(Untitled)

[2020sight]

It's a familiar tableaux: one Titan, at a table, with his boots up on a chair, a guitar in his lap, and a glass of alcohol on the table. (Beer, for a change of pace -- Mythos.)

Tonight, he's picking a rather bluesy version of "Born to Be Wild" on the guitar, and looking a little dustier than usual.

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[risen_from]

From-- oh, somewhere, darling-- there comes a delighted peal of laughter.

"Eppy?"

[2020sight]

With impeccable comedic timing, one of his strings snaps with a violent twannng.

Epimetheus himself freezes like a rabbit in the headlights.

[risen_from]

Aphrodite's laughter pours out into the room louder than ever, and then she's crossing to him on light feet, a wrap dress of fluttery silk hugging her curves.

"Oh gosh, Eppy," she giggles.

"You know your face will freeze that way."

[2020sight]

"Aw, hell," he groans, "when did you get here?"

He puts his poor guitar up on the table, examining the broken string. "Aw, man. Poor baby."

[wordofa_sayre]

He wakes in the middle of the night, unaccountably fevered and desperately thirsty.

He has barely enough awareness to pull on trousers beneath his rough-spun cotton nightshirt before he stumbles barefoot out of the tent and comes to a dead stop.

Rubbing his eyes, Nick Sayre blinks at Milliways.

"... 'm still dreaming."

[2020sight]

. . . Huh. Hello.

"That's a pretty typical response," Epimetheus agrees, muffling the strings with his palm.

[wordofa_sayre]

"Not 'cause I'm here," Nick explains, turning to face the other man without missing a beat.

"Well, maybe because I'm here, actually, when I've been trying so hard to find a way to get back here all this time, and have had no luck at all except bad at managing it -- to just stumble in when I'm not even trying, there's no sort of logic there at all, you know?"

A beat, and with a sleepy, belatedly polite move he offers his hand, accompanied by an endearingly sheepish grin.

"Oh. Hello. It's Nick Sayre, by the way. Sorry about that."

[2020sight]

Epimetheus blinks at him politely, then shakes the proffered hand.

"I'm gonna be totally honest and say I caught about five words of that. How do, Nick Sayre. I'm Ray."

[uquars_gadget]

Helen comes to sit by him without saying anything, hands wrapped around a strangely shaped mug of coffee.

She looks--as usual--a little grouchy, but in a more reserved and serious way than usual.

[2020sight]

"Hello, Joe, whaddaya know?"

He switches to something lower key -- "Blackbird," by the Beatles.

[uquars_gadget]

The look she gives him is slightly startled.

"That's a very broad question," she says, not even touching the topic of her name not being 'Joe'.

[2020sight]

"One day, you're going to learn about figurative language and idiom," Epimetheus muses, "and the world is going to be considerably more entertaining for you."