This RP blog and characters are still under construction, so this post will be updated as new things get built. Rules at the moment boil down to common sense and keeping things relatively SFW - and that if you’re looking to start trouble outside of a previously agreed-upon RP scenario, this is your only warning that I won’t tolerate it.
Please DM me if you aren't sure whether a scene is going to be acceptable in-RP - for instance, while I refuse to write sex scenes and sexual scenarios I'm fine with suggestive language and fade-to-black allusions, but if you're not sure then come talk to me and we'll work something out.
Also, this is a side blog, my main is @grimoiregirl633 - same rules apply, though that one's not set up for RP.
On a lighter note, have some useful links:
Eve's Bio
Nitro’s Bio
I also have some experimental and canon-derivative muses who may show up in threads:
Tron, Yori, Beck, Call (OC)
And a long list of characters both original and canon-derivative who you are welcome to DM me for, if none of the above work for a scenario you would like to do - chances are, I will have a character at least partially built who will work for the RP.
Heretic AU
The Heretic AU is a non-canon universe where after the events of Uprising and Tron's eventual capture, Beck exercises his sense of self-preservation and runs to Purgos to hide before he can be hunted down - shelving the Renegade identity in the process. After living there for a while and making some friends in similar situations, he launches a new vigilante identity : the Heretic, a musician who organizes riots, concerts, and general public disturbances to disrupt and inconvenience the Occupation as much as possible - he avoids direct confrontation to further distance the Heretic from the Renegade, but he's not opposed to fighting where necessary. Over time, various Uprising factors realise not only is he on their side, but he's actively worked with one of their former leaders (Cutler), and start to use his concerts as information exchange hubs. His render adjustment for this identity is basic and nowhere near as armoured as the Renegade was, but deliberately uncanny, and the sheer volume of accessories plus his tendency to switch his circuits on and off again at random help hide who he is. Any non-rp posts referencing or expanding on this AU will be tagged heretic au so they can be found.
Had an idea for a thread with fCon Ed - or, at least, Ed getting a friend and dragged out of fCon...... whether he realises he needs to get out, or not. Respond if interested :)
Eve peeked around the door of the tech conference's closing gala, eyeing the attendees. She wasn't supposed to be here. Wasn't supposed to be this side of the screen. Definitely wasn't supposed to be attempting to poach employees from rival companies.
But really, was it poaching when it felt more like a rescue?
Future Control Industries... Eve shuddered. She knew exactly what kind of Programs they had as flagships. The Master Control Program that had torn through her home before she was aware enough to understand what was wrong was proof enough.
But their new star programmer...
The child of the owner, named for the same. Intelligent, inventive, driven. A dangerous young man, second only to his father.
At least, according to the media.
Eve thought Edward Dillinger Junior looked... tired. Burnt out. Chained to the man who even now gripped his shoulder so tightly it couldn't be any less than painful.
In need of an Admin - someone to look out for him and help him thrive.
Eve could provide.
She flashed her pass, a gift from Lora Prime - unable to make the conference for health reasons - and stepped in to mingle. Her black dress shimmered pink in the lights, heels high and sharp, eyeliner like tiny knives.
The Legacy Grid had become a battleground not too dissimilar to this one, for all the weapons didn't leave visible wounds. And Eve was an Encom Program - designed, as they all were, to adapt and fight.
Ed always hated tech conferences. It's something he should have looked forward to. There were lots of good talks about the latest innovations, demos of the latest gadgets, lots of fascinating ideas.
It also meant he was stuck in close quarters with his father and no escape.
"Because of his disability," his father rationalized. And maybe that was part of it, but Ed was also aware it was to keep him in line. He had his entire schedule handed to him, every second of his day and a warning not to deviate.
By the time the closing gala arrived, Ed was exhausted. The ballroom was too loud, to bright, and Ed was out of patience for interacting with his father's business partners, or anyone. The only saving grace was the soft silk of his outfit expensive outfit. Ed doubted he could manage any other texture.
He just wanted to go back to the their suit at the hotel and sleep.
Ed snapped at a one of his father's business partners. Someone important, though Ed doesn't remember the man's name, and doesn't particularly care to.
His father squeezed his shoulder in warning.
It's only years of training and discipline that kept Ed from tensing or flinching. He apologized, then excused himself. His father stepped in to smooth things over, and Ed took the opportunity to attempt to disappear into the crowd, though he's aware Dymitr--Ed's "assistant", though Ed was fully aware that the man reported to his father and was truly there to keep him in line-- is following him, not too far behind.
He had been so focused on putting space between him and his father's business partner that he hadn't noticed the woman approaching until she was nearly upon him.
Expressing his anxieties never ended well. They were always dismissed as nothing, and if he did say anything and it did come true, nobody liked being told 'I told you so'.
He shook his head, and switched off the disc. "I'm fine."
He quickly put the disc back in its coat pocket. Or at least, attempted to, though it took several tries to find the opening and shove the disc back inside.
Ed slid the notepad across the table to Jet, then grabbed his tin of teas.
And here came the alternate definition of fine again. Jet didn't dare let any of the disbelief or scepticism coiling in his chest show - pushing Ed to find out something more truthful would just push Ed away and hurt him. "Cool. Let me know if that changes - easier to solve problems and avert them with two working together." Jet shifted one of the flasks so they were both in the same hand, scooping up the notebook with his newly empty one. "But if you're fine right now, that's fine too. I trust you."
"Off we go." Jet detoured around the kitchen bench to poke his head into the dining room. "Bye dad, love you. We're going out, got some stuff to do then a relax afternoon. Say bye to Yori for me, gonna go home after."
"Love you too, an leanbhín." Alan paused his sewing, looking over with a soft smile. "Have fun, both of you. Drive safe."
"I promise."
Jet rejoined Ed, a bounciness to his step. "To the garage we go, 's a short drive to the I/O tower - that's the easiest way out - and then only a short walk to my car from the laser lab. Longest part of it's gonna be waiting for the exterior door to open."
Dread settled in Ed's stomach at the mention of home. He couldn't go back. Wouldn't be allowed, after... everything. Except, he had no plan for where to go. He'd seen one of the files Thanatos had included had been named hotels, but he'd been too tired to have the foresight to look into the file.
And he didn't know if that would be a trap, either.
For a moment, Ed tensed, expecting... he wasn't sure what he was expecting in Alan's response. A warning to behave, or a threat should he step out of line.
But Alan didn't say anything, and Ed was left disoriented. For a minute, Ed wondered if he should say goodbye as well, but... Ed really didn't want to call Alan's attention to himself. Especially if it would result in a warning or threat.
He settled for waving awkwardly from the kitchen and then followed Jet.
Alan waved back, returning to his sewing once Ed and Jet had left.
"Yeah, it's like a ten minute drive to the I/O tower, and the door fully takes fifteen minutes to open - while kind of automated, it's not controlled by anything other than its own hydraulics and those are set extremely slow so no one gets squished. Fully isolated from the rest of the security system." Jet hummed. "There are chairs next to it for that reason. Why spend twenty minutes walking through and then around the whole building when you can sit for a bit and be out straight into the way nicer secondary carpark once the door's open."
"And sure, there's the fire door not far from it, but let's not set off the fire alarm to get out."
After causing quite a bit of trouble for the Occupation, Ark decided that it was best for her to lay low for a while.
The area around Bostrum seemed like a good choice. The Colony had been infected and devastated, but the Crystal Conduit was far enough away that it likely was spared from the Virus' wrath.
The Conduit was full of energy and crystals, and also Gridbugs. But, she hadn't seen a swarm of them on her one previous visit, just a few here and there. The danger added to the relative safety of it, as most programs wouldn't venture out there.
The roads on the way to and from Bostrum were intact close to Tron City, but the further and further they got from the living City, the more damaged they became.
Ark's trek was slowed as she navigated the shattered roads, occasionally making a small detour into the Outlands to dodge debris.
Upon reaching Bostrum, she took a quick break on the outskirts to rest and replenish from the plentiful energyfalls that surrounded the former Colony. The Conduit was still further ahead.
Ark's travels took her through caves and canyons and the more crystals she saw, the closer she got to her destination.
Crystals dotted the rocky landscape as she compressed her light cycle into its baton and continued by foot.
It had been many cycles since she had been here and the crystals had grown and shifted around the area, so there were new paths she hadn't seen before.
One such winding path took her down far below the main level of the Conduit.
There, she was greeted by an underground energy pool encased in a cavern full of blue energy crystals.
The sight was beautiful, and she slipped into the shimmering energy to float along and rest.
As she floated, she drifted from cave to cave, each one containing crystals of a different color that imposed their wavelengths upon the energy below - and Ark and her circuits.
The caves made a ring around one in the middle, after doing a full circuit around, she slowly swam into the middle chamber to observe it.
There, the cavern was full of crystals of every size and color, but most impressive was the energyfall that flowed down one of the cave walls.
Surrounding the energyfall itself were the many colors of crystals, spiraling up it in a wonderous play of light.
The result was absolutely breathtaking.
Ark had heard that the Crystal Conduit contained the source of energy for all the falls around the Colony, and this astounding place felt like it should be that source itself.
After taking in the sights, she spent her time floating and swimming through the caverns of colorful lights.
Fortunately, there were rocky landings in all of the chambers, allowing her to climb up out of the energy and sit as long as she liked.
As far as places to hide and stay for a while, this one was among the best she could imagine.
((This post is for Ark on the Grid, but if anyone else wants to play, that's cool, too - it can be a memory or hologram or something.
Also, the Crystal Conduit is from the Tron: Evolution DS game, but I've done my own things with it - partially inspired by the purple water at sunset in Animal Crossing: Pocket Camp.))
"I learned from Bits. Gridbugs are like very angry, always hungry Bits. What works with one usually at least sort of works with the other." Call shrugged, going back to working on their eye drawing in the dust. "Bits hate the Red-tubes too. Will lead Gridbugs to them. Is why the Reds hate Bits - if they see a Bit inside their spaces, there are usually Gridbugs somewhere close, so they kill the Bit. Bits cannot hide as easy, and the Gridbugs get confused and lost inside without the Bit to help them."
"Bit and Gridbug... like Program and Virus. Very like each other, but also very different."
-
Ark tilted her head, she hadn't had much experience with Bits, certainly much less than she had fighting Gridbugs.
"Wow...I had no idea that they worked together. I assumed that the Gridbugs would eat Bits. And, I didn't know the Bits worked against the Occupation like that. I know they used to guide programs through the cities, though. Is there any way we can convince them to help us?"
"They don't usually. Bits normally get eaten by Gridbugs, but... when there is worse, they will help instead. Is like... if you have enemy, you fight enemy. Right? But then bigger enemy turns up - threat to you and your enemy. If you and your enemy are smart, then you and your enemy can agree to work together to deal with the bigger enemy. You are still enemies, but... both can put that away because there is worse enemy to deal with and two can fight it better than one."
"To a Bit, a Gridbug is an enemy to run away from. But... the Red is worse, and they cannot run away from it forever, and it will destroy them all instead of just the ones that are too slow or tired to run. And the Gridbugs agree getting rid of the Red is more important than eating Bits. So they work together to get rid of the Red."
Call grimaced. "Most Bits do not like Programs any more. Not hate, but... not trust. Too many are gone now, and the ones that are left lived because they ran away from Programs instead of helped. They will only help if they think it is worth it - if they can get away, should they need to. Easier to outrun Gridbugs, and Gridbugs do not have hands to grab with or build cages to trap them."
Ark nodded thoughtfully, "Makes sense, if something's worse, two or more togerher are much more powerful than just one."
She sighed, "Yeah...the Occupation will never stop, while Gridbugs eat because they have to."
Her heart sank when she heard that Bits didn't trust programs any more, "Oh...that explains why I haven't seen any in a very long time. I'm glad that there's some that got away, but heartbreaking that it's not safe for them to trust programs any more..."
"My template's fixing-mentor used to have a Bit. A Red tried to kill it." Call poked little diamonds around the corner of their eye drawing. "My template grabbed it out of the air and snuck it away to the Defender's den. It did not like being grabbed, but better grabbed than shattered." They smiled when they were done, deciding they were finished. "The Defender claims to not like the Bit, but it is only words. The snuggles and happy Bit say otherwise."
"Before there were Programs, there were Bits. After Programs, there will be Bits. They know how to survive. They hide, they sleep, they wait. They learn who they can and cannot trust, who sees them and who doesn't. They are very clever, for things that are important for Bits to be clever in."
