It's maybe a day after Javi has received the results of Solomon holding up his end of their bargain. There can't have been many hours between when it must have arrived -- by mail, what the heck, right? -- and when Solomon had received a text (not a paper letter, unfortunately) in return, requesting a meeting.
Javi had suggested a location in the Hyde Park area, and he's there right now, sitting on a bench with one ankle crossed over the other knee, the portfolio propped against the opposite leg as he thumbs through it. His expression doesn't exactly look pleased as he does it. But maybe that's just how he looks when he's reading. It's possible.
Solomon had class, which makes the campus meeting convenient for him, but does mean he's looking all professional as he emerges from his building. He's even got a little suitcase. He scans the area as he heads towards the arranged meeting place, moving carefully. When he sees the man at the park bench, a grin flashes across his face, and he makes a wide circle, intending to come up from behind and sneak on Javi (again). His eyes sparkle as he closes in - the professor really does enjoy this sort of thing too much.
Javi is still looking engrossed in what he's reading. And again, not pleased. Kind of worried, actually. Maybe? It might be hard to tell from Solomon's angle -- and also probably more so when the other man starts to make that circle toward him. It would certainly seem like a perfect opportunity to go three for three on making the younger man jump.
However.
This time, when Solomon gets within a few yards, something happens. He's seen a ghost materialize before, but this isn't //exactly// like that -- it's a sudden warping of the space in front of him, like the air is pulling together and thickening, coalescing into something different in front of his eyes. A face, and some part of a body. The face is the clearest part, though. It's hard to tell, because it isn't as fully formed as the Baron was, half here and half still in twilight. It's clear enough to be made out, though, and what //can// be made out looks a whole lot like Javi. Younger, maybe 18 or 19, slightly finer-featured and a little more serious, but the resemblance is there.
"Stop it." The words are intelligible, but sound like they're coming from far away. "You're an asshole." There's a sudden chill in the air; it's not like the booming hammer of the Baron, but there. Not a purposeful scare, but the unmistakable presence of something //other//. Almost as soon as the face can be made out, it's gone, though the chill lingers.
Solomon hisses, actually //hisses// when that shape forms in front of him, and takes a swipe at the air with his fingernails, hopping back into a defensive stance. He also drops the briefcase, and it lands with a rather solid thump on the grass. All in all? He looks like a crazy person for a moment, and yes, people look.
Well, there's no way Javi's going to miss the approach now. But he was already turning anyway, right about when the voice spoke. So, he sees the whole incident. Someone might have thought he'd have taken at least a //little// pleasure in Solomon getting a little of his own back -- but on the contrary, he winces, and there's no way he's a good enough actor to sell the surprise and dismay that flickers across his face. He clearly did not participate in the decision to do what just happened.
"Hey," he says as he gets up, closing the portfolio to hold it and starting toward Solomon. He doesn't get //too// close, though. "Sorry about that." He directs a vaguely sheepish look toward one of those spectators. Maybe he didn't //look// like he did anything, but if he apologizes, they might think he did something, and not that Solomon was reacting to something basically invisible. Whether it works or not. "You okay?"
"Of course I'm fine," Solomon snaps, looking embarrassed by the way heads turn and Javi apologizes in equal measure. He glares at the open air where the spectre //was// and sniffs. "I'm not harmed." He bends down to grab his suitcase and brush off the damp grass clinging to it. He gives Javi an up and down look. "Who's your friend?"
"Okay." Javi's gaze drops, his shoulders hunching a little at the tone, and even though he's not really that close, he takes a half-step back anyway. "Sorry." He reaches his empty hand up to rub it over his forehead, looking down at the papers in his hand -- he's still holding them carefully, despite whatever had been on his mind when he'd been looking at them before. "Um, Nacho. Ignacio." It's not exactly an answer that clarifies things, but he's looking a little embarrassed right now, too. And then he's leaving it there, as if he can just gloss over it without further explanation. "Sorry, just kinda wanted to, um...ask you about some of this." He lifts the papers to punctuate this.
