2025-01-21 - X-MEN! CAFFEINE! GOATS! (No, seriously)

It's a bright, winter morning on the Spellbound Isles and the views of Lake Michigan from this apartment's floor-to-ceiling windows are breathtaking. The water is an icy blue, strangely, mysteriously warm enough to remain unfrozen despite the bitter Canadian cold that has settled over the wider region.

Brandon's sitting on the low-slung, comfortable couch in the living area of the common space, a Gibson acoustic on his lap as he strums experimentally. A few leaves of paper with handwritten lyrics are scattered on the coffee table in front of him, along with a half-empty coffee mug that looks lukewarm at best. His ski gear is thrown lazily on top of the foosball table that was his largest contribution to the room's decor, and the smell of breakfast lingers as he plays a clean, cheerful melody.

Alan was up late last night, as he almost always is. It's just the nature of his job and thus he is somewhat of a nocturnal animal. He comes wandering out of his room in a pair of pajama pants, socks, and a plain white t-shirt with the collar still a little stretched from easing it over his horns. The sound of the guitar gets a little bit of a blurry smile as he makes his way into the kitchen in search of coffee. "How was the ski trip?" he asks. "You just get back?"

As Alan emerges from his room, the guitar goes silent and a hand is waved. "Good couple days," Brandon agrees, nodding, a contented smile on his lips. Straightening out from his hunched position over the guitar, he gives his mug of cooled coffee a desultory look and expands on the long weekend.

"I still suck at skiing. Notre Dame lost, and of course there was some OSU guy there to rub it in." He looks up, eyes bright, grinning. "But sometimes it's all about the company."

Alan goes in and gets the pot going again. Noticing the glance at the mug he chuckles and asks, "Want a warm up? Or a fresh cup?" Since he's in there making it and all. He gets down one mug for himself, two if Brandon wants a new mug. He then nods toward the guitar and says, "You don't have to stop playing because I'm up." Then it's back to rummaging in the kitchen while Brandon talks about the ski weekend.

He chuckles a little bit about the game results and says "Of course." He grabs some creamer out of the fridge and sets it on the counter then finds a bowl and cereal. "Yeah? You bring Good Seats Girl?" which is how Alan is going to refer to her until Brandon actually calls the poor woman by her name.

Brandon accepts the offer of hot coffee with gratitude. Given the green light, he begins strumming an F chord-- 'begins' being the operative word, because the next thing Alan asks gets him laughing in spite of himself. Looking up sheepishly, eyes sparkling, the singer favors his friend with a broad grin.

"Yeah. Yeah, we went together," Brandon says, and he can't. Help. Beaming.

Then his eyes narrow slightly, and with a hint of guilt, wonders aloud, "You didn't... ah... happen to come back super late after your set on Friday?" Without much of a pause, he adds, "Don't answer that. Of course you did."

Alan leans back against the counter in the kitchen, watching Brandon over the pass-through as he waits for the coffee to brew and pours some milk into his cereal. That goes into the fridge and then he settles in to eat. There's an easy grin when Brandon says that they went together. The question about Friday night gets a slow amused smile. "Nope. Stayed out all night. Didn't come home til mid-afternoon." Is it the truth? Is it LIES? Hard to tell. "Why? Would I have witnessed something... scandalous, Brandon?"

"Well... no," Brandon admits, unable to keep the hint of a blush from coloring his entire face. "Not exactly. It's too new for scandal, not that TMZ cares. I just hope we didn't get in your way is all."

Smiling that sheepish smile again, he sets the guitar down and gets to his feet, wandering over to the kitchen to check on the fresh pot of coffee Alan's brewing. Idly, he goes on, "Her name's Ruby. Ruby St. James. Works down at the aquarium show with all the aquatic life-- she's finishing her doctorate. Fucking brilliant girl. And she likes me."

He still seems a little surprised by that last part.

"You're so cute," Alan tells him teasingly when Brandon blushes, lifting another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. The coffee isn't quite ready yet. It's till percolating. "No, you didn't get in my way," he assures him. "I came in, saw you two crashed out, turned off the light, and went to bed," he confesses.

"Ruby Saint James, the soon to be doctor," Alan muses and nods. "Nice. Well she's welcome over any time. Doesn't bother me any." Then he laughs, "You act like that's such a shocking thing. You're actually a pretty nice guy, Brandon. Talented, thoughtful, a fucking knight, of all things." He wiggles his spoon at him demonstratively. Is it a lance? Who knows?

"I'm damaged goods, Alan," Brandon replies with a self-effacing chuckle, dodging his head away from any potential extension of the spoon into his airspace. He says it with a grin, clearly not taking himself too seriously, but the singer and sometime knight continues, "I was... someone, before. And yeah, she liked that someone from afar but I'm... not so sure that I always did. I like who I am now a lot better. I hope maybe she does too."

And with that, he peers in at the coffeepot as if trying to will it to hurry up. "Who," he absently asks Alan, still staring at the coffee, "were you before you came here?"

