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From the Arms Hotel to the Perk, Tuesday Morning

Another week, another bunch of passive-aggressive messages from the band. They weren't happy that Atton had chosen to stay here for another semester, to put it mildly. He was beginning to feel an odd sense of guilt about it.

But at the same time, they felt... distant, he mused, loitering in his bathroom as he cleaned up for the morning. Like that was another life, left behind. Was it because it was just so easy for him to shed his skin that he didn't even think about it? Or was Atton Rand just such a comfortable jacket, he couldn't help slip back in any chance he got?

You're at ease with tragedy, in the same way a carpenter is at ease building a table or a starship engineer is at ease welding a hull, his therapist had said at one point. It hadn't been a compliment.

He sighed, and grabbed the phone, and called Dane. "Look, I'm not going to say the S-word," he said, "But I'll give you a song."

Every band member pitched in a song that meant something to them and showed something personal for the set. That was the deal. Atton'd never done it. Too personal. Now, he knew it was probably the only way to make good. But what? Metallica was definitely too close. Something else? He stared into the mirror, and thought about-- someone, and said, "Spider, by Oingo Boingo. I don't care that you don't know who that is. Look them up."

It wasn't the song. But it was a song.

He needed a change of scenery.

-

Which was how he wound up at the Perk, clinging on to a heavy triple espresso as he watched the baristas bicker with a guy who'd brought his bees into the shop. He sipped his drink thoughtfully.

"Guess everyone has their own kind of problems, huh."

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There was a shit ton of work to do for a move even if you didn't factor the sentient building into the equation. Or the part where you had to come up with the floorplan for a boarding house and a private home from scratch and then be grateful that the building knew more than you did about how plumbing and electricity worked because fuck knew what a mess that would be if left to the devices of the guys living there.

Then there was all the packing, and the moving, and the eventual unpacking and suffice it to say Marc very much needed a coffee. Especially because that afternoon he was going to be setting up an office like that was a thing he of all people would or should have.

So yeah, coffee. Strong. With an egg sandwich.

And then a nod of greeting towards Atton after he put the order in because at least Atton was on a short list of people who either did not or had yet to bug the shit out of him which made him a rare breed. "Hey."

"Don't ask anyone behind the counter how they're doing," Atton called.

Seemed like salient advice, after everything he'd witnessed this morning.

It was Marc so the odds of that happening had been fairly small, but he appreciated the warning all the same. He was all for advice that recommended not talking to people.

"Got it," he said. "And you?"

Was he asking how Atton was doing or was he asking if he should avoid asking how Atton was doing? Dealer's choice, really.

"Been sitting here for two hours listening to bee and relationship gossip," Atton said. "Please come put me out of my misery."

What? Marc so far had proven himself not to be aggravating.

On the one hand? Bee and relationship gossip tracked for this island. Particularly since Marc assumed Atton meant it was gossip about who the bees were dating. Which meant Marc could more than understand Atton wanting to avoid it on multiple levels, frankly.

He grabbed his coffee and sandwich and then helped himself to a seat by Atton. "I'm avoiding an office so that works. My own, if you can imagine."

Sure he and Atton hadn't spent much time together but Marc suspected the idea of Marc Spector and office was so obviously wrong that it should be apparent even to somebody who knew him for five seconds, let alone whatever time Atton had racked up by now.

Yeah, Atton didn't survive doing what he did for so long by not being able to get something of a read on people quick. So he squinted. "You have an office?" he said. "Didn't know you were a teacher."

His best guess.

That got a bark of laughter out of him. "Fuck no. Lucky for everyone. No, this is a new thing."

Marc wondered how to describe it and then went with, "Housing, I guess."

"Oh, you're a landlord now?" Atton said. "Not really popular in this economy."

Marc made a face to indicate he agreed with that assessment. Then he rubbed his eyes because seriously, what was he getting himself into? "Well mine comes with making sure the building doesn't torture anybody so there's a trade off for the living space."

Atton blinked.

"Sorry, what?"

"Did you hear about the missing people recently?" Marc asked. "The building I'm in charge of is the one that took them."

"And this seemed like a good idea at the time because...?"

Look, Atton had heard about it on the radio, but he hadn't paid that much attention. It wasn't like the island needed help to pull weird poodoo all the time.

"Because option A was sending it off to torture other people," Marc said. Not with any rancor or anything. It was a fair question. "Turns out there was a B: keep an eye on it and give it something better to do."

