some were indeed human. We--the police--managed to catch some of them and put them in jail, too. But some of them," Nicodemus states factually, "were not human. And humans are poorly equipped to deal with things like vampires and evil spirits and mutated creatures. And that's where the garou are invaluable. They help defend people against those things. Quietly. And often thanklessly. But it's still simply the right thing to do."
This time, Ex starts shaking her head again before he's done; emphatically, almost urgently. "They've got things," she says. She makes a gesture toward her own head--two fingers, thumb up, like a gun--"Needles. Gas. Walls and cameras. Little clipboards and questionnaires." Her nostrils flare again, and this time there is definite tension, though undirected. "You squash ants and flies and beetles, but sometimes you get wasps and spiders and fucking knives." Her hands go up, fingers partially curled and muscles strained. "I /told/ them, they need more guns."
It takes a moment for Nick to guess at what you're talking about. His lips tighten thinnly. "Sometimes evil comes in the form of a laboratory, not someone who goes around stabbing whole families to death in the night." He adds, "And that's, I think, one reason they want you to stay here and not run away. If you get caught, it might lead people back here and hurt the rest of the tribe--or all of the tribes. It would be like rebooting the Spanish Inquisition."
This seems to stop her for a moment. Ex's forehead wrinkles, and her jaw tightens, while she slowly lowers her hands back to her sides. "...Just want to /breathe/," she says, finally.
Nicodemus nods and hmms, as if he understands that particular need. "I've got to head out, but... a little advice that might help you out. Show an interest in spending time in the wolf's form. Then ask about getting some lessons out in the woods as a wolf. That might be the fastest way to get some space--other than asking for an escort up to the rooftop. Before I head out, do you need anything? And have you seen Devon around recently?"
Ex shakes her head. "Not since he lost it on Kevin." She purses her lips, eyes narrowing. "A newspaper?"
Nicodemus raises an eyebrow, clearly not having expected that response, and most certainly not disapproving of it either. "Done. I'll see you around, Ex." He heads off towards the stairs.
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4 From: Nicodemus At: Wed Jul 11 22:26:18 2012
Fldr : 0 Status: Unread
To : Flint
Cc : *Glass_Walkers, Rina, Nicodemus, Ex
Subject: Re: Breakroom Fridge
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As of Thursday morning, two copies of the local paper start arriving each day. Nick e-mails the Walkers to let them know that he's gotten the tribe a subscription and that one copy is for the lobby and one copy is for the 5th floor.
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----
Tenement Building - Flint's Apartment(#934RJh)
A small studio apartment of minimalist furnishings, the room looks comfortably lived in, and hasn't changed much with new occupancy. The walls are plain, undecorated, though there are post-it notes decorating one of them, and some pages from a sketchbook pinned to the wall as well. There is a kitchenette with a sink, coffeemaker, and mini-fridge, in one corner, and the rest of the room is set up as a bedroom. There is a standard full-sized mattress on the floor, complete with a single pillow, and often messy blankets. A closet sized door opens into a 3/4 bathroom, and a couple of bean bag chairs have been dragged in from somewhere and serve as the only common seating in the room.
Contents:
Flint
Obvious exits:
Out
Flint's in glabro, half-on top of the blankets, and there's a humming from the cliath's apartment, the first signs of stirring that he's shown in hours as the last of the painkillers from earlier wear off. Earphones are half-in, one on the pillow. There's a water bottle within reach, and the greater part of his abdomen, stomach, and right shoulder are covered in bandages. He's still drifting, in and out a little bit, every so often glancing towards the door, or picking up the IR remote and pointing it at his phone to change the song.
It's during one of these idle glances, without any sound loud enough to be heard over the music or his own humming, that the door abruptly appears open, with Ex standing framed in the doorway. Her eyes are narrow, with her head low enough that she's looking at him from under hooded lids. Her hands are empty, but the right one is curled into a fist.
It's clear that there's a moment where Flint tries to sit up when he spots Ex, and then he fails, slumping back into the mattress and giving her a half-nod. There're red, ugly scratches on his jaw, as well, though they've been cleaned and tended as well as possible.
Ex eyes Flint's state dispassionately; there's no real change to her expression at all. "Evil werewolf?" she hazards.
Flint shakes his head once. "Argument," he grunts, turning and his uninjured arm moves the pillow so he can at least look at the cub. "Hey, Ex."
Ex's eyes narrow a little further. She steps into the room, entirely uninvited, and then she does a strange thing. She shuts the door behind her. "That's how werewolves argue?"
"If..." the cliath musters focus, and shakes his head. "The argument," he continues, "lead to. To, getting angry, to Frenzy. Which, is what happens when. When Garou argue."
"Y'know," Ex says, slowly. Both of her hands are still behind her back, around the doorknob. There's the faint click of the lock. "Doesn't seem like you people have all that much control yourselves. How're you supposed to fucking teach me?" Her tone is level, almost conversational despite the words used.
