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[nonfictional]

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[oddswerebad]

[Nico was told he should greet someone in person even if they'd been talking over text. It's unlikely Cates would say that it applies to this situation, but Nico works with what he was taught.]

That I'd be older? [He suggests.]

I'm probably twenty. [If that helps. He doesn't see himself that way, but he also doesn't see himself as seventeen. Removed from any social context, age seems meaningless, but he knows other people attach importance to different numbers.]

[nonfictional]

[ Is this shitty? This is shitty. Alan feels like he's being a bit shitty. He grits his teeth, trying to actively curb that part of himself--hey, he's trying to be a better person, what with an attempt at graduating and all that--and nods. ]

Right.

[ They both look like they don't sleep. Unfortunate common ground? Either way, he's sliding over and sitting a free table the moment he gets his hand on a cup of coffee to continue the conversation. ]

Does the warden-inmate shuffle get any easier?

[oddswerebad]

[Nico looks as if he hasn't gotten a good night's sleep in - however long it is he's been alive. Alan doesn't look like he's had much better luck, so perhaps he has equal difficulties in settling his thoughts.

He sits down too, holding a cup off coffee between his hands. He always seems to feel cold.]

Not really.

Not if you're... not used to speaking to people. Much. [It might be easier for the more sociable.]

[nonfictional]

[ Alan's brow lifts at that. Yeah. Makes sense. It's something he gets, mostly because he's not the world's best at socializing to begin with. ]

So, what happens now?

[ Mostly he's got no clue. Charlie had been great, lot of good conversations, but checked in frequently, but this? This is new. An unknown factor. Interesting, but a bit confusing. ]

You're my second. Warden, I mean, I'm--newer.

[oddswerebad]

You're my second inmate, since I came here again.

I was here before, for a few years. I was sent home, without any memories. Then I came back here.

[It's his job to make an effort.]

What did you do? Before you were here.

[nonfictional]

I'm a writer. [ Still is, as far as he's concerned--and it's the correct thing to ask, if his body language is anything to go by. Alan leans forward, elbows on the table, grabbing for the coffee. ]

Thrillers, mostly. Horror, lately. [ There's a bit of an edge to that last tone. He exhales. ]

Do you mean you were here before, but don't remember anything from that time? Did you ever regain them?

[oddswerebad]

I haven’t gotten the chance to read a lot of nonfiction [which is both true and possibly the more polite way to phrase it.]

From what I’ve - heard, those types might be too close to home. [It’s a joke, but as his expression and tone don’t really change, it can be almost impossible to tell.]

I remembered everything from the last time I was here as soon as I was here again.

[nonfictional]

[ There's a wry, humourless smile at Nico's comment--he's bang on the money with that, and Alan busies himself with a sip of his coffee in order to subconsciously not fully answer that. ]

Was it hard to adjust?

[oddswerebad]

[He runs his thumb against the rim of his cup, as if he's taking a moment to think. There are a lot of little tics he's taken up to... fit.]

I, uh, wasn't... very well adjusted before. So, it was just - different.

Have you adjusted?

[nonfictional]

[ Definitely relatable. Maybe the temporary pairing isn't so bad, even if it feels like an awkward date to him. Ice breakers and all that. ]

God, no. That's probably going to be a slow process. [ He's clearly displeased with it. But he does lean forward. ]

There's something I should probably let you know. Zhao Yunlan was talking a while ago about having a contingency plan for in case things get bad, here, right?

[oddswerebad]

[He nods, growing less tentative.]

It always useful to have contingency plans. Depending on your world, the Barge can require contingencies for far stranger situations than you're used to, but you can also list them more easily.

I take it you've come up with some?

[nonfictional]

No--it's something I've just started working on. You're the first person I've told.

[ God, how the hell does he even describe this? Alan's quite for a few moments, elbows still on the table, ruminating. Brooding. Trying to work things out in his mind before he says it. ]

I'm not a danger. But if the Barge winds up anywhere near or around The Dark Place, that can change pretty quickly.

