[The line between sarcasm and genuine… whatever-it-is, is the name of Val’s game. Figuratively speaking. Lines are an abstract concept, anyway, and she exists to disregard them all.]
Background noise, then! [Dera doesn’t sound too interested in it, huh?] Order anything good? All those cigarettes, maybe? [She is very well aware these nail-polished women do not sell packs of Camel Blues. Probably.]
I have not! [Slurpee? 7-11?? What novel things.] As you may have noticed, I’m not exactly familiar with [waving a hand towards Q.V.C.] specific brands. In my… dreamscape, if you will, there’s not much of anything specific at all!
Well, this isn't a 7-11, but I bet if we go to the freezer section they'll have some sort of thinly veiled off-brand Slurpee knock off you can eat with a spoon.
[—Not the expected response! Better, actually. Val likes this fellow.]
That sounds delightful, my dear Dera. [The only thing stopping her from throwing an arm around his neck (in camaraderie, you see) is that he seems to be very real indeed, and that might futz with the illusion.
[So instead, she takes a slight bow, one hand behind her back, and points the other off in whichever direction.] Lead the way!
[Dera nods, turning on his heel (not with much gusto, albeit) and waving his left arm over his shoulder in a “follow me” gesture. Hold music that sounds suspiciously like Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic” plays softly on the overhead speakers as they make their way to the freezer section. It’s weird how the off brand flavored ice is right in front of them the second they get there—-
[Or it’s the…only thing on the shelves in the freezer section…? Weird, but.]
Bingo, I guess.
[He pulls out one of the boxes and tears it open, removing two of the little cups (one red ice, one blue) and tossing one to Val. There’s a little plastic spoon attached to the lid. He takes the blue one, by the way.]
These really aren’t anything like Slurpees. I shouldn’t mislead you. Same principle though.
[Time to put out his cigarette. He tosses it to the floor again and stomps it out.]
I don’t usually do that, by the way. But. You know. Dream-Mart and all.
[Music and everything! This store just keeps getting better and better.]
[That the desired item is not only in front of them but also the only item the section has to offer… does not phase Val. It’s more defined than the vague outlines of a lazy artist, yes? And just what they’re looking for. Win-win.]
[Val fumbles the catch but just manages to avoid a spill anyway, and promptly helps herself as Dera talks. She gives herself brainfreeze instantly. What do you know, that’s a thing she can get now! She ain’t even mad.]
Hm? [The cigarette.] Oh, that. Eh, who’s cleaning? [Punctuated with a generous slurp, and with it a fresh little headache. Feeling things is great!]
This is divine, by the way. What are the odds, red and blue! [Pointing towards his hair,] That your token color?
Red and blue are pretty standard Slurpee colors - or Slurpee variations, as we see here.
[His voice still sounds like he's watching paint dry, by the way. He takes a few good slurps of his own.]
Watch out for brain freeze.
[But to answer her question:]
I'm kinda fixated on blue, yeah. Always have been. I mean, it doesn't belong to me or anything, but. [Slurp break.] Kinda does.
[He takes a long lock of his hair between two fingers, squinting at it to see if he can make out the color from a close distance. He knows from the last time he looked in the mirror that it's properly faded to a light denim, and that his dark roots are showing again.]
I dye it with Kool-Aid, actually. Most of the time.
[The paint-drying tone is nothing new to Val. Dera is still engaging verbally, even if his inflection leaves some enthusiasm to be desired; she can work with this!]
Cool Aid! [Whatever it is, Rudy would probably like it. Where are the other three, anyway?] Does a pretty good job, I’d say.
[Another slurp. It was already too late for the brainfreeze warning. As far as Val’s concerned, this is the tradeoff for actual temperature sensation.] Do tell more about your “ownership” of blue? Inquiring minds want to know.
[Herself, of course. But she thinks Kade would get a kick out of it, too—much as Kade gets a kick out of anything, which is… often lacking. What came first, the color or the depression?]
Oh. Well, I mean...No, you can't own a color, but. I've just always liked it--
[Dera and Valerie are too far away from the wall of TVs to still see them. (Un)fortunately, they happen to be standing in an aisle of reflective services. For a moment - none too brief - they all light up with the same image. Eyes with white-colored lashes and irises of such a haunting, light blue that they almost look pink instead.
