Mr. Numbers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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silentspringlogs2024-01-04 08:51 pm
workingthenumbers) wrote in silentspringlogs2024-01-04 08:51 pm
Entry tags:
meeting the family | closed
Who: Numbers, Wrench, and Teddy!
When: Late December, pre-event
Where: The Smiths Household
Open/Closed: Closed!
Applicable Warnings: Will add if necessary!
Following their separation after the fallout shelter, Numbers has spent the last day or so watching Wrench's house across the way. The initial relief of being reunited with his partner had been quickly overshadowed by more questions and a sense of deep dread. There was the fact that he was newly dead. Despite his stubbornness and unwillingness to accept it, it was difficult to think that he had survived after what Malvo had done. And there was also the fact that, for whatever reason, Wrench was suddenly a decade older, worn down by whatever slings and arrows life had battered him with.
He tries not to be obvious about what he's doing--even if he wasn't in Sweetwater, suburbanites have a tendency to gossip when a strange man is watching someone else's house in plain view. At first, he tries watching from the comfort of his house--no, not his house, the house he woke up in--but finds he can't see as well as he likes. So he bundles up and makes his way outside, trying to scope out a better place to peer inside without attracting too much attention.
He leaves out the back door and makes his way through his neighbors backyards, careful to remain behind the picket fences and trees. When he reaches the house Wrench is in, he stops, turns to crane his neck towards the window, and freezes.
He'd just assumed that the house was empty, like his, but there's a woman (?) in the house he doesn't recognize. She has a clear view of Numbers, standing outside in the backyard like a weirdo. God. Maybe if he just stays still, she won't notice him. He tries to obscure himself by shuffling behind a tree, but the movement makes it even more obvious.
When: Late December, pre-event
Where: The Smiths Household
Open/Closed: Closed!
Applicable Warnings: Will add if necessary!
Following their separation after the fallout shelter, Numbers has spent the last day or so watching Wrench's house across the way. The initial relief of being reunited with his partner had been quickly overshadowed by more questions and a sense of deep dread. There was the fact that he was newly dead. Despite his stubbornness and unwillingness to accept it, it was difficult to think that he had survived after what Malvo had done. And there was also the fact that, for whatever reason, Wrench was suddenly a decade older, worn down by whatever slings and arrows life had battered him with.
He tries not to be obvious about what he's doing--even if he wasn't in Sweetwater, suburbanites have a tendency to gossip when a strange man is watching someone else's house in plain view. At first, he tries watching from the comfort of his house--no, not his house, the house he woke up in--but finds he can't see as well as he likes. So he bundles up and makes his way outside, trying to scope out a better place to peer inside without attracting too much attention.
He leaves out the back door and makes his way through his neighbors backyards, careful to remain behind the picket fences and trees. When he reaches the house Wrench is in, he stops, turns to crane his neck towards the window, and freezes.
He'd just assumed that the house was empty, like his, but there's a woman (?) in the house he doesn't recognize. She has a clear view of Numbers, standing outside in the backyard like a weirdo. God. Maybe if he just stays still, she won't notice him. He tries to obscure himself by shuffling behind a tree, but the movement makes it even more obvious.
no subject
Numbers gestures in the house's general direction and continues to sign, but then is cut off by Wrench. He blinks, looking over to him with a slightly startled expression and moves to protest, but then stops. He makes a good point--if they made the effort of bringing them here, why would they allow them to defend themselves?
I also woke up with my gun. And a pocket knife. He frowns, looking unsure. Maybe this is a game? A test? For...whoever is in charge of this place.
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment--he doesn't want to see anyone else talk for a bit, just process the whirlwind of thoughts running through his mind. Numbers hates this. He hates sitting idly in one place, not knowing what to do or who to shoot. He opens his eyes again, runs a hand through his hair, then starts to sign again.
What do we do, then? he continues, clearly frustrated. Sit around, twiddling our thumbs? A pause. And I guess you're involved too, now.
He points towards Teddy, still looking annoyed.
no subject
Still, at least both Wrench and Numbers are signing slow and clear, even if Teddy feels like an idiot -- it makes it easier not just to recognize the words they do know, but to put together the ones they don't from context. Over where, they're trying to see if he clarifies, because the question is really are they all on the same street, and if they are what does that mean -- but Wrench cuts him off with a decisive no sign.
Teddy furrows their brow; Numbers looks equally startled and then a little annoyed, but they're not sure if he's confused about the same thing or not. Is that firm no in response to what Wrench had quickly signed to him, or about finding anything else out? To Teddy's own question about the street?
She knows woke up; she doesn't know gun or knife but the sign for gun, at least, is pretty self-explanatory. Knife loses her briefly because it looks enough like can't, but the other parts, the flow of the sentence, the and, Numbers agreeing and repeating: she figures it out.
And then he kind of shuts himself down, a little. Teddy can't find it in themself to blame him, even if it is a little like telling everyone to shut up. They've felt that way since they got here, sort of. They catch Wrench's eye and repeat back, hastily, an aside to make sure, You -- both -- have your knife and gun? Right? I don't know all the signs.
They add, thinking by talking, Three of us: three guns, two knives, Scout. It's not bad. They're suddenly and uncomfortably reminded of the effect of hunting ammo on human skull, and they take a breath in. Or...maybe it's very bad. Whatever the hell Teddy had expected when they woke up in a negligee in a strange bed in a strange house with a picture of themselves marrying a tall stranger: it wasn't needing an armory almost immediately. The fact that all three of them do have weapons and experience using them doesn't make them feel secure that it's not going to come back up.
Then Numbers is back and signing. The sign for twiddling your thumbs is more of a mime than anything else, and the expression, filtered through Numbers' annoyance, would have relaxed her nerves if the gist of what he says next didn't kind of piss her off and weirdly sting. Teddy rolls her eyes and spreads her hands with a clear what the fuck am I supposed to do about that shrug.
"Me?" she says aloud, signing at the same time with the attendant facial expression. "You two wanna go, go. I'm not..." she fails to find a word, spoken or signed, and just lifts her hands away and up, frustrated and done.
She shakes her head, crossing her arms across her stomach, dropping her eyes.
"I wasn't exactly fixin'a wake up some man's wife in suburban hell, you know," she says after a moment, still looking at the ground. It's rude of her; she knows it, too. But it's not meant for Wrench. He hasn't been anything but kind: cordial at worst. She doesn't even know why the I guess you're involved feels so bad. She's played house with this guy for less than three weeks and she didn't ask for it: it's reasonable for his colleague or best friend or boyfriend or what the fuck ever to be annoyed they've got a third wheel. Her eyes still sting though, and her accent's slipped further. Traitors.
"Not here to hold anyone back," she adds, roughly.
Something about that tone of voice has troubled Scout, and she stands up restlessly next to Teddy, making a grumble-huff noise that sounds so human that Teddy can't help but exhale a soft sigh-laugh of her own. After a moment's inspection assures her that Teddy herself is not in danger, Scout stretches, dissatisfied, and makes a casual perimeter, tipping her head up as she nears Wrench in a curious, slightly soliciting way that Teddy recognizes as 'wants attention but trying to be cool about it'. Teddy rubs her eyes and looks back up.
I'm sorry, Teddy signs to Wrench, and means it, but it's easier to say if she passes it off as about the dog. She really likes you.