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The Community Center is makeshift: its a restaurant and office building nextdoor, with the former providing a soup kitchen that feeds people dinner every night, and the latter serving as a shelter and on again off again clinic. In the center, everyone knows Josh, but mostly they call him Elixir. At the moment this evening, Josh is settled into the front area that serves as a foyer, watching people come and go. He's got a bowl with some random item stew from the kitchen that he's nursing. Josh doesn't blend in: he looks just like he did in college, the All American Jock, tall and handsome… only now his skin is gold. Shiny, metallic gold. Even his hair looks like its spun from gold thread.
There are those in the community who know Cassiel. He is drawn to those who are down on their luck, whose sorrow is a heavy burden, and he does what he can to help in what small ways that he can. He tends to work around the community center but not all that often in it unless it's late night. And most of his time is bringing donations and things to the loading docks, work that keeps him out of the bright interior lights. Unfortunately, tonight he came across a man who had fallen in the street and gashed his leg open on some metal. With the man's arm slung around his shoulder, he helps him in to the clinic. The hood is up over his head, pulled around his face so that his features are a bit obscured. He manages to help the man shuffle to a seat, crouching down next to him and checking on his leg before he stands up and asks, "Where do I check this guy in?" His voice is the same, same as it was, and when he straightens the light catches his features and they too at the same. His eyes though, are a wholly unnatural green.
Setting his food aside, Josh is up and heading for the man, "There's no need." He doesn't immediately recognize Daire, but his attention is on the injured party. A golden hand reaches out to rest on the hurt man's shoulder, and suddenly golden light surrounds Josh— its as if the golden skin was evaporating into mist around him. The light flows into his patient, and as several moments pass the wound knits together, leaving the man healthier then he probably was before he fell. Stepping away, Josh looks… tired. And then he blinks at the hooded fellow: "Daire?" No, it can't be.
When Josh moves over, Daire takes a step out of the way to allow the doc to administer to his patient, hands sliding into the pockets of his hoodie. The golden metallic sheen of his skin seems to draw Daire's curiosity. It's only when he moves to heal the man that Daire gets a good look at him, and for a moment he just sort of stares, because whoah. His jaw sort of drops for a moment, and he forgets he's standing in the middle of the lobby of the clinic - that is until someone coming in the door jostles him and makes him take a half step to the side. When Josh straightens up, that's when he studies those familiar features for several long moments. He doesn't even register his own name for a moment, before he suddenly realizes he was being talked to. "I think you might have taken that whole golden boy thing a little too literally," he finally says.
Josh grimaces, looking pained, even though he of course realizes his old friend is joking, "Believe me its not on purpose." he says with a sigh, "It didn't used to…stick. I turned gold for awhile after I healed someone, but then went back to normal. That all changed two weeks ago." He pauses, glancing around, "You hungry? The stew is pretty good tonight…or do you need healing too?" He extends a golden hand: to shake or to offer healing? Could be either. Both.
Daire sees the grimace and the wry wtist of his smile fades just a bit as he says, "Sorry. Too soon?" He nods a bit when Josh explains the recent happenings. "Not gonna lie.. I.. wasn't expecting to run into.. here of all places." He considers for a moment and says, "Stew sounds kinda good, actually." He looks to the extended hand, and then he pulls his own from his pocket. Josh already knows all there is to see about him, at least physiologically, and so he doesn't hesitate to take Josh's in his own and to give it a shake in greeting, drawing him a little closer to pat his shoulder as well, "Shit.. it's been a long time.. and no, I'm alright.. at least in any ways that you could do anything about," he chuckles a little. "Take me to this stew.. tell me what you've been doing?"
After the handshake and the pat, Josh's smile returns— though its still a bit on the weary side. Heading back to his chair, he lifts up his own bowl, then heads along the side hall, "I was often gold because there's plenty to heal, but if I wanted to go out into the normal world, I *could* at least. Mostly. I'm… not used to never blending." Then he takes a long breath, "Well, I went to medical school as I planned. Was accepted to a prestigous surgical internship. I was a star." Of course he was. "I always had this sense: I touched people and just knew about them. I thought it was intuition, not a mutation. Then one day I was doing cpu, healed a guy, turned gold, lost my job, my family, most of my friends." He sounds a little bitter. Now that is new. In the soup kitchen there's a bit of a line still, and though he already has his, Josh leads to the line. "They call me Elixir around here."