"You're someone now, too," Alan points out. "And damaged goods is bullshit. We all go through shit in our lives, make some poor life choices, take a few hits along the way, and we keep on ticking." Then he waves a hand a bit and says, "She likes who she's spending time with and getting to know. Sure, the pretty picture from afar probably drew her in the first place, but that's just human nature. But you don't stay unless you like what you found."

The question though catches him a little bit by surprise. Nobody ever asks about him. Maybe about the horns. But rarely much more than that. He shrugs his shoulders and asks, "You really want to know?"

"Yeah," says Brandon, distracted by the coffee but honest and earnest in tone. "I mean, you haven't killed me in my sleep yet so you're obviously good people," he laughs, excited as the pot finally beeps. He's quick to pull it off of the warmer and fill the mug, turning around and lifting the vessel in a salute. "But it's like the reverse of what you said. I'm someone now too. So are you. But if we're all the sum of our experiences... what brought you here, Alan? And why do you stay?"

"You set a very, very low bar, my friend," Alan observes a little bit dryly when all it takes to be good people is not murdering his roommate in his sleep. He scoops some more cereal into his mouth and chews it as he considers what to tell Brandon, and how. About who he was. Who he is. "I was a DJ in Manhattan. Played a lot of rich kid parties, events, clubs. But I was also in adult entertainment," he says, smile twisting a bit wryly. "Porn."

Reaching over, he fills his own mug and adds some of the creamer to it, rinsing out his cereal bowl and then dropping both it and the spoon in the dishwasher before he takes up the mug and wraps both hands around it, leaning back against the counter. "That hedonistic lifestyle you mentioned not wanting? That was my life. A lot of indulgence. A lot of fun acquaintances but not a lot of real friendships or connections."

"As for what brought me here, specifically? Needed a change of scenery. Promise of a steady in-residence gig without having to try to find a new job every week. The mysterious rumors of real magic," he muses. "Why do I stay? I've only been here three weeks, man. I mean, admittedly that's the longest gig I've had in a while in one place, but still. Why would I go?"

Alan’s admission of adult industry employment obviously surprises Brandon, by his expression, but at the same time it’s just as evident that the singer’s not passing judgement. Knowing Brandon, he’s probably torn between making a really good joke and not wanting to step on what could be a trigger topic.

Finally, what he actually does is nod along, listening, and as his friend ends on a question, he actually chuckles.

“I guess that makes sense,” Brandon agrees, sipping at his blessedly hot coffee. “Honestly, at first I thought this magic shit was all smoke and mirrors, you know? But now that it stares me in the face every morning and I’ve felt it? I kinda like it. Plus, this is a great place to be young. Everyone here is from somewhere else, right?”

Alan watches Brandon as he sips his coffee, but the lack of judgment seems to ease any wariness that follows the admission. Then his lips quirk into an amused smile. "Go ahead," he says, the same way he did when Brandon kept looking at his horns. "You can say it." Whatever it is that he seems to be torn about saying.

"I didn't know what to expect. I'd heard a lot of weird stuff but then nobody believed it either, right? Like, it all just had to be some fancy AI marketing gimmick. Still, even if it was, it was the best gimmick I'd seen and it sounded like fun." He takes another sip of his coffee and nods. "Yeah it's uh.. definitely undeniable," he laughs, those sharp teeth evidence enough of that. "And this place is fun. Am I going to stay here in Neverland forever? I don't know. But I do know that I'm settling in for a while. I want to see how all of this plays out."

"Yeah," agrees Brandon, chuckling again, having waved off the invitation to make a Boogie Nights joke. "It's enough to make you believe in conspiracy theories. Like, aliens and bigfoot and all that shit, right here on Lake Michigan. Except this time, it's smurfs under the ice and old friends growing wings. I mean, what the hell?" He nods respect to Alan's horns, then taps his left bicep and rolls up his sleeve.

"I mean, this fucking glows now when I do... something." He doesn't mention how he found that out, just adds, "Like the Wolverine deal. Or now I can talk to people mind-to-mind. Like Professor X. Telepathy." He blows a long breath out and gives Alan a tired grin. "But as a whole I think I made out okay."

Alan smirks a little as Brandon backs down from the joke, a little entertained. "Don't worry," he assures, "I have a pretty good sense of humor about things. You're not going to offend me." It's more of a general statement, than anything else, for future reference. "You had an old friend grow wings? That's pretty cool. Part of me thinks wings would be a hot addition. On the other hand, I feel like I'd get them caught in literally everything." He looks thoughtful then shakes his head. "The horns are enough." Not that it was a choice.

Leaning over, he glances at Brandon's arm and raises his brows. "When you do.. something? When you do what? Do you know?" Then he laughs when Brandon mentions telepathy. "Man, you're going for the whole X-Men collection, huh? If you get laser eyes, please warn me to increase the coverage on our renter's insurance."

