Interim - Ep 3. Sleepless

[z-Avalon Wilson]

Lilly’s truck left, taking the last of the Fellowship at the barn home. Lona stood next to Clara, the car between them. “When will you need me to come back?” Clara asked, tilting her head when Lona hesitated.

“I’m going to ask Jase if I can stay here tonight,” Lona said softly, turning to glance at the lengthening shadows over the farm. “I don’t want to be at home.”

“Why?” Clara asked.

“Mom.” That single word brought understanding to her near-sister’s face.

A second later Clara frowned again and said, “But she’s not there.”

“Now,” Lona said, feeling exhaustion at the thought of being around her mother today. It was literally the last thing she could handle right now. If Jase wasn’t okay with her being here overnight, she’d sleep in a damned ditch if that meant there was zero chance to avoid her mother until tomorrow evening.

Clara sighed and nodded. “Fair point, and she’ll be all fainting southern belle once she does get home.”

“I prefer fainting goat,” Lona muttered.

Clara snorted in amusement, grinning at the short-haired girl. “More accurate, too. Want me to bring you some clean clothes tomorrow morning?”

“No, I planned for this when I left the house,” Lona said, jerking a thumb toward the house. “My backpack has everything I need. ‘Cept a pillow, but I think I can scrounge something up here.”

“Alright,” Clara said, pulling Lona into a quick hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the self-defense stuff with Lilly, yes?”

“Yes.” Lona smiled ruefully. “I’m both looking forward to it and dreading it. Night, and I’ll call you if I need something, okay?” 

Clara nodded, adding, “I’ll leave the ringer on, just in case. Have fun.”

Lona waved before she went into the house, where Jase was putting up the chili he’d made earlier. “So, before we start hanging out, I wanted to ask if I can stay the night, too. Mom’s on mega-crazy mode and I can’t even with her. Is that okay?”

[Bannon]

He paused, cocking his head fractionally to one side before glancing over at her.  Lona was getting better at reading Jason's mannerisms and was pretty sure this was 'Micro-expression No. 32: Curious Surprise'.  She briefly wondered what expression Liam Day had seen - but shut down that train of thought before it even got out of the rolling stock yard.

"Of course it is." he smiled a little. "There's a spare bedroom upstairs. Though there's not much to do here other than read and listen to music." He put the large tupperware container of chili in the fridge, then turned to face her, curiousity still in his pale eyes. "What's your mother's damage, anyway? You get attacked and she goes to the hospital under sedation?"

Lona opened her mouth, expression angry, then stopped and her expression softened into pain. "I don't know, honestly. My therapist says she's not dealing with her grief correctly. All I know is that everything I do is about her right now -- her pain, her ego, her anger." Lona dropped into a chair and sighed. "So I really have too much shit to deal with her shit right now, too. I just won't sleep tonight unless I know I'm not going to have to deal with her."

Jason considered her for a long moment, his attitude one of study, then nodded. "I do not know how to deal with my father's grief either." he stated quietly. "I tried pouring away all his drink once. He did not get angry or hit me, he just cried. And then went and bought more the next day." He turned and took down a bottle from a shelf, along with two glasses.

"At least there is usually some good bourbon around." he said with another one of those wry smiles, holding up the glasses. "Would you like a drink?"

"Hells, yes." Lona chuckled. "It's funny, Gerault also offered me alcohol the night of the fair. Are you going to hug me while I cry and tell me I have to go to therapy, too?"

"Is there therapy for kids who know monsters exist, and fight them?" He responded with a laugh gleaming in his eyes as he sat down at the kitchen table beside her and poured them both a generous measure before sliding a glass in front of Lona and taking one for himself. "I think the best we can manage is group therapy so we at least understand and appreciate each other, though I have to say I find that to be a hard and painful process." He winked, offering his own glass in a toast.

"That said, if you feel the need for someone to hug you while you cry, that bit is easy and not so terrible for me."

"Right." Lona raised her glass in a mirror of his and took a sip of the bourbon, nodding appreciatively at the flavor. "You're right, your dad does have good bourbon. I mean, it's the shittiest of silver linings, I guess.  So which is the hard and painful part - understanding the group or appreciating us?" There was a twinkle in her eye that suggested she was teasing him -- if he was reading her right.

