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Concussion, trauma, alcohol…it's a normal night for Sinjin.
No. No. It's not normal at all. He's not going to do this to himself. He cleans up, drinks a cup of tea, calls a cab, and forces himself to undo the bolts on his front door. Nothing's going to happen, he tells himself. Everything is going to be fine.
Sinjin runs the gauntlet of disapproving faces at Trish's apartment, as usual. They're resigned to seeing him now, they let him go up without more than the usual scowl. Is that a flicker of concern on the concierge's face, when he sees the new bruising and the butterfly tape on Sinjin's temple? Maybe Sinjin's like one of those cats that shows up so often, people get invested. Even a little.
Sinjin stops at Trish's door and thinks a moment before he knocks. Trying to talk himself into staying. His manuscript — he brought it for some reason, maybe for an excuse — is heavy in his satchel. Finally, he exhales and knocks.
*
It's late enough that Trish has already dressed in her pajamas, which consist of a floral patterned pajama pants and top, and she'd fallen asleep. Of course, she'd fallen asleep in her living room while reading a book, which has now fallen on the floor. It's for this very reason, however, that the knock at the door startles her awake more than it would have if she'd heard it from her bedroom. She blinks and rubs her eyes. She takes a deep breath in through her nose and lets it out slowly as she picks up her book and places it gently on a nearby side table. "Just a minute!" She calls out as she yawns.
Stretching as she stands, she putters to the door in her powder blue slippers. Unlocking the door, she opens it and stares out at Sinjin, blinking a few times to clear the tired blurriness from her eyes. "John?" She murmurs. Slowly her eyes widen as she realizes just how bad he actually looks.
"Oh, John! Come in, come in!" She steps aside and motions for him to enter. "Oh my goodness gracious! What happened?!"
*
"I went somewhere with David and your sister on Friday, that's what happened." John sounds more than a little taut about that. "Sorry, it's late." He takes in her clothing. "And you were asleep. I'm sorry, I just…it wasn't good." He runs his hands through his hair, wincing, and then gives her a mournful look. "I just thought, if I could see you, I'd feel better. Funny, when we started, I was wishing you were there and, by the end, I was really glad you weren't. That would have been a clusterfuck."
*
"Oh sweet gremlins in a bathtub!" Trish murmurs. "That would explain a thing or two, all right." She shakes her head at the mention of the time, and having been asleep. "Don't worry about it. Really. What's most important is that you're okay. Let's…let's have a look at those. Need any new bandages? I've got a first aid kit stored away in my bathroom." She starts fussing, gently brushing any little bandages and bruises she can see. "Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Something stronger? Not something stronger but something that isn't tea or coffee?"
Once they're fully back into the apartment, she motions to the couch. "Sit, sit." And then she gives him a stare, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe if I'd have been there, I could have saved you a bit of grief. Saved you from a cut or two."
*
"Something stronger, please." John leaves his satchel beside the couch and sits as he's ordered. "I think I'm good with the patch-job. I'm glad you weren't there, Trish. Someone was doing some kind of hallucinations or illusions of people's worst fears. And they got me good." He fidgets anxiously with his lighter, in that mindless way he has of toying with it for comfort, looking at it for a long moment before looking back at Trish.
"I wouldn't wish that on anyone but least of all, you." That part of this relationship thing, he has down, the worrying about her and wanting to protect her. "Under any other circumstances, I'd have agreed. It would have been good to have you there." She's tougher than she looks, he knows that.
*
Grabbing a bottle of scotch from her liquor cabinet, as well as a couple of glasses, Trish sits next to John and pours them each a little bit. As she hands a glass to John, she frowns. "That sounds horrible. I…I still wish I'd been there. I don't know how much help I would've been, but at least I could have helped with the aftermath of it all." She says softly.
She sips her scotch and looks John over with her brow furrowed in concern. "I'm just sorry you had to go through something so terrible to begin with. I'll have to check in with Jessica, too, and see how she's doing." It's bound to be a short conversation, but one she feels the need to have, regardless. "How are you doing? It's still so recent."
*
"I'm here, that's how I'm doing. I figure that's what people usually do, look for a little company, and I prefer yours." John wraps his fingers around his glass but he doesn't drink from it just yet. "You should definitely see Jessica. Or at least call. Things don't seem good for her right now. Someone broke in, stole everything, and painted her office purple. It seemed to upset her." He doesn't know what it means, but he thinks Trish should know.
*
"You figure?" Trish quirks an eyebrow, curious. There's a nod in regard to Jessica. "I uh…I know." There's a brief pause. "About the office, I mean. I was there when she found it like that. She's had a tough time, my sister." She sighs softly. "But so have you. And you're here." She gives him a little smile. "I'll help in any way that I can. Even if it's just as company. Being company for someone is something I know how do to."
*
"I'm not good at people," John admits. "I haven't had a home since I was sixteen, and not much of one before that. This is the longest I've had a roof over my head at all since my father threw me out." He looks over and gives her a little smile. "So I'm not really sure how all this is supposed to work. You two are lucky to have each other, you and Jessica. At least she's lucky to have you. You're really good to her, you know that? Not everyone is as kind as you are."