"Ignacio." Solomon says it like a man putting a name on a //list// somewhere. But he doesn't ask who he is - at least, not yet. Besides, the guy's dead. Maybe he figures there's not much he can do to him, now. He studies Javi's body language for a long moment, then lets out a breath. "Don't apologize. You didn't do anything. And I was going to startle you. It was a fair call." He gestures towards the bench. "I'm glad you have questions. Let's sit, and you can ask whatever you like."
There's very obvious relief when Solomon doesn't ask any follow ups, and Javi manages a smile when he's let off the hook. It's a little weak, but it's genuine. Of course, it seems to be difficult for him to have an expression that //isn't//. "Yeah, okay," he says, nodding a couple of times and starting back to the bench to sit down so he can open it back up. The smile drops off again pretty much right when he does, and those painfully obvious expressions might even be a little amusing, with how they're warring with each other on his face. Gratitude is one, yes, but there's also concern, some more embarrassment, very faint hope but quite a bit of suspicion...it's a lot.
"So," he continues once Solomon has sat down, "I guess this doesn't really feel fair? Like you spent a shitton of time on this and you even got the stuff you said you'd pay for and all I'm doing is putting some sugar water on a window and I don't really see how this matches up with that."
When Javi moves, so does Solomon. He still seems a bit //grumpy//, but let's face it, it's his own damn fault. So although he huffs a bit when he sits down on the bench beside Javi, the irritation is something he just seems content to deal with. He watches the other man, instead, and the play of emotions there seems to help turn some of that huffiness into amusement.
At poor Javi's expense, judging by the twinkle that returns to his eyes. "You don't have to," he points out. "But for one, it didn't take me that long. I don't sleep much, and part of my service to the university is sitting down with undergrads who haven't the faintest fucking idea what they want to do with their lives. A lot of those resources are just pulled from files I keep. Second, it's what I promised to do. Use my skills and resources to help you. If I was in a position to just give you a job, I'd have to, by my word. I'm not, but I can pay application fees or whatnot. So I must." He hesitates, as if content to leave it there. But then he adds, "Third, you don't understand how much I...need. What you provide. I've slept better."
If Javi was in a state to notice the amusement, he might even have thought it //was// a fair trade for what happened -- but he isn't, at the moment. He's still looking down at the papers, his brows pulling together as Solomon speaks like he wants to argue with it, but he can't quite find his 'in.' His mouth even opens a couple of times, but each time it closes again and he shakes his head. Only ones does his gaze lift and fix somewhere else, potentially on some unseen entity or other -- one in particular, probably -- but he absolutely does not address him if he's there.
"Okay." It's reluctant, a little grudging, but he does say it. "Well...thanks. Thank you, 'cause yeah." He shrugs, then starts to flip through the papers again. "Prolly don't need you to do that part. I mean, I graduated and stuff but it was pretty tough so maybe not the best way to go, don't want you to waste the money. But the stuff is really good, so yeah. Thank you. "
"Don't thank me," Solomon says, with a shake of his head. "It's not a favor. It's a bargain and I'm just fulfilling my part." He sets the briefcase on his lap and opens it up to check on his belongings. And, apparently, to snag a snack pack of Oreos. He opens it, pulls out a cookie for himself, then wordlessly offers Javi one from the crinkly plastic. "What is it that you want to do? If you could choose."
"Well, still." A little stubbornly, though Javi's smile is back -- small, but present. "Glad you're sleeping better, too. That's good." He pauses to reach and take an Oreo, and then that smile spreads into something wider and more natural as he adds, "Don't worry, prolly be back on your game soon." That is, managing to actually startle him.
The question gives him pause, though, and he sits back, twisting the Oreo to separate the two halves as he considers. "Kinda wanted to be a EMT," he eventually replies. "Feel like maybe I could do it. Just like, studying for the paper part that's hard. You know what I mean?"
Solomon snorts. "I need to figure out how to scare a ghost," he says, with a shrug. He devours his cookie in neat, sharp bites. "An EMT is a good career. Still takes some schooling, or an apprenticeship. What did you find hard about school? What's the most difficult things about studying, for you?" He considers the two cookies left in the pack with predatory interest.
