With a soft sigh and an understanding smile, Lydia shakes her head. "Not all of us died, sweetie. Just some of us. Believe it or not, it's a parallel Earth. The portals used to be intentional to help superheroes travel from Earth to Earth to help in crises, apparently, but somewhere along the way, they went haywire and it started pulling in all the riff-raff living in this interdimensional waystation of an apartment complex," she explains, a little surprised that they didn't already explain this to him. Maybe they did and he was still too much in shock to absorb it. If he died, then that sounds about right, she supposes.
"Oh, I only do pillow fights in my lingerie with other girls, specifically in slow motion," she replies with feigned seriousness before breaking and laughing a little. "I'm more of a pillow talker than pillow fighter, personally."
She nods a little, grin softening back into something more empathetic when he speaks again to answer her question. "I'm a banshee. I can predict death...it's probably the least pleasant superpower of all time," she sighs. "And I don't think most people are really ready to die. My best friend died trying to save my life because even though I told her to, she wouldn't run, either. You brave, stupid idiots," she says with a sad sort of fondness, eyes shifting toward the door to Allison's old room. "She was here for a while, but got sent back again while the portals were still all fritzed out."
Lydia nods toward the room. "That was her room and that's why it's empty." Another sad smile crosses her expression and then Lydia shuts down the emotion again. It's a conditioned response, especially in the presence of men.
His response to her question about home has her smiling again, this time more knowingly. "Oh, I know that feeling. Beacon Hills, California. 2020," she replies. "I also thought it was the most boring place on Earth until I was bitten by a fucking werewolf and my entire world turned upside down," she answers, leaning back against the couch and regarding him thoughtfully.
Clearing her throat, Lydia lifts her chin with interest. "So what got ya, big guy? Must be they cleaned you up pretty good before they sent you here, or else you lucked out into a less traumatic death than most people here I've met..."
"Sure, evil spellcasters and demons are real, why not superheroes?" He says more to himself than to Lydia. It makes sense, in the way that nothing has made sense since Chrissy. He shakes his head, still trying to process her explanation. It was similar to what he'd been told, but still needed time for him to process.
He whistles when she teases him about pillow fights in lingerie. Clearly, she knew how the male mind worked. He grins back at her with a wink. "Well, if you ever need to talk, you've got me next door. Just come on over.'
He shudders sympathetically, his whole body shaking in place. "Yeah, that's not exactly a great party trick," he says, listening to her as she goes on. "You can't run forever," he says, his fingers stilling for a moment. "I don't know about your best friend, but she must have thought you were worth it."
He watches her as emotion plays across her face and then shuts down. "I guess we're part of the second chance club," he says. "I'm sorry she's gone."
"A werewolf?" he says, laughing a little despite himself. He puts a hand over his mouth. "Sorry. I'm just trying to picture it. Did he play basketball?"
He huffs, shaking his head and looking down at his spotless shirt. "Yeah, I've definitely been patched up. Otherwise there wouldn't be much of me left. Got taken out by demobats. Or demon bats, we call them. I was trying to buy my friends more time." He sighs. "I just wish I knew it had worked."
"You're barely scratching the surface, honey, this place is about to hear you talking about your world and say, 'hold my beer,' if you're not careful," she points out with a grin.
Taking a deep breath and sighing it out softly, Lydia nods. "Must be. I would've done the same for her, if the tables were turned, so I can't be that mad at her," she replies.
In spite of the trauma she still sometimes has nightmares about that came in the wake of Peter Hale biting her, she's still able to understand how crazy that sounds to other people who aren't familiar with the concept of those sorts of things being real. Hell, she was one of those people until a few years ago. "He did, actually, when he'd been in high school. He's twice my age, though, so... Basketball is the loser sport where I went to school. All the cool kids played lacrosse. Come to think of it, most of the werewolves at my high school played lacrosse, but all the ones I know who graduated before me played basketball, now that you mention it..." She pauses and looks back at him, lifting an eyebrow. "That's a weirdly specific question, by the way..."
She hisses a breath in between her teeth. "That sounds horrific," she sympathizes. "You might get to find out. People are in and out of here all the time. This portal thing seems to find us in clusters. I actually think I can count on one hand the number of people here I've met who never ran into anyone from their home world at least briefly while they were here..." she adds thoughtfully.
