[No, they can't give him a room in B-1, they say. Why? Because it's full, three occupants to an apartment as it's been for months. No, Tim is not one of those occupants despite the fact that he has the key in his freaking hand. That key is deactivated. It won't work. It doesn't belong to apartment B-1. It hasn't belonged to apartment B-1 in months. Nevermind that Tim can name the layout and contents of the tea drawer in the kitchen. That just bores the poor clerk, and Tim feels like he's crazy. Again.
He can get a room in the B wing if he's so damn insistent about it and so of course he is and so the next thing he knows he's turning the knob and entering apartment B-3, like this is just some bad joke.
So yeah, sue him; he's a little loud shuffling in, automatic motions having him peel off his borrowed sweater before he quiets down in the living room.
All of him quiets- his steps, the lazy irritation radiating off his expression. He ducks his head a bit in a show of boyish recognition of a mistake. This place is... not barren. Not alone. Not lonely. The excitement is pleasant and dreadful, and Tim's just about had it with-- today. With everything, maybe. It's a lot.
The person he sees next is... not a person. It's a lot. His shoulders tense. He steps back. It's a lot. He wonders dumbly if he's being rude. You would be too, his brain supplies lightly, if you had just been fighting off White Things and then entered the den of]
Uhm.
[He's so freaking tired. You know what? Alarms going off in his head and everything, and everything being a lot and everything, and everything earlier, and all Tim does is say,]
As Tim catches himself, the towering owlbear before him only blinks owlishly in return, intently watching the young man from where they are standing in mid-movement with a floral teapot in hand, just as surprised at the interruption as he is. But he stumbles a little over his own words, clearly too overwhelmed to completely process the situation he's just strolled right into, so Rue does what they can to make it easier.]
Thank you. [Their feathered head gives a gentle little nod back towards him.] And I like your shoes. Quite stylish.
[Oh dear, it's already awkward, isn't it?
With a wave of their wing, Rue gestures for Tim to step inside, all while they turn towards the little kitchen with a swish of their heavy skirts.]
Please come in and sit, my dear. It's quite freezing out there, let me pour you some tea and we can have proper introductions. I assume that you must be my new roommate, correct?
[They talk. That's not startling to a guy who has fought off literal sewer gator mutants and alien gorillas. And aliens. Flesh monsters aplenty. But for some reason (most likely the dampened shock of a rude awakening) it brings Tim to attention more than the hulking mass of the owlbear did. A White Thing woulda just chomped his head off by now. Tim peers at his own shoes-- like he's forgotten what he's wearing.
Like maybe he woke up with knee-highs and during the chaos of finding his sea legs again he just absolutely did not notice. And Malcolm... would probably mention it? But Tim can't be sure with that guy, even after all this time. His brows furrow some and off to the kitchen he's led. Because he's easy like that.
He has been silent for way too long, and it's a struggle to find words. His roommate is an... extraordinarily large... bird. Beast. That's ironic. And yes, most definitely someone's idea of a joke.
Words. Right.] Sorry. [--always a welcome introduction, never one to up the tension in a room, and Tim can appreciate his wreck of a first impression with a lopsided, tiny little thing of a smile. He'd tug at his hair but that feels like something his mother would have scolded him for so he reels in the urge.
The boy makes himself busy folding that haphazardly flung sweater into something neat-ish, looking like every word out of his mouth from this point forward is sincere. (Which is a Christmas miracle to be frank.)
Task successfully completed: his pancake flat ass has indeed found a seat.] Long day. I-- yeah? I was reassigned from-- uh. I was just a few doors down. There was a misunderstanding and, uh. Yeah, I should have knocked. I didn't even think about anybody else who might be here. I'm Tim. I'll knock from now on.
[After only a moment of rustling in the kitchen cabinets, Rue produces a second matching teacup clutched between their talons. Even for the delicate way in which they grip it, it still looks a little comical in comparison to the size of their paws, just this dainty fine china carefully pinched between two finger-length sharp claws.
For their size and shape, the owlbear moves with a surprising grace and elegance, keenly aware of their body and how much space it inhabits, knowing exactly which way to tuck their wings against their side to avoid bumping around in an apartment setting much too small for them. They join Tim at the table, settling gently into their own seat and filling his teacup before it's carefully set in front of him. Between them, there are sugar cubes and cream and a tiny pot of fresh honey, if he prefers his tea any which way.]
It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, dear Tim. My name is Delloso de la Rue, but please, I insist you call me Rue. All of my friends do.
[And then, even more gently, Rue rests a clawed hand against the table between them, not daring to close the physical distance and startle him, but wanting to offer something in-between.]
