Adam McAuliffe (
silent_key) wrote2015-09-14 03:47 pm
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Adam has been in Siren Cove for four days now and in those four days he's heard a lot of stories circulating around town about the current state of the Matriarch and the situation the sirens now find themselves in. For Adam, it works in his favour. His family has never belonged to any enclave, has never answered to any Matriarch and the problems going on now give him the opportunity to slip into town unnoticed.
It won't last, he's sure of that, but that doesn't mean he's not enjoying the chance to move into his new condo without worrying about how he's going to present himself.
Rather, he'd be enjoying himself if it didn't seem like the movers were going to drop ever second box. A year ago and Adam would have done it himself. A year ago he would have talked some friends into helping him, bugged his little brother until he agreed to drive the van, and they would have unloaded together. He would have bought beer and pizza -- or convinced someone to give him beer and pizza anyway -- and it would have been an experience, even if it hadn't been fun.
But now his brother is dead. Most of his friends don't call anymore. And Adam's scars prevent him from doing much of anything when it comes to moving boxes.
"Jesus Christ, I'm going to have a heart attack before this is over," he says loud enough for the movers to hear as they manhandle another box off the truck, nearly dropping it in the process. "Please don't kill all my things before they even make it inside."
[Adam's in front of his new condo, a lovely building near the beach. Dry run tags can be considered canon if you'd like, or if you want to start fresh, I'm okay with that, too. :D]
It won't last, he's sure of that, but that doesn't mean he's not enjoying the chance to move into his new condo without worrying about how he's going to present himself.
Rather, he'd be enjoying himself if it didn't seem like the movers were going to drop ever second box. A year ago and Adam would have done it himself. A year ago he would have talked some friends into helping him, bugged his little brother until he agreed to drive the van, and they would have unloaded together. He would have bought beer and pizza -- or convinced someone to give him beer and pizza anyway -- and it would have been an experience, even if it hadn't been fun.
But now his brother is dead. Most of his friends don't call anymore. And Adam's scars prevent him from doing much of anything when it comes to moving boxes.
"Jesus Christ, I'm going to have a heart attack before this is over," he says loud enough for the movers to hear as they manhandle another box off the truck, nearly dropping it in the process. "Please don't kill all my things before they even make it inside."
[Adam's in front of his new condo, a lovely building near the beach. Dry run tags can be considered canon if you'd like, or if you want to start fresh, I'm okay with that, too. :D]
no subject
"Thank you," he says as he takes the mug from Coop and sets it down on the table, giving a little grin when Coop moans like that. Somehow the way Coop behaves, the way he seems completely at ease with anything, it gives Adam another little surge of confidence, the kind of thinks he needs to talk about what had happened.
"I grew up about three hours from here," he admits. "I was sort of forced into retirement after a... after a car accident. It turns out not many people are willing to book a model when he has disfiguring scars from burns. My first physical therapist suggested I find somewhere familiar and yet not at all related to New York to spend some time and recover, so here I am." He tries for a smile and actually manages it, but it's nervous as he finds himself wondering how Coop might react.
no subject
Coop sets his cup down on the nearest surface, which really just turns out to be another box, and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees to give Adam his full attention.
"The people who weren't willing to book you are assholes, just to get that out of the way. I'm sorry about your accident, man, that's-- That's beyond rough." So many of his friends have been through hell, over and over again to the point that Coop barely understands how they're still standing but in those cases, the scars are mostly of the internal variety. Obviously, that doesn't make the trauma any less traumatizing but to have a physical burden like Adam's is, Coop imagines, doubly difficult. Especially considering his career had pretty much been built on such a small-minded view of what makes a person attractive.
Biting down on his lip, he straightens back up in his chair, torn between not wanting to make Adam feel uncomfortable and wanting to ask all the questions that keep popping up in his mind. He settles for something in between. "Is Siren Cove still familiar? I mean, do you know a lot of people here? Because I'm volunteering as tour guide before anyone else can, just for the record. I know all the most relaxing places to be, my backyard included. I've got a hammock back there, an infinity pool, the beach. I'm good for more than popping coffee pods into a machine, I promise."
no subject
"It's familiar, but I don't really know anyone," he says, shaking his head. "We'd come into town maybe once a year when I was a kid, but we never really stayed long enough for me to meet anyone or make friends. Everyone here is more or less a stranger to me, though I've met a few people who've been kind enough." He smiles then, oddly relieved by the response Coop has given him. He hasn't reacted negatively, he hasn't acted as if he might be disgusted by Adam's body. That doesn't necessarily mean he's going to go out of his way to show his scars off any time soon, but he feels relieved all the same. He actually feels rather nice. "Although I have to say, you're probably my favourite new person I've met with that offer you just laid out."
His condo is nice enough, he has the money to keep a beautiful place, but it's nothing like what Coop has just described.