Solomon's comment draws a real laugh from Javi, and he shakes his head. "Good luck," he says. "I ain't figured out how to scare him yet. Maybe you could do it better, though." Well, Solomon is in the business of scaring people and things. "He's good, though," he offers after another moment, casting a vaguely apologetic look in Solomon's direction. "He won't do nothing to you that's gonna hurt you."
He brings one half of the Oreo up to lick the frosting off -- look, you have to eat it right if you're going to eat it -- as he shrugs. "Just kinda hard for me to focus on that stuff," he says. "Like, you want me to make a fucking complicated-ass circle with salt that takes an hour? That's fine. But sitting down and reading a book is tough. Like I'll be reading it and then I get to the end and I won't really remember what it said so I gotta read it again."
Solomon does not eat his Oreos correctly, and that is what truly makes him a monster. "Is it the reading? For example, have you tried videos or audiobooks? Sometimes hearing someone explain the material works better for people than just reading it. How did you learn to make your complicated-ass circles?" He flashes a smile.
Wow, Solomon. //Wow//. It's horrifying, really, but apparently not a friendship dealbreaker. Once Javi's frosting is gone, he presses the two cookies together and eats them, but it seems he's sticking with one cookie for the moment. Possibly a good choice for everyone around him. "Don't laugh," he cautions, even though he looks like he might be about to, "but yeah, watching YouTube sometimes. I mean, not every single pattern, but they got anything you want on the internet, man, it's crazy." His eyebrows raise, and his head tilts a little to one side as he considers. "Guess maybe there's recordings of those ones somewhere. That'd be easier."
"I find that horrifying, not amusing," Solomon says, deadpan. "Not that you learned it that way, but that it's out there to learn. What if ButtCrack69's video that //says// it's about placating an angry ghost turns out to be about summoning an extra-dimensional horror? You might be smart enough to test it, but imagine the average edgy sixteen year old who thinks they're gonna be a real witch or something." He gives a delicate shudder. And gets another cookie to nibble on. "But...for the EMT training, video instruction is less perilous, and might prove to be useful. Do you have any difficulty with text itself? Words getting scrambled, that sort of thing."
Javi snorts, and he has to nod to acknowledge that it is, indeed, a little horrifying. "Yeah," he admits, "kinda. You gotta wonder how much shit's here 'cause some dumbass was tryna be cool in front of their buddies on Halloween." Is there a //slightly// embarrassed flicker there again, despite the smile? Surely not. It obviously all turned out fine.
He sits up a little straighter at the last question, though, like his back is suddenly up. "I can read," he says -- a little defensively -- but a moment later he //also// has to acknowledge that no one said he couldn't, or implied it, and actually Solomon is being very helpful, and not judgmental in any way, so when he continues a moment later the apologetic note is back. "But yeah," he admits. "Kinda like that. And it takes a while."
Solomon doesn't miss that flicker, and his smile grows wider. "Mmmhmm," is all he says about Halloween adventures, but it //implies// a lot. When Javi's back goes up, though, he doesn't immediately snap back. He just stares at the man, waiting. When the clarification and apologetic note follow, there's a slight nod. "I see. If you're willing, you should get assessed for what might be going on with that. Not only is there instruction available to help you work around it, but you might be able to receive accomodations for your EMT exams."
Another story for another day, perhaps. Javi certainly doesn't seem like he's about to tell it now. He's focused on the rest, and while he frowns lightly at the last words, it's more thoughtful than anything else. "Maybe," he replies after a long pause. "Okay. Yeah, maybe." He looks down at the papers in his hand again, carefully pulling them a little closer as if he's afraid they might disappear.
"Did you know about any of this stuff before?" he asks suddenly. "I mean, before you got...you know. And came back. Did you know about..." He looks around, but now that people aren't being startled by mostly invisible beings, no one's paying them any attention. Still, he lowers his voice. "Werewolves and vampires and shit."
