charlastan | TLV IC Inbox!

[a demonic growl of frustration as he he rubs his face]

I know! Believe me, I am AWARE.

[Oh no. Relationship drama.]

Eesh! Touchy! Alright, alright - go get your stuff and come on over. We can catch up when you get here.

Fine. Okay. Thanks.

[he sounds surly but apologetic, and hangs up.

When he shows up to Stan's room, he's hugging a disgusting stained pillow and a blanket.]

[Stan's not gonna judge, at least not out loud - he's had some pretty gross things he's had to sleep with over the years.]

C'mon in.

[He steps aside and lets Betelgeuse inside, and the place is exactly as small as promised - not much bigger than an inmate's cabin, really. His room is literally a boat cabin, specifically the cabin from the Stan O'War II. It has a couple of bunks, a small kitchenette with a table, a work area where Ford would have been doing his science, a bath/shower area, and not a whole heck of a lot else. It's small, but sort of cozy in its way.]

You get the top bunk. Bottom one's mine.

[He jerks a thumb up toward it. Betelgeuse can toss his gross bed things up there if he wants.]

[Betelgeuse, his hair a very dark purple, walks in with his arms full of comfort blanket. He peers around, seemingly satisfied with hwat he finds. Boats are fun, he likes boats. Even if there isn't enough room to scramble underneath the bottom bunk.

The ghost throws his things up onto the top bunk and scrambles up after them, only peering out from the darkness of his crouched position once he's made a nest of blankets, like a big weird bird]

Thanks, Stan. Smells like your brother up here.

Yeah, that sounds about right.

[It was childhood tradition that they kept up with once they reunited. Stan was always bottom bunk, even though he was too big to really be scared of falling from the top bunk anymore.

Once it becomes apparent that Betelgeuse's not coming down any time soon though, he leans against the ladder.]

So, you gonna tell me what's actually going on, or...?

[he hides from Stan's sight, snuggling under the different scents of Ford, Stan and the blanket]

What's the point of even talking about it? It's so stupid.

Well, there's the fact that I don't actually know what's going on and I'm gonna just keep guessing until I get it.

[Do you really want that, Betelguese? Do you really want him guessing?]

[suspicious silence. He might wanna hear a few guesses first]

Hm...

You had a torrid affair in the last breach thing with someone who doesn't actually exist and now you're having an existential crisis over it!

[Always open with a joke guess, as a rule.]

[a tired chuckle from where he buried his head under a pillow]

Nope.

You...were implicated in a murder most foul and you're laying low until you can come up with an alibi!

What? Jesus, no, I'd be PROUD of that. I'd brag about it all the time!

Look, I needed something really dramatic and having a secret twin is my shtick!

[Rule of threes means it's time for a real guess though.]

...Something happen with you and Rhys?

A secret twin? But Ford's here! You're the secret, Sexy.

[he quiets down]

Yeah.

And between me and Hange, and me and Jasper, and maybe three was the limit but I'm done pretending to be nice to assholes, you know? I'm a demon. I should start acting like one.

Pfft. He was the secret twin first, back at home.

[But he lets Betelgeuse talk and give him more information than he'd even guessed. But eesh, it feels like a lot. No wonder he's nesting up there.]

I dunno, you're pretty nice to me and I'm an asshole. [Then, proving himself to be a huge hypocrite:] You wanna pick one of those and fill me in?

[he wraps his arms around himself in a tight hug, lying down on one side and breathing through the sadness that wants to crawl up and swallow him]

Jasper told me she hates me. Hange won't say she loves me when I needed to hear it, only 'cares very deeply', which, what the fuck.

Rhys was...okay, Rhys was KIND of my fault at the end. I possessed him when I knew he didn't like possession, but he is just...so...I don't know.

[a dark mutter to himself]

Stupid sexy little baby bear.

I hate this. This whole caring bullshit. It's a scam, Stan. Don't get fooled into caring about people, they just turn around and break your heart.

[his head pokes into view]

And speaking of which! I don't know if you feel the same way they do but in light of this recent bullshit I'mma have to ask you to temporarily shut it with the 'I hate you's.

What? If I hated you, you wouldn't be here!

[Seriously, he's not going to invite someone he hates to crash in his room. That would just make them both miserable.]

Anyway, I'm pretty sure Jasper hates everyone? She hates me too. Hate is kinda her M.O. as far as I know.

[He can't and won't comment on Hange - he doesn't know her well enough yet to say anything that might be halfway convincing.]

Believe me, I know all about that scam. Do you know how much time I've spent caring about people who didn't give a shit about me? 'Cause the answer's a lot of time. Decades. But, sometimes you find out they cared all along and were just bad at showing it.

...Not every time though. Sometimes they steal your car and you get a divorce, but that's not the point. Point is, they probably do care at least a little.

[He narrows his eyes, unsure if Stan is lying about not hating him and being too emotionally messed-up to question further]

You ever been in love?

Me? Plenty of times!

[He's had a long life full of absolutely terrible romantic decisions, and he'd convinced himself he was in love with at least half those terrible decisions.]

Things always went south pretty quick though. I've got pathetic stories for days.

[The worst part is that recovering his memories hinged on photographic evidence of them - meaning that he's exactly the sort of romantic sap that kept pictures of exes hidden away.]

Can we....

[Betelgeuse sighs, dropping his arm over the side of the bunk and watching it dangle]

Can we talk about them while I'm hanging here? I don't know why but hearing about shitty stories of guys falling in unrequited love tends to make me feel better. Or at least less alone.

[Wow, Betelgeuse looks absolutely miserable. Stan sighs too. It's not his favorite thing to talk about, but he pretty clearly needs a little sympathy here.]

Eh, I guess if it'll help.

[Stan parks himself in a seat across from the bunks, a little booth that goes with the kitchenette, so he can actually see Betelgeuse while he's talking.]

Hm...I've got a few good ones. Do you want the time I got my car stolen by my ex-wife, the time I drove some hippie's van into a ravine, or the time I got a little too involved with the leader of a biker gang?

[his eyes flick up, even when he doesn't move his head.]

Whichever you want, I'm not picky.

[Stan shrugs.]

Guess I'll go with my first love then - Carla "Hot Pants" McCorkle.

[Said with deep reverence, as is only appropriate for someone with the nickname Hot Pants.]

We were high school sweethearts, and she was an absolute riot. A real hot ticket! We'd go dancing all the time at this old fifties-themed joint for hours. Then this new age hippie joker Thistle Downe showed up with his guitar and his "compassion for others" and she dumped me like a sack of potatoes. Swapped out her hot pants for bell bottoms and started seeing that jerk instead!

So, I did what any sensible person in my shoes would do - I stole his dumb hippie van and crashed it into a ravine!

Edited 2020-07-04 03:31 (UTC)

[he sighs at the name, shutting his eyes and imagining what she looked like in his head. Betelgeuse is a fairly decent listener and audience member, reacting with exaggeration whenever he can]

Hah! What a creep!

[he reaches down to give Stan a sad high five]

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