818/Srsly Terry

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Srsly Terry
Date of Scene: 28 March 2020
Location: Terry's apartment
Synopsis: Colette goes to visit Terry, who turns out to be suffering from a severe case of paws. Partying with his murderclown buddy is strictly off the agenda, even if she /does/ have a demonically possessed limo.
Cast of Characters: Colette O'Connail, Terry O'Neil




Colette O'Connail has posed:
    The communications had been short and simple. Colette had inquired as to Terry's availability for a visit, Terry had responded in the positive. Reasons had not been given or asked.

    It's not like it was hard to figure out.

    The previous night, Colette had accompanied Terry to visit a gangster in NYC. They had gone in Terry's Car. Terry RAN OFF.

    And took the car.

    Leaving Colette stranded in Manhattan.

    That was rude, Terry. RUDE. No doubt Colette is coming to extract terrible vengeance. Organs will be extracted. Bones will be removed and turned into a rather fetching, if poorly tuned, xylophone. Blood will be drained slowly and painfully from his flayed... no, none of that's going to happen. However explanations surely are in order.

    On the other hand, there may come a point where Terry decides that he too feels explanations are in order. We will have to see.

    The knock comes at the appointed time. This is reassuring. Colette's tendency to arrive at places ridiculously early apparently doesn't extend to appointments, because that would be rude and leave her host at a social disadvantage.

    Not as rude as LEAVING SOMEONE IN MANHATTAN WITHOUT A RIDE HOME, but still.

    "Hey Terry! It's Colette. I brought Chinese since Gar ate the whole lot before you got home last time." That's hopeful at least. Surely she won't eviscerate Terry before the Beijing duck is consumed at least.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
The door opens, revealing a rather pale-looking Terry. Or, rather, paler than usual. "Hey... come in," he says rather quietly. Unusually quiet, for him. As he gestures Colette in, he does so with black-leather covered gloves. This is rather unusual, because it is not unusually cold, even for spring in Metropolis. "Go ahead and have a seat... do you want soda?" he asks, stuffing his gloved hands in his pockets as he steps towards the kitchen.

Not. even. a. mention.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
"Yes please, Coke if you have some," Colette answers. "Feeling hungry? The food from this place is great. Do you have chopsticks?" She starts pulling cartons of delicious-smelling food from her bag, and setting it down.

    "I notice you're still wearing your driving gloves," She calls after Terry. "Were you planning on going somewhere? Maybe back to Manhattan to pick up something you forgot to bring back last night?" There's nothing hostile or even admonitory in her tone of voice. She may be being sarcastic, but she's doing it in a perfectly friendly fashion.

    "So Hawkeye two-point-oh. Talented. Inexperienced though. And going into a situation like that without backup is not a wise move. Apparently she has a couple of friends of a similar age who are kind of thinking about doing stuff together. Teaming up a bit. All sounded thoroughly disorganized though. I told her to go talk to Garfield."

    Colette opens a carton and takes a deep smell of the contents. "Mmm. Smells so good." She gets up to follow Terry into the kitchen to wash her hands. "There's duck pancakes. Finger food," she explains. "So. Anything you want to tell me?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry has displayed an amazing ability at not looking at Colette in the eyes since she walked into his apartment. "I think I've got chopsticks somewhere around here," he says, clamping down on the closest thing he could use to take up his attention. "She is, isn't she? Talking to Garfield you say? Do you think she's material for the Titans perhaps? Who are her friends? Do we know of them? Are they also going to talk to Garfield? I should probably talk to him about meeting them, he's been gone for a couple of days to see about something about his stepdad or something." He's rambling. It's all said without taking much of a break.

Moving with nervous energy, he goes over to the fridge and brings out a two liter bottle of coke, which he places on the table.

"Glasses."

He goes back to the kitchen to get them.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "Yes, Terry." Colette takes a seat and nibbles on a piece of Beijing duck, too impatient to wait for cutlery. "I think she may well be material for the Titans. She could use Garfield's perspective because she obviously doesn't think about the possibility of failure. She could use spending some time with people with more experience than she has, because her approach to tactics seems to be pretty much 'I'm sure I can handle it'. But she's smart, capable and connected. O.G. Hawkeye is giving her training and equipment, but obviously his time is limited and he'll presumably only train her to be his mini-me, when with broader input she could be better. I don't know who her friends are. From the sounds of it she was hoping to start up some kind of junior Avengers, but I didn't get the impression the Avengers were that keen."