[oddswerebad]

[He’s fully focused, now. There’s still some tension, but just the chord that’s always there underneath.]

Do you know what sort of danger you would be to yourself and others if we went near - or into - this ‘the Dark Place’.

[nonfictional]

[ There has to be a better way to answer this rather than exposition. Despite this thought, Alan's alarmingly quick with what he's saying. ]

I'm not even entirely sure if the Dark Place itself will trigger it--him. I call him Mr. Scratch. He's inside me, I thought--Saga and I have put him to rest, I can't feel him any more, but just in case--

[ He presses his lips into a thin line. ]

--Your base, cruel instincts, thoughts, urges. It's what it looks like if you give into them, all of them. He tore people to shreds, he--

[ His gaze tilts back up. ]

It's bad.

[oddswerebad]

[Nico has a good idea of what base, cruel instincts, thoughts, and urges can look like. He appreciates when people make an effort to keep them in check in general - he also has no doubt it's bad.

He nods.]

Does... he have 'supernatural' abilities?

[nonfictional]

[ Alan nods. ]

There's a part of the Dark Presence in him. [ A quick correction: ] in me. Maybe. It should be gone, I can't feel him--but uh, yeah. He's darkness, shadow... Strong. Fast. He can sort of--move, like a shift or a shadowstep.

[ A quick glance over. ]

Do you know Saga Anderson?

[oddswerebad]

I've seen her.

Saga has some sort of power over it? If she's willing to use that...

If so, then the main contingencies would probably be based on whether she's out or not in a state where she could - or possibly would - deal with him.

[nonfictional]

It was a group effort. My wife, too.

[ He winces. Just thinking about this shit is bringing on a migraine, but at least he can recognize it for a tension headache and not Scratch trying to worm his way in. ]

I can tell--sometimes--when it's going to happen. If I feel him I'll send out some sort of message.

[oddswerebad]

[He nods. He's better at focusing on the practical but he manages;]

I'm sorry. I'm sure it's not - easy.

[nonfictional]

Don't-- [ Alan's jaw is set. His voice hadn't risen, but there's still an edge. One he actively tampers down. ] --Don't apologize.

[ And with a sigh, he'll lean forward and put his head in his hands. ]

Hopefully it won't even matter--you should have an easy time with me otherwise. I'm not looking to get into anything, I just want to write.

[oddswerebad]

[Any edge is enough for Nico to retreat into himself. He shrinks back when someone he knows, let alone a stranger.]

You should have free time.

[nonfictional]

Too much of it.

[ Those hands on his face slide down, as if the act of rubbing his cheeks and jaw can shake out how fucking tired he feels, far too self absorbed to pick up on the little shift. Nico looks about the same as he does: tired. And now the important, ground breaking shit is out of the way. ]

So. What about you?

[oddswerebad]

Uh. What about me?

[He's not trying to avoid the question. It's just that there's a lot of... stuff that could go under the question.]

[nonfictional]

[ Alan's voice is light, not at all upset or accusatory, just curious. ]

Considering I just admitted one of the reasons I'm probably here, I figured a bit of a background on my new warden wouldn't be out of pocket to ask for.

[ He'll lead the witness, though. Start with something simple. ]

You look about as tired as me.

cw epidemic that targeted children; not directly stated child abuse (as medicial experiment)

[oddswerebad]

[It's a simple question, but the answer goes back to the start.]

More than a decade ago... in, uh, my universe and according to my personal timeline, the United States was hit by a... disease that they call now IAAN. Out of children between the ages of eight and fourteen, only two percent survived. I believe the percentage has continued for the next group of kids who turned eight.

[He can say that much at one remove. He tugs at a loose thread on his cuff.]

The government wanted to figure out what caused the disease. I spent a lot of my life in labs.