Then, Lydia gets to her feet. "Up, up, up," she insists suddenly. "If you were fighting to keep buy your friends more time, then that means you'd already been in the fray and you came here straight from dying, I assume, so you're probably in dire need of fuel, if not also a shower to wash away the grime and trauma," she says, nodding for him to follow her as she moves toward the kitchen. "Are you a tea guy, a coffee guy, or a soda guy?"
"That crazy, huh?" He shakes his head and tries to wrap his mind around it. It's a lot to take in, but he's doing the best he can.
His expression softens a little at her admission that she can't be too mad at her best friend for dying for her. He hopes Dustin will feel the same way, eventually. He can still see his face when he shuts his eyes. The the pain on it that he caused. "It's good to know that forgiveness is an option for those left behind."
Eddie snorts despite himself. "Lacrosse? The game with the little basket things on the sticks?" He laughs again, picturing the jocks chasing each other around with those instead of trying to dunk balls in laundry baskets. It's clear that Lydia isn't joking though and he doesn't want her to think he's laughing at her. "It's a movie," he says, trying to explain himself. "Teen Wolf. Kid becomes a werewolf and wins at basketball. Or something. I didn't actually watch it."
He really doesn't want to think about those final moments, but they keep flashing before his eyes. It makes the smile plastered on his lips hard to maintain, but he tries to shrug it off anyway. "Yeah, it was definitely nightmare fuel," he says, raising an eyebrow as he catches her next words. "Wait, you mean there might be other people from my world here?"
He finds himself obeying before he even realizes he's getting up. He regards her curiously as she tells him exactly what he needs. She must be used to people showing up and leaving. "You have no idea," he says, grinning at her. "I've been hiding out for the last week. My last meal was a can of spaghettios." A poor choice considering he'd be dead less than 48 hours later. "I'll settle for a soda, but I'd love a beer."
"Being angry with you, missing you, and forgiving you because you did the right thing are not mutually exclusive things," Lydia replies gently. "So yeah, they'll forgive you. Eventually, when they're ready. In the meantime, they'll...love you and hate you in equal measure. It'll be your fault and you're an idiot while it's their fault and they should've done more. Grief is a tricky, nasty mistress. But yeah. There's forgiveness."
Her eyebrows lift. "Lacrosse is actually super intense. Well, men's lacrosse is. Women's lacrosse is stupid because the rules are different, but men's is actually really fun to watch. I'll show you sometime; I like to watch college lacrosse when it's in season."
His explanation makes Lydia give a thoughtful facial shrug in return. "That happened to my friend Scott. I mean, lacrosse instead of basketball. He was like...this nerdy, asthmatic bench warmer and then he got bitten by a werewolf and suddenly he was blowing the rest of the team out of the water. He knocked my then-boyfriend out of the captain spot. It's weird there's a movie about something kinda like that...huh."
It's easy to see the vacancy in the smile when it falls away from his eyes even though it still graces his lips. She knows it all too well; she's perfected it. She's better at hiding it than Eddie is. "Yeah, maybe. Can't say I've heard anybody talking about demon bats, but people also come from different points in time, so you might be from after dying and one of your friends might already be here but be from, like, six years after that or a few days before. But yeah, it's definitely possible," she replies, hoping that'll give him a little bit of peace of mind, if nothing else can.
Lydia moves to the refrigerator to grab him a snack and stops with her hand on the door handle, looking over her shoulder at him. "Spaghettios?" she asks. "Oh, honey..." she adds pityingly. "Okay, I will get you a snack but I'm DoorDashing you something of actual sustenance because I can't cook to save my life and you're running on fumes, sweetie. What were you hiding out for, anyway? Or is that too nosy?" she asks, pulling the fridge open, finally. "I'm not a really a beer drinker, so I don't have any of that right now, but," she says before turning back around to face him, a can of Coke in one hand and a half-empty bottle of Malibu rum in the other. "Compromise?" she offers, lifting her eyebrows with question.
