Part Two: The Dinner

[lestercraft]

Who: Arthur & Helly Lester and anyone who actually goes for the invite
When: Evening of Jan 29th
Where: The Lester Household
Open/Closed: Open! Come one and all from Haven Street.
Applicable Warnings: Discussion of January events, mass conspiracy (it's us, we're the conspirators)


It's even odds, he thinks, whether people thought he was off his rocker in making a post like that, or if people would believe he's actually trying to contact people the only reasonable way he knew how. It was certainly much faster than trying to contact people individually, especially in this weather, and hopefully between himself and Helly that they've met enough people to get a decent turn-out.

The more they can learn about this place, the more they can trust each other, the better. Right now, trust is all they have.

The lower floor of the house is well lit, even if all the windows are curtained and shut, and there's a record playing in the lounge, audible from outside - something jazzy and dated by the standards of the time, but a bit of Hoagy Carmichael and Billie Holiday is settling his nerves, if nothing else - and the kitchen is... sparse, clearly underused but for the stack of mugs by the sink, but with some effort the blind leading the blind he and Helly have at least put together a salad for people. Theoretically they'll be bringing their own food too, make it at least ostensibly a potluck.

Comments

[lestercraft]

This is probably the only time Wrench will ever see Arthur without a cane; with more people in his house he's more awkward, ghosting closer to the walls with his left hand outstretched, enough to find it so he doesn't have to bump into anyone, but there's a level of confidence born obviously from familiarity that he doesn't seem particularly worried.

He does take a moment to step into the kitchen, though, obliviously passing Wrench by on his way to the kettle.

[wwrench]

It would be rude not to say hello to the host, and even ruder yet not to let Arthur know he's in the room. The other man looks like he's on a mission, though, and Wrench hesitates to interrupt that. Of course, stalling means he's lost the best window to approach, and as he watches Lester at the stove he waits for an opportunity that he hopes won't startle the man into burning himself.

Footsteps shuffling more than he'd normally walk, Wrench squeezes Arthur's left shoulder and taps the back of his hand, just like they practiced. With the other man's hand atop his, he takes the chance, thinking a half-salute for hello will probably explain itself.

[lestercraft]

The sound of running water isn't enough to distract Arthur from the sense of someone coming up behind him - someone obviously wanting to be heard, judging by the footsteps - and the limited options of that means that when he does feel the hand on his shoulder he only startles a little bit, a jump rather than a yank away, and he settles immediately with the touch on his hand, a deep breath easing his nerves.

"Hello, Wrench." He knows the words are useless but it still feels better to acknowledge him, half-turning to face the man properly (and feeling rightly cowed with how this leaves him half backed into a corner by the sense of the man's bulk). But he pulls away so he can get his notepad out; he's still on the same one but it's getting thinner now, some of the pages torn out and missing as he starts on a new one.

Thank you for coming.

[wwrench]

It certainly doesn't lend itself to the casual atmosphere they're all trying to cultivate if Wrench backs Arthur into his own kitchen counter. Recognizing how little room his approach has left the man to settle himself somewhere that isn't directly in front of the tap or alongside the range, he takes a step back and lets the other man get his bearings or finish his task. Wrench wonders if maybe he could learn how to whistle instead. Not that he hasn't tried. Whatever his tongue and teeth are supposed to do is a damn mystery to him, but it'd be worth it to take a second run at it if it meant not startling Arthur with his reach every single time.

Never skip a chance to snoop. He doesn't try to mask his smirk, hoping the quiet puff of air might be proof enough that he's just teasing. In case it's not, Wrench waggles his fingers against the man's palm like a flutter, almost like a tickle. Sure, he might open a few medicine cabinets if he gets the chance, but he'll say it's all in the name of learning as much as they all can.

Saw your message. Texting worked?

He could wait and see if Numbers arrives. Hell, he could drag Teddy in here and subject his so-called "wife" to similar. But Wrench and Arthur have managed so far. He's just interested in knowing if the new technology leads to an expedited way.

[lestercraft]

He can take the flutter for what it is, and it gets a soft huff of amusement that's almost a smile out of him, despite the circumstances he's been trying to set up. He's certainly in no position to throw stones.

But when he's asked about texting - well, first he has to frown about what the fuck that word means, before realisation visibly clicks and he makes a face.

Had to dictate to Helly. Which is less than ideal, in terms of his own ability to control it, but he deeply appreciated the effort she was putting in to his accuracy. Phone can transcribe me but it sounds awful. Because he stammers and pauses at weird times when he's thinking. Easier to get help than bother with that.

[wwrench]

Wrench can see the dissatisfaction on Arthur's face long before the man has finished composing his next statement, and he's nodding along as though he knows what's going to be said. It's a frustration he knows all too well, the kind that's tempered by gratitude and multiplied by a sense of not wanting to have to feel grateful. Wrench taps on the back of Arthur's hand twice, a gesture of unspoken agreement.

Got it. Just thinking if I type and you listen.

He's not considering the possibility of a phone hack. If the powers that seem to exert their control over this place can get what's written on the phone without even being sent, that might be the worst way. Which would mean this way is almost the best. It's impossible to overhear what isn't being spoken.

You making tea or coffee?

[lestercraft]

Tea. You can make your own coffee, mugs are all clean. He ought to know, he scrubbed the stupid things himself until they stopped smelling.

And he tucks his notepad away again so he can turn back to the sink - the whistling kettle gets retrieved, very carefully, and sat on the bench so it can shut the fuck up: there's a cupboard over the kitchen counter that he tugs open, pulling down a few containers, needing to tug them open to double check the contents by smell, putting the container of coffee grounds on the counter and keeping the tea in his hands so he can get himself a cup ready.