"Sometimes thinking like a Bit is smarter than thinking like a Program, because Bits do not care about the silly parts of Program sensibilities. Bits do not care about things like colour or filetype, only about whether the new maybe-friend will be a friend or not."
"Many things to learn, from all of life. A flock is better than to be alone. The hive is only strong when all work together. The world is less scary when you let yourself learn about it. Filetypes do not matter, only actions and intent. A directive is not all that makes a core. Different does not mean bad. Sometimes to be safe you must become dangerous." Call listed off things they themself had learned from watching as much of the Grid as their short runtime had allowed. "Is good to be alive. Always more to see and do and learn, new friends to make and new places to explore."
Ark did her best to keep up with Call's list. It was a good list, but there was a lot to it, and it took her a tick to process it all.
"Sounds like you've learned a lot of fantastic things. Lessons some programs still haven't learned."
And some she hadn't been able to really put into practice, especially the ones about working with others, as she had been fighting alone for many, many cycles.
"I did not always learn from Programs - when I formed, the Red already existed, and Programs were forgetting how to trust." Call flexed their fingers. "My template taught me lots, but... if you sit by a lake long enough, sometimes the braver Bits come out of hiding. Always in more than ones, always bringing in lonely ones so they are no longer alone. If you hide and be sneaky, you can watch how Gridbugs work together to make their tunnels and move rocks many times their size. They teach too, in their own way."
"That is probably the most important thing I have learned. To watch and listen and learn from the world, not just from what you are told to learn from."
Ark sighed softly, "I'm sorry you didn't get to see the Grid before the Occupation took over. It was so much better..." It was better times, for sure.
"I didn't know Bits liked lakes, I'll have to try waiting around for some sometime." She didn't get out a lot, this particular excursion was a rare one for her. "And I had no idea that Gridbugs did anything but devour."
She nodded thoughtfully, "I'll have to remember that and pay more attention to everything else."
"See? Learning. Always learning, new things to find out. Correct bad information, confirm good, make more whole incomplete. And Gridbugs now less scary - some are fluffy, can treat like angry hungry Bit, easy to distract, hate the Red, do not eat people if other food available, make tunnels together. Not just eat and swarm, eat and swarm, eat and swarm."
Call shrugged. "I did not see before. But I will see after. When the Enemy and the Red are gone. I will see then. My template will see then. You will see then. The Defender will see then. My friends will see then. There will be an after, and we will all see it."
Ark gave Call a nod, "Right. And, yeah, it'll be interesting to try and work with those Gridbugs going forward."
She smiled, "Yeah, I'm looking forward to the cycle when the Occupation is gone. No more pain and suffering, no more forcing people to do bad. Just everybody working together to help each other out." Ark wasn't sure she'd survive to see that cycle, since fighting the Occupation was dangerous, but she still longed for that future, even if it was for everybody else's sake.
"We will see it." Call promised. "All will. The Red will not be here forever."
Eventually the young Infected got bored of their tile game and watching the fountain, scampering off as a small mob towards the centre of the square. They vanished into the twisted wreckage of several buildings, quick and lightfooted enough not to send any of the seemingly less stable sections tumbling down.
"And now they leave." Call noted. "But they will not be gone long. They like here, and will like it even more now the fountain is working. More fun with splashing each other."
"And, it'll be a cycle to remember when it happens," Ark replied, "The Grid will be free forever after that." Once the Occupation was gone, they could work towards making sure nobody could take over like that ever again.
It had been almost easy to forget about the presence of the Infected, Ark and Call had just talked together, a little more quietly than normal.
"Yeah, it's a lot nicer with the fountain working. Should we leave, too? That way they might feel more comfortable to come back without us here." Call knew more about them, so she'd let them make that call.
"As long as we do not follow them." Call decided. "That would be scary for them." They tilted their head one way, then the other. "Perhaps..."
"There is books. Lots of books, all in big place. None go in there, because they know they cannot touch the books or they will break the books." Call offered. "But Programs can touch the books."
"I have tried to keep the books safe - no wet on them, shoo the bugs away, careful careful touches with all of... this-" they pointed at their yellow circuits. "-kept as far away as I can. All books are good - even the ones that are wrong. As long as people know they are wrong, they are good to show how words can lie but seem good."
At the mention of books, Ark gasped. She had only seen the User artifacts in passing, but it made sense that some were here in Bostrum, as Flynn had said he was going to show them to the ISOs. It was nothing short of a miracle that they were still here, and even more so that they were still intact.
"Really? That's amazing! I didn't know there were any books still left on the Grid!"
They sounded delicate, but just looking at them couldn't hurt them, right?
Call nodded. "Many books. Some very strange, lots of thin things making the book. Some even stranger, thin things made of light making the book."
"I do not know what is in most of the books. Too many." Call hesitated. "Also it is hard to learn to read when you cannot touch the books. My template helps with words I do not know, and copies books so I can touch the copies, but... he cannot be here all the time, and copying takes long time. I still try, but... very hard. Worth learning, but big struggle."
Ark tilted her head, while she knew a little about books, she didn't know enough and Call's description of them was unfamiliar to her, "Huh, that's really weird..."
She frowned lightly at their problem with reading the books, it sounded tricky to work out. "I'm not sure if there's any way I can help, but I don't mind trying. I was programmed knowing how to read, so I don't know if I can teach it." But, there were other things she could do, like hold the books for Call.
Call shrugged. "Is okay. Thanks for offer, I just learn things in strange order. Was created odd, my template could read many things from first onlining but I could not. Can read Fortran-script, but not System-Native - no inbuilt translator, must form my own, and User-script is complicated."
"Is also why conversations hard. Speaking User words is not my default... audio output structure? Language. That." They hummed. "But also sentences are word formulae everyone agrees to pretend makes sense. Mine make mostly sense, follows similar structure, is good enough for now."
Ark gave them a nod, "You're welcome. And, huh, that's interesting that you can read some, but not others." She had never given thought to the complexities of reading and comprehending, but Call had a good point that it was more difficult than it initially appeared.
She agreed with them, "Right, I can understand you a lot of the time, and when I don't, I either figure it out or ask, so it works out."
"Asking is good. Asking is learning. Always good to learn." Call commented. "Is better to ask than assume."
They led Ark through the streets, occasionally ducking under archways formed of debris or hopping over low mounds of rubble. "I think is why the Enemy tries to break databases. If the Enemy is the only source of information, then people do not know to ask why he says things that are wrong. They may not even know the things are wrong."
"The Enemy did not manage to break this one. He tried, but almost all survived. Even the Pet decided to save the database instead of breaking it further."
Ark agreed with Call, then followed after them. Even though the path was tricky, she had no problems following them and keeping up.
She grimaced at what they said, "...that makes way too much sense. If they control everything, then there's no way to push back. And with them capturing people, the ones that remember might vanish."
Ark tilted her head, "That's strange, I wonder why this one was spared..."
"Everything is kind of broken - all the buildings. But in breaking all the buildings around the database, he made it very difficult to actually break the database. The building housing it is a little damaged, enough that the database was under threat, but the database itself? Disorganized, but mostly undamaged from initial attack. Rain did more damage, and here does not rain much." Call grasped at words. "Is... science. Like raytracing, but for explosions. Made shelter spot, and the database was all in it."
"And while the Pet was here, because big danger-Virus, nobody tried to get in the database. The Pet was not interested in damaging books, so the Pet left the books alone, but knew things in there were important so didn't let anyone else damage the books either. Now, with no Pet around, most have forgotten there was a database here and the ones that remember don't want to come looking. Is long way away, too far and wrong direction to lie about to Reds if can't make it home for curfew. Books are good. Books are not worth life."
After causing quite a bit of trouble for the Occupation, Ark decided that it was best for her to lay low for a while.
The area around Bostrum seemed like a good choice. The Colony had been infected and devastated, but the Crystal Conduit was far enough away that it likely was spared from the Virus' wrath.
The Conduit was full of energy and crystals, and also Gridbugs. But, she hadn't seen a swarm of them on her one previous visit, just a few here and there. The danger added to the relative safety of it, as most programs wouldn't venture out there.
The roads on the way to and from Bostrum were intact close to Tron City, but the further and further they got from the living City, the more damaged they became.
Ark's trek was slowed as she navigated the shattered roads, occasionally making a small detour into the Outlands to dodge debris.
Upon reaching Bostrum, she took a quick break on the outskirts to rest and replenish from the plentiful energyfalls that surrounded the former Colony. The Conduit was still further ahead.
Ark's travels took her through caves and canyons and the more crystals she saw, the closer she got to her destination.
Crystals dotted the rocky landscape as she compressed her light cycle into its baton and continued by foot.
It had been many cycles since she had been here and the crystals had grown and shifted around the area, so there were new paths she hadn't seen before.
One such winding path took her down far below the main level of the Conduit.
There, she was greeted by an underground energy pool encased in a cavern full of blue energy crystals.
The sight was beautiful, and she slipped into the shimmering energy to float along and rest.
As she floated, she drifted from cave to cave, each one containing crystals of a different color that imposed their wavelengths upon the energy below - and Ark and her circuits.
The caves made a ring around one in the middle, after doing a full circuit around, she slowly swam into the middle chamber to observe it.
There, the cavern was full of crystals of every size and color, but most impressive was the energyfall that flowed down one of the cave walls.
Surrounding the energyfall itself were the many colors of crystals, spiraling up it in a wonderous play of light.
The result was absolutely breathtaking.
Ark had heard that the Crystal Conduit contained the source of energy for all the falls around the Colony, and this astounding place felt like it should be that source itself.
After taking in the sights, she spent her time floating and swimming through the caverns of colorful lights.
Fortunately, there were rocky landings in all of the chambers, allowing her to climb up out of the energy and sit as long as she liked.
As far as places to hide and stay for a while, this one was among the best she could imagine.
((This post is for Ark on the Grid, but if anyone else wants to play, that's cool, too - it can be a memory or hologram or something.
Also, the Crystal Conduit is from the Tron: Evolution DS game, but I've done my own things with it - partially inspired by the purple water at sunset in Animal Crossing: Pocket Camp.))
"I learned from Bits. Gridbugs are like very angry, always hungry Bits. What works with one usually at least sort of works with the other." Call shrugged, going back to working on their eye drawing in the dust. "Bits hate the Red-tubes too. Will lead Gridbugs to them. Is why the Reds hate Bits - if they see a Bit inside their spaces, there are usually Gridbugs somewhere close, so they kill the Bit. Bits cannot hide as easy, and the Gridbugs get confused and lost inside without the Bit to help them."
"Bit and Gridbug... like Program and Virus. Very like each other, but also very different."
-
Ark tilted her head, she hadn't had much experience with Bits, certainly much less than she had fighting Gridbugs.
"Wow...I had no idea that they worked together. I assumed that the Gridbugs would eat Bits. And, I didn't know the Bits worked against the Occupation like that. I know they used to guide programs through the cities, though. Is there any way we can convince them to help us?"
"They don't usually. Bits normally get eaten by Gridbugs, but... when there is worse, they will help instead. Is like... if you have enemy, you fight enemy. Right? But then bigger enemy turns up - threat to you and your enemy. If you and your enemy are smart, then you and your enemy can agree to work together to deal with the bigger enemy. You are still enemies, but... both can put that away because there is worse enemy to deal with and two can fight it better than one."
"To a Bit, a Gridbug is an enemy to run away from. But... the Red is worse, and they cannot run away from it forever, and it will destroy them all instead of just the ones that are too slow or tired to run. And the Gridbugs agree getting rid of the Red is more important than eating Bits. So they work together to get rid of the Red."
Call grimaced. "Most Bits do not like Programs any more. Not hate, but... not trust. Too many are gone now, and the ones that are left lived because they ran away from Programs instead of helped. They will only help if they think it is worth it - if they can get away, should they need to. Easier to outrun Gridbugs, and Gridbugs do not have hands to grab with or build cages to trap them."
Ark nodded thoughtfully, "Makes sense, if something's worse, two or more togerher are much more powerful than just one."
She sighed, "Yeah...the Occupation will never stop, while Gridbugs eat because they have to."
Her heart sank when she heard that Bits didn't trust programs any more, "Oh...that explains why I haven't seen any in a very long time. I'm glad that there's some that got away, but heartbreaking that it's not safe for them to trust programs any more..."
