After the last time he visited Solomon's apartment, which ended in TOTAL DISASTER, this time Javi had asked the other man beforehand whether now was a good time to arrive. Though to be fair, the disaster portion hadn't really had to do with him not texting first. And actually now it's fine. But anyway, Solomon knows he's coming today, and he arrives more or less when he'd said, in some variation of how he usually looks. The only addition is the backpack the night in the graveyard when they'd been dispelling the rather obnoxious ghost. Maybe it's his ghost backpack.
Obviously, Solomon said that coming by was fine, and did give a time - just around noon - that would be best. It's clear when he answers the door why; Solomon is just dressed up enough, even with his hair tamed into some semblance of order, that it's very likely he just got back from church. "Javi. C'mon in," he says, and waves him inside. The backpack is given a curious look, but he says, "You want something to drink?"
"Hey, Sol." Javi's smile appears pretty immediately when Solomon opens the door, and he steps inside without hesitation. "Mm...sure. Water's good. Thanks." But apparently he can't come into this apartment without saying hello to his favorite bug, and so that's where he heads first -- the terrarium with the flower-like mantis in it. "Hey, buddy," he says, bending down a little bit to look more closely. "How you doing today?" He doesn't really expect an answer, of course, but still. "You like your hot dogs?" Though that is not to the bug, but over his shoulder to Solomon as his smile pulls into a full-on grin. A //little// smug. Just a bit.
The flower mantis is currently shading itself under a broad leafed plant inside the terrarium. Its head tilts to one side as Javi looms close, and one of its serrated forearms twitches. She seems in good health, as far as Javi can measure these things, her carapace still bright and colorful, and her compound eyes attentive.
Solomon grins with approval at Javi's greeting. Although the smug question draws a snort. "So you _were_ involved with that little surprise. All Ji-Ho would admit to is that you recommended good hot dog places." A sniff. "Good choice, by the way. They were delicious." He pours two glasses of ice water and offers one to Javi. "I wasn't even aware you knew him."
"You're so cute." And back to the mantis again, with a little crook of one index finger in a sized-down wave. Mantis-sized.
Having greeted her appropriately and received as much of a response as he's likely to get, Javi straightens up and turns back around to the other man, still grinning. "Mm hmm," he says with a nod. "If you're gonna do payback hot dogs, you gotta get the best ones, right?" Clearly. He takes the offered glass, taking a sip from it before he continues, "Yeah, I know him. He's cool. I mean, kinda weird," he amends, "but it's fine." They're all weird, after all. "Just all the here-then-not-here stuff. Gets me every time still."
"Like Batman in the movies," Solomon suggests with a grin. "You think you're talking to him, then turn around and poof, he's gone." He takes his water and waves Javi towards the couch as he takes a seat in one of the leather chairs. "How have you been?" Another look towards the backpack. "I've seen that before. The graveyard?"
"Yep," Javi replies, "exactly like that. Fucking wild." He shakes his head, but he seems amused by it, if also a //little// creeped out. He heads easily toward the couch when directed that way, though, settling down as he slips the backpack off his shoulders and sets it down in front of him. "Oh, you know," he continues, "good. Just doing my thing. Things are going good." His smile warms a little bit there, though he's distracted from it by the mention of his backpack. "Oh, yeah, yes." He nods, then leans down to unzip it. If Solomon looks, he might catch a glimpse of any number of things -- the salt, of course, and the little handheld vacuum he'd used to scoop it up, but also some candles, a red bandana, a smaller bag that looks full...and eventually, a notebook, which is what he ends up pulling out. "So I kinda got a thing I was hoping maybe you could help me with." Yet another in his endless list of //things//.
Solomon's smile widens at the new warmth in Javi's already warm expression. "Yes. I heard you were getting along very well with _someone_. Having fun, I hope." There's that teasing gleam in his eyes as he leans forward a little, watching things being pulled out of the backpack. "Oh, this sounds like an interesting thing. More ghosts? And you know I will, of course."
Javi's gaze lifts at Solomon's comment, and after a moment he lets out a laugh. It's definitely not embarrassed -- not even really self-conscious, or at least only in a pleasant way. And he certainly doesn't deny it. "Mm hmm," he says, "it's good. I mean, really new but yeah. I am. But just, like, the appropriate amount." It is also a joke, though it's fond, and not at all derisive. "'Cause, you know. He can't have //too// much fun." God forbid.
It's all he says about it, though, because he did come with a purpose today. "Yeah," he confirms, "more ghosts. Always these guys." Still, that's oddly fond, too, if in a different way, and he passes the notebook to Solomon. "So there's something in there that this one wants," he continues, "but it's in some kinda code and I can't crack it. And he's not one of the ones that has all his memories and shit so he's not being real fucking helpful about it."
