Talking In Circles

Who: Brian and Hunt
Where: Brian's house
When: Shortly after school gets out

While first on his list of things to do probably should have been getting in touch with Hunt, the man had school to teach, and Brian was perfectly content to put things off. And then put them off some more. To be perfectly honest, he was dreading having to talk to Hunt again, with Mya's advice behind him, because he hadn't the faintest idea how to begin.

So instead, he was trying-- and, thus far, failing-- to get the spirit world closed off to him again. He had the curtains open in his living room, letting in the sunlight that had finally come back-- though not warmth; damn, but he hated winters here, they started to early-- and giving him a good view of the street while he tried, from safe and warm inside, to make the slight overlay of spirit realm go away. Torziel sat with him, but the only help he was being was to keep his feet warm, otherwise only making snide comments now and then about his inability.

It'd been a great afternoon. Really.

Hunt headed up the driveway determinedly. He'd told himself that he was giving his friend until the end of school to make that promised phonecall and when it hadn't come - and he'd left his cell on his class, even against his own normally strict rules - he headed straight over. Something was wrong with Brian and Hunt was officially worried. So, he wanted to know what was up and he wasn't leaving until he found out. That in mind, he stepped up to the door and knocked, firmly.

Brian had seen Hunt coming up the walk and had enjoyed a moment of private panic as he limped over to the door to open it for him. He was not ready for this-- no way, no how. Hence the putting off.

"This is why I prefer to just be inscrutable and shed on people," Torziel commented, sounding more amused than anything.

"Insc-- whatever is the last thing you are," Brian grumbled at him, then put on a slightly lop-sided smile as he opened the door. "Hey, man." Didn't expect to hear from you so soon, he thought, but didn't quite say. Sounded wrong.

"Hey - you said you'd call," Hunt said, mostly brushing past the pleasantries and getting on with the reason he was here. He was worried and he looked it as well as he stepped inside without asking - again, something he didn't normally do, but this didn't count as 'normal', not by a long stretch.

"Yeah, and you were in classes until, what, ten minutes ago? Fifteen at most?" Brian shut the door behind Hunt as Torziel gave the newcomer's shoes a cursory sniff. He was a little off-balance at the man's uncharacteristic abruptness and arrival-- but at the same time, he'd half-expected this sort of thing, that concerned expression, given how Hunt had tried to turn the "problem" on him the day before. Just... he hadn't expected it yet. If at all, without prodding, given Hunt had brushed off and forgotten other things that'd happened. "In a hurry to talk?"

"Yeah - I want to know you're okay. I'm worried about you, man - you said you'd call and... Sure, I've been in class, but there was like the rest of yesterday and you could have left a message - hell, my phone's been on. You left so suddenly yesterday," he pointed out.

It still boggled Brian a little bit that Hunt hadn't noticed that his friend had been glowing and hadn't commented on it. "I'm fine'" he said tiredly. "C'mon, sit down somewhere and we'll talk. You want something to drink?" Because Brian sure did, and he headed into the kitchen to get that something. Torziel stuck with Hunt, hovering around his ankles as if trying to trip him, though Brian was sure that if he was trying Hunt would he on his face right now.

Hunt leaned down and scratched the kitty behind his ears, muttering a hello to the familiar animal as he followed Brian into the kitchen, treading carefully as the cat shadowed him - he didn't want to hurt the animal. "I'd kill for a coffee if you've got any on," Hunt told him. He wasn't really in the mood for anything strong right as of now and a brush off of 'I'm fine' did little to ease his worry.

Torziel looked a cross between pleased and irritated by the petting, which game him a slightly cross-eyed look as he followed Hunt in. In any other situation, Brian might've laughed at it. "Don't have any on, but it'll only take a minute to start a bit." He did that first, setting enough water for two cups to percolate before getting himself a beer and popping the cap for a quick sip. Really needed to cut this drinking habit. Maybe tomorrow. One this Hunt mess was sorted out-- if it could be. "Look, man," he began, leaning back on the counter to look at his friend. "First things first, I'm sorry I got pissed at you yesterday. Whatever's goin' on, it's not your fault." He thought. Probably. If he and Mya had guessed right, anyway. The guy couldn't help his own defense mechanisms, could he?