[workingthenumbers]

When conversation in the dining room hits a lull, Numbers makes his way into the kitchen to complain to Wrench. His expression is sullen, as usual, his brush with Norman apparently leaving him too exhausted to bother putting on any sort of facade. The most he can muster at the moment is keeping his mouth shut and placing himself out of the way.

Walking up behind Wrench, he taps him on the shoulder to get his attention.

When are we going to leave? I feel like we've been talking about the same thing over and over again.

He sees Arthur preparing what looks to be tea just a few feet away, but Numbers doesn't make himself known immediately.

[wwrench]

He's been trying his best not to fuss after the other man, an effort that's becoming increasingly easier the more Numbers seems to be acting like himself. Still, there's something about Wrench's consideration for his partner that isn't the same as it used to be. He's glad he's not running a stitch through the other man's broken flesh with fishing wire, but once upon a time he'd done that with more brutal effort than he pays to anything concerning the man now.

Maybe Wrench really hasn't come to grips with the fact he lost Numbers once, and how fucking determined he is to make sure that doesn't happen again. I thought you wanted to find a way out. No one give you anything to go off of?

He makes more noise when he signs than when he draws his words on Arthur's palm, so surely the man has some idea they're not alone, but Wrench nods from Wrench to the man fixing his tea. You two met?

To Arthur, he waits for the man to set the leaves to steep before tapping his hand. You know Numbers?

[lestercraft]

The heavy footsteps behind him make Arthur bristle automatically, unprepared for such a furious-sounding approach, and the lack of words doesn't soothe anything. He could be talking to Wrench, sure, or he could just be an asshole waiting for him--

Wrench taps him again and he turns his hand up immediately for it, and he frowns at the question, and taps back once immediately. "Numbers, is it?" he says out loud, reaching into his jacket to pull the notepad back out. "If you're going to sneak up on me then fucking don't, if you could."

[workingthenumbers]

Numbers rolls his eyes. Nothing useful to me.

He's about to add another annoyed response when Wrench gestures to Arthur--then, he raises an eyebrow when Wrench moves to trace letters against Arthur's hand.

He waits for Wrench to finish, then replies, Yeah. Met him at the mall. Mannequins. I see you two are friends. He then looks to Arthur, not really bothering to adjust his expression. Why would he? It's not like the man can see it.

"I see you two are already friends," Numbers says flatly, repeating what he said to Wrench out loud. "And I didn't mean to sneak up. I just wanted to talk to my partner."

He pauses, evaluating the man before him.

"You're Arthur, right?" The name was on the invite, and he's making tea like he knows the kitchen, so it probably means he's one of the hosts.

[lestercraft]

Oh, well, call him a liar, apparently. He did recognise that voice, hissing and cursing as its owner was forced to drag him like dead weight through the shopping centre.

He taps Wrench twice with the back of his hand on the man's flank, before he opens back to the same page, holding it low and flat for Wrench to read, scribbling fast even as his voice remains level and dry.

"Yes, I'm- Arthur Lester." # + W in a crude circle. "I met Wrench when he helped me in one of the fallout shelters, I got a bit- I-I suppose overwhelmed." W in shltr 1st mtg. "He's been- remarkably patient, given our respective circumstances." # knows AL blind W deaf.

[wwrench]

Occupying a space at the counter alongside Arthur keeps the man in Wrench’s reach and Numbers solidly in his view. Mannequins? he queues his partner, realizing not for the first time that there’s plenty he’s missed over the last couple of weeks. Neither Numbers or Teddy have been in much of a fit state to thoroughly explain, either. Wrench flashes a glance back to Arthur, trying to put the pieces in order as the man revises his previous assertion and signals that yes, the two of them know each other after all.

He watches between Arthur’s notebook and his face as he passes the message along to the both of them. The writing gets blunted, but Wrench can’t blame him for that. With Numbers finding his way into the conversation, it’s no surprise to see English take its full form. It does cause Wrench to shoot a look to his parter, but he focuses on Arthur first.

# signs. He defaults to the same pound sign Arthur’s written for ease of tracing this into his hand. The simple expression must give a good clue to their familiarity. Then again, Numbers called him partner not so long ago, and from what he’s seen of this town so far he doesn’t think anyone could mistake that for meaning they got matched up somehow on arrival.

Someone want to tell me about these mannequins?

[workingthenumbers]

He lets out a small snort when Arthur describes Wrench as patient. He didn't know how accurate that assessment was. The man was certainly able to keep himself cool, even in the most stressful scenarios. Or even when wrangling an impatient Numbers who just wanted to go, go, go.

"Fallout shelters. From last month," Numbers continues, nodding slightly. "Give me a second--I need to explain the mall thing to him."

Numbers turns to Wrench, a bright expression on his face, apparently excited to regale this story. As he signs, Arthur can probably hear his arms moving

We got trapped in a mall, and all of the mannequins came to life. Wouldn't stay down when shot, hard to kill. Arthur-- He gestures towards the man. --was being attacked when I found him. It took two days for the mannequins to stop and for us to leave the mall.

He pauses, reflecting upon the incident. He continues, though his signing clearly becomes more hesitant and reluctant as he goes on.

Still don't know how it happened. So I...went to go get answers. He visibly cringes as he recounts it. And you know what happened to me last week.

Numbers then turns back towards Arthur, his head tilted to the side.

"So...um." Christ, he doesn't have the smalltalk thing down at all. "You guys seem to have some sort of communication system." For Wrench's sake, he then mimes tracing the palm of his own hand, then gestures between Wrench and Arthur.