Lydia's words strike a chord deep inside of him and he closes his eyes for a long moment as they wash over him. They'll love you and hate you in equal measure. As much as he likes to tell himself that he doesn't care what other people think, the idea of Henderson hating him hurts. But not as much as losing him or any of the others would have. He runs a tongue over his teeth and opens his eyes again, meeting Lydia's. "I hope he gets there sooner than later."
A grin appears and he shakes his head. "As much as I want to spend as much time with you as possible, your majesty, I don't do sports." He pauses. "But, maybe I'll keep you company if you get me drunk or high enough."
He nods knowingly. "I knew it," he says, his eyes twinkling a little. "You were one of the golden girls. I mean, look at you. And captain of the LaCrosse team!" He perches his chin on one hand in a gossipy posture. "Oh, my." But then he realizes what she's already told him and puts two and two together. He relaxes out of his teasing posture. "And then you got bit," he finishes, amusement washing away.
He hums at her explanation about others from his world possibly being there. He tries not to think too hard about who he'd want to see again, since the realization that he'll probably never see anyone again is hitting him. He wishes he'd been able to say goodbye to his uncle.
Lydia's concern after being on the run from a town ready to lynch him for murder feels like warm embrace. He feels himself relax slightly and drops his guard the tiniest bit. He takes the coke and rum and opens the can. "Thanks."
He takes a large swig of coke before he pours the rum in. "I was unjustly accused of murder," he says as he carefully pours the rum in. He laughs a little, though it still doesn't reach his eyes. "Can you imagine? The only person I've ever killed is myself."
Lydia's bottom lip pouts out sympathetically. "Whoever he is, I'm sure he will," she assures him. "If he loves you as much as I love Allison, he will."
She lifts her eyebrows. "Ohhhh, I'm 'your majesty' and you're still shutting me down. That seems pretty disrespectful, peasant," she jokes, rolling her eyes.
"One game," she propositions, holding up one finger. "If you still hate it, I won't ask again," she says, making an X in the middle of her chest with the same finger. "Cross my heart."
One of the golden girls, he says, and while Lydia's smile stays in place, it slips from her eyes for a flicker of a moment. She nods. "And then I got bit. Oh, how the mighty have fallen," she sighs. "But that's a long story for another day and, since I assume you'll choose to be a lifer since the alternative is...bleak, that gives us lots of time for me to tell it another time."
Eddie takes the can and Lydia gives him a small smile that's more genuine this time. Then, she turns back to the fridge to pull out some dark chocolate hummus and a carton of strawberries with barely a dent in it yet.
I was unjustly accused of murder, he says and Lydia's lips pull back to reveal her teeth in a yikes... sort of expression as she sits down at the table and pushes the strawberries and hummus in his direction before pulling out her phone to look for something to have delivered.
"I know someone who was unjustly accused of murder back home. That sucks," she says, frowning. "And, hey...technically you killed yourself but also, you look pretty damn alive to me." She turns the phone toward him after pressing the button to show the full menu of categories to choose from. "Pick your poison and I'll pick the place. Anything but Chinese; I had that the other night." She holds her phone out to him so he can look at it and make his selection. "...you want to talk about that or should I let it go, by the way?" she asks gently, referring to the unjust accusation.
"Fine," Eddie says, raising his hands in surrender. "One game. As long as I don't have to be sober during it."
He raises his eyebrows when she calls him a lifer. "Is that what you are?" he asks, trailing after her. She'd mentioned that her friend had died, but she hadn't talked about her own death. He wondered why Allison hadn't been a lifer, if the alternative was just as bleak as his.
He pulls out a chair and joins her at the table, grabbing a strawberry and biting it to the stem. He hums in appreciation as it rolls around his mouth. He grabs another one, yanks off the top and puts it in his mouth. He looks at the phone curiously, chewing the berries. He reaches out and turns the phone sideways, looking for more.
"Pizza," he says, giving the phone another curious look before meeting her eyes again. "Pass," he says, giving her another short lived grin. "Maybe another day." He pushes the strawberries back towards her, his appetite suddenly gone. "On second thought, hold off on the pizza. I've got more important things to think about. They said something about clothes?"
"You don't have to be. You do have to watch and, if you're confused, ask questions, but you're absolutely allowed to be intoxicated. I don't care about that," she replies.
