fandomtownies | The Boards, Sunday [All Day]

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The Boards, Sunday [All Day]

Over the course of the last week, Troy had been hard at work: cataloging, examining, considering. Everything that had been left in the Boards was sorted into 'Keep', 'Discard', and 'Oh God what is this?' which was... pretty much what he'd expected for a theatre at Fandom. The office was in some semblance of order. Plans had been roughly drawn up for potential renovations, ready to be gone over with the help of the Evans family architect ("Ryan, why does your family have an architect on retainer?" "... Yours doesn't?") via Skype at Troy's earliest convenience.

So now Troy was sitting in the office, music blasting once more through the theatre. Despite the sub-par soundboard. At some point, Troy really needed to text Jono about that...

[May be a little SP-ish for the next few hours, as I've got a guest who will be heading home some time this afternoon, but otherwise open!]

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Jonothon was cold.

Jonothon was soaked to the bone.

And Jonothon had no idea where he was going from here.

He'd done some wandering through the town, giving a critical eye to the Groovy Tunes, staring at it for the better part of an hour before shaking his head and backing away from it. It was too comfortable, there. Too familiar. Too.. Too raw, and he wasn't sure he could handle anything nearly so bright and comforting as that, just then.

So he kept on. No. Not there. No, not there. Ugh, definitely not there...

Until he found himself on the doorstep to the Boards, getting lost in the music.

"Your grace is wasted in your face, your boldness stands along among the wreck..."

And then the smallest of nods, and a melancholy twist of a smile at the corners of his mouth. That was the first thing he'd sang in years.

That. Was that someone singing along?

Troy wandered out of the office, heading to the front door. Opening it, he blinked. And looked up.

"... Hi," he said, a little nonplussed at the massive, grey man in front of him. Massive, grey, and soaked to the skin. "Can I help you?"

He stepped back, making room for the man to walk in out of the rain.

Jonothon hesitated for a moment, before nodding a little and stepping in through the door, only a little chagrined about the fact that he was dripping in the foyer.

"Didn't mean to interrupt," he offered, after a moment more. "You just have a way with playlists, I think, mate."

Please. It's not like Troy wasn't going to be replacing the carpet soon, anyway.

"Thanks," Troy replied, shrugging. There was something... familiar... about that voice, but he couldn't quite place it yet. "You okay? Want to dry off or something?"

Jono glanced down at himself, wrinkling his nose a little and then nodding before working his rain-heavy coat from his shoulders.

"If you don't mind," he agreed. "I mean, not that I make a habit of stopping in th'doorways of random businesses in th'rain. I might've kept on, if it wasn't for th'... Mumford and Sons cover? Youtube again?"

It had been something like a year since the last time he was here, yes. But half of that was spent in a coma, and the other half... Well. He was clinging desperately to the little things that he could remember from before Weapon X.

Troy blinked. And blinked again. "Jono?" That accent, the voice was similar... "... What happened? Or should -- should I just not ask?"

He held out his hand for Jono's coat. "I've got some towels here somewhere, I think, and there's probably something in the costumes that'll fit. If you want."

Cable's coat, technically, and Jono would have to return it with his thanks as soon as he could afford to buy his own clothing again.

"I think I've had about my fill of costumes for a while," he muttered, not quite looking up as he handed the coat over to Troy, feeling almost naked without something covering his face, "but towels would be appreciated. Thanks, mate."

As for what happened...

"Maybe I'll tell you about it later. I'm not really in th'mood for storytime this afternoon, if it's all th'same."

"Oh, totally," Troy said, taking the coat and hanging it up over the office door to dry. "Just wait here and I'll grab those towels."

He sprinted upstairs, returning a few moments later with an armful of fluffy towels. "The bathroom's right throuh there," he said, pointing. "If you want to strip and dry off or whatever."

[and my power is out. Tiny phone internets ahoy?]

Jono considered that for a moment, and then shrugged, accepting the towels with a bit of a nod.

"Thanks, mate."

A few minutes later, he stepped out of the bathroom again, towel slung over his bare shoulders, trousers a little more dry, since he'd been able to peel them off and wring them out over the sink. He had his shirt in his hand and was making a face at it, wondering if perhaps he should have gone rummaging through the costumes. But even the clothing that he was wearing were handouts. He hardly needed more of the same.

"Mind if I drape this from a doorknob or something to dry? It shouldn't be too long, I don't think. Wrung it out pretty well while I was in there..."

Troy shook his head. "That's fine," he said. "Here, want me to drape it over a chair?"

What? The boy was an actor. Like a little shirtlessness was going to faze him. The chest tattoo was... interesting, but he figured that went along with the storytime: at a later date. Troy certainly noticed -- he'd be dead (or, well, straight) if he didn't -- but he wasn't about to betray that when Jono seemed a little... ... Fragile? No, not quite that.

Jaded, maybe. Uncertain. Guilty and shamefaced. Lost.

Especially lost.