Solomon takes the notebook, eyes lighting up. "A _code_? How delightful. I'm not a cryptographer, but I do regularly do puzzles." He settles back in his seat to flip through the book, although his eyes flick back and forth from that to Javi. "Mm. Only the exact optimal amount of fun, huh? Not who I thought you'd be into." It's not disapproving, although it is a little surprised.
Once it's passed along, Javi sits back and reaches for his water again to take another sip -- he doesn't try to look over Solomon's shoulder to try and read it. He's probably done enough unsuccessful trying to read it. Though actually, once Solomon really looks at it, he can see it's not in //code// -- at least, not exactly. It's actually shorthand.
Meanwhile, now that he's done his part in bringing the thing, Javi can focus on the other thing. "I mean," he says with a little wave of his empty hand, "he just says he's not that fun but it's bullshit, he just has the kinda fun he likes and it's more, like...you know. Chill. Think he thought I was gonna want to go skydiving all the time or something." Another laugh escapes him, before he shrugs. "I dunno. Just something about him. Makes me wanna organize my life while I'm messing up his tie." Which may not //completely// explain it, but it does make him grin.
Solomon squints at the notebook. "...oh. Okay. This is Pitman." Solomon stands up and goes to rummage through a drawer. He pulls out a battered old paperback that had been shoved into the back end of a drawer, waves it at Javi. It says: Shorthand for Business and Life. "Everywhere used to teach this shit. Back in the 1950s and earlier, anyway. Once voice recorders and then portable keyboards came into vogue, it just wasn't seen as useful." He grabs a pen and notebook of his own and wanders back to his seat. As he starts to translate - occasionally peeking back at the book - he says, "I dunno him very well, but what I've seen, I like. Just...be careful?" A glance up.
"Man," Javi remarks, impressed bordering on awed, "you really do know everything, huh?" He sits forward, resting his forearms on his knees so he can peer at the book Solomon pulls out. "Even got a thing to translate it. That makes sense, though. Like I said, this one can't really say much but he kinda feels like maybe he could be from back then." The translating reveals what one might expect from a journal -- daily life things, thoughts and feelings, some more interesting than others but nothing yet that seems particularly 'unfinished business'-like.
He's still focused on the latter part too, though, and he's happy with the pronouncement -- but the end does make his eyebrows raise. "Is that, like, be careful 'cause I'm your friend and you don't wanna see me get hurt? Or like...a specific 'be careful?'" It's all said a little bit like he's thinking out loud, though something seems to strike him a moment later and he amends quickly, "You don't gotta spell it out. You can just say a or b." Because presumably he would take a different approach with each. Of course, maybe it's both!
"I choose option c - all of the above," Solomon murmurs. Most of his attention appears to be on the books, now. "Although not _that_ specific. Just...any of the weirdos like me have some serious baggage. We don't always think like humans do, even when we try. In my experience, the people who try the hardest to control it are the ones who have something that _needs_ to be controlled. So. Be careful."
"Hm." Javi sits back again, nodding slowly as he considers the answer. He really //does// consider it, too -- no writing it off as someone being overly cautious. It takes him a while, maybe even as long as a full minute, to reply. "That's fair," he finally says; and then: "I'll be careful."
There's more of the same in the book -- at least a few more days of it. Actually, perhaps more boring. That is, until Solomon comes to a gap. Since the entries are all dated, he can see it easily. It's about seven years' worth of one, actually. And after it, the entries change. They're all about a daughter. Every single one he manages to translate.
Solomon just nods; he doesn't belabor the point. He reaches for his drink. The moment he hits the change can be clearly seen. His face changes, as he flips back and forth between pages, checking. Then he moves on, quickly translating a bit more. "This guy mention anything about a kid? Everything after this date is all about her."
Javi may not be able to translate shorthand, but he can easily notice when that shift happens. He sits up a little straighter, leaning forward eagerly until he's not so much sitting on the couch as perched on the extreme edge, where the slightest push could have him standing. "No," he replies after another pause, though this time it's quicker. "He said a name, though. Katherine?" Yes, that's the one in the journal -- or at least, probably. She's called Kate in the pages, though. "What's it say about her?"
The answer to //that// that Solomon has found so far is the sort of thing that one might say about one's child whom one obviously loves -- but there's a distance to it. Something removed, a sense of watching from afar. It talks about school, going to the park, things she's done, all in a very loving way, but not like the person was //in// it, even though it doesn't specifically //say// he wasn't.
