mixed up as a milkshake, but make no mistake

[soldiarity]

WHO: REINER BRAUN and TERRY WARD
WHERE: Heropa! Terry's house.
WHEN: Tuesday afternoon.
WHAT: Terry's lawn could use some tending to. Luckily...
WARNINGS: None anticipated but will ETA if so!


[ Now that school has let out for the summer, the only thing that really brings Reiner back into Heropa regularly is his job; not that there isn't call for landscapers in Nonah, too, but as far as the work itself he prefers the climate of Florida a bit more.

Often the assignments are provided to him through a third party, Reiner receiving the address and instructions but then often meeting the homeowners for the first time once he's there (assuming they're home). Today it's a relatively straightforward lawn and hedge trim, which Reiner finds easy almost to the point of being relaxed by the work; he walks down the sidewalk toward Residence #6 with an electric pushmower slung on his shoulder and hedge clippers hanging off his belt, dressed for the heat as usual in a white t-shirt and cut-off shorts.

Shifting the mower slightly so that he has more mobility in his arm, Reiner knocks on the front door to let whomever's home know he's there. ]

Comments

[demonspawn]

[ He can safely say at least that April's never been afraid of him -- and that carries a weight he would struggle to articulate out loud. Especially to someone he doesn't know very well yet. Still, given their brief interaction, it could be worse. It could be a lot worse. Reiner's not so bad. Tolerable, even.

That line of thought makes Terry more amenable to answering Reiner's question. ]

I've been an Import... [ He exhales, counting in his head. ] Almost six years, on and off. Some of it I don't remember, but people told me about it. This time around? Like two and a half years.

[ He glances off a bit, absently picking lint off his skinny jeans. ]

Seen a lot of people come and go, or whatever. You almost kinda get used to it.

[soldiarity]

[ Six years. Reiner doesn't vocalize his surprise, but he does pause in his hedge-trimming to give Terry a slightly startled look. ]

So that's possible... [ Though he did say "on and off." ] Does that happen often, where you don't remember everything? Damn, that's kind of creepy, isn't it? You're really calm about it.

[ It's creepy to him, at least, but he's got enough experience with not remembering parts of his own life. ]

I guess it's like that anywhere -- you never know what'll happen.

[demonspawn]

For me? I think it happened twice. I'd tell for you sure, but I don't actually remember -- not remembering. Or. Yeah.

[ Awkward. He's already saying more than he would to most people. Probably better not to go into all the details -- then his cynicism about everything would be exposed in its full, teen angst glory. Maybe it's just been a while since he's actually talked to anyone about this stuff. ]

It just becomes normal, after a while. Which I guess is kinda messed up, but. [ He shrugs, to play it off. ] It wasn't like my life back home was any better.

[soldiarity]

[ Reiner smirks at that -- vaguely, anyway -- but nods his head slowly in understanding, maybe even sympathy to an extent. To him this seems like a normal talk despite the abnormal subject matter, but Reiner has always been good at that; earning trust or easily coaxing conversation. ]

That would bother me for sure. I hate forgetting anything.

[ He shakes his head a little at that, gaze somewhere distant before he moves on from clipping, trimming just a couple more leaves as a finishing touch before he glances back over at Terry. ]

I'll be really bummed out if you tell me you're dead or something where you come from. Uh -- you're not, right?

[demonspawn]

What? No.

[ Well. ]

I mean, technically I can't die. So.

[ Yeah, casual nineteen-year-old immortal. No big deal. Terry awkwardly lifts a hand and rubs the back of his neck, glancing off a little bit before he looks back at Reiner again. ]

I've kinda been dead. Before. That sucked. But it didn't stick. [ A beat then, before he adds as an after thought: ] Wait, you aren't dead where you come from, are you?

[soldiarity]

[ Ah, good; Reiner looks relieved, setting aside his shears. Weird, but good. He's not immortal, per se, but very close to it -- he ages but can't die easily. ]

Here, or--? Can people come back to life where you're from? [ He'll never get used to that. He shakes his head and gives Terry a thumbs up. ] Don't worry. I'm not yet and sure don't plan to be anytime soon. I just know that for some people... I guess that's their situation.

[demonspawn]

It's not a home world thing. It's a me thing.

[ He doesn't sound proud of it though -- not really. If anything, he sounds a little between self-conscious and almost a bit dismissive, like he's talking about it but he isn't sure that he wants to be and he doesn't want his uncertainty to show. ]

I'm... Kind of a demon? Like, my dad is some supernatural overlord. And an asshole. But I got the powers 'cause of the first thing.

[ A little pause then, because as used to the "dead when I go back" thing as he's gotten, it still never stops sucking. ]

Either way, you can't change people's situations, I guess.

[soldiarity]

[ "It's a me thing," Terry says. Strangely, Reiner can relate to that the most of anything they've said so far in this conversation. He knows from "me things," all right, even though he's no demon.

But he's only vaguely aware of what a demon even is. ]

Were you born with them? [ Because that would be different. ] I don't really know much about demons, to be honest. Do you do anything else?

[ He nods, though, in acknowledgement, shrugging slightly. ]

Just your own, right? Or people you care about.