"Thank you." He passed the shirt over, and then sighed. He was borrowing towels left and right today, and still didn't have a job to show for all of his wandering about in the rain. "So... how are renovations going? Hasn't been so long here, I know, but so much can change in th'course of a week..."

Lost. That was it.

"I think I've got things figured out," Troy said, perking up. "At least in terms of what I want to do. There's a basement that's hardly being used at all, and I think it's big enough to build a black box theatre, and I'd like to build a small balcony, and half the place needs to be rewired... And the apartment upstairs could use some work, too."

"Rewiring's not all that difficult," Jono noted. "Mostly it's a matter of making certain that you're using materials that are up to code, and then hooking them all up right. Might need to take bits out of walls here and there, but that's an easy fix..."

A distraction. The conversation had just turned into a convenient enough distraction. He needed that.

"You sound like you know what you're doing," Troy said, giving a bit of a half-smile. "Don't suppose you're planning to be around the island any longer this time?"

The half-smile that Jono offered in return was more than a little bit tired.

"I haven't got anywhere else to... be."

Or anywhere else to go, really.

"I'm actually in th'market for work at the moment. And a roof over my head, but I can't really have one without the other."

That... was actually kind of perfect.

"How about both?" Troy asked. "There's the apartment here -- one bedroom right now, I was going to move into it while I was working on the place, but I can keep staying at the Arms for now. And you could help with the renovations. If we work well together... You did sound like you had some great ideas on ways to improve the way this place is run. Music and stuff. So do the renovations as a trial period, see if we end up wanting to kill each other?"

"If you staying at the arms is going to be putting you out at all, mate..."

There was Jono's dignity, creeping up again. He needed to stomp on that a few times.

"Th'trial period... that sounds good to me, though. I mean... work. I can try not to be too insufferable, even. That'll be a bit of a change of pace for me, really."

"Eh, it's not an issue," Troy said, shrugging. "For, what, another couple of weeks? Until we can get the apartment renovated with another bedroom, anyway, right?

"Do you have anything to move in?" he asked. "I can help you, and we'll get you settled upstairs, yeah?"

It was almost absurd how well Jono was capable of managing a frown, even with lips that reached to his ears in a freakish mockery of a grin.

"No," he said, simply. "I don't have anything."

There was a lot of weight in that word, just then. Anything.

Even the clothing on his back wasn't his. He had no idea if the X-Men had kept his things or not, but he sure as hell wasn't going to be the one going back to the mansion to ask.

"So we'll start with an advance, then, too," Troy said, moving past that as if it wasn't anything. "Ryan'll have that wired over in, like, an hour, or something.

"You hungry? I was just about to order some pizza."

Just like that. A job, a place to stay, money so that he could get himself some real clothing. Food.

Just like that?

"Ryan?" That bit seemed important. "And... I suppose I am."

He'd already eaten today. It was still a bit of a novelty. Even under Weapon X, it hadn't exactly been necessary. Not with his powers. Now, he got hungry. Was hungry again. That was going to take some getting used to.

"Friend of mine. He's basically bankrolling the whole 'let's buy the Boards!' thing for me."

Because he'd had to leave New York in a hurry. There was this whole thing, with two chickens, a hula hoop, and a blender...

"So, I mean, my name's on all the paperwork, but he's the money. Silent partner kinda thing." Troy pulled out his cellphone -- Pizza Planet was already back in his phonebook, yes. "What do you like on your pizza?"

"... Pizza."

Jono liked pizza on his pizza. Brilliant.

"I mean... whatever you're having. I'm not exactly particular about th'things that I eat, these days."

There. That was better.

"So, this friend of yours? He owns all this, then?"

"... Ish? Like I said, my name's on everything. Really, I think he's happy to ignore it, unless he wants to perform here or something."

It was kind of a gift. Because most people are happy to give their friends buildings as, 'Sorry you had to run away!' gifts.

Troy quickly and efficiently ordered two extra large pizzas: one Hawaiian, one works.

Jono patiently waited for Troy to place the order, mulling that over in silence. Right. So, some ridiculously wealthy person somewhere, nothing to worry too much about, so long as the place was in Troy's name and he stayed in his good graces. Probably. He was thinking about this too hard.

"... Just how much room is in that basement?"

Yes, that was the first thing that he thought to say once Troy had hung up the phone.

"... I dunno. Enough for a small black box and a bunch of storage? Why?"

Seriously, it was ridiculously easy to stay in Troy's good graces. Jono had nothing to worry about.

'A bunch of storage' was a very vague assessment, Troy.

"Recording booths don't take up very much room, is all..."

Jonothon Starsmore's delusions of grandeur were taking over again.

What? It was a totally accurate one, too!

Troy blinked. "... That..." he started, looking a bit blank as he processed the idea. "That could be..."

Wait for it.

"Really cool," he finished, grinning.

"... Really?"

Jono hadn't actually been expecting him to like the idea! "It would require more equipment, of course. And, well, it's hardly inexpensive, for that matter..."

He was still kind of stuck on Troy liking his suggestion, yes.

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The Boards, Sunday [All Day]

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