Hunt blinked. "That's okay," Hunt said, accepting the apology. "Sometimes we all strike out at the people around us - I didn't take it personally, really," he assured his friend. "I'm just - I'm worried about you, man."

That's funny, I was gonna say the same thing about you. "Because I got pissed at you?" Brian asked with a faint smile over the top of the bottle. "Or somethin' else?" Maybe Hunt's opinion of the situation would give him some kind of opening. Or maybe it'd just help him know where the hell the man was coming from, which would be helpful, in and of itself.

"Well, not just the fact you got pissed at me - it was the fact you walked out on me that was the clincher, Brian," Hunt told him, leaning against the worktop and crossing his arms over his chest. He was sure that there was something wrong with his friend - it was the massive overreaction he'd had to a nothing of a conversation. It wasn't like they'd really been talking about anything particularly important and then all of a sudden, Brian was throwing a hissy fit and storming out. At least, that was how Hunt remembered it.

"You seriously didn't notice anything weird during or after that chat," Brian said rather than asked, brows up over at Hunt. "Nothing at all." Anyone who'd noticed the damn glowing would have understood the walking out. Or, you know, wanted to know what the hell it was about. Hunt was either blind, distracted to the point of obliviousness, or... somehow repressing weird things, not just scary things? How the hell would light remind him of anything vampire-related, which was what he'd been assuming the whole... forcibly forgetting things was about?

"Apart from your behaviour?" Hunt asked him, raising an eyebrow. "Not a damn thing - so, look, cut me a break here. What's this all about?" he pressed, feeling like he was really missing something here.

He really, really was missing something. Like half the conversation they'd had, or something, and things right in front of his face. Brian ran a hand through his hair, and took a minute to turn off the pot and pour Hunt his cup of coffee before he answered. "Hunt, what do you remember us talking about yesterday, before I got angry and left?" he asked carefully, holding the mug out for him to take. "I promise, the question's got a point."

Hunt thought back, then shrugged, "We were talking about Mutt. She went missing and I haven't been able to find her," he said, easily, though without much bounce. He'd lost his dog. That was sad, though he couldn't bring up any deeper emotion about it than that. She'd run off, or something - it was a while ago now, he knew. He'd gotten over it, though Brian had been pushing the point yesterday.

"And you were pretty stressed out when I reminded you she was gone," Brian said, nodding. At least there was something to work with. "A week ago-- a week and a couple days, now. You were acting like you'd forgotten about her. And you ignored the rest of my question, which was how the hell you were managing to brush off us being attacked." And surviving some very strange circumstances to get them out of trouble and back home again-- without comment. But he wasn't going to bring up the supernatural part. Yet, anyway. "It didn't seem like dealing with shit, to me, when you just pretend it doesn't happen." Or forget. But that one was harder to say outright, and maybe not a good idea to say outright, anyway. Hell, he had no idea how to handle this.

A week? It seemed longer than that. Maybe his friend was remembering it wrong - yet it seemed vitally important that he didn't question that right now, just that he should nod and smile. It didn't occur to Hunt that that was entirely at odds with how he'd felt coming into this conversation, when he'd been willing to do anything to get to the bottom of what was wrong with Brian. "I didn't pretend it didn't happen," Hunt told him, which was as far as he was willing to go. "She's missing - I'm looking for her," he added, frowning. The fact he'd entirely ignored the issue of the attack totally escaped his conscious notice.