"Those sound like famous last words to me," Atton said, and took a sip of his coffee. "Personally you couldn't pay me to live in a sentient house no matter what its personality. Anything can break in the head eventually."

"Yeah but I'm already broken," Marc said. "So I guess I get where it's coming from."

Not the part about using horrible skills for good reasons though. Nobody give Steven any ideas by agreeing with that one.

Atton shrugged. "Knowing where someone's coming from isn't going to help you when it's out to kill you," he said. "Or steal your ship and fly around for a couple of laps making fun of you for being stupid enough to trust it in the first place."

"You have a lot of sentient buildings try to steal your ship?" Marc asked.

Because you could never assume with these things.

"Not buildings, no," Atton allowed. "But droids? Yeah, definitely droids."

Marc thought about it. "Those are those mechanical things? One tried taking over the world where I'm from."

"Yeah, and my people treat them like objects half the time and adorable puppies the other half of the time," Atton said. "Those mixed signals are a recipe for a mass droid rebellion one day, if you ask me."

"'Course some people treat humans like that too," Marc said. He made a vague gesture. "Or whatever other species you've got. Where I'm from it's mainly human."

Since mutants were only just becoming ~~legally available to use~~ active where Marc was from.

"I'm from a galaxy far, far away," Atton said, snorted. "Plenty of species. But at least they make sense. Usually."

"What kind don't make sense?" Marc asked.

Again, the guy who was currently going to move in to an eldritch like being which could take the shape of buildings.

"Droids," Atton said. "Sentient houses, I guess. Insane Force beasts living in deadly caves. That kind of thing."

"Fair," Marc said, since he supposed those qualified. "But I don't make a lot of sense either. Maybe that's another reason I'm getting along with a building."

Atton eyed him. "You make 'psychotic building that captures people' no sense?" he said.

"I work for a bird headed god nobody else can see," Marc said, easily as mentioning his hair color. He tapped the side of his head. "And I'm not the only one in here."

Atton eyed him casually. "Oh, is that what's been giving me a headache around you?"

"I give people headaches for a lot of reasons," Marc said, because he did have some self-awareness. "But if you're talking about mind reading or something then yeah. It's a fucking mess in there."

"Isn't it everywhere," Atton muttered. He sipped his rapidly cooling coffee.

"Got something similar?" Marc asked. Not challenging, more curious.

Sort of, except not quite, except it was complicated.

"Nah," Atton said. "Just Force-given powers that make it nearly impossible to keep all of you people out of my head, no matter how hard I try."

Marc gave a sympathetic grimace. He leaned back, as though that might make a difference. "Yikes. Need me to go? Nobody should be in my skull. I don't even want to be in there."

"I'd say I'll drink to that last one, but I don't have anything worth drinking to that," Atton said. "Anyway, you're fine. I just had to kick up the shielding. At least you're not annoying about it."

"What counts as annoying?" Marc asked. "Normally I'm in the obnoxious to asshole range."

"Being judgy, digging into my personal business like you think you belong there, trying to shoot me in the head?" Atton offered. "Just offering some examples."

"I don't give a fuck about anyone's personal life and far as I know you've given me no reason to shoot you," Marc said. He shrugged as he took a sip of his own coffee. "So we're good on my end."

"So there we go. Both good," Atton said, downing the last of his coffee. "You'd think that'd be less rare, and yet here we are."

"Most people are too damn nosy if you ask me," Marc said. "Far as I'm concerned if people don't want their life to be my business that's fine by me. Long as they're not hurting anybody I care about."

"Right?" Atton said, sitting back. "I used to have this, uh. Friend. She couldn't take five steps without winding up involved in something with somebody."

And see? Marc was not asking for clarification on "friend."

"Like in a fight or poking her nose where it didn't belong?"

"Both," Atton said. Not that he would've explained if Marc had asked anyway. "Like, someone's getting shaken up in the corner, or their speeder breaks down, or they're in deep with the mob, bam, suddenly we're in it."

And he'd loved her for it while berating her for it because only boring people were straightforward about anything.

"Gotcha," Marc said. He tried to picture those scenarios. "Not really my thing. I tend to get told when I have to give a shit."

This wasn't entirely true but if it helped at all Marc was lying to himself as well.

Atton snorted. "Easy, huh."

"Simpler," Marc said. He made a so-so motion with his hand. "I've got to put up with a god along with it so I don't know I'd call that part easy."

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From the Arms Hotel to the Perk, Tuesday Morning

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