Logs:Identity Crisis

Identity Crisis

Players

21 August, 2022

Miel and Gareth come to an understanding

Darwin has very kindly arranged a meeting for Gareth and Miel in a diner just around the corner from Darwin's apartment, one that Gareth at least frequents... frequently. He's here, on time, in a booth. He has coffee, he always has coffee. He's jittery, foot bouncing on the floor, either because of the coffee or because of the content of the meeting.

Miel arrives on time. He's dressed up but you can't really tell; that is, the blue button down and dark skinny jeans are the nicest clothes he currently owns, but they're not anything special. It takes him a moment to recognize Gareth even though they've met, but he joins him at the booth on long strides and slides his hand along the table as he sits down across from him. He says, "Hi."

"Hi," Gareth says, his tone neither friendly nor unfriendly, putting the cup down with a click as he pushes it along the table. "You want something to eat?" he asks, polite to the last. "I mean if you're gonna axe murder me can I at least get a burger first?" he offers.

Miel leans back against the booth with a little slump in his usual absently correct posture. He tilts his head back, rumpling his hair against the booth cushion as he squints. "Why do you think I'm going to kill you?" he asks. "Actually, more importantly, if you think I'm going to kill you, why did you show up?"

Gareth gives a wide shrug of his shoulders, coat riding high. "Because you're *interesting*," he tells Miel like somehow that makes it okay. "And Darwin's important to me and to be honest if you killed me he'd be super mad with you and you'd lose couch privileges."

"I've never killed anyone," Miel says. He feels like this is probably the best place he can start. His hands flat on the table, his heel jiggling faintly against the floor, so that he and Gareth roughly mirror each other, two restless legs together not quite in tandem. "And if I were going to, I have no idea why I'd start with you."

"Okay fair point there are probably better people," Gareth admits before he leans forwards towards Miel. "Look, end of the day, I don't... really... care..." it's a bald-faced lie, and one he's desperately forcing out between clenched teeth. He *really* wants to know. "...I just need to know that Darwin's safe. And you're not some alien pod person who's going to murder him and steal his identity. But then I guess the *other* Miel is also alive so you don't need to kill people to absorb their identity," he muses to himself.

Miel rubs his eyes with the pads of middle finger and thumb. "I haven't absorbed anyone," he says. "And if I were going to steal an identity, why would there be someone out there living an upper middle class life with my face while I schlub around Chicago like a pathetic loser borrowing couch space?" His shoulders tighten and then his hands flatten on the table again. "I kinda knew this was a mistake," he says, "because I don't know what to tell you. But I respect that you care about Darwin and if you really can't set your mind at ease about this in any other way, I'll look for another place. I don't think that's the solution he wanted but I don't know what to do."

Gareth shakes his head. "Man, I don't want to kick you off a perfectly good couch," he says, softening. "I've slept there a few times myself," he admits with a half-smile, shrugging one shoulder. "Look, it's *weird* and it's *intriguing* but I get that whatever's going for you," he says with a wave of his hand to encompass Miel, "isn't something you want to tell me. Does Darwin know, whatever it is? 'cos he's a massive fucking doofus who is *ridiculously* loyal and warm, and he'd probably give you the shirt off his back if you asked for it," he says, his eyes unfocusing briefly before he forces himself to look at Miel again. "But he's not *stupid*, and if he knows and he's okay with it then, then I trust him."

Miel chews on the inside of his lower lip, staring thoughtfully at Gareth. He tries to figure out how to answer the question. "He thinks he knows," he says finally. "I haven't deceived him. I'm not sure it's possible for him to actually understand, but that probably sounds pretty dramatic." His smile warms his features and he says: "I never wanted to create a problem. For anybody. But all this is really personal. You have no reason to trust me."

"Sure but you're not staying on *my* couch," Gareth points out, watching Miel closely, giving just the faintest hint of a smile. "I'm not going to tell you to leave Darwin alone. He's a big boy, he can make his own decisions about who he lets into his apartment. I just... he's like the one good thing in my life, man. He watches out for me and I just wanna make sure he's okay. That's all."

"I can give you my word that Darwin has nothing to fear from me," Miel says, and his shrug rolls through him as he leans forward, dropping his elbows on the table. "He was just kind enough to give me a place to stay."

"Okay," Gareth says with a nod. "And I give you my word I'll stop digging into you," he says with a nod, watching Miel with a scrutinizing gaze. "You doing okay?"

Miel returns Gareth's glance with a tilted smile. He props his elbow on the table, cups his cheek in the curve of his hand, and gives him a slanted look from beneath arched eyebrows. "Two ways to answer, really," he says. "But I have a place to stay. I have a few people willing to help me find work so I can live by my own hands. I'm alive. Got my health. I mean. Yeah. I'm okay. Tell me something, though. If you don't mind explaining."

Gareth raises an eyebrow, leaning in and mirroring Miel's posture, elbow on the table, chin in hand. "GOtta ask the question before I'll tell you if I mind," he laughs.

Miel's voice has dropped, felted soft. "Why were you so quick to assume that the one with nothing was the one who isn't real?"

Gareth startles at the question, caught out. "I uh... I mean you make a really good point," he says. "I guess... I just thought that... if *he* wasn't real you'd think someone would have noticed." Harsh.

Miel smiles. "You'd think," he says. He leans back again, his hands dropping to his lap to scour over his jeans, over his thighs. He draws a deep breath through his nose, lashes fanning over his cheeks for a moment as his eyes close. "You probably won't figure it out," he says, gently, "and if you did, you probably wouldn't believe it. All I can tell you is, question your assumptions. All of them, even the ones where the world makes sense and there's any kind of justice." He opens his eyes again, looking at Gareth as he scoots back to the edge of the booth bench. "--Then maybe you'll solve this puzzle."

Gareth stares at Miel, his gaze calculating. "That, Miel, sounds like one hell of a challenge," he says with a pleased smile as he leans back in the booth. "I like a challenge," he says, his voice low as he sizes Miel up.

Miel stands, letting fingertips rest ghost light on the surface of the diner's table as he meets Gareth's eyes. His gaze is dark and there's a heavy weight behind it, melancholic, as though it bears all the stillness that isn't reflected by his body in motion. He says, "Okay. Good luck," and he pauses for a moment. "It isn't his fault," he adds, and he turns away, then.

Gareth blinks, surprised by whatever he finds in Miel's face. And then he's gone, leaving ominous words hanging in the air. And Gareth sighs to himself, running a hand down his face. "Drop it, Gareth," he mumbles to himself. "No one's paying you. Oh fuck, burger." And he picks up the menu to order, and *try* and forget about Miel's not-case.