7849/The Perfect Drug

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The Perfect Drug
Date of Scene: 16 September 2021
Location: 2D - Terry's Apartment
Synopsis: Terry comes back to Kian, who has been entertaining himself with chocolate and Harvey Birdman.
Cast of Characters: Kian, Terry O'Neil




Kian has posed:
    Kían hasn't been living on Earth for a year and a half and learned nothing.
    For example, the mysteries of the hand-held remote are no longer quite so mysterious, even if it isn't anywhere near as convenient as just flicking a mental order to the house control systems telling it which feed to show, and where in the house to show it.
    We shan't even start on how inadequate two-dimensional displays are, but Earth is a primitive world as well as a weird one.  Kian wasn't that big on video in the first place, two- or three-dimensional.
    So, the where: perched on the back of Terry's couch, elbows on knees, chin in palms.  The how: all the lights off except the TV.  The what: Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law.  And the why: Terry said he would return to his apartment some time after Sunday, so Kian has been here waiting.
    What with the lights off, it's hard to tell what else may or may not be involved, but the non-cartoon birdman looks pretty engrossed by the animated one, should anyone be looking.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    A tinkling at the door, and the sound of a key sliding into a lock.  A second later, light streams into the darkened room as a red-headed human walks in.
    "Hey!" he calls out, blinking as he adjusts to the penumbra in the room, "I'm home?"
    He stares at the screen.  Harvey Birdman, Attorney At Law.  Wow, it's been a while.  "Kian, hon?" Terry says, walking up to the couch, noticing he appears to be engrossed by the show.
    A show that is so full of referential humor, he is surprised Kian is watching at all.  Unless…

Kian has posed:
    "This makes nooooooooooooooo sense," Kían says without looking over, his voice strangely sing-song.  It doesn't take any enhanced sense of smell to pick out the aroma of chocolate, and in the half-light from the the TV, there's a half-eaten Whitman's Sampler on the couch just out of arm's reach from the birdman.  Every empty paper has been tucked back neatly into its spot.
    "I thought I would see if your people had anythin' on anyone like me while I wait for you to come home," he says dreamily, looking over with the kind of smile that's only legal in a handful of states yet, "and they do, but it iss very weird an' he has too many fingers an' he walks everywhere an' none of it makes any sense…."
    Terry might now have an idea of what it was like when Kian came in on the cat's post-Phoebe high.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    Terry is so tempted to record this.  Birdman Watches Birdman: Reaction Video.  Gar would upload it onto the Titans feed and suddenly Kian would turn into a viral darling.
    Don't think he isn't tempted.  "Oh… Kian.  This is a comedy show.  t's absurdist comedy, it's not supposed to make sense.  The thing that makes it funny is that it's full of nonsense."
    He deposits his messenger bag on the floor and slides onto the couch, noticing all the chocolate.  The bird-man is clearly higher than he's ever flown before, alright.
    "These are characters from another show, actually.  An old show.  So people decided it would be funny to take them out of their superhero context and make him a lawyer.  Because—"  He waves his hands in the air.  "For reasons."

