You're not a total shitlord.

William
It isn't hard to actually find his apartment, since Grace has been there. The security is somewhat lax there, no real person to buzz you in. The land lord said he was going to fix it, but he has been saying a lot of things. William's done a good job of keeping his own apartment pretty secure, doesn't have anything that the average person would find to be worth stealing. Someone who ctively means him ill is going to use more than standard force to get into his stuff, and some magickal threat would just teleport its happy self in.

The apartment feels different. The furniture has changed some He has the sofa that Samir made him, yeah. None of the major pieces offurniture seem to be missing but it feels as though half a person lives there. The art is missing. There are places where it would naturally go, yes. Some of it is sitting on the floor, leaned against a wall, but most of it just seems to be gone.

The room Jenn was staying in is empty. Most of the pictures in the house are missing. The things that make it identifiable, the things that make the apartment feel like it was a collaboration are missing and without that input it doesn't seem to feel like anything is really there. There are papers still on the kitchen table. Notebooks on end tables and a rug covering up the places where William has drawn on the floor in chalk. It all feels more like a place to work and a place to Work now. If there is a flat surface, it has some indication of research on it.

The apartment itself, for all its chaos, is surprisingly clean.

He's been working, though right now most of his work involves cleaning the bathroom right now, so there's that.

Grace
The last time they spoke, William had said something about wanting to get together to hash things out between them. This, while Grace was exiting the scene in utter disgust and a complete lack of patience left to deal with him and Margot.

Is it some kind of emotional masochistic streak that has Grace outside his door this afternoon? Or just a willingness not to let the frayed edges of life go on hanging? She'd like to think it's the latter.

She's in a better place now -- or a worse place, depending on your frame. Alex has been 'rescued', though she hasn't yet heard the exact state he's in. Physically secured, let's say? No longer in a Primium prison? And she's slept.

She also no longer has Alex's capture hanging over her head, overriding all other concerns, giving her a constant driving need. She doesn't need to see William right now, she thinks, making her hesitate before knocking. But he probably already knows she's there anyway, right?

Knock knock, man.

William
There's a knock on the door and he has a short list of people that ti could be. Could have been Margot. She knew where he lived, they talked somewhat regularly, though that had more to do with being privy to crimes and complicated social messes. She could have been coming over to study, but she didn't seem the type to just come over without warning.

Or, it could be Grace, who he does expect to a certain extent. He knew she was going to be there, possibly because of an interest int eh future or the ability to see what the most possible future was and he'd already seen that seeing Grace was a highly likely event.

Knock knock, and he goes to the door. Opens. Brows raise-

"You want a beer?" because this might not be pleasant. Beer may be required. He steps away and offers to let her in, "you can have anything you want in the fridge, and there actually is food in the fridge."

Grace
"No," she says, because she doesn't really want her mind to be dulled right now. "I don't think that would be wise. And I ate already, so..."

Talking too much. She looks past him into the room inside his door, steps inside.

"You said you wanted to talk about shit, well, here I am. Let's talk," she says, shutting the door behind her with her foot.

William
He inhales slow, lets her step into his rather blank (but pretty) aparmtent. There are a few very nice things there. The bed in the loft, for one. The rather solid bookshelf standing beside the door. He does have things he has invested in, cares about being able to keep.

"What's going on with your life right now?" he asks, as though he is concerned. And perhaps he is concerned, but given how well he had done in appearing stone-faced and unmoved and unswayed by emotional things the last time they talked, one would think that either that was a display or this was.

Either way, both seemed pretty damned real.

Grace
"I guess you've heard? I hope you've heard. They got Alex out safely. Nobody's dead. So. Yay," she says, and yet doesn't sound much like she's celebrating. She isn't really here to sit back, drink beer with her friend and talk about how great it was that the rescue attempt went off without a hitch. That would be nice, but...

He asks how her life is going, and she responds by telling him current events. Not really her life.

She crosses into the room, stepping onto a rug that covers up the chalk sigils on his floor. Maybe she's standing on "Bring Me Rent Money" or "Fix This Bad Hair Day" or something. She only knows enough about sigil-craft to know that's what they are.

