1964-01-24 - Mi Casa, Su Casa
Summary: Branching out from Uncle Pietro's! Seriously.
Related: N/A
Theme Song: None
hope tommy 

Welcome to the world of two young adults striking out on their own. While Tommy had certainly appreciated Pietro's generosity in letting him and Hope stay at the other apartment as long as they did, the teen rom Jersey was a prideful creature; charity wasn't something that he was ever offered as a kid, nor something he really wanted as an adult. In truth, had it not been for Hope and the need to keep a roof over her head, preferably far away from where the Bishop — who Tommy presently imagines wearing billowy church robes — can find her, he probably wouldn't have asked. He would have dealt with a worse condition. But it was now time that he made it out on his own, and he knew that.

Well, not /entirely/ on his own. The redhead at his side as they walk through the door of their modest place is a reminder of that and much like she convinced him to accept the aforementioned charity, she did the same of allowing him to rely on her to share some of the burden of maintaining the place — and making their runs on a variety of marks for the initial down payment. Generosity is always better when it's earned and the people giving don't realize they're giving, right? Right.

Once inside, the door's closed behind them and Tommy digs into a pocket to offer over one of the keys to said door towards Hope. "Well. This is it." e says, voice a mixture of relief and… concern? The latter's uncommon for the guy so often full of bravado and little else, but it's definitely there.


Hope knows very little about how people get apartments and places to live in this day. In her age, you either took it or bought it with goods gotten the same way they do now, so it turns out things change little throughout the centuries. She may be selective about her marks: anti-mutant protesters, businessmen, sketchy criminals. Families, young people, and the elderly are strictly avoided unless they can be certain those are scumbags. But skimming off the top doesn't seem to bother her. The speedster and his dark reflection don't seem to have much in the way of scruples to worry about. She still gulps when they enter the brick building.

When it comes down to getting everything sorted out, that's Tommy's business. He at least has a history and a tie to the past. Her life didn't even come with that short of 'cybernetic bear father somewhere.' They have so little of hers to move over, anyways, it basically fits in the suitcase she carries in her hand, and the bag always strapped over her shoulder. That makes handholding a bit tricky. She might be uncomfortable that her draw is impeded, but having Tommy about makes the other scary elements - a house, a place they have to pay for - easier. A little.

"So this means you got to get a legit job, right?" The door is shut. She glances askance into the room. From the door, pretty much everything is visible. "We're gonna have to find a bed somehow." It's not like they stole the bed from any house, and even if they did, how would they move it? No, they have to do actual purchase there, or get help hauling it up unless someone finds Hope a teleporter. Her teeth sink into her lower lip, and she rubs her hand over the back of her head, hair smoothed down. The place feels a bit empty, but that's better than being outside in the cold. "Um… I brought towels?"

Fear that smirk.


For Tommy, it was a little bit of trial and error… and a lot of asking the adults for advice. Which wasn't something that he particularly /enjoyed/ doing, admittedly… showing weakness in not knowing something, and especially showing that weakness to the parental units? Yeah, not high on his list of priorities.

Still, the speedster knew that he had to get this right. If it were just him, learn as you go would've been fine, but it wasn't. …it was still weird to him having to think of someone else as readily as he had to these days. He didn't always get that right, but the effort was undoubtably there to think of the 'them' rather than just the 'him'.

Said thought is why he leans over and gives Hope a quick peck on the cheek. Squeezing her hand before releasing it to walk further into the place. Getting a lay of the land — learning in slow motion to operate in fast forward. "Yeah, yeah. Can't say I'm looking forward to it, but… stealing isn't going to pay all our bills." Tommy replies, tucking his hands in his pockets briefly, before deciding to take the jacket off instead, and toss it at the counter. A coatrack? He should've grabbed one of those. "Well. Lemme rephrase. Theft /shouldn't/ pay all our bills." …maybe it could supplement on occasion, if they needed it. He wasn't about to put anyone else's needs above their own — it just wasn't his way. Not when it came to the basics of survival.