Tim, this is your home, for as long as you'd like to remain here. Having you here with me will be a delight, I'm quite certain. Please don't feel as if you need to knock in your own home. Now, if you'd much rather take up residence elsewhere or be with your friends, please know that I'll take no offense. But for as long as you stay, know that I won't stand for you tiptoeing around as if you were simply a guest.
[--consider him thoroughly intimidated, claws and paws and owlbear grace be damned, Rue is talking with a conviction here which is. rare.]
No, my friends are...
[There's several things he could say, all of them depressing. Tim takes the cup of tea and sighs despite himself at the warmth in his hands; it had been summer in Wolf Pen, he's not dressed for the New England winter. He shakes his head. Gathers his thoughts.]
Thanks, first of all. I do appreciate it. If it's alright then I do think I'd like to stay here. Like I said, I used to... be assigned to room B-1. But there are some other people there now and I don't... I'm not-- I'm not going to tell anybody they should leave because of me.
[Rue's aim may rarely be to intimidate, but they can't deny it certainly comes in handy at times.]
Ah, I see. [Returning to a place you lived in and finding strangers making home there instead? The very idea tugs at Rue's heart, especially when, by their estimate, Tim looks quite young for a human. They suddenly have so many more questions (how long have you been on your own? how did you leave and then return back to this place? what must be done to make this new space feel more inviting for you?) but they can tell he's overwhelmed as it is. The questions can wait. They'll have plenty of time together in the future.]
Then of course, you shall stay here with me, for as long as you like. I can assure you that I am a neat, quiet, respectful housemate, though I must tell you that my fiancé is over most days since his own living situation is... [A claw taps idly beneath their beak. They so hate to be rude.] A much too boisterous space for me.
[It's been a little over a month and already Rue is unable to count on one hand the amount of times they've been over while the other men of the apartment have been lounging around shirtless or getting into physical brawls in Rue's presence. It's too much.]
But we tend to simply take dinner most evenings and watch television together. You are most free to join us. [And maybe just a touch cheekily:] And you have my word that we won't do anything uncouth in shared spaces.
And, yeah, that's his ears starting to turn red at the tips and this is Tim swearing he's not some perv- he's just like that. Adult that he is (holy wow when did that happen?) and experienced in sh...ared spaces..., he waves a hand in front of himself to feign casualness. Somewhere in Gotham, Stephanie Brown howls in laughter and knows not why.
"It's cool," he says, and what he means is, "that's fine. I keep to my room, mostly,"
unless he's harassing Meredith or Malcolm over seven-AM yoga but that's not a concern here, now. Right? Right.
"and I don't know what department I'll be working in. So I don't know my shifts just yet. I..."
He wants to ask about the fiancé. Of course he does. He feels a swell of suspicion of the man just on principle, like possession of Rue is a thing and he must combat it. That's some serious introspection for later.
Tim tries for a smile and succeeds. Livelier, he gestures behind to the living room. "You wouldn't happen to be big on Monday Night Football?"
Honestly, that little touch of pink to his ears? Adorable. Rue will have to gently tease Tim more later on to bring it out again.
"Please don't feel that you need to hide in your room. I would love to make this space into something that reflects both of us. Though please know, if you would like to have guests over, I'm absolutely capable of making myself scarce for your sake. You only need to ask, little one."
Tim won't have to wait too long to meet said fiancé, though he may be surprised when he does. K.P. Hob is a furry, dog-earred, and fanged goblin of a man, with a stiff military posture and a verbose, rambling manner of speech. And for his size and general intimidation, he's adorably awkward. Perhaps both Tim and Hob can play cutely awkward together while Rue brightens up the room with their easy charisma.
"No!" And for not knowing, Rue looks absolutely delighted at the very prospect of it. "I've never even heard of it! But if you like it, I'd love to experience it with you. I'm trying to step out of my comfort zone and try everything, at least once. That is a sport, yes? I imagine so with the customary 'ball' attached to the end."
He's about to protest the little one tag, much like he would protest at Lieutenant Arroyo calling him 'kid'. It's always a gotcha he knows he's playing into, but habits often override false pretenses of maturity.
But then Rue is chirping happily along and Tim is helpless to hold back the last lingering remnant of fight-or-flight excitability and he's coaxed into a coughing sort of laugh. Aborted sort of laugh. He's exhausted mentally and physically and emotionally and he's drained, he is done.
He just promised Monday night football to a... Rue. It's bizarre. It's bizarre because he understands Jack a lot sometimes. Understands his dad, he means. There's a lot promises being made that weren't supposed to be promises and,
smiling placidly into his tea he says,
"Yeah, football is basically the most popular sport in this country. It's not my favorite, I haven't watched a game in a while. I haven't watched any game in a while."
like he's promising to not set someone up for disappointment. Don't be a jerk, he pleads to himself. Shut this down.
"If we ever catch a game I wouldn't mind explaining the rules and everything to you so it's easier to keep up."