William
"But how are you," he says. She responds with current events and he, clever child- darling child. Child who has made his fortunes in knowing how to redirect and misdirect to the point that he got himself out of a medicated hostage situation.

She crosses across a particular barrier, and some of it is protective, but most of it is with regards to the spirits. Most of it is a safe space to do... fuck, what kind of magick does he do? William takes a step into the room, plops himself down on the floor like he usually does when there isn't an official conversation happening.

You can sit on the floor when you are equals. It's informal.

Doesn't say if he's heard or not. Doesn't indicate one way or the other because... well, it might be a sore spot. Their means of communication is dead.

Grace
She slides down on her knees, and pulls her feet up into her lap -- not the most graceful thing in the world, is Grace. She doesn't make it look easy or flowing or anything. No, this is a flop and a muscle-spasm or two. But she's found the center of the rug in the middle of its patterns, covering up a bit of a magick circle. Her wings fill up the rest of the space behind her, not that they can be seen or touched -- but felt, certainly. It always makes her seem to take up more space than she really does.

Her head tilts at him. "Why do you care?"

William
As though the circle contained some digital angel- what with Grace and her comforts and her wings and ability to wipe him off the face of the planet should she so choose. She does not choose, though, and there is some comfort in that. The last time that Grace was here, she stood and stared down some Euthanatos in his living room and, for good or ill, this is really the last time that William and Grace have interacted in any real capacity.

Why do you care?

He doesn't answer that, either. Just looks at her like she slapped him and he doesn't know what to do with himself just yet.

Grace
She scratches an eye, looks past him at the border between the far wall and ceiling. "If there were someone in my life who I felt didn't respect me in any way and thought me totally incompetent? I wouldn't give a shit about what they thought. I don't get to let people hurt me like that, and I sure as Hell don't count them among the people I call friends or care about."

Well. There's her mom. That thought makes her blink and tilt her head the other way.

"Perhaps I could care about them, but still cut them out of my life for my own good. So, I don't really understand why you're doing this."

William
She doesn't understand why he's doing this and he is in his house. He exhales again, slowly, doesn't go with his knee jerk reaction-

"I'm doing this because I think that we can work out the differences and issues we have, which I'm hoping are just issues of communication styles and needing clarification... and I'm asking because I thought we were friends, and I'm worried bout you."

There's this awkward silence. A moment where there is half a second and he looks at her with all her glories and armor. Looks at her while she's sitting amidst sigils and he seems like he could have any number of things to say and he just...

"... we aren't friends, are we?" Were we ever?

Grace
She sighs. He thinks that they can work out their differences? "If you don't think I respect you, why would you possibly think that we would work out our differences? If someone doesn't respect you, they couldn't care less about that shit."

Her eyes wander up to a light fixture, and she shakes her head at it, confused. "I'm sorry. I've never been very good at figuring people out. The only model for 'human' that I have is myself, and I'm..." another shake of her head. She doesn't know what she is.

"I thought we were friends, but friends aren't abusive assholes to each other. And apparently I have been, to you."

William
"Because what is perceived and what is real are two different things. I've been really... fuck, you know I'm a fucking insecure wreck," he laughs, a release valve for tension with him, "I want to work things out because I know you're not a total shitlord, Grace, and I recognize I've been pretty shitty too. I don't reach out to you, I don't try as hard as I used to. I don't keep up with you and I haven't been actively tending our friendship and weeding out all the shitty things we collectively do."

A second.

"It's not just you, though, with the whole... respect issue. It just hurt with you because you're so fucking with it. You are the person people look up to, you're the person who has all of the information, the person who has survived Hell and has the scars to prove it and knows better and doesn't seem to fall flat on her face.

"I want to stay friends, and staying friends means work, and neither of us are scared of work and I hope that neither of us have said or done anything that causes irreparable damage."

Grace
Grace rubs her eyes. "I don't fall flat on my face? You should have seen me a few weeks ago, face down on Kalen's ottoman, kicking myself because I'd just fended off a direct Technocratic attack from my office, and probably failed. I don't want you, or anybody else for that matter looking up to me. I am a person. I am not perfect. I am not some... crystal vase for you to put up on a shelf and admire or some bullshit."

