nebulochaotic | apartment log

evenings, kitchen or bedroom

Matthew's been somewhat shafted being ported here, stuck taking the bar again and having to recertify himself as a practicing lawyer, but, he imagines it's...better. For him as a whole.
Taking a break from the mask would allow him to recollect his priorities.

So he's saddled up at either the kitchen table or at his desk, with an open door. Laptop open, several library bundles off to the side, and a screenreader in his foreground. Studying.

He'll have been there for hours, perhaps for a cup of coffee or three, before standing to stretch and take a break.

While the apartment was easy to navigate with the ambient noise, it was his distrust of anything that might be present in his wake that he truly can't see, like a corner or an accent table. One was quickly made short work of the first day here, something his hip is still sore from. The poor furniture feature was knocked clean over, along with anything that was in it. The curse of being displaced.

Now though, he's off to start another pot of coffee, needing a break now that his fingertips were all tingly from all the reading.

mornings, very early, kitchen

He couldn't sleep.

He couldn't sleep because it was almost, unnaturally quiet to him. Sure he'd annihilated some coffee earlier in the day, but that was far from his reason for his insomnia. Normally he had Hell's Kitchen to buzz and wail and sigh and sing him to sleep. He was used to it, used to the sirens and the occasional person walking down the alleyway and the buzzing of the neon and the gentle electric keen of the billboard next door. How Mrs. Martinez would fall asleep to her telenovelas three floors down, how the neighbor's cat would bound all across her apartment and meow at 3am like clockwork. Gone, all of that gone now.

Now he was lucky to get one siren late at night, or the sigh and shuffle of someone else in the apartment. It was maddening going from ambient to silence so quickly.

So he makes another pot of coffee. Maybe he was just becoming a night person.

As per her usual routine, Casey is up well before the sun. Normally, she goes straight out on patrol first and then to the gym, then has coffee and hits the shower, but smelling coffee at this hour stops her midway through the living room. Of course she'd heard someone shuffling about, but she just figured it was one of the boys heading to their shared bathroom before going back to bed. Evidently, that's not the case this time.

So, she breaks her routine to investigate, moving toward the kitchen and pausing at the doorway. "Matt?" she asks gently; quietly so as to hopefully not startle him too much. "...what are you doing up?" And why are you making coffee stops on the tip of her tongue and she only barely manages to bite it back. Probably because he'll be getting up for work in a few hours for work anyway, so if he's up now because he can't sleep, why bother wasting time trying to fight a losing battle, right?

He can hear her shuffling about; the hissing of the shower, and then the curtain or door. Pouring himself a cup with some relative ease, he perks up as she enters, as though hearing a stray sound. Matthew's saddled against the countertop, sweats and a hoodie to keep the cold out, mimic the wrap of a blanket that he couldn't really appreciate at the moment.

"Hey." Oof, he sounds rough. "Couldn't sleep." he murmurs, taking a sip. Making a vague gesture to the side of his head, he clears his throat.

"Too quiet, at least for me. It's really unsettling. I'm too used to New York." He immediately looks rather sheepish.

"I didn't wake you up, did I?"

Casey hums softly and nods, moving into the kitchen to join him. There's no rule that says she can't have her breakfast before she does everything else. She metabolizes everything fast enough that she won't end up with an upset stomach or any stomach cramps, so the routine she normally follows is just that way out of habit, not out of functionality.

"Oh, no. I'm always up at this hour getting ready to do my patrols. Have you tried using an app?" she asks, curious, as she makes her way to the refrigerator and starts to pull out what she'll need to make an omelet. "You know, like a sleep sounds app to mimic the noise of the city?"

It's important to be able to get some sleep, after all, so if there's anything she can think of that'll help Matt get some rest, she wants to try. The first thing that comes to mind, though, is something that simple and it might not even work for him but it's a start if the only thing bothering him is the quiet. She'd feel the same way if the tables were turned and they were in an urban area; she's used to the quiet.

"No, not uh. They don't really work for me." he replies quite matter of factly. "I'm pretty sensitive, I tend to, ah. Focus in on that." Matthew nudges out of the way so she has the kitchen.
He makes another vague gesture.
"It's the ambiance too, that I miss. Sirens, air conditioning units." He waves it off.