    "Yes Terry, you could talk to him about meeting them, though to be honest I'm sure he can mange that himself if he has to."

    "Yes Terry, glasses would be good."

    "Yes Terry, I'm still waiting for you to tell me what the fuck is up."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry stiffens up, placing the glasses on the table, and then sitting on the other side of the table from Colette. Gloves grasped together, elbows on the table, he tries his best poker face.

The corner of his mouth twitches a little, and he takes a deep breath.

"What... do you mean, what the fuck is up?" he asks quietly, the leather squeaking as he clasps his hands together.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "Well, let me see," Colette says. She starts to assemble herself a pancake. It's a careful and precise affair. A small amount of the skin from the duck, lovely and crispy. Then a bit of the succulent meat. A couple of chopped scallions, a little sauce, some careful folding. She picks up the completed pancake in her chopsticks and looks back up at Terry.

    "Firstly, there's the fact that you ran off last night. Not just running for the car, but running /with/ the car. Leaving me without a ride home. I feel that kind of means you owe me an explanation."

    Colette lifts the chopsticks to her mouth and eats pancake. Her eyes close and a look of bliss passes across her face. "Damn that's good. Secondly there's the fact that you're sitting here acting like you saw a ghost and it asked you to seek revenge for its foul and most unnatural murder. Which all things considered is possible."

    Chopsticks rise and the second bite of pancake is consumed. As she chews, Colette gestures towards Terry with the chopsticks. "Firgly. 'Fcuse me." She chews and swallows. "Thirdly, you're wearing gloves, which is weird. And you're not taking them off to eat this incredibly delicious duck, which is even weirder. So let's try again, what the fuck is up, Terry?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry's mouth disappears, replaced by a very thin, tight line. The teen breathes slowly, visibly, and clenches his hands together.

A few seconds pass, before he suddenly says something with a clenched jaw:

"I'll tell you. But you must swear you will not tell anyone. Ever. Without my permission. Swear to me."

His eyes suddenly acquire a penetrating quality, laser-focused. There are dark circles under his eyes. Has he slept at all since last night?

"It's very important that you do."

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Colette gives an easy shrug. "A few days ago I told you something about me that I literally never told another human being before, Terry. I'm kind of... of the opinion we got past that stage. I mean I'm trusting you not to tell anyone what I told you...showed you... about me. Admittedly I... well I wanted to tell you anyway. After Sabatini. But I'll admit I was... I would have waited longer, if it was up to me. But it's something I felt was going to come out, so... you know."

    Colette starts calmly working on constructing another pancake, her eyes focused on the process. "So. Go ahead. Tell me. I won't tell anyone else without your permission. Pinkie promise."

    She finishes the pancake construction, and this time offers it to Terry. "You'd be /amazed/ at the secrets I can keep. Go ahead."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Without saying anything else, Terry slowly pulls off his gloves to reveal...

Well, hands. But they're /different/. For starters, they seem to be covered in fur. Salmon-colored fur, even. The fingers on his right hand are also a rich red. All ten finger seem to end in retractable claws.

"This, Colette. This is why I am looking for my father. This started happening... a year and a half ago? Something like that. It was rare then. It's starting to happen at random times now. Sometimes it's my face. Sometimes it's my eyes. Sometimes shit just... falls around me and I have no fucking clue why!"

His hands slam down on the table, causing it to tremble, "Sabatini was wrong, my father didn't bring monsters with him, he /was/ the monster! I didn't know that until we went to see him!"

He looks tremendously agitated, hands trembling, he quickly stuffs them back into the gloves. "Something's happening to me and I don't know what, and I don't know why. I don't know who my father was, or /what/ he was, and I don't know /why/ he vanished eighteen years ago. Nobody knows where he is, nobody's seen him. And nobody seems to be gloating to have killed him, either."