Daire falls into step alongside Josh as they walk down the hall. It's strange, perhaps, seeing Josh all golden and out in the open. It makes hima little less self-conscious. He doesn't take down his hood, but at least he walks down the hall, in the light, without trying to find some dark corner to lurk in. There's a little bit of a smirk when Josh says that he was a star, "I'll bet. You always were." He then falls silent to continue to listen. "Like when you figured me out," he says. "I always kind of wondered.." There's genuine empathy in those strange lambent eyes, and he reaches out a hand to give Josh's shoulder a squeeze. "I'm sorry, man. Losing people isn't ever easy, and losing people over .. well.. this.. is worse. It's not like something you chose. It just is." He makes his way into the line and waits patiently, seeming in no particular hurry. "Cassiel, mostly, around here. I've been in the area for a while, but I mostly volunteer for night duty, and dock work.. loading donations, that kind of thing."
Anywhere else in the city, Josh hides as much as anyone. But here? In mutant town in general but this center in particular, he just feels at home. He smiles for the empathy and nods, running a hand through the golden threads that are his hair, "What really annoys me is that I'm a healer. Daire— Cassiel if you prefer— I can do what most doctors couldn't dream of. I can cure cancer. I can regrow limbs with enough energy. I can bring you back if you're dead— if I get to you in a few hours at least." He says this with calm confidence, "Of all the people, *doctors* should have welcomed a healer." But he shrugs, "Anyways. How is your… thing? Under control?"
Daire doesn't particularly feel at home anywhere, ever, even in Mutant Town, but for the moment, standing next to Josh, he's actually less obvious than he usually is, and for some reason that makes him feel a little more comfortable. "Daire's fine," he says, looking over at Josh with a little wry twist of his lips. "It's not like you don't know who I am. If you like Elixir though, I'll use it." He then takes a little step forward in line as it begins to inch closer toward the stew. He listens as Josh talks about all the things that he can do, studying his face as he does so, both brows raising a bit at the mention of being to ressurect people, because that is a little surprising to him, but he nods. Finally he says, "Wouldn't you like to know," with a little eyebrow waggle. At least his sense of humor seems to have survived, and returned from where it had all but vanished in the days before he did. "Yeah, I'm.. I'm okay. I met some folks.. helped me kind of figure shit out, at least.. come to terms with things."
"For awhile… I sorta rejected my human name. I was in a bad space. I've never had to deal with bitterness before. I did some things I'm not proud of, fell in with some people who talked me into some things that I don't think is quite… right anymore. Then I died." Josh then shakes his head, "BUt you've been my friend since college even if we lost touch. Josh's fine. He grins a golden grin at the eyebrow waggle, "Well if you need anything— I'm pretty dirt poor these days but have a couch in a rat's nest that passes as an apartment… and actually, I've run into some new people. A… safe place."
"I don't think there's a person alive who hasn't ever done something they're not proud of," Daire says with a slight rise and fall of his shoulders. "We all fuck up, man. Even the boy who could do no wrong. It's just harder when the expectations are set real high. Longer to fall." He takes another step forward as the line continues to move, leaning over to peer toward the stew. It actually smells good and he takes in a deep breath then lets it out slowly before he looks back over at Josh. "Yeah? A couch in a rat's nest of an apartment sounds better than where I'm currently crashing. If you don't mind the company.. I clean and can kinda cook, mostly. It's more a kind of calculated experimentation which has wildly varying results." Then he glances over and nods, "Yeah? That's a good thing.."
"I used my power to kill someone and cripple someone else." Josh's guilt is clear. He cringes, even. But he can't lie to this guy: he doesn't *have* any old friends anymore. "I thought I was doing the right thing, fighting a war that we didn't start, but.." He then nods, "I won't even be there often, I'm staying at this… sanctuary. A sanctuary for mutants. I'd say more but its secret: I'd have to get you to meet one of the people they use to vet new people to keep security before I say much." Josh hesitates, "But I come back out here every day and stay in the apartment a few times a week or at least I'm planning to. I can't abandon my patients: some people around here *can't* go to a human hospital. For one thing their biology just doesn't work like other peoples."