"I'll hopefully get used to it. New places tend to be incredibly difficult for me to adjust to in more ways than one." You know, like the end table.

"Speaking of. I should probably pay for that end table."

Casey gives him another apologetic look even though he can't see it. "That sucks," she says sympathetically. "What about a loud fan or something to just be white noise? It's not the same, but maybe it'd be easier to adjust to different white noise than nearly none at all," she offers as another suggestion.

As she starts the prep work for her breakfast, she pauses with Matt's comment about the end table. "Why? They can replace it when we all move out." She shrugs, mostly to herself. "I mean, I don't think any of us will miss it too terribly, do you? It's just a table, Matt." Casey pauses again. "...do you want an omelet? Since you're up?" she offers, her tone creeping into almost hopefulness because then at least if he's having breakfast with her, she's not just disturbing his alone time for no good reason.

"I might try the fan. It'll help with the..." Another vague wave. "Late mornings, I guess. Wouldn't want anyone to tiptoe around my hearing."

He leans against the opposite wall instead, now out of the way.

"If you say so; I don't want to take out any more furniture anyone might need, aha." he remarks, returning to his coffee for a moment.

He seems genuinely surprised at her offer, her tone though makes all the sense. Matt feels bad turning it down.

"I could eat, if you're offering. I'll clean up after, I'm sure you have somewhere to be." A beat passes.

"What do you do on patrols? If you don't mind me asking."

Casey smiles a little and nods. "Yeah, well, that'll come with time, right? Once you get kind of used to the layout, so long as Ben and I don't move anything or leave crap laying around in common areas?" she asks. She may or may not already have had the talk with Ben about making sure they keep their messes contained so that Matt doesn't have trouble navigating his new home. They won't have any trouble because they're sighted, so the least that she thinks they can do is keep things together so that he doesn't have to struggle any worse than he already will in a new place.

"You don't have to worry about it. I'm not in a rush. I'll skip the gym today, no big deal," she says, waving off the offer easily enough. "I'm just going to throw most of it in the dishwasher anyway."

Casey looks over her shoulder at him so that her voice will carry better. "What do you like in your omelet?" she asks, lifting her eyebrows in question. And, to his question, she answers simply enough. "Just...take an airborne look. Make sure nothing seedy's going on where I can see. It's kind of reflex, at this point. When I was a kid, my dad would do patrols for demons because that was a thing back home back then. It just kind of became a habit because eventually he taught me and I've just been doing it everywhere I end up."

"Pretty much. It'll get better." he reassures her with a smile and a nod.

He does look a bit guilty though when she mentions skipping the gym. "Please, don't let me keep you." In fact, he looks pensive for a moment. "Actually, I wouldn't mind cleaning as you go. If it's not too much to ask, I'd, uh. Appreciate you showing me where it is." The gym, that is.

Working and studying and being sedentary, even for a few days, has worn on him.

"Uh, anything. I'm not picky; just not plain." he adds, setting his coffee down to sneak back into the kitchen, pulling any residual dishes into the sink to wash.

"Airborne. I forgot you're..." Super. Really super, compared to some. "And demons? That sounds all so surreal."

She looks a little bit more surprised than she probably should, but at least he can't see it. While Casey is aware that Matt is perfectly capable of getting around and doing what he needs to do when he needs to do it, it never would've occurred to her that he might have the interest and ability to go to the gym like anybody else who wanted to keep in shape. She realizes belatedly how rude that is and feels kind of bad about it.

"Oh, yeah. Sure," she replies. "Well, then you can wash the skillet; I'm honestly just going to put the rest in the dishwasher," she adds, finally relenting. When he's not terribly specific, Casey lists off the things she's pulled out for her own: ham, cheese, tomatoes, green peppers, and onions. "All of the above or...?" she prompts, just to be sure.

