one attempt at one-eyed brunch [21/??? artefacts collected]
[ It's been almost a week since ex-mafia!Philip had a very unfortunate event run-in with still-mafia!Dean. The result? His previous Wonderland lives are still intact, but he's down one eye and his arm isn't doing so well either. And that's the understatement of the day
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But an alien headvoice can't hate everybody, right? It just seems a bit counterproductive.
Still. Relationships are important. Dean used to be the guy that shut himself away. Brilliant how he's transferred his freakish codependency problems to other people here.]
Couple weirdos. Another singing teenager. A talking horse.
[You know, the usual. He really ought to get on the communicator more, but Dean hates first impressions to be of him with one eye. Man, he misses being symmetrical.
Dean wishes he could encounter young women in distress, too, but they're in short supply around here.]
I swear, dude, I'm just waiting for this place to turn into a friggin' High School Musical.
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[ Weirdos and singing teenagers seem a part of Wonderland's natural ecosystem, but the ability to play Dr Dolittle has yet to fall into Philip's hands. ]
Talking horse? As in 'stomps its feet, reacts to your words' sort of talking, like that- [ He cringes a little ] -that crocodile from the tenth floor or... or like '"How do you do?", having an actual conversation' talking?
{ Sounds pretty far-fetched, right? Least now you know how I feel watchin' you monkeys jabbering about all day. }
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[This doesn't seem to bother him as much as it should, but he's been in Wonderland a pretty long time, now, and he's seen almost everything.]
It was...sorta yellow, talked with a country accent. It had an apple stamped on its ass. And it was wearing a cowboy hat.
[Oh, also-]
I wish I was joking, man, but it said it's name was "Applejack." Made me really want that cereal.
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[ Philip forces a laugh and rubs his temple. Talking animals. He knows the sentiment is misplaced, but that revelation still feels a lot like the last straw of sanity burning down to a few grains of ash, despite everything that's happened here before. ]
...Did you ever wonder how-- Did you ever wonder why it's us? Why- why we showed up here and not... other people? Other horses? [ Snerk. ]
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You mean in a cosmic "maybe God thought it would be hilarious" kind-of-way? [Dean shrugs.] I dunno. Interdimensional Hotel California seems more like limbo than anything else, 'cept I know I wasn't dead before I got here.
[Oh, well. The wheel in the sky keeps turning.]
Maybe it's just 'cause we're so awesome. You think it's because we're so awesome?
[Dean Winchester attempts lightening the mood, Take 1.]
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{ Can we please just go talk to the horse instead? }
[ Plate empty. Mug empty. Philip's work here is done. This would be the part where Philip retreats to knock back another dose of painkillers, subsequently spending the rest of the day in bed, lacking the focus to read, watch films or do anything else that could be considered entertainment.
He wants to ask if Dean felt quite as miserable after his involuntary enucleation. And if so he really wants to ask when it's going to stop, but no matter the context, Philip knows better than to bring up the injury voluntarily. ]
...Any plans for later today?
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This is an incredibly vain person we're talking about, though. Dean likes his pretty-boy looks: they get him what he wants, and not having one beautiful green eye makes it a little harder to charm people. Things have gotten better since then, certainly, but he's still not happy.
Then again, when was he ever completely happy?]
Nah, not really.
[He stretches and feels his shoulders pop.]
Might wander down to the beach since the weather's warm. I sorta hate the library, and it ain't just 'cause I can't play music there. Damn thing never gives a straight answer.
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[ Philip has been fairly lucky with the research he did, not counting the complete lack of answers concerning his father's book. ]
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Nothin'. Just some stuff about Hell. Demons and things.
[Not like he's trying to figure out what sort of things really go on down there, or anything. Nope. No siree.]
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Philip nods. ]
I... don't even think it exists in our world, but... I'll keep an eye out for it next time I go.
{ What, just one? Seems a bit half-hearted, doesn't it? }
[ ...D'OH. ]
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[So let's not split hairs, shall we? Especially not when the library is being a dick and refusing to tell him anything about specific demons. He might be looking in the wrong place, or asking the wrong manner, but either way his attempts have been fucked lately.
Right, Dean. So stop being so bitter. He lets a weary grin split his face.]
But thanks, yeah. What about you? Anything exciting lined up?
[Aside from popping pain meds like House?]
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[ The conversation was memorable enough. And Philip never doubted Dean; he merely felt it was necessary to point out the potential difference between their worlds, wanting to account for the possibility of an unsuccessful research in advance.
But enough of that. ]
Exciting?
[ Philip actually has to laugh a little her, although the source of his amusement is clearly incredulity.
He can barely move one arm and any attempt at focusing on any form of media for more than five minutes is usually met with pain or hopeless confusion.
Call him soft all you like, but he doubts that there will be any excitement for him anytime soon. ]
Not particularly, no. I thought I'd have a look at that film again... er, Karloff.
[ Translation: Pop pills. Get film. Fall asleep after fifteen minutes. ]
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And exciting? Vicodin is pretty exciting, Dean can vouch for it.]
Yeah, check it out. I'm gonna do the same. See if your Egypt lady is secretly Zita.
[He would wink suggestively, but...well. You know.]
What's her name, again? Elizabeth? Evian? [A beat, before Philip can glare through his sunglasses.] Evelyn, right.
[Dean moves around the counter and claps Philip on his good shoulder.]
Get some morphine and a nap, Elwood.
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[ No glare for that, but there will be an eyebrow for Dean's next suggestion. ]
It's noon. I can't--
[ And there is that flinch again, a sense of violation of his personal space Philip is fairly sure wasn't there when Dean offered a companionable gesture pre-noireness.
He swallows and hopes he can push it down in the next breath. ]
I can't sleep all day.
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Reading Philip is like reading Sam. Something is wrong, definitely, but he's not completely perceptive enough to pick up on what it is.
Although in this case he knows the reason. It doesn't make Dean feel any better being aware of the fact that he's the problem.]
Yeah, but you gotta get some shuteye or you're gonna regret it.
[Talking from experience, here.]
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Needless to add that there are currently certain aspects of the truth that refuse to be bent or shifted in any way, aspects that are still screaming, "HEY DEAN, REMEMBER HOW YOU SHOT ME AND STABBED MY EYE OUT".
That involuntary flich was only one of them. One Philip sincerely wishes Dean hadn't noticed, especially since he can only guess all too well what it translates to in his friend's mind. ]
It wasn't me.
[ Much as Philip loves avoidance as a coping tool, there's an elephant in the room and he's playing guitar hooked up on a speaker system. ]
You attacked Clarence, not me.
[ He turns to look at Dean. ]
You know that, right?
{Really now? When did that happen? Pretty sure I was out for your little mafia party. }
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