"Kate's what she's called here," Solomon murmurs. He doesn't otherwise answer immediately. Instead, as he translates, there's a melancholy that creeps in around the edges of his expression - something not sympathetic, but empathetic. Something that, perhaps, sees itself in what's written. At last he says, "Nothing really specific. It's sort of chronicalling her day to day. I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't have custody, though. It's all things _she_ did - not things that they did together, you know?"
"Oh, okay. Makes sense." It's said quietly, though, and then Javi falls silent again, watching the other man instead. It's a close study, the far more intense one that seems to happen when he gets all that energy focused in the same way -- right up until something makes his eyes drop away again and down to his glass. Maybe it's the sadness that's made its way onto Solomon's face, the sort he definitely recognizes and also hits a little close to the //last// time he was here, that didn't actually end that well.
"Damn," he finally murmurs, "that sucks." He starts to turn the glass around in his hands, considering it for a few seconds. "Maybe he wants us to give it to her or something. You think?"
Solomon puts the sadness away with the ease of someone who has been doing it for a while. "Could be," he says. "Or at least give her something. Or check on her? Did he have a last name? We could look her up on the internet. She might not even still be in Chicago. People move. And, uh, maybe see what happened that they're not in contact. This ghost of yours could have forgotten that he was an asshole to her, or her mom, or whatever."
"Yeah." Javi's posture eases a little bit back from that hover on the edge of the couch, actually //sitting// again as he considers that, too. "He might know," he confirms, "and he just didn't tell me, but I could ask him again. I'd have to do a whole thing, though. Like, a circle and stuff to talk to him 'cause I dunno if he has a thing that makes him show up or whatever. But when I got a specific question to ask it's easier to get 'em to answer even when they're like he is." Though he does not set things up immediately in Solomon's apartment, which is polite of him. "Then we could maybe find out more if we had it, yeah."
Solomon looks around the room. "Is there enough room in here? Or we could use the guest room. So long as you promise me the dude's not gonna show up and start throwing ectoplasm everywhere, Slimer-style." A flash of teeth. "If you wanna do it now, anyway. I don't want to step on your toes if you prefer to do your ghost summoning in private." His eyes twinkle.
Javi snorts, and then shakes himself quickly a little bit, like he's dislodging something or other, before he leans down to grab the backpack and stand up. "I know you wanna see me do it," he says with another grin. "Not gonna deprive you of my cool shit when you're helping me out, don't worry." He's mostly teasing -- even if he does think Solomon would probably want to see it. "We can do it in the guest room," he decides after one more moment's consideration. "Pretty sure he don't got nothing crazy going on. He's just, like...sad. So, yeah. You might feel really sad."
"Of course I wanna see you do it," Solomon says, cheerfully. "It's fucking cool." With that, he stands up and goes to open the guest room. It's...a remarkably ordinary sort of room. There aren't even any terrariums in here. There's normal furniture, a couple of landscape paintings on the wall, a large bed, small dresser, and in one corner, what looks like a wooden toy box, currently closed and locked. There is, thankfully, space for a circle. "Sad, huh? I think I can handle sad." Its wry.
"Mm hmm," Javi concedes, a //little// more seriously. "It's pretty cool." He follows along to the guest room, and takes a moment to look around and survey the appropriateness of the space. His eyes linger on the toy box for a few seconds, and maybe there's a little softening of his expression when they do, but he doesn't comment, or ask. He just says, "This'll work," and sets the bag down again, opening it and starting to set out those candles in a very accurate circle, as big as the room will allow.
He glances up at Solomon as he does it, but again, there's no denying that the man could probably handle sad. "Okay." He resumes what he was doing, becoming a bit more businesslike. "So," he continues, "with this one, it's not a conversation, really. Simple questions only. You get the best answers if it's a yes-no or one word. Think Ouija board, you know? So if you think of anything else that'd be good to ask, try to put it like that."
Solomon mostly stays out of the way as Javi sets things up, going to sit on the bed while he watches. He seems to be taking mental notes on how Javi is doing it. He glances up at the instructions and nods. "What about multiple choice?" he asks, with a grin. Then holds up a hand. "Got it. And our goal here is to figure out what the ghost wants you to do so that he can go into the light and stop bugging you?"
Unlike his usual slightly haphazard manner, Javi is quite precise with this, just like he had been that evening in the graveyard with the salt knot. Once he's laid out the candles, he reaches into the backpack for the bag, and begins to pull out four smooth black stones which he places at various intervals. If Solomon is aware of things like that, he might note that they're placed like a compass rose, with each one at pretty much exactly the point of the four cardinal directions. Finally, he removes a red one, which he places down without hesitation, too. This one //looks// random, but the exactness in his manner makes it clear that it is not.
