maskormenacelogs | i have no song lyrics for a title

Right... An entire lifetime to do as they please. It's like what he and Rex were talking about back at the aquarium, about what they'd do if they had just as much gumption to be like that.

"...Would you?" Martin peeks over Kanan's way curiously. "I mean--having all that time. Being able to...do whatever you want. Would you make holidays too?"

Kanan considers that for a moment. “If I had the ability to choose... I might. Why not make reasons to celebrate? Come up with excuses to spend time with the people I love? My family? That’s what I’d want to do, if I could.”

Martin thinks about that. About what it'd be like if Darkovs didn't have to train or hunt or kill. If all they had was time together. What would it be like? Darkov holidays...

Would they even get along? When it came to Alex, to Gracia...even Vincent, who would probably just not bother at all. And Aunt Sofia...

More time with all of them. Would that be better? Without the hunt to bind them, would there be anything else to relate to beyond blood?

He doesn't have too long to worry on it before they've arrived at the familiar neighborhood street. They almost make it right up to the house before Martin thinks to speak to it -- he often forgets Kanan's blindness like this.

"Oh--so. So...when the government told us to move, they just...made us go to a house on the same street. It's...mostly the same. Outside looks the same. Inside is a little mixed up. But I don't think it's bad."

"Just as long as it's not too cluttered," Kanan says with a faint smile.

"So what about you? Would you bring anyone from home to this world, and celebrate holidays with them if you could?"

Clutter is the last problem in house number 4, considering Rex. If anything, the only hazard is if Andy appears without him and starts leaving things laying around carelessly, and even then, he'd not be far behind to pick it all up. And iron it. Or wash it. Or both.

He'd tell him so, but Kanan brought up holidays again. Martin hesitates to answer.

"Um." He and Archie spoke of this, late in the night, after he'd feared a cousin arriving unknown to him. If Alex truly did come here alone, that'd be...bad.

"I, I don't know," he admits feebly. "Maybe my sister. If she'd like this sort of thing...I don't know. It's just-- a lot different. Here--"

He interrupts himself to turn up the path to the house, pulling a key out of his pocket to get them inside.

"It is pretty different," he admits with a laugh. "Even from what I'm used to."

As they step inside, Kanan puts a gentle hand on Martin's shoulder.

"If I'm going to stay here, I'll need some help - can you tell me where things are? I'll have to memorize it."

Living with Rex has gotten Martin more comfortable with shoulder touches, so beyond an initial start, he has no issue with Kanan keeping hold there as he takes the lead. He's not much by way of tour guide, but then, he doesn't really need to be; this house is still pretty sparse even with four inhabitants -- most of them aren't much for decorations.

He covers the rooms and major landmarks -- tables, the fish, furniture that may cross his path -- before heading up the stairs to the hall of rooms.

"This is the empty one," he reports once they've reached its threshold. "It has the same furniture as Rex's and mine, in the same spots." Because who rearranges things, anyway?

"Well... I appreciate the invite," Kanan says after listening to Martin's guided tour and making note of all the major furniture locations.

"I don't know how often I'll actually sleep here, but... it's nice to know it's here if I need it."

"And there's food," Martin adds. "I mean--if you want. It's not always a big dinner with many people, but...if you're hungry, you can come here if you want."

He's not really sure why he's so compelled to insist -- in fact, in realizing he's being a bit pushy, he swallows, his shoulders shrugging up.

"But-but whatever you want is fine, too. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Kanan says immediately, and then pauses. Smiles faintly.

"It's actually nice to know someone cares enough to want me around."

"..."

Martin frowns. That sounds like something he'd say, himself. Why wouldn't people want Kanan around? Is it about that party-thing? With the people he didn't get along with? There's no one like that here, he thinks. Hopes? No one's said so around him...

"I...I don't think anyone here would mind," he says, scratching at his elbow. "I mean. You're nice. So it's good."

Kanan waves him off. "Thanks. It's just lonely sometimes, is all."

Which, is true. He cares very deeply about some of the people here, but no one will replace the family he left behind back home.

Martin's got a great deal more sympathetic to others in his time here; for a long time, he was so caught up in his own anxieties and unhappiness to see anyone else's on the same level. He'd never claim it, but he often put his sufferings on a pedestal higher than others, justifying his shortcomings and making excuses for giving up. He often felt that no one else could feel the same way he could, but...that was outright wrong.

He never claimed to be smart, though...

He gets what Kanan means, he thinks. About the lonely feelings. Even in a house like this -- with Rex, with Cassandra, with Andy close at-hand...sometimes it was lonely. Very lonely, especially at night; he'll never get used to sleeping by himself.

