Dоcтоя Slêêp (doctoring) wrote in goagainthread, @ 2020-08-09 09:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | !thread: complete, doctor sleep: dan torrance, she-ra: catra |
Who: Catra & Dan
What: Looking for some Dick - Dick Hallorann, that is
When: Today, the 9th
Where: Starting at Catra's place of employment, then off on the New Orleans streetcar
Pros of waiting tables included: decent money, instant cash, the occasional free food when it’s sitting dead under the heat lamps, and the employee discount because fuck was the restaurant expensive. Cons of waiting tables included: people, and effort. Obviously she never had these hopes and dreams of working in the hospitality industry, but she landed in the role out of the sheer necessity to survive. Catra grew into it, she guessed. It took a bit to mask her complete and utter disdain for the general public, and eventually she learned to suppress the itch to spit in food when someone was the embodiment of a Karen but, hey. Life was pain. She didn’t think of what to really pursue after this but, weirdly, with Adora having showed up on her doorstep and the two of them rekindling the official girlfriend status, she kinda started to. A little. Like, school? Still an option, probably, but it was expensive and those scholarships came off the table when she went scorched earth at the tail end of senior year. Not to mention she had zero ideas on what major she’d go in at this age. The more she simmered on it, the more she thought it was pointless. Who really knew what they wanted to do for the rest of their life at her age? Catra supposed there wasn’t an immediate rush to figure it out right now, but. Anyway, the brunch shift was nearing to a close and she was ready to get the fuck out at a reasonable time. Usually she worked nights - it was where the money was - but Sunday mornings were an exception due to every posh bitch in the area neeeeding copious amounts of mimosas and Bloody Mary’s and gossip. The restaurant was mostly emptied out midst the transition, her side work completed and silverware rolled and she was on the verge of ripping off that goddamn black bowtie around her neck when, surprise! “Oh, hey? Dan?” Catra blinked those mismatched eyes wide. Her uniform ensemble was black slacks and a white button up for that classy vibe. “You missed the chance to give me a fat tip. What are you doing here?” Living in the Overlook Hotel, for the duration of a long, long winter - well, it wasn’t easy. Dan was remembering that, and the more he did remember the more of a chill he experienced. Uneasy. His bones felt frozen, as cold as it was out with the snow drifts - something was happening, the hotel was crawling with ghosts, and if anyone asked him why he could even sense them in the first place he wouldn’t be able to tell you. Until he came across Dick Hallorann, a cook at the hotel who’d been packing up to leave for winter when he met the Torrance family. He had a smile so bright it could blind you, and his gumbo was spiced to hell and back - he also immediately connected with the young Danny Torrance, finally putting a name to what he (they) could do. My grandmother and I could hold conversations entirely without ever opening our mouths. She called it ‘shining,’ and for a long time I thought it was just the two of us that had shine to us. He explained that there were other folks who had it, some who didn’t know it or didn’t believe it. He talked about how the hotel was dangerous for those who had the shining, and that Danny should be careful. After that, Danny looked at the Overlook in a whole different way, with its high ceilings and the expanse of it all that seemed so lonely - gigantic columns, huge windows; even the garish carpet seemed to accentuate how small and vulnerable Danny and his mother actually were. The odd geometric patterns surrounded him like a cage. In this life, he wanted to find Dick Hallorann. Not much was known about him in their last life however, beyond that he was from New Orleans and spent some time as a cook in the Army too. Regardless, New Orleans was a decent place to start, and Dan wanted to see Catra anyway (check on her, more like) - so he used a teleport and off he went, stopping by the restaurant she worked at to catch her at the end of a shift. “Didn’t miss out on the tip entirely,” he pointed out, tucking a twenty dollar bill into her shirt pocket. He’d be the type Catra bit back a sigh. Seriously, what the fuck, Dan. The dude was too nice. She already suspected he had practically, like, adopted her as