orendalogs | IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

"If you need work I could always use another package runner," tess spoke up, thumbing over her shoulder at the piles of crates and boxes behind her in the shop. "Never had a shortage of labor here, and I'm sure not going to do it."

For his part, Declan looked relieved, nodding to Tess and pulling the catalogue closer. If Aoba had said no again or tried to reason out what it was a bad idea, the Guardian wouldn't have had the ability to protest in turn. He caved easily in the face of most verbal debates, unwilling to argue and much more content to let people have their ways. He stated his case one time and one time only. If a person fought him after that, he either assumed himself wrong somehow or decided it was easier to let another person have their way. When Aoba relented, it was pleasing to be able to do something nice. It was probably the first time he'd won at anything he'd wanted to do.

"You don't have to pay me back, but I won't stop you from doing it. I understand what it can feel like when you assume you're in someone's debt. Hopefully by the time you feel you're ready to pay me back, you'll also understand that you don't need to. At any rate, you should place your order. That includes ingredients for whatever you want to eat tonight. I don't cook often, but I like to think I have some proficiency in it. I'll make whatever you want. Anything I can't make on my own, Ghost can help with."

This…guy.

“Ab-so-lute-ly not,” Aoba retorted, emphasizing each syllable but not snapping. Lifting his attention from the catalogue and staring ‘down’ his benefactor as if the Guardian did not, in fact, have a whole foot of height over him.

Jab. Aoba lifted a finger and poked Declan right in the middle of his breastplate. “If you’re paying for the stuff, the least I can do is cook it for you! And I’m not going to change my mind just because you make a puppy face and say ‘please’ this time!”

Now all Aoba had to do was find ingredients for something he was fairly confident he could cook without ruining. Maybe nikujaga. Cooking his own favorite food (barring the fact that it wasn’t Granny cooking it) might be counted as cheating a little bit, if it was supposed to be for someone else, but it was hard to mess up.

There was a brief moment of invisible panic as Declan drew back, certain he was about to get the refusal he'd been trying to avoid. When all of Aoba's vitriol was spent on refusing to let the Guardian cook, a quiet, relieved sigh passed full lips. He was startled again by the finger prodding his chest, but only because 1: he was wearing armor and 2: who did that to a man his size if not to start a fight? Fortunately Declan wasn't prone to reflexive aggression anywhere other than the field.

"If that's what you want, I don't mind. I've never been cooked for, before."

"That you remember," Tess grunted, rolling her eyes in amusement at the display the two were putting on. "You Guardians are all depressingly tragic like that. Ugh. Hurry up, you two. You're making it hard to drum up business!"

Aoba was not exactly known for sound decision-making skills…but on the other hand, his own intuition for people didn’t fail him too often. Although then again, when it did….

Well, nevertheless, here he was, giving Declan a taste of what having Aoba for a friend could mean, bickering with (at?) him with all the familiarity he would have with someone he’d known at least a while and not just a guy whose first impression had been punching out somebody in a grungy bar bathroom.

It mollified Aoba enough for now and he turned back to Tess and her catalogue with a new intensity of purpose. He picked through things as efficiently as he could manage, picking clothes that were as familiar and frugal as he could find. For meal ingredients he went also familiar but less frugal, feeling fair and justified given that the meal would go to feed Declan as well.

By the end of his picking and choosing, Aoba still felt self-conscious for being ‘treated’ like this, but he’d blown off his head of steam and, really, it wasn’t like he’d ever been anything like actually mad.

“Alright…I think that should do it. That alright, Declan?”

"If you are content, yes," Declan replied, turning back to face Aoba before nodding to Tess. The woman sighed, grumbling as she counted out coins from the purse and returned a fair amount to the Guardian. Evidently she was more professional than she pretended. either way, Aoba didn't spend much and Declan recovered the remains of his silver.

"I'll send the delivery around as soon as I can. Probably tomorrow at the earliest. But the food stuff," she murmured, looking down at the tablet and tapping a few things, "Give it about half an hour."

"Plenty of time, thank you Miss Everis."

"It's Tess, Declan. Tess. Ugh. Go on, you lot!" Tess barked, waving them off. Declan inclined his head politely before backing away and heading off towards the back gardens again. They were soon rejoined by Ghost, who said nothing but did a quick scan of Aoba and spun about.

"Miss Levante has everything now. She said she'll send it all right over. I forgot to scan for his measurements, but she'll have it all now. Hello again Aoba, Ren. Did everything go well?" Ghost asked cheerily as they all arrived at a lift near the gardens.

