"What, you mean she doesn't fly back for rehearsal," Teddy deadpans and huffs a laugh. "That's fair, yeah. Very cool. That you're still best friends, I mean. Or, you know." She trails off. She generally doesn't think -- tries not to think -- about the fact that maybe the world is going on without them completely. Teddy hovers, a little on the edge of saying something, or asking Eddie what he thinks happens at home, but it feels a little like it would spiral into a Very Serious conversation.
Which he wouldn't mind; it wouldn't be the first time they've talked a little more honestly. At least, theoretically. But it's just -- this is nice, it's easy and fun. So back to laughingly comparing notes it is, and if Eddie notices that little uncertain pause, he doesn't say anything.
Teddy huffs a laugh when Eddie leans in, and tips their head a little. "I guess second's okay," they tease, all faux consideration. "I'm not the jealous type." They grin and move on. Actually, it's reassuring, here as they are in the liminal space of re-meeting outside that other universe. Teddy tends to start out a little careful of boundaries, polite, formal in the space they take up. Once they're surer someone won't react badly, that mien drops: they spread out, gesture more widely, get tactile and openly affectionate -- earlier and more readily than many people, if it's welcomed -- perform a little. Eddie leaning right into their space in this reality (or...more or less) reminds them that the over-half-century of being likeminded in that regard isn't a lie.
"Oh, those are badass," Teddy says, smiling and leaning in to see each new one, grinning widely at the horns-sign skeletal hand. "Wait, really?" She glances up at the mention of glowing in the dark. "That's sweet as fuck. I wonder..." That has gears turning in her head. "I'm definitely going to have to talk to them."
"And I thought Solvunn were the farmers," Teddy teases, about the weed. "Noted. I'm...probably not the most connected middleman, anyway. Although, I might want in on that, sometime, if you'd actually recommend it. Sometimes pot helps with post-seizure bullshit."
Huh. Has he ...told Eddie about epilepsy? He must have. In hundreds of years? Teddy can't remember, though, if they got to be friends before or after the symptoms of a seizure were largely relegated to the first moments of an Echo. At some point in forgetting everything, he sort of lost how all of it worked, it had been so long; only that it wasn't being spoken to by Gods and that, as such, he had an extra duty to the children people prayed for him to protect.
Teddy adds, "But busking! That's a great idea. Busking I can do. My band used to, the last one I was in, we were kind of a ...folk punk band, sort of?" They can't think of anyone in the 80s that does what Scrip does: usually they say things like You know the Dropkick Murphies? Appalachian, not Celtic. But he'll at least know folk. "We took the classics everyone had heard and just amped it way up." Teddy hmms. "I don't want to compete with you, though..."
"I like that attitude in a person," Teddy says with a little curl of amusement at one side of her smile. Both on their feet now, she gestures back toward the kitchen in a little formal wave. "I feel like I should give you the grand tour, or something. To your left! You'll see...uh, where you came in. And also the stairs, where there's a bedroom with a way bigger bed than I actually have, and a second bedroom because ...my brain put in space for my parents', I guess, but also, why the fuck not have company. If we keep going straight, there's the kitchen and the table." Teddy pauses to poke her head in and let Eddie do the same if he wants. It, like everything else, is about half way accurate and half wishful thinking. "And if...someone dreamed up a grocery for some reason...we can cook nearly anything. If you go out the back, there's a yard a lot like my house as a kid had, and a vegetable garden just like my grandmother's. But, back here on your left:"
The other side of the staircase, of course, going downstairs. Just an inset, plain wooden door that, when opened, swings at a slight angle to reveal concrete steps going downward and a light that Teddy flicks on. It's funny, how things work here because they should.
"The basement." Teddy heads in, pausing to glance behind themself "In real life, which this layout is kinda? this goes straight down and it's just a little root cellar. Probably had a generator and like, hot water heater, and theoretically us if there was ever a tornado, which I think there might've been all of once." As they go down, though, the stairs turn, and on the landing there are books of all kinds stacked. "But here..."