With a sigh, Lydia nods. "Yeah. I'm a lifer, but for a different reason. I just...in case she comes back. I need to be here in case she comes back while the portals are working properly again. It used to be really messed up and like sometimes, you'd wake up and your roommate and all their shit would just be gone, poof. Now, sometimes people show up unexpectedly, but nobody gets zapped back out again unless they physically go to the portal and walk through. I keep hoping someday, it'll pull her back in and I don't want her to be alone, if it does. You know...?"
She watches the way he studies the phone with interest as he eats the strawberries, skipping the hummus. "You haven't lived until you've dipped that in the chocolate, you know. Unless you don't like or are allergic to chocolate, in which case I'm not sure we can safely be friends because I'm an addict," she tells him, trying to add a little levity back into the conversation.
Eddie decides on pizza but before she can even start to look at the options to choose their restaurant, he changes his mind. Her eyes lift to meet his face again and her jaw slackens with surprise when she realizes that he's pushed the strawberries back toward her and she thinks maybe she's upset him by asking.
"I'm not asking you to talk about it, sorry, I should've been more clear. I was just trying to open the door in case you felt like you needed or wanted to get it out of your system. If you never want to talk about it, I'm fine with that. It's none of my business," she says apologetically. "But yeah, there are clothes in your room if you want to change."
He smirks, nodding thoughtfully. "Alright, then. I guess you've got a date, roomie."
His grin fades as she goes on, his expression sobering into something more sympathetic. He understands why she'd want to be there, especially if this is the only place her friend can actually be alive. "All, I know," he says, giving her a sad smile. "Is if I had a friend like you, I'd find my way back."
He doesn't know her, not really, but he knows what it's like to feel that kind of longing for someone to come back. To be afraid to move on, in case they show up out of the blue and you're not there. He finds himself hoping that Lydia will get her wish someday.
"Allergic to chocolate?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "Is that allowed?" As if to prove that he's not against it, he dips a smaller strawberry into the chocolate and pops it into his mouth.
"It's okay, queenie," he says, giving her a half smile. "It'll come spilling out of me someday, but for now I just want that shower and some clean clothes that don't smell of death and desperation." He pauses. "You don't have to hold my hand if you've got other things to do."
Lydia gives him a sad smile, and nods, her eyes down as she lifts her fingers to pick at her nails. "She will," she says, although she's not entirely sure whether she's trying to convince Eddie...or herself. She meets his eyes again. "Someday, she will."
She has to have faith in that or she's not sure she can live with the fact that she's lost her best friend; her sister twice and, in neither instance had she been able to tell her how much she loved her or even so much as say goodbye.
"Not in this apartment, it isn't," she says with a small smile. Her eyes are still missing it slightly, her thoughts still caught up in Allison for the moment. "See? Who said hummus is for hippies, anyway? Give it a dark chocolate spin and some strawberries to dip in it...honey, that's decadence," she adds with a smirk, coming back to the present.
Her eyebrows lift with slight incredulity. "Yeah, I was so busy with my post-nap reading..." she says with a playful hint of sarcasm. "I can leave you to it, though, if you just want to get a shower, some clean clothes, and some rest. If you change your mind about the pizza, say the word. I can order it and a Dasher will get t here in twenty minutes, give or take. Okay?"
"Got it," he says, giving her a nod. The idea of a shower, clothes and some sleep sounds like heaven, which he supposes this might be the closest thing to for him. He'll take what he can get.
Still, he sits there a moment longer, watching her. "How many roommates exactly, have you had?"
He gets the impression that this isn't new to her. Not by the way she seems to know exactly what he needs. Not by the lack of judgement and the sympathy coming off of her. He's not the first she's said these things to. Not by a long shot.
Lydia's smile falters a little and she looks down, shrugging. "Oh geez, I don't know, enough. I've been here for a couple of years, now, so a handful," she replies. It's always hard to have someone new come in because Lydia gets attached to them and then before the portal was fixed — which wasn't fast enough for Allison, unfortunately — they'd disappear again.
Her eyebrows lift a little with curiosity. "Why? Just curious or something?"
