[ Ephemera answers the door in his civilian clothes. Long sleeves and jeans, all flecked with paint. It's a choice he's made. Not happily, but it's a line in the metaphorical sand. A choice to talk instead of fight, because it's already been proven how the latter ends. And he cannot be that person here. Not again. And it's because of that choice that he doesn't immediately throw something at Washington when he sees the man's face. ]
David, huh?
[ There's venom in his tone, though maybe not as much as expected. Ephemera shakes his head, feeling foolish and too tired to do anything real about it.
This is where they stand now. This is how it's going to happen.
He steps back. He lets them in.
It's standard, as apartments around here go. Not many personal touches. All of Ephemera's paintings are shut away in his room. He hasn't so much as looked at Angela's since he got back. That's another line he's drawn. Her space is her own, and he won't break that.
Drake is there, hanging back but still present, and Ephemera breathes out. Flexes his hands, watching the rings tattooed there as they shift. One for each brother, each sister, that he lost. And then one for Connie. ]
no subject
David, huh?
[ There's venom in his tone, though maybe not as much as expected. Ephemera shakes his head, feeling foolish and too tired to do anything real about it.
This is where they stand now. This is how it's going to happen.
He steps back. He lets them in.
It's standard, as apartments around here go. Not many personal touches. All of Ephemera's paintings are shut away in his room. He hasn't so much as looked at Angela's since he got back. That's another line he's drawn. Her space is her own, and he won't break that.
Drake is there, hanging back but still present, and Ephemera breathes out. Flexes his hands, watching the rings tattooed there as they shift. One for each brother, each sister, that he lost. And then one for Connie. ]