[open] And the nights, they last forever...

[the_horror]

WHO: The Hargreeves + Guests
WHERE: Various Cities
WHEN: Month of May
WHAT: Mass log of idiots to keep from flooding others. A log for all things Hargreeves, their Adventures, and those trying to befriend them.
WARNINGS: Obligatory CW for: drugs, alcohol, mentions of death, and mentions of child abuse. You know, the normal things.

"Gerard Way - Baby You're A Haunted House [Official Lyric Video]" (Watch on YouTube)

Comments

[numberthree]

Allison still has to look back at that comment before taking the room in at that parallel. Tying it to that mention of Diego living in a gym, and what did that even look like? Allison couldn't even picture much of how one would go about living in a gym, itself. But space gave it some context. An oddly awkward one, as somewhere in her head she tried to even think about the last time she'd lived in a space so much smaller than any of her last several.

Diego follows it all up, just the next second with another question, giving Allison something else to answer instead of that strange, uncertain give of comparison and she looks at what is in the room. Maybe? There's a bit of a shrug at the first fast send before she adds more. It'll be in the paperwork, but a lot of rentals at least come with the basics. The fridge and stove probably.

We'll need to ask about the washer and dryer, too.

[deadlycurves]

He shuts the cabinet he was poking around inside of and considers her answer to that for a second. "Uh- I really hope they give us the washer and dryer, because laundromats suck." Not to mention, they were freaking expensive. The more this conversation winds around, though, the more he's realizing how very, very little about each other's lives any of them are aware of, really. Except maybe Ben and Klaus-- Ben got the short end of the stick, on that one, and had no choice in the tag-along game with him. "Have you ever even been to one?" The question isn't the jab it could have been, taken a little too much by that seconds-earlier realization so that the words are more curious than insulting. "Fuck, seven of us... I don't even wanna think what that's gonna cost a month on laundry alone."

[numberthree]

The thing is, she hasn't.

At least not outside of the context of a movie set.

It doesn't change that she doesn't need someone to explain what they are like.

It's only that she'd never needed one when she was young enough she could have. (I heard a rumor that you did my laundry with yours. I heard a rumor you did all the laundry, because it's your apartment chore. Because you love it. Because I'm your best friend. I heard a rumor. I heard a rumor. I heard a rumor.) Then, by the time she was doing her own laundry, again -- finally? -- she had enough money to buy her next place with her own washer and dryer already in it, and even to send it all out for dry cleaning, with folding and home delivery, if she didn't want to do it still.

Expensive. Just like the electricity.

The rest of water bill, too.
Showers. Cooking. Dishes. Etc.

[deadlycurves]

"I'm not a fan of the numbers those things are going to look like." He almost visibly winces at the thought of it. And that isn't even considering what having all of them, or in whatever variety of them that end up here completely, living together. Personalities connecting and, honestly probably more to the point, clashing in so many overlapping ways, too. The interpersonal ways of roommates and existing in the same space together and everything that comes with that. "We're gonna kill each other before we hit two months in this place." The words have the air of a joke to them, but there's still such a very possible reality to it still, too.

[numberthree]

I'll work on not smothering you in your sleep on night one so you can make it that long.

The retort is all too easy, especially when there's no fire or anger behind it. Which doesn't stop her from affording him a cooly promising look with it. They were well enough aware of who they were, and how well they did -- and did not -- get along in the long term, where it came to agreeing on a great many things, and at least one half anything with Luther's name, or presence, taking place in it.

It's not serious, even when it is.

Like this planet, there's no other good option.
We'll figure it out. Money first, bodies later.

It sends, and then something actually serious follows the first two, as she looks at the room, and out the windows in the kitchen, letting so much light in, and back through that huge archway between the kitchen back to the living room. It's not terrible, right? We could do worse?

[deadlycurves]

"Hey, they first step is admitting you have a problem," he smirks. "And apparently the second step is smothering the problem in their sleep. Thanks." He rolls his eyes. Sometimes, she's just such a sister. He nods a little. "Yeah... money first," he huffs out a soft sigh of agreement, there. But then she's not even really looking at him. Back turned, taking in everything in the room. Taking in the house as a whole. There's this giant swell of-- he doesn't know what it is, self-doubt? Apprehension, maybe? Something else he can't name-- standing in the room between them when she asks those questions. And Diego can't help the soft way those words make his face twist, push his steps to be only directly behind her, so close he's almost got his chin on her shoulder as he follows her gaze out the giant archway from the kitchen. "You picked good, sis. We'll get the house... everything else'll play in hand later." As much as he doesn't want to set up a real camp here, get complacent here, the only thing that's made sense about being here so far is sticking closely to his family. And having a place they could all be, knew they would all be welcome at any time, always, was a good thing if they were going to have to ride out this weird prison sentence against their will anyway.

[numberthree]

Allison stiffens, with a bone-deep jerk to one side, as quickly as realizing Deigo's voice is right behind her, beside her ear. It's unexpected in the extreme and while she looks a little apologetic for the alarm, it's, also, just faster-ingrained, tightened expression, impulse to look for the reason of being snuck up on by Diego of all people. Having not the slightest clue why he did it. What for. Though he's been acting like he was twelve from pretty much the second she said where she was coming and making it in has only made that even more so.

Apparently, even to whatever that was. Yeah.

We should probably go.


Mitigate the chance of running into anyone looking in on the house or still working on fix-ups while they are showing it.

[deadlycurves]

Diego isn't bothered by the reaction, if anything he almost appreciates it in a weird way. It's kind of good to know it's just as impossible as it ever was to sneak up on her, that she never lost even one ounce of that awareness trained deeper than their bones as children. He's pretty sure they all had that sixth sense of being watched or a person's presence too close to anything that could be a comfort distance. "Yeah, we should." he agrees with a swift nod, and as quickly as he'd gotten into her personal space bubble, he was out of it, leading the way back out the door to the back yard. "Can't leave room for culpability lying around." he throws a smirk back at her over his shoulder. Before they leave, they'll lock it up, nice and unnoticeable that anyone had ever been there today at all.