WHO: Blue Beetle II (
oww_myhead), Rorschach (
reactionary)
WHERE: Dan's apartment
WHEN: Wednesday morningish
WARNINGS: naaaaah
SUMMARY: Rorschach is in your house eating your food what do you do.
FORMAT: para.
(
life on the outside ain't what it used to be )
Comments 14
It starts pretty easy. After work, him and Dan had some beers, shared vague stories without much detail because they have kind of too much in common, some laughs because Ted shares bad jokes, and the night was over somewhere along the line.
He'd like to go into detail on some stuff sometime; Ted's not much of a guy for secrets, but some stuff is still sore, particularly when he still occasionally receives migraines and tries to grit through it. He isn't sure if it's because of how he died, or because of his stupid ability.
Now the day really begins, early morning -- about sevenish -- and Ted rises, in his boxers, sleepily heading into the kitchen. Wordlessly, he goes right to the fridge, digging in for the milk--
Stops.
There's some guy in a fedora messing around in the kitchen.
Ted squints at the stranger, sticking out his lower lip in thought.
Sighs.
"Dan. Danny, what did I tell you about keeping pets," he says dryly.
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Just then remembered Dan talking about a roommate. This must be him.
But he was scrutinizing.
Eyeing Ted warily, container of finally-found sugarcubes in the midst of being opened, he said nothing.
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Oh. Hey.
This must be Rorschach. Makes sense anyway.
At any rate, this is no weirder than being best friends with a guy from the future, as well as friends with a woman who bursts into green flames and telepathic Martian, as well as just having come back from the dead.
"So hi," Ted greets him, going about to preparing coffee. "You want a mug? I don't mind. I usually make too much anyhow. I'm more of a 'I'll have some coffee with my cream and sugar' than the other way around, know what I'm saying?"
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... No, he was sure this was Dan's place. Who else would have industrial-strength locks on the door (easily broken anyway), various tools spread out over the floor - his ally must hate the lack of room - and a cupboard with about five containers of individually-wrapped sugarcubes?
Well, he had to make sure.
"Who are you."
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