"I'd say...  A lot of column A, little bit of column B.  Except sometimes the other way around."  Jase deadpanned, causing Lona to be glad she hadn't taken another sip of bourbon as she snickered.  He took a swallow of the bourbon, relaxing a little, then stood and gestured for her to follow him through to the lounge.  It was different in here from how she remembered back when this had been the Wilson Farm.  It was more of a reading room than a family room for noisy kids to sit in front of the TV, though there was a TV, she noticed.  The easy chair and the couch were of different make, but still so similar to those she remembered - but there the differences ended.

There had not been this many books in the Wilson lounge.  Shelves had been installed, bookcases moved in, reading lamps set over the seats and the beanbag in one corner by the picture window.  Cheap paperbacks, collected periodicals, anthologies of poetry in different languages and alongside them a copy of Grays Anatomy, all the way up to what looked like an incredibly old set of Encyclopedias - and everything had the carefully dog-eared look of being read, absorbed, even loved.  This wasn't a sterile show-library for the pretentious, everything behind glass cases in perfect symmetrical order - it lived.  It was organised, to be sure, but along more pragmatic lines, and some books had been left out, a small pile next to the beanbag by the window.

"You read all of these?"  Lona asked, smiling slightly as she took it in whilst sitting on the couch.  Jase plopped down beside her, his green eyes studying the shelves as he nodded, taking another sip from his glass.

"These, and those in other rooms.  I switch them out now and then, trade books at second hand stores or donate them to libraries if I don't want them anymore.  Some I keep just because I like re-reading them."  He smiled then, a gentle sort of expression as he looked at the room.  "Feel free to browse if you want to."  he said with a glance at Lona, who smiled back at him with a nod as she settled in, drawing her legs up under her.  They sat in comfortable silence for a short while, then Jase spoke.

"I'm curious."  Lona looked to see his eyes focused on her in that way he had, though it didn't seem quite as unsettling right now.  "I mean, I was curious when you asked to hang out on Friday morning - and given everything that's happened, I'm even more curious why you still want to hang out with me."  He smiled, appearing to mull that over for a heartbeat, then shrugged.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked directly as he took another sip of bourbon.

[z-Avalon Wilson]

Lona smiled. “Jase, you just asked us for help moderating your worst impulses, or at least the ones that will get you into the most trouble. You have some b--, no that’s the wrong word. You have instincts that tell you to do things that are negative to our world. That is who you are, but to live in our world, you have to tame those instincts, right? Like… moving to another country,” she said, relieved that she’d been able to come up with an analogy that didn’t compare Jase to an animal. “New customs, new language, new way of life. The difference is that you didn’t have the tools to learn those easily. And if I stopped associating with you because you acted on those instincts but want help, I’d be a shitty friend. Now, if you didn’t see that you had a problem, I’d not be so willing. But you’re a friend, you want help.

“And I dunno, what do you want to talk about?” Lona asked, taking a sip of her drink. “The game? Sean doesn’t really talk about the theory of the game at the game, not like they do on Youtube.”

Jase blinked at her.

That suggestion crashed and burned. “Or we can watch a movie on my phone, share songs. Read, even, I guess.” He still didn’t seem to have a response to her, so Lona pitched the ball back to him. “What do you want to do?”

“You mean,” Jase said with dawning comprehension, “when you said you wanted to hang out, you wanted to hang out?”

“Yeah.” Lona gave him a confused smile. “What did you think I meant?” Please don’t say sex, I’m not sure I can handle that after yesterday.

"Well, if I'd have said it I'd have meant just that,” Jase said, recovering his equilibrium. “But other than Sean and the Jauntsens, nobody has ever just wanted to hang out without wanting to talk to me about something important to them.” 

Lona felt a pang of sympathy and guilt -- after all, she’d been avoiding him socially, too. “Wow, that blows. Really?” 

“It shouldn't be that surprising.  I'm not…” He paused as he mulled over the right word.  “.. nice.”

Lona shrugged. “No, you're not. But you're not cruel, outside of those impulses we’ve talked about, and that is the important thing. You don't layer things in social niceties, but you aren't a raging dickhole like some people can be. I mean, I’d rather be here than with my mom, so that should tell you something.”

“Thank you for seeing that.” He sank a little deeper into the couch and some of the tension left his eyes.  “I've never really discussed music much, but I like your performances. It's even inspired me to learn an instrument or two. I just haven't gotten around to that yet.”

