Tandy Bowen doesn't have to pick between (cloakndagger) wrote in repose,
Re: Billy/Tandy: the neighborhood
Tandy didn't dream. It was illogical to assume this was entirely applicable but he didn't recall dreaming and so he didn't know if he dreamt of his home every night or not. His REM cycle was undisturbed by homecoming illusions and he didn't actually want, all that much, to go there. He rolled rosemary within his fingers, the spiky prickle of it pleasant, and pulled a (mild) face at the expression of what Billy thought he was into.
"Comics. Books. Mostly non-fiction. I was into constellations," Tandy said with sincerity, because he had been and space was exceptionally cool. He didn't mind the contact. Physical proximity didn't bother Tandy, he wasn't inclined toward it but he hadn't had significant prior experience to warrant over-comfort. But it made a certain kind of logical sense, if you were inherently supposed to be different people to different people, to be different.
"So why did you call yourself Pesha the first time we spoke? Because you wanted distance?" And pause. "If company comes over and it knows you as Billy rather than Pesha, can you leave a post-it or something for the post-nocturnal inevitable coffee run in."
His face creased at Billy's laughter, the grin deepening, grooving his cheek. "Awkward?" This a little incredulous. "That is not the presentation of vampires I know. What was his name?"