"I hurt some people, when things got bad. Didn't kill anyone, but I think that was circumstance more than intent at this point. I got into a lot of fights. Didn't hold back sometimes," Daire says. "And I didn't have any illusion that I was doing something for some right reason. I was just.. angry and fucked up, mostly." He looks over toward Josh sidelong and he lightly bumps his shoulder against Josh's. "I think your people should meet my people. I gotta feeling that your people probably are my people." There's a little sidelong grin at that, but he doesn't suah much more because — secret. Finally they get to the front of the line and he says a warm thank you when a bowl of stew is given to him along with a hunk of bread to clean the bowl. And then he's moving on. "Well, if you don't mind someone on the couch. I don't stay.. with the folks that helped me. I tend ot just kind of wing it on my own."
Josh spoons some of his own stew he's been carrying into the mouth, then heads for a chair. The stew is surprisingly high quality: not out of superb ingredients or anything but out of caring. "Hey, I distinctly don't remember any unredeemable roommate habits from college so unless you've started farting uncontrollably…" Josh grins, "All I ask is you replace anything you use." He pauses, eyeing Daire as he settles into a seat, lowering his voice and leaning forward, "Would your people be led by someone name starting with X and have a mansion?" He's being as vague as possible, but he only very recently met up with the X-Men and Xavier's Institute.
Anything not directly from can to pot is probably gourmet cooking in Daire's opinion these days, but it seems that he is more than pleased with the stew when he takes a tasting mouthful on his way toward a seat. He settles down next to Josh and starts to spoon quickly into his mouth and it's about the third spoonful that he realizes what he's doing and forces himself to slow down, taking smaller bites and enjoing it instead of inhaling it. "Uncontrollable brimstone scented farts," Daire says with a flash of a sidelong grin. "I'm kidding," he adds, afterward, just to be clear on that. He nods his head a bit. "There are definitely Xes involved," which might sound like exes if one happneed to be listening in.
Josh laughs about the farts. Its easy and warm— and shiny, but everything he does is shiny these days— a reminder of a prior era. "Grandma Ethel runs the kitchen every night— she's like 80 and a human but her grandson's a mutant— and she never, ever misses a single day. She's here before everyone and leaves after everyone. And she's an amazing cook, primarily for being able to turn what is… let's say not great ingredients, into good food." He nods, fond, and he says softly, "She had arthritis and a number of ailments, and wouldn't let me fix them for her because she knew it tires me out. Let me tell you covertly healing her was a challenge." But then he says more seriously, "Guy with red sunglasses all hours of the day?" Scott, Cyclops, that is. Distinctive sort, stands out.
Daire settles back into his chair with his bowl of stew in front of him cradled in his hands. He takes slower bites as he listens, a little bit of a grin curving the edges of his lips as Josh talks about Grandma Ethel. He looks down into the stew, but he can't hide the smile. He's careful though, with how he eats. Whenever he opens his mouth, those fanglike canines become visible. "Well, she does a damn fine job of it," he agrees as he makes his way through his bowl. Then there's a little sidelong look for Josh and he says, "You're a good egg." He nods a bit and says, "Don't know him personal.. but I've seen the guy."
"Right." Josh nods his head, "So we're established we're both on the list. Why don't you live there? They gave me a room, let me borrow a car to come treat my patients. It's a sanctuary: everyone who isn't one of us is on our side. No hiding." He seems… uncertain. Like he can't quite believe what he's just saying. There's no such thing as a safe place. Still, he nods to Daire, "You don't have to hide in here, either. I mean the Town isn't a sanctuary." Everyone knows of course: the 'Friends of Humanity' massacred 68 people a few months back. "But in here. Your obviousness is mild."
"Didn't feel any more at home than I do anywhere else," Daire says with a small shake of his head. "They helped. It got me stable, but I don't know." He falls silent for a while, just looking into the bowl of stew in front of him bit of bread pressed to the edge of the bowl to keep it out of the way and from getting soggy until he's ready to use it. "They're good folks though. If they gave you a space and you feel safe there, then that's great. I just, never really felt connected there." He nods and says, "Yeah. I mean, yeah. I'm not, at the moment, all that obvious."
