F-E-A-R

“Damn skippy,” she said, trying to look fierce when a sudden laugh interrupted it, as she heard herself. “Uhh. My word choice there kind of ruins the badassness, doesn’t it? Please don’t tell anyone I said that.” She was a little bemused by his logic—but supposed that coming out to the second kitchen was at least one step closer to civilization than his room, even if it wasn’t joining them for mealtimes. “Well, there has to be some better incentives than that. What else would get you out?” She didn’t really think that introversion was a problem to be solved exactly, especially since he probably had his reasons, but she did want to offer anything she could to make him more at home around here.

“If you had been here ten minutes ago, you could have saved me from myself,” she spoke when she heard the presence of another, “I had my fucking legs stuck behind my head.”

“Put the water in a pot and let it get hot, put the ramen in and start to grin…” Spencer sang softly, changing the words of a melody to fit the situation. Better get off the time talk before Thomas actually caught onto something Spencer didn’t want known. “True, not nearly as much.”

“You should, if they’re trying to—or point them out to me and I’ll…” She mimed punching in the air, and then grinned, dropping her hands sheepishly. “Talk to them politely, probably.” But Thomas was sweet, from what she’d seen. She hoped he stuck around for a while. There wasn’t really much worry that anyone would bully him here, but still she’d keep an eye out. “You know, I can always make up a plate for you and bring it up here, at meal times. If you want. You’re not the only one who isn’t usually up for how busy it gets downstairs. It wouldn’t put me out, at all,” she added, honestly.

Spencer nodded. It was kind of like that all the time for him, days just blended into weeks which blended into months that blended into years. It really be like that sometimes. “Exactly. This place feels kinda the same but different, if you know what I mean.” How the conversation went from food to time and space was beyond him.

Spencer had no reply for a moment. When you’re like, practically immortal, time really didn’t speed up or slow down. In his personal opinion, of course. Then he nodded. “Makes sense. There’s some places I know where it seems time is altered. You ever been in an airport in the very early morning?”

It was late and yet, another sleepless night for the blonde. Even the medication that she was prescribed, no longer seemed to work. Mira ventured out of her room and into the dark hallway towards the kitchen. The blonde had cleared her throat when seeing another body blocking the way ,except she didn’t expect the reaction out of them. “No.. no.” Mira waved her hands frantically. “I’m sorry for startling you. I just… midnight craving.” She gestred towards the fridge.

“You always so jumpy and absentminded?”

“I forget sometimes not everyone hears like wolves do, so I’d say it’s still partly my fault.” She was kidding, of course, but there was no need for Thomas to feel he was imposing on anyone. He offered to help with the dishes and she smiled at him. “Sure. Second cupboard, first and second shelf,” she instructed. Glancing at him, she asked, “Is there anything you were looking for, in particular?” He had been extremely withdrawn from the main areas of the house lately, but she wasn’t going to comment on it. Some people were just more private than others.

“Four years? Damn. I’ve only been here, like, a week? Maybe two? Time sorta slips right on by with me.” Spencer said, thinking. He didn’t really know anyone. Although he didn’t really go out and make himself known either. Spencer just didn’t really like crowds, which is also why he never tended to stay long when he chose to live in cities. “Well I’ve got pretty low standards for food. Like really low.”

One problem with two and a half kitchens was that dishes tended to migrate. People would carry things up and downstairs all the time. After she checked, and saw they were out of glasses on the second floor again, Aleda went downstairs and loaded a tray with about a dozen. When she got back to the upstairs though, someone was already in there. And apparently she’d managed to startle him—which startled her right back. Narrowly keeping the tray from unbalancing, she quickly set it on the counter. “No, it was my fault. Are you okay?” 

“Nice to meet you Thomas. How long have you been here?” Spencer asked, curious. He was a prying kind. Know thy enemy better than thy self Not that they were enemies per say, but it at least gave them something to talk about. It did not escape Spencer’s notice that Thomas glanced at the door. Was he expecting someone else or something?  “Some ramen tastes more like cardboard and chemicals than others, that’s what makes it the good kind, Surprise ramen. That sounds horrible.” 

Leander held up his hands to show he had nothing, an instinct at this point.  “Sorry man,” he said then when the other guy had leaned back against the counter.  He moved quietly, but now with his hearing enhanced and still unused to it, he tried to move even quieter now. Which ended with a lot of accidentally jump scares.  “I just smelled food and was coming by to see if there were leftovers. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“Nah, I snuck up on you, no need to apologize.” He said, shifting his weight to the other foot. The other guy seemed like he was scared of his own shadow. “Oh, since I haven’t seen you around before, my names Spencer.” The nephilim had been at the ranch for a week and he was acting like it had been two months. It was kind of weird being at the ranch, because there was so many people around, something that Spencer experienced only when he felt like living in a city, but still he lived alone when he lived in cities, not with like, 20 other housemates. 

Spencer smiled and lifted his hands in a show of surrender. “Sorry, my bad. Didn’t mean to startle you, I just wanted to grab some food…” He didn’t really think he ended up sneaking up on the other guy, to Spencer, his own feet sounded like duck flippers slapping the ground. The upstairs kitchen was where the good microwave meals were kept (which were a main part of his diet), and Spencer had a hankering for cheap mac and cheese.

Thomas had spent nearly the entire past month barricaded in his room, with only the occasional escape for food or, well, bathroom breaks. They had been mostly during night hours, or moments when the ranch seemed quiet. It wasn’t him, really. A particularly bad batch of social anxiety had kept him from stepping out if at all possible. However, if anyone knew how to deal with fear, it was him and that meant he had to face it eventually. Still, facing a fear or not, when someone cleared their throat behind him in the narrow upstairs kitchen, Thomas nearly jumped out of his own skin, spinning to face the intruder. “Shit!” The curse came on instinct, and he leaned back against the counter in an attempt to appear less rattled. “Sorry about that.”