if she was some kitten from the pound - so at least she didn’t have to do anything creepy for the extra twenty dollar bill? The money was accepted with grace, anyway. “Ohhh, make sure to fill out a survey on the wonderful customer service I didn’t bestow on you,” she snarked, mouth tipping into a lazy little smile. The bowtie was eventually pulled off and shoved into her purse. “What mission is this, though? I thought we agreed you couldn’t roam around these parts without proper supervision.” She was genuinely curious. Was it another tarot card thing? “Is that you offering to supervise me?” Dan asked, a tinge of amusement trapped in the gravelly question. He thought that maybe he’d be okay, if he was on his own, but on the flip side - maybe it’d be nice to go with someone who knew the neighborhoods better than he did. He was mainly only familiar with Bourbon Street, the French Quarter, and that was generally an area chock-full of tourists. For this adventure, he was looking to go a little beyond the beaten path. But he checked his phone, making sure he got the neighborhood right - he’d done some research, wanting to have a location at the ready for when he got to New Orleans. “Do you know where Holly Grove is?” was his next question. “I’m looking for my friend. Or, well - I saw him in a memory, when I was a kid and scared of the hotel. He helped me with the psychic thing. I wanted to see if I could find him here too.” There had been only one Richard Hallorann that Dan discovered through research, in one of those shotgun houses (based on what Google Earth showed, anyway), sitting on a narrow lot with a shallow yard. Dan wasn’t sure if it was him or not, but he was stupid enough to try. Holly Grove? Yikes. “Yep, definitely do,” she winced because - yeah, not the nicest part of the area. It was outside city limits, kind of parallel to where she currently lived. “We’re gonna have to take a streetcar there, though. It’s a bitch of a walk. I’ll go with you and buddy up.” Less chance of getting, y’know, mugged if they traveled in pairs. Catra shoved at his shoulders, pushing him towards the street (once it was safe to walk across it) so they could make their way to the median. That’s where the stops were, and one wasn’t far off. It was her mode of transportation usually between home and work, anyway. “It’s a shitty area,” she warned, getting her streetcar pass out for the both of them. “Mostly. Some nice spots here and there. You don’t happen to have an exact address, do you?” Catra didn’t even think about the concept of finding anyone from the whole memory roulette stuff. Probably because she had no one she wanted to find. The one other prominent person in them was, well - someone who ‘raised’ her and she had nothing else to say to that cunt sandwich. A shitty area, well, that made Dan feel a little better - or not. Still, he was in this, and he dutifully followed her to the streetcar stop. He’d never ridden on one of these before, but they looked interesting, colorful and historic as they were. Though it seemed to smell like horse manure and urine even more so at this particular spot - maybe it was just the New Orleans smell in general. “Belfast Street,” he said, showing Catra what he’d pulled up on Google Maps, on his phone. It was a tan house with a bright red door, hedges growing out front. To him, it didn’t appear to be that terrible - but he’d see when they got there. And it was daylight, so that was a bonus. “I’m not really getting my hopes up but he was the first person who believed me about being able to read minds. It meant a lot to my five-year-old self.” Ahhh, okay. A visual was good too - would make it easier to spot. Once the streetcar made a stop she led him through, swiping her pass for the both of them. “If we follow this route it’ll take us to that area,” Catra explained, shoving past through the narrow throng because move it assholes (she may have gotten dirty looks but that’s it, bite her), until she found a spot to accommodate the two of them. It was hot up in this bitch. She blew hair away from her face, rolling up her white sleeves until they hit her elbows. “So this dude you’re looking for,” she started. “If he does happen to be where you think he is, what’s the plan? Are you just confirming he’s around? You wanna strike up a conversation?” Then, a pause, “Wait. You can read minds?!” Catra might have shrieked the last part out, and she might have drawn some questioning glances at them. On the streetcar, the humidity seemed amplified - it was that time of year for wet