"If only," Brandon breathes, allowing himself a mildly jealous tone above a grin that goes momentarily sardonic. Shooting laser beams from your eyes-- or any kind of laser beams, really-- would be total boyhood wish fulfillment. "So far, though, it's just mental speech and... self-healing, I guess. I don't know if there's anything else. I really wish I could be one of those people who can talk to ghosts. I wouldn't believe it but... I mean, everything else keeps happening, so why not? Ruby turns into a dolphin. Which I still need to see, by the way."

"I don't know how I'd feel about talking to ghosts," Alan ponders. "On the one hand, I'm kind of used to people watching. On the other hand, I kinda like to choose when that is." There's a faint smirk that touches his lips as he takes another sip from his mug.

"No shit? I bet that helps with her whole hanging out with the sea creatures gig. She can literally just swim with the fishes. Now that, that I'd like to be able to do -- turn into an animal or something." He pauses and glances at himself, "Okay I probably shouldn't say that too loud unless I wake up a goat."

"Yeah," Brandon says with a touch of empathy, nodding along again. "You doing okay with all that? I mean-- the horns and all, your own Wolverine deal," he explains, inclusive of what he's seen of Alan's new gifts. "I'm okay not like... glowing, or polymorphing, or... you know. I don't think I could handle it. But you seem to be pretty chill with the whole deal?"

Alan gives a little shrug of his shoulders and smiles, "It freaked me out when it first happened. The whole horns thing. The teeth. I lisped for about a day and a half before I got used to them," He takes another small sip from his coffee and says, "Honestly, aside from when I'm trying to get a shirt on over them I don't even think about them anymore, really. I just kind of know where they are. Like after you drive a new car for a bit you just have an awareness of how much space you take up."

"The claws are cool since they're not there all the time," he says as he taps his normal-looking fingers against the mug. "I can just pop those out when I need them. They make pretty great box cutters." Which is probably his primary use for them, let's be honest. He's a little too mellow to be picking fights. "I'd be lying if I didn't say I was a little worried that the changes will keep going and I'll legit end up some kind of goat. That idea creeps me out a bit. But.. if it stops here? I.. think I'm okay? Ish?"

Brandon turns out to be a surprisingly good listener. The story of the horns is something he'd been curious about, but politely avoiding, for weeks. Naturally, then, he pays close attention to Alan as he sips at his coffee. The line about box cutters elicits a chuckle.

"It's weird. When you're a kid people ask you what kind of animal you want to be, and now we've got people, like... doing that shit," Brandon says, addressing the elephant in not just the room but the whole freakin' island dead-on. "I can't believe the HR people aren't scrambling to find better coverage for all the therapy sessions people are booking. Hell, maybe they are. But I get you. You've got guts, man. If I turned into a goat I'd probably light myself on fire."

"I woke up with them one morning, the horns, and they were stuck in my pillow. I couldn't figure out why my pillow was all torn up. Then I went to take a shower and ran them into the shower bar and almost pulled it off the wall," Alan says, smiling a little crookedly. "It took a little getting used to." He doesn't seem to mind talking about it. In fact, he doesn't really seem to mind talking about anything at all once he's certain the other person actually wants to hear it. He just tends to be quiet about himself unless asked.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure the clinic is doing good business right about now," Alan chuckles, of all the therapy that people must need to cope with everything that's going on. Then he flashes a bit of a smile and says, "I dunno. Satyrs are supposed to be kind of hot. Some people are into that. Probably not full goat. I think full goat would be a problem. Also, you probably couldn't light yourself on fire. No thumbs."

"I mean, I could try ramming my head into a gas pump," Brandon essays with a wry, amused grin before waving a hand in front of him as if waving off the idea. "Anyway, it's cool that you seem to have taken to it so easily. If this tattoo starts blowing shit up, I might have to ask you more questions about how you do that," he goes on, half-joking but also apparently half-serious as he begins standing up.

"Hey! You remember Scarlett Nash? Or--" He rolls his eyes at himself. "Of course you do. She's a star. Right. Anyway, I'm supposed to meet her at the ferry. We're gonna jam together on this thing I've been writing. Drop by if you feel like it."

"Do I need to be concerned that you've given this thought?" Alan raises one brow just a bit. He doesn't seem too worried though. "Hah. Not sure I'm the best one to give advice on anything, but sure."

When Brandon gets ready to go, Alan gives him a little nod. "Yeah, I remember. Where are you guys going to practice? I could come hang for a bit before I head into work later tonight."

"Well," Brandon considers, thoughtfully thinking aloud through his answer, "I have to meet her at the ferry. Then we'll need to walk over, get set up, probably warm up with a song or two..." He shrugs his shoulders at that. "Honestly, any time after an hour or so should be fine. You might even get to hear us cover a real song and not just work noodle on my little work-in-progress."

Grinning at that, he drains the last of his coffee and looks around for a coat. The ski gear, he leaves on the foosball table and grins. "But come on down if you want, man. Sometimes, it really is about the company."

"Alright," Alan says. "I'll meet you down there in about an hour. Gives me some time to get properly up and dressed and screw around online a bit, check my messages, before I head on down." He grins and drains his own mug, setting it into the dish washer then lifts a hand in a wave, heading back toward his room.