"My template's fixing-mentor used to have a Bit. A Red tried to kill it." Call poked little diamonds around the corner of their eye drawing. "My template grabbed it out of the air and snuck it away to the Defender's den. It did not like being grabbed, but better grabbed than shattered." They smiled when they were done, deciding they were finished. "The Defender claims to not like the Bit, but it is only words. The snuggles and happy Bit say otherwise."
"Before there were Programs, there were Bits. After Programs, there will be Bits. They know how to survive. They hide, they sleep, they wait. They learn who they can and cannot trust, who sees them and who doesn't. They are very clever, for things that are important for Bits to be clever in."
"Sometimes thinking like a Bit is smarter than thinking like a Program, because Bits do not care about the silly parts of Program sensibilities. Bits do not care about things like colour or filetype, only about whether the new maybe-friend will be a friend or not."
"Many things to learn, from all of life. A flock is better than to be alone. The hive is only strong when all work together. The world is less scary when you let yourself learn about it. Filetypes do not matter, only actions and intent. A directive is not all that makes a core. Different does not mean bad. Sometimes to be safe you must become dangerous." Call listed off things they themself had learned from watching as much of the Grid as their short runtime had allowed. "Is good to be alive. Always more to see and do and learn, new friends to make and new places to explore."
Ark did her best to keep up with Call's list. It was a good list, but there was a lot to it, and it took her a tick to process it all.
"Sounds like you've learned a lot of fantastic things. Lessons some programs still haven't learned."
And some she hadn't been able to really put into practice, especially the ones about working with others, as she had been fighting alone for many, many cycles.
"I did not always learn from Programs - when I formed, the Red already existed, and Programs were forgetting how to trust." Call flexed their fingers. "My template taught me lots, but... if you sit by a lake long enough, sometimes the braver Bits come out of hiding. Always in more than ones, always bringing in lonely ones so they are no longer alone. If you hide and be sneaky, you can watch how Gridbugs work together to make their tunnels and move rocks many times their size. They teach too, in their own way."
"That is probably the most important thing I have learned. To watch and listen and learn from the world, not just from what you are told to learn from."
Ark sighed softly, "I'm sorry you didn't get to see the Grid before the Occupation took over. It was so much better..." It was better times, for sure.
"I didn't know Bits liked lakes, I'll have to try waiting around for some sometime." She didn't get out a lot, this particular excursion was a rare one for her. "And I had no idea that Gridbugs did anything but devour."
She nodded thoughtfully, "I'll have to remember that and pay more attention to everything else."
"See? Learning. Always learning, new things to find out. Correct bad information, confirm good, make more whole incomplete. And Gridbugs now less scary - some are fluffy, can treat like angry hungry Bit, easy to distract, hate the Red, do not eat people if other food available, make tunnels together. Not just eat and swarm, eat and swarm, eat and swarm."
Call shrugged. "I did not see before. But I will see after. When the Enemy and the Red are gone. I will see then. My template will see then. You will see then. The Defender will see then. My friends will see then. There will be an after, and we will all see it."
Ark gave Call a nod, "Right. And, yeah, it'll be interesting to try and work with those Gridbugs going forward."
She smiled, "Yeah, I'm looking forward to the cycle when the Occupation is gone. No more pain and suffering, no more forcing people to do bad. Just everybody working together to help each other out." Ark wasn't sure she'd survive to see that cycle, since fighting the Occupation was dangerous, but she still longed for that future, even if it was for everybody else's sake.
"We will see it." Call promised. "All will. The Red will not be here forever."
Eventually the young Infected got bored of their tile game and watching the fountain, scampering off as a small mob towards the centre of the square. They vanished into the twisted wreckage of several buildings, quick and lightfooted enough not to send any of the seemingly less stable sections tumbling down.
"And now they leave." Call noted. "But they will not be gone long. They like here, and will like it even more now the fountain is working. More fun with splashing each other."
"And, it'll be a cycle to remember when it happens," Ark replied, "The Grid will be free forever after that." Once the Occupation was gone, they could work towards making sure nobody could take over like that ever again.
It had been almost easy to forget about the presence of the Infected, Ark and Call had just talked together, a little more quietly than normal.
"Yeah, it's a lot nicer with the fountain working. Should we leave, too? That way they might feel more comfortable to come back without us here." Call knew more about them, so she'd let them make that call.
"As long as we do not follow them." Call decided. "That would be scary for them." They tilted their head one way, then the other. "Perhaps..."
"There is books. Lots of books, all in big place. None go in there, because they know they cannot touch the books or they will break the books." Call offered. "But Programs can touch the books."
"I have tried to keep the books safe - no wet on them, shoo the bugs away, careful careful touches with all of... this-" they pointed at their yellow circuits. "-kept as far away as I can. All books are good - even the ones that are wrong. As long as people know they are wrong, they are good to show how words can lie but seem good."
At the mention of books, Ark gasped. She had only seen the User artifacts in passing, but it made sense that some were here in Bostrum, as Flynn had said he was going to show them to the ISOs. It was nothing short of a miracle that they were still here, and even more so that they were still intact.
"Really? That's amazing! I didn't know there were any books still left on the Grid!"
They sounded delicate, but just looking at them couldn't hurt them, right?
Call nodded. "Many books. Some very strange, lots of thin things making the book. Some even stranger, thin things made of light making the book."
"I do not know what is in most of the books. Too many." Call hesitated. "Also it is hard to learn to read when you cannot touch the books. My template helps with words I do not know, and copies books so I can touch the copies, but... he cannot be here all the time, and copying takes long time. I still try, but... very hard. Worth learning, but big struggle."
Ark tilted her head, while she knew a little about books, she didn't know enough and Call's description of them was unfamiliar to her, "Huh, that's really weird..."
She frowned lightly at their problem with reading the books, it sounded tricky to work out. "I'm not sure if there's any way I can help, but I don't mind trying. I was programmed knowing how to read, so I don't know if I can teach it." But, there were other things she could do, like hold the books for Call.
Call shrugged. "Is okay. Thanks for offer, I just learn things in strange order. Was created odd, my template could read many things from first onlining but I could not. Can read Fortran-script, but not System-Native - no inbuilt translator, must form my own, and User-script is complicated."
"Is also why conversations hard. Speaking User words is not my default... audio output structure? Language. That." They hummed. "But also sentences are word formulae everyone agrees to pretend makes sense. Mine make mostly sense, follows similar structure, is good enough for now."
Ark gave them a nod, "You're welcome. And, huh, that's interesting that you can read some, but not others." She had never given thought to the complexities of reading and comprehending, but Call had a good point that it was more difficult than it initially appeared.
She agreed with them, "Right, I can understand you a lot of the time, and when I don't, I either figure it out or ask, so it works out."
"Asking is good. Asking is learning. Always good to learn." Call commented. "Is better to ask than assume."
They led Ark through the streets, occasionally ducking under archways formed of debris or hopping over low mounds of rubble. "I think is why the Enemy tries to break databases. If the Enemy is the only source of information, then people do not know to ask why he says things that are wrong. They may not even know the things are wrong."
"The Enemy did not manage to break this one. He tried, but almost all survived. Even the Pet decided to save the database instead of breaking it further."
Had an idea for a thread with fCon Ed - or, at least, Ed getting a friend and dragged out of fCon...... whether he realises he needs to get out, or not. Respond if interested :)
Eve peeked around the door of the tech conference's closing gala, eyeing the attendees. She wasn't supposed to be here. Wasn't supposed to be this side of the screen. Definitely wasn't supposed to be attempting to poach employees from rival companies.
But really, was it poaching when it felt more like a rescue?
Future Control Industries... Eve shuddered. She knew exactly what kind of Programs they had as flagships. The Master Control Program that had torn through her home before she was aware enough to understand what was wrong was proof enough.
But their new star programmer...
The child of the owner, named for the same. Intelligent, inventive, driven. A dangerous young man, second only to his father.
At least, according to the media.
Eve thought Edward Dillinger Junior looked... tired. Burnt out. Chained to the man who even now gripped his shoulder so tightly it couldn't be any less than painful.
In need of an Admin - someone to look out for him and help him thrive.
Eve could provide.
She flashed her pass, a gift from Lora Prime - unable to make the conference for health reasons - and stepped in to mingle. Her black dress shimmered pink in the lights, heels high and sharp, eyeliner like tiny knives.
The Legacy Grid had become a battleground not too dissimilar to this one, for all the weapons didn't leave visible wounds. And Eve was an Encom Program - designed, as they all were, to adapt and fight.
Ed always hated tech conferences. It's something he should have looked forward to. There were lots of good talks about the latest innovations, demos of the latest gadgets, lots of fascinating ideas.
It also meant he was stuck in close quarters with his father and no escape.
"Because of his disability," his father rationalized. And maybe that was part of it, but Ed was also aware it was to keep him in line. He had his entire schedule handed to him, every second of his day and a warning not to deviate.
By the time the closing gala arrived, Ed was exhausted. The ballroom was too loud, to bright, and Ed was out of patience for interacting with his father's business partners, or anyone. The only saving grace was the soft silk of his outfit expensive outfit. Ed doubted he could manage any other texture.
He just wanted to go back to the their suit at the hotel and sleep.
Ed snapped at a one of his father's business partners. Someone important, though Ed doesn't remember the man's name, and doesn't particularly care to.
His father squeezed his shoulder in warning.
It's only years of training and discipline that kept Ed from tensing or flinching. He apologized, then excused himself. His father stepped in to smooth things over, and Ed took the opportunity to attempt to disappear into the crowd, though he's aware Dymitr--Ed's "assistant", though Ed was fully aware that the man reported to his father and was truly there to keep him in line-- is following him, not too far behind.
He had been so focused on putting space between him and his father's business partner that he hadn't noticed the woman approaching until she was nearly upon him.
Expressing his anxieties never ended well. They were always dismissed as nothing, and if he did say anything and it did come true, nobody liked being told 'I told you so'.
He shook his head, and switched off the disc. "I'm fine."
He quickly put the disc back in its coat pocket. Or at least, attempted to, though it took several tries to find the opening and shove the disc back inside.
Ed slid the notepad across the table to Jet, then grabbed his tin of teas.
And here came the alternate definition of fine again. Jet didn't dare let any of the disbelief or scepticism coiling in his chest show - pushing Ed to find out something more truthful would just push Ed away and hurt him. "Cool. Let me know if that changes - easier to solve problems and avert them with two working together." Jet shifted one of the flasks so they were both in the same hand, scooping up the notebook with his newly empty one. "But if you're fine right now, that's fine too. I trust you."
"Off we go." Jet detoured around the kitchen bench to poke his head into the dining room. "Bye dad, love you. We're going out, got some stuff to do then a relax afternoon. Say bye to Yori for me, gonna go home after."
"Love you too, an leanbhín." Alan paused his sewing, looking over with a soft smile. "Have fun, both of you. Drive safe."
"I promise."
Jet rejoined Ed, a bounciness to his step. "To the garage we go, 's a short drive to the I/O tower - that's the easiest way out - and then only a short walk to my car from the laser lab. Longest part of it's gonna be waiting for the exterior door to open."
Silly idea: After Beck slowly discovers just how many partners Tron’s had, he starts assuming that pretty much any older program they encounter is someone that Tron dated at one point or another.
Which culminates in him assuming that Tron once dated Tesler. And silently thinking this for weeks until he casually refers to it in conversation and Tron’s like “????No????? Where did you hear this???”
After they both recover from the psychic damage, Tron sits him down and says “Ok we’re not doing that again. You got half an hour. Say a name, and I will say yes or no. No further questions. That’s all you’re getting.”
Alternatively he tells a Bit all the answers and gives it to Beck to tell him yes or no.
Beck winces. Talk about accessing audio output and immediately putting all available functional subroutines in it. "In my defence, it's hard to keep track?"
Tron, at maximum glower following Beck's mostly innocent mistake of assuming he and Tesler had been significantly more involved with each other than they were, radiates some combination of embarrassment, mutiny, and pure irritation. "Keep. Track?"
Yeah, Beck's fully aware he's going to be rammed into the training mats for this one. "Well- I don't know who you've dated and who you haven't? Aside from more than me." He attempts to explain. "And- the ones I do know about? You have a type. And that type is scarily competent. Tesler is... a lot of things, most of them bad, but he is scarily competent at a unique combat style." He raises his hands in surrender. "I know, not my business, you don't- privacy is a thing, and that's private. But- yeah. I assumed, and made a mistake. Sorry. Won't do it again."