Coming from the duplicitous Feywilds, meeting someone like Tim is just fascinatingly different from all that Rue has ever known. There's just something so naturally genuine in his countenance, even as he's trying to navigate such an unexpected situation. Even this little into their new friendship, Rue likes the young man a great deal.
"Well, I shall keep my Monday afternoons free then. If you would ever like to -" Their big eyes blink over at Tim, watching the way he smiles into his tea. Their gaze smiles back. "Ah, catch a game with me." Look at them! Learning the lingo!. "I'd be delighted, Tim."
Rue settles back carefully into their chair - reinforced certainly, but they still don't completely trust furniture made with the human-form in mind - holding their dainty tea cup carefully between both paws, letting the fresh smell floral scent rise up to their beak.
"I must admit, I've never shared a space with another before, so if I overstep on any boundaries, please simply let me know. I'm quite happy to have you here. I think you and I will make this into a lovely space together. And, if I may be so bold, I'm excited to get to know you."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
B-3, two is company!
He can get a room in the B wing if he's so damn insistent about it and so of course he is and so the next thing he knows he's turning the knob and entering apartment B-3, like this is just some bad joke.
So yeah, sue him; he's a little loud shuffling in, automatic motions having him peel off his borrowed sweater before he quiets down in the living room.
All of him quiets- his steps, the lazy irritation radiating off his expression. He ducks his head a bit in a show of boyish recognition of a mistake. This place is... not barren. Not alone. Not lonely. The excitement is pleasant and dreadful, and Tim's just about had it with-- today. With everything, maybe. It's a lot.
The person he sees next is... not a person. It's a lot. His shoulders tense. He steps back. It's a lot. He wonders dumbly if he's being rude. You would be too, his brain supplies lightly, if you had just been fighting off White Things and then entered the den of]
Uhm.
[He's so freaking tired. You know what? Alarms going off in his head and everything, and everything being a lot and everything, and everything earlier, and all Tim does is say,]
I like your necklace.
[because he doesn't want to be rude.]
no subject
As Tim catches himself, the towering owlbear before him only blinks owlishly in return, intently watching the young man from where they are standing in mid-movement with a floral teapot in hand, just as surprised at the interruption as he is. But he stumbles a little over his own words, clearly too overwhelmed to completely process the situation he's just strolled right into, so Rue does what they can to make it easier.]
Thank you. [Their feathered head gives a gentle little nod back towards him.] And I like your shoes. Quite stylish.
[Oh dear, it's already awkward, isn't it?
With a wave of their wing, Rue gestures for Tim to step inside, all while they turn towards the little kitchen with a swish of their heavy skirts.]
Please come in and sit, my dear. It's quite freezing out there, let me pour you some tea and we can have proper introductions. I assume that you must be my new roommate, correct?
no subject
Like maybe he woke up with knee-highs and during the chaos of finding his sea legs again he just absolutely did not notice. And Malcolm... would probably mention it? But Tim can't be sure with that guy, even after all this time. His brows furrow some and off to the kitchen he's led. Because he's easy like that.
He has been silent for way too long, and it's a struggle to find words. His roommate is an... extraordinarily large... bird. Beast. That's ironic. And yes, most definitely someone's idea of a joke.
Words. Right.] Sorry. [--always a welcome introduction, never one to up the tension in a room, and Tim can appreciate his wreck of a first impression with a lopsided, tiny little thing of a smile. He'd tug at his hair but that feels like something his mother would have scolded him for so he reels in the urge.
The boy makes himself busy folding that haphazardly flung sweater into something neat-ish, looking like every word out of his mouth from this point forward is sincere. (Which is a Christmas miracle to be frank.)
Task successfully completed: his pancake flat ass has indeed found a seat.] Long day. I-- yeah? I was reassigned from-- uh. I was just a few doors down. There was a misunderstanding and, uh. Yeah, I should have knocked. I didn't even think about anybody else who might be here. I'm Tim. I'll knock from now on.
no subject
For their size and shape, the owlbear moves with a surprising grace and elegance, keenly aware of their body and how much space it inhabits, knowing exactly which way to tuck their wings against their side to avoid bumping around in an apartment setting much too small for them. They join Tim at the table, settling gently into their own seat and filling his teacup before it's carefully set in front of him. Between them, there are sugar cubes and cream and a tiny pot of fresh honey, if he prefers his tea any which way.]
It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, dear Tim. My name is Delloso de la Rue, but please, I insist you call me Rue. All of my friends do.
[And then, even more gently, Rue rests a clawed hand against the table between them, not daring to close the physical distance and startle him, but wanting to offer something in-between.]