"You seem pretty used to this." There's a touch of sensitivity to the comment. He can imagine being here for years and seeing people come and go must get pretty hard. Especially, when one of those people is the best friend that died for you. Lydia's helpfulness feels a little like loneliness.
"Well, I hope you like loud music," he says, giving her a crooked grin and leaning forward. "We both know I don't have anywhere to go, so I'm hanging around for a while. I'm either the man of your dreams or your worst nightmare. There's usually no inbetween."
Shrugging, Lydia smiles a little. "Yeah, well...between my roommates and people on the network, I've given the schpiel a few times," she confirms. People come, people go. In life. In Eglaf. It just is what it is.
Her eyebrows lift. "I think that depends on the music and the mood I happen to be in at any given time," she points out with a soft huff of amusement. "You don't seem very nightmarish to me. Believe me, sweetie, I know nightmare men. You don't give me that vibe."
She's thinking, of course, of Peter Hale, who quite literally haunted her dreams to get her to use Derek's alpha bite against his will to bring Peter back to life. She's had to trust him unwillingly a time or two for the greater good, but Peter Hale is her worst nightmare to this day, if she has to pin the worst nightmare trope on a single person.
She gestures toward him and makes a vaguely thoughtful sound. "It's giving...lovable misfit. That's my crowd back home. Hell, I've become a lovable misfit, but that's a different story for a different day."
He huffs, not sure if he should be offended at so quickly being written off as not the nightmarish type. "Maybe I'm losing my touch," he says, raising his eyebrows and winking at her.
He tilts his head and grins at her. "Well, I think both of those things apply to me, though you might be the first to put them together. Most people back home just call me a freak." He looks her over and then gives her a small nod. "I can't wait to hear that one."
He grins and then points over his shoulder. "All right. I'm going to fuck off. I'll catch you later, your majesty."
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"Oh, I only do pillow fights in my lingerie with other girls, specifically in slow motion," she replies with feigned seriousness before breaking and laughing a little. "I'm more of a pillow talker than pillow fighter, personally."
She nods a little, grin softening back into something more empathetic when he speaks again to answer her question. "I'm a banshee. I can predict death...it's probably the least pleasant superpower of all time," she sighs. "And I don't think most people are really ready to die. My best friend died trying to save my life because even though I told her to, she wouldn't run, either. You brave, stupid idiots," she says with a sad sort of fondness, eyes shifting toward the door to Allison's old room. "She was here for a while, but got sent back again while the portals were still all fritzed out."
Lydia nods toward the room. "That was her room and that's why it's empty." Another sad smile crosses her expression and then Lydia shuts down the emotion again. It's a conditioned response, especially in the presence of men.
His response to her question about home has her smiling again, this time more knowingly. "Oh, I know that feeling. Beacon Hills, California. 2020," she replies. "I also thought it was the most boring place on Earth until I was bitten by a fucking werewolf and my entire world turned upside down," she answers, leaning back against the couch and regarding him thoughtfully.
Clearing her throat, Lydia lifts her chin with interest. "So what got ya, big guy? Must be they cleaned you up pretty good before they sent you here, or else you lucked out into a less traumatic death than most people here I've met..."
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He whistles when she teases him about pillow fights in lingerie. Clearly, she knew how the male mind worked. He grins back at her with a wink. "Well, if you ever need to talk, you've got me next door. Just come on over.'
He shudders sympathetically, his whole body shaking in place. "Yeah, that's not exactly a great party trick," he says, listening to her as she goes on. "You can't run forever," he says, his fingers stilling for a moment. "I don't know about your best friend, but she must have thought you were worth it."
He watches her as emotion plays across her face and then shuts down. "I guess we're part of the second chance club," he says. "I'm sorry she's gone."
"A werewolf?" he says, laughing a little despite himself. He puts a hand over his mouth. "Sorry. I'm just trying to picture it. Did he play basketball?"
He huffs, shaking his head and looking down at his spotless shirt. "Yeah, I've definitely been patched up. Otherwise there wouldn't be much of me left. Got taken out by demobats. Or demon bats, we call them. I was trying to buy my friends more time." He sighs. "I just wish I knew it had worked."