"Hmph." Tron's glare lessens slightly. Very slightly. Less than a micron slightly. Barely enough to reassure Beck he isn't about to risk losing a limb next sparring session - though his dignity is still absolutely going to be so derezzed not even a team of Users could bring it back.
"You are still thinking about my dating history." Tron rumbles out at their next meeting, after a training session only slightly more brutal than usual.
Beck chokes on a mistimed sip of energy. "If it helps, I'm trying not to? After the... misunderstanding last time." He offers, once his coughing fit subsides. "Like I said, not my business."
"Yet mystery flows to curiosity, which in turn flows to speculation." Tron gives him the courtesy of not laughing aloud - at least as close as Tron gets to lauging aloud, with his barely-audible dry chuckle - at his misfortune. He tilts his head, pondering something, then nods at a nearby bench. "Sit."
Beck sits. The benches are for post-spar discussions, after all, and there always is one. Topics are varied and usually become debates, but they happen.
"Ask." Tron instructs, sitting close by himself.
"Uh-"
"You have questions. I would prefer to avoid repeats of last time. Ask." Tron repeats.
"Clarifications and parameters?" Beck starts slowly. "Before asking anything about- like I said, that stuff's private, I don't need to know what you don't want to share."
"Hm." Tron taps his knee. "Half an hour maximum. Names only. Yes or no responses, details only what I share with them. No off-topic questions."
"Cool. And- just going to put it out here, shocked exclamations aren't questions." Beck adds quickly. "In case there's- y'know. Unexpected confirmations or denials."
"Acceptable."
"Alright. So. The ones I already know. Definite yeses are Yori, Ram, and Able. Varying durations and levels of involvement." Beck lists off. "Sark was that admire from afar thing that went nowhere and would have ended badly anyway if it ever got started in the first place. Shaddox was- like Bodhi for me. Never managed to ask before it was too late. You got propositioned by Radia and Jalen - the ISO leaders? I think I got their names right. But didn't take them up on it. Zuse repeatedly asked you, because Zuse is Zuse, and you turned him down every time because Zuse is Zuse. I- I'm just gonna assume any Siren I can name falls into the same category."
"Correct, although Zuse did stop asking after the third rejection."
"Okay. And, well. Tesler, my assumption starting this whole thing. Definite no."
"Also correct." Tron grimaces at the memory.
"A probably not, but I'm asking anyway for a benchmark. Pavel."
"No." Tron shakes his head. "While betahood is... subjective, depending on development timelines, far too large a production gap. I'm a lot more experienced than he is, there'd be an imbalance."
"Right. I'm assuming Paige is out for the same reason." Beck teases.
"Correct. Also I do not intrude on existing relationships without consent."
"Noted. That rules out the DJ duo immediately, I assume." At Tron's nod, Beck thinks a moment. "...you might not like this one. Dyson."
Tron flinches. Full-body.
"Tron?" Beck asks quietly. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to. We can stop here."
"I-" Tron shudders, one hand pressed against his chest scars. "We did. I thought-" he swallows, looking away. "Betrayal never comes from enemies. I- I thought we'd be- that we'd have a future. Together."
"Oh." Beck pulls Tron in for a hug. The Monitor shakes, whether from rage or grief Beck can't tell, but doesn't pull away. "I'm sorry." Beck murmurs. "You deserved better."
"Thank you, Beck." Tron's voice comes quiet and hollow, full of old mourning and older pain. Echoes of a shattered heart, broken quite possibly irreparably under the weight of what its owner had been through. A possible forever, gone, taking all the others with it and leaving behind nothing but a bleeding wreck of what-ifs.
Beck says nothing, hugging Tron a little tighter. If tears dampen his shoulder, Beck will never tell.
"Continue." Tron's voice comes suspiciously thick, clinging to the questions so he doesn't have to reminisce further.
"A silly one. Jarvis."
"No, no, never." Tron glares with damp eyes. "How dare you."
"Alright, alright. I did say it was a silly one." Beck raises his hands in surrender, laughing slightly. "On a more serious note, Clu."
"No." The corner of Tron's mouth turns up, despite himself. "I considered it for a little under five minutes, but... well. Then he opened his mouth. Absolutely not."
Beck bursts out laughing, getting Tron chuckling too. "That is amazing, oh Flynn-!"
"Yes."
Beck freezes. Buffers. Slowly turns to stare at Tron, eyes dinnerplate-wide. "WHAT."
"Yes, Flynn." Tron's face scrunches, something incomprehensible flitting through his eyes. "Not for long, he wasn't here much and it didn't feel... right."
"I know you said no off-topic questions, but I now have so many questions." Beck blinks, trying to figure out how that would even work. "I- frankly I have no idea if that's impressive or blasphemous. Or both."
"Which is one of the reasons it didn't work out."
"Fair enough." Beck shakes his head. "Right. Okay. Significantly less... processor-breaking. Your team, minus Dyson. I don't know their names."
"Clax and Nord were dating each other, and weren't looking for a third, so no to both of them." Tron hums. "Reave was slightly older than you, so also no."
"Okay. I have run out of people not already excluded." Beck rests his shoulder against Tron's. "Anyone else you want to mention? You don't have to, but-"
"One." Tron nudges back. "Dyson and I, we-" his breath hitches, but he continues. "There was an ISO we were both interested in. His name was Nitro. Sharp, smart, funny, kind... good with betas and younger. But then..."
"Clu happened." Beck fills in the gap. "Clu and the betrayal happened."
"Yes." Tron looks down. "He vanished, had too big a target on his back and he knew it - Dyson knew I cared for him, tried to use that against me. I don't know what happened to Nitro after Arjia fell."
"Maybe he escaped. After all of this is over... maybe you'll find him again."
After causing quite a bit of trouble for the Occupation, Ark decided that it was best for her to lay low for a while.
The area around Bostrum seemed like a good choice. The Colony had been infected and devastated, but the Crystal Conduit was far enough away that it likely was spared from the Virus' wrath.
The Conduit was full of energy and crystals, and also Gridbugs. But, she hadn't seen a swarm of them on her one previous visit, just a few here and there. The danger added to the relative safety of it, as most programs wouldn't venture out there.
The roads on the way to and from Bostrum were intact close to Tron City, but the further and further they got from the living City, the more damaged they became.
Ark's trek was slowed as she navigated the shattered roads, occasionally making a small detour into the Outlands to dodge debris.
Upon reaching Bostrum, she took a quick break on the outskirts to rest and replenish from the plentiful energyfalls that surrounded the former Colony. The Conduit was still further ahead.
Ark's travels took her through caves and canyons and the more crystals she saw, the closer she got to her destination.
Crystals dotted the rocky landscape as she compressed her light cycle into its baton and continued by foot.
It had been many cycles since she had been here and the crystals had grown and shifted around the area, so there were new paths she hadn't seen before.
One such winding path took her down far below the main level of the Conduit.
There, she was greeted by an underground energy pool encased in a cavern full of blue energy crystals.
The sight was beautiful, and she slipped into the shimmering energy to float along and rest.
As she floated, she drifted from cave to cave, each one containing crystals of a different color that imposed their wavelengths upon the energy below - and Ark and her circuits.
The caves made a ring around one in the middle, after doing a full circuit around, she slowly swam into the middle chamber to observe it.
There, the cavern was full of crystals of every size and color, but most impressive was the energyfall that flowed down one of the cave walls.
Surrounding the energyfall itself were the many colors of crystals, spiraling up it in a wonderous play of light.
The result was absolutely breathtaking.
Ark had heard that the Crystal Conduit contained the source of energy for all the falls around the Colony, and this astounding place felt like it should be that source itself.
After taking in the sights, she spent her time floating and swimming through the caverns of colorful lights.
Fortunately, there were rocky landings in all of the chambers, allowing her to climb up out of the energy and sit as long as she liked.
As far as places to hide and stay for a while, this one was among the best she could imagine.
((This post is for Ark on the Grid, but if anyone else wants to play, that's cool, too - it can be a memory or hologram or something.
Also, the Crystal Conduit is from the Tron: Evolution DS game, but I've done my own things with it - partially inspired by the purple water at sunset in Animal Crossing: Pocket Camp.))
"I learned from Bits. Gridbugs are like very angry, always hungry Bits. What works with one usually at least sort of works with the other." Call shrugged, going back to working on their eye drawing in the dust. "Bits hate the Red-tubes too. Will lead Gridbugs to them. Is why the Reds hate Bits - if they see a Bit inside their spaces, there are usually Gridbugs somewhere close, so they kill the Bit. Bits cannot hide as easy, and the Gridbugs get confused and lost inside without the Bit to help them."
"Bit and Gridbug... like Program and Virus. Very like each other, but also very different."
-
Ark tilted her head, she hadn't had much experience with Bits, certainly much less than she had fighting Gridbugs.
"Wow...I had no idea that they worked together. I assumed that the Gridbugs would eat Bits. And, I didn't know the Bits worked against the Occupation like that. I know they used to guide programs through the cities, though. Is there any way we can convince them to help us?"
"They don't usually. Bits normally get eaten by Gridbugs, but... when there is worse, they will help instead. Is like... if you have enemy, you fight enemy. Right? But then bigger enemy turns up - threat to you and your enemy. If you and your enemy are smart, then you and your enemy can agree to work together to deal with the bigger enemy. You are still enemies, but... both can put that away because there is worse enemy to deal with and two can fight it better than one."
"To a Bit, a Gridbug is an enemy to run away from. But... the Red is worse, and they cannot run away from it forever, and it will destroy them all instead of just the ones that are too slow or tired to run. And the Gridbugs agree getting rid of the Red is more important than eating Bits. So they work together to get rid of the Red."
Call grimaced. "Most Bits do not like Programs any more. Not hate, but... not trust. Too many are gone now, and the ones that are left lived because they ran away from Programs instead of helped. They will only help if they think it is worth it - if they can get away, should they need to. Easier to outrun Gridbugs, and Gridbugs do not have hands to grab with or build cages to trap them."
Ark nodded thoughtfully, "Makes sense, if something's worse, two or more togerher are much more powerful than just one."
She sighed, "Yeah...the Occupation will never stop, while Gridbugs eat because they have to."
Her heart sank when she heard that Bits didn't trust programs any more, "Oh...that explains why I haven't seen any in a very long time. I'm glad that there's some that got away, but heartbreaking that it's not safe for them to trust programs any more..."
"My template's fixing-mentor used to have a Bit. A Red tried to kill it." Call poked little diamonds around the corner of their eye drawing. "My template grabbed it out of the air and snuck it away to the Defender's den. It did not like being grabbed, but better grabbed than shattered." They smiled when they were done, deciding they were finished. "The Defender claims to not like the Bit, but it is only words. The snuggles and happy Bit say otherwise."
"Before there were Programs, there were Bits. After Programs, there will be Bits. They know how to survive. They hide, they sleep, they wait. They learn who they can and cannot trust, who sees them and who doesn't. They are very clever, for things that are important for Bits to be clever in."
"Sometimes thinking like a Bit is smarter than thinking like a Program, because Bits do not care about the silly parts of Program sensibilities. Bits do not care about things like colour or filetype, only about whether the new maybe-friend will be a friend or not."
"Many things to learn, from all of life. A flock is better than to be alone. The hive is only strong when all work together. The world is less scary when you let yourself learn about it. Filetypes do not matter, only actions and intent. A directive is not all that makes a core. Different does not mean bad. Sometimes to be safe you must become dangerous." Call listed off things they themself had learned from watching as much of the Grid as their short runtime had allowed. "Is good to be alive. Always more to see and do and learn, new friends to make and new places to explore."
Ark did her best to keep up with Call's list. It was a good list, but there was a lot to it, and it took her a tick to process it all.
"Sounds like you've learned a lot of fantastic things. Lessons some programs still haven't learned."
And some she hadn't been able to really put into practice, especially the ones about working with others, as she had been fighting alone for many, many cycles.
"I did not always learn from Programs - when I formed, the Red already existed, and Programs were forgetting how to trust." Call flexed their fingers. "My template taught me lots, but... if you sit by a lake long enough, sometimes the braver Bits come out of hiding. Always in more than ones, always bringing in lonely ones so they are no longer alone. If you hide and be sneaky, you can watch how Gridbugs work together to make their tunnels and move rocks many times their size. They teach too, in their own way."
"That is probably the most important thing I have learned. To watch and listen and learn from the world, not just from what you are told to learn from."