"Did you give them a chance or just not really know how to settle? For me, I don't know. I'm not quite sure how to stop being angry. I know my life isn't the worst in the world and that I was privileged, but everything I ever dreamed for and wanted? I don't yet know how to deal with it being gone. And all these people being nice and not demanding anything from me is just a bit weird." On obviousness, Josh nods his head slowly, his lips pursing a moment. "It gets worse." Josh reaches a hand out to offer it to Daire, "If you trust me give me your hand."
"Just because you had it good doesn't mean you can't mourn what you lost," Daire says. "You lost something. That hurts, even if it might not be the same sort of loss as someone else." He never really looked at Josh as his popularity, or as his money, or as his athletic stardom. What he saw, was someone who was willing to be his friend, without any particular demand or expectation. Then he considers the question about himself and he says, "I.. didn't stick around very long. I don't know. Maybe I'm just not really good at giving people a chance." He looks over at Josh and says, "I trust you." He sets his spoon in his bowl and then holds out his hand, putting it on Josh's, despite the fact that the man just said that it gets worse.
The first thing that happens might not actually be supremely noticible: Daire's nerves are just switched off. Its not like an arm goes to sleep, its just there's nothing there but with no pain. And then a golden glow radiates from Josh… and simultaneously two things happen. One: what was gold becomes black. Pure, metallic black, as black as night but with the gleam of polished metal. Black to every thread of hair. Black to his eyes and lips. Second, a cut an inch long and shallow appears on Daire's arm. A few heartbeats later, the wound vanishes as the golden light— still gold despite the black golem his friend became— makes the wound vanish and sensation is returned, with no sense of any pain having ever been there. Josh lets his hand fall away.
And he remains black. His voice is a little cooler then before. More measured. More controlled. "Gold when I heal, black when I hurt. Only the black is so very hard to make go away." He's weary at the thought.
Everyone knows Josh, the golden healer. Fewer people know Josh, the black monster. There's some muttering around: no one gets up and throws something, but Josh in black in this place is still… worth note to those gathered.
At first, Daire watches his arm and there's just, nothing, not even feeling the hand that he holds in his, nothing as the cut opens up on his arm. To be fair, that's a little alarming, and Josh would become instantly aware of the sudden uptick in Daire's heart-rate, the slight shallowness of ihs breathing as he watches his skin split, but feels nothing. That's some eerie shit right there. When Josh goes black, and the metallic tint gives way to the black form, he continues to hold very still, still trusting, and still waiting. When the cut goes away, and that light fades, but Josh remains in his blackened form, Daire doesn't let go, though he can feel his fingers once more. He says, "That.. was very weird to watch." But then he lifts his eyes to Josh's and says, "But it goes away.. unlike the gold? This.. fades? But the gold doesn't.. it just stays?"
Josh ducks his head: he looks like he has a desire to run and hide, like this. The golem. He nods his head slowly, "People don't understand unless they see it. I made sure you wouldn't feel the pain." he says softly, but still his voice is a little distant, "Before he killed me." Pause, "Before that the gold faded in twelve hours to a day. The black.. I have to meditate to make it go away, to be gold again. Before, the gold would then fade, but not anymore. But the black… I feel different in the black." He takes a slow breath, and eats some of the stew, movements mechanical, but he seems to have difficulty meeting the eyes in this form. As what he is. "Since I died I don't seem able to be normal anymore." That All American Guy, popular and light and smart and funny. Gone.
Daire's hand only slips from Josh's when Josh goes to eat some more of the stew, so that he can hold onto the bowl and spoon. But he rests his hand on Josh's shoulder instead, his heart rate slowing back to normal once the cut vanished from sight and his arm was back to normal. "You're still Josh, even in the black," he says. He lifts the hood from his head and he lowers it. His own changes are a little more evident in the light, the black horns that curve up and back before dipping down again and coming up once more into small points on either side of his head evident without the shadow of the fabric. He smiles a little bit, not quite so carefully, letting the fangs show. People are used to him being shadowed. In college only his eyes had looked strange, his canines a little sharp. But those changes have progressed since then. "They say the changes will keep happening, as time goes on." He shrugs his shoulders a little bit, "I can still play at normal right now, though. I won't show you.. what it looks like when I change in here. Somewhere private though. Mostly because I don't have a lot of clothes and I like this shirt." He lets his hand fall then, and goes back to eating his stew slowly, finishing off the bowl. Only when they're both done does he hold his hand out for Josh's to take over to where they are collected for washing.
