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You can live on anything that isn't nothing. Even boiled dirt, such as the wisdom of O-Lan. "Maybe."

And wear out that welcome as surely as exposure to poison ivy wears out immunity. "I haven't been to a movie in a long while. They're expensive. Too much for me, I'm afraid. Apples are enough of an expense. I'd be happy to work up to it though. As it is right now, I'd probably fall asleep partway through. Sitting still more than an hour at a time lately usually has had somnolent results. Always sleepy, never really asleep for long. "

And nothing safe. What am I doing here? Putting at risk one of the last connections I have, is what. Is a glass of water worth that? A warm up? A 7-11 provides that. Oh, Oddy. "You don't have company often? But you often have leftovers from family? Do you often go to see them in the evenings then?"

"Apples are high in sugar and pectin, which helps in curbing appetite. And they're cheap, plentiful, and available all year round. They don't require cooking or refrigeration. I do take vitamin supplements every day. I eat fish when I can for extra protein. Coffee is free for faculty, thankfully, at the office. Caffeine increases metabolism, but I need to stay awake anyway. "
"You know, wasn't there that actor that lost 60 pounds in four months? Yes...Christian Bale. For the Machinist. I think he was around 110 lbs for the role. " He wasn't sure if that made it sound more or less reasonable. Or if it made it seem more like a calculated choice and less like a necessity just to survive in the current lack of any of the Black Watch hopes to set up ways to avoid the exact same for other senshi and knights. And if there was a help system set up, would I make use of it? The thought of it feels strange as an Executor. At least I'm experienced with it.

He looked over at the door, moving more out of the kitchen and towards the general space to look into middle distance at the colorful posters and decor. As though the mention of an authoritative parent, or at least protective mother bear, was a spectre that may require rapid retreat. Someone from a large, warm family is not likely to want me anywhere near their son. Not least of which because there's no promise of making grandchildren on me. "Do you have anyone you're seeing, Odysseus? "

The answer was glib enough, and phrasing dismissive in its unconcern. I wonder if he's Ace. Romance is a troublesome priority to keep. Trust most of all.

Quenton let the matter, apparently intrusive or uninteresting, go at the man's answer. His glass of water was left to the nearest counter without much thought. The excuse of the sauce was well, both for conversational distance and for staying moving. As the warmth of the place, not outside and not in wind, seeped in through skin and bone the world felt slower and heavier. Even grabbing a paper towel and crouching down to hands and knees to clean it, the ugly linoleum of Oddy's kitchen was looking and feeling inviting. The eye-scorching, tasteless carpet of the living room with the comfortable chute between coffee table and front of couch looked like utopia. The coffee table looked war-scarred enough from previous life in other homes that Oddy could easily put feet on it with no worry of hurting it. Oddy could sit on the couch and do whatever and pay no mind to a roll hidden on the floor taking up the footspace. Safe. Not accessible or visible behind a table and in front of a couch.

Quenton blinked slowly, pulling back from walking dreams that were getting too vivid, and sought trash bin from hands and knees for the sauced towelette. It was classically stowed under the sink. Task done, he stayed on the floor, leaning back against the cabinetry. I should get back up. Make conversation like a usual house guest. Or go. Something. Something not sitting on duff, staring at ugly flooring and listening to the sounds of someone else fussing in a kitchen.

He'd lost time. Not actually sleeping yet, but certainly a thousand miles away and staring into the middle distance. Oddy was near and speaking, and he didn't recall a moment of how the man had gotten there or when the kitchen sounds had gone from cooking and reheating to plating. Did I miss conversation? Did he ask anything? other than now...

"Ah-" He blinked vapidly for a moment, wide-eyed at Oddy and the plate as awareness tried to martial from brain to body. "I'm...sorry. I think I lost the last ten or fifteen minutes. Not very sociable...."

"No. As it is is fine." Protesting was moot with plates and quantities both set. It would be rude as well, insulting the hospitality. Hands finally engaged to lift under and accept the plate, and look for a kitchen table, eating nook or if food happened in some other place. Or if Oddy was going to join him in an impromptu floor picnic. "Thank you for this. Inviting me in for dinner."

"Are your hours usually theater hours, then? Noon to closing after last reel finishes midnight-ish?"

Relax and eat....surely these are also very simple things to do. But if I relax, I'm likely to fall asleep right here on his floor. I think I was two-sheets towards that as it was. He's eaten at a restaurant with me before. We talked mostly about work then, too. I expect he's got suspicions of me and my relationship to relaxing. Since the other man also elected to sit on the floor, Quenton made no mention of pillows, beanbags nor made any move for the offered couch. He shifted his own legs down into a mirrored cross-legged, plate supported in order to eat. The process was concentrated and deliberate, so as to tip, spill, and trip nothing. With a large family, maybe pastas are a common dish.

"It's excellent, " he offered up after a bite. The complement could be on virtue of the reassembly, the reheating, or the original chef. It didn't really matter. "It must be a challenge to stay trim."