"A bed would be good. I've still got a little cash left over from our spree, but I'm not sure it'll be enough. We'll have to shop." Another thing that Tommy wasn't entirely accustomed to. But that was alright. Running a hand back through his hair, he turned his attention over towards her, flashing the slightest of grins. "How're those cooking lessons going?" …and then a laugh — a delighted laugh. "Good! We'll need them. Laundromat's not far either, for when we need /that./"


The world contains more than herself, and slowly widens by dragging Hope kicking and grumbling into a bigger social circle. Tommy went and found a way to pry open her worldview a little more without triggering atavistic distrust. She falters only for a moment, putting down her suitcase and finding a spot for the bulging canvas bag holding the sum of her life's possessions… Those not stored in caches and lockers around the city, anyways.

"Yeah. That's kind of a priority because I don't think you want to finish a hard day of doing whatever lying on the ground."

Not hardwood floors, anyways. Carpet may be cheaper but not in this building, which has an age slightly beyond Tommy's great-grandparents. This is not as old as meets the eye, frighteningly.

She blots her lips and then looks a bit oddly. "So, yeah. I'm not really sure what we do next other than hang the towels up. Do we dumpster dive? Start haunting alleys around the East Side hoping to find some chairs and stuff, or do you want to do things a bit more properly? Like…places they sell furniture. Old furniture." Yard sale is probably not a concept that translated into the dystopian future. Don't laugh at the poor thing. "I could probably ask Raven to get me some fake identification papers, but I don't want to get too deep into anyone's debt."

Well, to be fair, he's not just anyone. "I can make some food without destroying it. You guys use powdered everything around here. We won't die if we have a powdered soup. Like, it's boring, but grilling meat and eating soup is about as basic as you get." She then sticks her tongue out at the speedster, giving the counter a once over. Space, they've got a lot by her standards, and not much by Jersey housing standards. Even bungalows are a bit big. "Now what? You want to go find some furniture or food or shine up the place to make it yours?"


Thus is the inevitable result of a partnership between a social butterfly and a lone survivor. One of them had to give, and logic went his way. They needed other people to get where they needed to be… it wasn't the kind of thing they could do alone, no matter how much they wanted to.

"Not really, no. Or wake up and have to go /start/ a hard day of doing whatever after a night on the ground." Tommy admits, crinkling his nose slightly. "I'd have to beg you for massages or something." …which, admittedly, does have an appeal to it. "Not sure what I'm gonna do yet. Delivery's probably my best bet — Ava, you know, the girl with the dress? She does delivery for a takeout place, I might see if she can get me an in. Or I might /try/ talking directly to Stark, like Pepper suggested." There's something just a little intimidating about that which he doesn't want to admit to, though.

Walking a bit forward, he pushes open one of the doors and… "There, bathroom. I should probably grab my clothes and stuff from Pietro's…" Clothes he has a'plenty. It was almost a requirement considering before the initial move, he was bouncing between two parental houses. "…you wanna hang 'em up while I run down and grab a paper? I bet there's some yard or rummage sales goin' on. Even in /this/ cold." Commerce goes on, undeterred by mother nature.. and he's happy to try and fill in the blanks for her, without teasing her /too/ much. "Papers are gonna be a must eventually, real or fake. I'm not sure how the government would take to you… I really should ask Steve and see what he thinks." There's a bit of a frown, there. He's getting used to the idea of asking the Doctor for help, but he still doesn't like it. Even if he's warming up to both of the parents more each day. "…but however we have to get 'em, it should be planned out up front." Pause. "I'm not opposed to us doing a favor for Raven if she helps us out with that; I respect a lot of what her people have been doin'," Yeah, he's a fan. "…but if you're not /sure/ she's on the up and up, gettin' into a Godfather situation where we owe her /something/ later ain't ideal."

He'll probably need to explain that reference, but he'll realize that eventually. "Cool. That's probably better than me, honestly." Tommy admits laughing, but flashing her an honest smile. Zipping over and kissing her right on the tip of her nose. "We might have a few bumps in this crazy world… but you and me? We're gonna be just fine. If nothin' else, I know what /not/ to do, and that's a big start."

And after any reply from Hope? He's off like a bullet to collect said newspaper.


