01 | 🕐 | audio

[mirrortouch]

[ It's not something that really ever becomes routine, it doesn't matter how often he wakes up someplace strange and uncharted. The voice on the line sounds about as scattered as he feels. ]

My name is Will Graham, it's- [ He's pulling back his sleeve to look for a watch that's not there. ] I don't have the time. I don't- I don't have the time.

[ Hang on, don't get too lost. ]

It's not clear to me exactly where I am, but- [ a dry laugh ] you probably already knew that. This isn't even my phone. But you probably knew that too.

[ He's missing details. He's missing plenty. His voice trails off for a short while before he can get his bearings enough to speak again, and even then it's almost unconsciously. ] I don't know. I don't know.

[ It's as if the fact that he has no idea sparks him back into the present. His voice grows more composed, if somewhat cracked. ] So if you're hearing this, if anyone is hearing this - [ is anyone hearing this? ] - any singular indication will be key.

[ Another beat. ]

I feel as though I've strayed a long, long way from home.

[ The air goes dead, and then so does the line. ]

Comments

[Video]

[deadly_ned]

Hi Will. I'm. Ned.

This is Digby.

[He gives a slight indication of his head to the sleeping golden retriever behind him]

You are a long way from home. I'm not sure how best to break it to you except to come right out with it.

I'm sorry.

But it won't be for forever.

[mirrortouch]

Being - ephemeral in nature is one thing right.

[ Sorry, Ned, you can't pay him enough to return that video. Speaker phone it is.

But Digby does win you points. ]

They let you have a dog here, Ned?

[deadly_ned]

[The Piemaker does not mind. Shyness is something he's used to, and he attributes it to that]

Depending on your definition of it.


They didn't say one way or the other. But Digby always comes with me, wherever I go. He wouldn't have stayed put where I'd left him.

You're, uhm. Dead. By the way.

[mirrortouch]

Yeah. [ He scoffs, and it's prevalent in his voice that he's not entirely been made a believer of yet. ] Yeah, so I've heard. So I'm still hearing.

[ Jesus, it's a coup.

Ah, Digby and Winston have that much in common. The taking off part. ] Me not being home is - problematic, for mine. My dogs.

[deadly_ned]

Sorry. I think it's best to get the biggest news out of the way. Then you can nibble little bits of the rest after the indigestion's worn off.


You have dogs?

[mirrortouch]

I'm mostly curious as to why it is the entire ship seems devoted to convince me of the fact. How am I meant to interpret that evidence?

And, yes, I do. That's, ah - seven of them.

[deadly_ned]

I think it's meant to come as more of a relief. You've been through the worst thing life has to offer. So now all there is is to be better.

I'm...sorry. I'm not very good at comforting.

Seven dogs is a lot of kibble. And I honestly...truly would not worry about them. They're fine. They will be fine. A promise from one dog-owner to another.

[mirrortouch]

Trust me, I'm worried. Namely, the idea of when they run through the food in the house. [ But by then, surely someone would have noticed him missing. ]

I'm not searching for comfort. And a self-help book would be the last thing I needed; no, I'm looking for mere clarity.

[deadly_ned]

They won't. Time...freezes, when you're here. When you go back, you won't even notice the time you've missed. Because you won't have missed it. Because you're frozen here.

I know it's not very clear. But it's the truth.

...Do you eat pie?

[mirrortouch]

[ Time freezes, it's the truth, and Will actually does laugh a little, astounded that he's meant to believe this. ]

Why would you ask me that?

[deadly_ned]

Because I'm a Piemaker. I make pies for a living.

And I think news like this tends to go down easier with pie.

[mirrortouch]

I didn't know a home-cooked meal was the ticket for ease when it came to - [ no, this is still funny to him, he has a half a chuckle to himself ] a discussion regarding potential tears in the space-time continuum.

[deadly_ned]

You'd be surprised.

And it isn't a meal. It's just...pie.

And ice cream. If you prefer. A la mode.

It sort of...takes the sting out of all of it. Reminds you that some things are normal, even when everything else is up in the air and shifting.

[mirrortouch]

It isn't home-cooked either. [ If they want to get technical.

Like with all else here, Will hesitates. It's a nice invitation that's been laid out before him, it's just a matter of allowing himself to relax long enough for it to be successful.

