#gamethecry

"Woah, woah. I swear I don't mean any harm."

Mark is halfway through the doorway hand is held out to the other in a manner to show he didn't mean any threat. He had just been trying to find somewhere to hunker down for the night, he had gotten separated from Dodger and Enis during a scuffle earlier in the day.

He could only hope they were safe.

Of course it was now he would look up as just before he had only just saw the movement of someone moving into a defense position from his entry into this place. But now he's looking up to see who it is and he can't believe it.

His eyes are wide and there's even a faint flicker of a smile on his lips for a moment.

"Matt...Matthew is that you?"

-

There was always something happening on the Invincible. Noah's disproval of the warp core meant that he was stalling for time and finding every reason to delay its use. In this way, he was keen to let Mack find as many 'errors' as possible, citing that they needed to be sure that everything was nothing less than perfect. Noah, too, took time to attend meetings to check and double-check different protocols and initiatives.

Barnum, however, knew nothing of any of that. All he knew that his dad and his uncle were busy and needed help! That's why he was here!

Uncle Mack sounded unhappy. He usually did. Sometimes, the pup wondered if his uncle missed the grass. Would that make him happy again? Not even his dad knew the answer. Until there was a chance to play in the grass, Barnum decided he would do the best he could to make his uncle happy and do that mouth movement. What was it called... Oh yeah! A 'smile'.

The tool lifted was the correct one (somehow), and the pup couldn't help but wag his little tail at the praise. There! He did it! Uncle Mack did the mouth movement! Not only that, he noted that Barnum was smart. Of course he was! Dad said that he was so smart. Unfortunately, him raising his head to keep it in reach of Uncle Mack's hand didn't reward him with more pets. That's okay. Uncle Mack is always busy.

glancing down, at hands. shifting the featureless hands. pausing. sensing. reaching out. tethering to something ⸻ someone nearby? flood of information then.

about this world. about its customs. its peoples. its year. a name, ringing endlessly and recontextualizing mannerisms, personality, likes and dislikes, age, habits.

arlo.

⸻ they inhaled, sharply, face taking shape first. baby blue eyes blinked as he took in the sunlight. head ached, squeezing sensation along his brain. was always overwhelming. taking form. learning so much and grasping a new personality in the span of a few seconds. a life lived and formed in a matter of moments. yet felt like years. somewhere out there, an apartment room became his: furniture appearing and shuffling itself to fit who he was now. landlord of the apartment building was to greet him as though an old, trusted tenant.

arlo's surveying his clothing now: 70s in style. orange floral print shirt unbuttoned to show his torso, paired with dark brown bell-bottomed pants and a black leather belt. large circular rimmed sunglasses covered his eyes.

hand jutted up to rub at his chin, fingertips brushing along his lips. eyes darted. vision blurred and shifted. spotted a nearby man. (that's him. that's him. that's the one who shaped you. that's him.) less a thought ⸻ just a innate knowing that settled and slotted into place. with a confidence, he walked over to this man and flashed a smile his way,

"hey there."

the eye comment had been a poor attempt at disguising his own surprise, really. word vomit being an accurate term for it ; if you will. but it had caught his attention first, the other man's eyes -- a strange thing to fixate on, though the detective couldn't help himself. their faces were strikingly identical to one another, so in a well masked panic, matthew focused in on the widening eyes of the other. people do murmur on about how eyes are 'the mirrors to the soul' or whatnot, and he found himself wondering about the same thing. merely hoping it would somehow be different. yet all he found in their locked gazes was creases around the pupil such as his own, along with the same shade of mud brown eyes. huh! so this was ... actually a legitimate thing then.

a wave of nausea coils in his belly, lips twisting in thought when the other finally speaks up. immediately swarmed with a thousand thoughts, completely and helplessly stumped on how to proceed correctly. a part of him, a cowardly part, almost doesn't want to dignity the question with a response -- nervous on confirming how similar their voices are with clarity. he shouldn't have approached. should've blamed the crazy view on his yellow avaitors plus the buttload of exhaustion, and continued on his merry way. but he can't reverse time ; besides, the curiosity is already eating him alive. maybe it's just the appearances that are the same? mat's heard of everyone having at least one doppelganger out there. this could be a freaky case of that!

( excuses, excuses -- )

“ ... oh, right, i didn't properly introduce myself.” feigning a casual air about him, matthew forces a smile ; though his eyes don't quite meet it. “you caught me off guard to say the least! but im ... matthew patrick.”

if his voice shies away when he finally reveals his name, matthew struggles to own up to it. the tip of his fingernail beginning to tap at the badge clipped to his belt as the detective attempts to move past his peculiar behavior. regain some of that control he lost at the end there. after all, there was this strange urge to overcompensate flowing beneath his skin -- that began bubbling up when confronted with this carbon copy of himself. like he holds this childish desire to impress.

“but a lot of people call me detective patrick too, everlock police force and all.” a pause, then, “what about you? what's your name?”

                    ‘ you can’t blame GRAVITY 

                                                                     for falling in LOVE. ‘

did  you  hear  that?  its  the  sound  of  me  c  RYING  IN  THE  CLUB  

   Matthew cocked a brow, crossing his arms and allowing for an annoyed scoff    to leave him. The Core was already getting on Matt’s nerves and he had bar-    ely met the guy; after you watch the process of something being built the fr-    om the ground up and hear about it’s progress. Every. Single. Day. You don’t    want to hear about it or FROM it anymore. Especially not seemingly RUDE c-    omments.

        " oh I’M sorry, are you still TALKING or w h a t? “

▐ ↳ ◸ Wheatley blinked, obviously confused by the comment. The duo had been standing in silence for an awkward amount of time. He had, well not really decided to tag along with the other, but it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go. Blinking, and looking down, he brought his hands behind his back, and gave a nod whilst still looking down before responding.