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Ever knocked around seven, close enough to dinner that it might be annoying -- but he hadn't thought about that, not really. He'd come as soon as he was presentable, or as much as he ever was, dressed in fresh clothes instead of yesterday's, with the pale, wet mess of his hair plastered down against his head and his cheeks. Small favors that he'd found somewhere with water that wasn't the color of rust, that didn't match the ominous stains he was trying to get off of his walls, his ceiling, his floor.

He knocked, and then he hesitated, looking down the hall again and considering slipping away -- after all, he hadn't said much publicly on twitter, but he'd read. Combined with a private conversation or two, he was rethinking the intelligence of coming around this particular door --

By the time it opened, he'd be two steps away again, and he'd freeze, blinking back over his shoulder. Paste on a smile, too wide and patently false, and raise both eyebrows.

Presentable apparently didn't mean much around here -- although, as Ever turn in place to blink back at the man who opened the door, it didn't seem he really minded. Rep shirtless was definitely more intimidating and impressive than Ever fully clothed, in battered plaid pants and a shirt so thin it was almost transparent, sticking against a still-damp side. Ever had two inches height on the man, but probably weighed half as much. If that.

So he paused. Took in the scars, blinking slowly, and then forced himself to close his mouth. It was a moment before his eyes lifted to meet Rep's and, self-conscious, he pushed hair up off his forehead.

"Uh. Are you 'At Sign Noa Ginger'?" The face matched, he thought. "With the power washer?"

Right now, mostly, Ever seemed flustered, distracted -- his eyes dipping down, again, as Rep folded his arms over his chest. It meant the missing n****e vanished behind a broad arm, and Ever had to reach up and swipe a hand across his eyes in his attempt to focus. A struggle, right about now.

"...it's a mess. Medieval torture devices and no lights and a busted tap. I can deal with most of it, I've slept in worse, but..." If he didn't look, it was easier to put his thoughts together. He shook his head, hand still across his face, and considered his words.

"Amory's telling me stories about the stains, and since he seems impossible to shut up, it seems like my only option's to get rid of his nightmare fodder."

Finally, he looked up, blinking at Rep's face. "Thus, the power washer. Any chance of today? I was told I can't sleep in the common room again."

Blag was all Ever could think as Rep slipped inside, rubbing at his cheek again and turning in place to stare down the hallway again. Counting in his mind, rolling in his shoulders, coat maybe just a bit too hot -- overwhelmed, and only running on a couple hours of sleep, and this probably was a sign of things to come. Things were never going to settle down again. Weird thought.

He blinked up as Rep came out, looking down at his hand and then starting down the hall with a soft sound.

"I don't think he means anything by it, not really, he's just got a weird sense of humor."

Amory laughed. It didn't help with his nerves. Instead, as always, it sent a shiver up his spine. Briefly, he looked sideways to Rep, shoulders hiked in a shrug and a smile flashing across his mouth, wide. It was a shallow sort of smile, unconvincing.

"I mean, I couldn't actually kill myself with my own weapon, right? So he's just ******** with me."

"I figured, from your comments, and, uh." He shrugged, waving the idea off, his eyes drawn down to the scarring on Rep's chest again. This time, he'd been invited to look, so it lingered -- more thoughtful than anything else, his eyebrows pulling together. A hole punched in your chest, heart removed from the body, was more than he'd really thought about when signing up -- he was sure of that, even if most of his memories were still spotty.

Ever licked his lips, leaning against the wall as he headed down the stairs. "Amory's a short little sword dagger thing, I don't know. Medieval-looking. Sharp as hell. Oh, he says stiletto."

Almost absently, he pulled out the little silver cigarette case and held it up for Rep to see. "I could show you, but I'm still not quite sure what the rules are about all that. If there are any."

He'd pause, in the dark, near the bottom of the stairs -- still just enough ambient light in the air to catch the back of his hair, like a dandelion glowing around his head, to light up the metal toes of his boots, and look back up at Rep. His weapon was really huge? Ever could believe that, definitely, and he looked almost pained as he fought down some comment, something teasing and flirty both, struggling until it passed.

"...my weapon's only really good for stabbing." He said it too deadpan, too flat, because being good was almost physically painful. "Penetrative, definitely."

And as he spoke, he summoned it -- cigarette case melting away to the flat black of his stiletto, the hilt lit up with angry, angled runes like broken glass. They cast a dull red glow onto his face, lighting up the planes of his cheekbones and leaving bright dots at the centers of his pupils.

"I don't have a damned clue how to use it, though. I've never been in anything but fist fights, before."

Ever leaned in the stairwell, still lit by the glow of his weapon, to watch Rep move -- head cocked to the side and legs crossed, casually, at the ankle. When Rep said it was big, he was picturing...a size up, perhaps. A two-handed weapon, gigantic in comparison to the single-handed axes that firefighters used. Something medieval, like his own. He hadn't been expecting something quite so obscenely huge, and Tracy left him blinking, slowly, unsure what even to say in response to that.

// Overcompensation. // Amory's tone was rude, snickering, unhesitating, and Ever couldn't help but laugh, hand coming up in front of his mouth to smother it as best he could. It was surprised out of him, helpless, shaking his head as he took in -- meters of axe.

"Can you even lift that thing?" It was a newbie question, and a stupid question, and Ever probably already knew the answer, but knowing wasn't the same as seeing. Besides, it looked heavy. The show might be worthwhile. He approached slowly to get a better look, crouching out of the way.

"Any time. Definitely." He lingered by the stairs, though, for another long moment -- his head cocked and expression thoughtful, watching the way Tracy shifted in the dim gloom of the basement. Then, begrudgingly, licking his lips in a nervous sort of way, he kicked into motion. Sliding past rep, carefully, and down the hall, lit by the faint red glow of the broken-glass runes on his stiletto.

"Does your weapon also power wash?" He'd continue backwards down the hall toward his own room, head cocked, hair tumbling into his face. It hadn't occurred to him until just now that he could use his weapon like this, like a flashlight. Diffuse, shitty, but better than nothing.