"I live on the 97th floor," Declan explained, stepping into the elevator and pressing a button. "I'm on the city side, though. If you want to see the mountain side it's easier from the courtyards, in case you want some fresh air," he offered. When they arrived on his floor is was a long steel and concrete hall, feet echoing on the floor as they walked.

"I have to warn you...I don't really have much in the way of decoration or anything. I don't...actually stay here very much."

The jingling return of what seemed to be a still-significant amount of silver made Aoba feel much better about things, his expression lightening drastically when he saw the pouch get handed back. It made his own thanks towards the merchant that much more genuine, rather than strained, before he fell back into Declan’s wake.

While Ren seemed to see fit to inform Ghost exactly how the exchange with Tess had gone, naturally assuming that the little construct was similar in nature and function to an Allmate like himself, Aoba’s attention stayed on Declan. His face fell a little at the cautioning, but not from any disappointment.

It was a look of concern, reminded that this world wasn’t all “good luck” just because it had been kind to him so far.

“You’re out on the front lines a lot, huh?”

"Yes," Declan answered, seeing no reason to lie or candy coat things. He looked on with amusement as Ghost and Ren spoke, the two worlds apart insofar as technology went, but no less different in having souls of their own. Granted neither could know the full extent of the other.

"Mostly because I have no reason not to be. All Guardians are given plenty of leave time, but I never take mine." Because there was no one to talk to, nothing to do and nowhere to go when you were so bad at making connections.

“Guess that makes me extra extra lucky you happened to still be in town today,” Aoba observed, though it fell flat as a lighthearted remark even before it had left his mouth and he realized it, too. He sighed immediately afterwards. “Sorry, that came out sounding more flippant than I meant.”

It did assure Aoba of something, though: he needed to tell Declan where he’d really come from. Aoba didn’t know if not being completely honest even mattered when no one so far even seemed to care, but the more Declan did for him, the more Aoba felt unworthy of it. The least Aoba could do in return was tell Declan the whole truth.

He resolved to do so as soon as they got inside Declan’s quarters.

It wasn't that no one cared so much as no one minded, but the distinction was easy to miss. Most Guardians were accustomed to dealing with unusual circumstances; Aoba would soon find out just how strange the future really was.

"It's alright. You're allowed to be a little testy, under the circumstances," Declan smiled gently before gesturing to the wall next to an indentation where the door obviously was.

"Put your hand here and I'll key you in so you can come and go as you like."

Once the system was set up to allow Aoba, Declan opened the door and stepped in. It was a large space, though mostly because it was so empty, everything in bland grays and whites and plain steel. The Floorplan was very open, a large couch in the center of the main room facing a panel that was likely a television. To one side was a small personal kitchen and to the other were two open doors, one to a bathroom, the other to a bedroom. There wereally windows and a balcony all on the side facing the city, ships zooming by, the Traveler in the distance.

The Guardian stepped in and turned, standing by the door and holding a hand out like a host ushering in a guest.

"Please make yourself at home. Ren as well, feel free to go wherever you like," he said with a small nod before looking around with a small frown. Maybe he should have picked up some curtains and some shaders, tried to add some color like other Guardians. Declan hadn't made any efforts to personalize the rooms.

When Aoba realized that the hand-scanner was a higher-tech equivalent of being given an extra set of keys he was almost dumbstruck. That was awfully trusting, wasn't it? Not that Aoba was a person who would abuse that trust, but it still surprised him. Nevermind that he was being given shelter in what was essentially a military barracks, and that misbehaving would have been incredibly stupid....

He was struck again by the Spartan quarters as he stepped inside and looked around. A private space, okay, set up like an apartment more than just what he imagined crew quarters would have. But Declan sure hadn't been kidding, huh? It didn't look lived in at all.

"Please excuse our intrusion," Aoba intoned politely, kneeling briefly and bracing his satchel. Ren hopped right out with a repeat of the same courteous words, himself, and trotted right off to map out the space.

"Thanks, Declan," Aoba added for them both as he stood and closed his satchel back up. Nothing in there now but junk food and energy drinks, stolen as emergency rations from the Deckers.

Well, no time like the present, and no real way to segue into it, so: "We'd really be in a bind without all your help. When I said... that I'd crashed? I mean... I came in through a portal that decided to dump me in that bathroom. One-way. And the side of the portal I started at... was somewhere in the past."

Time travel? Yep. Time travel. Earth was Earth, so it was cities and timelines that Aoba kept jumping, far as he could tell. And now Declan would call him crazy or something, right?