Ark sighed softly, "I'm sorry you didn't get to see the Grid before the Occupation took over. It was so much better..." It was better times, for sure.
"I didn't know Bits liked lakes, I'll have to try waiting around for some sometime." She didn't get out a lot, this particular excursion was a rare one for her. "And I had no idea that Gridbugs did anything but devour."
She nodded thoughtfully, "I'll have to remember that and pay more attention to everything else."
"See? Learning. Always learning, new things to find out. Correct bad information, confirm good, make more whole incomplete. And Gridbugs now less scary - some are fluffy, can treat like angry hungry Bit, easy to distract, hate the Red, do not eat people if other food available, make tunnels together. Not just eat and swarm, eat and swarm, eat and swarm."
Call shrugged. "I did not see before. But I will see after. When the Enemy and the Red are gone. I will see then. My template will see then. You will see then. The Defender will see then. My friends will see then. There will be an after, and we will all see it."
Ark gave Call a nod, "Right. And, yeah, it'll be interesting to try and work with those Gridbugs going forward."
She smiled, "Yeah, I'm looking forward to the cycle when the Occupation is gone. No more pain and suffering, no more forcing people to do bad. Just everybody working together to help each other out." Ark wasn't sure she'd survive to see that cycle, since fighting the Occupation was dangerous, but she still longed for that future, even if it was for everybody else's sake.
"We will see it." Call promised. "All will. The Red will not be here forever."
Eventually the young Infected got bored of their tile game and watching the fountain, scampering off as a small mob towards the centre of the square. They vanished into the twisted wreckage of several buildings, quick and lightfooted enough not to send any of the seemingly less stable sections tumbling down.
"And now they leave." Call noted. "But they will not be gone long. They like here, and will like it even more now the fountain is working. More fun with splashing each other."
"And, it'll be a cycle to remember when it happens," Ark replied, "The Grid will be free forever after that." Once the Occupation was gone, they could work towards making sure nobody could take over like that ever again.
It had been almost easy to forget about the presence of the Infected, Ark and Call had just talked together, a little more quietly than normal.
"Yeah, it's a lot nicer with the fountain working. Should we leave, too? That way they might feel more comfortable to come back without us here." Call knew more about them, so she'd let them make that call.
"As long as we do not follow them." Call decided. "That would be scary for them." They tilted their head one way, then the other. "Perhaps..."
"There is books. Lots of books, all in big place. None go in there, because they know they cannot touch the books or they will break the books." Call offered. "But Programs can touch the books."
"I have tried to keep the books safe - no wet on them, shoo the bugs away, careful careful touches with all of... this-" they pointed at their yellow circuits. "-kept as far away as I can. All books are good - even the ones that are wrong. As long as people know they are wrong, they are good to show how words can lie but seem good."
At the mention of books, Ark gasped. She had only seen the User artifacts in passing, but it made sense that some were here in Bostrum, as Flynn had said he was going to show them to the ISOs. It was nothing short of a miracle that they were still here, and even more so that they were still intact.
"Really? That's amazing! I didn't know there were any books still left on the Grid!"
They sounded delicate, but just looking at them couldn't hurt them, right?
Call nodded. "Many books. Some very strange, lots of thin things making the book. Some even stranger, thin things made of light making the book."
"I do not know what is in most of the books. Too many." Call hesitated. "Also it is hard to learn to read when you cannot touch the books. My template helps with words I do not know, and copies books so I can touch the copies, but... he cannot be here all the time, and copying takes long time. I still try, but... very hard. Worth learning, but big struggle."
Ark tilted her head, while she knew a little about books, she didn't know enough and Call's description of them was unfamiliar to her, "Huh, that's really weird..."
She frowned lightly at their problem with reading the books, it sounded tricky to work out. "I'm not sure if there's any way I can help, but I don't mind trying. I was programmed knowing how to read, so I don't know if I can teach it." But, there were other things she could do, like hold the books for Call.
Call shrugged. "Is okay. Thanks for offer, I just learn things in strange order. Was created odd, my template could read many things from first onlining but I could not. Can read Fortran-script, but not System-Native - no inbuilt translator, must form my own, and User-script is complicated."
"Is also why conversations hard. Speaking User words is not my default... audio output structure? Language. That." They hummed. "But also sentences are word formulae everyone agrees to pretend makes sense. Mine make mostly sense, follows similar structure, is good enough for now."
Had an idea for a thread with fCon Ed - or, at least, Ed getting a friend and dragged out of fCon...... whether he realises he needs to get out, or not. Respond if interested :)
Eve peeked around the door of the tech conference's closing gala, eyeing the attendees. She wasn't supposed to be here. Wasn't supposed to be this side of the screen. Definitely wasn't supposed to be attempting to poach employees from rival companies.
But really, was it poaching when it felt more like a rescue?
Future Control Industries... Eve shuddered. She knew exactly what kind of Programs they had as flagships. The Master Control Program that had torn through her home before she was aware enough to understand what was wrong was proof enough.
But their new star programmer...
The child of the owner, named for the same. Intelligent, inventive, driven. A dangerous young man, second only to his father.
At least, according to the media.
Eve thought Edward Dillinger Junior looked... tired. Burnt out. Chained to the man who even now gripped his shoulder so tightly it couldn't be any less than painful.
In need of an Admin - someone to look out for him and help him thrive.
Eve could provide.
She flashed her pass, a gift from Lora Prime - unable to make the conference for health reasons - and stepped in to mingle. Her black dress shimmered pink in the lights, heels high and sharp, eyeliner like tiny knives.
The Legacy Grid had become a battleground not too dissimilar to this one, for all the weapons didn't leave visible wounds. And Eve was an Encom Program - designed, as they all were, to adapt and fight.
Ed always hated tech conferences. It's something he should have looked forward to. There were lots of good talks about the latest innovations, demos of the latest gadgets, lots of fascinating ideas.
It also meant he was stuck in close quarters with his father and no escape.
"Because of his disability," his father rationalized. And maybe that was part of it, but Ed was also aware it was to keep him in line. He had his entire schedule handed to him, every second of his day and a warning not to deviate.
By the time the closing gala arrived, Ed was exhausted. The ballroom was too loud, to bright, and Ed was out of patience for interacting with his father's business partners, or anyone. The only saving grace was the soft silk of his outfit expensive outfit. Ed doubted he could manage any other texture.
He just wanted to go back to the their suit at the hotel and sleep.
Ed snapped at a one of his father's business partners. Someone important, though Ed doesn't remember the man's name, and doesn't particularly care to.
His father squeezed his shoulder in warning.
It's only years of training and discipline that kept Ed from tensing or flinching. He apologized, then excused himself. His father stepped in to smooth things over, and Ed took the opportunity to attempt to disappear into the crowd, though he's aware Dymitr--Ed's "assistant", though Ed was fully aware that the man reported to his father and was truly there to keep him in line-- is following him, not too far behind.
He had been so focused on putting space between him and his father's business partner that he hadn't noticed the woman approaching until she was nearly upon him.
Ed nodded. Perhaps some time, when he wasn't so overwhelmed, he might like to meet him.
...On the other hand if he worked with Tron...
Better not poke a sleeping dragon.
He followed Jet into the kitchen, cautiously peering into the rooms as they passed.
"Please," he said, barely above a whisper. He could still only barely tolerate the sound of his own voice, feeling drained just from standing.
...The cafe sounded nice. He'd have to track it down, once he'd... settled somewhat. Figured out what to do with his life, some form of income, how to survive the week once he left Encom's Grid.
"Any time. Now go sit, get comfy, I'll bring this over to you. Tea's always best somewhere cozy." Jet didn't even hesitate in bringing down the good mugs - a design Ed would recognize, given they matched Eve's - adding a teaspoon of the white tea to a blue-green iridescent mug covered in shifting scales. His own tea - the same blend, but with added butterfly pea flowers for no purpose other than turning it blue - went into a mug covered in a veritable rainbow of dots.
Ed glanced around, then pulled out a chair from the kitchen table almost silently, and then sank into it.
The cups looked vaguely familiar, though in the chaos of the past two weeks, Ed couldn't tell if they were exactly the same ones that Eve had or not, and even if they were... Perhaps they had just come from the same place?
Jet was half-expecting Ed to head for the living room - comfier seats, clearer surroundings, far less cramped - but the kitchen bench was good too. Still comfy chairs, still relaxing, somewhere relatively familiar in a world turned on its head quite literally overnight.
Jet supposed it depended on which discomfited Ed more - the view out over the Grid from the living room windows, or the way the kitchen bench seats meant Ed had his back to a door.
"Here." Jet placed the mug down in front of Ed, along with an empty saucer - "for the strainer, once you've decided it's brewed enough" - and sat down at the end of the bench. He couldn't watch all the doors for Ed's sake, but he could keep an eye on the hallway. After all, if anyone unexpected was going to approach, it would be from there.
Admittedly, what was most discomfiting was the idea of being alone in a house full of near strangers who might walk into the room at any moment, and whose reactions Ed had no way to predict. While he would rather have his back to a wall and no way to sneak up on him, the place he felt most comfortable with was with the one person who was predictable, who, for reasons he could not comprehend, never hated him, and still didn't, even after everything that happened that night.
"Thank you," Ed replied.
...The tea smelled nice, with just a hint of floral notes.
Had this blend been one of the ones they'd kept in stock at the tea shop he used to work at?
"Any time, Ed. Any time." Jet hummed, cupping his hands around his mug - too hot to drink yet, but nice to hold.
The quiet, save for the hum of Alan's sewing machine once he started using it, started out peaceful enough. Ed, though, seemed to get... not fidgety, exactly, as it stretched, but certainly uncomfortable with the lack of talking. Like he was expecting someone to say something that wasn't coming, bracing himself for some diatribe that wasn't happening.
"Anything you want to do today?" Jet asked after a while. "I know we should probably check out that PO box for you, see what's there, but... the whole day's open. We could go to a park, if you want? Grab a picnic, and some birdseed, relax for a few hours feeding the ducks and pidgeons?" He shrugged. "I have all day, I don't mind."
After a few minutes, Ed removed the the strainer from his cup, and set it on the saucer, careful not to drip on the table.
He knew he had this tea before, but it was none of the ones he remembered restocking in the early mornings, was he forgetting one?
Ed lifted the cup to his lips, careful to keep a solid grip on the cup so he wouldn't drop it--
That taste. He knew that taste--
A bouquet of violets decorating a table with a white table cloth, and expensive china plates at each setting. A string quartet, friends of his new aunt's, playing classical music. His aunt--his father's sister, looking stunning in her purple tuxedo as she danced with her wife...
A blue tin, only big enough for a few sachets of tea, slipped into his jacket pocket when his father refused to take it.
Oh no.
Another event, more recent--this time one of his father's associates. This time the decorations all white. The groom's white suit doing his already pale complexion and pale blond hair no favors. His father glowering at him while he sweated over which option would incur the least judgement among a table with no right options. A cubical tea tin, in the same shade of blue, and in elegant cursive on the side--
Wedding Tea
...Did--did Jet know?
Did he--? Was he trying to--?
Was he--proposing? to him???
Ed set the mug down, somewhat glad his hands had been unsteady before, careful to keep the realization or panic out of his expression, his face a careful, bland mask.
It took a minute for his reeling mind to realize that Jet had asked him something, and to catch up with what had been asked.
"I--" He wasn't sure what he wanted. He wasn't sure there what he could reasonably do with his limited energy without tiring out. Feeding the birds, at least, seemed like something he could do without pushing himself too hard.
"Alright, after we check your PO box we'll swing past a pet store to get some birdseed - there's a really nice one run by a local family. And- wait, do you have an epipen on you? More for security's sake than anything, better safe than sorry. If you don't, and there's a prescription in the box, we should probably pick that up too." Jet frowned into his tea. He hadn't seen one in Ed's inventory, but then again he hadn't exactly looked either. "Allergies are serious, and while I promise to be as careful as I can for you there's not- being careful isn't a guarantee, and I'd rather be overprepared."
Ed looked up at Jet, careful to keep his expression to... an acceptable amount of interest. He hadn't been in one in ages. Not since it was just him and his mother living together. She used to like looking at the fish, had always wanted a saltwater tank that would take up the whole living room wall, and would make collages of what decorations and fish she'd put in it.
Ed had been captivated by the sweet song of the canaries, the energy of the finches, the intelligence behind the African grey parrot's eyes, and the sweet docility of the doves.
He froze at the mention of the epi-pen. Any talk about his healthcare had always been... a quick way to anger his father.