A slight blush creeps over her lips as she starts to work on the first omelet. "Oh...yeah. I have a lot of abilities but the flight is my favorite, I have to admit. If you ever want to try sometime, I'm happy to offer up Air Casey as transport once in a while. I like taking people up with me; there's no better feeling," she says proudly. "And yeah...the demons are, well. They were a thing, but I know that's pretty weird to most people. They kind of stopped being much of a bother by the time I was old enough to join patrols officially." She looks over her shoulder at him briefly. "I sometimes forget how strange the idea of powers are a to a lot of people here...I'm so used to it..." She's assuming that Matt's new to whatever powers he might've gotten through the portal, but she doesn't ask about them. The way she figures it, he'll share if he wants her to know.

"Thanks." he offers flatly. "I try to go twice, three times a week at home. Would hate to drop that routine."

Matthew nods with a knowing smile; alright, he'll take the skillet over not helping at all.

"All of the above sounds fantastic." As stated, not terribly picky. And hey, it'd make the apartment smell like food, he can't really ever complain about that.
He seems incredibly interested when she mentions flight. Flight. One of those Avengers-type superhumans. Matthew was always humble about himself, but every once in a while, he liked to be reminded.
"Thanks, I think I'll keep my feet on the ground though." he remarks with a small chuckle. "Maybe eventually. Even being on planes is a little strange for me." So much going on, the disconnect, the roaring engine, the inability to discern simple vibrations from other people thanks to the engine and the hollow steel. It was like sticking his head into a CRT television, what with the static and electric noises, the keening of instruments---No thanks, not if he could help it.

"They are, but. Sorry, I don't mean to other you." Pursing his lips as he listens to her work, he sighs shortly. "It's not so strange where I'm from, as of late. But superhumans are a bit...exclusive." Save for the Defenders? Matt, are you fibbing?
"They're almost like celebrities. So few and yet, so in demand."

"That's good. This gym is pretty good, in my opinion," she says with a small smile. It's not the best one she's ever been to, but it's a good one. "Got it," she agrees, figuring Matt can have this first one and she'll take the next one. That way, when he finishes, he can start cleaning the skillet and she can finish her food and then they'll both be ready for the gym at the same time.

His chuckle is followed by one of her own. "Yeah, it's not for everybody, but if you change your mind, give me a shout." She likes to keep the option on the table even when people initially turn her down because, quite honestly, it's always more fun for her when she has someone along.

It doesn't take her too long to finish the first omelet and she plates it, moving to set it at the table with a fork and napkin. "Take the chair closest to you, I put your plate there for you," she says and then moves back to the stove to start her own. "And you're fine. I'm othered by default, I think. Even back home, I'm one of the handful of highest-powered folks. I inherited my dad's powers and he's...like, a lot, so... So don't feel bad. And I think even in places where there are a lot of people with powers, the people with them are fewer and further between, so they're kind of like celebrities where I came from, too." So few and yet, so in demand, if that doesn't sum it up, she doesn't know what does.

Casey's attention turns briefly to the food and a few moments later, her own omelet is finished. Everything except her pate and the skillet go promptly into the dishwasher and she grabs her plate and fork and napkin to join him at the table. "So you have them at home, too? That's cool, at least it's not a total culture shock then?" she asks hopefully as she slips into her chair across the table from him.

"That's great to hear; I haven't been to very many, I have a small...set up at home, sort of." Sort of. Just an abandoned one with no lease, no owner, and he had the keys.

"Thank you." he says, somewhat incredulous. It's not something he's super jazzed about, being doted on, but she doesn't know, and he's not going to tell her that he finds his way around with the same sensory powers she has. Not yet, at least.

He kindly awaits her to take a seat before he does start eating.

"Highest powered? So there's...tiers then. Of just a couple of powers to near god like, right?" Sounded somewhat familiar to home.

"Yeah, we do. Just a handful though, a few more in New York than in other places." A beat, he takes a bite.
"A couple in California, a couple in space, apparently. The news hasn't been terribly thorough about it, but I can't blame them. I'm sure most if not all of it is under massive amounts of security clearances I can't even dream of numbering."

"Similar to yours, however. Some are godlike, others? Pretty average joe types." Like Jessica, Luke. Danny, kind of. Him. He'd hardly cop to being super-powered though. Maybe just a little insane, with just really good hearing.