[Dera stumbles backwards, flat on his ass, eyes wide at the makeshift screens.]
H-hey, woah...what...? What was that? That...
[He looks like he's seen a ghost. So this is where the nightmare begins.]
[Gold eyes watch the "screens", now back to being freezer doors instead. His mouth is open and stammering, but he makes no sound.
["Jesus Christ. Pull yourself together. It's just a dream. You'll wake up soon." He prepares himself for the sleep paralysis that will no doubt be kicking in the second he "wakes up".
[His voice is idle as he answers, still watching the screens in case Those Eyes(TM) decide to return...
[A large part of him wishes they would.]
Yeah, I do...I knew...him. That's my...[His mouth feels dry. The would-be Slurpee has already been discarded. He takes a minute to light another cigarette, hands shaky.]
[Oh hello, that’s new information! “Friends,” Dera says, and yet he looks none too happy. Shame about the not-quite-Slurpee.]
“Were” friends?
[A flicker of piqued interest in Val’s eyes. Maybe she’s projecting (okay, well, she is), but she can’t imagine Kade would be thrilled to see her face like that. Blue and red, ever a classic....]
["What went wrong?" Dera swallows down a lump in his throat. Valerie might observe a single tear from each eye when he blinks. He still looks stunned. His voice comes out hoarser than usual.]
[It’s rather flat, by Val’s standards. (Which, to anyone else, is about a baseline expressiveness.) Not quite disappointed, but not particularly amused. It takes her a moment to remember that’s something normal people don’t come back from.]
Well. [A moment longer, to consider how to even respond. Sensitivity might be appropriate, especially with those tears in his eyes.... What would Cyrus say, here?]
[The eyes don't return. Dera wipes at his own, sniffling - nearly burns himself with the cherry of his cigarette, but manages to avoid it. He takes another long drag. It feels way too real.]
This...
I-I should have woken up by now. This is...weird, I...
I don't wanna be here anymore. [An afterthought:] No offense.
[Now is probably a terrible time to take a Slurpee sip. Should she be helping him up? Probably better than just staring…]
[Val extends a hand, though she doesn’t kneel down to help any further. She looks around the Dream-Mart, instead. Interacting with real people is a strange experience indeed.]
I don’t know. Pinch yourself, maybe? Dreams are strange....
[Dera doesn't respond directly, but takes the advice to heart. Plucking the cigarette from his mouth, he turns his palm upward and presses the cherry against it. It burns. He holds it there a few seconds too long anyway.]
Shit. [A belated response as he drops the cigarette and shakes his hand. Sure enough, there's a round little burn right in the center of his palm.
[Val is frowning somewhat. Alcohol is something that someone she knows does have, inexplicably, and it does not seem particularly good either. It does not seem good for her, specifically.]
[Dera pushes himself up from the ground, ignoring Val's hand. It's not meant to be rude, he's just...starting to get a little edgy. His response is dry and flat, and doesn't come out until his back is turned, his legs already moving toward the liquor aisle a few rows down.]
Drink. [A pause. He considers the response after he's already made it - corrects it.] I take that back.
[Edginess, as it turns out, is also something Val’s familiar with. It’s always the blue ones, isn’t it? It occurs to her prodding that subject was what prompted the dead friend’s face. Something to revisit....
[For now, though, she’d prefer not to be on standby as Dera drowns himself.] Really! Nothing at all?
[Val crosses her arms behind her back and follows, keeping close behind. There’s a trace of her usual dramatic swing in her inflection, but if Dera’s been listening closely, he might notice that it’s ever so slightly tempered.] No hobbies, no passions? Just QVC and smoking and drinks?
Not ever? Even as a kid? [Absently Val is glad there’s not a bottle of ✨ liquor ✨ in sight.] Nothing that, I don’t know, maybe you’ve wanted to try? Besides drinks and drugs and what have you.
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[The line between sarcasm and genuine… whatever-it-is, is the name of Val’s game. Figuratively speaking. Lines are an abstract concept, anyway, and she exists to disregard them all.]