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "Okay," Colette says calmly. She reverses the chopsticks holding the duck pancake. "You better take the chopsticks as well, don't want to get a furry pancake. But /do/ take the duck Terry, it's really good. And that's why you freaked when I called myself a monster. Because you worried you're one." She gives the faintest nod of her head.

    "So. Gar is not a monster. I think we both agree on that one, right Terry? Well he gets kinda furry and kinda... talony. Doesn't make him a monster. So first step here, don't panic. It's not the shape that makes the monster, it's what's inside. Maybe you inherited something you weren't aware of from your father, but that doesn't mean you /are/ your father." She gestures with the chopsticks again. "Now take the duck, eat it. Drink some cola. Take some deep breaths. Then we'll work this out, okay?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"I'm not hungry," Terry shakes his head, standing up and beginning to pace the room. "I couldn't sleep. I had to take a sick day because how the fuck am I going to type with this?" He holds up his gloves. "I told Lois I had a fever, so I couldn't come in because contagion. She was fine with that. But god I hope this goes away before Gar comes back."

He turns to face Colette, "I'm not telling Gar. I'm not telling Gar until I know what this is. Until I know what my father /is/. It's why..." he pauses, and then sets his jaw. He doesn't say anything, but he serves himself some coke and sits down very eloquently.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Colette sighs and eats the pancake, just watching Terry for a little while as she chews. When she's done, she puts the chopsticks down.

    "Not to belittle your issue here Terry, but this is fucking amazing Chinese food and you're missing it for the second time. If you haven't slept and haven't eaten since yesterday you're hardly in a good frame of mind to be solving this kind of a mystery. But first, let me take a really good look at you."

    Colette gets up and goes around the room, closing doors, drawing curtains, and finally switching off the lights. Once the room is as dark as it's going to get, she stares hard at Terry for a few moments, then switches the lights back on and sits down.

    "Hmm." Colette shakes her head. "Nothing I can really make sense of, but that's probably a good thing, Terry. You're not looking any different than you normally do. In the dark, I mean. She steps over to Terry and rests her hand on his shoulder, a look of concentration on her face. After a few moments she sighs and sits down again. "I'm not... it's not very useful. I /maybe/ feel... something? Not sure. Were you ever tested for a metagene? 'Cos... maybe you should ask a wizard instead."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"The only wizard I've ever met almost killed all of us!" Terry exclaims, and narrows his eyes, "I'm not keen on repeating the experience- wait. What... exactly are you driving at?" the young man narrows his eyes even further.

"You are not insinuating that I am- I am not- I am very ordinary!" he says, his voice straining. He walks away from Colette and reaches for the coke, downing it in one gulp.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
"Yeah, Terry." Colette takes a sip of her coke. "You're a very ordinary guy who's growing talons and fur. Who's father could either summon or turn into some kind of monster... monster-/like/ thing. That's cool. And your cousin has a roomie who's basically part Jill the Ripper and part My Little Pony, right? Ordinary enough. Garfield's a totally ordinary guy who happens to be green and can change into any animal he likes. Have you ever considered the number of ways that breaks the fucking laws of physics? But you know, breaking the laws of physics, that's pretty ordinary these days. Me? I'm the most ordinary of all."

    "Let me tell you a story, Terry." Colette puts her coke down and leans back comfortably. Her voice softens. "When I was young, when I was very young, I used to have strange dreams. Not bad dreams. Just... strange. At first I didn't really know they were strange. I mean... how do you judge? But as I got older, they seemed stranger and stranger. Not because the dreams were changing, but because I was getting older, getting to see how odd those dreams really were. There was a while when I was... eleven, twelve, thirteen... when I didn't understand those dreams, but I did understand what... how we are /supposed/ to be. And I'd wake up after one of those dreams, and I'd lie there wondering what was wrong with me. Wondering if I was going crazy. If I was already crazy. Then one day I found out the truth. That I wasn't crazy. That the dreams were real. And  that was worse, Terry. 'Cos that meant I was a freak. I was different. Over the next couple of years, I understood more and more how much I /wasn't/ ordinary. And I became more and more scared that people would find out. That they'd know I wasn't like them. And that would be the end. I felt like if that ever happened... I'd have to... go away. Admit what I was and... give up. And honestly, even today that still... it scares me. But after a year or two, something occurred to me. It occurred to me that I'm me. I'm Colette. I'm ordinary /for me/. And if the universe disagrees, the universe can go fuck itself."