"That sounds very complicated," Declan mused, looking directly at Aoba and blinking slowly. "Ghost?" he added, tilting his head to the orb, who bobbed in the air in response.

"He's telling the truth, or at least believes himself to be," Ghost replied, tilting his spines left and right in a gesture similar to a shrug. "I have no reason to believe he isn't telling the truth. Even the Traveler had incomplete knowledge of the forces at play in the universe. Wormholes are only just being studied in earnest. Portals, if you will. There's nothing that says it can't be true. Especially since the Vex were defeated and the Vault of Glass sealed."

"That's fine then," Declan replied as easily as could be, tilting his head back to regard Aoba once again. Just like that, Aoba's concerns were dismissed. The Guardians weren't the sort of people to be thrown by portals, time, space.

"You're obviously not Vex," Declan added thoughtfully, moving past Aoba into the apartment and looking through the kitchen cabinets. Only one glass...he'd have to buy an extra set of dishes. Shaking his head slightly and getting cold water from the tap, he returned, holding the glass out to the smaller man. "And I would imagine a spy for the Vex wouldn't be organic and would probably be held to higher standards. No offense meant, only that you're not exactly discreet," the Guardian smirked, shrugging slightly.

"If there's a way to get you home, I'm sure the Warlocks can figure it out. Or maybe the Techeuns, if the Queen will permit an audience. I'll ask, if you like. Unless you're running away from home, in which case, you're still welcome to stay here as long as you like."

Just like that, Aoba was left to stand and stare. That was it? That’s fine? What, did Ghost’s scans include being some kind of floating lie detector, too?

A lot of what was said were things that made little sense to him, even after what briefing the Speaker had given him, but he still managed to take the glass. It was half automatic, but then his brain recognized and happily went water!, so Aoba took a long pull of it with obvious relief.

Then came Declan’s very last statement, to which Aoba was still able to be surprised, this time to the extent that he spluttered into his water and got a fair bit of it on his face. Coughing reflexively, Aoba wiped himself with his sleeve before once again turning wide eyes on his benefactor. This time, though, the look was more like awe.

This guy was so nice, he was unreal! Decker? No way! Those people in the bar were idiots and plainly knew nothing about him. The merchant, though, what had she called him?

Aoba’s brain-to-mouth filter promptly failed him as he murmured, “You really are an angel.”

Again color rose to Declan's cheeks, the burly man turning away to gaze out the windows, obviously uncomfortable with compliments; the sign of someone who rarely received them.

"I'm just doing what's right," he insisted, jaw muscles flexing briefly before he inhaled and stepped away, moving to the balcony windows. A touch to the glass and the panels whispered open, letting the cool air of the high skies rush into the flat and banish some of the stuffiness of the gray space.

"Ghost...would you order some more dishes?" he said, staring out at the city while he waited for the heat to leave his cheeks and ears. "Hopefully Eva can get them here before you finish cooking," he added, looking over his shoulder at Aoba.

"Of course. But I should mention that--" Ding dong. "--The first order is here."

Silver eyes flicked to the door before booted feet thudded across the floor. The door hissed open and one of the less human-looking robots stood holding several parcels.

"Delivery! Titan Declan?"

"Yes."

"Sign here please! Thank you! Have a nice day!" the robot chirped politely before hurrying off to it's next task. There was a large camo deployment bag, a rolled and tied set of blankets and pillows and a case of groceries, all of which Declan carried in without obvious effort and set on the couch.

Patting the bag roughly, Declan nodded in approval.

"There should be a full kit of basic gear in here, some plain clothes like underwear, shirts and pants, boots, and there will be a suit for if you go offworld. Miss Levante is very good about load outs. We'll worry about any other gear if you decide to travel. For now, between this and what we ordered from Everis you should be set up. And your food is here. Would you like to take a shower first?" he asked, tilting his head and reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. It was the first time he didn't deliberately hide behind the white curtain, the gesture completely unconscious.

Of course, Aoba couldn’t help but feel a little bad for embarrassing Declan again but—not to mention realizing that was a sort of weird thing to say out loud coming from him and not that merchant-lady, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around it. Then again, perhaps he was just overthinking on a bad first impression. Not of Declan himself, no, but letting those words from the people in the bar nag at him so.

Maybe it was more strange that such a nice guy as Declan hung out in a place like that to get such a ‘nickname’ in the first place? Hmm….

