righthemisphere | IC CONTACT

[Arthur, is, unfortunately, quite correct.

It isn't Raleigh who gets to the door first, It's Pesto, one of the little raccoon kits. He appears in the window, little paws stretched up against the glass where he chitters and then disappears again only to be replaced by two more of his siblings, identifiable only by the little color coded ribbons around their necks.

A full minute and a half later the door will unbolt (three bolts, actually) and creek open - answered by a very tired, very ugly Raleigh Becket. Black and blue and swollen all over, wrapped up in a dressing gown and held together with more butterfly stitches than a man ought to admit.

He sags a little.]

Ahh.. I didn't text you. M'sorry.

[Arthur raises his eyebrows as he scans Raleigh's bruised face, pulling quite the unimpressed expression. Is there empathy somewhere in his heart? Yeah, but it's pretty well hidden under many layers of disappointment.]

Looks like I had a good reason to be worried.

[Grunt. Raleigh blinks lazily, like he's had some great pain killers and isn't completely in his body right now. He glances from Arthur to behind him and back before stepping back to let Arthur come in if he wants.]

Wasn't the guy. S'the guy's brother. Total asshole.

[Arthur takes a step inside and let's out a sigh thick with disappointment.]

Yeah, well I bet you'd've been the asshole too if it was your brother.

Oh, absolutely. I can't even be mad. I woulda smashed my face in.

[Waving his hand a little as he works himself towards the couch. Standing is hard. Turns out sitting hurts too, fucking god GODDD]

To his credit, if you're ever looking for a good fight, Dean Winchester is your man. The old one, not the little one. There's two, I dunno. Fuckin'... wibbly wobbly timey wimey

[Arthur follows him through, sitting down in an armchair and watching Raleigh move.]

Yeah, there's two of me here too.

[No big, let's blow through that.]

He jump you?

mm I feel like you've told me that one.. Sorry I'm a little- [Whistle. Away with the faeries.

What'd he- oh- right-]

Yeah, something like that. Down on Main. But I'm not sorryyyy

[Arthur rolls his eyes. Raleigh's clearly high out of his mind on something, which is probably for the best judging by his face, but it doesn't make for great conversation.]

Where's Chuck?

On patrol.

[Incorrect assumption. Chuck is hunting down Dean for some payback. The dustcloud continues.]

He'll be back soon. Why?

[Arthur levels Raleigh with a tired look.]

Just doesn't seem like you should be left alone.

Well.. like do you want a cuddle or something?

[Oh my god. Arthur sighs and rubs his forehead.]

I'm gonna step outside for a minute. You good in here?

[so rude]

Yeah, man. I'm good. I'm probably gonna like. I'll be here.

[Well Arthur's gonna stand up and make a beeline for the back door, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his jacket. It's a combination of the craving and needing to just step out for a second to talk himself down from peak I-told-you-so Arthur. He knows what he's like and he knows people don't like it. Tobacco will help.]

[Completely fair enough. You do you, Arthur. Enjoy Raleigh's sunflower crop that are still managing to sprout despite the desert world shift. In a few months they'll be beautiful. Assuming they're all around that long.]

[As Arthur inhales that sweet, sweet tobacco he wonders to himself what it is about reckless people that he's so drawn to. Or whether the reverse is true. He doesn't really know how much of this he should even take on — his urge is to swoop in and fix it all but that never works out.]

[Anyway a few minutes later he's coming in and heading to Raleigh's kitchen to pour them each a glass of water. He's so helpful.]

[What a helpful friend!!

He will appreciate that, take it and sip with a nod of thanks.

Man what is that- wow the nostalgia of cigarette smoke.

Don't say anything Raleigh, it isn't your business. He's being nice and isn't yelling at you for fighting, don't be an asshole.

Mmmmmmmm medicateo impulse control though.]

I didn't know you smoke.

I haven't in a few years, but the dogs brought me a pack.

[Or two. This is pack number two. That's neither here nor there.]

Guess it goes with the whole aesthetic.

[Said with a gesture to his clothes.]

[Raleigh snorts softly. Always an excuse, huh. Sorry, Arthur, he isn't the best company right now.]

You're gonna regret that later when you run out.

[Arthur doesn't expect Raleigh to be the greatest host right now, judging by his face. He just sips his water and shrugs.]

I've quit before.

Mm.. my mom used to say that all the time. She never did. I hope you do.

[Arthur senses some judgement and some reactionary defensiveness pricks up on the back of his neck.]

We're in hell anyway, so what does it matter?

[His tone implies he's not really interested in the answer, fingers itching to go for another cigarette, just craving the distraction and solitude of it rather than anything chemical.]

You've got a point there. Not like it'll kill you here, huh.

[A shrug.]

Didn't consider that.

[Arthur's hackles lower and he sighs, staring down at a spot of dirt on his knee.]

I usually quit after a few months anyway.

Mmf, you do you, brother.

[lazily slouching down into his couch, knees wide.]

That sounded judgy. I didn't mean it like that. Reflex from harpin' on my brother.

Huehuehue

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