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Dite's Decadent Delights | Wednesday

Someone was going to New Zealand.

Okay, okay, probably over half the island was going to New Zealand, but Irene hadn't quite expected the invitation she'd gotten. (Or maybe it was more that she'd sort of abandoned hope that such an invitation might actually come her way? She had, after all, already sent a gift up to the school Care of Moose, just in case.)

But in any case, while Irene was already fairly well outfitted clothes-wise for an excursion to warmer climes, she actually might rather need something a bit more basic. If she was going on this trip, with this roommate -- well. She just didn't have enough suitcases.

So today found her posted up behind the cashwrap with a laptop, shoes kicked off under the table and Clementine demonstrating what a good, good girl she was by not chewing on either of them or any dildos from her little bed nearby.

[and I'll have a touch of decorating-for-Halloween SP smack in the middle of the day, but open!]

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It had been a while since Marc swung by this neck of the proverbial woods. So sometime in the morning Marc came in and took a look around at the decor.

"This must be a great time of year to learn things about people," he said. Because why start with hello?

"Wait 'til next month, when I get out the cornucopia," Irene replied with a grin as she glanced up. "The werewolf dick is interesting, yes, but it's got nothing on the carrot."

And then came, like, candy-striped things. It was the best time of year!

"Two different fetishes though, right?" Marc guessed. "Monster vs vegetable?"

Oddly it was the latter he found harder to picture. But hey, no judgement.

"You get the odd un-fussy duck who just likes changing it up seasonally, too," Irene offered with a shrug. "But yeah. Mostly I like doing the displays because it brings people in to gawk at it all."

The corn dildo was also evocative.

"It's a trick to surprise the people who live here, you know?"

Was it shucked or not depending on religion?

"That can't be easy," Marc said. "You've got all those different universe experiences before you even get into the weirdness of this place."

Well, now someone had a new thing to search on Etsy come November, thank you for that.

"Keeps my stock interesting," Irene replied with a lift of her brows that suggested she had seen some shit in terms of what kinds of implements and shapes crossed her desk. "Though now I suppose I'm just asking for someone who isn't humanoid to come in here and put in some special orders to really keep me on my toes."

Sidon, she continued to have so many questions about you from afar!

"Could could corner the market for that here on Earth," Marc pointed out. "I should be asking to get in on the ground floor with investments."

"I'm not sure how much of Earth is actually ready for that," Irene admitted skeptically, but she was thinking about it all the same.

The way she'd be able to sell tentacle-y things based on hentai spec alone seemed awfully promising, not to mention the abundance of self-published monster erotica that she'd found.

Maybe this was how Chuck Tingle got his start?

"Only one way to find out," Marc said. He leaned against the counter to make himself comfortable. "So how are you doing?"

You know, probably.

"I'm excellent. Going to New Zealand next week," Irene shared, though her excitement over the trip had very little to do with the destination, honestly. "And you? Settling into the new place all right?"

"Doing good on our side," Marc said. "Boarding house side is almost fully furnished. Dwight did some great work there. All the residents are - yanno, it's here."

So unique. Especially Gonzo.

"But nobody's started any shit so that's nice," Marc said.

"Dwight does excellent work, as a rule," Irene replied with a firm nod and a glance towards her own light fixtures. "If you need any metalwork done, I can recommend a blacksmith, too."

Subtle, Adler.

"But really -- are you expecting shit to be started?" she wondered, perking up in interest at the prospect.

"Making sure people live there who fit the place," Marc said. "Understand it's not a normal building and are okay with it and don't try to fuck with it. As for some folks around town - "

Marc shrugged. "Some I get it, some it's their loss. It's a nice place actually."

And Marc wasn't just saying that because a sentient building meant his weapons locker was really secure, even from Steven.

Irene frowned, closing her laptop and steepling her fingers as she considered a response. She'd gleaned quite a bit as an avid radio listener, but both Watts and Steven had seemed fairly delighted when she'd seen the pair of them, and it wasn't as though she didn't think Marc recognized a threat when he saw one....

"Well, as long as you're not keeping it a secret what happened in August, I don't know that there's much anyone could object to, tenant-wise?" she offered. "Put it on the credit check form before they sign the lease, you know? Good way to weed out anyone who might...try to fuck with it."

Or, really, might object to latently finding out they were living in something of a special house.

"That's what I've been doing," Marc said. "Nobody can say they didn't know what they were getting into."

Also he was talking to people. If you could imagine.

Of all things!

"Might get a little trickier if the Detective and Steven want to throw a party or something," Irene offered, scrunching her nose a little. "A waiver seems like overkill, but -- something. Though I suppose everyone in town does know, now, that your house has a little personality of its own. Think it might just be a new idea to a lot of people."