"Mmm, yeah. That's a good way of putting it, actually," she agrees. Tiers of power. She'd never really thought of it that way, but yeah. That's pretty accurate. Demons weren't as powerful as people with the Force, those people weren't as powerful as she, her dad, and Uncle Kon, and the Kents weren't as powerful as James and his father. ...actually, James might even be more powerful than his father since they're both angels but James also possesses the Force. Another thing she never really put much thought into.

Clearing her throat as she settles into her chair, Casey lifts her eyebrows. "Pretty average Joe as in not necessarily powered but still kicking ass and taking names or pretty average Joe like low-level or single superhuman powers?" she wonders casually before taking a bite. "Oh, also," she says, hiding her mouth behind her hand by reflex because it's full, "let me know if you want like salt or pepper or hot sauce or anything," she adds suddenly so that she doesn't forget to let him know that she won't be offended if he wants to spice his omelet up a little. She's not a great cook or anything. She just kind of gets by.

After chewing and swallowing, Casey's hand falls away from her mouth again. "Did the portal give you powers when you came in here? I got the impression from the guys that briefed me that that might be a thing. I guess it decided I was plenty powered enough because I haven't noticed anything new," she says with a little shrug.

He waves off her offer on condiments with a small smile. "No, thanks, this smells delicious." he remarks, starting to eat while he listens, nods, contemplates her questions and answers.

"Pretty average Joe by ways of both, actually." he gesticulates slightly, between bites. "Average people that don't...I don't know. Couldn't make it against an alien invasion I guess, but could stand to stop a mugging, or a small time gang or mafia." Another bite, and he mirror's the same motion she does, as his mouth is full but he doesn't want to lose the thought. "I think being able to 'kick ass' is a pretty broad range, but. I'd personally consider that a superpower." he finishes, along with that bite with a small smile.

But then she asks that, and he gives pause. He recalls from when they first talked, her first welcoming him and others, she mentioned she'd be able to hear anything in a ten mile radius, something that stood out to him specifically, something that didn't really worry him.

Not until now.

He really does try and play it cool, Matthew-the-master-of-poker-face-Murdock, but as he clears his throat and decides now would be a great time not to answer because his mouth is full of breakfast, he waves off the answer. Lies of omission were easier to sell than outright ones.

"Not, uh. Not exactly." Not technically a lie, but his pulse betrays him instantly and he knows it. No hiding it now. It felt weird to sort of be able to be open about this stuff, he did so much better when he didn't volunteer the information---as he thinks of what can be done with it in that moment, like Nobu's sensory control.

He swallows his bite, clearly uncomfortable. But, he wouldn't disqualify her; she seemed to be trustworthy so far, given how helpful, how kind she'd been.

"I'm like you. I had them, uh. I had them before."

Nodding, Casey takes another bite as Matt explains the range of powers where he comes from. "Yeah, I guess that's pretty broad," she agrees with a little laugh once she's swallowed her mouthful. "I knew what I meant," she adds as an excuse for the kind of dumb option for him to reference.

Casey's hearing is incredibly sensitive, but she's been trained to listen for sounds of distress; if anything is going to jump out at her, it's going to be someone screaming or calling for help. She could probably hear a lie in progress if she knew what to listen for, but she doesn't. It hadn't ever really been of interest to the other Kryptonians, so she'd never learned how. The only thing that actually betrays Matt is that he suddenly looks uncomfortable and Casey almost walks her question back. She would, except that she's still rapidly chewing and trying to swallow to give herself a chance to speak when he goes on.

Then, when he finishes, she looks a little confused at what the big to-do is. "Oh, cool," she says with a small smile. Practically everyone she knows is either powered or related to someone powered. Most of her family is powered, just her twin brothers and her mom excluded, and most of her friends, too, back home. To Casey, it's almost more weird when someone isn't super-powered. "Anything cool?" she asks, curious, but then she remembers how uncomfortable he just looked and she walks that one back before he can answer.

"Sorry, you don't have to answer that. Reflex. This sort of conversation is pretty normal for me back home. I can imagine some people are probably more used to keeping it a secret. My dad, like, has a secret identity and everything. The other Seal people know who he is, but the locals only know if they Google him. I have one, too, but I don't use it as much." They sort of went by way of the dinosaur back in Lawrence.