He glanced up at Jet, his grip tightening slightly around the hot ceramic mug in his hand. "I--ah, no," he stuttered.
Jet took a deep breath, and let it out. That was... another thing he'd suspected, and hoped he was wrong about. "Alright. We're definitely getting that today."
Getting mad will not help Ed. Getting mad will not help Ed. Getting mad will do the exact opposite of helping Ed. None of this is Ed's fault, getting mad will not help Ed.
"I'm not mad at you." Jet watched the steam rising from his tea in ribbons and whorls, voice calm but knuckles clenched white as he gripped his mug. "I'm angry at that waste of space daring to call itself your father, because an epipen is life-saving medication and to withhold it from you when it's in your name and should be in your possession is illegal. I'm a little angry at myself, because normally I keep one in the first aid kit of my car - I'm first-aid qualified and allowed to carry one - but it lapsed and I haven't replaced it yet. If it hadn't, I'd be giving it to you, but I can't do that because I didn't pay attention and let the fucking thing expire. I am furious at everyone who thought it was okay for you to be treated like that, letting someone put your life at risk just for that bastard to feel important and powerful."
"But none of that is your fault. Could never be your fault. I am not mad at you."
"So I am going to calm down, and we are going to fix the problem. Starting with getting you any and all the medication you should be on, because you having immediate access to the things that keep you alive and in the best possible health is a necessity, not a privilege." Jet closed his eyes a moment, then looked at Ed. "No one gets to hold that much power over whether you live or die."
Not mad at you was the biggest lie ever told, from Ed's previous experience, and the times it wasn't, either the implied disappointment was worse, or it didn't stop his father from taking out his anger on him.
His heart beat rapidly, his pulse echoing loudly in his head.
Ed set his mug down as quietly as he could hands shaking so much the tea treated to spill over the lip. He haunched his shoulders, wishing he could disappear.
He'd hoped that Jet would have assumed he just left his epi-pen on his desk, that he didn't want to risk the medicine getting digitized incorrectly or corrupting or worse, that he wouldn't realize or ask why he wasn't allowed.
He didn't have his wallet and didn't know the information for health insurance.
Jet just breathed for a while - focusing on the smell of his tea, the coolness of the benchtop, the whir of Alan's sewing machine. Safe things, familiar things, pulling him back down to something approaching an even keel.
Ed was scared enough. He didn't need to see Jet lose his temper, even if he wasn't and would never be the target of it.
"Ed?" Jet asked quietly. "What can I do to help prove to you I'm not going to hurt you?"
"I'm not- you don't have to trust me yet. Too many have broken your trust. I'd like the chance to earn your trust, that's all. But you've gotta give me a map, Ed, so I don't hurt you on the way."
"I'm- I'm scared. You've been hurt for so long, in so many different ways, and I know I don't know all of it. I'm scared of finding out how bad it was, how close we came to losing you, knowing I can't go back and change that. I can't timetravel to when we were sixteen and get you out of that fucking house, consequences be damned - or even earlier, if I could." Jet reached out, palm up - waiting, giving Ed the choice of accepting his hand or not. "But I can't do that, I can only change from now."
"I want to help you. I want to give you somewhere safe, where you can be yourself, in charge of your own life and able to be Ed. I want to lift as much of that weight off your shoulders as I can, help you carry it until you feel like you can let it go for good."
"But I don't know how to do that yet, because- I'm a Bradley, at the end of the day. I'm teeth and claws, another dog in a world where you've already been thrown to the wolves. I'm not good at being safe - a sword isn't a shield, and I don't know how to be a shield. And while I'm gonna do my damndest to make sure I never hurt you, I don't know how to not scare you because you know better than anyone that if you let me that close I could."
"I'm not angry at you. I don't think I ever could be. But I am scared for you. The world for the most part has not been kind to you, and I'm terrified of you getting crushed or killed by it just because some prick with more ego than sense or money - and he has a lot of the latter - thinks it's okay to treat you like a thing."
What did Ed need from Jet so that he could trust him? It's not... really a question he's ever thought about. People had a tendency to reveal themselves quickly when they heard the name Dillinger. They either pretended to like him because of his father's wealth and the power it bought, or hated him for his father's corruption.
Very few saw Ed for who he was.
And for reasons Ed couldn't understand. Jet didn't hate him, when he among almost everyone else should.
He wanted to trust Jet. There had been a point, before Ed knew who he was placing that trust in, where Ed had let him into a very small part of his life, and trusted the faceless E.nigma more than anyone else in his life.
That had been before his health took a sharp decline, before he'd had to accept his fate at fCon because no one else in the industry would hire him, and his father found out about his betrayal.
He didn't know if he could ever trust anyone again.
"I don't--"
What do you mean you don't know? Use that brain of yours. FIGURE IT OUT!
He couldn't reasonably tell Jet to never be mad at him.
Nor could he ask him to not touch him. That never went over well.
He just wanted the world to stop playing dice with his life long enough he could think clearly.
"Just..." Space? He didn't want Jet to think he was pushing him away, not when he finally had a friend--
"...stay.... Please."
Just give him something constant to hold on to... please.
"Okay. I'll stay." Jet promised quietly. "I'll stay. And if I can't physically stay, I'll make sure you know where I am, and I'll always come back to you." A safe port in a storm, steady ground in a shifting world, a constant among the change. Jet could do that.
So few in Ed's life had ever kept their promise, and Jet couldn't keep that promise forever, but in the few short days--hours? Ed had no idea how to count the time in here--that he knew Jet as... well Jethro Bradley, and not E. Nigma, he'd done as he said he would.
Ed wanted to trust Jet. He wanted to be able to trust him completely. He already trusted him more than anyone else that had been in his life between when he'd come back from Pennsylvania and last night's board meeting--had already had so many vulnerabilities exposed it felt like Jet could reach into his chest and crush his heart with his bare hand if he wanted to, and that terrified him. And yet--
Nobody ever stayed. Not for long. Once Jet helped Ed figure out the what next, he would probably leave too.
He knew that was just the skeptic in his head talking, that he couldn't know for certain it would happen that way.
He wanted this time to be different, wanted to believe that someone would stay a constant in his life that actually wanted him as a person, someone other than his father and the bastard's sycophant.
Only time would tell.
Ed blinked, his eyes suddenly moist. He picked up his mug of tea, both hands still trembling, and took a drink, trying to clear his throat.
He was not going to cry. Not here, not now. Not when there were too many others he didn't trust--
"O--okay..." he said, as loud and clear and smooth as he could without his voice wavering or betraying him--which was barely above a whisper.
"Any time, Ed." Jet had to listen hard to catch Ed's voice, but heard every word - and the stuttered syllables where his breath didn't quite hold steady, the tripped-up words where his thoughts fell over each other between truthful and guarded. "Any time at all."
He took another drink, and focused on it's citrusy notes and floral aromt. The faintly warm ceramic in his hands.
Anything besides the maelstrom of emotion.
He set his mug down and stared at it's tea-stained bottom, unable to look up at Jet and torn between wishing for more and needing to get up, and get moving before he spiraled.
"So, three things to do today. Only three." Jet hummed quietly. "Checking the PO box, getting your medication, and feeding the birds. Unless you want to do more, but don't push yourself on my account."
"If you want, we can have a picnic at the same time as we feed the birds? Bring some flasks, a few different teas, get some food. Hang out, you know? Soak up some sun, stuff like that."
Three things. That's all that was planned for the day. Just three.
...Ed had no idea if he could do even that. He was still exhausted and could hardly walk. He couldn't guess if he's collapse before they got to the park and feeding the birds, or if he's even make it through the first task.
And that was nothing to day of the anxiety of adding food to the equation. They'd probably have to stop somewhere to pick something up.
"That sounds nice," he admitted. Would be, if he could make it that far.
"Wanna look through the teas? Pick ones you'll enjoy?" Jet invited. "Don't worry about the topmost shelf - everything up there is a duplicate of something lower down - but anything on the other two is fair game. Maybe grab a few - travel tins are on the bottom shelf, they're all multi-compartment so you can take a selection."
"And I'll make sure the travel mugs have strainers, so you don't have to limit yourself to teabags - hot water can go in its own flasks, means you don't have to worry at ending up with a super-blend that doesn't taste all that great if you decide to switch."
Normally Jet would just take the entire tea tin or box, and maybe leave a note if he remembered. Ed, significantly less used to being allowed to do that, would most likely not handle doing so quite as well - at minimum, limiting his tea selection to those tentatively and somewhat arbitrarily labeled as safe choices, instead of ones he actually enjoyed. So, the travel tins it was.
Ed nodded, and hesitantly pushed himself to his feet.
He froze, palms flat against the table and teeth grit against the wave of vertigo from standing so quickly.
It took him a moment to hazard shuffling back toward the cabinets to pick through the teas.
...so many options.
How many was he supposed to pick?
The white tea had been nice, and... Jet drank it too and nobody said anything, so it had to be safe?
Ed picked up the blue tin to set it aside.
Wedding Tea
...so he had remembered that correctly.
Oh no.
Did Jet--Jet definitely knew. There was no way he didn't know, didn't intentionally--
...if he put it in the stash did that... count as accepting Jet's proposal? Did he--he'd asked Jet to stay, did he think--?
Ed didn't--!
He likes Jet, but he doesn't like people like that. He's broken. Jet wouldn't want when he can't reciprocate those feelings.
Ed cautiously set the tin down. He didn't want to upset Jet by discarding it, but--
If he just kept staring at the tin, Jet would get impatient. He's just picking teas. It wasn't...
He'd just lost his life as he knew it, he wasn't ready to make a decision like that!
Ed picked up the next tea. Lavender Lemon. Tempting, he liked the floral teas, liked the way they smelled, but-- he was going to be judged for that one, Jet was going to make fun of him he--
They're doing that thing, with secret messages, aren't they? Like the Victorians did with flowers?
He didn't remember how flower language worked, how was he supposed to do that with tea?
Moroccan mint. Most likely safe....
He continued to look through the rest of the assortment. By the time he was done, he had half a dozen teas that he hoped were... hopefully safe and hopefully not giving a message that would upset Jet.
Jet finished off his own tea, watching the doors both to give Ed some privacy choosing his teas and to make sure no one came in without warning. It didn't really matter how long Ed took - there were a lot of options, and Jet knew he didn't remember what all of Ed's allergies were. While the bulk were probably safe, checking the teas to confirm Ed could drink them and they wouldn't cause problems took time.
Jet already knew which teas he wanted, anyway. Getting them wouldn't take long.
He didn't get up until Ed indicated he was done choosing, the eight-slot black travel tin Ed had apparently decided to use already at least partially filled and closed up so no one could even guess what blends were inside.
"Any you can't have?" Jet asked, picking up his own travel tin decorated with cartoonish praying mantises. "So I don't accidentally buy you a tea you can't drink." He filled one of the compartments with a black tea and cornflower blend. "That's not- I have money, I like spending it. Especially on things for family and friends, gifts for just because. I don't expect things back, gifts are gifts not obligations. But at the same time it's not really fair to you if I buy you something you don't like or can't enjoy."
A wildberry tea and a Paris Black blend joined Jet's picks, along with a chamomile and honey tea and a few spoonfuls from a jar of something that looked a lot like pure gold glitter dust. "This thing's weird. Cool patterns from the convection currents though." Jet hummed, amused, rolling the jar between his hands once he'd resealed it. "Chrysanthemum tea, but also edible glitter. It's very sparkly, and pretty nice, though it doesn't really work if you try adding it to other teas. You just get the other tea, but sparkly, and maybe a hint of undefined plant if you put in too much of this."
"Uh, only like, the ones with almond flavoring, usually," Ed responded hesitantly. "Or any other nuts, I haven't come across any with anything else that's not safe. The plain or fruit ones are safe."
Ed glanced at the shimmering gold powder. "Oh."
On any other occasion, the chrysanthemum tea would have piqued Ed's curiosity. Today, the mental image of a gold drink was a little too close to fCon's energy, and the nightmare he'd rather put as far behind him as possible.
"Alright, I'll avoid anything with nuts. Or potential nuts." Jet promised, already thinking through what was in the kitchen of the house he was living in while Lora figured out what to do with it. He could already think of a handful of things that weren't Ed-safe there, but he could probably just give them and any other unsafe food to Sam.