Josh the golem looks for a long moment at Daire and his quasi-demonic form, and he nods slightly, "I can probably help." he notes, "Minimize change. I don't think I could turn the clock back, but if I study your genome now and regularly restore it…" He shrugs slightly, and he hands the bowl over. Its not that Josh the golem didn't appreciate the contact and bond that promised, just that, in the black? He feels profoundly uncomfortable with his skin. But he rises, and he followed, and though uncomfortable, he refuses to hide. Its easier to refuse thide like this. "But I'm not entirely sure right, that I'm still me. The longer it lasts the less I feel like me: I think the black might be eating my soul." And no one lives with Josh without knowing he's an ardent athiest. Just mentioning souls is weird for him. Its one thing he hid only by just sitestepping religious questions.
Daire takes the bowls back and then he returns to Josh and says, "Then all the more reason to make it cough it back up, and make sure that you stay you." He's more than aware of what it feels like to not be comfortable in his own skin. "Maybe we should go somewhere where you can rest, meditate, get your zen back?" he suggests. "Looks like all the patients are taken care of for tonight. Time to take care of the doc, eh?" He then says, "As for me… maybe. Maybe you can. I wouldn't mind letting you try if you wanted to.. sometime when you've gotten some rest and are feeling up to it, you know? I'm actually.. not going anywhere anymore. Plus, I'll be on your couch, so much easier to find." He grins a little wryly. "Unless I decide to give the mansion another go." The idea seems profoundly uncomfortable however.
Nodding, Josh rises, and leads the way to the small room he uses as a clinic. Its got the most basic of basic of medical supplies— but its not that Josh really needs supplies. There he gets a black hoodie and pulls it over, "I'll show you my place. Leave the key on the coffee table, you can go make a copy tomorrow." He nods his head then as he tucks hands into pockets, pulls the hood over. Especially at night he's just a guy in a hoodie: its hard to see the black metal of his skin. "I've been studying the x-gene in mutants, trying to figure out how it works. I don't know yet, but I …" Suddenly he stops and he says, "This guy I was helping shot me in the head. He blew half my brain out I think by what was on the wall behind me when I woke up two days later. That's what happened: the gold that won't go away. It was when I was dead for two days and then my power brought me back." He sounds like he hasn't actually told anyone that in detail, as he walks along the street. He sounds a little afraid and a little uncertain.
When they go to depart the small clinic, Daire pulls up his own hoodie to cover up his horns once more, put himself back in shadow as they head out into the street. He nods about the key, making mental note. "Sure, I can do that. I gotta go pick up a few things from where I've been crashing tomorrow. I can do it then, bring stuff back. Not a lot, just some clothes, my guitar." He didn't play in college. He's quiet then as they walk, listening as Josh talks about the gene. Though when he stops, Daire stops too, turning to face him. "Jesus," he says, taking the Lord's name in vain, and then "Holy Fuck… I mean, I believed you when you said you died but… getting your brains blown out by someone you were trying to help, that's some fucked up shit." He stands there, still in the street, not moving from where they'd both come to a stop. "I'm glad.. really glad.. that it brought you back. That's.. some heavy shit." He doesn't reach out this time, giving Josh a little space, but at the same time, there's nothing but support there. "You know, the same goes for you.. if there's anything that you need.. if there's anything I can do. I know I kind of bailed out on life there.. but.. I'm not running from things anymore."
Josh smiles, though in the shadows of night beneath the shadows of hood on blackened skin its hard to see: its only the faint light caught on his metallic skin— skin which by the way to touch feels nothing at all metallic, and only as skin— that the expression is visible. "It is not an experience I would reccommend to others. But I am not entirely sure I can die." But his voice is uncnertain on that. He nods, and gestures, and moves forward, "Thanks, man." He nods, "For now hey, its nice having a friend again. Its been awhile. Just… if you hear talk of the Brotherhood? Do me a favor and just politely excuse yourself and walk away. Don't even listen to the sales pitch." The Brotherhood of Mutants is hard not to hear about around here, but mostly gossip.