Kian has posed:
    Kian remains perched on the back of the couch for a couple reasons—it's comfortable, Earth couches aren't wing-friendly… and he's not convinced he can get down without just letting gravity handle everything.  "Nonsense is funny on Earth."  He blinks a couple times, then turns to look at Terry wide-eyed, like a Zen master who just achieved satori entirely by accident.  "That explains so much!  Eart' does not make sense, therefore Eart' humor does not make sense.  Yis."  He glances back at the screen.  "An' they draw Akiár wit' too many clothes an' too many fingers," he adds abstractedly.
    He decides to get off the back of the couch, and manages it without damaging couch, wings or dignity somehow.  The dignity goes when he tried to perch on the end of the couch and lets out a startled squawk.  "Oh.  Yis.  I haf brought your T-Com from the Tower," he explains, balancing somehow on one foot so he can retrieve it and hand it over.  Chalk it up to an alien sense of balance; he definitely looks too high to have been able to do that as a matter of conscious effort.  "Because it iss yours an' you shoul' haf it and shoul' not haf lef' without it.  You said you woul' be back after Sunday but you did not say when an' so I haf been waitin'."
    He glances at the box of chocolates, but doesn't reach for them.  "An' I haf been entertainin' myself."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    Terry comes to the conclusion that how he is feeling right now is how Kian feels all the time in all things Vorpal-related.  This is a learning moment.
    "That's only one kind of humor.  But he's not an Akiar.  He's a human who was endowed with the power of solar energy by the sun god… that's why he has too many fingers."
    He reaches for the comm and slides it into the pocket of his jeans.  "Thanks… things have been settled but… I didn't want to worry you so much that you'd just sit here and getting your feathery tail high as a kite."  He reaches over to stroke Kian's hair.  "…I mean, I guess it's better than knowing that the world almost ended two days ago because the death gods awoke a hunger from beyond the stars and we were almost doomed."  The world is almost ending all the time.  That is the Titan experience, after all.  "…have you not eaten anything outside of chocolate?"

Kian has posed:
    Terry's experience as Vorpal probably has him better prepared for Kían's brain on chocolate than Kían was prepared for Vorpal's brain on Phoebe-magic, but it's still a heady mix of colors and complicated semitonal music and the wild thrill of plunging through a flock of fellow birdfolk and emerging on the other side unscathed and with two opponents' ribbons, but entirely without the accompanying adrenaline rush.  Still a thrill, but one that can be savored leisurely, casually… rather than breathlessly.
    "Iss that where the extra finger comes from?  Because everyone I know has too many, an' everyone I know has a rhy'thar," he muses.  "My Gods did not gif me more fingers, they jus' gave me my powers."
    He closes his eyes and concentrates, and when he next speaks, there's a little more clarity in both his voice and his eyes.  "It iss settled, you are not leavin' us?"  He smiles, a more normal smile and not the 'hi, my brain chemistry is borked for a little while' smile, and strokes Terry's cheek.  "That makes me very happy.  I coul' not think how to explain to Gar when he gets back, an' now I do not haf to."  The clarity slips a little.  "I shoul' get one of your personal communicators.  I did not wan' to call Gar over the T-Com because I think those are not always private?  So I did not know what to do other than come here an' wait for you."
    The clarity slips further; he's not trying to maintain it anymore.  "An' we haf Rae, so we do not need a death god, she has already said she iss going to end me an' Gar so I am already doomed, but maybe I think she iss not serious?"  He leans forward and drops into a conspiratorial whisper.  "An' maybe she does not know I am here an' I can live a little while longer until she fin's me."
    He does not address his diet, but it's probably not a difficult guess that no, he probably hasn't had anything other than chocolate.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    Terry exhales and raises his eyebrows.  "God, you're caked," he chuckles, feeling the strange mixture of impressions.  "I'm sorry I put you through all of that.  No, I'm not leaving.  But you really are a rather silly bird… even if I left the Titans, I wouldn't leave you and Gar."  He leans forward and places his hand on Kian's chest, and he leans forward to place a kiss on the Akiar's lips.  It's a slow, lingering one, accompanied by a slight chuckle, as if Kian's mental state had made him a little more relaxed.
    "And there's plenty of things to explain to Gar.  Like why we have a Raven that's… you know.  Or the fact that Robin vouched for me to Nightwing and Troia."  Because yes, that had happened.  "But for the meantime…" he says, stroking his hand across Kian's chest, "maybe I should feed you something.  And then we can spend some time celebrating my return…" he says, his green eyes flitting to the bedroom door, and back, "not necessarily in that order.  Your choice."

Kian has posed:
    There's a little noise in the back of Kian's throat, like he's trying to trill, but his mouth is occupied, so of all things it nearly sounds like a purr.  {I don't actually need to eat, you know,} he 'sends—his mental voice is clear enough, but the texture is what seems sing-song now.
    Even Kian seems to realize his mental state is wobbly, and breaks the kiss just long enough to whisper, "Now it iss your turn to fin' out what it iss like to make out wit' a drug, yis…."