Background noise, then! [Dera doesn’t sound too interested in it, huh?] Order anything good? All those cigarettes, maybe? [She is very well aware these nail-polished women do not sell packs of Camel Blues. Probably.]
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I have not! [Slurpee? 7-11?? What novel things.] As you may have noticed, I’m not exactly familiar with [waving a hand towards Q.V.C.] specific brands. In my… dreamscape, if you will, there’s not much of anything specific at all!
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I mean, I'm not sure I want to attribute a flooded Wal-Mart to my usual dreamsc--
[Actually, considering his actual usual dreamscape...]
This is a rude question, but are you, like...real?
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Oh, no.
[Flashing a grin.]
Absolutely not.
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[He feels better.]
Well, this isn't a 7-11, but I bet if we go to the freezer section they'll have some sort of thinly veiled off-brand Slurpee knock off you can eat with a spoon.
[Interested?]
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[—Not the expected response! Better, actually. Val likes this fellow.]
That sounds delightful, my dear Dera. [The only thing stopping her from throwing an arm around his neck (in camaraderie, you see) is that he seems to be very real indeed, and that might futz with the illusion.
[So instead, she takes a slight bow, one hand behind her back, and points the other off in whichever direction.] Lead the way!
[. . . What is with that flood, anyway?]
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[Or it’s the…only thing on the shelves in the freezer section…? Weird, but.]
Bingo, I guess.
[He pulls out one of the boxes and tears it open, removing two of the little cups (one red ice, one blue) and tossing one to Val. There’s a little plastic spoon attached to the lid. He takes the blue one, by the way.]
These really aren’t anything like Slurpees. I shouldn’t mislead you. Same principle though.
[Time to put out his cigarette. He tosses it to the floor again and stomps it out.]
I don’t usually do that, by the way. But. You know. Dream-Mart and all.
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[Music and everything! This store just keeps getting better and better.]
[That the desired item is not only in front of them but also the only item the section has to offer… does not phase Val. It’s more defined than the vague outlines of a lazy artist, yes? And just what they’re looking for. Win-win.]
[Val fumbles the catch but just manages to avoid a spill anyway, and promptly helps herself as Dera talks. She gives herself brainfreeze instantly. What do you know, that’s a thing she can get now! She ain’t even mad.]
Hm? [The cigarette.] Oh, that. Eh, who’s cleaning? [Punctuated with a generous slurp, and with it a fresh little headache. Feeling things is great!]
This is divine, by the way. What are the odds, red and blue! [Pointing towards his hair,] That your token color?
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Red and blue are pretty standard Slurpee colors - or Slurpee variations, as we see here.
[His voice still sounds like he's watching paint dry, by the way. He takes a few good slurps of his own.]
Watch out for brain freeze.
[But to answer her question:]
I'm kinda fixated on blue, yeah. Always have been. I mean, it doesn't belong to me or anything, but. [Slurp break.] Kinda does.
[He takes a long lock of his hair between two fingers, squinting at it to see if he can make out the color from a close distance. He knows from the last time he looked in the mirror that it's properly faded to a light denim, and that his dark roots are showing again.]
I dye it with Kool-Aid, actually. Most of the time.
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[The paint-drying tone is nothing new to Val. Dera is still engaging verbally, even if his inflection leaves some enthusiasm to be desired; she can work with this!]
Cool Aid! [Whatever it is, Rudy would probably like it. Where are the other three, anyway?] Does a pretty good job, I’d say.
[Another slurp. It was already too late for the brainfreeze warning. As far as Val’s concerned, this is the tradeoff for actual temperature sensation.] Do tell more about your “ownership” of blue? Inquiring minds want to know.
[Herself, of course. But she thinks Kade would get a kick out of it, too—much as Kade gets a kick out of anything, which is… often lacking. What came first, the color or the depression?]
universe fuckery begin!
[Dera and Valerie are too far away from the wall of TVs to still see them. (Un)fortunately, they happen to be standing in an aisle of reflective services. For a moment - none too brief - they all light up with the same image. Eyes with white-colored lashes and irises of such a haunting, light blue that they almost look pink instead.
[Dera stumbles backwards, flat on his ass, eyes wide at the makeshift screens.]