There's a bit of anger there. Once, Grace stood in this apartment and refused to let a Chakravanti Adept put her in her place. Now, she's refusing to let William do the same, even if said 'place' is above him. Nobody does that to Grace Evans and doesn't get an earful about why she's not going to put up with it.

"I'd like to stay friends. I would," she says, but shakes her head in response to her own words, like she doesn't necessarily believe that's possible.

William
"You don't seem to fall flat on your face," he corrects, "because your weaknesses and your faults and your flaws aren't something that you readily present to people. But you do make mistakes, and you do have things that go wrong in your life... but you don't seem like you let people in and see those moments when you are hurting or when you need someone.

"You are human. You are a person, but part of that is knowing that we aren't solitary creatures. I asked you how you were, and even knowing now we both want to be friends with each other, you can't tell me how you're doing and I'm having to piece it out.

"I'm shit for reading you. Are you hurt because one of your friends doesn't see eye-to-eye with you? Are you scared because you made a mistake and your safety and the safety of others might be compromised? Are you eating? Are you sleeping? Are you stuck reliving every moment where you messed up and wishing you could do it over?" Faster and faster, built up and animated, and he looks at her, looks at her not like an apprentice looks at someone who is more well-versed than they but looks at her in the way that one looks at another human being that has defended her very right to be seen as human.

"What we see and what is real are two different things. You don't get to tell me that I don't get to admire and respect someone who gets up and tries even when she makes mistakes."

"I am allowed to think that you are remarkable, Grace Evans."

Grace
"Yes, yes, yes, yes..." she counts on her fingers. "No."

"You're allowed to think whatever you want. I'm not telling you you can't respect me," she says, sighs again. Pauses a while, because she wants to make sure the words are right. "I can also think that it makes me severely uncomfortable if you're disrespecting yourself in order to do so -- like you think respect is a zero-sum game or something."

He wants to know about her life. Her mouth twitches to the side in the process of thinking.

"I'm dating Mike," she says. Tries to keep her eyes off of him, because what she's saying is something very personal, intensely private. It makes sense to start with the hardest thing, and work her way out from there.

"We... just kind of... happened. I didn't know how much danger I was in, at the time. The Artist was... trying to drive him insane. Made a really good effort at that, you know? Eventually, he just shut me out, went and killed the thing, didn't let me know -- trying to protect me, I think. We're okay, now, though I don't know how long it's going to last. He's... all over the world at any given time. I'm busy too.

"I haven't talked to my mom in I don't even know how many years, because she has always treated me like I was an incompetent waste of human flesh -- probably because I didn't know how to even talk to people when I was a kid. So, when you say you feel like I don't respect you or value you, I have think... Do I? Am I my mom?" She puts both hands on her face, presses them into her eyes. "Like... God, no. I... I don't want to be that to you."

She straightens up, drags her hands across her face, looks off into a corner. "Kalen and I went to Australia because we knew we needed a break -- something to focus on before the shit hit the fan. And lo, the shit, it has struck the blades. Every day I look out for something -- some hint that the War hasn't yet spread here, because if and when it does, a lot of people are going to die.

"You want me to go on? I mean... That's a lot, I think."

William
He's listening to her like listening to her is the most important thing that he is going to do today. He's listening to her in a way that he has probably never paid attention to anything aside from his magickal studies and even then, Kalen can attest that this young man's butterfly attention span can be all over the place and is hard to keep for long. He's making an effort you see. He's trying. Shutting out the hum of the refrigerator and the subtle tick of a clock and the fact that he knows which of the floor boards on his floor are squeaky or uneven and if he leans wrong he can provoke them to song.

"I can completely understand that... and I genuinely don't want to make you uncomfortable."

He listens to the rest of it, about Mike and Grace's foiree into dating. About how he ran off and left her out and didn't tell her something- which he knows to be the greatest of Gracely sins- so that he could keep her safe. Listens to the tales of how she loves humanity, how she doesn't want people to get hurt even though she knows it won't happen. Even though she doesn't quite fit in with people and doesn't quite intermesh with the world very well.

