Love as an act of Rebellion

This is exactly what you look like in your battle jackets:

"I'm havin' a hard time picturing it… What- Oh, wait-!" Either Till doesn't notice the kid's incomplete sentence, or he's determined to ignore it as he pulls out his phone to search for pictures of tattoos.

"Oh- I've seen these! I thought people were just drawin' on themselves." He moves to sit next to the kid who answered his question, careful not to get close enough to brush shoulders, so Till can show him the photos he's scrolling through. He pauses on a picture of a woman with rose tattoos climbing up the side of her ribcage. The way the roses' thorns are stylized makes them look like they're digging into her skin, drawing blood.

Now that they're inside and Ismael had her little giggle fest at Till's little flustered self, she gestures at the inside. It's cozy. House plant decorated the windowsill and her violin rests by one of the single sofas.

"Yairie can be a little energetic huh?" She says laughing, "but yeah! Uh, there were others here. Kyrie and Sal, but they're not here anymore." Still, as bittersweet as it is, she's glad she still has these two.

Uncomfortable in an environment that seems so personalized and flustered by all these women gigglin' and callin' him 'cute' and shit, Till runs gentle hands over the houseplant's leaves, grateful for their calming presence. There are several types here he's never seen before, and he thinks idly about drawing them to occupy his hands, brows furrowing with a deep frown.

"That sounds… lonely…" It's difficult to lose friends, especially ones you used to live with. Till seems surprised he's said that aloud and is quick to tack on: "s-sorry. Is that one of those things where you're not supposed to mention it? I-I'm glad you've still got people here with you!" He turns to address Yairie directly and with uncharacteristic formalness. "T-thank you for keeping Ismael company."

Till moves to sit uncertainly on the couch, but the mention of food has him leaping to his feet again.

It did intrigue her that much was for sure. But the mystery to everything around this place managed to keep surprising the bassist regardless of the day. And of all people who could potentially unravel their mysteries Kikuri was unfortunately not one of those people. Not when she couldn't even focus on her own life for even

"Don't woooory about it! Two talkaholics in the same area won't hurt a soul. Unless talking manages to get banned here but I doubt that'd happen hahaha!" If anything the moment he did stop talking Kikuri would probably pick up the mantle and try and become an insufferable drunk of an individual. Thankfully he seemed to be wearing the mantle with pride, something the bassist wasn't opposed to handing off for now.

Till wouldn't really consider himself a 'talkaholic', but the alternative is usually that people who don't know him think he hates them, so he'll take that as a win, honestly. She's lucky she's also interested in the one thing he can talk about at length.

"I guess you're right. A good stage performance can bring a lot to live music. Otherwise people wouldn't pay out the a-- uh-- butt to go so a show." He can't help but notice how she censors herself and makes a visible effort to follow suit.

Food was being rationed out, and he quietly had accepted that over a few days. When he wasn't able to use him phone anymore, he tried to stop thinking about it and those he couldn't reach.

He was, after all, dead, so, things would be fine. Probably.

Someone's phone whirred, bringing him out of his thoughts and off the page in the book in his hand, reminding him that he was hungry for a moment. Looking at his best friend, phone in his hand illuminating his face, Ivan tilted his head in wordless question.

'You...that's...'

'That wheel, I've seen them use it, you're not from here...'

'What does it say...?"

SUPPLY RUN

The clamour started almost immediately, grabbing for the phone in almost the same beat as the glitching hands pounding against the door at the commotion. Some mixture of you can get us food and you can save us and what are you afraid of? You'll come back! echoed across the shelter.

Standing up, he raises a hand.

"Okay,"

"I'll go, if it helps."

He was, after all, dead, so, things would be fine.

Probably.

Till was warring with himself over whether or not he wanted to ask Ivan what he was reading -- thereby no doubt ruining the almost relaxing atmosphere -- when the phone he'd previously shut off to conserve battery power shrieked at him. Trepidation spikes in him as his phone does some deceptively cutesy wheel animation before chiming like Till's won a prize and he barely has time to react before hands start grasping at him and voices shout things he only half understands. The suddenness of it all stuns him and suddenly he's looking up, dumbfounded as Ivan volunteers to go out. Eyebrows drawn in fury, Till jolts to his feet next to him.

"Idiot! What're you doing? Are you trying to get yerself killed?! Again?! You don't have a weapon, and ya don't got any special powers! Whadaya think is gonna happen?!" Till hisses at Ivan and tries to slap his raised hand down, but it's too late; Ivan's words make the crowd around them boil over. Everything becomes louder and too many hands to count usher Ivan towards the door -- Till by extension in his stubborn refusal to leave Ivan's side. When someone steps forward and roughly shoves them both, Till snaps.

"Back off!" He grips the neck of his guitar and raises it like a weapon. Till sees the shover's hands ball into fists of inevitable aggression and Till swings out, intentionally missing as a warning. "I said: Back. Off. We're goin'. Fuck you, we're goin'." He growls, backing into safer territory near Ivan. Till knocks his foot against his friend's ankle, getting his attention while his eyes remain locked with the bully's.

As the guy's face softens so does Eiden's. It's pretty amazing to inspire something new in someone.

" I mean think about it! Lots of things around you are made by someone! Not just artworks either --- but well if you want to sell those then I think online store might be the easiest--- "

" In my case though, I design the product first and then someone makes it for me and after that I sell it! "

He just smiles back the same as before, then witnessing with large, anticipating eyes as he takes a sip.

" Whoa! "

Eiden's own, more quiet exclamation follows his as he instinctively leans back in order to avoid the liquid that doesn't spill at the end. He blinks few times, watching the lit up expression in surprise.

