@soldierqueer
DAVE took a step inside of the mansion, his eyes wide as he looked around. The place was huge, bigger and more expensive than anywhere Dave had set foot in before. He whistled, putting his hands in his pockets and just staring. It had been a few days since Klaus had accidentally brought Dave into the future with some kind of magical briefcase that had malfunctioned. Klaus had explained everything to Dave, or at least, Dave assumed it was everything. He’d told him all about how he had six siblings who were adopted by some man named Reginald Hargreeves because Klaus and his siblings were all born on the same day. Dave didn’t understand why simply being born on the same day would cause someone to want to adopt them all, but Dave decided not to question it. The important thing was that Dave believed himself ready to meet Klaus’ family.
He stepped further inside, looking around for any sign of life. “Uh, hello?” He called into the mansion. “Anybody home?” He had been quite surprised to find the front door unlocked, so he’d let himself in. It probably wasn’t the most polite thing to do, but Dave needed to meet other people from this crazy time. Needed to talk to someone else who might understand what he was going through. He paused in the living area, looking up at the large painting of a young boy. Dave tilted his head, just looking at it for a long moment.
Five had been holed up in his old room doing probability calculations all day. So wrapped up in his own thoughts that he’d barely noticed the time passing, or even his own surroundings. The distant sound of someone whistling had gotten him out of his head and put him on edge, however. Having him stop what he was doing to focus and listen for more. When the voice that followed was unfamiliar, he dropped his chalk and reached for the gun he’d snagged from his father’s room. He teleports down to the hall, gun in hand. Quickly spots the source of the voice. A man, inspecting his portrait. Someone who, despite only seeing his back, seems a complete stranger to him. If this is another Commission goon, he really rather not take any chances. He notes that he should take the portrait down at some point. The boy aims the gun and cocks it, effectively trying to make his presence known to the aforementioned stranger. “ Turn around. ” He speaks the command with authority unbefitting of his current boyish exterior. “ Who are you? ” He asks, immediately following it up with “ How did you get in here? ”