"People are fuckin' hard to get, and talking to them and interacting with them and doing all the little weird things that people lump into what is standard human behavior is nuanced as fuck and you aren't born knowing that nuance. Nobody is. And having someone who is supposed to love you and care for you and instill that you have an intrinsic value treat you like you are a waste is a genuinely horrible human being.

"Like I said, you're not a total shitlord so I doubt that even with years of intensive how to be a rampaging asshole therapy, I doubt you could ever be your mother."

A beat.

"I want you to go on about whatever you want to go on about, and I am genuinely sorry I didn't ask these questions sooner."

Grace
"Thing is, I don't really want to go on about things. I never do. It feels really... wrong," she says. "Anyway."

"Did it help?"

Does it help, to see her, not as a digital angel sitting among the sigils? As a person, with loves and doubts and fears and a past? He tries to comfort her, tells her all these things -- that she is not her mother. That wasn't really the point of all that, not to Grace.

"There's like, three other people in Denver who know Mike and I are even a thing, and two of those found out on accident. You're right, I... really don't open up to people. Maybe that makes me not all that... personable? Makes me seem larger-than-life to you? I don't know."

William
"Why does it geel wrong?"

He pauses.

"I mean, I get it. I don't know if it's this way for you, but I've gotten a little gun shy about telling people about me or things that I do or big developments. It's a carefully curated self-image, when you only see what people want you to see you're left with holes that you have to fill in yourself," he tells her, "sometimes, the blanks we fill in aren't flattering."

There is a pause, "it's something that I notice. That... when people have certain abilities or are capable, the less openly they seem to present their scars and then fragile pieces. I've met adepts who have fucked up relationships with their dad and Sera doesn't seem to show when she's hurting and Ian never presented anything other than polished. Like we haven't all seen utter disasters and like we have to point out the scars in case someone missed them when we got them.

"I think that, sometimes, magick makes us less human."

Grace
"I was like this before I knew what Magick was, man," she says. "Isn't it possible that sometimes people are just of the type that they don't want to go around spilling their guts all the time?"

Or, maybe, she was just never quite human to begin with. Magick didn't make it any better.

This particular topic has her shifting on her knees. Uncomfortable.

William
"I have a deep and sinking feeling that you were probably gifted as fuck as a child and didn't find a lot in the way of peers. Awakening was probably fucking liberation," he hypothesizes.

"I don't think it's uncommon for people to want to keep things to themselves. It's the balance between figuring out what is healthy disclosure and what is unhealthy that's the hard part."

Will takes a second, spends some time to himself. Almost looks guilty for a minute, a second, a blip on the radar and he readjusts again. Considers again, because if she's sharing something personal he should pony up. He wants to and-

"I can't judge. I always figure that people have enough shit on their plates so they don't need to hear about my past bullshit so I just... don't. Anymore."

Grace
Oh, William. She blinks. Yes, the hypothesis may be quite on the mark, and no, she is not going to confirm it. She's been placed above other people, below other people -- pretty much all her life. And neither is a good place. The only way to meet someone is on the level.

Instead, she shifts again, uncomfortably.

"I know, when you Awakened, you thought you were insane. That... had to have been rough. I was so lucky with mine."

William
know, when you Awakened, you thought you were insane.
"And so did everyone else. I awakened when I was sixteen and spent three years not knowing what the fuck was going on on top ofthe constant barrage of literal ghostly bullshit I have dealt with my entire life," he ran a hand through his hair. "it took, what? Ten? Twenty minutes upon meeting Kalen before he let the magickal cat out of the bag? And look how things with Kalen and I turned out."

a second.

"If it was that easy to pick people up out of a crowd, why did nobody bother with me?"

He stops again.

"The Order didn't want me, Grace," he says, "when it came down to finding another mentor because Kalen couldn't-" or wouldn't. Perhaps William sees it as a wouldn't now "-teach me I had to fight like fucking Hell to get them to pay attention. And they're not the only tradition that tried to decide they were going to pass on me."

but they were the only Tradition that William very vehemently refused to be passed over for.


Grace
Grace doesn't like people speaking ill of Kalen. He picked her up, made her realize it was going to be okay when she was a scared Apprentice, dealing with the fallout of trauma. If William were any other person, her response would be sarcasm or anger or something to the effect that he doesn't know Kalen.