Klaus isn't supposed to be in this apartment. Not really. Not since he technically lives next door.

But Klaus is standing at the kitchen stove, attempting to cook something from a box, because he's pretty much over at this apartment with Ben than his own. Sure, they're siblings, and they'll need space, but Four and Six stick together.

"Hey Ben," He calls over his shoulder. "Do you think cooking these would work at double the temperature if we halve the time?" He turns to look, and then blinks.
"Oh, uh, sorry. Thought you were my brother-"

Edited 2020-01-12 19:00 (UTC)

"Don't worry about it." he replies quickly. "Don't feel bad, I thought you were Ben."

Not entirely true. Klaus had been in and out of the apartment enough that Matt started to recognize his awkward gait compared to Ben's, how he startled somewhat easy, the occasional nerves where his brother seemed a little more levelheaded. He was also, just louder in general. They sounded remarkably different for two men who were brothers, but he didn't even begin to think too much on it.

"To answer your question though; no, you'll just burn the outside, the inside will be cold." he offers, feeling his way alongside the counter to the coffee pot.

Klaus is definitely louder than Ben. Talks louder, acts louder. A hummingbird heartbeat and an easy grin wrapped in taut skin and the faint smell of alcohol and weed. He's been hanging out more and more often, even slept on the couch last night- how can he not, when there's no refuge from the ghosts here?
It's not like the last world they went to, where leaving Jeopardy means he can leave the specters behind. Oh, no, no, he has his powers back and in full strength, and it makes him slightly nauseous.

Klaus shoves the box to the back of the counter, leaning forward slightly, watching the stranger out of the corner of his eye grope across the edge and- oh, shit, is he blind?

"Uh, here, let me grab you a cup-" He yanks open a cabinet door to pull out two cups, setting them down with a soft ring of ceramic against the hard counters.
"I'm Klaus. Hargreeves. Nice to meet you...?"

"Oh, I mean. Thanks." he replies with a shy air about him. Nearly nothing escapes Matt about Klaus; how cautious he was, how he gravitated around him. He wouldn't forsake the kind gesture.
"Matthew. Matt's fine." he offers, along with his hand, towards the sound of Klaus speaking.
He still leaves his fingers on the counter, giving him some sort of gauge of space of the kitchen. It was still unfamiliar to him, he was working with only the echo of sounds in the apartment.

"Typically stay up this late?" Small talk. He already knew the answer, sort of. But it didn't hurt to be friendly.

"Matt, huh?" No last name. That's fine- there's plenty of reasons not to provide one, and Klaus knows better than to pry. So he lets an easy smile cross his lips as he works on fixing them both a cup of coffee.

"Nice to meet you~" Two packets of sugar for him, a good pour of whiskey, and creamer.

He doesn't answer the question about being up late. It's been harder to sleep here- the humidity of Florida reminding him of another subtropical zone. The quiet puts him on edge, the ghosts that plague him coming more and more frequently. The gore and blood make him sick- he's glad that there's some semblance of refuge around Ben.

Perhaps the rest are afraid of another ghost that could potentially rip them to shreds.

All the same, he's doubled down on his alcohol, hasn't found a reliable dealer for his weed, and it leaves him awake in the middle of the night. He talks in his sleep, wakes from the nightmares in a cold sweat, and can't get back to his uneasy dreams until the first of the dawn's rays start peeking over the clouds.

"How do you take your coffee?"

"Oh, black. Thank you, you don't---ah. Thank you." Despite him being around, Matt could really only pick up on small cues, small habits. His focus was more or less, diverted to his retaking the bar whenever it came about, trying to memorize maps, layouts, routes he could take. It was all exhausting, mentally.
Ugh, the heat. Don't get him started.
The whiskey doesn't go unnoticed either. Well, it was evening, and he won't blame a guy for a night cap. With coffee though, that could've been a double edged sword.

Maybe he's just worrying too much.