Flint looks at her. "Unlock it," he says, conversational himself. "Please."
Ex pulls her hands away from the knob. She does not, in fact, unlock the door, but she does take two steps further into the room. "Well?" She waits barely a moment. "How're you supposed to?"
Flint looks at Ex, and there is a tired sigh and another attempt to pick himself up from the bed, and that attempt fails. "Sometimes, I. I'm still, learning," Flint says. "Cliath, doesn't mean. Not, no one's perfect. Kavi-rhya is, helping me with it, though. Please unlock, the. The door." Flint's breathing is hard, and he silences, to grab his water bottle and pull the sports-cap open with his teeth.
"Devon lost it on Kevin," Ex points out. Still, she doesn't so much as look back toward the door, though she does watch his attempts at getting up through those same, hooded eyes. "You have to breathe, you know. But if I stepped on your neck, you'd last a lot longer without air if you were hybrid form."
Flint listens to Ex for a moment, and sets aside his water bottle, hands pulling the blanket up and over him. There's a half-muttered 'ngh' and he ignores the cub a bit, ostensibly trying to be comfortable again. "Too much talk," he says, before his free hand comes out from the blankets to pull out the earphone. "Hurts to talk, right now."
"I /want/ to talk," Ex insists. "Anyway, if you got stabbed though, over and over, would it kill you? I think it'd have to be a lot, in a real vulnerable place. Maybe if it went through your eye and into your brain." Her lips purse. "But it'd have to do that a lot too. They can slice up there if they want."
"Knives, heal fast, wait breath, and it heals," the cliath says. "Unless, silver. It's, claws, other things. Doesn't heal fast, does heal." Flint takes a deep breath, and he's not wholly ignoring Ex, but there's a sense of the wooziness of pain medication and drugs in his manner.
Ex nods several times. "It'd have to be a /lot/ of stabbing. Maybe not even then." She takes another step, and then leans forward. "Tell me how you find people."
The cliath bares his teeth at her, but it's a weary gesture. "Unlock. The. My door. This is, my space," Flint informs her.
Ex repeats, with emphasis, "Tell me how you find people." A beat. "If this is your space, the fuck do you care about the door?"
Rina arrives from the hallway.
Rina has arrived.
Kavi arrives from the hallway.
Kavi has arrived.
"Because," Flint says, there's a little of the tiredness in his voice. "Said so." His uninjured shoulder lifts, and Ex's primary question gets a shake of his head. "I dun know. /I/ can't do it."
This time, Ex is the one to flash her teeth. "I don't do things just 'cause a little kid 'says so'. So who /does/ know how?"
Flint is clearly not all the way present, and he looks at Ex, the half-sided shrug as he tries to get comfortable, finishing in a wince. His voice raises. "/Don't know/."
Rina knocks on the door. "Hey, ah, Flint?"
Ex starts to say something, but the knock startles her. She flicks a glance toward the door.
Flint looks at Ex, then looks at the door. "Ex," he says, loudly enough that he might be heard through the door, on the other side, and his voice is strained, though it might be the pain from talking given his injuries. "Get the door, please."
There's the briefest of twitches to Ex's mouth. "No," she declares. Not loudly, but it's still likely to be audible to the other side of the door.
Even as exhausted as Flint is, that brings a flash of anger to his face, and he pushes to sitting up with an audible exclamation of pain. "Then leave my room," he tells Ex, words carefully grunted out, and points with uninjured arm at the door.
Rina takes a slow breath. "Ex," she says patiently, "I am *perfectly* capable of blowing this door open, but I would *really* rather not have to do it. Doors are expensive and we go through a lot of them around here."
"No," Ex says again. This time, she sounds almost delighted. At the very least, closer than she ever has before. She jerks her gaze back to the door as Rina speaks, and scowls. "I'm just /talking/."
Wincing, Rina steps back, looks to Kavi and mutters, "I don't wanna shoot her by accident. Shoulder?"
Halfway to sitting up is as far as Flint gets, and there's a glance towards the doorway, and towards Ex, before Flint lays back down with less grace than an elephant.
Even as Rina turns she can see the bandages rip from his arm as he shifts. It's only a moment after that, not even a full second, that the full force of his glabro weight comes against the door and the wood around the lock cracks and comes apart and the door flies inward.
Rina winces, bringing up a hand to rub at the back of her neck. "Or Glabro, that'd be fine too," she says with a certain pained dryness.
Whatever Ex was expecting as a reaction, it certainly wasn't that. She flees from the suddenly inward swinging door, straight past--or over--Flint, to the bathroom. Where she proceeds to slam and lock the door again.