Herself included, actually! Haunted dwellings were one thing but sentient houses were quite new to her, even after years in Fandom.

Marc sighed at that. "You know Steven wanted to. He was thinking of doing an open house kind of thing. Show off how it's a good place now. Maybe throw in a party for Watts since the one they were gonna have back in August didn't happen."

Marc knew Irene had gotten an invitation to that original birthday party plan. Not even he would be so rude as to mention there'd been one before if she hadn't been included in it.

"But some people love talking shit so here we are."

"I did wonder whether his birthday would ever be rescheduled," Irene admitted, with another little wince. And then, another pause, and a little anxious, thoughtful drumming of her nails against her computer. "Are these comments not originating from people who had experience with the house as it first appeared? I'm not sure I can really fault them for not wanting to go back inside."

Irene understood pretty well from her own separate, firsthand experience that when a place had given you nightmares, those tended to stick harder than any impression made in the light of day.

Marc waved that off. "No, that I get. These are people who think it's their business to backseat how things were handled, or just talk shit when they weren't even involved."

Now Marc shrugged. "I think they can go fuck themselves. They don't like the place that's fine, they're not welcome anyway. But you know Steven. He takes it personally. Especially if it's coming from people he thought were friends."

To say nothing of how protective Steven was of Watts but that wasn't Marc's business to share.

Well, trauma didn't tend to stay within neat lines or pay much attention to conflicting allegiances, in Irene's experience.

"You don't think it's valid for your average bear to be a bit...wary, after what's been said and reported?" Irene suggested skeptically. "Not just on the news but -- you know, people talked about what happened to them after they came out."

Not to Irene, no, but she was at least well-acquainted with one person who she suspected would probably burn that place to the ground herself if people didn't actually live there, just to be extra-safe as far as these things went.

"Wary is fine," Marc said. "I've got no problem with that."

As for that person, Marc gave her opinion on anything the exact amount of respect she had earned.

Well, given that she was a High Queen and wildly powerful, Irene did tend to give Margo's opinion (and temper) a bit more respect and attention. And it was, after all, only a suspicion.

"It's when the wariness gives way to actual opinion and formed thought based on what their friends have told them?" Irene prompted, one brow arching up skeptically.

Marc had definitely not been thinking of Margo. Margo was fine. Little as he knew her, Marc didn't mind her at all.

"Not really sure how wariness isn't the same as thought," Marc admitted. "The problem is when there's no chance to earn the trust. Steven's tried. He gets that it'll take time. You know him, he'll put the work in for years if he has to. But when people he considered friends treat him like he's an idiot who doesn't know what he's talking about, he's at a loss."

So it was just the people who had been prompted to voice their very severe doubts concerning this living situation to Marc -- or, rather, Steven -- who were on the shit list? Got it.

"That does sound like it would quite poke at some of his sore spots," Irene replied, but she wasn't quite...swayed entirely there. She was more inclined to think that Steven needed to put himself in the shoes of the people the house had wronged -- and possibly, more to the point, their now-righteously-angry loved ones. "Might be different if it was just -- well, you and Steven, and maybe Watts, who were required to put in this theoretical work, right?"

It was a huge ask to demand that people not need any time to adjust, or to not allow them their skepticism even if Steven was the unfortunate target as the house's advocate.

Edited 2023-10-12 20:26 (UTC)

No one was being asked to not have time to adjust or to require their trust to be earned. Needing time to adjust was perfectly understood. Trust needing to be earned was perfectly understood. People could take years for that if they needed to and if they never wanted to that was fine too. Steven especially did not lack empathy for those affected by the House and that would be true even if Watts hadn't been one of those people.

"I've told him to just leave it be," Marc said. "If they want to come around or not that's up to them."

It certainly did not seem like that courtesy was being extended to everyone. Some people had apparently not earned the respect that afforded them this grace.

And maybe Steven did not lack for empathy, but -- well. Maybe he did lack for reflection on how well that empathy was being communicated, if he was being so universally misunderstood?

"Probably for the best," Irene commented. "Seems like one of those things where it might be a bit difficult to change minds, at this point."

And lo, here came Irene's usual roommate to see what was going on.

And waving, smiling, and heading to pat Clementine on the head, because while she wasn't a cat, she was still fairly cute.

Well hello there, usual roomie. Clementine panted happily, like the beautifully slobbery mess of wrinkles she was, and Irene idly wondered whether Amaya would object to her being brought along instead of boarded.

But then they might have to bring the lobsters as well, and -- no. Better not.

"Jon," Irene greeted him with a bright smile. "How are you today? Ready for a trip across the world?"

If not, it was okay; they had almost a week. Irene was just excited.

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Dite's Decadent Delights | Wednesday

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