"I don't think I've ever actually been to a wedding where this tea was an option." Jet commented, putting the Wedding Tea tin back. "Granted, I haven't been to many weddings in general, but... seems kind of silly to me to have a tea just for special occasions like that - if you like it, and you can get it, why not have it? Being alive is a special enough occasion, life's too short to not have the things you like when you want them."
He picked a hibiscus and apple tea as his last choice, closing up the travel tin and starting to put the assorted teas away. "Let me know if you change your mind or want any of these as well as what you've already got. I'll get them down for you, it's no problem."
Jet's never... encountered Wedding Tea at a wedding? Was he overthinking the situation? Did it really... mean nothing? Or at least not what Ed thought it did? Ed didn't know if he was more confused or less.
What did it mean???
"I, ah, I've only encountered the tea twice before," Ed admitted. "First at Theo's wedding, and then... at a wedding one of the shareholders invited us to a couple years back. Maybe it shouldn't be... just for weddings, because then who knows how often you'll get it, but... that's part of the point of reserving things for special occasions-- it makes it... special? Kinda like... I dunno. ...Christmas custard, or... something like that."
He glanced at his own set of teas one last time, then back up at the cabinet. Did he want...
Or maybe he should switch out the Darjeeling for the strawberry honeybush? Or maybe the green chai?
He'd try the all in one sitting, afraid that he'd never get another chance, but didn't dare take more than he had.
Ed shook his head and closed his tin. "I think I'm done." He'd probably never make a decision otherwise.
"Mmm, yeah, I see your point. If you have something that's supposed to be special too often, it stops being special and starts being ordinary, yeah?" Jet checked. "Though I guess- I guess it also depends on how you define special."
"We tend to treat teas - and food in general - as more ordinary than special, because what's the point of leaving half a tin of tea up on the shelf for who knows how long until the next special enough occasion happens? It could go off, and then you don't even have it for the special occasion. Drink it, enjoy it, life's too short to waste it or deny yourself the treat." He shrugged. "A special occasion for us is more about the people. Getting to see each other, having fun, sharing stories or just spending time together. Mom and Dad both have large families but since they're scattered all over the place we don't see everyone often. Meeting up? That's our kind of special. The food and drink is just something you happen to have as well, since everyone needs to eat at some point."
"Alright, I'll put these back for now." Jet hummed, doing exactly that - putting the two teas that weren't Ed-safe together to one edge of a shelf, so grabbing a tea at random was less likely to be one Ed couldn't have. "Can always have different ones next time, right?"
Ed shrugs. He'd never considered that special occasions were supposed to be about the other people.
Of course they were supposed to be, but--The rest of the Dillingers were in England, and the McLaughlins, last he remembered, were spread between North Carolina and Maine. While the rest of the Dillingers weren't... terrible, the one time he'd visited, his father had managed to cause so much tension, it had been impossible for Ed to connect with any of them.
Holidays meant Ed was trapped with his father for the vacation when he was a kid, lonely weeks working at the tea shop between university semesters while everyone else went home, or now having the duty of entertaining fCon's investors at the lavish company parties his father hosted.
"Oh," he said, shoulders hunched in a little more.
He glanced back at the teas.
"Right," he echoed.
...It was still hard to believe there would be a next time, that any of this would last any stretch of time, even if he knew his father had no intention for him to go home, even if he wanted to, or if Jet promised he wouldn't.
"That's the spirit." Jet hummed. "Life's too short to not try tea."
"Alright, I'll just grab the flasks, and the mugs. Could you please step left a little, just need to get in this cupboard- thanks Ed. There's an exit that'll take us out into Encom not too far from here, and that in itself won't be too far from my car." Jet busied himself with boiling enough water for two large thermos flasks, so there'd be more than enough for tea. "In the meantime, aside from the tea and everything you have on you that you came into the Grid with, anything you want to have with you when we're out? It's just a toggle setting, easy to change - means if you want your new coat, for instance, you can have it."
The mention of Encom filled him with dread. He hadn't been there since the interview. He'd felt like everyone had watched him as he made his way to the interview room, like they saw the name on his visitor's badge, and knew he didn't belong.
That had been before he'd been rejected.
Reluctantly, he pulls his disc out of it's pocket, and slowly navigates to his inventory, only half remembered from the day--night? before--from earlier, it felt like an eternity ago. The coat was nice, but a bit too warm for a summer day in So-Cal. Still...
"W--what happens to my disc, when we leave?" he asked.
Was he going to have to carry it around for the rest of his life?
... Did he need anything else from the grid when they leave? Did he want anything?
"Wh- oh! Oh, yeah, thought I forgot to say something. Couldn't for the life of me remember what." Jet clicked his fingers absently, acknowledging the reminder. "Sorry Ed. Right, your disc, leaving the Grid. Kind of up to you what happens to it."
"Default is it kind of- merges with you? Sounds way scarier than it is, it's just- we are not the Ood, we don't have a second brain. I don't know the exact science of it, but the physical disc and anything stored on it ends up kind of just. Not existing physically. You'll have it if you come back onto the Grid, but not when you're not on it."
"There is the option to have it with you as a physical thing, but it's way smaller. Necklace pendant smaller, the kind you can hide under your clothes. Most Programs I've met that have left the Grid do that, even if they're only off it for short bursts. More as a physical reassurance they still have it thing than because it does anything."
"...Oh." Ed wasn't sure if that helped or not. At least that meant it was a choice. Though on one hand... not having to worry about losing it was a relief, on the other... there were a million what-if's.
At least it meant he didn't need the coat to carry it around.
...The coat was nice. Soft, and big enough to hide in. But. California summer.
Reluctantly, Ed turned off the display on his disc. Better not to worry about carrying something else around that could get lost or be taken away. The same for the coat, and everything else on the disc.
That was, of course, assuming he would eventually come back to the Grid.
Jet hummed quietly to himself, fishing out two miniature flasks as well as both large silver thermoses - one relatively pristine chrome, and the other black but dented and its attached cup held together with red electrical tape. He made sure to wash both out while the kettle boiled - more precautionary than needed, but since he couldn't remember what teas had been in either it was safer for Ed to do so.
"Wanna write down the address of the post office we'll be getting the PO Box key from, and the pharmacy your Programs mentioned they'd already handled your prescriptions at? Makes things a bit easier, so we can plan a route - less time travelling, more time relaxing and feeding bird friends." Jet offered a notepad and pencil for Ed, leaving them on the kitchen bench so he could fill the thermos flasks.
Ed was fairly certain that he knew where the pharmacy was, even if it wasn't where he usually got his prescriptions filled, but... was he certain it wasn't the pharmacy on west side, not the east side?
Better to double check.
Ed pulled up the file, and wrote down the addresses listed.
He navigated out of the document, and stared at the readme file listed in the directory, as though he was frozen. Hesitantly, he opened the file and read through it again.
He still didn't know what to make of it. Was it a trap? Why would Thanatos... go through the effort of all of this to help him? But also why would xe go through the effort of such an elaborate trap when xe had already captured them?
"Alright, that's everything from here." Jet scooped up the flasks, travel mugs, and his tea tin, fitting the last three into a small backpack and hefting one of the former two in each hand. "Got your tea tin, Ed? Everything you need for now?"
He paused a moment, taking Ed's expression in. "Okay, that's your thinking face. What's up, Ed? Anything I can do to help?"
Expressing his anxieties never ended well. They were always dismissed as nothing, and if he did say anything and it did come true, nobody liked being told 'I told you so'.
He shook his head, and switched off the disc. "I'm fine."
He quickly put the disc back in its coat pocket. Or at least, attempted to, though it took several tries to find the opening and shove the disc back inside.
Ed slid the notepad across the table to Jet, then grabbed his tin of teas.
And here came the alternate definition of fine again. Jet didn't dare let any of the disbelief or scepticism coiling in his chest show - pushing Ed to find out something more truthful would just push Ed away and hurt him. "Cool. Let me know if that changes - easier to solve problems and avert them with two working together." Jet shifted one of the flasks so they were both in the same hand, scooping up the notebook with his newly empty one. "But if you're fine right now, that's fine too. I trust you."
Had an idea for a thread with fCon Ed - or, at least, Ed getting a friend and dragged out of fCon...... whether he realises he needs to get out, or not. Respond if interested :)
Eve peeked around the door of the tech conference's closing gala, eyeing the attendees. She wasn't supposed to be here. Wasn't supposed to be this side of the screen. Definitely wasn't supposed to be attempting to poach employees from rival companies.
But really, was it poaching when it felt more like a rescue?
Future Control Industries... Eve shuddered. She knew exactly what kind of Programs they had as flagships. The Master Control Program that had torn through her home before she was aware enough to understand what was wrong was proof enough.
But their new star programmer...
The child of the owner, named for the same. Intelligent, inventive, driven. A dangerous young man, second only to his father.
At least, according to the media.
Eve thought Edward Dillinger Junior looked... tired. Burnt out. Chained to the man who even now gripped his shoulder so tightly it couldn't be any less than painful.
In need of an Admin - someone to look out for him and help him thrive.
Eve could provide.
She flashed her pass, a gift from Lora Prime - unable to make the conference for health reasons - and stepped in to mingle. Her black dress shimmered pink in the lights, heels high and sharp, eyeliner like tiny knives.
The Legacy Grid had become a battleground not too dissimilar to this one, for all the weapons didn't leave visible wounds. And Eve was an Encom Program - designed, as they all were, to adapt and fight.
Ed always hated tech conferences. It's something he should have looked forward to. There were lots of good talks about the latest innovations, demos of the latest gadgets, lots of fascinating ideas.
It also meant he was stuck in close quarters with his father and no escape.
"Because of his disability," his father rationalized. And maybe that was part of it, but Ed was also aware it was to keep him in line. He had his entire schedule handed to him, every second of his day and a warning not to deviate.
By the time the closing gala arrived, Ed was exhausted. The ballroom was too loud, to bright, and Ed was out of patience for interacting with his father's business partners, or anyone. The only saving grace was the soft silk of his outfit expensive outfit. Ed doubted he could manage any other texture.
He just wanted to go back to the their suit at the hotel and sleep.
Ed snapped at a one of his father's business partners. Someone important, though Ed doesn't remember the man's name, and doesn't particularly care to.
His father squeezed his shoulder in warning.
It's only years of training and discipline that kept Ed from tensing or flinching. He apologized, then excused himself. His father stepped in to smooth things over, and Ed took the opportunity to attempt to disappear into the crowd, though he's aware Dymitr--Ed's "assistant", though Ed was fully aware that the man reported to his father and was truly there to keep him in line-- is following him, not too far behind.
He had been so focused on putting space between him and his father's business partner that he hadn't noticed the woman approaching until she was nearly upon him.
Ed nodded. Perhaps some time, when he wasn't so overwhelmed, he might like to meet him.
...On the other hand if he worked with Tron...
Better not poke a sleeping dragon.
He followed Jet into the kitchen, cautiously peering into the rooms as they passed.
"Please," he said, barely above a whisper. He could still only barely tolerate the sound of his own voice, feeling drained just from standing.
...The cafe sounded nice. He'd have to track it down, once he'd... settled somewhat. Figured out what to do with his life, some form of income, how to survive the week once he left Encom's Grid.
"Any time. Now go sit, get comfy, I'll bring this over to you. Tea's always best somewhere cozy." Jet didn't even hesitate in bringing down the good mugs - a design Ed would recognize, given they matched Eve's - adding a teaspoon of the white tea to a blue-green iridescent mug covered in shifting scales. His own tea - the same blend, but with added butterfly pea flowers for no purpose other than turning it blue - went into a mug covered in a veritable rainbow of dots.
Ed glanced around, then pulled out a chair from the kitchen table almost silently, and then sank into it.
The cups looked vaguely familiar, though in the chaos of the past two weeks, Ed couldn't tell if they were exactly the same ones that Eve had or not, and even if they were... Perhaps they had just come from the same place?
Jet was half-expecting Ed to head for the living room - comfier seats, clearer surroundings, far less cramped - but the kitchen bench was good too. Still comfy chairs, still relaxing, somewhere relatively familiar in a world turned on its head quite literally overnight.
Jet supposed it depended on which discomfited Ed more - the view out over the Grid from the living room windows, or the way the kitchen bench seats meant Ed had his back to a door.
"Here." Jet placed the mug down in front of Ed, along with an empty saucer - "for the strainer, once you've decided it's brewed enough" - and sat down at the end of the bench. He couldn't watch all the doors for Ed's sake, but he could keep an eye on the hallway. After all, if anyone unexpected was going to approach, it would be from there.
