WHO Leon Orcot & Colt Vahn •
WHERE Near Morningside •
WHEN Early June
Colt and Leon smoke and chat life post-Murder Mansion.
WARNINGS Swearing, smoking
Colt Vahn was smelling like a combination of garlic and a cologne people’s grandads probably wore, being a relic from the 1960s who worked at an eldritch pizzeria in the forest. It was, as the youths would say, a whole-ass vibe as he cheerily headed down main street Vallo, a jacket slung over his shoulder as he whistled some old melody. Colt didn’t give a fuck much what people thought of him; he was way too old to do anything but do exactly what he wanted to do. Luckily, it looked a lot like confidence on him.
He was about to turn the corner to head to Morningside when he saw a familiar head of blond hair. “Hey there, Orcot,” he said, heading over with a warmth that wasn’t feigned. “How’s life treating ya?” Leon had been one of the people who had saved his ass back at Dorsey’s house, and he wasn’t going to forget that. That kind of action got you free garlic knots for life.
These days, Leon spent most evenings at James’ place. They’d talked about moving in together, finding their own place sometime in the future, hopefully the near future, but for now, they technically had their own places, and Leon would be lying if he said he didn’t sometime enjoy just coming home to his own place, tossing on some music or bad TV, and downing a few beers.
“Vahn,” Leon greeted him, grinning. “I haven’t been doing the Groundhog Day thing with a bunch of cannibals, so I’ve got no complaints.” In fact, Leon was doing remarkably good, better than he had been in a while; he and James had been working on his mind, and he’d managed a conversation with a cat this morning, and it wasn’t until the barista at the coffee shop asked if Leon was sure he wanted to buy an espresso for the feline that Leon realized he was talking to a stray and not just some down-on-his-luck catman.
“How’ve you been? You still working at that creepy Italian place?”
“Heck yeah, gets a little creepier every day,” Colt confirmed with a grin, not put off in the least. Honestly, weird was more familiar than normal at this point; the Italian restaurant was his speed, and he didn’t have to worry about getting shot there. “Really loving the lack of cannibals, like you said. It’s nice, real nice. You still with the defense team?”
He’d considered it. Really had. Colt was a military man, through and through, and he wasn’t going to rule it out now. But he was ready for a change, ready to use his hands for something that wasn’t violence. Still… he was curious, a little envious. He gestured to a nearby bench and sat.
“I guess when Aleksis’ house of horrors is your normal, the odd pasta-eating eldritch horror is nothing.”
He took a seat next to Colt and fished his cigarettes out from his denim jacket (which he wore over a penguin t-shirt). He presented the open pack to Colt, a silent invitation to take one, before he took one for himself.
“Yeah, still doing the defense. It’s good work. Pretty lowkey, most days, and they let you pick up extra shifts when you need them. It’s probably about the only work I’m cut out for here anyway. I’m handy, but I think I’d go nuts if I just went around all day fixing people’s junk.”
Even the defense teams… It was nice, getting outdoors, walking around, helping people who needed it. It kept him busy. But his time in the murder mansion had brought back some sense of purpose that he hadn’t had since he’d given up trying to find a way back home, and a sense of accomplishment he hadn’t felt since he’d been solving murders in LA.
He was pretty sure that wasn’t what he’d been supposed to take away from that experience.
Colt accepted a cigarette with a grateful nod - he’d quit a few times now, but that last run at Murder Mansion had ended any ambitions for a good long stretch. “That kind of work’s good for that,” he said, his voice warm as he thought about the early days back with Lila, when he had a reason to get up in the morning and a steady paycheck. “Been thinking about putting my name into the extra pool, in case shit hits the fan. But…” he shrugged. “It’s nice having a job that’s not terribly demanding. The folk at the pizzeria, they’re weird, but hell, so am I.” He had no illusions about that, at least. People made their decisions as to what they wanted out of Vallo. Colt was too much of a mess to really pass judgment on whatever those decisions were.
He took a drag of the cigarette, glanced back at Leon. “You’re with… what’s his name. James, right? One of the locals. I’ve seen him around.” Colt didn’t know James, but he was an ex-head of security. Checking up on people he liked and the people they knew was old habits.
“You should do it. The reserves aren’t too bad, and if you’re anything like me, you’d end up getting mixed up in the next big thing whether you were getting paid to or not. Might as well get a paycheque along with it.” He frowned a little, taking a drag from his cigarette.
“And yeah, James is my boyfriend.” He still got a little kick out of saying the word; he’d had relationships before, but none that had been so good or had lasted so long. “It’s funny. When I first showed up here, I was hellbent on getting out of this place, and somehow I managed to wind up dating someone born and raised here. At least I don’t have to worry about him disappearing on me.”
