There's a clear delay between the knock and the typewriter stopping--just a sentence that needs to be finished--as Alan actually registers the knock. Progress. The first three nights he'd been here he'd been ignoring them completely, assuming they were some sort of auditory hallucination.
When Alan opens the door it's with a slight nod, the usual vague surprise that someone's here to call on him etched on long features.
"Saga, hey."
He already has a feeling. He'll move aside for her to come in--there's lights now, a fridge, a changing screen, a bed, all thanks to her. The chalkboard has the humble beginnings of an idea web. Alan opens the door all the way, moves aside so Saga can enter if she pleases.
"I've actually been meaning to talk to you."
Edited (format? what format?) 2024-06-10 18:43 (UTC)
"Same here," she says with a faint smile. She'll walk in, and she's glad that there's at least some furniture in here now. It looks... better. Less like the creepy attic room.
He's a lunatic in Alan's book, and he's about to counter as such before Saga keeps talking. He gets it on some level--subconsciously, he really, earnestly does--but as his jaw clenches and he bites down from a sudden burst of frustration, logic and thought go neatly out the window.
"Good," she says then, "because he's not going to hit you again. So I expect you to keep your hands to yourself right back."
That is the tone of a very frustrated woman who's having to corral two toddlers traumatized men, both of whom she cares about. She breathes out, tired with the whole thing in a great weight.
"It's a small boat, Alan. I'm not saying you have to forgive him, even if he does apologize. But I'd appreciate if you didn't make my job harder."
"If?" Alan's grip on his desk tightens somewhat, Saga's words heard but not fully registering beyond that.
"If he apologizes? Guy assaults me out of nowhere, for some vague, nebulous reason, knocks me unconscious, and I'm not getting a single sorry? Are you kidding me?"
She could point out that Arthur Lester is going to save every person that was Taken by the Dark Presence. She could tell him that Arthur lost his daughter, so Alan's choices just may have hit a nerve. She could also point out that she hasn't gotten a goddamn fucking apology from him yet, not a real one, not one that wasn't motivated by the two of them having to work together. She's not even sure he's registered that losing Casey would have been a terrible blow all by itself.
But she isn't going to say those things. She decided, before she ever walked in here, that she wasn't going to say those things. So, thankfully, she has what she is going to say somewhat prepared.
"I can't make him sorry, Alan," she says, steady and matter-of-fact. "And an apology that someone doesn't mean is worthless. Neither of you are children. I'm going to do my job, help him work on himself, and I have to believe that somewhere down the line, he'll want to apologize himself. But forcing the matter is only going to make that day farther away. Change doesn't happen overnight."
A pause before-
"Character growth takes time, has to be earned, right?"
No, they're not children, and Alan is about to retort before Saga says the right thing at the right time once again. Saga's doing that a lot, enough for him to start to wonder how much of his's writing was actually pushing her one way or another. There's a thought, brief but there, heavy in the weight of the room that causes the writer's gaze to drop:
How much of what he did needed to be done, ultimately?
Alan's mouth presses into a hard line, as firm as Saga's tone but lacking the verity of it. He doesn't answer Saga's question because he knows she's right.
'I have to believe that somewhere down the line, he'll want to apologize himself.' That doesn't just go for Arthur, after all. She breathes out as she watches Alan mute himself, because that means he doesn't have an answer. It's about as good as she could hope for.
"Thank you," and she says is quietly, earnestly. She knows he's not happy, but at least it seems like he understands where she's coming from. It's progress.
She'll wait until the air feels clearer, until what feels like the right moment, and then she'll look around.
Alan pushes off from his desk for lack of anything to do, craving some sort of movement. There's no reason to start a fight, even though there's a huge part of him that desperately wants to. Saga's the wrong target, and at can least sort of see that. It's the frustration that's not going to go away any time soon.
The brief silence is nice, though. Gives him time to reset--not cool off, not entirely, but the conversation shifts with the appropriate tone. Alan'd be envious of Saga's ability if he was paying more attention to it and not himself. He runs is hands down his face, shoulders twisting in a very brief shrug.
"You weren't kidding about what you said when I first arrived about stories. Almost everyone's in the middle of or having completed the Hero's Journey." A brief pause. Alan looks up at Saga, and then over at his bed, sweeping over the amount of lights.
"I actually thought this place had more of a Heroine's Journey vibe," she says with a wry little twist to her lips. Her experience with Alan hadn't just been eye opening in one sense; it'd made her start to think about how people go through life, how their 'stories' are written. Coming here, she'd had even more time than she usually did, and a giant library. Is it really any wonder she'd checked out a few books on writing, given what she was supposed to be doing here.
"But I'm glad people are being helpful. Anyone I might know?"
“Murdock. Nice.” Alan’s sincere with that passing comment–he’s aware of the concept, even if he hasn’t looked into it too deeply. No need when your main character is unlucky in love and constantly down on his luck, the hard edges of hard boiled masculinity bearing the brunt of it all.
“Trevor Belmont stopped by with a burger and I got the perfect breakfast sandwich made by a Lovecraftian demon. A lot of lights–orbs? And someone was nice enough to give me a bed, too.”
He looks over at Saga, a small, tiny smile on his face as he gives her a look.