Thing is, he knows Kalen. Or should know him.

"Okay. The Order doesn't want me either," Grace says, shrugs. "You want to be accepted by everybody, but you won't accept yourself, because people don't accept you -- is that it? Is it better now, now that you're in the cool people's club? I don't think it is, is it? Because it doesn't work like that. You don't get self-confidence from other people."

William
"The answer that I was hoping for in this instance was, William I'm sorry that things were shitty and I'm glad you're getting your shit straightened out, hope it turns out well" he says. Flat.

"I told you that because it's a big deal to me and it is part of who I am and I wanted to tell you this because I feel comfortable with you and then you pull this shit," William snapped at her, grits his teeth and doesn't stand up just yet. Doesn't storm off or tell her to get out or throw some kind of tantrum. "Secrets and self disclosure and honesty is a big deal to me. And I don't broadcast my damage and doubts to everyone Grace, and the fact that I tell you something and then you threw it back in my face is kinda fucking shitty."

Grace
This is why people don't do this, William. Why they wait to know whether someone is going to hurt them or help them before allowing their guts to be prodded.

Grace was never subtle, always sharp and biting, jarring and wild.

"I pull what shit? I... Was just trying to get you to see... Fuck, Elijah. This is why it feels wrong," she says, puts her hands up into the air. "I said what I said because I like you and I want to help you, but I suck at being... not blunt."

There's a muttered curse under her breath.

"I told you that, because... Not being accepted by other people is not a part of who you are. Who you are is defined by only one person, ever. I threw that back at you because it is a lie you tell yourself to hurt yourself, and I don't like seeing you suffer, okay?"

Damn, but he is a fucking insecure wreck. With an army. Not good.

William
[Hmmn, can I see that thought process? Per+empathy]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 2, 5, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )

Grace
[She definitely means well. Grace can lie, but doesn't choose to, on the whole -- so that 'I like you and want to help you' feels about as genuine as anything else she says. It does seem as though she is floundering in a well-meaning attempt to kick his ass into gear. But she's also disappointed that she can't seem to get through to him. What he wants isn't something she can give.

She's concerned. Perhaps a bit too concerned about that.]

William
"It's like, I know you mean well, but it's like walking into a fucking punch dude, but it's a punch that came because you wanted to teach me kung fu to make me a better person and I wasn't fucking expecting kung fu lessons to start immediately," he gets up at this point, starts to head to the fridge because, even if she wasn't going to be drinking, it would appear that he was on board for it.

"I think I would benefit from a code word, like, to preface when I know you're about to lay the well meaning smack down on me... like, you start with "I know kung fu" and then go on from there." He retrieves a beer. Lingers in the fridge a little longer than he had intended if only because he needed to take a breather.

Opens the beer and starts to meander back in. The apartment is bare. He looks around at it and, for a second, he looks distant. Saddened. Exhales and pushes it back and goes about his damned business because they're supposed to be having conversations. "We had very different experiences here, and I am very glad that the one's you've had have made you the person you are today."

Takes a pull off his beer. Sits back down in the floor.

"Don't stress... neither of us are defective."

William
"... and yes, I recognize that I am insecure as fuck and am working on that."

Grace
She watches him from her perch on the floor. He's stood up, he's going over to get a beer. She's content to sit there.

"I know kung fu. You never expect kung fu lessons before they start."

He opens the beer, wanders back, and her eyes track him. "No. We're not defective."

Well, certainly not any more than normal.

William
"I usually don't figure it out until I'm flat on my back going damn, someone just kicked my ass and then a week later someone is like you know I was trying to teach you kung fu, right?"

Reaches out just in case she wants a drink.

"You wanna know what the biggest travesty about losing the office is? No laser tag. I know someone who could probably get in and steal the laser tag equipment, but she's hard to get ahold of."

Grace
Grace's eyes meet the floor when he talks about losing the office. She misses the place. Misses her office, with the constellations painted on the walls, and her sleeping couch, and a bouquet of flowers in the kitchen that will never wilt.

She even misses the cats trying to eat her plant.

"Mmm. I don't yet have a place to put it all."

Yet.

William
"We can figure something out."

AS though his saying it made it truth.