Solomon shakes his head. "Nope." Then, he hesitates. "I knew that some things were fucked up. You hear...stories, you know? But I wasn't interested in any of that nonsense. I just wanted to get up and out. First time I had any fucking inkling that any of this was real? I was running from some guys who wanted to kick the shit out of me, and this voice in a tunnel said that if I went with it, they'd never find me. I figured," and now his voice is bitter and self-mocking, "that at least it was only one guy, and I could get out of anything he wanted to do to me. I was wrong about that.
"Yeah, right." It's also said quietly, though, more to acknowledge he's listening than to actually interject. Javi nods along, the thoughtful frown taking firmer hold of his expression, and the story makes him wince. "Fuck," he murmurs, shaking his head, and he leaves it there. His brand is different -- he cannot truly imagine this one, except to know it was horrific. "How'd you get out?" he asks. However, he does add quickly, "I mean, you can tell me to shut up if you want and I will. Just kinda like..." He shrugs, helplessly. "Like you said. I know about shit but I been keeping my head down mostly with the other stuff."
"I don't know." Solomon isn't looking at Javi, now. He's staring out into the green of the regular world, and trying very hard not to see somewhere else. "I don't...remember much of that, Javi. Nightmares, mostly. I think I was hunting something, and I got far enough way that I think," his brow furrows, "I think I wondered if I had to go back. If I couldn't just run. So, I did." He shakes his head, trying to clear it. "I can't. I can't." That's not to Javi as much as it is to himself, and now it's his shoulders that hunch, his body that curls in a little, protective and small.
Now that frown might as well be etched on Javi's face -- but he //did// ask, and despite a twinge of regret, he hasn't suddenly stopped wondering. So, he listens, and as Solomon goes on his eyes widen, a hint of unease creeping in again. It's not the same kind of fear as when he'd //seen// Solomon, of course -- it's insidious, taking what he now knows Solomon to be and adding a tiny, twisted root.
He probably would have left it there anyway, but he //really// isn't going to ask anything else about it at that reaction from the other man. It's actually shocking, so much so that it takes a second for him to respond. Solomon isn't supposed to be the one who's scared. "Hey, I'm sorry," he says -- and then he lifts a hand slowly, and it hovers in the air for a few seconds before it comes down to pat the other man's back a little awkwardly, then eventually settle into a sort of weird quarter-hug. Unless it doesn't, since he won't press the issue if Solomon jerks away or something like that.
Solomon does, indeed, jerk away from the touch. His hand convulses tight around the little snack packet, and now the last Oreo is just Oreo chunks. "Don't," he snaps, thickly. "Don't fucking apologize, and don't fucking //touch me//." His voice is loud enough that, again, he's drawing //looks// from passersby. His throat works and he looks down between his needs, breathing hard. "It's fine," he mutters. "You're fine, it's fine. Everything is fine."
Javi does not need to be told twice. He pulls his hand back so fast it's like he's been burned, and he even scoots a little bit away on the bench. He's just giving the man space. That's all that is. Never mind that his eyes cut to the side like he's trying to secure an exit. But would that make this better, or worse? He has no idea. He //definitely// does not talk, though there's a very tiny flick of his hand by his leg, the sort that's probably meant to get rid of a certain invisible presence. He does it low down, though, and out of the way, probably with the hope that Solomon is too preoccupied to see it.
For once, Solomon is indeed too caught up in what's going on in his head to see Javi. He closes his eyes and takes deep, calming breaths. He reaches out and lays his hand flat on the bench between them, his finger tips caressing the material. Then he bends over far enough so that he can move his hand to the grass, and he strokes it the same way. Another deep breath, and he sits back up, his hands going primly back to his lap, and his eyes opened. "Sorry," he says, curtly. "It's not your fault. I'm fine."
Thank God. The ghost seems to have taken the hint, too -- there's no more need for flicking or talking or anything else that might disturb whatever's happening with Solomon right now. Javi won't be doing that again. Actually, he doesn't even look at him. He averts his eyes, not in embarrassment but with the sense that he's attempting to give the man some privacy, such as it is in a public space. Not //ignoring// it, but not interfering even by watching.