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Taking a deep breath and sighing it out softly, Lydia nods. "Must be. I would've done the same for her, if the tables were turned, so I can't be that mad at her," she replies.
In spite of the trauma she still sometimes has nightmares about that came in the wake of Peter Hale biting her, she's still able to understand how crazy that sounds to other people who aren't familiar with the concept of those sorts of things being real. Hell, she was one of those people until a few years ago. "He did, actually, when he'd been in high school. He's twice my age, though, so... Basketball is the loser sport where I went to school. All the cool kids played lacrosse. Come to think of it, most of the werewolves at my high school played lacrosse, but all the ones I know who graduated before me played basketball, now that you mention it..." She pauses and looks back at him, lifting an eyebrow. "That's a weirdly specific question, by the way..."
She hisses a breath in between her teeth. "That sounds horrific," she sympathizes. "You might get to find out. People are in and out of here all the time. This portal thing seems to find us in clusters. I actually think I can count on one hand the number of people here I've met who never ran into anyone from their home world at least briefly while they were here..." she adds thoughtfully.
Then, Lydia gets to her feet. "Up, up, up," she insists suddenly. "If you were fighting to keep buy your friends more time, then that means you'd already been in the fray and you came here straight from dying, I assume, so you're probably in dire need of fuel, if not also a shower to wash away the grime and trauma," she says, nodding for him to follow her as she moves toward the kitchen. "Are you a tea guy, a coffee guy, or a soda guy?"
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His expression softens a little at her admission that she can't be too mad at her best friend for dying for her. He hopes Dustin will feel the same way, eventually. He can still see his face when he shuts his eyes. The the pain on it that he caused. "It's good to know that forgiveness is an option for those left behind."
Eddie snorts despite himself. "Lacrosse? The game with the little basket things on the sticks?" He laughs again, picturing the jocks chasing each other around with those instead of trying to dunk balls in laundry baskets. It's clear that Lydia isn't joking though and he doesn't want her to think he's laughing at her. "It's a movie," he says, trying to explain himself. "Teen Wolf. Kid becomes a werewolf and wins at basketball. Or something. I didn't actually watch it."
He really doesn't want to think about those final moments, but they keep flashing before his eyes. It makes the smile plastered on his lips hard to maintain, but he tries to shrug it off anyway. "Yeah, it was definitely nightmare fuel," he says, raising an eyebrow as he catches her next words. "Wait, you mean there might be other people from my world here?"
He finds himself obeying before he even realizes he's getting up. He regards her curiously as she tells him exactly what he needs. She must be used to people showing up and leaving. "You have no idea," he says, grinning at her. "I've been hiding out for the last week. My last meal was a can of spaghettios." A poor choice considering he'd be dead less than 48 hours later. "I'll settle for a soda, but I'd love a beer."
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Her eyebrows lift. "Lacrosse is actually super intense. Well, men's lacrosse is. Women's lacrosse is stupid because the rules are different, but men's is actually really fun to watch. I'll show you sometime; I like to watch college lacrosse when it's in season."
His explanation makes Lydia give a thoughtful facial shrug in return. "That happened to my friend Scott. I mean, lacrosse instead of basketball. He was like...this nerdy, asthmatic bench warmer and then he got bitten by a werewolf and suddenly he was blowing the rest of the team out of the water. He knocked my then-boyfriend out of the captain spot. It's weird there's a movie about something kinda like that...huh."
It's easy to see the vacancy in the smile when it falls away from his eyes even though it still graces his lips. She knows it all too well; she's perfected it. She's better at hiding it than Eddie is. "Yeah, maybe. Can't say I've heard anybody talking about demon bats, but people also come from different points in time, so you might be from after dying and one of your friends might already be here but be from, like, six years after that or a few days before. But yeah, it's definitely possible," she replies, hoping that'll give him a little bit of peace of mind, if nothing else can.
Lydia moves to the refrigerator to grab him a snack and stops with her hand on the door handle, looking over her shoulder at him. "Spaghettios?" she asks. "Oh, honey..." she adds pityingly. "Okay, I will get you a snack but I'm DoorDashing you something of actual sustenance because I can't cook to save my life and you're running on fumes, sweetie. What were you hiding out for, anyway? Or is that too nosy?" she asks, pulling the fridge open, finally. "I'm not a really a beer drinker, so I don't have any of that right now, but," she says before turning back around to face him, a can of Coke in one hand and a half-empty bottle of Malibu rum in the other. "Compromise?" she offers, lifting her eyebrows with question.