"It's nice to meet you too. Sorry I didn't introduce myself sooner, I've been, uh. Pretty busy, getting used to things again." he volunteers, leaning back against the counter, seeing as Klaus has so kindly commandeered coffee duty. He didn't really expect it, maybe from his other roommates.

“Getting used to things is an understatement, I imagine. I mean getting saddled with a power...” He sets up the cup to brew, takes a small swig of whisky, before putting it back up in the cabinet he’s hiding it in.

“Last place I ended up did it, too. At least I seem to have kept all the same shit, just in a different world.” He laughs, like it’s joke, and in a way it is. Biggest fucking cosmic joke this side of meeting his father in what he supposed was supposed to be heaven. Being saddled with the ghosts again, and on top of that the hearing of others thoughts, peeking into the corners of their mind without context- it’s like snippets of songs, a garbled mix of radio music as the apartment starts to fill.

He’s glad the whisky takes care of them both. So he crosses his arms tightly as the pot bubbles and brews away, contemplating bringing the bottle back down and trying to nurse away his demons.

“...What are you doing up so late?”

Edited 2020-01-29 04:42 (UTC)

"Last place? So this isn't your first stop either?" Don't mind his tone, somewhat incredulous. He feels like he's the only one here who hasn't been teleported somewhere crazy yet; and he's right, in this house he is.
Doesn't make him feel left out of anything, just...his perspective is way different than it used to be.

"It's not too crazy of a thing, to consider a superpower." he confesses, slightly. Nevermind that he's not exactly volunteering what his is.

"Studying." A natural response, but definitely a lie. He amends it quickly. "And I might be used to less quiet, less...humid places. I'm originally from New York."

“Nah, Ben and I both spent some time in another universe. Kinda similar to this one. Honestly? Technology is way better.” He crosses his arms again, awkward at making small talk. Matt seems the kind of guy who’s clean cut, and good natured. Not the usual type of person Klaus ends up gravitating towards.

He’s thankful for the beep of the coffee maker, so he can turn away and pour two cups.
“Studying? Are you in college or something?” It’s hard to get an estimate on Matt’s age- similar to his, he thinks. Not unusual for college, right?

But the last comment about being in New York- Where there’s more noise, where the weather doesn’t feel like stepping out into a sauna, brings a soft smile to his face.
“Oh, yeah? Big Apple? Always wanted to go- there’s a couple of really cool museums I’d love to go to- have you ever been to the Met? Or the MoMA?”

The moment it leaves his mouth, he realizes it’s a stupid question. What kind of idiot asks a blind man if he’s been to art museums???

"Not exactly. I'm a practicing lawyer back home. Not here. They want me to retake the bar. So, I'm brushing up." he replies, hands still idly playing with the countertop edge before coming to rest in front of him.

Klaus' question is well intended, and for that he's grateful. He can hear the instant regret Klaus has and it's kind of endearing. He smiles shyly and shakes his head before Klaus can berate himself, a hand coming up to stop him.
"I have. But only the Met. Over twenty years ago, before this happened." He makes a vague gesture to his face. "I was a kid. A lot has changed in there I'm sure." See? Not a stupid question.
"It was larger than life then. Still is now. Though if you want to see art and don't mind religious scenery, you should check out the churches." Steadily he shifts his weight.
"Closest you'll get to anything European. And they're typically free."

“Twenty years ago, huh?” He smiles, glad for the distraction. And brushing up on the bar, a lawyer back home- well, he would want to keep his number. Just in case. Just in case everything went-

No, no, don’t think about that. He steels himself with a soft intake of breath and reaches for the pot.

“What was your favorite? In the Met, I mean. Or church.”

"Yeah. School field trip." he adds.

The tension rises, and he's not sure why, or how. If he's making Klaus uncomfortable or not. So he stays still, where he's parked, looking particularly thoughtful.

"To be super honest with you I barely remember it. I remember the statues I think the most." A beat.

"As for churches, well. That young? Anything with a stained glass window. And not just because I stared at them for the whole hour either."

No, no, Matt, it's not you. It's the fact that Klaus has been dancing closer to his bad habits since arriving here. When he pours out the coffee, he takes a sip of his own, shakes his head, and pulls down the whisky bottle again.