“You did good,” Colt agreed easily. He had yet to be burned by people going home, but he figured it was only a matter of time. Colt wasn’t good at staying aloof, and even if a lot of his romantic relationships were shallow, he still liked people as a whole. “Sometimes when things are a clusterfuck, all that’s left to do is put down your tent and give a middle finger to bad luck.”
He took a drag, glanced down the street. “No one from your world has showed yeah? None from mine.” Probably went without saying that was a good thing. Mostly.
Leon grinned sheepishly, rubbing the underside of his nose with his index finger, embarrassed. He couldn’t deny that he had done good. He’d gotten lucky, somehow, which was a shock on multiple levels. Lady Luck had never had a soft spot for Leon back in his own world.
“If your world’s filled with jackoffs like the assholes at that party, then I’m not complaining.” He frowned. “Though, I guess they can’t all be bad; you seem alright. But no, no one from my world has shown up here either. Probably for the best.”
Leon and D’s relationship had always been complicated, but even if it hadn’t been, he didn’t think the D quest to wipe out humanity would go over so well here. And Chris… well, Chris had always been better off without Leon, and Leon figured he was probably the last person Chris wanted to see anyway.
“It’s all right,” Colt said, exhaling smoke into the air, and shot Leon a grin over his shoulder. “I like meetin’ new people.” It was the kind of line (and the kind of look) that he deployed with great, flirtatious ease, to the point where he gave a sigh and laughed. “Damn, I gotta keep my material for people who aren’t all in happy couplehood. I keep forgetting; I don’t get a do-over every couple of hours.” He was still smiling, just a little, but his eyes flicked more serious. “There ever been any kinda loop like that before here that you heard of? I know people go missing, get kidnapped by random dimensions from time to time.” Colt wasn’t really wanting a repeat of needing to be rescued from the Void by friendly Vallo locals any time soon.
Leon flushed; happy couplehood or not, it was easy to fluster him. He was pretty sure that has been one of the things that had drawn James to him in the first place. But he frowned at Colt's question, looked up as if to think, and took a drag of his cigarette.
"No, I don't think so," Leon said. "Not that I know of at least, not with loops. There's been some fucked up time things in the past. People getting sent to Ancient Vallo and whatnot, but if there's been any freaky-deaky Groundhog Day shit, then I haven't heard of it. I tried looking into the dimension hopping a bit back when I first arrived."
Back when he'd been desperate to find any way home and had kept running into dead ends.
"Obviously I'm no expert, but…" he shrugged, "I think your Cannibal Frat House was one of a kind."
Colt nodded, having no idea what Groundhog Day was supposed to signify (he was way behind on his movie watching), but pretending he did anyway, because that wasn’t the first time someone had made that reference to him.
“Well thank fuck for that,” he said, hoping Leon was right about all that. It wasn’t an experience he was eager to repeat (again), and it wasn’t something he hoped happened to anyone in Vallo ever again anyway. Colt didn’t like his shit causing other people to suffer. Bad people, sure. Aleksis people? Absolutely. But Vallo? Nah. They didn’t deserve it. He took a final drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out. “Where are you hanging out after work these days? I owe you a drink. You can introduce me to the boyfriend.”
“Imperial some nights,” Leon said. “James’ sister works there and sometimes she’ll cut me a deal. But usually The Underground.” Drinks were cheaper, and even if he didn’t always participate in the fights, he liked watching them. “But usually The Rusty Nail. Drinks are cheap and the servers are alright.” They’d chat with him when he wanted, left him alone otherwise, which, as far as Leon was concerned, was the most important part of being a bartender. Any asshole could pour a beer or a shot of rum. “I think you and James’d get along too. Let me know when you’re free sometime; I don’t have much going on outside of patrol.”
Cheap drinks and being left alone were Colt’s kinda favorite places. He’d put up with flashy joints when he’d been with Frank, but these days he preferred just chilling.
“You name a time and place, and I’ll be there,” he said with an easy grin. “And I’ll meet your fellow. Rusty Nail maybe? Next Thursday?” He could be free next Thursday. “Long as you don’t care if I smell like garlic, we’re good.” No amount of cigarettes or cologne could cover up the smell of work.
“No complaints about garlic here. Smells better than a few things I could mention.” He’d spent ten years without reliable housing; as far as he was concerned, garlic was practically roses. “But next Thursday should work great. I’ll double check with James and let you know for sure, but I doubt there’ll be any problems.”
Provided Vallo behaved itself and he wasn’t called into work, at least. But it wasn’t like anyone could really plan for that sort of thing.