IT WOULD HAVE LIKELY BROUGHT THEM JOY, RELIEF EVEN TO SEE IT WAS THE HOST and not the demon they were interacting with ( they would always find them slightly unnerving ) for a change, if he hadnât decided to get cranky with them. They only manage to get halfway towards him before they are unable to go further and crimson red eyes stare solemnly down at the flask in their gloved hand, which contained hot chocolate. They had planned on giving it to him as a type of peace offering, but it seemed pointless now, considering how he was already questioning their motives.Â
They turn slowly on their heels before they move over to the edge of the pavement and sits down on it. They pull a small, brown paper bag full of bird seed out of their pocket and scatters some of it onto the pavement. It doesnât take long for a pigeon to fly down and start pecking at it by their feet, something that instantly brings a smile back upon their lips. âThen ya need tâget some sleep. Ya donât look⊠well â and no that is not me bein a busy body, thatâs me showinâ concern. Iâve been told several times by others that my weakness is showinâ compassion to those who donât deserve it â but it must be a ordeal havinâ that invasive creature â I mean individual, snatchin your body right from under ya all the time.  â They lower their head to look down at the pigeon cooing by their feet. They know it likely wants more food but they had given the rest of it to the crows and magpies while down at the park just this morning. âI actually used tâbe a alcoholic. I got clean when I saw it was playin havoc with my powers and I had a baby to look after, which was another reason why I gave it up. My son Darwin. He turns three in February. I havenât heard from his mother since she dropped him off at my doorstep and I doubt I will see her again, so I am all he has got. Do ya have family? Anyone close that can help ya deal with your unwanted passenger? â
Well. If that isnât interesting. He remembers the first time he met the hybrid. Not in charge of his own body at the time but a first meeting regardless. Them, standing over two bodies. Blood everywhere. Talking about how lovely it felt to kill someone, even if prompted by Azathoth. And here they are now, sitting before him. Feeding the birds, smiling.
Itâs somewhat perplexing and grotesque to see them like that. So confusing that Lanceâs first instinct is not to leave anymore, but to remain standing right here, staring at them with a puzzled, wary look on his face. He chooses to ignore the comment on how tired he looks, because there is no way heâs going to talk about his nightmares and insomnia with a total stranger. Instead, he gives the other a soft snort.
âMaybe they got a pointâ he replies in regards to the otherâs âweaknessâ, though truth be told, it makes them instantly more likeable in his book. Empathy. Instead of endless sadism and selfishness. Certainly a refreshing change of scenery. âItâs not happening âall the timeââ he has to correct Morgan anyway, but itâs more of a mutter, maybe not even aimed at the other, but at himself. As the hybrid talks more about themself, Lance looks right back at them with an indecipherable look on his face, letting them finish what they have to say. Look hardening and getting even more guarded the second heâs asked if he has any family, anyone really, who can help him.
In an instant, thereâs a thick, suffocating lump in his throat. His teeth gritting, his eyes growing a bit wider as he battles the onslaught of emotions and grief that his âunwanted passengerâ is more than happy to lab right up. Because yeah. Isnât that always the fun part to realize. That heâs alone with this. That everyone else is either dead or pushed away and kept at a distance. For their safety.
âYouâre a bit of an oversharer, arenât youâ is the first thing he says then, the rudeness a defense mechanism to keep everything else at bay. But even he soon realizes that heâs being an utter dick. Especially to someone who might be a better person than him after all. Then, with a deep breath, he decides to move forward instead and sits down next to Morgan, with some generous space between them. He places his elbows on his knees and leans forward a bit so he can move his hand through his hair.
âCanât imagine what thatâs like. Three year old kid. Entirely dependent on you alone. Jesusâ he takes them up on the conversation, softer, and finally looks back at the other. âThat takes some serious guts.I mean thatâ the former TV host goes on, only to look away again. He starts fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket for a bit, trying to imagine it but, nope. He knows he couldnât do something like that. One of the many reasons why he did what he did back when he fucked up in film school.
âIâm more the type of person like that dear mother of his I guess. So, you know. Whatever.â Thereâs a bitterness in his voice, followed by silence. Until he once again looks back at the other and beams a fake grin at him. âLooks like here you are again. Showing compassion to those who donât deserve it. You should work on that. For your kidâs sake.â