It didn't escape Brian's. He also didn't know that Hunt was really looking for her that hard, given that he'd heard no updates except when he bugged Hunt for them. Like now. He wasn't sure he wasn't being bullshitted again-- unintentionally, he reminded himself firmly. Hunt didn't mean it. "And being attacked?" he prodded. "C'mon, Hunt, nobody walks away from something like that without questions, concerns-- nobody goes to a party with the guy who got you out of it, the very next day, and doesn't mention it at all." True, Brian hadn't pressed him, at the time just wanting a happy day for once, but looking back now, it seemed even weirder, and fit in with everything he was seeing now.

Hunt looked uncomfortable at that, his posture closing in on itself, shifting a little, closing down without him even noticing. "That? Was just - just some kids. Panic of the moment, seemed worse than it was - came away unhurt, it was nothing," he told Brian, speaking a little faster than normal. "And - at your party, it wasn't - you don't dwell over things like that, do you?"

That had definitely hit a nerve. "No, Hunt," Brian said gently, trying to break it easy. "It wasn't just 'some kids'. We could've died. We probably would've if I hadn't been there and you hadn't smashed that v--" No, no. Don't spring that one on him yet. "That woman's face to get her off you. When you didn't even bring it up-- if not at the party, then later-- it worried me. It still does. You don't remember it right, Hunt. I don't know why." And that didn't even touch on the
supernatural things he hadn't demanded an explanation for, which was even more disturbing-- but he still had no idea how to broach that.

Hunt held up his hands, defensively. "Okay, okay - we ran into some trouble. Maybe it was worse than I remember it being. Maybe it wasn't just me panicking. But look, we're fine - nobody's hurt. definitely nobody's killed and we're both fine. There's no need to make a big deal out of this, right? But, look - thanks for everything you did. If that's what's missing?" he asked, wondering if this was somehow all about him not showing enough gratitude or something.

"Hell, man, that's not-- I don't care if you thank me or not." Sure, thanks would be nice-- but he really didn't care, at this point, if he ever had. What he cared about was the total lack of discussion, as if nothing had happened. "That's not the point. The point is that you've got great gaping holes in what you remember, and blind spots the size of Texas in what you'll talk about and acknowledge, and that worries me."

Hunt frowned. "Er, no - I don't think so," he told his friend. "You're imagining things..." He had to be, because Hunt really didn't think that he was avoiding, or forgetting anything. It just seemed that Brian was blowing everything up out of all proportion.

Brian made a frustrated noise and scrubbed at his face with a hand. He'd known this was going to be frustrating, that he wouldn't deal with this well, and he'd been right. He already felt at wits' end, completely blank on how to continue, how to convince Hunt that there was something wrong, that he needed help.

"I can bite him," Torziel said musingly from Hunt's feet, giving his leg a speculative look. "Or shed the seeming. That would be hard for him to overlook." Brian's sharp look silenced the demon-cat immediately, and he tried to look innocent. At least by now Brian knew that nobody understood the damn thing unless said damn thing wanted them to, so Hunt wouldn't be jumping and looking around for the scary voice out of nowhere.

Hell, maybe that would help. "Hunt," Brian tried again, "have I ever struck you as an imaginative kind of guy? I'm a cook, for god's sakes, a former welder. Why-- how would I be imagining things like this? And then bothering you with them? What would be the point?"

"Creative - you're creative," Hunt pointed out. "You have to be, in your line of work. And I don't know what would be the point. That, my friend, is what has me worried about you," he told Brian, patiently, feeling like they were just going round and round in circles here, with each of them seemingly blaming the other. And since Hunt knew there was nothing wrong with him, that only left one option.

Funny, that was exactly what Brian was thinking. "There's nothing wrong with me, Hunt," Brian groaned. "Nothing worse than a little lack of sleep. Hell, I've had Marlowe staying here the past week. If there was something wrong with me, believe me, she'd have no problems telling me. Or Mya-- she's good at pointing out when there's something out of place." And there was Domino, but bringing that up would either derail this conversation even worse, or cement it in Hunt's mind that there was something wrong with Brian. In that, at least, he'd have been right. "I've g-got plenty of people in my life checking me out for problems, Hunt. The problem here isn't mine."

