[for Homestead residents]

[remnantofjoseph]

He'd woken up hung over and alone, rolled over to the strangely cold side of the bed, and wondered why he was still wearing his clothes from last night, his fake leg, his one shoe.  He managed to change his shirt, before the lift and pull of the chain around his neck reminded him--Gene's tags clapping back against his chest and his own in his

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[broken_brushes]

When I knocked, it was mostly because I didn't want to accidentally walk in on Joe Toye naked or something equally horrifying, because I figured he'd probably tell me to go the fuck away or maybe throw a shoe at me or something. I imagined him having a whole pile of extra shoes that he kept just for that purpose.

"Hey," I called, slouching against the door, a basket looped over one arm. "I know I'm probably the last person you want to see, but you might as well let me in, because I'm not going away."

[remnantofjoseph]

Skin crawling with night-sweat and the continued lack of activity, he forces himself up, grabbing the crutch again so he can let her in, rather than just tell her it's open. "There'd have to be a first person I want to see for you to be the last," he rasps, dragging himself back on the crutch to give her some space to enter through. "Last person I expected, maybe." Not completely true--the last person he expects right now isn't exactly in the house anymore. The door sounds especially sharp when he closes it behind her, leaning sullenly on the crutch like he doesn't care if it keeps him up or not, and if he's trying not to scowl at her, he only manages to look tired in its stead, for all the sleep he's gotten.

[broken_brushes]

"You look like shit," I announced as I strode in, because I couldn't see the sense in being gentle with him. It wasn't as if he was ever particularly gentle with me. I picked a pair of dog tags up off the chair, looked at the name printed on them, briefly arched a brow Joe's way, and then sat down with the basket in my lap.

"You missed class today," I said as I began rifling through the items inside, as if he didn't already know. "And don't even bother glaring at me, I'm immune. Come over here and eat something."

[remnantofjoseph]

"I'm not trying to," he offers, hunger exacerbating his natural disposition, guarded and taut enough on a full stomach. It would be easier to take the time to put his leg on, but he's all the more used to the crutch, moving over to lean against the wall nearest to her. The tags in her hand draw his gaze, a faint snort, "He threw them at me," pulling Gene's tags through his own collar with something like a smile. At this point, he's almost impressed with the whole thing, how thoroughly it hurt and everything it must have taken for Gene to do it. He'd be first to admit that he didn't know Gene had it in him.

[guinea_trap]

Bill pounds on Joe's door, and walks in without waitin' for a reply. Not like he's gonna find Joe in the middle of somethin', as put off on sex as the guy's been lately and as mopey as he been since that party.

"Hey, ya lazy bastard. Get fuckin' up already," he says, sittin' down heavily on the bed by Joe's legs, sweaty from a morning workout. "Ya smell so bad even Doc moved out."

[remnantofjoseph]

It's disconcerting in the moment, to look down his own length and see Bill sitting in the space where his shin would be, but he's distracted by the greeting, by how impossibly clueless Bill is--how effective the lie had been, coupled with the already firm denial they all have. They believe what they want to, he knows, that's what makes lying the easy way out.

Not that it got him out of a damn thing, shut in his room like someone had died, like there isn't something he can do about it all. "That ain't why he left," he admits, though stating the obvious isn't the best way to move toward honesty. It's a start, at least.

[guinea_trap]

"Yeah, how come then?" Bill asks, pokin' at Joe's side like a kid fascinated with some kinda lethargic animal. He was thinkin' Joe was sick, but he don't look feverish.

[remnantofjoseph]

Joe grunts at the attention, rolling onto his side enough to knee Bill in the back, languid and slow with his sullenness as he turns over to sit up against the wall, taking his time. "'Cause he's pissed as hell at me."