Bound to be better to let Tommy go do his thing. "We gotta make a few trips on the bus, unless you can convince that brother of yours to help haul stuff. I'm pretty strong but unfortunately not so much as some." She's in about peak condition as one can get for a girl on the run, fed primarily by sandwiches and cheese in all its forms. Cheese is a glorious wonder to be worshipped in melted and block form. Not Velveeta, not American cheese slices, proper actual cheese product from a cow. She has vocal opinions about Cheez-Whiz, and who would subject themselves to that when they can have a squeaky ball of mozzarella?

Cheesy daydreams will follow after a kiss back to the corner of Tommy's mouth. "Yeah. Go see if there's something that Ava woman can get you. She seems nice, though remember, eyes up here. Being checked out is so obvious to a girl, you know" A gentle chide, but he's probably already gone by then. That's fine. She can put away a few sets of cutlery in drawers, towels in the bathroom, and some clothes folded up in the built-in closet. Said closet is deep, and she has few needs for hangers because her clothing amounts to little. Tommy will be overflowing at this rate, and hopefully he'll remember to bring those extra bits until they get drawers.

Cleaning up their flat isn't very hard, either, given there's no touch to do. She runs all the faucets - two sets, nothing fancy - until the pipes stop groaning and rattling, and then rubs down the windowsills, all those other places where dust can tell her whom comes and goes. By then Tommy's likely back, but if not, she'll find her tidying. She's not a pack rat, he probably already knows this. Only when it comes to ammunition, and a few boxes of those are squirrelled away, which is why she's found cleaning her gun.


"Yup, no super strength here either… and carrying furniture through the streets wouldn't be easy at all." Tommy can just imagine it, dealing with a wobbling mattress while running at speed? That'd be more like bowling for pedestrians, to be truthful. Carrying /people/ is different. One he could do with no problem. Two? Maybe a teensy problem, but nothing that he can't handle. Heavy wood furniture or floppy mattresses, different story altogether.

Oh, he catches that chide on his way out the door.. and it results in the echo of laughter down the halls and stairways of the apartment building that might make some think the place is haunted. Well. If it does, that can only lower the price of rent, right? Right. The search for a newsstand doesn't take /too/ long given Tommy's knowledge of the city, and a couple of coins are exchanged for a paper. A tip of an imaginary cap follows to the man running the stand, followed by a walk away at normal speed… at least until he can duck into an alleyway to disappear.

The way back is pretty simple ad direct — no detours. They'd cased the place by day and night before settling on it to determine how secure they felt there… but Tommy can't help but be just a little bit on edge just by the nature of a new place. Plus, any side-trips for snacks should probably involve Hope, too.

When he returns to find her cleaning her gun? There's a brief smile to his lips; yup, firearms are probably a good choice for presents for the girl. But he walks over, and drops the paper on the ground; the headline proclaiming this or that, but that's not the part he's interested in. No, he's going for the classified section… and watching him read is a trippy experience for anyone who's not used to it. There's a brief moment where the paper's no longer held, it moves about an inch between the time Tommy drops it, gets up, grabs a pen, and plops back down to collect it again. Then he starts circling things.

"Yeah, I know. You know I won't touch, though, right?" is offered, before another circle, a couple are crossed out as being too far for feasibility. "Some dude tried to pick me up in Mutant Town the other day; totally blew him off." Tommy reports, circle circle. "Some pale chick made an offer too; politely declined. I'm being /good./" he beams, leaning over to bump his shoulder against hers briefly. "Ava seems pretty cool. I think she's like us, too. She does zappy things." If Hope hadn't noticed. "…and it looks like she's trying to do good with it, too." Considering she was trying to rid the world of Vigor.


The final arbiter on who is exactly like them? The Messiah's weird genetics, more than anything. The girl who can reach out and touch another mutant's being is a pretty good gauge if someone is augmented, mutant, or worse. Still, she'll take the nod on Ava in stride; her usual snarky paranoia has to take a back seat to someone sneaking into a club for information about drugs. She's been fed the details, now to see what Ava does with it.

"Being good? Well, good. Because I'd hate to have some guy in here making eyes at you and a line out around the door." Her eyebrows arch slightly at this confession, and definitions of being good. "Of course you've got to be good because I'm holding a Glock, and all. But I'm just saying, some people don't like being looked up or down. They get real touchy. It's weird to watch."