"Then there's nothing wrong with either of us and we're just standing here blaming each other for phantoms," Hunt concluded. "Because there's nothing wrong with me, other than I don't tend towards being a drama queen." He was getting tired of this now, frustrated and he didn't quite remember the point that had been there in the first place.

This was getting absolutely nowhere. Maybe Brian needed backup for something like this, or maybe he needed something drastic to shock Hunt into the truth, or maybe he just wasn't the person to be trying to make someone see they needed help. Especially because being called a "drama queen", even obliquely, was nearly enough to make him see red-- the only reason he managed not to was because he knew Hunt didn't mean it. He had to cling to that. He had to. If he had to actually address the comment, he would have said something he'd regret.

So instead, he took a long drink from his beer-- wished he had more-- and after he was sure he could sound civil, said, "Fine, whatever. I'm sick of arguing."

"I still say I could fix him," Torziel muttered, which Brian ignored pointedly.

"Fine," Hunt said, uncomfortable with giving in but doing it anyway because it seemed, in his gut, to be the right thing to do. This whole situation had 'best forgotten' written all over it. He should have just let it go before he even got here, but he just hadn't been able to, yet that had got him exactly nowhere, had it?

There was a moment of awkward silence before Torziel broke it by pouncing Hunt's ankle-- as promised, Brian had just been too distracted to notice-- and quite happily digging in with claws and teeth. "Tor', dammit!" Brian exclaimed, setting his beer down on the counter and having every intention of storming over there to get him off before he destroyed a perfectly good pair of Hunt's pants-- or worse, his leg itself.

Hunt swore, loudly as the cat attacked his leg - and actually seemed to be attacking as well, rather than just playfully swatting. He kicked trying to shake the damn animal off, not exactly a fan of putting his bare hand anywhere near the furry thing - at least his legs were covered by his pants, which gave him some, if obvious scant by the feel of it, protection.

If there was one thing most people could agree on about Torziel, it was that he was big for a housecat-- Brian's father's explanation had always been that he was part Maine Coon, in there somewhere-- and he wasn't going anywhere without a fight. A little kicking only made him growl and dig himself in harder. Brian limped over and grabbed the scruff of his neck, hauling back for all he was worth. "Tor', you don't let go, I swear I'll--"

The demon-cat looked up at him evilly and said around Hunt's trousers, "You'll what?"

Any threat that actually worked, Brian couldn't say in front of Hunt. Glaring down at the insolent little beast, Brian didn't bother to threaten, he just did: the one Torziel liked least, dropping the temperature in his hind end so low, and so rapidly, that it felt like he'd suddenly been frozen. Letting out an earsplitting yowl, Torziel let go and bolted, tearing free of fabric, flesh, and fingers all in one lunge. Brian let him go, glaring after him.

Hunt, naturally, caught none of that, his mind rejigging everything so that it simply seemed that Brian had pulled his cat off Hunt's leg. He shook it out, then leaned over, pulling the leg of his pants up to look at the damage - and there was some, heavy scratches down both sides oozing small droplets of blood. "Shit," he swore, grabbing a chair and sitting down. "Thanks for that - any chance I could have a cloth or something?" he asked his friend.

"Yeah...." Brian went for the nearest kitchen towel, made a face at it, and changed course to get some paper towels for him. They'd be cleaner, and who the hell knew how clean Torziel's claws were, so Hunt could probably use all the "clean" he could get. "Sorry about that. My
cat's kind of psycho, sometimes...." Or, y'know, sentient, demonic, and unpredictable. Which came across as about the same thing. "How bad did he getcha?" He snagged his beer again and came to take the other chair at the kitchen table, holding out a few of the paper towels.

Hunt took the towels and started dabbing at his leg. "Well, I'm bleeding - but somehow I don't think I'll scar," he joked, pulling a face at the scratches. They hurt like hell though, that was for sure. Probably something to do with pain receptors being near the surface of the skin or something - cuts always seemed to be more painful when they just scratched the surface. But then again, Hunt mused, he didn't have that much experience of the other, deeper kind. "I'll live. And cats'll be cats I guess," he added, good naturedly.