"Statues, huh?" He can appreciate that. Never really had exposure to them outside of Ben's mortuary marker and a few peeks here and there at museums they helped save from being robbed.
He was more for the vibrant paintings of impressionism, of surrealism, of vibrant abstraction.

"And stained glass. Can't say I've ever really gotten to see good examples of that up close." And what he had seen was beautiful, in a way. Shards of jewel colored glass forming tapestries that spilled light across the floor... He remembers a night he had slept in a church. How... peaceful it had been in the morning, as the dawn hit that glass, a rainbow of light scattered across the floor like the most beautiful of broken things.

"Here, coffee-" He leans closer, scooting the cup across the counter until he nudges it against Matt's hand.

"It's not really the up close that they're impressive---I mean. They are. But it's when the sun hits them." he actually thinks outloud. "When I want to remember colors, I think of them." A small admittance, but he's rather trying to sell the idea of them instead of have a heart to heart.

Now that Klaus has brought the whiskey down again, he wonders if that might be an option to help him sleep. He also wonders if it's the reason for Klaus' nerves, or vice versa.

"Thanks." he sounds, gingerly taking it. Once the smell hits him though, he cocks his head to the side.

"Could I, uh. Steal a shot of that, actually?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure-" Klaus gently tips the bottle against Matt's cup, pouring out what is probably a little more than a shot's worth. Maybe two. You know, for good measure.

"And I think I know what you mean. I mean there was this time..." He trails off. Oh, that's hardly a good idea, is it? First conversation segwaying into 'Hi, I'm Klaus, I'm an addict that used to sleep in churches and I may have stolen the offering money before I left so I could score some sleeping pills'.

He clears his throat and takes another swig straight from the bottle before pouring another shot into his coffee.

"So- lawyer, huh? You said you were a defense attorney back home? Must have had some pretty interesting cases."

He notices, hand brushing over the countertop for the silverware drawer, to pull out a spoon. Might need to stir that up, to avoid the whole shot at once.
A turn and he can tell; he was a bit heavy handed.

"This time...?" he prods gently.

"Yeah, actually. Quite a few. None that I can really talk about. But, interesting." he offers.

Sipping at his coffee with a slight wince, he smiles a bit in spite of now having a spiked cup of black coffee.

"Is spiked coffee a nightly ritual for you then?"

"Can I plead the fifth on that?" Law jokes. That's funny, right?
He tries to laugh it off as he puts the bottle back in the cabinet, hiding it well behind some of the other essentials.

"I, uh... It helps. Get to sleep." He waves his hand like he can dismiss it, because how exactly can he explain his powers? Sure, yeah, they all have powers, but he feels like he's back to where he was before, where it wasn't common knowledge, where telling the wrong person that he can see what he sees will get him a one way ticket to a 72 hour hold. After all, back in Jeopardy? He could manifest them. He had others that could see them. That weren't his family. Now...

Alcohol helps. Weed is better. Opiods are the best. And that's not a discussion he wants to have with someone who's a stranger.

"I, uh, sorry I've kind of invaded the apartment..."

He does chuckle under his breath, sipping again at his coffee.

"Sure, but it's more incriminating if you do." he offers back with an air of humor. "Don't worry about it."

Matthew continues to take pauses to sip his coffee, really just contemplating what to say next. It's obvious Klaus isn't all that comfortable, he wants to choose his words carefully.

"I can relate. If I couldn't I wouldn't be here." he says with another shrug. "And don't be sorry. I'm almost never here, unless the campus is closed."

Klaus notices the chuckle, the soft smile against his coffee cup and it almost puts him at ease. Like he can let go of a breath he’s been holding, knowing that Matt won’t pry, that he won’t make a judgement for something like this. So quietly he sips his coffee, trying to unclench the muscles in his shoulders.

Honestly it reminds him a tiny bit of Dave, that easygoing humor, and he finds himself idly playing with the dog tags around his neck. It’s a pang of regret, a pain in his chest as he clutches that last piece of him he has. Just like the last world he was in- would he be able to summon him? And even if he could, would he remember him?
Would it even be the same man he’d loved?