"No worries, Profe." And he leaves it there, with no follow up questions or even curious looks. He stays silent for several seconds instead, staring ahead of him as his mouth pulls a little bit to one side. He does speak again eventually, but it isn't to do with that at all. It's more like an offering, in the way he'd finally given his name, or his address. "It's my brother," he says. "Nacho. He's my brother."
"Sol," Solomon says, after a moment. "Call me Sol, yeah? Or Solomon, if you gotta be formal about it." He seems to have mostly recovered, or is doing a decent job of pretending. His fingers might be shaking a bit, but he's able to look at Javi again, thoughtfully. "I'm sorry," he says, at last. "He's still looking out for you? Good brother."
"Okay. Sol." Javi nods, the corner of his mouth pulling a little bit again, but this time with a smile. He looks down at the papers in his hands, taking in a deep breath before he lets it out slowly. "Thank you. And yeah." A little huff escapes him, and he shrugs. "They don't usually get stuck on people but I guess he got me back for being fucking annoying." Still, the words are very fond. "Don't really remember a lot about it, you know? Except the EMTs were really amazing."
He shrugs again, sitting forward and collecting the papers, readying himself to go even though he doesn't get up quite yet. "Thanks," he says as he lifts them up. "I know you had to but still."
"A good older brother always looks after their sibling," Solomon says, and there's something both regretful and fond in that. "When they're not, you know, just fucking with them because it's fun." A hint of a smile returns to him. He looks to Javi as he gathers his things. "Don't let me run you off." The thanks is ignored with a deliberate air. "Oh. I might need a favor in the next little while. It's not mandatory. I'll pay you for your time and effort."
"Hm, yeah." This time, Javi doesn't bother to try and hide the fact that his gaze lifts to settle in the air nearby, or the way his expression softens when he sees whatever he sees -- or when he speaks again, because it's obviously not to Solomon. "Shut up, pendejo. I'm older than you now."
Solomon's next words do stop him from going -- and his eyebrows raise as he looks back to his fully corporeal companion. "Oh yeah?" he asks, and he wastes no time in continuing, "What is it?" Maybe he should sound wary, but he does not, just curious. It may end up being his downfall, but hopefully not today!
Solomon snorts with amusement at the talking to the air, but there's regret and a little wistfulness there, as well. He doesn't interrupt it, but he watches it. "I might need to lure someone away from their apartment for a bit," he says. Then grimaces. "I know how that sounds. The guy's an asshole, but I don't need you to hurt him or anything. I just need to talk to someone and he's in the way."
Javi looks back to Solomon in time to catch that note of wistfulness, and his head tilts just slightly to one side as he studies Solomon more closely for a few moments. However, he doesn't pry right now -- he //does// file it away for later, though. Part of it might be because the favor he may be asked to do is a little surprising, too. "Huh. I mean, yeah," he admits with a little huff, "that really does sound kinda fucking creepy." But he doesn't actually sound like he's worried about it, even though he has to add, "Glad you don't need me to knock someone's head 'cause I can do okay in a pinch but I ain't really built for, like, serious shit." He glances down at himself with a huff, but then shrugs. "But sure," he confirms. "I can prolly do that. Just let me know."
Solomon smiles, and it's not a pleasant smile. "If I want someone dead, Javi, I don't have to outsource it. But it's good to know." He nods. "Good. Thank you. I do appreciate it, and I'll let you know when it's time." He moves to stand. "I should...let you go. I need to take a walk, I think."
"See," Javi remarks, shaking his head -- and while he's not //really// scared, there's maybe a little shiver that runs down his spine in response to that smile. "Fucking creepy as hell. This is why he don't tell me when you're sneaking up behind me and shit. Tryna teach me a lesson." Of course, he hasn't learned it yet, since he's apparently willing to get deeper into this relationship.
He stands, too, though to peel off in another direction. Before he does, he nods. "Okay," he says. "I'll see you, yeah? Take care." And with that, he turns to head off, still carefully holding the papers.
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