> Dirk silently pushes in through the window of Dave’s apartment, draping himself over the floor. The phoenix is definitely worse for wear, he smells like alcohol and old sex and defeat, someone who’s been sleeping in cheap motels and back alleys for the last two weeks. His clothes are dirty, and his skin and hair and feathers are smeared with what it’s probably better to not think too hard about what exactly it is.
>”Honey, I’m home,” he calls, voice drawled and thick with an accent that’s a culumation of thousands of years of learning and speaking languages, only to change again as the world continues to turn and evolve around him, him the single fixed unmovable point despite his attempts to live like everyone around him.
>”Dave, babe, be a dear and help me drag my carcass to the bathroom, would you?”