"Yep," he replies as he works, "pretty much. Then at least we got something to go on. Maybe we're not gonna be able to do it but we can worry about that later. Not gonna do an exorcism today and I definitely won't try to do it in your place. They get madder about that usually."
Finished with the set up, he finally pulls out a long lighter and moves carefully around to light the candles. "Just stay out of the circle," he says as he goes, "but you don't gotta be quiet or nothing. You probably won't hear him but you'll know when he's here." Once all the candles are lit, he settles himself in the center, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.
"Can't imagine why," Solomon drawls. "It's not like you're booting them off a whole plane of reality or anything." He grins, but eyes the circle with something that's both keenly interested, and just a little wary. Power of any sort has its dangers. Despite what Javi says, he nods rather than speaks once the medium has stepped into the circle. He shifts on the bed, careful to keep his long legs well clear of the markings. His attention is all on Javi, now - and with the younger man's eyes closed, he doesn't bother to hide the slight pinch of concern.
"Right? Like, come on. No big deal." Javi obviously does take this seriously -- but that doesn't mean he can't laugh about it a //little//.
That's all he does, though, before he gets quiet, too. He continues to breathe, settling more deeply into the seated position in the circle. And in what's probably the most noticeable difference between right now and the usual, he //stills//. He's almost never truly still, always shifting or tapping a finger or looking around, allowing some of the buzzing energy he has at all times to leak out so that it doesn't accidentally explode. But not now. His only movement is the almost imperceptible rise and fall of his chest.
It takes a while. This isn't anything sudden, or flashy. Quite different from when he'd called the other ghost, and there'd been an immediate reply alongside that slam of power. This time it's so subtle that it's hard to mark the exact moment of the shift -- only that Solomon will realize that the room has taken on a bone-deep chill, something far beyond anything that could be reproduced even with central air. And it's around that time that the sadness cuts through, too. The Lost can probably manage to push it aside, separate what he knows in his head to what he might suddenly feel, because despite the profundity of that despair, it's not //his//.
For whatever reason, though, Javi can't. He may be more susceptible in his current state, but he also does seem to take on the emotions around him even in the most normal of times, not only picking up on them but reflecting them back. Right now, that means that there's a hitch of breath that can only be a sob, and tears suddenly streaming down his face. However, he puts them aside in his own way. He doesn't try to pretend it's not happening, but it doesn't stop him from moving ahead. "Okay." His voice is choked, but about as steady as he can possibly make it. "He's here."
In the first moment that Solomon's breath makes a cold plume in the humid, Chicago air, the Lost straightens and loses all pretense of amusement. He shivers from the sudden cold, and when Javi starts to cry, he stands up abruptly. Only the previous warning not to enter the circle stops him from moving forward. Instead, he paces around its edges, eyes on Javi. The manner is more predatory than anxious, although that seems to be unconscious. "Is the thing he needs for us to do related to his daughter?" he asks, then frowns. "Wait. Should I ask him or you?" He doesn't ask _are you okay_.
"Me." Javi's eyes are still closed, and also unlike usual, if he even notices Solomon start to pace he doesn't immediately turn to look. He just sits there, still crying but still pushing through it to do what needs to be done. "Is what you need us to do related to Katherine?" he asks, just slightly amended.
There's no answer that Solomon can hear, but the room gets even colder -- hard to believe that was possible, but maybe that's an answer in and of itself. If it isn't, though, Javi supplies, "Yeah." He sniffs audibly, then asks one of his own: "What's your name?" Another pause; then: "Your full name. Last name." But he must have gotten it, because a few seconds later he says, "Ivan Andric. Okay, what else?" This is probably to Solomon."
Solomon shudders under the cold. His hands come up to rub at his arms, lower and upper, as he continues to pace. "Andric. Is Katherine Andric your daugher's name? Do you want us to give her something physical?" He mutters, to Javi rather than the ghost, "The entries in the book are dated, so I figure we can work out her age for ourselves, if needed."
Javi dutifully repeats the questions -- first answer is 'yes,' as is the second -- before he nods slowly. "Yeah," he murmurs back in response to Solomon, "probably easier. Pretty sure he ain't gonna know." This is definitely a very different experience than the other ghost who had seemed quite self-aware, even if he was also dead.
"Do you want us to give her the notebook?" he asks after that, and then a moment later he supplies, "Yeah, he does. Anything else?"