A new thing huh? Eiden can't help but laugh and smile.

Till gulps down half his hot chocolate, and it takes a tremendous amount of self-control not to finish the whole thing in one go.

"It really does taste like chocolate! That's amazin'!"

The hot drink spreads warmth through his whole person, but he can feel his face turning red from more than just the heat… This guy has been nothing but nice to him, and all Till has done is yell at him.

"Hey, um…" Till steels himself. Better to get this over and out of the way fast. "I'm sorry I was kinda an ass to you earlier… You're pretty cool, actually. My name is Till."

He hands over his sketchbook as a sort of lame apology.

It's a game of tug of war. Pride couldn't have two shits about the guy on stage, but Juliyah watches him and feels the need to do something. He feels bad.

Before he can actually do anything, the guy is getting off stage and before he knows it, he's running.

There are maybe just a small handful who sees the performer rushing off, a mix of worry and confusion placed on those faces.

To follow or not? Juliyah steps in the same direction of where Till had bolted.

He didn't look too good and It would be a pain in the ass if anything happened to him.

Pride is uncharacteristically quiet for now.

"AAAGH! Stupid! Fuckin' stupid!" He kicks up his legs and arms in frustration, creating a small flurry of snow around him before falling back, exhausted and staring up at the sky.

She shouldn't laugh, but she can't help but. She giggles, and then a stream of laughter bubbles right out of her. She waves her hand to reassure him as she speaks, "N-No! Haha! Like LOCKED IN. I was TOO focused on building my legos, Hahaha!" It's no funny matter, though. THIS came from somewhere. So, she's calm and pats his shoulder.

"Well, lemme know if you ever need backup." Till throws a few jabs at the air himself, mostly to rid himself of the excess adrenaline, though it's not as effective as Hanabi's gentle pat. "I was serious 'bout holdin' 'em down for you, ya know!"

His gaze drifts to the floor and he scoops up a handful of the colorful bits.

"So, you were… 'locked in' because of these 'legos'… which are… Tiny torture devices?" He picks up a yellow rectangle to more closely examine it. "Candy?" He gives his two best guesses.

He wandered off, but only briefly, returning with a fresh, hot cup of coffee which he placed in front of Till.

"'B-bark'?" He sputters, offended. Subconsciously, his cheeks puff out a little as he watches the alien go, thinking that'll be the end of it at least, but they're soon returning with a fresh cup that they place in front of him. And Till blinks at it, dumbfounded because well… He doesn't think an alien has ever been so nice to him, and now he feels he maybe -- might have -- overreacted.

With a skeptical glance at the alien, he reaches for the cup. Quickly, he draws a little creature with pointed ears, a snout, and a bushy tail in the foam before sliding it back to the other. He sits back and drinks his own, now ruined, coffee.

"...Yes. I'm Ivy," she said once her reluctance passed and she stepped in after him. Her shoes found careful placement on the least amount of composition sheet and sketch work possible in each step.

"This kind of noise... is more acceptable than most," she added after a little deliberation. "I haven't lived with others in a space like this before. It may not be easy for you either."

(She was going to think about "who does this belong to" when it came to food in the cabinet, but if her power was running low it was going to be eaten for survival.)

"Don't worry, I've lived in a communal setting almost my whole life. I've got plenty of experience." Till thumps his chest, trying to project confidence he doesn't quite feel. "If ya like music, I don't think we'll have a problem. Playing my guitar is usually the loudest I get, I'm pretty quiet otherwise. Oh, and sometimes my stupid best friends is over and I have to yell at him a lil but you can tell me if you get sick of our shit."

Till glances at the chaos surrounding him before looking back at Ivy with the utmost seriousness.

"I have a system." He makes a face.

It looks like he got it pretty decently from the dark discoloration of it.

"I wouldn't know, I have found I am not very fond of them myself."

She mused out in a soft voice. While not thinking much of the change in his speech pattern, she does note it, but doesn’t mention it before she sets the bag of cat food down beside them and then she in turn kneels, hair pooling around her form as she does. Her hand is then held out, towards his foot, but not touching yet as she wants to make sure he's fine with her touch before doing it.

"I have heard cold is good for such things when this happens to a soul. I am naturally cold, would you like me to try and help relieve some of the pain you are feeling?"

"Y-yeah, I never had to wear shoes so much b-before… s'weird and, like, they're so expensive, y'know?" He makes a choking sound that's supposed to be a laugh before visibly cringing.

"Y-ya don't have t-to do that… I'm sure it'll be fine inna minute. I just gotta get used to it… I mean, I'm not gonna stop ya I guess, but I'm not so good with lettin' anyone patch me up, and I don't wanna kick ya or somethin', y'know? Like, you seem too nice to get kicked tyna help some random asshole you met on the street-" In a moment of clarity, Till realizes his stuttering has turned into nervous rambling, and he snaps his mouth shut with a click before drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs; whether this is to comfort himself or keep from accidentally kicking the nice lady, he's not sure. Avoiding looking at her, he spots the bag of cat food.

so prickly— but it was kind of amusing. "alright then, till! try to keep up with me, alright?" he chuckles smoothly as he looks back at the young man.

he also doesn't bother to clear up the whole misunderstanding of him being a fugitive.

"Well, now I feel like an asshole. I'm… Well, I'm sorry I guess. I mean, uh- thanks… I'm probably doin' that thing where, y'know, your own art looks worse to you? Guess I'm a little touchy about it, what with that guy chasin' me off an' everything… He certainly didn't seem to like it."

Till turns his head behind him, where he can hear footsteps gaining on them, and speeds up.