H-hey, woah...what...? What was that? That...
[He looks like he's seen a ghost. So this is where the nightmare begins.]
Shit...
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[Huh, new chara— You good there, Dera?]
[Val stares down at him. Back to the screen-not-screens. Back to Dera.]
What was that? [Idle curiosity.] You recognize them?
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["Jesus Christ. Pull yourself together. It's just a dream. You'll wake up soon." He prepares himself for the sleep paralysis that will no doubt be kicking in the second he "wakes up".
[His voice is idle as he answers, still watching the screens in case Those Eyes(TM) decide to return...
[A large part of him wishes they would.]
Yeah, I do...I knew...him. That's my...[His mouth feels dry. The would-be Slurpee has already been discarded. He takes a minute to light another cigarette, hands shaky.]
We were friends.
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[Oh hello, that’s new information! “Friends,” Dera says, and yet he looks none too happy. Shame about the not-quite-Slurpee.]
“Were” friends?
[A flicker of piqued interest in Val’s eyes. Maybe she’s projecting (okay, well, she is), but she can’t imagine Kade would be thrilled to see her face like that. Blue and red, ever a classic....]
What went wrong?
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He killed himself.
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Oh.
[It’s rather flat, by Val’s standards. (Which, to anyone else, is about a baseline expressiveness.) Not quite disappointed, but not particularly amused. It takes her a moment to remember that’s something normal people don’t come back from.]
Well. [A moment longer, to consider how to even respond. Sensitivity might be appropriate, especially with those tears in his eyes.... What would Cyrus say, here?]
That’s unfortunate. [Probably not that!]
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[The eyes don't return. Dera wipes at his own, sniffling - nearly burns himself with the cherry of his cigarette, but manages to avoid it. He takes another long drag. It feels way too real.]
This...
I-I should have woken up by now. This is...weird, I...
I don't wanna be here anymore. [An afterthought:] No offense.
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It is pretty inexplicable, isn’t it…?
[Now is probably a terrible time to take a Slurpee sip. Should she be helping him up? Probably better than just staring…]
[Val extends a hand, though she doesn’t kneel down to help any further. She looks around the Dream-Mart, instead. Interacting with real people is a strange experience indeed.]
I don’t know. Pinch yourself, maybe? Dreams are strange....
cw: self harm (I guess I use CWs now idk)
Shit. [A belated response as he drops the cigarette and shakes his hand. Sure enough, there's a round little burn right in the center of his palm.
[Dreams don't usually hurt like this...
["Stay calm."
[A glance at Val.]
Ever had a hard drink?
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[Wait. Wait, that’s not what… she meant....]
[Val is frowning somewhat. Alcohol is something that someone she knows does have, inexplicably, and it does not seem particularly good either. It does not seem good for her, specifically.]
What do you do for fun?
[Non-sequitur? Deflection? Yeah.]
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Drink. [A pause. He considers the response after he's already made it - corrects it.] I take that back.
Nothing.
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[Edginess, as it turns out, is also something Val’s familiar with. It’s always the blue ones, isn’t it? It occurs to her prodding that subject was what prompted the dead friend’s face. Something to revisit....
[For now, though, she’d prefer not to be on standby as Dera drowns himself.] Really! Nothing at all?
[Val crosses her arms behind her back and follows, keeping close behind. There’s a trace of her usual dramatic swing in her inflection, but if Dera’s been listening closely, he might notice that it’s ever so slightly tempered.] No hobbies, no passions? Just QVC and smoking and drinks?
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[He comes to a stop at the liquor aisle, which proudly advertises ✨ LIQUOR ✨; however, the shelves are empty. Dera laughs. It doesn't sound happy.]
Well. Shit.
[Shit. He'll really be chugging on that cigarette now.
[He turns back to Val, waving away her question, half-mumbling a response.]
No, I don't...do shit. Ever. I mean, sometimes a party or something if I have to. I don't know.
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[All right. Now that sounds pretty sad.]
Not ever? Even as a kid? [Absently Val is glad there’s not a bottle of ✨ liquor ✨ in sight.] Nothing that, I don’t know, maybe you’ve wanted to try? Besides drinks and drugs and what have you.
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