Brian stared at him a little, though he did at least try to be unobtrusive about it. Apparently that was that, they were friends still, and Hunt was going to act like nothing had just happened. Hunt's ability to bounce back from things had always impressed him, but this was just bordering on ridiculous. He certainly wasn't commenting on Torziel letting him go and fleeing apparently of his own accord. "What just happened, man?" he asked, at the risk of bringing up the whole "fight" again. He wanted to know, though, what Hunt had actually seen-- or what he actually remembered. "Just humor me for a minute and tell me, be detailed and shit."

"We were standing, talking, and your cat attacked me for no damn reason at all. I tried to remove him without losing another limb to those claws - you really should have them clipped, you know - and then you grabbed him by the scruff, pulled him off and he took flight, probably offended that something bigger than him weighed in. And I'm bleeding," he added, pointedly, holding up the tissue and showing said blood.

Though he chuckled and reached over to pat Hunt's shoulder in a commiserating sort of way, Brian's mind was trying to work too quickly for him to keep up. That wasn't what had happened. Not all of it. No mention of the aborted threatening, or of the chill from Torziel's tail-- which really should have been noticeable, even if Hunt hadn't wanted to mention it lest he be thought crazy-- and Brian hadn't been the one to get Torziel off, Tor' had run on his own. Unless Hunt was deliberately leaving things out, what did that mean... that Hunt literally wasn't seeing everything that happened?

God, this was fucked up. He was seeing things that might not even be a big deal, might not be part of the problem, a problem which might not be there at all-- if Hunt was to be believed. So Brian didn't say anything about it, not then. He needed to think, and he needed to talk this out with somebody who wouldn't try to tell him he was the crazy one. He instead downed the last of his beer-- wished he had more; calling Ash was happening the minute Hunt left, dammit-- and stood up again. "Let me get you some bandaids, or something."

"Thanks, man - appreciated," Hunt told him, going back to dabbing at his wounds. he didn't know what that had been about, but apparently Brian had accepted his explanation - though, of course, Hunt didn't see any reason why the guy shouldn't have done so. For now, though, he was just glad to let it go and his mind was much more gaged towards hoping that the scratches didn't get infected.

Brian was already thinking about that, and when he came back with a handful of bandaids a moment later-- after locking Torziel in the bedroom-- he also had a tube of antibiotics that his father had "tampered" with. The thing never ran out, and it was probably the best stuff you could get at keeping away infection. Quite likely because of goddamn Torziel and his scratches. At least the man had done something useful, right? "Here, be generous with that and you ought to be fine. It's good stuff."

Hunt took the tube and rubbed some on the cuts, before covering them with the band-aids and letting the leg of his pants drop back down again. He stood a little cautiously, the muscle protesting a little, but they were only cat scratches at the end of the day. "Well, I guess I should hobble on home - did you want to get together for a drink later in the week?" he asked, as though they hadn't been off-kilter for this entire conversation.

Though he dearly wanted to shake his head at Hunt continuing to brush things off, a set date later meant he'd be forced to deal with things-- not to mention give him a deadline for asking around about what the hell could be going on, and whether he really was or wasn't making a big deal out of something that wasn't. "Sure, man. Friday? Or you think you can avoid a hangover on a school night to meet up earlier?" He grinned a bit.

Hunt grinned. "I wish, but we're playing catch up from the school being closed, so I've gotta keep on top of my game. Friday's good though - I'll probably need it by them," he admitted, starting to make his way across the kitchen.

"Figured as much," Brian nodded, limping after him wearily. "Friday it is, then. Take care of yourself 'til then, a'right?" Right then Friday seemed a comfortably long way off. He could find out plenty before then, or at least try to find out plenty-- and maybe even have time to just not think about it. Not thinking about it seemed easier. He was sick of thinking.