heat too, like breathing in and drinking bathwater, or standing beneath a huge dog and letting it pant on you. But Dan wouldn’t complain about it - he’d just dress for it (t-shirts were key) and stay hydrated. He’d come here for a reason, and was considering the question about what he’d do if he actually found his mentor when - Well, that was definitely a shrill sort of shriek. He looked around, noting that others were staring at them - and that telepathic muscle flexed and extended, picking up on all sorts of thoughts. What the fuck-- Is the next stop-- Forgot toilet paper at the store-- Some were obviously more focused than others. “Yeah,” he chuckled sheepishly, once things sort of calmed down and no one was paying attention to them again. “And some other things too. It’s - I was born with it. According to Dick, it’s pretty rare but he called it the shining.” Catra looked like she just saw someone get diagnosed with an unfortunate case of asswarts. Obviously, she was stuck on the mind reading bit - the fuck? “Okay, uh, you’re not reading my mind right now, are you? Please tell me you’re not.” Think about taxes. Bicycles. Alaska. Adora’s - No, don’t think about Adora’s tits. Cold showers. Chocolate cookies. Bicycles again, for some reason. She scrubbed her hand down her face, exasperated. “Okay, so I’m assuming if you could read my thoughts,” she rephrased, figuring she should restart the conversation with less panic. “You’d tell me?” Well, now that Catra was thinking pretty hard about Adora’s tits... “I could read your mind, but I’m not,” Dan assured. He just wouldn’t mention that whole blip about breasts - not that he blamed her. He thought about Richie in a less than clean fashion pretty much all the time. “It’s - I don’t go poking around in people’s heads. But it’s something I’ve always been able to do, and ever since I’ve been going to Seattle it’s been...stronger.” The ghosts too. If he concentrated, pushed just a little, he’d probably even see them here. Flickers of the dead, flashes of how they died. But he didn’t want to do that. Instead he held tighter to the pole overhead as the streetcar rumbled on, grip going white-knuckled. He tried to think of it as building a brick wall around the center of power - or a house, maybe. Something to keep him locked in when he wanted to be, but there were entrances and exits too, in case he needed to call upon the shining for anything. “Please don’t ever,” Catra sighed because - yeah, there was probably a lot of tits up in her brain, alright. Sue her. There were unpleasantries too, a litany of swear words and unresolved mommy issues to boot. No one wanted to immerse themselves in those. The streetcar pummeled past city limits, entering a more suburbia sort of environment. A little more trees came to view, the ones towering over the sidewalks with the hanging spanish moss and plastic beads dangling off branches from this year’s Fat Tuesday festivities. But then it ventured off deeper into a less than desirable area - empty buildings with shattered glass, frequent sightings of rundown houses, that sort of thing. Take a look out to the left if you want to see two stray dogs with mange fucking, too. She nudged him. “Here’s our stop. We’re gonna have to walk from here. You know this is a crack house area, right?” He probably didn’t but, hey, just a heads up. “The house you showed me didn’t look too shady, so fingers crossed we don’t step on used needles on the way there.” Dan exited the streetcar when Catra indicated it was their stop - he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, maybe a bunch of rundown homes in conjunction with new, sparkly renovations and a few hipster bars dotting the area. It seemed to match his expectations, somewhat, though the rougher parts and the fucking dogs were - admittedly not part of the package. Still, an interesting touch. “I’ll keep my eye out for needles,” he promised, pulling out his phone again so he could turn on the GPS. They were in the right neighborhood but he needed to know which streets to weave down - it didn’t look too far from where they were, which was good. “I’m hoping Dick doesn’t actually live in a crack house...” Things could have changed since he zoomed in on Google maps, who knew. He followed what GPS told him, and before he knew it they were in front of the house. It wasn’t rundown and the real-life version matched the internet version; in fact, it looked like a shotgun that had been renovated somewhat recently. “I guess I should knock?” he suggested, glancing at Catra. “He won’t