"Doesn't sound like a barrel of laughs," Daire says in agreement, clearly not envying Josh that experience. When they begin to move forward again, he falls into step once more, alongside, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie as they walk along, gravel and pavement crunching under footsteps. "I'm sorry that I lost my own shit, and didn't manage to get it back together in order to be there when things changed for you." There's genuine regret in his voice for that, though his face is mostly hidden by the oodie as he watches the ground ahead of them as they walk. At the mention of the Brotherhood ne says, "Only heard of them as gossip and rumor, but if it's bad news? Yeah, I'll walk away."
"Hey, man." Josh stops, turns and reaches out to grip Daire's arms, "Look you're not responsible for anything. You had your shit, like you said, I had mine. There was no reason anyone had to expect I was… well, me." He nods his head, "You had no job to save me and help me, its just not what it was. Now though hey, we're here we know eachother, maybe we can make things better. But no regret. Not for that at least. You can regret your shit and I can regret my shit and we can get drunk over it." A flash of a grin in the darkness, but then he becomes more serious and drops his hands, "The Brotherhood is full-on committed to the human-mutant war. I get what they're saying on a certain level, but they're too into it. They fight first and hard and brutal. They don't fight when they have to, they don't fight when they need to save someone. They fight because fighting is all they have on their agenda."
Daire blinks a little when Josh suddenly takes a hold of his arms, coming to an abrupt stop, but he nods and says, "Alright. No regrets for anything other than our own shipt, and then a hearty drowning of those regrets in alcohol. This, I can get behind." There's a little bit of a wry smile at that. But then he listens to what Josh has to say about the Brotherhood and he nods, "That's not mys cene, not at all. I want equality for people, and I want mutants to be safe. War against humanity is not the way to go about it." He nods again and says, "Not going to be a thing." He then begins to continue on their way.
There's a nod: Josh doesn't want to burden an old friend for stuff that isn't his fault, so when Daire seems to accept it he drops his arms, smiles, nods, and continues along. It's not far: a run down little building he leads them into, up a flight of stairs, then a door, into a rundown little apartment. To call it a 'studio' is somewhat generous. There's a bed and a couch and a kitchen and dressers and there's really nothing separating anything from anything. Josh is poor. But there's a bathroom. And things are neat. Josh was always neat. "That's what I want too." he admits. "The Brotherhood swept me up though. The destruction in Sacramento." When the Mutant Town there was burned to the ground, "ANd… stuff. I got lost. But man, I don't want a war."
Daire follows into the run down little building and up the flight of stairs. Looking around the little place, Daire grins and says, "Hey, there are significantly fewer holes in this place than my current spot." He wanders over toward the couch and leans up against the back of it, resting his hands there as he takes a survey of the place, "It's not half bad. I mean… it's tiny but you always were good at taking care of things." He looks over at Josh and says, "Sometimes, you get caught up in things. But you're out now, right? New path, new start, the whole nine yards, right?"
"It's not bad: Ethel, I mentioned? She owns the building. Rent's on the cheap, I can't complain." Josh heads to the fridge, and pulls out a pair of beers, and in a drawer a top remover before he heads for said couch to offer a beer. "I keep things neat. Everything has its place, everything in its place." That's he Golden Boy to the letter, though a bit before he went gold. The last question has Josh pausing, though. "I don't know where I am. Yeah, around here, people know what I am. Around the Institute, … they're learning me out, but I don't know. Its weird." He shrugs then, looking away. "I wouldn't call it the whole nine yards. Six. Seven. Seven and a half. Man you just can't trust people with some things. Sure the people around here love me, I'm the guy the fixes them. I make them whole. They know I need food, coffee, energy after, to keep doing it. So they bring it— I don't charge, they bring. But that's not the same thing as the whole nine yards."
He reaches out to take the beer that's held out to him and lifts it in Josh's direction before tipping it back to take a long swig from the bottle. He then nods his head and says, "I'll help out with the rent. Food, that sort of thing." He then lifts his bottle to take anoter sip while he listens. Daire was always good at listening. He nods and smiles a little bit wryly, "Hey, more than half the yards is pretty good all things considered. Dude, your shit got flipped on its ass. That you're holding it together? That's impressive. And you're doing a good thing here, with the work at the center, helping to take care of people. And they want to do a little to help take care of you? That's all good stuff. All things considered, it could be so, so much worse. It's alright to not really know where you are. Every yard counts."