    Colette sighs, leans forwards to start working on another duck pancake. "So here's the thing, Terry. What's happening to you... that's not ordinary. I mean people don't wake up with fur and talons one morning. But it doesn't mean you're not /you/. Doesn't mean you're not my friend Terry. The guy Gar looks up to in some weird messed up way and kinda letches over when he thinks you're not looking. You're still you, and if the universe thinks any different, it can go fuck itself."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
After a few beats, Terry speaks up, "I know what you're trying to tell me, Colette. But the fact is that I don't know exactly what's going to happen. Whether this," he holds up a gloved hand, "comes with... side-effects. I need to know if my dad did that to those men because he /meant/ to... or if he didn't have a choice." He crosses his arms, "Because, Colette... I need to find out. Because I never /planned/ for Garfield to happen. I didn't plan on anyone happening. I wanted to do my nine to five, maybe get some sources to help me on my search- go to work, go home, search, rinse and repeat. And then..."

He gestures at an invisible person, "That fool, that goddamned corny, big-hearted fool had to bump into me and I was dumb enough to lower my defenses."

He exhales and moves over to the couch, sitting down on the arm rest and rubbing his forehead, "And now I hav eto find out if I am just going to grow fuzzy... or homicidal. Before I hurt him and anyone else near me."

Colette O'Connail has posed:
"Your dad who appears to have been a gangster," Colette reminds Terry calmly after eating her next pancake." "You need to remember that. Maybe what is happening to you also happened to him. But he was a gangster and you're a /good person/ Terry. So don't count on whatever happened to him being the /same/ for you. And really, please. Have some duck. It's so good."

    "As for that big-hearted fool who bumped into you? Well I think you better tell him. A burden shared, remember? Besides, when it comes to turning fuzzy, he's kind of the number one expert around here. And hey, I'm not supposed to be giving you relationship advice, because I promised Garfield I'd let the pair of you work it out for yourselves, but I think I'm only slightly bending the rules here to say that it's kind of not entirely your choice, now. Don't take his agency away, Terry. He should be part of that decision."

    Colette opens another food container, revealing a bundle of small, delicate, almost transparent egg rolls. She takes one, bites, and chews thoughtfully. "You know, you could even have it the wrong way around. Maybe he was the gangster, and whatever it was that he grew into is what made him turn against him. Maybe the fuzzy version of your father was the good guy."

    Colette winces and turns away for a moment. "Shit. That's... that's not... right. I mean... he killed them. That's... that's /me/ talking. I mean... ugh. You know what I mean. Sorry. No purifying the world talk, I promise. But... ah shit. You're right. You don't know. But also you have no reason to think it's going to change you... other than physically. Maybe you need to... ask yourself. I mean this is essentially /you/ we're talking about here. Part of you, in some way. Don't hide from it. Talk to it."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"We don't /know/ what happened," Terry cuts in, looking up. "We don't-"

Beep
Beep eep

He blinks and reaches for his phone. And stares at the text messages. "Oh god," he says, "Harley is driving a limo..." he texts quickly:

<<What are you doing with a Limo? Don't drink and drive, Harley! Are you ok? Do you need me to come and get you?>>

He then looks up, and exhales.

"We don't know what was going on. All we have is the word of gangsters and criminals. I need to know more, I /must/ know more." He growls a little. "And Garfield... I am not going to tell him. Not yet. He's got to worry about bringing the Titans together and I'm /not/ going to throw a wrench in the works here. He'll start worrying about me, and we are not going to have that. Not until the Titans are fully established. Okay?"