Flint looks to the doorway, wincing a little but there's also a grateful expression, even as he fights to regain a sitting position. "Really?" he grunts, eyes shutting. The cliath shouldn't be sitting up, and he looks to Kavi. "Do you, Nieve has a gift, that? She. Opened drawers, with it, and, cabinets."
Kavi watches Ex flee, even as he follows her deeper into the room. He doesn't even seem to hear Flint, though he stops at the bathroom door, and his fingers rake back through his hair.
Rina is stepping into the apartment when she hears the slam of the door. "Oh, for FUCK'S sake!" she says fiercely. And as she stalks in, of course, the hapless Cliath gets the brunt of her glare. "*Lay* the *fuck* down."
"I'm armed!" comes Ex's voice--muffled by the door, but certainly loud enough for everyone to hear. "I will stab the /fuck/ out of you. I will shove your fucking five-A down your fucking throat and make you choke on it!"
Flint takes a bit of a breath as he sits up, and again, laying back down is a rather abrupt motion more akin to collapsing backwards on the bed. "She. Woke up, and she was," Flint says, "and, she. I asked her, to. Unlock, it." Then Flint's silent.
Rina winces, glancing down. She takes a long, slow breath, letting it out in a sigh. "Maa--*donn'," she mutters, rubbing at the back of her neck.
Kavi's hands go to the door, shoulder height at either side. He leans in, touching his forehead to the wood, and draws in a deep breath. "Come out," he says, the gravelly tones of his glabro voice more than capable of penetrating the distance.
"Ex," Rina says casually, raising her voice. "If your knife isn't silver, it won't do *shit*, you know."
There's silence from the bathroom. A long, pregnant sort of silence, and then the lock clicks again. She doesn't actually open the door though.
Flint tries in vain to settle, and ends up propping himself up on the uninjured arm such that he can still look, see what's going on, despite the wince it brings to his face.
Kavi pushes back from the door enough to stand upright, and his hand reaches out for the knob. "I'm going to open it," he says, and then turns the knob just enough to ease it free of the latch.
This seems to go unchallenged, though Kavi might hear the faintest sound of quickened, anxious breathing from the other side.
Rina rubs at the back of her neck, but lets out another slow breath. She comes to sit on the edge of Flint's bed, then, gingerly, studying his face as if she can read the rest of his state there.
Flint's brow is furrowed, attention on the elder galliard for the half a minute or so that he manages to sit up, and then there's another wince as he settles back on the bed, gaze turning to Rina. "Thank you mom," he whispers.
Kavi takes half a step back and to the side. "No one will hurt you," he says and then pushes at the door enough that if the hinges are loose, it could swing all the way.
Rina touches a hand to Flint's. "You shouldn't move that much, aright? Not until at least t'morra. Text me, you need me ta bring somethin'."
It ends up mostly doing that. Ex is halfway into the small bathroom, with her knife raised (blade pointed down, as Slug helpfully instructed). Her abnormally bright eyes look rather wet and glassy just now, though there's no sign of tears having actually fallen. Or, for that matter, falling. Her gaze flicks over Kavi, and she slowly lowers the knife. There a sharper inhale, just one, and she seems to swallow something.
The cliath nods, and there's another wince as all the movement that he's done takes a toll, no hiding the evident pain that's returned between the exertion and the last dose of painkillers being long hours ago. "Try not to," he agrees.
Kavi steps back again from the door, leaving a clear path from one to the other, should Ex choose to take it. He looks at her for only a moment and then gestures toward the open, broken door. The injuries he sustained the other day in pulling her out of Devon's reach have yet to fully heal.
Rina nods, her gaze on the boy, serious. "You want another dose, or no? If you think you need it to sleep, the answer is yes. You'll heal faster. If you can sleep without it, great."
Ex folds the switchblade and tucks it back into her pocket, then shuffles out of the bathroom--though she doesn't move for the hallway itself. Her shoulders hunch as she goes, and her head lowers, and now it's Kavi she's watching from under hooded eyelids, rather than Flint. The would-be tears are rapidly blinked away.
Flint glances past Rina, to Ex, as she emerges, and watches her, before attention returns to the question asked. "It hurts," is the very simple answer. "It, I. Woke up, because." There's a nod. "I. I think yes." Chest rises and falls, breaths sometimes bringing a wince.
Kavi's expression is hard to read, more closed than usual and his glabro form makes everything sharper, harder, as well. "You're okay, now?" he asks, but even the question is flat, almost a statement as inflected.
Rina nods, and glances to Kavi. "After they go," she says quietly.
"We were just talking," Ex replies. There's a tinge of the expected excuse to it, but much like Kavi's words, it comes out more like a statement of fact, missing most of the sort of emphasis it should have.
There is a flare of anger from Flint, though it doesn't stir him much, "I told you! I said, unlock it. I said, too much talking! I said, you--" and the cliath bites his lower lip and shuts his mouth, falling silent with some effort, breathing now less steady than it had been before.