"Hey, I'm not really complaining." Josh pauses, "Okay, sometimes I am. I admit I miss my Manhatten apartment. I was just starting to make a decent living. BUt, I can't really hold onto all that anymore." He grabs his own beer and goes to settle down on the couch, "So, have you thought of giving the X-folks something of a chance? They talk about going on missions to save people. You could be useful in a pinch, I expect."
Daire pulls off his hoodie now that he's in the house, tugging it over his head and drops it onto the back of the couch. The t-shirt that he has on has a picture of a grumpy little cartoon porcupine on it that says, "I'm prickly on the inside, too." He runs his fingers through his hair, brushing it back out of his eyes a bit before he plops himself down on the couch, balancing his beer on his knee. "I dunno. Maybe. I've been kind of stewing on it for a while now but haven't made any real decisions."
Josh knows the freedom of hoodie: he nods to it, "For me I get the brightest yellow hoodie I can find and some cream colored gloves. If the hood is up and my head forward people don't tend to notice the gold unless they get close." He pauses, blinks, "WAit, you're prickly on the inside too?" But then he takes a swig of his beer, "Well, if you decide to try it out, let me know. I'll have your back."
"Yeah," Daire says, "I could see that." He takes a swig from his beer. "Hot in the summer, though. I spend most of my time sleeping during the day and doing most of my work at night. I've always been kind of a night owl. The question gives him a moment's pause then he glances down at the shirt and smirks. "Not literally. Because that would be even MORE creepy." He seems to think about it and then nods, just slightly. "I'll think about it. Knowing someone there.. that might help." He fiddles a bit with the bottle, turning it around and around on his knee before he lifts it and tips it back again. "You like it there?" he asks, glancing over sidelong.
"I can regulate my body temperature." explains Josh, "And while I can heal if someone kicks the shit out of me, that still requires the shit getting kicked out of me and I'm not at all a fan." Then he shakes his head, his expression going tense, pensive, "I have a hard time believing it's real. Sanctuary. People who just go out and protect people. I don't know if I have been there long enough to like it, but… Scott's cool. I think I trust his intentions. He's practical but serious. He's the one that brought me there. If others are like that— practical— and not getting all swept up into some weird cult or anything. I think I'm going to give it a chance."
"Yeah, I can't do that," Daire says with a bit of a wry grin, "So I just end up really fucking hot." He tips back the reainder of the bottle of beer and then gets up to take it back into the kitchen and set it wherever it seems it ought to go before he wanders back out toward the couch and plops himself back down on it, stretching his legs out in front of him and slumping into it a little bit. "I dunno what I think about it. I think that they did me a solid. I kind of think that I owe it to them to trust them enough, for that at least, to give'm a chance. But the longer I stay out and on my won, the more it gets easier to just keep staying out and on my own."
"Hey, being shiny has to have an upside." Josh chuckles softly, and he nods, "I can stay up at all hours but I wake up an hour before dawn and sleep as light as can be. Surgical internships are utter hell, and the residency program is only moderately better. But having to go from asleep to life threatening emergency in thirty seconds is a life skill." He hesitates, regarding Daire for a long moment, "And you volunteer at the Center, and that's cool, but do you put your power to any use? I don't mean to judge. But we have these abilities. I don't believe in any higher power, but I do believe in evolution. Either they are advantageous to our survival or they are not. We'll find out in a generation or three, but until then… we can't know if we don't use them."
Daire nods as he listens, grinning a little wryly and says, "Yeah, I can imagine that's a bit of a challenge." He sees that hesitation and for a moment there's a slight flicker, a dampening of his smile that turns a little toward cautious curiosity, as though not sure exactly what Josh is going to say next. When Josh asks about the use of his power he says, "I do great gargoyle impressions." Then a little more seriously he says, "I keep an eye on some of the buildings in the neighborhood. Something happens that I think I need to step into.. then I step into it. I'm not really good at kids parties or anything, but I can beat the shit out of a stalker, or come out of a gang fight less beat up than the next guy." He looks sidelong over at Josh. "I can't heal anybody. I'm not real good at making things better with what I become. So I try to do that by volunteering my time."