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Colette sighs and eats the rest of the egg roll. "Not okay. But it's your decision and I'm not supposed to interfere, so I'm not going to try to persuade you against your latest mistake. "

    "You're right about one thing. You need to know more." Colette leans forwards, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her palms, looking closely at Terry. "Only the trail went cold. You said it yourself. Nobody knows what happened to your father. So you need to follow the new trail, Terry. The one writing itself on your hands. So just... indulge me here. Close your eyes. Breathe deeply a few times. Stop /worrying/ about what is happening and just look at it from the outside. And then answer a simple question without thinking about the answer you're giving. Just say what you feel. What do you want? What would make you happy? Give it a try."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Frownng, Terry looks at Colette for a moment, and then slowly closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down. He makes a good effor tto keep his breathing low and not clavicular, he even puts his hands on his knees and tries to ground himself, to put everything from his mind.

What do you want? What would make you happy?

He waits for some sort of coherent answer that he can put into words. Eventually, though, his green eyes snap open. "I... can't do this right now. I'm too tired. I'm too tired to even be hungry," he mutters, rubbing his forehead. "... I stayed up worryoung about Gar. And what this would do to us."

Colette O'Connail has posed:
Colette nods her head. "Okay Terry," she says slowly and calmly. "That's fine. Here's the thing though. You keep doing it. Tomorrow, the day after, whenever. Any time you're feeling... or looking... not yourself, give it a try. And after you've come up with an answer, think for a few moments about the answers you kind of half thought of and didn't give. And if you're ever... if you feel like you may be losing control, you can call me. Any time. If you do turn homicidal, probably best it's me rather than someone else."

    Colette straightens and takes another egg roll. She holds it in her fingers thoughtfully, then grabs a piece of the duck, throws it straight into her mouth without wrapping it and chews that thoughtfully for a while. "It'll be fine, you and Gar. I mean... maybe that's just me saying what I want to happen, but I do think so. Honestly if there's one person in the world who's going to be able to take his boyfriend turning fuzzy in his stride, it's Garfield. Now. I'm gonna put the rest of this food in the fridge. Not at its best heated, but you can eat it in the morning. After you've had a good long sleep, which you're gonna go do now. Okay?"

    Colette holds the egg roll up to her mouth and stares at it for a few moments. "Now. Before I eat this delicious Vietnamese egg roll, tell me. Do I need to go rescue your murderclown buddy from a demonically possessed limousine or something?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Bing!

Terry looks at his phone... and then sighs. "No, I don't think our murderclown needs any help. She looks like she is having a fun time of her own." He holds up the phone and shows Harley's text:
<<I RENTED IT! IT HAS A DRIVER! I NEED YOU TO COME GET ME, YES! TELL YOURSELF WHATEVER YOU WANT TO GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE AND HANG OUT WITH ME!>>

He looks at the phone, and then back at Colette. "If I weren't in the middle of The Curse Of the Cat Woman, I would have actually taken her up on it. But... as things go..."

<<Sorry Harl, I'm feeling pretty sick. High fever and whatnot. Don't worry, someone's checking up on me and bringing me chicken noodle and stuff like that. Rain check? Next time we'll do something fun.>>

He exhales. "What is my life, Colette?" he asks, wearily.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
"No murderclown parties for you tonight, Terry." Colette sets about packing the remains of the food into Terry's fridge, and does a quick bit of dishwashing as well. Mostly just a kind of swirl around in the water to make sure nothing's actually sticking, she's not really that domestic. "Now you sleep. When you wake, you eat. Got it?"

    Colette dries her hands studiously as Terry asks his question, but doesn't immediately answer, just cants her head sideways and stares at him. When she's finished she puts the towel down, and goes to give him a quick hug. Stepping away again, she says "Interesting, Terry."

    Her voice sounds sympathetic. "Your life is interesting."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Surprised by the hug, Terry blinks... and then chuckles. "Yeah, interesting's definitely the word for-" BING!

The redhead looks at his phone and frowns. "Yeah, I should probably crash. I feel like I'm a breath's breadth from falling over and conking out."

He fumbles with his phone, trying to unlock it again, "I guess I can afford to sleep in til tomorrow. I don't see anything else happening right now..."

He trails off and stares at the screen in abject horror at the words that pop up:

<<So you've got food. Good. BRT with party.>>

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Colette doesn't see the message, but he does see the expression.

    "I was right, wasn't I?" She says. "Demonically possessed limo. I can see it in your face. " Colette sighs and shakes her head. She rolls up her sleeves like she's preparing to get into a fight. "I'll deal with it. Go to bed!"