5055034455 | [exsilium] contact

[Cue a blank, blank stare.]

I'm talking about you, Stan.

[...Wait, what? Hang on a sec, he needs to try and process that, but his brain isn't working. Being tired is actually way more disorienting than being stoned, who knew?]

You're checking on me? Why? What'd you hear?

[And the look remains.]

I didn't hear anything. I'm just concerned, that's all.

Oh.

[The suspicion in that becomes confusion, and slowly, a little sheepishness. Someone was actually checking on him? Weird. But...that's kind of nice of the dude.

And he probably shouldn't have gone off on the guy about Jesse, either. The morning had been kind of unpleasant, but Saul wasn't even around for that shit. He clears his throat, unsure how to answer.]

Jesse's fine. And Peace is fine. And I'm...you know.

[Stanley is tired. And miserable. But nobody ever asks you how you are because they want to actually know, right? Ugh.]

I'm fine. How are you?

Bullshit.

[Saul leans back in his chair with a disapproving, skeptical look. Does Stan really think the bullshit king is going to believe so weak a response?]

You're not doing me any favors by lying, Stan. Try again.

[He's called Saul out on enough bullshit that frankly, it only seems fair that he's finally getting it back. Yeah, he probably deserved that.

It's a little hard to say the next part. Stanley looks away for a moment, and then back at Saul to meet his eyes. He sighs.]

I think I need some help.

[Ah, the first step to recovery. Saul's not smiling, of course, but he looks like he got the answer he wanted.]

Okay. What can I do?

I dunno. Got some sleeping pills and free time? Know how to make something that isn't toast or spaghetti? Any idea who can cut hair around here? I guess you just wait for yours to fall out, right?

[See, the last part is supposed to be funny. Except he forgets to say it in a different tone, so it comes out sounding a lot less like a joke than intended.]

I know I'm a shitty parent, but like...

[Sigh.]

Last month I was still sleeping through algebra, you know? I don't know how to...I don't even know what it is I don't know how to do. You know how frustrating that is? Everyone getting on your case for fucking up, and for once you're really trying your hardest?

[He scowls for a second, but then realizes that none of that even answered the question. None of that is something Saul can do, is it?]

You...you do that mission list thing, right? Maybe you can add something for cats and little kids. And...poptarts, I don't know. Something that's...she just never sleeps. Like ever. And there's a cat. I never even had a goldfish.

Okay, let me address these concerns in order: one, no, I'm not getting you drugs. Two, I offered to cook for you back in the city. That offer still stands. Three, ask the network, because there are a few people.

[And he'll ignore the hair comment, thanks.]

I know you're trying, Stan. And I don't think you're doing such a bad job, all things considered, but you can't be afraid to ask for help. There's a pile of people here who'd be happy to give you a hand.

[Himself included, but he hopes he doesn't have to say that.]

You can have some of the food and toys I brought back for my cat. As for Peace — yeah, we can get her stuff. What does she like? Dolls? Cars?

I did...ask, I mean. I've asked. Kinda assumed that's why-anyway, I've asked.

[But he's not going to comment on that offer for food, for the humans and cats alike. Saul had offered before, and if he wasn't so freaked out by Stephanie, Stanley probably would've taken the guy up on it by now, too.

Maybe for Peace's sake it's time to swallow that pill. Even if the dude won't give him any drugs. Which is shitty, actually. Stanley totally gave Saul drugs, what's up with that?

The toy question is a little hard, too. He's never seen her playing with any. He's pretty sure she didn't have them at home. So he swings the conversation back to the familiar territory of giving Saul shit. There, that's better.]

I didn't take you for a cat guy.

Yeah, well. A lot of people don't take me for a lot of things.

[Saul pushes a hair through his hair, jerking his head toward the kitchen. Whatever; if it makes Stan feel better to mess with him, then Saul will let it go.]

You two need to eat. When's the last time either of you had any protein?

She doesn't like the protein bars.

[Sigh.]

Probably because they taste like shit. But she keeps spitting 'em back out. Why doesn't the moon have peanut butter?

Have you even checked out the kitchen? People have been bringing back food left and right. I'm sure there's peanut butter somewhere.

[And because Saul knows for damn sure Stan won't take that as the invitation to investigate that it is, he stands, holds up a hand to indicate that Stan should stay, then disappears to the kitchen.]

[Of course he's checked the kitchens, you jerk. That's where they keep the food.

But arguing...arguing is such an unnecessary drain on precious energy at the moment. He doesn't even quirk an eyebrow, just sits there and waits.

Food should be coming back with Saul. That's good. Who cares how stupid the guy thinks he is, as long as he's bringing food?]

[A little while later — about ten minutes, give or take — Saul reappears with two plates.

Peanut butter sandwiches, Stan!!!

...low-fat peanut butter, but it's all he could find. It's better than nothing. On the plates are also a few orange slices.

Is this what parents feel like?]

Here.

[Before Stanley can so much as grunt a thanks, Peace scrambles off the floor and climbs him like a tree, accidentally stomping him in the goods on her way up. Yay, lunch!

Stan makes a strangled noise and leans on the table for support, so he doesn't really have the breath to stop her when she immediately opens the bread and drops half of it in his hair. The other half she sucks on and stares at Saul, as if he might try to take it away from her.

Go get your own, old guy.]

[...this is what parents feel like.

Saul presses his lips together hard to keep from laughing, but there's no hiding the amused twinkle in his eye.]

Stan, uh —

[AW CRAP NO he's laughing.

Ah, well. He tried.]

[Ow. That...ow. And-ugh! He finally gets some peanut butter, and it's in his hair. The look on his face is probably a bit comical in it's sheer misery. That is so unfair.

He doesn't actually trust his voice to come out properly at the moment to tell Saul to fuck off, so he settles for a glare. Peace, meanwhile, pets his head consolingly while she licks at the bread and gets peanut butter all over her face. Awwwyeah.]

[Okay, okay. The moment's passed and now Saul feels a little bad, so he holds up a finger to indicate: Wait.

Then disappears again.

Returns.

Again.

With a napkin (actually, five) and another sandwich.

To Peace:] This is for Stan, okay? No putting it in anyone's hair.

[Hair? Stanley has hair. Peace grabs a fistful of it and holds it out for Saul, the picture of seriousness. Go ahead, man, there's plenty.

Stan grunts at the tug but doesn't really react beyond that. He's still gathering his inner resources here. That hurt, dude.

Still, something important needs to be addressed here, and since his eyes are still too blurry to tell, he'd better just communicate it.]

No milk, ok? She...no milk.

Peace...

[Kids.

Why kids?

Why.]

Is she lactose intolerant?

Yeah, it-ah. You know. Bad idea. Cinnamon too. Gives her a rash.

No cinnamon ice cream, then.

[Tch.]

That's a shame. I love that stuff.

Didn't know it existed.

I'll have to find some for you sometime. Now, go on — eat up.

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