*
"You might be better at people than you think you are." Trish tells John as she lightly swirls the scotch in her glass. "Though I…" She scrunches up her nose slightly. "I am sorry. Not just about what happened to you the other day. But about what happened with your father." Stares quietly at her glass for a moment. "Parents are supposed to take care of us, look after us. They're not supposed to hurt us. I'm…I'm sorry." She murmurs again, look back up at John.
A little smile creeps onto her face once more. "I'm just as lucky to have Jessica. Honestly. She's inspired me so much, and in some ways she continues to inspire me. Besides, we're sisters." Even if it's by adoption. "She was my rock when I needed one, and I'm her rock when she needs one." She shrugs. "I'll be a rock for anyone I care about. It's not just about kindness, it's about caring for those you love."
*
"Well, I'm lucky I met you, then. How have you managed to stay out of trouble so well when Jessica is so good at getting into it?" John leans back with a sigh, then holds a hand out to Trish, scotch in the other. "Adopted or not, you're definitely sisters, and I half-expect to find out that you've been going out and running down muggers when I'm not looking or something. Not that it wouldn't be pretty great if you did."
*
Reaching her own hand out to hold John's, Trish chuckles and smiles, shaking her head. "Who's to say that I have manage to stay out of trouble?" She giggles. Turning her body sideways and leaning her shoulder against the back of the couch she shrugs. "I wouldn't say I've been running down muggers. The occasional gangster, maybe. A low-life thug here or there."
*
"Oh, this I need to hear." John's smile is more delighted than cynical. "Maybe I should be taking you with me. I'm a little limited in my responses. My settings are mostly "duck" and "barbeque". Not that I don't love barbeque duck but it's not really the thing for a crisis situation." He gives Trish's hand a squeeze. "Do you like it? I mean, if you're not kidding about that. I think you could probably take me in a fair fight so I'm thinking you're not entirely joking?"
*
"I'm not an expert at fighting, by any means. But I've um…I take self defence classes. I can hold my own well enough." Trish explains. "I pack a punch, if I'm really inclined, though." She blushes a little. "I've always thought it was, you know, kind of noble, being a person who stood up to the bad guys. I just, I don't know if I'm the kind of person who could fight them, you know? It must be so wonderful for…I dunno. For people who can use a special ability. I'm not special like that. I've just got my fists and my feet."
*
"I don't know about wonderful but when things are bad, it's always nice to be able to change it in one way or another. I didn't set out to be someone who stood up to anything, to be honest with you. Everything that's happened so far, it's just…I guess I decided to do the right thing and that's what came of it." Trish's blush is rather endearing. Most of what Trish does is endearing, to be honest.
"Most of the trouble I've gotten into and out of has nothing to do with being able to set fire to things," John says, turning over what she's said. "It's mostly in your brain, in the long run. How you use what you have. What fights you pick. Knowing what you're doing. You're smart, moral, and determined, Trish. Combine that with being able to kick some sense into a person and you're on your way to doing that hero thing. Not that I recommend it, mind you. You've seen what I look like."
*
"You really did a bad job of not standing up to anything, then, I guess." Trish grins. "'Decided to do the right thing'." She repeats, thinking about those words. "Knowing what fights to pick. Knowing what I'm doing." She clucks her tongue and shakes her head. "You're teaching me a whole bunch right now! And you think I'm the smart one?" She tilts her head once more. "You know, I think it was Socrates, or someone like that, who once wrote, 'I myself know nothing, except just a little, enough to extract an argument from another man who is wise and to receive it fairly.'" She waggles an eyebrow, grinning. "I seem to have extracted an argument from you, and now I'll just have to receive it fairly!"
*
Sinjin can't help laughing at her. "I like you, you know that?" he says, still laughing a little. "I've never known anyone like you in my life. You come in the room and it's like someone turns on a light switch and I didn't even know how dark it was until you came and lit it up. I've never been around anyone who just made me happy the way you do. I think you can probably do anything you want to, Trish. Really."
*
"Or maybe it was Plato who said it…Plato? Socrates?" Trish furrows her brow, thinking, slowly taking a sip of her drink. The laughter brings her back to reality, though, and she flashes a smile at Sinjin. "Aww. Well, that's so sweet of you to say, John! I'm glad. I really am." She speaks in a soft, genuine tone. "Maybe. But I'd definitely want you by my side. At least the first few times I did anything. I'd be too scared to do anything on my own. I mean, what if I do something wrong and seriously hurt someone?"
*
"That happens." John's laughter fades. "I've made mistakes and the price has been…well, it keeps me up at night. And I've gotten it right and caused a lot of damage, too. It's a chance you take, Trish, because the consequences of not doing it are worse. What if you do nothing and someone dies as a result? But I'll come with you, of course. More time with you is always good for me. You might hate it, you might love it. But if you feel like you need to do something more with your life, of course I've got your back."
*