Teddy turns on another light at the last few steps, and it flickers on to show a much bigger room. Nearest them are beanbags, a worn but comfy looking couch, some speakers connected to a stereo, and a small TV with a very old Nintendo console underneath. Behind that, on top of a rug: three guitars of varying kinds and a bass on a long stand, a drumset, and mikes, with cords snaking to amps on either side. To one side there's a minifridge.
no subject
Which he wouldn't mind; it wouldn't be the first time they've talked a little more honestly. At least, theoretically. But it's just -- this is nice, it's easy and fun. So back to laughingly comparing notes it is, and if Eddie notices that little uncertain pause, he doesn't say anything.
Teddy huffs a laugh when Eddie leans in, and tips their head a little. "I guess second's okay," they tease, all faux consideration. "I'm not the jealous type."
They grin and move on. Actually, it's reassuring, here as they are in the liminal space of re-meeting outside that other universe. Teddy tends to start out a little careful of boundaries, polite, formal in the space they take up. Once they're surer someone won't react badly, that mien drops: they spread out, gesture more widely, get tactile and openly affectionate -- earlier and more readily than many people, if it's welcomed -- perform a little. Eddie leaning right into their space in this reality (or...more or less) reminds them that the over-half-century of being likeminded in that regard isn't a lie.
"Oh, those are badass," Teddy says, smiling and leaning in to see each new one, grinning widely at the horns-sign skeletal hand. "Wait, really?" She glances up at the mention of glowing in the dark. "That's sweet as fuck. I wonder..." That has gears turning in her head. "I'm definitely going to have to talk to them."
"And I thought Solvunn were the farmers," Teddy teases, about the weed. "Noted. I'm...probably not the most connected middleman, anyway. Although, I might want in on that, sometime, if you'd actually recommend it. Sometimes pot helps with post-seizure bullshit."
Huh. Has he ...told Eddie about epilepsy? He must have. In hundreds of years? Teddy can't remember, though, if they got to be friends before or after the symptoms of a seizure were largely relegated to the first moments of an Echo. At some point in forgetting everything, he sort of lost how all of it worked, it had been so long; only that it wasn't being spoken to by Gods and that, as such, he had an extra duty to the children people prayed for him to protect.
Teddy adds, "But busking! That's a great idea. Busking I can do. My band used to, the last one I was in, we were kind of a ...folk punk band, sort of?" They can't think of anyone in the 80s that does what Scrip does: usually they say things like You know the Dropkick Murphies? Appalachian, not Celtic. But he'll at least know folk. "We took the classics everyone had heard and just amped it way up." Teddy hmms. "I don't want to compete with you, though..."
"I like that attitude in a person," Teddy says with a little curl of amusement at one side of her smile. Both on their feet now, she gestures back toward the kitchen in a little formal wave. "I feel like I should give you the grand tour, or something. To your left! You'll see...uh, where you came in. And also the stairs, where there's a bedroom with a way bigger bed than I actually have, and a second bedroom because ...my brain put in space for my parents', I guess, but also, why the fuck not have company. If we keep going straight, there's the kitchen and the table." Teddy pauses to poke her head in and let Eddie do the same if he wants. It, like everything else, is about half way accurate and half wishful thinking. "And if...someone dreamed up a grocery for some reason...we can cook nearly anything. If you go out the back, there's a yard a lot like my house as a kid had, and a vegetable garden just like my grandmother's. But, back here on your left:"
The other side of the staircase, of course, going downstairs. Just an inset, plain wooden door that, when opened, swings at a slight angle to reveal concrete steps going downward and a light that Teddy flicks on. It's funny, how things work here because they should.
"The basement." Teddy heads in, pausing to glance behind themself "In real life, which this layout is kinda? this goes straight down and it's just a little root cellar. Probably had a generator and like, hot water heater, and theoretically us if there was ever a tornado, which I think there might've been all of once." As they go down, though, the stairs turn, and on the landing there are books of all kinds stacked. "But here..."
Teddy turns on another light at the last few steps, and it flickers on to show a much bigger room. Nearest them are beanbags, a worn but comfy looking couch, some speakers connected to a stereo, and a small TV with a very old Nintendo console underneath. Behind that, on top of a rug: three guitars of varying kinds and a bass on a long stand, a drumset, and mikes, with cords snaking to amps on either side. To one side there's a minifridge.
Teddy grins. "...Et voila. I dream big."