Tim, this is your home, for as long as you'd like to remain here. Having you here with me will be a delight, I'm quite certain. Please don't feel as if you need to knock in your own home. Now, if you'd much rather take up residence elsewhere or be with your friends, please know that I'll take no offense. But for as long as you stay, know that I won't stand for you tiptoeing around as if you were simply a guest.
no subject
No, my friends are...
[There's several things he could say, all of them depressing. Tim takes the cup of tea and sighs despite himself at the warmth in his hands; it had been summer in Wolf Pen, he's not dressed for the New England winter. He shakes his head. Gathers his thoughts.]
Thanks, first of all. I do appreciate it. If it's alright then I do think I'd like to stay here. Like I said, I used to... be assigned to room B-1. But there are some other people there now and I don't... I'm not-- I'm not going to tell anybody they should leave because of me.
no subject
Ah, I see. [Returning to a place you lived in and finding strangers making home there instead? The very idea tugs at Rue's heart, especially when, by their estimate, Tim looks quite young for a human. They suddenly have so many more questions (how long have you been on your own? how did you leave and then return back to this place? what must be done to make this new space feel more inviting for you?) but they can tell he's overwhelmed as it is. The questions can wait. They'll have plenty of time together in the future.]
Then of course, you shall stay here with me, for as long as you like. I can assure you that I am a neat, quiet, respectful housemate, though I must tell you that my fiancé is over most days since his own living situation is... [A claw taps idly beneath their beak. They so hate to be rude.] A much too boisterous space for me.
[It's been a little over a month and already Rue is unable to count on one hand the amount of times they've been over while the other men of the apartment have been lounging around shirtless or getting into physical brawls in Rue's presence. It's too much.]
But we tend to simply take dinner most evenings and watch television together. You are most free to join us. [And maybe just a touch cheekily:] And you have my word that we won't do anything uncouth in shared spaces.
no subject
"It's cool," he says, and what he means is, "that's fine. I keep to my room, mostly,"
unless he's harassing Meredith or Malcolm over seven-AM yoga but that's not a concern here, now. Right? Right.
"and I don't know what department I'll be working in. So I don't know my shifts just yet. I..."
He wants to ask about the fiancé. Of course he does. He feels a swell of suspicion of the man just on principle, like possession of Rue is a thing and he must combat it. That's some serious introspection for later.
Tim tries for a smile and succeeds. Livelier, he gestures behind to the living room. "You wouldn't happen to be big on Monday Night Football?"
no subject
"Please don't feel that you need to hide in your room. I would love to make this space into something that reflects both of us. Though please know, if you would like to have guests over, I'm absolutely capable of making myself scarce for your sake. You only need to ask, little one."
Tim won't have to wait too long to meet said fiancé, though he may be surprised when he does. K.P. Hob is a furry, dog-earred, and fanged goblin of a man, with a stiff military posture and a verbose, rambling manner of speech. And for his size and general intimidation, he's adorably awkward. Perhaps both Tim and Hob can play cutely awkward together while Rue brightens up the room with their easy charisma.
"No!" And for not knowing, Rue looks absolutely delighted at the very prospect of it. "I've never even heard of it! But if you like it, I'd love to experience it with you. I'm trying to step out of my comfort zone and try everything, at least once. That is a sport, yes? I imagine so with the customary 'ball' attached to the end."
no subject
But then Rue is chirping happily along and Tim is helpless to hold back the last lingering remnant of fight-or-flight excitability and he's coaxed into a coughing sort of laugh. Aborted sort of laugh. He's exhausted mentally and physically and emotionally and he's drained, he is done.
He just promised Monday night football to a... Rue. It's bizarre. It's bizarre because he understands Jack a lot sometimes. Understands his dad, he means. There's a lot promises being made that weren't supposed to be promises and,
smiling placidly into his tea he says,
"Yeah, football is basically the most popular sport in this country. It's not my favorite, I haven't watched a game in a while. I haven't watched any game in a while."
like he's promising to not set someone up for disappointment. Don't be a jerk, he pleads to himself. Shut this down.
"If we ever catch a game I wouldn't mind explaining the rules and everything to you so it's easier to keep up."
no subject
"Well, I shall keep my Monday afternoons free then. If you would ever like to -" Their big eyes blink over at Tim, watching the way he smiles into his tea. Their gaze smiles back. "Ah, catch a game with me." Look at them! Learning the lingo!. "I'd be delighted, Tim."
Rue settles back carefully into their chair - reinforced certainly, but they still don't completely trust furniture made with the human-form in mind - holding their dainty tea cup carefully between both paws, letting the fresh smell floral scent rise up to their beak.
"I must admit, I've never shared a space with another before, so if I overstep on any boundaries, please simply let me know. I'm quite happy to have you here. I think you and I will make this into a lovely space together. And, if I may be so bold, I'm excited to get to know you."