"I know the guitar, Clara the piano, but once you can read sheet music and understand the notes, it's just a matter of learning to figure out how to make the instrument make that note." She grinned excitedly, her bourbon forgotten. "What instrument are you thinking about learning?"

"Piano to start - I like classical piano pieces as well as some blues.  And then... I'm not sure. I'm tempted by the violin. Very raw and emotional, or by turns precise and ordered." He grinned wryly.   "Though it is a terrible cliche."

She laughed. "The worst cliche, yes. Violin is rough." Tilting her head, she considered for a moment. "I've been meaning to expand into other instruments myself, and YouTube has a lot of videos. Chloe at the music store offers lessons, if you need personal tutoring.” Though, maybe I need to finally join the Band. I could influence joy in a lot of kids there.

"Perhaps not violin.  I don't want to become trite."  He seemed much relaxed now, to the point of playfulness in the quirk of his smile, and Lona smiled to see this side of him.  "And if you recommend Chloe, then I'll go to her for lessons. I more or less taught myself most of what I know, but perhaps this would speed up the process."

She considered him. "Have you ever assessed if you learn better with visual instruction, hands on, or one-on-one personal instruction?"

"A combination of visual and kinetic seems to be my strongest learning methods.  I watch, absorb, memorize then replicate, and in that replication I gain understanding.  Though my father's friend, Hank - he's taught me some woodcraft and other skills one-on-one, and I have no trouble there either."  He pondered for a moment then gave her a warmly amused smile. "I think the short answer to your question would be 'All the above'.  And what about you?"

"Hands on, though someone doing one-on-one, talking me through it, seems to do the job. With just watching on YouTube, I often have to watch the videos over and over, or watch several, to get it." She smirked at him. "Some of us don't have perfect recall, however."

"True.  Which makes the achievement more impressive." He smiled back, raising an imaginary glass to toast her. "So what is your favorite music -currently I mean? I know I listen to different things at different levels of intensity as the days go by - I'm assuming it's that way for most people?"  His eyes studied her face intently, though still warmed by his smile, giving her the distinct impression that he was committing this whole exchange to memory as well.

"You make me feel like there's going to be a test later," Lona laughed. "I don't think I've been subject to your full intensity before. Anyway, music... I like country songs, especially country rock like Runaway Jane, but I like alternative artists, too. My current fav is The Reklaws. It's a duet that compliments each other well and they toe the line between rock and country in a way that I really like.  Something that most people don't know about me is that I like instrumental -- Spanish guitar, orchestral, anything where the music is allowed to express feelings and inspire without lyrics to bound it."

He nodded, enthusiasm causing the flecks of color in his eyes to sparkle as he leaned into the conversation.  "Yes, very much the same with me. Lyrics can be powerful, like poetry, but unfettered musical emotion is my taste as well.  I'm currently exploring Nordic 'folk-metal'- bands like Danheim or Heilung, though I think it only gets the metal tag because of the primitive aspects.  Lots of drums and horns, mixed with synths, guitar... all sorts. And tonal singing, the voice itself raising hackles and becoming a powerful instrument."

Lona perks up. "I've never heard of that!" she says, pulling out her phone and opening YouTube. "How do you spell them again?"

He smiled, spelling Danheim out for her and leaning over to peek as she searched.

"Do you mind if I listen to one of them?" she asked as she found Danheim, her finger over the link. "Or is this the kind of music that needs to be heard with real speakers instead of on a cell phone?"

"The phone should give you an idea.  The best effect is with decent earphones or speakers, of course.  Like everything." he nodded for her to go ahead

Lona started Ulfhednar, closing her eyes and resting her head on the couch. Though there were images on the video, she was unaware, lost in the music. Her lips parted as soon as the first drumbeat resounded through the speakers. Soon, she started to move her head with the rhythm of the drums, eyes still closed.

He watched her reactions, his own eyes half-closing as he listened along, not saying anything and waiting patiently as he remembered his first time listening to the track.

When it finished, she exhaled and murmured, "Yeah, they're going on the list. See, this is why I love to talk music with people. You learn so much."

He nodded slowly, then tilted his head to one side and gave her a crooked grin.  "This is the first time I've talked music with anyone. Well, other than Sean asking me what I think of the soundtrack choices for his game.  But that doesn't count."

