Sir? Your face is leaking

~~“CALLEY!”

General was yelling at her, then grabbing her and forcing her into a hug, his face snuggling into that place between neck and shoulder, exposed in the slightly v-necked T-shirt.

“Um. Sir?”

It seemed a little odd to be calling him that, but she couldn’t remember what he had said to call him, something to do with sorcery, or wizards, or that dark place between science and magic. Alchemist? She was fairly sure that was what it was. He pulled away, his eyes mis-matched, his face sporting the pattern of carpet across one cheek.

He smelled like bleach, and chlorine.

~~"Sorry, I'm, uh, expecting someone."

Verdy cocked one eyebrow, she was no expert, but from what she remembered of James’ room, or the room of her younger brother the gleaming white on the other side of the doorway was abnormal, who was he expecting? The food authorities? That was a little unfair, perhaps he was just a neat freak, yeah… who was trying to smother himself in fumes.

~~"How are you?"

She glanced at the faded scar on her arm, the last visible reminder of the fight with Cthulhu. On the whole she wasn’t too bad.

“I’m ok, and you? Trying to fumigate cheap? Didn’t you read the label, I’m sure it would say to ‘allow ventilation’ or something like that.”

She touched the red apple to her lips, paused, then held out the green to the young man, perhaps he would be hungry, better than trying to eat an apple one-handed, as a bestseller book cover showed, you obviously needed both hands to eat an apple.

Spontaneous hugs could be ignored for now... Not that she minded, of course, hugs were nice.

~~"No, my room was just a bit of a mess, so I cleaned it, and re painted it. I think I may give the floor another light vacuum though."

Verdigris looked at the spotless carpet beneath her feet, her shoes weren’t that dirty, maybe a little grubby along the sides, but the walking up and down the hallways would have dislodged any loose bits of dirt and grit. She yanked them off with her toes and left them at the door, just in case. She handed over the apple and began to munch her own thoughtfully as the General moved to open the window.

~~"Sorry, I guess I lost track of time."

Verdigris nodded, it was easy to do once you got focussed on something, but guessing from the quickly dissipating stink of products and the almighty snarl issuing from his guts; he had been lost for more than one mealtime.

“I thought I hadn’t seen you around for a bit.”

Because that wasn’t creepy at all.

“I mean your hair, you’re a little obvious in the hallways, easy to pick from a distance and stuff…”

~~ “I'm still pulling clay from my hair."

She snorted agreement, just when surely surely all the clay must be gone, she’d find a little smear on the inside of her ear, or on the back of her neck. No matter how many times she showered, the clay still made the occasional appearance. Her eyes widened at the sight of a draw full of squares. The General pulled one square out and shook them out into a pair of pants. That was… strange… She glanced away as he shoved his legs into them and completed the jiggling that always accompanies pulling on pants in front of someone else, the smoothness of dressing alone always sacrificed by the observation of another.

The crunch of the apples filled the silence of the spotless room.

The General didn’t seem entirely pleased, his face was all sucked in, and his eyes glittered with something between hate and pain. She knew green apples were sour, but had never tasted one that bad, or seen one have this effect before. She blinked at each question fired at her, but without waiting for her muddled brain to form a coherent answer the young man was rushing about. He drier-ed the handtowel after only one use, she suddenly felt quite grubby.

A deep breath, exhale gently, now to the questions, the man was standing before her in obvious expectation of their respective answers, so she tried to deal with them mainly in the order they had rapid-fired across the spotless room towards her. She glanced at her watch.

“I’ve been wearing my clothes for probably about two hours, three maximum. They came out of the wash yesterday and this is the first time I’ve worn them since, I put them on directly after my shower this morning, also about two, two and a half hours ago… except my socks, which I put on about half an hour ago to wear to the kitchen and back.”

She considered the statement about apples and juice for a moment, the whole cleaning thing had really got to his head apparently. She carefully pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her fingers and mouth delicately on it, before wrapping it around the apple core and slipping it back into her pocket discretely, with her luck that wouldn’t be good enough and the general would start scrubbing her a scary prospect. She looked the man up and down. There was a word for this state, she was sure… not shaken, or rattled or even discombobulated, but still… Shell-shocked? What had happened to this, strong, fearless young man to make him act so strangely?

“Are you ok, sir? You’re acting a little… neat-freaky, you wanna… talk? Or go grab some breakfast or something?”

Maybe the cleaning products were partially to blame, but why would he have been using them so liberally anyway? The possibility of some kind of crime, murder perhaps, sent chills down her spine, but she set herself firmly on the pristine-to-the-point-of-luminescent carpet.. The General was one of the good guys. Well, at least as far as she could tell.

~~“Step off my carpet, the kitchen is full of dirt, your socks are dirty!”

Verdigris threw a glance towards her boots, they did have a little bit of a hole in the side of the left one, and a crack along that place where toe connects to sole on the right, so her socks maybe had a tiny bit of dirt in them. She grit her teeth and took a tiny step backwards, she would not run from the young man. After all, who would turn their back on a man of questionable mental heath wielding a sword? No matter how afraid of getting his carpet grubby he was.