“Still, you know, you didn’t ask for a fourth roommate.” He manages a soft laugh, trying to stay in the present, leaning back against the counter.
“But is Hargreeves are kind of a package deal. You’ll probably deal with all seven of us eventually. Good luck.”

Edited 2020-01-30 04:41 (UTC)

He doesn't know what it is that sets him at ease, but it's something, and he's glad for it. If he'd be over all the time, maybe it was better to not be on edge with him.

There's an unusual skip of breath he would ask about, but he doesn't.

"I mean, if we're going by what anyone's asked for here, I can't say I asked for any roommates. But I've been pleasantly surprised so far." Casey, Ben. As far as roommates, they were practically angels, and Casey especially.

"All seven of you. Sounds like an...exciting childhood, to say the least."

“Oh yeah, the half dozen siblings is just the start of it. All of us were born with powers, had this whole superhero squad thing, codenames and everything. It was so messed up.” He laughs, like it’s a huge joke- because it’s easier talking about the issues everyone else has instead of his own personal traumas.

“I mean, none of us are really in the superhero biz anymore. Took our own paths. But for a while...” he waves his hand.
“I don’t miss it.”

Edited 2020-01-30 23:42 (UTC)

Matthew raises his brows, clearly intrigued. So this wasn't outlandish for everyone here, and that doesn't relieve him of his nerves as much as he thought it would.

He forces a smile, trying to see the comedic side of it. But he remembers his comparison to celebrities earlier in the morning with Casey, and putting two and two together----if they were anything alike, he can't imagine they're doing well at all.

"I can't imagine you do. That's a lot for a kid." It's a lot for him on the daily, and he doesn't even really consider himself a superhero, just a guy with an action plan.

"It is easier now? After the fact."

"No." He says it without hesitating, a beat, and then clearing his throat. He didn't have it as bad as Allison, super famous, who had paparrazzi beating down her door. After all, after his tenth stint in rehab, it started getting old news, and the media moved on to new blood in the water.

"I mean... I don't really deal with the fame stuff back home. I think the last time anyone in the media even contacted me was after my sister wrote her book-" No, wait, no, is Vanya here? That's a door he doesn't want to open if she is.

God knows if it'll come through.

"ANYWAY- How are you dealing with it? Had anyone ask for your autograph yet?"

mornings

Casey is usually up before the sun, no matter where she happens to be, because she makes it a habit to patrol the skies before dawn to make sure everything is well. Her dad always did that in Lawrence and she'd started doing it, partially out of necessity, in Creepy Tree Town, and now...well. Now it's just habit, but she figures it's a pretty good one, so why not?

After that, she can usually be found in the complex's fitness center for an hour, at least, utilizing any and all of the equipment. If she's alone, usually at her own pace instead of what will look more like a human one. Then, it'll be back to the apartment for a cup of coffee and then a shower before she gets ready to go to work.

evenings

Most evenings, she's home because she's largely fortunate enough to get the normal 9-5 shift. That frees her up to make dinner for herself and, if she has an inkling that one or both of them will be around, her roommates if it's something that doesn't take a ton of effort and that she hasn't specifically bought for her own stash of groceries; if it's communal ingredients, she's likely to cook for all.

While Casey isn't much into television — it's hard to be when growing up in a world where most of the people around you are having their lives broadcast on television as entertainment for the locals — she does try to stay in the common space, curled into one corner of the couch or one of the chairs with a book or just her comm bracelet to play a little game or something. She's generally pretty sociable, even if she's usually fairly awkward, but she likes to think that she at least has some rapport built with Matt, by now, so maybe she's a little less awkward with him than she might be with Ben or any guests either of them might have over.

weekends

On the weekends, Casey is all over town running errands and checking out their new home, but she always comes back for meals because it's cheaper that way. Once it's sundown, she's likely to veg at home for a little while before she goes out on patrol again. A superhero's work never ends, after all. But yeah, she's around from time to time, probably grazing on snacky foods if not making actual meals.

whenever in between

(( or if you have another idea, hit her up! ))

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evenings, kitchen or bedroom

mornings, very early, kitchen

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Evening!

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cw: drugs, alcohol

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