And Kanan sleeps in an office.

"Do you want to stay?" he asks, echoing some thoughts popping to mind. "I mean--for dinner. It's...not time yet, but. I know how to make tea, and there's...some snacks and things for before."

A lot of them are lonely - Kanan would never believe he's the only one. It's why he trusts Martin to understand what he's saying, really. There's a sense of isolation that comes from not having his family here, and also knowing he likely won't ever see them again.

"Sure," he says after a moment, giving him a faint smile. "That sounds good."

"Alright, this way-!"

Martin heads back into the kitchen, doubling back around the table to push a chair out into Kanan's grasp before setting to the task of the kettle. This one's easy: heat water, wait, pour water, put tea in. Done! He's not actually messed this one up, so he sure as heck won't today. But if Kanan's the sort who likes to put stuff in his tea, he'll find himself out of luck -- said stuff tends to live in cupboards still a few inches out of his safe reach.

The real solution to that is to simply not ask if he puts stuff in, and that's exactly what Martin does. Not ask, that is. And while the kettle heats up, Martin pulls out a chair for himself, sitting on it by his knees.

"I don't know what is being brought back for dinner," he admits, "but it will probably not be bad? Unless you can't eat cheese." Which tends to be mixed in somehow, given Martin's tastes. But he knows Riptide, has seen the poor guy slowly spit out Parmesan off a slice of pizza after remembering his intolerance. It'd be tragic to know if Kanan was the same, really.

Honestly? Kanan's more of a coffee guy. But he's not about to be picky or confuse Martin more than necessary - the kid wants to make him tea, he'll drink some damn tea. He'll figure out the coffee maker later, on his own time.

"Oh, I'm good with cheese," he says with a smile. "I eat pizza about twice a week."

"Me, too." His own mouth tugs a feeble smile, relieved to have something in common foodwise. He'd hate for Kanan to suffer the way Rex did; that was a...that was a thing that definitely happened and was handled poorly.

"There's also a lot of, um...rice? Rice with meat. They come in little boxes and you eat it with sticks. Or just a fork, but I...think it was supposed to be with sticks. I don't know, I forget."

The rambling gets him from the stove to the fridge, where he pauses his thoughts to grab the remains of an assorted cheese plate and puts it on the table.

"Cassandra got me these," he explains, peeling the saran wrapping back. "Since I didn't know there were all different kinds, she got me a bunch to try. You can have any you want, too."

"Never tried to eat anything with sticks," Kanan admits. He probably would be pretty terrible at that, for obvious reasons.

"I don't know much about different kinds of cheeses here, either," he adds after a moment. "I'm told the milk isn't even blue, so..."

"Um, I don't think I've seen any blue milk," he replies slowly, frowning. But he does realize something that perks him up a bit. "But-but Cassandra says there's blue cheese? And that's made from milk, so...so maybe..."

"Really?" Kanan looks genuinely surprised. "I didn't think there was anything like a bantha in this world, but maybe I was wrong. Do you have any blue cheese here?"

Oh, Kanan. No, honey.

There is no one here to save him, none with the sense to stop this madness. There is only one well-meaning Darkov boy with a plate full of cheese. Said boy hesitates, picking at the little list Cass wrote to remind him what was what, and...

"Oh. Yes! There's some...Here."

And lo, the toothpick carrying the stuff is carefully put in Kanan's hand.

How unfortunate. Kanan, however, looks curious as he takes the proffered toothpick... and sniffs it.

A look comes across his face that is - well, revolted is probably the best way to describe it as he takes another whiff.

"Are... are you sure this is okay to eat?" he asks.

"I...I think so?"

Kanan's doubt has Martin doubting -- to say nothing of the disgust that had scrunched up his features just having it close to his face.

Did the whole plate go bad? Martin picks up a different piece and gives it a sniff. Fine to him, but...

"You don't have to if it seems bad. Sorry."

"Well, it doesn't smell anything like the cheese from back home," Kanan says. He... hesitantly... takes a small bite.

Oh, that was a bad idea.

"Yech."

"Then you don't have to--" Oh. There he goes. Martin has a few regrets, watching the way Kanan's nose scrunches and his eyes wince.

What if he winds up curled on the bathroom floor like Rex? Is this going to be one of those things? He's not sure he wants to go though that again.

...Kanan probably doesn't want that, either.

Martin slides out of his chair and over to some cabinets, having to do a bit of a hop to get enough air to snatch a glass out of there. After a trip to the sink, he offers the glass of water.

"Here. I can--get another glass? Do you want to spit it out?"

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