~~“Get out of my room, mutant hater.”

The complete and utter nonsensical nature of that sentence froze her to the spot and she quirked an eyebrow. Perhaps ‘freak’ had been the wrong word to use in the situation. Drunken scenes that made her head ache merely remembering flitted through her mind, and something about a yippy, yappy poodle-dog. She dismissed it.

The sword fell to the floor with a noise somewhere between a clatter and a muffled clang. She glanced at it where it lay, then back to the General’s face. He looked at first like a kicked animal, hunting for a space to squeeze into, then the fear dissolved in a stream of tears which trickled down before clinging for a moment to his chin- slight stubble, she noticed- and falling silently to the floor.

Her own fear also faded away and she took a few steps forward and cradled the taller boy gently- albeit awkwardly- into a hug. She stroked his back gently, it seemed inappropriate to hush him, since he wasn’t making any noise, crooning ‘I know’ only seems to work for visible injuries and she had already used her handkerchief. She opted to just continue the soothing stroking motions, there was something automatic about it, it just felt like the right thing to do in a situation like this.

“Its ok, it’s ok… I won’t say everything is going to be ok, but its ok to get it out now… it’s healthy.”

Stroke, stroke, soothing stroke.

The boy stiffened as she hugged him, but didn’t cease the sobs. His sniffles seemed shallower as well, like he smelled something strange. She inhaled quietly, he smelled like chlorine, and a bit salty but that was probably the tears, she smelled like shampoo and a moisturising lotion she was trying out. It made her skin feel weird and smelled faintly like strawberries. He pulled away from her and dropped onto the bed.

She watched as his eyes seemed to glaze over, perhaps it was just tears filling his eyes. She looked around at the room, spotlessness glared back at her from all directions. The overly sanitised smell made her head hurt and she flicked the switch that turned on the overhead fan. With all those cleaning products and paint, it was a wonder the boy was still conscious, the open window helped with the fumes, as did the now slowly rotating fan but still it was enough to make anyone’s eyes water. The second bed was empty, perhaps he was expecting a new roommate, losing the ownership of a room didn’t seem like something to be so distraught about though. Perhaps his last roommate had been injured, or died, or- or- or something.

How does one go about cheering someone they hardly know up?

She rummaged through her pockets, surely there was something- ah-ha! She pulled out a half eaten bag of jelly-beans and sat down beside the General on the bed. Popping a purple sweet into her mouth she offered the bag to the young man.

“Here, have some. They might make you feel a little better, or at least work out how to fix things…”

Could you fix your roommate being dead? The loss of Andy would definitely shake her, she might ask to move rooms so as to not see all the places and things they had shared, but a complete cleansing of the room was a little overboard.

Unless said roomie had come to a sticky end in said room. She glanced at the general and tried to recall if his mutation had anything to do with exploding people. She was fairly sure it wasn’t. Still, the roommate could have done it to themselves. She felt a little ill just thinking about it.

“I live just up the hallway, you’re most welcome to come and… visit if you need to get out for a bit.”

She would have said ‘stay’, but without consultation with her green-skinned friend and the rules on mixed genders sharing rooms she couldn’t promise anything.

“And you can have a whole lot of showers before you leave so you’re clean to come back.”

Provided he brought his own towel and clothes and was fully clothes before and after leaving the bathroom. Hospitality was all well and good, but it had its limits. Nudity overstepped that line.

The boy next to her on the bed looked as if he might just like to take a chomp out of her, not a jelly-bean, although not for the taste. More like he had a personal vendetta against unnaturally coloured beans. She feared for a moment for her exposed skin, before recalling that the boy was having a cleansing frenzy and would not wish to have her blood splatter his carpet.

But she might not hang around, just in case.

He wanted to die. The fumes weren’t accidentally filling the room, they were on purpose, and she had killed- in a manner of speaking- his death plan. Although, if he had been expecting someone, surely he wouldn’t have wanted them to walk in on him dead. Perhaps she was the wrong kind of saviour. The kind of one who bursts in before the villain has finished tying the prisoner up and giving a five minute monologue. The kind which destroys dramatic timing.

She was not wanted here.

Tucking the beans into her pocket she surveyed the young man. He didn’t seem about to rip into his own arms with a pocket knife. More likely to cry himself sick and clean some more. Or wait for the timely saviour he had been expecting in the first place.

“Dying doesn’t solve anything.”

It wasn’t very insightful. Nor backed up with proof. It wasn’t even something she had come up with herself. She had stolen it from a poster hanging on a wall in one of the youth hostels she had sometimes stayed in. As if saying it made it true. Perhaps it was. It was strange knowing you might be walking out on someone leaving the world. So many things she should try and say to make things better. Her fingers on the doorframe she glanced at the boy, she hoped not for the last time.

“My offer still stands, if you need me.”

Not that he wanted to need her, by the look of him. She doubted he’d come even if he desperately needed somebody, anybody. The knowledge and doubt kind of hurt.