Though it doesn't sound like a challenge that includes using the magic born in him to run it off. The dreams....he was not much in uniform either. 'Everything else', feels vague and far away. What keeps Eridanus from using his strength and speed to the active benefit of others, rather than staying always a sideline. Little more than a regular man. Even in the last. I don't remember seeing you in the flames. I wonder if he made it out to whatever fate met the others in the retreat. Those hours are mostly heat, fever and ...broken sorrow.

Arguing over it, over the very bounty of a plate of food and a warm floor, felt beyond the pale. Normally it wouldn't be. Normally there wouldn't be anything holding a correction or suggestion of action and better purpose. Like Alois...how hard the battle is for hope at the very last...what is the change then? You could argue with Odysseus here. But is it really better for him to fight? Wasn't that some of the hope for the Black Watch, to give some useful purpose to allow those who cannot bring themselves to a war to at least help the rest in some meaningful way? Or to encourage them to rediscovering purpose and drive in their homeworlds, or research and archeology. Or science and imagination with the Mauvians and technology?

Talking about senshi business at all just seems like a mistake anymore with those who won't take part of their own volition. So let it be. If neither war nor watch appeals to him, then let him be just a man. He's offered much to let such a shade into that bastion as it is. 'Relax'...but there is no room to, is there, with so few hands beside on the ropes. "Long hours, but you would grow used to it. Do you enjoy it?"

Do you resent being a senshi? Or just not think of it...? I said once, 'I don't expect. I find safer ground having no expectations of others. No disappointment comes when they meet or fail to meet them. What you feel you want to offer I would be grateful for, but I can't 'expect' or be entitled to.' That is no less true a lesson here, is it, Thraen? You cannot expect others to do as you do, prioritizing the use of the power given them to patrols, research and combat. Thay have other lives. Other goals. Expecting from others received you nothing. Expecting nothing has at least received dinner and a beautiful smile for company.

Eating slowly kept a body from feeling ill or overloading the diminished capacity of a stomach, but it also left room to eat too little. The hunger mechanism could turn off and the body feel full before it should fifteen minutes in. It was a game he'd not had to play before, being careful to never starve in his budgeting each month in money, and usually around others enough to be able to take their cues of eating times to stay on semi-regular schedule.

Somewhere, everything had fallen apart.
You tell yourself 'somewhere'. Willful avoidance.

He listened and took in slow circles of pasta and protein. That doesn't sound a definite yes or no. "It sounds more like its just something that happened and continues to happen. Part obligation and part nothing else grabbing your attention enough. Do you have a passion for anything? Something you could pursue and do with gladness? That wasn't obligation or just something to take up time? Punching out monsters just sounds another passionless obligation, or fantasy of comics that hasn't caught you any more than watching The Avengers did for motivation. "

Aimless and without personal drive to anything in particular. Just living. Imagine just living, without drive...I'd be terrible at it. Please sit nearer. I'm cold. Is this fear or lonliness. Where is Faust....God's breath he just knows and comes near...
I cannot ask. I will not bend to my own weaknesses. I will overmaster them.

"You don't have to be 'super good' at something for it to be a passion and an enjoyable pursuit. Even as a hobby. " Blessed be- The other moved close, whatever the reason or impetus. Quenton shifted without comment, slightly closer and enough so that knee touched to knee. It may have been stupid, but even that much contact quelled the feeling like the floor was about to open into a pit. Or worse.

"There's nothing wrong with being 'Robin'. We are not all commanders. We are not all even soldiers or scholars, tinkers or tailors. Maybe it will take you ten years to find your Ithaca." But will we have ten years? How old did the years paint over in the lies of dreams? Already well and ready lies- he sleeps and is dead beyond finding. Will walls tumble away until I must look for you behind screens of tattered canvas and corrugated metal? I wonder if you enjoy when I find you. Or is it just the strange obligation of a seeing a stray on the street. Pity...? Obligation?

"I hope it will not take so long, but it will be what it must. However you find your happiness, Odysseus. Or...maybe it is the search, rather than some final destination, that will bring you happiness. Some stones gather no moss."

Ithaca meaning as I meant it would be ultimate happiness, a final home and peace within it. There was a time that would have been a apartment somewhere walking distance from both a well stocked library and a set of museums, with a balcony large enough to have a garden of pots and a chaise to lay on. And some cats. "Carpet with carpet padding under it instead of linoleum."

It was a little tongue in cheek, and then again it wasn't. Dark humor, and Quenton wasn't smiling or laughing as usual despite finding it funny. That is a reasonable, achievable happiness, isn't it? Best to work to keep the world from getting so dark that Odysseus starts finding such things in his humor repertoire.

The pause in Oddy's eating drew a pause in Quenton's own- a pause that was lengthening with the conversation, but moreso in the sculptor's eyes half-masting in relaxation. He could feel his feet and hands, finally, the ambient homewarmth finally sinking in.

He thought he blinked, closed his eyes for only a moment. He thought Oddy still spoke, conversation carrying on, and supposedly opened his eyes again to return to it. But that was vivid dream in those half-seconds of body trying to force sleep and rest in safety.