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A grin appears and he shakes his head. "As much as I want to spend as much time with you as possible, your majesty, I don't do sports." He pauses. "But, maybe I'll keep you company if you get me drunk or high enough."
He nods knowingly. "I knew it," he says, his eyes twinkling a little. "You were one of the golden girls. I mean, look at you. And captain of the LaCrosse team!" He perches his chin on one hand in a gossipy posture. "Oh, my." But then he realizes what she's already told him and puts two and two together. He relaxes out of his teasing posture. "And then you got bit," he finishes, amusement washing away.
He hums at her explanation about others from his world possibly being there. He tries not to think too hard about who he'd want to see again, since the realization that he'll probably never see anyone again is hitting him. He wishes he'd been able to say goodbye to his uncle.
Lydia's concern after being on the run from a town ready to lynch him for murder feels like warm embrace. He feels himself relax slightly and drops his guard the tiniest bit. He takes the coke and rum and opens the can. "Thanks."
He takes a large swig of coke before he pours the rum in. "I was unjustly accused of murder," he says as he carefully pours the rum in. He laughs a little, though it still doesn't reach his eyes. "Can you imagine? The only person I've ever killed is myself."
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She lifts her eyebrows. "Ohhhh, I'm 'your majesty' and you're still shutting me down. That seems pretty disrespectful, peasant," she jokes, rolling her eyes.
"One game," she propositions, holding up one finger. "If you still hate it, I won't ask again," she says, making an X in the middle of her chest with the same finger. "Cross my heart."
One of the golden girls, he says, and while Lydia's smile stays in place, it slips from her eyes for a flicker of a moment. She nods. "And then I got bit. Oh, how the mighty have fallen," she sighs. "But that's a long story for another day and, since I assume you'll choose to be a lifer since the alternative is...bleak, that gives us lots of time for me to tell it another time."
Eddie takes the can and Lydia gives him a small smile that's more genuine this time. Then, she turns back to the fridge to pull out some dark chocolate hummus and a carton of strawberries with barely a dent in it yet.
I was unjustly accused of murder, he says and Lydia's lips pull back to reveal her teeth in a yikes... sort of expression as she sits down at the table and pushes the strawberries and hummus in his direction before pulling out her phone to look for something to have delivered.
"I know someone who was unjustly accused of murder back home. That sucks," she says, frowning. "And, hey...technically you killed yourself but also, you look pretty damn alive to me." She turns the phone toward him after pressing the button to show the full menu of categories to choose from. "Pick your poison and I'll pick the place. Anything but Chinese; I had that the other night." She holds her phone out to him so he can look at it and make his selection. "...you want to talk about that or should I let it go, by the way?" she asks gently, referring to the unjust accusation.
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He raises his eyebrows when she calls him a lifer. "Is that what you are?" he asks, trailing after her. She'd mentioned that her friend had died, but she hadn't talked about her own death. He wondered why Allison hadn't been a lifer, if the alternative was just as bleak as his.
He pulls out a chair and joins her at the table, grabbing a strawberry and biting it to the stem. He hums in appreciation as it rolls around his mouth. He grabs another one, yanks off the top and puts it in his mouth. He looks at the phone curiously, chewing the berries. He reaches out and turns the phone sideways, looking for more.
"Pizza," he says, giving the phone another curious look before meeting her eyes again. "Pass," he says, giving her another short lived grin. "Maybe another day." He pushes the strawberries back towards her, his appetite suddenly gone. "On second thought, hold off on the pizza. I've got more important things to think about. They said something about clothes?"
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With a sigh, Lydia nods. "Yeah. I'm a lifer, but for a different reason. I just...in case she comes back. I need to be here in case she comes back while the portals are working properly again. It used to be really messed up and like sometimes, you'd wake up and your roommate and all their shit would just be gone, poof. Now, sometimes people show up unexpectedly, but nobody gets zapped back out again unless they physically go to the portal and walk through. I keep hoping someday, it'll pull her back in and I don't want her to be alone, if it does. You know...?"