Putting aside the weapon, she gives him a bit of a lengthier smile, seeing the platinum haired mutant disappear behind the newspaper for maybe three seconds. He's diligent in study the way she is not, though the education system of her future leaves a great deal to be desired. "We can try for papers our way. I'll ask around, see if Raven can score me something without too much trouble. You go bug your people." That whole family idea is weird, yes. "I figure we can pay a bit to get people to help move furniture up. Like, real stores have a service to do that, I'm sure of it. Or we find other solutions. But until then, hey, we've got a bathtub all to ourselves, and a heater, and a sink. The stove and the oven, the fridge. Pretty awesome. Oh, and don't forget the counter."

Plus whatever he brought over. "Maybe if we lay all your clothes out, we could sleep on it. Or you figure that we should probably stay at your uncle's until we get a bed? I don't mind roughing it. This isn't really rough."

The dark glitter to her emerald eyes is dangerous, and it takes very little to know it. "Or do you wanna try rough? I know I can take it. Can you?"


Whereas for Tommy? It's mostly guesswork that tells him who's a mutant and who isn't. If there weren't a decent amount of them that he hung out with? He'd probably be wrong more often than not. Because 'powers' are what scream mutant to him moreso than anything else.

Her words are responded to with a sticking out of his tongue, "You holding the Glock doesn't /hurt,/ but… that's not the reason why." Tommy points out lips curving into a brief smile, followed by a nod. "I'll work on it, though." The mass-friend zoning isn't as easy to accomplish as the 'just don't touch' standard he's starting from, but it's not an impossible task, either.

The paper's set back down once he finishes circling — if she looks, it's places close by that have been indicated. Plus a vague line drawn over the 'pets for sale' area because he's got a hummingbird's brain and it flits around all over the place.

"You know, I've got a friend that could probably get her hands on a truck for the things that we don't get from actual stores," He's pretty sure Julie was driving one when they'd gone down to Mutant Town, after all. Notepad is grabbed, he starts transferring information. Organized by date. Once that's done, he pauses and gives her a long, thoughtful look. Pondering. Actually thinking /before/ speaking. "Babe, I can handle it as rough as you can." There's a wink to that. Yes, he saw that look in her eyes. "…and my Uncle's good people, but… I'd rather the privacy, you know?" Not to mention that while he's happy to throw himself into danger, he's less excited to bring it to the family. Part of why a place of their own was important. "So. We've got a couple sales goin' on today that we can hit. Furniture store's important. Grocery store /doubly/ important." Because they eat a /lot./


"You know I'm teasing you, right? I wouldn't be here if I thought you were trouble that way. I put it out there, though, if something is messed up, say so." Putting away the tools of her trade into a well-tended canvas roll, Hope gives every little piece its place, and stows that back in her bag. "I'm not good at this whole thing, like dating or whatever. It's new. I'll fuck up. Give me a chance to not muck up, but I promise you you're the only one getting the goods."

The sales are a thing, something worth looking at. Nodding, she lets him figure out the plan of attack while she takes care of other things; putting her gun away in her holster, and peering into the fridge to see the volume it can hold. "I brought a few buns and another chocolate bar. You want some, or you going to plot the way to move across the city?" The question comes as the candy bar skitters out of pocket and then flies over the counter, her lunge to catch it failing. On the other hand, she's sprawled over the counter and not quite careening over the edge to land on her head.

"Damn it, this is way more slippery than it looks. Shepherd, seriously, try it." Counter surfing, it's now a thing. She can't help it. Or maybe it's to snap his head over and put another thought in his hummingbird brain.


"Well, yeah. If I thought you might /shoot/ me, we'd probably be wrestling over it by now." Tommy replies cheerfully, giving her another gentle bump of shoulder to shoulder. There /was/ a reason he introduced her to the women in his life as quick as he could though. It was a message to both sides. Her confession at being bad at things? That's enough to invite a hug and a kiss on her cheek. "You're talkin' to the king of screw-ups here, Spicecake. Just like the other night… if there's something that we gotta hammer out 'cause it's messed up? We'll talk about it. I… like you, Hope. I like you a /lot./" There's an honest smile offered her way. "I'm willing to put in as much effort as I gotta to keep you around." …and then comes the playfulness, "…and keep those goods to myself."