Ren wandered back at the same time as the delivery, the small space not taking long for even his tiny legs to explore. He settled near Aoba’s feet as the man himself stood carefully out of the way, backing up into the kitchen space until everything had been carried in.

Aoba didn’t realize how good the idea of a shower was until Declan voiced it. It wasn’t like he’d been forced to live in his own filth or anything and he wasn’t unclean, but he looked down at himself and the Deckers’ colors and logos across his attire, and was promptly ready to be rid of it.

“I would like that a lot, thanks,” he agreed, finishing what remained of his water before putting the glass down. He approached the couch then, bending to the bag to acquaint himself with its contents. Plain or otherwise didn’t even matter to him; he just wanted the stuff he was wearing off and in the trash!

The gear inside was all white and gray, though the boots were black leather. The space suit beneath everything else was in various shades of gray like all other things in Declan's home and life. They were thick fabrics as soft as cotton but obviously more durable. Comfortable and utilitarian. Military.

"The bathroom is right there. There should be hygiene products and other necessary things in the bag as well, like towels and body scrubs. She's very good about that, Miss Levante is. You go ahead and shower. I'll take one after you while you cook. Don't worry. I'll put the food in the fridge."

That said, Declan moved to fulfill the promise, picking up the food container and thudding quietly to the kitchen. He shifted slightly, his bulky, armored body not suitable for the small space, and eventually headed to the bedroom, pulling off the largest pieces of his gear to instead prowl around the home in just the padded under armor. Much easier to work in. Of course putting away the groceries didn't take long, which left the Guardian eventually just sitting on the couch and staring blankly at the television, which he didn't bother to turn on, too lost in his thoughts.

Aoba was no musclebound soldier and the bag was hefty, but he hauled it up and took the whole thing with him to the bathroom after another round of grateful thanks. Ren followed him at first, automatically and unthinking, but when Aoba realized his furry little partner had followed him into the bathroom, he recalled something and smiled with a sudden thought.

A minute later, Ren padded back out into the living area, Aoba shutting the door behind him before getting to that shower. The Allmate remained quiet and seated on the floor while Declan puttered about -- until finally, opportunity. While Declan sat there on the couch, almost statuesque, Ren padded over and sat in front of the Guardian's feet.

"Declan," he said, wagging his tail a little to counter the general lack of emotional inflection in his voice. "May I sit up there as well?"

The Guardian started, looking around briefly in confusion - it was going to take time to get used to people being in his home - before glancing down and nodding dumbly. Reaching down, he lifted the little dog up and set him on the couch, silver eyes fixed on the fluffy fur and tiny paws, mystified. Even Ren's dark eyes were curious to the Titan, and while he was careful not to touch (Ren was a person, after all) he couldn't help but stare in awe of the Allmate.

"Are all Allmates little canines?" he asked, shifting slightly on the couch to respectfully face the dog. Ghost floated over, hovering nearby, curious as well.

He got that ‘dog-lover’ look in his eyes when he saw you, Aoba had told Ren, as he prepared to shower. Go make a friend, okay?

So, after being lifted, Ren padded a little circle on the couch cushion before settling down next to Declan’s thigh. Even if he wasn’t a real dog, doglike mannerisms were still part of his programming. His dark eyes fixed on Declan’s own with bright intelligence nevertheless.

“No, they are not. Allmates come in many forms and functions, though animal varieties like myself are popular. For example, two of Aoba’s friends have a bird Allmate and an ermine Allmate respectively. His employer, however, has a robot designed for cleaning and trash disposal.”

Pausing briefly, Ren considered what Aoba had said, then added, “You may pet me if you like. I do not mind it.”

"What if I break you?" Declan asked with a small frown, looking down at his overlarge hands before holding them both up for inspection. Nevermind that he was as gentle and meek as a lamb. People said what they would and made his impression of himself less than positive. He didn't even touch real animals, though he did sometimes spend hours sitting in the courtyard watching the birds when he got tired of being a barfly.

"I don't want to hurt you. I'm not sure if anyone here would know how to repair you. I mean, the Exo's might, but there's a chance no one would. That would be awful."

“…”

Aoba would have been flabbergasted to hear such an overblown concern, and Ren was momentarily perplexed, himself.

“…I am not so fragile that I would break from ordinary petting, nor do I have the impression that you would deliberately try to damage me. However if you are truly that concerned, it is alright. I am simply making a standing offer.”

But Ren also didn’t want Aoba to be disappointed, so he calculated what he believed to be a compromise. Standing up, Ren moved closer to Declan and draped his little forepaws over the giant’s nearer thigh—and then settling there in a show of comfort, in case trying to vault into the Guardian’s lap would prove too unsettling.