But over all, what he could use right now is normalcy, no matter how strange the breed. ]

Without- ice cream, though.

[deadly_ned]

It is. I make them from scratch and...this is my home, for now. So. Home-cooked.

Special of the day is lemon meringue, with sides of strawberry cheesecake and rhubarb.

[mirrortouch]

I'd ask if you were any good, but I suppose there's an easy test of that.

[deadly_ned]

Taste test. Generally speaking.


Do you prefer your room, my room, or neutral territory in public?

[mirrortouch]

Neutrality does breed comfort. [ Public. At least if it's poisoned, they'll find the body.

That was mostly a joke.

Seeing as his room's an occupational hazard: ]

Did you have somewhere in mind?

[deadly_ned]

The mess hall, I try to keep my cooking out of. Don't want to upstage a cook in his own restaurant. So to speak.

And I really don't like the idea of blueberry cobbler over library books.

What about the deck? Heavily trafficked yet atmospheric.

[mirrortouch]

- I haven't been.

[ The deck sounds more than apt. Maybe even lending a better perspective on the situation of just where the hell this barge even is.

He doubts that pretty innately. ]

I suppose I'll look for the guy with the pie.

[deadly_ned]

Look for the guy with the pie.


[And the Piemaker will answer that call, sitting up on deck with piebox and dog Digby, on a lawn chair under the stars. It's peaceful out here: he's learned to like the deck. Less claustrophobic than down below.]

[mirrortouch]

[ Will's own entrance onto the deck is much slower, a sort of traipse out of the stairwell - his neck immediately cranes, and he knows immediately that this will make him a tourist in this territory, "the new guy". He really can't care. It's literally goddamn space.

Eventually, well, he can't stop looking, but he does manage to look for the guy with the pie. (And the dog, apparently.) His hand rubs at his chest as though trying to assuage some kind of greater heartburn set off by mere culture shock. ]

I've lost my mind before. [ Yes, that's his conversation starter. It's almost more to himself than it is to Ned. ] It did not feel - a thing like this.

[ He feels lucid, he feels stable. And so he feels this actually happening and he knows, just as immediately, that he must start to conceive of it happening. ]

I'm still waiting for the ragtag film crew. [ Ready to put him on one of those idiotic hidden camera shows. ]

[deadly_ned]

[It's deceptively simple to pick Will out from all the rest: the Barge is small, and the Piemaker's been around long enough to recognize most of the new crew at sight. But he lets Will meander his way over to him first, letting him take the time to explore his surroundings. He remembers what it was like for him the first time, stepping out under the stars. He'd fought vertigo and acid reflux the entire way.

Digby sits calmly on a deck chair of his own, woefully ignoring the no-dogs-on-furniture rule the Piemaker only haphazardly enforces.]

You haven't lost your mind. There isn't a film crew.

There's only me, and Digby, and pie. I promise.

It's. Nice to meet you.

[mirrortouch]

[ There certainly isn't a film crew. The stars surge by overhead and he feels almost like he might be ill at the new sensation, not a particular kind of seasick per se but instead the same, overwhelming feeling that Ned probably thinks of. At first, he was willing for the whole charade - now and still, he's waiting for the dream to abruptly end itself.

"It's nice to meet you," Ned tells him, and Will can feel a bit of skepticism start to leech in - the look he turns Ned's way fits the thought process. Is it really, though?

Will's gaze scatters, landing on Digby instead of the sky. ] No - [ He agrees slowly at first, and then: ] No, I am most certainly awake right now.

[ It's unfortunate. A short pause, and his hands go into his jacket pockets; overprotective of himself, probably. ] Hey, Digby.

[deadly_ned]

[The Piemaker liked to bring Digby up when he met new people. Scared or sick inmates who wouldn't talk to strangers sometimes talked to dogs. He'd lent out the golden retriever a number of times as a comfort animal, sharing him with the displaced and lonely of the Barge. Most of the time he didn't worry over the dog: occasionally, he did.

This didn't seem like one of the times he should worry.

At his name, Digby's called over to Will's side, trotting over and sniffing him with the polite air of an old - really, really old - dog.

The Piemaker remains seated, biting his lip and letting his dog make the acquaintances first. Digby had much better people skills than him; he'd be embarrassed about it if he didn't find it so convenient.]