[Re-Introduction] Titus Awakened, or Search without End

[77th_earl]

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[in_summer_leaf]

Hisoka just happens to be passing the lab, and the door just happens to be unlocked. He hears the banging, and alarm bells jangle in his head, because something is not right about the sound.

He jerks the door open and dashes in. After darting around amongst the tables and various pieces of equipment, he locates the source of the noise: the freezer chest. The lid is cracked; it is being pushed up from inside. He grabs the handle and heaves it up, and looks into the chest....

"TITUS???"

[77th_earl]

Titus looks up from the depths of the freezer, naked except for a twist of black plastic, blinking at the light and gasping a bit. He's all over goose-pimples and he's quite wide-eyed with fear.

"What... what is this place? Where am I?" he asks, flustered.

[in_summer_leaf]

"You're at the Mansion," answers Hisoka. "Come, let me help you out of there!" He offers a hand for Titus to grasp, and will pull him upright, if he permits, and help him to his feet and then out of the chest.

He has goosebumps himself.

[77th_earl]

He blinks, confused. "The Mansion? Whose mansion, might I ask?" he says, baffled, looking Hisoka up and down curiously, as if he's trying to place him (which he is...)

[in_summer_leaf]

"You don't remember anything?" asks Hisoka. "Just a minute, I'm going to find you something to wear."

He rummages furiously around in Muraki's cupboards and closets (not bothering to put anything back), and finally pulls out a set of surgical scrubs, pale green cotton shirt and pants. And a white lab coat. He brings them to Titus.

"Do you remember me? I'm Hisoka Kurosaki. We..." He isn't going to start with his last memory, that's for sure. Toting Titus (or rather, various pieces of him) in a wagon back to the house. "...We were in a play together. You were the star, a Roman dude named Sejanus. I was your sidekick, Terentius." Well, strictly speaking, Paulinka was the star. But surely Titus was a co-star.

[77th_earl]

He's likely hugging his chest and dancing from one foot to another, trying to stay warm (it's winter and the basement is rather cool). But he listens nonetheless, his violet eyes narrowed a bit. But then at length realization and recognition shines through them.

"Yes... I remember it now: there was a man with a rather large nose who directed that performance. You were a companion to me offstage in the drama of life, as well..." he says, digging around in his memory of this place.

"My sister Fuschia... I remember that she came to this place: is she still here?"

[in_summer_leaf]

"Yes, Cyrano de Bergerac. He wrote and directed the play. And I am your friend, that is true. And we have to find Lady Fuchsia, ASAP! She was SO upset when you..." He breaks off. Time enough for the awkward realities when Titus is warm.

"You need help with the scrubs?" He takes the shirt. "Lift your arms, Titus. Here we go, over the head...!"

[77th_earl]

"It is a reunion I did not expect, much less a return to this place. But I would prefer to garb myself in some place much warmer than this room where I seem to be freezing off my skin," he says, striding for the front office. Not that it's much warmer there, either.

[in_summer_leaf]

Hisoka goes running after him, still holding the shirt. "No problem, we can go upstairs to the kitchen! Just stand still for a minute....."

[77th_earl]

He pauses. "Very well," he says, reaching for the shirt. If Hisoka gives it to him, he'll slip it over his head. "I suppose the shock of arriving and the cold left me disoriented for a moment."

[in_summer_leaf]

Hisoka does indeed hand him the shirt. Then he goes back for the pants and the coat, which have fallen to the floor near the freezer. He brings them back and hands them over as well. "I'm not surprised it did!" he says, fervently. "For a minute there, I thought you were going to challenge all past Mansion streakers for the trophy!" He smiles.

Then he feels guilty. He is so glad to see Titus alive again that he is feeling positively effervescent, but to Titus, this isn't a bit funny. "Let's get upstairs. I left coffee brewing on the stove."

[77th_earl]

He'll take the garments, sliding into the coat, which is long enough to cover his thighs, and he'll follow Hisoka upstairs. "I could use something warm to get the blood flowing in my veins once again," he says.

"What...has happened since I was here before? How long has it been?"

[in_summer_leaf]

Hisoka leads the way into the hall and up the stairs and to the kitchen. He pours out coffee and brings ti to the table, and pulls out a chair for Titus.

"You went missing January 8th, and this is February the 29th," he says, finally. "Can you remember anything?" His voice hints that he has more to tell, but he'd rather take it cautiously.

[77th_earl]

He might smile a bit, as he sets to work slipping on the trousers. "Only such a short time? Years have passed since I left this place," he says. "I have traveled far afield in that time: I have passed through deserts and mountains, forests and cities, dank catacombs and glittering towers. I have been imprisoned, kept by lovers too attached to me and friends too fond of my company, but I have done one thing that I sought in that journey: I have kept my freedom." Though a thoughtful note in his voice hints that he is not certain he's done so without cost.

[in_summer_leaf]

Hisoka discretely turns his eyes to the coffee cups and saucers, cream and sugar that he is arranging on the table. Titus has matured. He looks good. With or without his pants.

"This is a new one on me," he admits. "People have returned while I've been at the Mansion, but I've never been present for such a happening. It sounds as though you've experienced enough events to fill half a lifetime!" And he doesn't doubt that these events are real.

He passes Titus a cup of the rich, strong coffee.

[77th_earl]

He accepts the cup, taking a long pull from it, sighing with relief when he pulls his lips from the cup. "That will warm my blood for certain," he says. "Yes, so many things have happened, that they would fill several books. Were I a poet, I would write of them, but I am more an adventurer than a writer.

"It would seem, then that you were given a great privilege, that of greeting someone returning whom the house called back to itself. I had nearly forgotten about this place, but it is not for lack of fondness for it."