Where: Coffee shop
What: Damien stops in for coffee and non-inuendo-loaded conversation (*gasp* it is possible!)
Status: Unfinished (I think?)
Rating: PG-13 for Damien's potty-mouth
It had been a typical Friday evening; the usual rush had hit as people were getting out of work or class and heading out. Now, however it was back to being relatively quiet, leaving Tristan time to work on grading the essays for the class he was a GA for. Hearing the front bell ring, he looked up and smiled slightly when he saw Damien’s familiar face.
“Hey Damien, how’s it going? Haven’t seen you around in a while,” he said as the tall metalworker entered the coffee shop.
Damien needed coffee. He needed very strong coffee, as his head was currently pounding. He'd had way too much to drink the other day. "Blargh." The metalworker replied. "I need a really, really strong coffee. How're you?"
“Double shot espresso then? Do you want the Irish treatment for it or is that the cause?” Tristan asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m alright, I supposed. Schoolwork and working here has been keeping me pretty busy. That, and taking care of Schrödinger.”
"Kittehhhhh." Damien grinned widely. "And, yeah, that's most definitely the cause of it, but I never say no to a good Irish coffee." He cracked his neck and sighed loudly. "Did you make any progress on getting your Master's approved?"
Giving Damien a look that clearly said ‘You are a crazy drunk man, I shall try not to laugh at you,’ Tristan nodded. “Right. Irish coffee it is,” he busied himself with making the drink, size large of course. Setting it on the counter, he punched the order into the register, “That’ll be $3.50. And I have actually made some progress on it. After meeting with my advisor, we decided to shift the focus to mostly on the literature aspect, moving the psychology to some more like a minor. The board seems to be more satisfied with that, and I should hopefully have all of the paperwork approved and submitted by the end of the term.” Walking around to the other side of the counter, he leant back against it, one leg bent at the knee, grateful for the distraction.
Laughing quietly, Damien paid up and ran a hand through his hair. "That's great. I'm glad to hear that you made progress on that. And I am not a drunk, I am a connoisseur of good alcohol. There is a very fine line there."
Tristan smirked back, “Sure sure, if you say so. Although I’m sure Leo would agree with you. Speaking of, I’m sure you’ve had more dealings with the others than I have. The only ones I see regularly are Shin and his boyfriend thing…Alex? Something like that,” he shrugged.
"Aidan, actually. I've had the pleasure of meeting him." The sarcasm, it burns! "Hmm... Let's see... Xavier, Brent, Myself, Vincent... Isaac, Aiden, Leo, and Shin."
"... And you." <3~
“Ah, right…that’s what it was. Yeah. He’s an interesting one.” Moar sarcasm! “I don’t think I’ve met most of them. Just Aiden, Leo, Shin, you obviously, briefly met Del.”
Another shrug and a smirk, “Guess I’m a little out of the loop huh?”
"Oh, right. Del." Damien rubbed the back of his neck. "You'd... Probably want to meet Vincent. He's pretty relevant to your interests. But we should keep him away from Aidan."
“Oh?” Tristan asked, interest piqued. “And I think there are a number of us who could stand to have less interaction with certain fiery neophytes,” he added, making a face.
"Yes, well, not all of us died from getting chakrammed to the back." Damien sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm honestly quite worried about how he'll react."
“If it wasn’t a chakram, it was the result of his backstabbing ways,” he replied, feeling suddenly snarky. “And who’s reaction are you worried about? Even or Axel?” Tristan brought a hand up to first rub his shoulder and then began to massage his temple as he felt a sudden headache threatening to take hold.
The metalworker shot Tristan a very serious gaze and steepled his fingers. "To be honest, both. I'm worried about Aidan being overly smug and retardedly jerky, and I'm worried about Vincent flipping out and attacking Aidan."
Nodding, Tristan moved to sit at one of the tables. It’s not like there’s anyone else here. Thankfully, I can close shop in twenty minutes. “That’s…a very good point. If they’re anything like their past selves. Shit,” he rubbed his eyes, wondering if his contacts were acting up again. “Letting them meet is a bad idea, I think. It…was disconcerting enough for me, and I wasn’t literally stabbed in the back.”
He sighed deeply, “So, aside from having to keep those two apart, why do you think Vincent and I should meet?” he asked, returning to his previous question, wanting to get away from uncomfortable subjects and foggy memories.
"Well.... Xavier, for one. He's our superior. Brent's in denial- if you do meet him, it's best that you don't push him on anything." Damien drank some coffee. Mmm, delicious irish coffee.
Tristan nodded, taking mental notes. He couldn’t help it, he was a researcher at heart. “Ah right. Again, understandable. Hell, I still haven’t completely decided how I feel about this; I’m horribly curious, but it’s kinda like poking at a sore tooth.”
"..... That is a most interesting simile." Arching an eyebrow slightly, he sighed. "I'm worried. It's kind of like I'm losing myself... Del's told me not to worry, but... there are a lot of things that I don't believe that come out of Del's mouth."
“Hmm, Del is a most interesting character,” Tristan murmured, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them. His hair seemed to suddenly shorten and shift color, one side falling forward over his right eye. A couple of heartbeats later and it returned to its normal color and position of being tied back in a neat ponytail.
“The mind is a funny thing….reality can be so easily shifted, taking on the desires of the individual or an outside source.”
"....." Damien just stared for a second. "... Dude, what the fuck."
Blink. Blink blink. “Mmm? What? It’s true and you know it is Dilan,” voice calm, Tristan tilted his head slightly, studying his companion. Another blink of his eyes, and he saw a shadowy image of Dilan overlaying Damien. He shut his eyes, shaking his head briefly.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
He reached out and brushed a hand over Tristan's hair. "That was... interesting." Damien shook his head. "For a second, I could've sworn...."
Jumping a little at the sudden touch, Tristan frowned slightly, his confusion readily apparent. “What? What do you mean?”
"You looked different. Like someone I used to..." He shook his head. "Y'know what... nevermind. Probably just the alcohol." Damien murmured, leaning back in his chair.
“Oh,” he replied, still a little confused, a part of him felt a little empty for a brief moment. Sighing, he roused up his usual smirk, “And people wonder why I don’t often drink. It does screwy things to your mind, among other things.”
"Heh. You should have seen Vincent and I last night." Damien looked up at the ceiling. "He found something at his parent's house... that used to belong to Vexen. We were examining it... Most fascinating, actually. An entire world contained within a book."
Tristan inhaled sharply, intrigued and surprised. “An entire world? ...but…how? You mean it’s really real? Please tell me there’s some chance I could see this?” he tried to keep the insatiable curiousity out of his voice, but failed miserably. Such a book was a true treasure, and conjured memories of another book, one that was tied just to one of his other selves. Zexion. Zexion had a book…one that had incredible power.