Solomon hmms. "Does he want us to give her anything other than the notebook?" A longer pause. "Does he...no, nevermind. How would we even make that work?" A sharp shake of his head at whatever question he cut himself off from asking. Solomon finally comes to rest again on the bed, but perched there lightly, like any spectral phenomenon might have him bouncing to his feet again. "I don't...have any other questions. None that I think he would know, or that are fair to ask him."
There's no rushing him through it. Javi waits for as long as Solomon takes to reply, without interjecting or asking anything further, either. And despite what he'd said about asking through him, as Solomon goes through those thoughts, there's a //slight// rattle of one of those paintings on the walls. Not enough to make it fall, but enough to notice. That's all, though -- no vomiting ectoplasm or anything else, and when he decides not to ask anything else, Javi just nods. "Yeah. If we need to do something later we can always try again."
He takes another deep breath, letting it out slowly, and his brows pull together with more focused concentration. He remains still, but the stillness has a slightly different quality to it. He's definitely doing something, even if only in his own mind.
Whatever it is, though, eventually it works. In the same way it had come, the cold recedes, only the memory of it remaining. Javi holds for another minute just to be sure, but eventually he moves, reaching a hand up to wipe across his face as he stretches out. Carefully, so as not to knock the candles and set something on fire, but enough to make it clear the presence is truly gone. Or at least, relegated to twilight. "Fuck."
Like any good host, Solomon has a (dusty, clearly never used or opened) box of tissues on the bedside table. He reaches for it as Javi closes out the ritual, opening it up and fishing out the first tissue from the pile. Once he's very sure that the ritual is over, he reaches out to offer the box to Javi. "That was intense. Like he's nothing but a manifest pile of regrets and sorrows."
Javi accepts the tissues when they're handed to him, taking a couple out and using one to wipe his face. The others go into his pocket, just in case. "Yeah." His voice is low, still thick but a little calmer now that the wave of spectral emotion is gone, too. "Most of 'em are like that," he continues as he stands up, shaking himself out. "Just...whatever they were at the moment they died, and that's it. So yeah, kinda tough to get stuff out of 'em." He starts to move around the so he can blow out the candles. "Guess we'll see if that's all he needed, if we can even find her. Hopefully there's nothing else."
"It the internet can't find her, then they're doing this whole technological dystopia panopticon thing wrong," Solomon says, with a faint smile. He moves to help put away anything he thinks he can without _ruining it forever_. "Me, I hope she knows shorthand, or else she's going to be super confused when she gets that notebook. We can give her the textbook, too. I don't know if she'll actually try to translate things, but...well. He thought about her a lot. Maybe she'll think about him a little, too."
Solomon's first comment draws a laugh -- at least Javi seems to be bouncing back quickly from the affects of the ghost. "Yeah," he says, "right? We'll find her." He doesn't direct Solomon very much, so the things must be okay to be touched, and it doesn't take them long before everything has been put away again. "He did. So...yeah. Hopefully." He looks up, and despite the //slight// lingering sadness, his smile settles pretty well. "Thanks," he says. "I know you don't mind doing it but still. I appreciate it."
He shoulders the bag to get ready to go, but right before he does, something stops him. "Oh, uh...there's one other thing." He reaches up to rub a hand over his forehead as he continues, "Not about this. It's about Darwin?" He pauses to make sure they're on the same page with the sudden shift, before he continues, "Think I saw something on him the other day. You know how he's always wearing all those coats?" //Does// he? Well. "It wasn't, like, a ghost? But I'm pretty sure it was something, and he was talking about spirits, and like, that he sometimes made bargains with 'em, and I'm not sure if it was just me or what but yeah. Pretty sure he don't know about it. But there's something. Looked like weird sparkling snowflakes."
"I appreciate that you appreciate it," Solomon says, with a toothy grin. But despite the teasing, his expression suggests he really _does_. He walks Javi to the door, listening. "I've noticed he seemed cold a lot. We haven't spent much time together, though. I half-thought it was just because he thought trench coats look cool." His voice is very dry, and a touch mocking, when aimed at the werewolf. And yet, concern does flicker at the mention. "Huh. I don't know much about spirits, but if you wanna talk about it with him, what you saw, I don't mind being on hand. I don't know if it'll help."
Javi levels a //look// at Solomon for that first dry remark, but it's at least a little amused. Slightly. That amusement fades into more obvious concern when the other man's does, though, and he nods. "Okay. Yeah, that'd be good." He sounds a bit relived when he adds, "Always good to have backup when you're like, so hey I know you're weird but did you know you're even weirder than you thought?" He huffs, shaking his head, but then he lifts a hand before he reaches to open the door. "Anyway, yeah. I'll see you. Have a good one." He waves, before he turns to head out the door.
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