She watches the way he studies the phone with interest as he eats the strawberries, skipping the hummus. "You haven't lived until you've dipped that in the chocolate, you know. Unless you don't like or are allergic to chocolate, in which case I'm not sure we can safely be friends because I'm an addict," she tells him, trying to add a little levity back into the conversation.
Eddie decides on pizza but before she can even start to look at the options to choose their restaurant, he changes his mind. Her eyes lift to meet his face again and her jaw slackens with surprise when she realizes that he's pushed the strawberries back toward her and she thinks maybe she's upset him by asking.
"I'm not asking you to talk about it, sorry, I should've been more clear. I was just trying to open the door in case you felt like you needed or wanted to get it out of your system. If you never want to talk about it, I'm fine with that. It's none of my business," she says apologetically. "But yeah, there are clothes in your room if you want to change."
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His grin fades as she goes on, his expression sobering into something more sympathetic. He understands why she'd want to be there, especially if this is the only place her friend can actually be alive. "All, I know," he says, giving her a sad smile. "Is if I had a friend like you, I'd find my way back."
He doesn't know her, not really, but he knows what it's like to feel that kind of longing for someone to come back. To be afraid to move on, in case they show up out of the blue and you're not there. He finds himself hoping that Lydia will get her wish someday.
"Allergic to chocolate?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "Is that allowed?" As if to prove that he's not against it, he dips a smaller strawberry into the chocolate and pops it into his mouth.
"It's okay, queenie," he says, giving her a half smile. "It'll come spilling out of me someday, but for now I just want that shower and some clean clothes that don't smell of death and desperation." He pauses. "You don't have to hold my hand if you've got other things to do."
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She has to have faith in that or she's not sure she can live with the fact that she's lost her best friend; her sister twice and, in neither instance had she been able to tell her how much she loved her or even so much as say goodbye.
"Not in this apartment, it isn't," she says with a small smile. Her eyes are still missing it slightly, her thoughts still caught up in Allison for the moment. "See? Who said hummus is for hippies, anyway? Give it a dark chocolate spin and some strawberries to dip in it...honey, that's decadence," she adds with a smirk, coming back to the present.
Her eyebrows lift with slight incredulity. "Yeah, I was so busy with my post-nap reading..." she says with a playful hint of sarcasm. "I can leave you to it, though, if you just want to get a shower, some clean clothes, and some rest. If you change your mind about the pizza, say the word. I can order it and a Dasher will get t here in twenty minutes, give or take. Okay?"
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Still, he sits there a moment longer, watching her. "How many roommates exactly, have you had?"
He gets the impression that this isn't new to her. Not by the way she seems to know exactly what he needs. Not by the lack of judgement and the sympathy coming off of her. He's not the first she's said these things to. Not by a long shot.
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Her eyebrows lift a little with curiosity. "Why? Just curious or something?"
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"Well, I hope you like loud music," he says, giving her a crooked grin and leaning forward. "We both know I don't have anywhere to go, so I'm hanging around for a while. I'm either the man of your dreams or your worst nightmare. There's usually no inbetween."
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Her eyebrows lift. "I think that depends on the music and the mood I happen to be in at any given time," she points out with a soft huff of amusement. "You don't seem very nightmarish to me. Believe me, sweetie, I know nightmare men. You don't give me that vibe."
She's thinking, of course, of Peter Hale, who quite literally haunted her dreams to get her to use Derek's alpha bite against his will to bring Peter back to life. She's had to trust him unwillingly a time or two for the greater good, but Peter Hale is her worst nightmare to this day, if she has to pin the worst nightmare trope on a single person.
She gestures toward him and makes a vaguely thoughtful sound. "It's giving...lovable misfit. That's my crowd back home. Hell, I've become a lovable misfit, but that's a different story for a different day."
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He tilts his head and grins at her. "Well, I think both of those things apply to me, though you might be the first to put them together. Most people back home just call me a freak." He looks her over and then gives her a small nod. "I can't wait to hear that one."
He grins and then points over his shoulder. "All right. I'm going to fuck off. I'll catch you later, your majesty."