know me, but - “ Dan kind of wished that he would. Behold, no suspicious needles had been cracked in half under their steps. This particular street wasn’t terrible - Catra had seen a lot worse, ones riddled with waaaay too many suspicious transactions. She witnessed none of that so, hey, silver linings. She squinted up at the house, the beating sun making her eyes look extra light - ice blue and liquid gold. “He probably won’t,” she conceded and switched her gaze to him, arms crossed as she offered a shrug. “You made the trip all the way out here for this, though. You should knock and see if he’s actually there and okay? That’s the point, right?” And if he was there - well, get to know him, or something? Catra could appreciate how sweet the gesture was. Nice Guy Dan didn’t disappoint there. “Look, I’m here anyway if this turns out to be a super awkward situation or if we end up having to throw down with someone. I’ll fight.” “That’s - well, that’s nice of you. Thanks,” Dan chuckled fondly, feeling oddly touched by the sentiment. He hoped it didn’t come down to a fight, though he really didn’t see any reason why it would - if they were chased off the property, well, that was that. No sense in just standing around, however. He went up to the front door, rang the bell, then tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans so he wouldn’t fidget nervously. After a moment or two someone came to the door - wasn’t Dick at all, but an older woman with her gray-streaked hair pulled back into a bun and light eyes; she was friendly enough, even if a little confused - but Dan just explained he was looking for someone named Richard - Dick - Hallorann and this was the address he’d been given. There wasn’t any Dick in sight (so many jokes to be made there). Unfortunately. He thanked her, and went back to where Catra was. A part of him was disappointed but his hopes hadn’t been too high anyway. Guess he had to only see Dick in memories, for now. “If he lived there before, he doesn’t anymore,” Dan told her. “So, dead end. But I just had to know. Sorry you came all this way with me though,” he smiled sheepishly. “I’ll buy you another po’boy to make up for it if you want?” Oh. Catra felt the phantom touch of cat ears pressing into her head - that’s what they would have done, she realized, in show of disappointment. Instead her nose twisted up and the corners of her mouth dipped down into a frown. Well, fuck. She was actually hoping Dan would get to see the dude. “I’m the one who invited myself onto this journey,” she reminded, the frown changing into a smirk. “Sorry it wasn’t what you hoped for. Maybe he’s around but just not - here? Probably upgraded into a better area of the city if he knows what’s good for him.” Or, maybe he was dead but that wasn’t a possibility she wanted to bring up. She sincerely didn’t want to take a flaming dump on his mood. A small pat pat was bestowed on his shoulder. She wasn’t a touchy-feely sort of person - this was decent for her. “You can come over if you want and we can order something? Maybe I can try putting my online detective skills to the test. I am but a youth, you know. We’re good at internet stalking.” “That sounds good,” Dan agreed, and he had to admit he appreciated the offer - because going back home to LA, with nothing really to show for his trip to New Orleans, seemed depressing for some reason. “We can order whatever you want. And maybe you can teach me a thing or two about internet stalking.” He’d just used the Google, after typing in Richard Hallorann and clicking on a few of the search results, but there might be other methods. Dan was definitely open to learning new things. “Back to the streetcar then?” he canted his head in the direction they’d come from. It’d be nice to spend time with Catra, anyway. He’d never say no to that - they lived in different regions, and it wasn’t like they could just wander to the other’s house very easily. So when he thought about it, his trip out here was pretty damn successful after all. “Nahhhh, screw the streetcar,” Catra hummed, whipping out her phone - her nails went all clickety-clack against the screen. “I’m getting us an Uber. It’d get here quicker than the next streetcar stop, I promise you.” And if she could avoid being in a narrow space in a crowd of people that had no choice to invade her personal bubble? It was a plus. “Besides,” she glanced up from her phone once the Uber was requested. One minute away. “Adora will be glad to see you anyway. She likes you.” Either way, it’d be a good impromptu visit. |