Maybe it's something to consider, Alan. Maybe it's a journey that someone close by might want to go through. Just a thought.
"Trevor mentioned he'd bring food by when I told him you might not remember to eat," she explains. She doesn't couch it in any delicate terms; they both know where he's been for the last 13 years and that he definitely hasn't been getting a balanced breakfast any of those days. "And Lovecraftian- John? Giant blond with the tattoos?"
She smiles at the mention of the light orbs.
"There were a lot of people up for helping you out and making sure you don't get stuck in the dark. Honestly, everyone's been pretty supportive."
Alan's acutely aware of Mr. Door's last words and how pointed their last conversation was. He's always had help whether he realized it or not. Saga's comment is something he understands completely, and he nods at her question.
"Hard to get used to," he confesses. It's a little softer than he intends it to be, so he clears his throat and changes the subject.
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When Alan opens the door it's with a slight nod, the usual vague surprise that someone's here to call on him etched on long features.
"Saga, hey."
He already has a feeling. He'll move aside for her to come in--there's lights now, a fridge, a changing screen, a bed, all thanks to her. The chalkboard has the humble beginnings of an idea web. Alan opens the door all the way, moves aside so Saga can enter if she pleases.
"I've actually been meaning to talk to you."
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A little bit less.
"How're you feeling?"
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"Fine." Extremely pissed just thinking about it. Alan raises his brow and can't help it:
"How's your white knight?"
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"Sounding kind of pissed for 'fine'." Just an observation. "Arthur's all right. We talked about his... choices."
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"You really think it was for no reason?"
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"He's not a lunatic, Alan. Or a shadow monster. He's a person. He had a reason."
She shakes her head.
"I- I wish he didn't hit you. But he had a reason."
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"Great. Then I have a reason to hit him back."
Hey, if they're going by that logic.
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"Good," she says then, "because he's not going to hit you again. So I expect you to keep your hands to yourself right back."
That is the tone of a very frustrated woman who's having to corral two
toddlerstraumatized men, both of whom she cares about. She breathes out, tired with the whole thing in a great weight."It's a small boat, Alan. I'm not saying you have to forgive him, even if he does apologize. But I'd appreciate if you didn't make my job harder."
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"If he apologizes? Guy assaults me out of nowhere, for some vague, nebulous reason, knocks me unconscious, and I'm not getting a single sorry? Are you kidding me?"
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She could point out that Arthur Lester is going to save every person that was Taken by the Dark Presence. She could tell him that Arthur lost his daughter, so Alan's choices just may have hit a nerve. She could also point out that she hasn't gotten a goddamn fucking apology from him yet, not a real one, not one that wasn't motivated by the two of them having to work together. She's not even sure he's registered that losing Casey would have been a terrible blow all by itself.
But she isn't going to say those things. She decided, before she ever walked in here, that she wasn't going to say those things. So, thankfully, she has what she is going to say somewhat prepared.
"I can't make him sorry, Alan," she says, steady and matter-of-fact. "And an apology that someone doesn't mean is worthless. Neither of you are children. I'm going to do my job, help him work on himself, and I have to believe that somewhere down the line, he'll want to apologize himself. But forcing the matter is only going to make that day farther away. Change doesn't happen overnight."
A pause before-
"Character growth takes time, has to be earned, right?"
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How much of what he did needed to be done, ultimately?
Alan's mouth presses into a hard line, as firm as Saga's tone but lacking the verity of it. He doesn't answer Saga's question because he knows she's right.
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"Thank you," and she says is quietly, earnestly. She knows he's not happy, but at least it seems like he understands where she's coming from. It's progress.
She'll wait until the air feels clearer, until what feels like the right moment, and then she'll look around.
"How's the barge been treating you otherwise?"
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The brief silence is nice, though. Gives him time to reset--not cool off, not entirely, but the conversation shifts with the appropriate tone. Alan'd be envious of Saga's ability if he was paying more attention to it and not himself. He runs is hands down his face, shoulders twisting in a very brief shrug.
"You weren't kidding about what you said when I first arrived about stories. Almost everyone's in the middle of or having completed the Hero's Journey." A brief pause. Alan looks up at Saga, and then over at his bed, sweeping over the amount of lights.
"And extremely helpful."
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"But I'm glad people are being helpful. Anyone I might know?"
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“Trevor Belmont stopped by with a burger and I got the perfect breakfast sandwich made by a Lovecraftian demon. A lot of lights–orbs? And someone was nice enough to give me a bed, too.”
He looks over at Saga, a small, tiny smile on his face as he gives her a look.
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"Trevor mentioned he'd bring food by when I told him you might not remember to eat," she explains. She doesn't couch it in any delicate terms; they both know where he's been for the last 13 years and that he definitely hasn't been getting a balanced breakfast any of those days. "And Lovecraftian- John? Giant blond with the tattoos?"
She smiles at the mention of the light orbs.
"There were a lot of people up for helping you out and making sure you don't get stuck in the dark. Honestly, everyone's been pretty supportive."
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"Hard to get used to," he confesses. It's a little softer than he intends it to be, so he clears his throat and changes the subject.
"You've really made yourself home here."