“Also, for the record, Aoba does all my maintenance and repairs. Should you ever find me in a damaged state, just return me to him and he will take care of things.”

That was a little more reassuring, knowing that Aoba was able to make necessary repairs. He still thought he ought to have Ghost do a really in-depth scan, but for the time being it was enough to hear Ren tell him. After all, he trusted Exos and other constructed humans at their word, why not a tiny dog?

They sat like that for some time, Declan silent, feeling no weight at all on the sturdy tree-truck he called a leg as he stared off into space again, thoughts tumbling. The shower continued, the white-noise of the water oddly comforting, and he relaxed visibly with time. After a while he finally stopped clenching and unclenching his fist, reached over to remove his glove and carefully settled his marble white palm on the back onf Ren's shoulders, smoothing the fur back as gently as anyone could manage, let along a man his size.

He didn't think he'd ever felt anything quite so soft, particularly among synthetics. By the time Aoba returned, Declan was slumped back into the couch, carefully stroking Ren and staring at the ceiling.

And pleased Aoba was when he saw it, his smile lighting his whole face. He’d changed into the new clothes and, though they were monotone and militarian, he felt much better to be out of the Decker ensemble. The only splash of color was the fading gradient of his damp, towel-blotted hair. Freed from its ponytail, the longer portions hung most of the way down his back now.

Thanks, Ren, he mouthed when his little partner looked his way, while he himself continued on to the little kitchen space. His footsteps were soft, wearing socks but not the new boots, as old habits dictated.

“Aah, I needed that!” he announced for Declan’s benefit as he returned, the goal being obvious gratitude rather than obvious presence. “I’m going to get started on the cooking now, alright, Declan?”

Declan sat bolt upright the moment he heard Aoba, lifting his hand quickly in effort not to squash Ren. When there didn't seem to be any concern or disapproval he relaxed again, using one finger to scratch behind the dog's ear with a slight nod.

"As I said, make yourself at home, both of you. You don't need to appraise me of anything or ask my approval for anything aside from knocking down walls or something. Mostly because I don't know about the structural integrity of the rooms and wouldn't want something unfortunate to happen," he remarked, shrugging broad shoulders.

"Oh...I was thinking, mm. If you didn't want to work at one of the places in the Tower or couldn't find anything in the city, there's pretty good money in salvage from other planets. It's a little more dangerous, but since Guardians are usually on heavy patrol in the areas, you could probably make good money without too much risk. That is, if you need money. I'm still find with covering everything. I don't have anywhere to spend anything anyways." And no one to leave the money to if he died, but he wasn't about to make that gloomy announcement.

Aoba was already pulling open the little array of drawers and cabinets available, identifying what was where. Pot, pan, utensils…huh. Wow, no wonder Declan had told Ghost to order more dishes. There was only one set.

He got started setting things up, pulling out ingredients and hoping he could do this well enough from memory, but still turned and gave Declan another dry look.

“As generous as that is of you, I re-fuse to have you pay for everything like I’m some kind of—of kept man or something,” he hastily mumbled at the end, turning away with briefly reddening cheeks as he mentally kicked himself for only being able to come up with that of all things as a comparison. He focused his gaze intently on the potatoes he was chopping up after that.

“I can do work! I did deliveries and repairs and refurbishing in a junk shop back home…so, even if the technology around here is a lot more advanced than I’m used to, I’ll do everything I can to find some way to be useful to anyone that’ll take me.”

"What is a kept man?" Declan asked, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, unwilling to move Ren from his lap. It seemed rude to do so when the little thing seemed so content with his spot.

"I didn't say you couldn't work, only that you don't have to. I make so much money I don't know what to do with it. Mostly I just buy more gear or weapons, try them out and eventually toss them because they're not as good as my old stuff, anyways. Spending it on useful things for someone that needs it is a lot less wasteful, I think," the Guardian reasoned, shrugging slightly and turning back to face the quiet TV and blank wall spaces again. For how little TV he watched he would have been better served turning the couch to face the windows. He preferred watching outside anyways...maybe he would, later. But what if Aoba preferred TV? White brows furrowed along with his private thoughts, the Titan puzzling over sudden interest in his own environment that hadn't mattered at all before.

"Just let me know what you'd like to do and I'll talk to someone. Commander Zavala might know someone. Or Cayde or Miss Ikora."

Edited 2015-12-17 04:47 (UTC)

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