#redlichbluelich 02

“What the fuck are you doing here?” This was one of her most precious memories-- one she doesn’t want tainted by the likes of him. He’d already killed her once, a slight that she doesn’t intend to soon forget. Once her power is restored, she intends to return the favor as soon as possible.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be and other people to condescend to?” Turning her back on him, she leans against one of the lab tables. This lab is a place she’d considered a second home once upon a time. It doesn’t feel right to share that with him.

It’s easy to see that the place is filled with all manner of necromancy experiments-- complicated equations and theories line the blackboard, in three different styles of handwriting. Voices can be heard from outside the door, presumably coming down the hall.

“I’ve got big news,” he explains, his Pokemon Report already in hand. He's a little out of breath from booking it to Barry’s so soon after editing and printing, but he seems too full of energy to care. Even the sight of the other man’s lab coat and the brief thought that he might have interrupted something important isn’t enough to slow Todd down; his friend will want to see this, he’s sure of it. It’s the culmination of his report, the sort of startling, magnificent find that just can’t wait.

“There’s a Pokemon here that’s really, really rare. I captured it once before, but honestly, I never thought I’d see it again after that-- I can’t believe it’s just been hanging out in the city!”

He lays out the photo binder, flipping to a new section filled with photographs of a light pink creature with large, bright blue eyes. The creature floats effortlessly in the air, framed by a soft sunset glow that appears almost ethereal where it touches the Pokemon.

Todd half-glances up for a moment as Barry settles in beside him to take a look. The white flash of his friend’s coat and the familiar, triumphant feeling of returning to the lab with the sort of photo that no one else has ever gotten before-- that no one else could ever get-- makes nostalgia settle heavy and warm in his chest.

“So what do you think, Professor?”

The house (and Rung’s room in particular, once he leads the way upstairs) looks nicer than usual, tidied up to the best of his ability. His favored areas appear homely, well-lit and softened with the sort of pillows and cushions and lush houseplants that the psychiatrist never had aboard the Lost Light. There are a few reminders of home, too; sharped-edged crystals sit in one windowsill like flowers, and it’s clear that Rung’s had a few pieces of furniture custom-made in metal to better accommodate his size and Cybertronian sensibilities. The mix of styles and sizes of furnishings makes his home look somewhat similar to his office (and the table of snacks set out for Barry doesn’t do much to help differentiate them) but it doesn’t seem to have been done on purpose. Perhaps there are only so many ways that one can arrange an area meant to accommodate both Cybertronians and smaller lifeforms.

There is a significant difference between Rung’s office and his living quarters, though, and it’s the very thing that Barry’s come to see; lining one wall are rows and rows of extensive shelving half-full with model spaceships of various designs. Separated from these by a few empty shelf spaces is another model, distinct from the others in both shape and quality. The miniature Starblaster gleams in the warm light of the room, detailed and assembled to near-perfection.

Rung’s excited to get Barry’s opinion on it, but he’s even more excited to play host. Sitting primly on one side of the couch, he gestures to the food he’s set out and to the room at large.

“Make yourself comfortable. I'm really glad you made it! How have you been?”