Times are considered — and he's looking up towards Hope just about the time she's diving for the candy bar. It's little surprise when he's on a knee /with/ the bar in hand, offered up towards her sprawled out self. "Drop somethin'? And eating here is good, I'll put out a call to Julie — she's an old friend of mine by the way — about the truck. Then groceries and stuff." Depending on said truck's availability, of course.

…of course, then she's challenging him to counter-surf, and he can't help but grin. He's not about to back down from /that/ challenge. However, he /does/ do it at a faster speed than he should… goes sailing right /over/ the counter and towards the floor of the dining-slash-living room with a *THUD*

…but he's laughing on the landing. Clearly not hurt too much. And it was fun!


"You'd wrestle me with a gun? You are a dangerous kid, but then I know by now I'm better off just bonking you on the head with the gun. It's no fair if you can move faster than the bullet," sighs the redheaded fireball, and she dares to stick her tongue out when he rubs shoulders. "You don't get to be King Screw-up, Moonbeam. Doesn't work that way. Until you blow up the world, you get to be no more than Lord Moonbeam, and you can explain messed up stuff or how I screwed up shit because I don't get the way the world works. I know that's a problem." At least she can identify her failings, which is important. Her teeth flash in a grin, short-lived but honest enough.

"And—" … well, she could say something but words only come out so fast and he's bloody flying past her on the dumbest slip and slide ever invented. Ever.

"Oh my…" There is going to be a padded loveseat or something at the end of the counter to catch such flying beasts as Tommy. He is a spill of movement that crash lands, and she has to stop herself from doubling over in laughter. "Oh my God."

"Wouldn't be the first time I've been called that," Tommy points out, rolling over onto his back now. The process of getting up is slow and interrupted with the occasional laugh because counter-sliding is /fun/ and he can't even deny it. "Though I won't deny it's a /little/ worrisome that you've already figured out how to take me down." Pause. "Probably smart, though, and I respect the honesty."

Then comes sitting up, palms pushing flat against the hardwood floor. Her little pet name for him gets a cheery grin as he moves to stand. "Well. I'm still a long way from blowing up /planets./ I used to be able to handle buildings, but…" he waves a hand slightly. "…time travel kinda messed up my powers somehow, I think."

Then he's up to his feet. And zipping back over to her. "Where's the food?" is inquired, then he's going to collect a couple buns for snacking on. Carbs are goooood. "If you have any questions about how the world works Spicecake, don't hesitate to ask." A pause, and his grin falters /just/ a little. "Open book time; relationships aren't exactly my forte either. My folks split shortly after I started school. Uh… not Steve and Wanda, that is. Frank and Mary. The ones I grew up with. They fought and yelled at each other all the time." he explains, eyeing one of the rolls thoughtfully. It's easier to talk about this without looking at the person he's talking to. "So… like I said. I know a lot about what /not/ to do."


Hope bites her lip, working it from side to side. "You want to know a deep, dark secret?" Ooh, he's going to have a mystery. Padding over on her booted feet, she leaves over him and looks down before he's fully up. "You still can. I mean… I feel it in there, sort of. This isn't a precise art and honestly, it's hard with so many people around to be sure, but you can do… that. Kind of." A slim finger pokes him in the chest through his shirt, and getting closer to her requires coming in range of getting his shirt crumpled into a ball in her fingers because she's not letting him go. She merely hauls up the hemline until it's pretty obvious she means to pull it over his head, or leave his abdomen bare and pressed to hers. "Time travel messes everything up. It makes me crazy."

Her tongue flicks over her lower lip. "Like this. You're gonna eat quick, right? Because I don't feel like waiting very much right now. Though you tell me what you want to do right now. To me. Have done to you. Think about it, I'm game for whatever."

As helpful as it would be for her to a serious take on business, he's distracted her and the darkening of her verdant eyes towards a shade of nephrite, the most sylvan of the jades, is volatile and promising. "Sounds like you're a good measure of good and bad. We'll figure ourselves out. But right now? We'll work it out."

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