Rina silences him with a squeeze of his hand and a tiny, authoritative shake of her head.
Kavi teneses, shoulders rising, hunching, at the flare of anger from the clith. His lips pull back from his teeth in his own display, though his is silent, and it's impossible to tell at whom it is directed. He gestures again to the open door, and this time there's more of a directive in it as he looks to Ex.
There's a flash of temper from Ex as well; muted, tightly restrained, visible only in her eyes and her expression. She doesn't look at any of the three as she heads for the hallway at a swift clip.
Flint bites his lower lip and shuts his eyes, silencing at the touch of his hand and putting effort into pulling the anger back down and pushing it away, and he reaches for the nearby water bottle, fumbling until he gets it.
Kavi glances back to Flint and Rina, and then follows Ex out into the hall.
Rina passes it to him without a word, her gaze steady. "There," she says. "Gone now. Until I get back, I want you to focus on your breathing. Lie down and breathe low, try to breathe into the pain. Into where it hurts."
Ex doesn't hesitate once she's out of Flint's room, and she turns immediately for the bunkroom without needing further direction. Her hands shove into her hoodie pocket as she goes.
Kavi stops for a beat, once he reaches the relative open space of the hall, but then turns and follows Ex to the bunkroom. He doesn't follow her in, however, but instead stops at the doorway. His gaze is on the floor, picking out the pattern of the carpet.
Ex keeps right on going, into the room, to the slashed up bed. She climbs onto it, faces the wall, and lies still. She didn't even bother to kick off her shoes.
Kavi stays in the doorway, and it's several long breaths before he speaks. "I will protect you. Whatever it takes. Whatever I have to do. I will protect you." His hands clench into fists at his sides, though she can't see with her back to him. "And I'll protect him, too. Don't think you can make me choose. I won't. I won't choose him over you. I won't choose you over him. I'll protect you both. Whatever it takes."
"I was just," Ex says, mostly into the abused pillow, "/talking/."
There's no softness in his tone; it's not the gentle sound his voice usually has when he teaches, or when he explains. Perhaps it's just the gravel of the glabro he still wears, but the tone is much colder than it usually is. "You know what upset him. You need to know why you did it. You don't need to tell me. But you need to know." He takes a step back, just out of the room, and draws in a breath. "And I will /still/ protect you, no matter how many times you do it."
Ex inhales deeply, and says, "Because I /could/." There's no smugness to it, no childish petulance, no note of triumph. Even so, there's a strange sort of emphasis all the same.
"I know," Kavi tells her. "You have that power. You always do. You don't have to use it. You can decide." Another step back, then, puts him fully in the hallway, in the length of open space.
"/No/," Ex says. There's temper now, but she still doesn't turn around, or stop speaking into the pillow. "I told him no. I told Rina no. No restraint, no empty rooms, no encouragement, no five-A. I could do it, so I did."
The sound of a fist hitting drywall a low thud that shakes the wall and vibrates through the room. "No!" Kavi answers from the doorway. "You did it /to/ him!"
Ex sits up and turns to face Kavi fast enough to make herself dizzy. She inhales once, sharply. "I locked his stupid door! He could open it if he had to! Just turn the knob. Isn't even really /locking/. Isn't even really a door. You can't just push locked doors open!"
Kavi stand in that doorway, the first that hit the wall still held hard against it. His voice, when he speaks again, is low, dangerous, an anger in it that keeps it quiet rather than shouting. "The doorway is blocked. You way out is blocked. It hurts your head. Makes the anger worse. His room /His/ space. /His/ choice. This is /your/ space. /You/ choose. Door open or closed. That's /your/ choice. Don't take away /his/ choices."
Ex's eyes round out for a moment, before she settles again, now digging her fingers into the bedding. "I only have the choice because you say so. I can't make you move if you want to stand in the doorway all fucking night. But /he/ can call you. Break down his fake door. Crawl over and open it. Go outside and get into fights."
Ex adds, "I /can't/ take it away."
Kavi takes the three steps that bring him back inside the room. His fingers stretch and then curl, and his voice, still quiet has an odd edge to it. "I can't," he says. "I can't do this, now. But I promise you. I /promise/ you, that if he, or Devon or Riley, or /anyone/ blocks you in, locks you in, and you want out. If you call. If you shout. I /will/ hear you, and I /will/ come. I will come for /you/ just like I came for him. I /gave/ you this, and /no one/ will take it away. Your space. /Your/ choice." He doesn't wait for her to reply, but turns and starts to leave. "I have to go. I have to leave. I need to be alone. Now."
Because of this, he doesn't see Ex briefly return to the rapid blinking from before. She says nothing. No arguments, no retorts, no expressions of disbelief. Not even a word of acknowledgment. She's entirely silent as Kavi turns to go, this time.