"But part of protecting people is being able to fight. I can't." Josh shrugs, "You can't heal anyone, no, but you could give me cover: you could get me to the person who needs the help and watch my back while I do what I do— and to be honest, I've a lot of power but it has a cost. Its happened more then once that I healed someone then passed out. Sometimes I can hold it off and get into an alley, or at the Center I have a room set aside that locks from the inside. Depending on what I have to do I might be out for days. That happens in the middle of a fight, I'm completely helpless. Not everyone is the healer, Daire. There's plenty of room for someone who can fight— and protect those who can't."
Daire lets his head rest back against the back of the couch as he stares up at the ceiling, careful not to tip too far back and puncture the upholstery as that just wouldn't be a good way to start things off. He folds his hands on his stomach as he listens, and then tilts his head a bit to look over at Josh after a bit, looking thoughtful. "I could help with that sort of thing. I'm.. tougher, harder to hurt, hit harder.. I could be good at keeping people away from you while you heal other folks." That seems to appeal to him, the idea of defending, helping through protecting. "And I can fly.. I can carry people, if they're not too big, out of an area if I need to. I could carry you if you passed out, to somewhere safe."
"Hey, no pressure from me." Josh gestures around, smiling his golden smile, "It's not a requirement for you sticking around here in this fabulous abode of mine." His smile turns into a grin, "But I don't especially know them very well." He gestures to Daire, "I do know I can trust you to have my back. I figure maybe it's an idea, if we give them a chance together? And have eachother's back. That way there's at least one person you really know that's there in the mess of whatever it is. And yeah." He offer his beer over to toast, "I think you'd make a solid guy in a pinch when defense is needed."
"I didn't think you were pressuring," Daire says with a shake of his head, getting up and going to nab another beer from the fridge, having finished his first one. He makes his way back and settles down, cracking it open. He looks around and says, "I dunno, man.. kind of reminds me of our old dorm room, with slightly less furniture and slightly more privacy." At least from all the other rooms, "Uless the walls are as paper thin here as they were there." He smirks just a bit and then he says, "Let's do it." He pauses a moment and then he says, "I'm serious. Not because I think you're pressuring me. Not in some kind of weird non-rent payment for crashing here. But.. yeah. That way we can both give it a shot, see if it's too good to be true or not, and I'd rather do it with somebody I trust than go it alone. Then, if shit hits the fan, we can always get each other out of it." He tips his beer and clinks the bottle against Josh's, toasting. Then he takes a long drink from it.
"The nice lady on the other side of that wall…" Josh points, "Is nearly deaf. The other walls are street." He grins, "So its as private as cheap as hell can get you." He doesn't focus on the thinness of walls back there and what was obvious from the thinness of the walls. But he does nod, "It's good to team up." He takes a swig after the clink, "Pair up. Worst case scenario if they go creepy cult thing, I'll put them to sleep and you can fly us out of there. It's a plan."
Daire glances toward the one wall, and then to the others that are on the street and nods his head, "Guess that works." He then chuckles and takes another swig from his beer. He seems to have relaxed considerably from his first appearance within the clinic, shying away from the light. Now he seems, mostly comfortable. "Worst case scenario," he agrees. "We run like hell." There's a bit of a chuckle then and he says, "Sounds like a plan to me." He nods his head once, and then once again, obviously finalizing that plan in his head. "You gotta corner somewhere I can put my stuff when I go get it tomorrow?"
"Plan." Josh agrees, nodding his head, and then he hesitates, and looks around. Rising up he heads to the closet, "For now this: we can get you a dresser or something. Heck you can sleep in the bedroom when I'm not here— there's clean sheets and everything." But the closet is open, and Josh starts piling some stuff from the rack onto his arm. Mostly its hoodies: he has a whole collection of yellow hoodies.
Daire pulls himself up off the couch and looks over at the closet, nodding, "Don't need a lot of space. I've got one bag of stuff, and then my guitar case. That's about it." He observes the collection of yellow hoodies and grins a bit. "Quite the collection you got going there. I think you mised one particular shade of canary." He leans up against the wall, arms folded in front of him as he watches. He glances toward the bedroom and nods, "Okay." Then he says "You don't need to do that now. It's all good. As long as I know where I can squeeze in, I'm good."