She frowned and crossed her arms, apparently pouting. He caught the impish glint in her eyes as she muttered, "He's never asked my opinion about music." He raised an eyebrow at her and she broke her moue, laughing. "I'll record something for him to use, someday. Listening to this stuff makes me want a drum of my own."

He chuckled at her pout, a quiet but warm sound of amusement.  "I'm always around his loft mooching internet, so he was guaranteed a 'hmm' or 'huh' when he consulted me.  Or even a nod. That's when he knew he'd struck gold." His eyes danced with impish mirth. "But I think you two would work well together, especially for his video game projects when he needs music."

"I'd do it to help a friend and for the credit." She smiled as her cheeks reddened a little. "The stuff Devin bought me has given me the chance to make some quality videos, but I still need exposure to be noticed. I should talk to him."

[Bannon]

The two of them relaxed, sharing a few more music pieces back and forth as the sun slipped to the horizon until Lona's phone started to flash it's battery indicator and they paused to plug the charger in.  Snacks were obtained as the TV played some old movie on one of the satellite dish channels, though both of them had seen it a dozen times and so instead were idly conversing, having settled into a rhythm of back and forth.  Lona had been nervous at first about asking the questions she wanted to ask, but realised quickly that Jason, whether he chose to answer or not, was not easily offended at all.  In addition to having little problem asking equally sensitive questions...

"Okay, so 'love'."  Lona chewed on a strip of deer jerky.  "Do you feel love?"

"Define it."  Jason replied with a sly smile, his eyes on the TV.  She elbowed his arm, snerking.

"Don't be a smartass.  I mean... Do you love?  Can you love?"

"I wasn't being a smartass."  he rubbed his arm, nudging her back.  "I'll never 'fall in love', go head over heels for someone due to brain chemistry eroding my judgement.  I feel lust - desire if you prefer.  But love is a conscious thing for me - I make an intellectual choice on who I love, who I care for, who I befriend.  Regular neurochemical 'bonding' doesn't take place."  He glanced at her.

"Wow."  Lona studied him as she mulled that over.  "So... You like me because you 'choose' to like me?  Not because your hormones are telling you to.  Hmm."  She chewed thoughtfully.  "That would make the world a simpler place.  Okay, your turn."

"Best kiss you've ever had."  Jason's lips curled in a grin.  "To date."

"Oh fuck off."  Lona went red, staring fixedly at the TV screen.  "Nope.  We are not going there."

"Quid pro quo, remember?"  He prodded.

"_Devin."  she muttered, feeling her face heat up.

"Sorry, didn't catch-"

"I said DEVIN!" she almost yelled, hiding her face in her hands.  She was aware Jase was snickering.  "You're the devil, you know that?"  she complained as she peeked out over her hands at him.  "And don't ask me what it was like, Mr Never Been Kissed - Probably."  She narrowed her eyes at him.  "My turn - your best kiss to date.  And if you've not had one, I get another question."

"Clara." he replied without hesitating.  Lona froze, staring at him as he lazily turned pale green eyes her way.  "I was curious, so I stole a kiss.  It shocked her about as much as it seems to have shocked you."  He smiled slightly.

"When..?"

"This morning.  We were talking, and I felt the impulse, so decided to see what it was like."  He gave her a sly smile.  "And I'm not telling you what it was like either."

"I bet she freaked the fuck out."  Lona mused, trying to imagine uptight Clara being kissed by Jase.  Of course, that turned her mind to imagining what it would be like to kiss Jase, so she steered hard-to-port away from those reefs, glancing into her bourbon glass.  "This is really good - but I'm not getting a buzz at all." she complained.  "My 'Shine' is nifty, but not being able to get a buzz on? That sucks."

"You ever tried turning it off?"  Jase asked curiously, half-turning on the couch and bringing one leg up as he faced her.  

"Turning it off?"  Lona blinked, then thought.

"Devin can feel points in space, but he can choose to ignore those in order to focus on where he is right now.  I can feel every book in this room, but likewise can choose not to.  The Shine doesn't seem to be completely involuntary, at least once we've got to grips with it."  He paused.  "Insert pun about Charlie's manifestation here."  he added with a playful glint in his eye, before turning serious.  "I imagine it's similar to a meditative exercise.  Find the part of your Shine that seems autonomic and turn it off."