Admittedly, what was most discomfiting was the idea of being alone in a house full of near strangers who might walk into the room at any moment, and whose reactions Ed had no way to predict. While he would rather have his back to a wall and no way to sneak up on him, the place he felt most comfortable with was with the one person who was predictable, who, for reasons he could not comprehend, never hated him, and still didn't, even after everything that happened that night.
"Thank you," Ed replied.
...The tea smelled nice, with just a hint of floral notes.
Had this blend been one of the ones they'd kept in stock at the tea shop he used to work at?
"Any time, Ed. Any time." Jet hummed, cupping his hands around his mug - too hot to drink yet, but nice to hold.
The quiet, save for the hum of Alan's sewing machine once he started using it, started out peaceful enough. Ed, though, seemed to get... not fidgety, exactly, as it stretched, but certainly uncomfortable with the lack of talking. Like he was expecting someone to say something that wasn't coming, bracing himself for some diatribe that wasn't happening.
"Anything you want to do today?" Jet asked after a while. "I know we should probably check out that PO box for you, see what's there, but... the whole day's open. We could go to a park, if you want? Grab a picnic, and some birdseed, relax for a few hours feeding the ducks and pidgeons?" He shrugged. "I have all day, I don't mind."
After a few minutes, Ed removed the the strainer from his cup, and set it on the saucer, careful not to drip on the table.
He knew he had this tea before, but it was none of the ones he remembered restocking in the early mornings, was he forgetting one?
Ed lifted the cup to his lips, careful to keep a solid grip on the cup so he wouldn't drop it--
That taste. He knew that taste--
A bouquet of violets decorating a table with a white table cloth, and expensive china plates at each setting. A string quartet, friends of his new aunt's, playing classical music. His aunt--his father's sister, looking stunning in her purple tuxedo as she danced with her wife...
A blue tin, only big enough for a few sachets of tea, slipped into his jacket pocket when his father refused to take it.
Oh no.
Another event, more recent--this time one of his father's associates. This time the decorations all white. The groom's white suit doing his already pale complexion and pale blond hair no favors. His father glowering at him while he sweated over which option would incur the least judgement among a table with no right options. A cubical tea tin, in the same shade of blue, and in elegant cursive on the side--
Wedding Tea
...Did--did Jet know?
Did he--? Was he trying to--?
Was he--proposing? to him???
Ed set the mug down, somewhat glad his hands had been unsteady before, careful to keep the realization or panic out of his expression, his face a careful, bland mask.
It took a minute for his reeling mind to realize that Jet had asked him something, and to catch up with what had been asked.
"I--" He wasn't sure what he wanted. He wasn't sure there what he could reasonably do with his limited energy without tiring out. Feeding the birds, at least, seemed like something he could do without pushing himself too hard.
"Alright, after we check your PO box we'll swing past a pet store to get some birdseed - there's a really nice one run by a local family. And- wait, do you have an epipen on you? More for security's sake than anything, better safe than sorry. If you don't, and there's a prescription in the box, we should probably pick that up too." Jet frowned into his tea. He hadn't seen one in Ed's inventory, but then again he hadn't exactly looked either. "Allergies are serious, and while I promise to be as careful as I can for you there's not- being careful isn't a guarantee, and I'd rather be overprepared."
Ed looked up at Jet, careful to keep his expression to... an acceptable amount of interest. He hadn't been in one in ages. Not since it was just him and his mother living together. She used to like looking at the fish, had always wanted a saltwater tank that would take up the whole living room wall, and would make collages of what decorations and fish she'd put in it.
Ed had been captivated by the sweet song of the canaries, the energy of the finches, the intelligence behind the African grey parrot's eyes, and the sweet docility of the doves.
He froze at the mention of the epi-pen. Any talk about his healthcare had always been... a quick way to anger his father.
He glanced up at Jet, his grip tightening slightly around the hot ceramic mug in his hand. "I--ah, no," he stuttered.
Jet took a deep breath, and let it out. That was... another thing he'd suspected, and hoped he was wrong about. "Alright. We're definitely getting that today."
Getting mad will not help Ed. Getting mad will not help Ed. Getting mad will do the exact opposite of helping Ed. None of this is Ed's fault, getting mad will not help Ed.
"I'm not mad at you." Jet watched the steam rising from his tea in ribbons and whorls, voice calm but knuckles clenched white as he gripped his mug. "I'm angry at that waste of space daring to call itself your father, because an epipen is life-saving medication and to withhold it from you when it's in your name and should be in your possession is illegal. I'm a little angry at myself, because normally I keep one in the first aid kit of my car - I'm first-aid qualified and allowed to carry one - but it lapsed and I haven't replaced it yet. If it hadn't, I'd be giving it to you, but I can't do that because I didn't pay attention and let the fucking thing expire. I am furious at everyone who thought it was okay for you to be treated like that, letting someone put your life at risk just for that bastard to feel important and powerful."
"But none of that is your fault. Could never be your fault. I am not mad at you."
"So I am going to calm down, and we are going to fix the problem. Starting with getting you any and all the medication you should be on, because you having immediate access to the things that keep you alive and in the best possible health is a necessity, not a privilege." Jet closed his eyes a moment, then looked at Ed. "No one gets to hold that much power over whether you live or die."
Not mad at you was the biggest lie ever told, from Ed's previous experience, and the times it wasn't, either the implied disappointment was worse, or it didn't stop his father from taking out his anger on him.
His heart beat rapidly, his pulse echoing loudly in his head.
Ed set his mug down as quietly as he could hands shaking so much the tea treated to spill over the lip. He haunched his shoulders, wishing he could disappear.
He'd hoped that Jet would have assumed he just left his epi-pen on his desk, that he didn't want to risk the medicine getting digitized incorrectly or corrupting or worse, that he wouldn't realize or ask why he wasn't allowed.
He didn't have his wallet and didn't know the information for health insurance.
Jet just breathed for a while - focusing on the smell of his tea, the coolness of the benchtop, the whir of Alan's sewing machine. Safe things, familiar things, pulling him back down to something approaching an even keel.
Ed was scared enough. He didn't need to see Jet lose his temper, even if he wasn't and would never be the target of it.
"Ed?" Jet asked quietly. "What can I do to help prove to you I'm not going to hurt you?"
"I'm not- you don't have to trust me yet. Too many have broken your trust. I'd like the chance to earn your trust, that's all. But you've gotta give me a map, Ed, so I don't hurt you on the way."
"I'm- I'm scared. You've been hurt for so long, in so many different ways, and I know I don't know all of it. I'm scared of finding out how bad it was, how close we came to losing you, knowing I can't go back and change that. I can't timetravel to when we were sixteen and get you out of that fucking house, consequences be damned - or even earlier, if I could." Jet reached out, palm up - waiting, giving Ed the choice of accepting his hand or not. "But I can't do that, I can only change from now."
"I want to help you. I want to give you somewhere safe, where you can be yourself, in charge of your own life and able to be Ed. I want to lift as much of that weight off your shoulders as I can, help you carry it until you feel like you can let it go for good."
"But I don't know how to do that yet, because- I'm a Bradley, at the end of the day. I'm teeth and claws, another dog in a world where you've already been thrown to the wolves. I'm not good at being safe - a sword isn't a shield, and I don't know how to be a shield. And while I'm gonna do my damndest to make sure I never hurt you, I don't know how to not scare you because you know better than anyone that if you let me that close I could."
"I'm not angry at you. I don't think I ever could be. But I am scared for you. The world for the most part has not been kind to you, and I'm terrified of you getting crushed or killed by it just because some prick with more ego than sense or money - and he has a lot of the latter - thinks it's okay to treat you like a thing."
What did Ed need from Jet so that he could trust him? It's not... really a question he's ever thought about. People had a tendency to reveal themselves quickly when they heard the name Dillinger. They either pretended to like him because of his father's wealth and the power it bought, or hated him for his father's corruption.
Very few saw Ed for who he was.
And for reasons Ed couldn't understand. Jet didn't hate him, when he among almost everyone else should.
He wanted to trust Jet. There had been a point, before Ed knew who he was placing that trust in, where Ed had let him into a very small part of his life, and trusted the faceless E.nigma more than anyone else in his life.
That had been before his health took a sharp decline, before he'd had to accept his fate at fCon because no one else in the industry would hire him, and his father found out about his betrayal.
He didn't know if he could ever trust anyone again.
"I don't--"
What do you mean you don't know? Use that brain of yours. FIGURE IT OUT!
He couldn't reasonably tell Jet to never be mad at him.
Nor could he ask him to not touch him. That never went over well.
He just wanted the world to stop playing dice with his life long enough he could think clearly.
"Just..." Space? He didn't want Jet to think he was pushing him away, not when he finally had a friend--
"...stay.... Please."
Just give him something constant to hold on to... please.
"Okay. I'll stay." Jet promised quietly. "I'll stay. And if I can't physically stay, I'll make sure you know where I am, and I'll always come back to you." A safe port in a storm, steady ground in a shifting world, a constant among the change. Jet could do that.
So few in Ed's life had ever kept their promise, and Jet couldn't keep that promise forever, but in the few short days--hours? Ed had no idea how to count the time in here--that he knew Jet as... well Jethro Bradley, and not E. Nigma, he'd done as he said he would.
Ed wanted to trust Jet. He wanted to be able to trust him completely. He already trusted him more than anyone else that had been in his life between when he'd come back from Pennsylvania and last night's board meeting--had already had so many vulnerabilities exposed it felt like Jet could reach into his chest and crush his heart with his bare hand if he wanted to, and that terrified him. And yet--
Nobody ever stayed. Not for long. Once Jet helped Ed figure out the what next, he would probably leave too.
He knew that was just the skeptic in his head talking, that he couldn't know for certain it would happen that way.
He wanted this time to be different, wanted to believe that someone would stay a constant in his life that actually wanted him as a person, someone other than his father and the bastard's sycophant.
Only time would tell.
Ed blinked, his eyes suddenly moist. He picked up his mug of tea, both hands still trembling, and took a drink, trying to clear his throat.
He was not going to cry. Not here, not now. Not when there were too many others he didn't trust--
"O--okay..." he said, as loud and clear and smooth as he could without his voice wavering or betraying him--which was barely above a whisper.
"Any time, Ed." Jet had to listen hard to catch Ed's voice, but heard every word - and the stuttered syllables where his breath didn't quite hold steady, the tripped-up words where his thoughts fell over each other between truthful and guarded. "Any time at all."
He took another drink, and focused on it's citrusy notes and floral aromt. The faintly warm ceramic in his hands.
Anything besides the maelstrom of emotion.
He set his mug down and stared at it's tea-stained bottom, unable to look up at Jet and torn between wishing for more and needing to get up, and get moving before he spiraled.
"So, three things to do today. Only three." Jet hummed quietly. "Checking the PO box, getting your medication, and feeding the birds. Unless you want to do more, but don't push yourself on my account."
"If you want, we can have a picnic at the same time as we feed the birds? Bring some flasks, a few different teas, get some food. Hang out, you know? Soak up some sun, stuff like that."
Three things. That's all that was planned for the day. Just three.
...Ed had no idea if he could do even that. He was still exhausted and could hardly walk. He couldn't guess if he's collapse before they got to the park and feeding the birds, or if he's even make it through the first task.
And that was nothing to day of the anxiety of adding food to the equation. They'd probably have to stop somewhere to pick something up.
"That sounds nice," he admitted. Would be, if he could make it that far.
"Wanna look through the teas? Pick ones you'll enjoy?" Jet invited. "Don't worry about the topmost shelf - everything up there is a duplicate of something lower down - but anything on the other two is fair game. Maybe grab a few - travel tins are on the bottom shelf, they're all multi-compartment so you can take a selection."
"And I'll make sure the travel mugs have strainers, so you don't have to limit yourself to teabags - hot water can go in its own flasks, means you don't have to worry at ending up with a super-blend that doesn't taste all that great if you decide to switch."
Normally Jet would just take the entire tea tin or box, and maybe leave a note if he remembered. Ed, significantly less used to being allowed to do that, would most likely not handle doing so quite as well - at minimum, limiting his tea selection to those tentatively and somewhat arbitrarily labeled as safe choices, instead of ones he actually enjoyed. So, the travel tins it was.
Ed nodded, and hesitantly pushed himself to his feet.
He froze, palms flat against the table and teeth grit against the wave of vertigo from standing so quickly.
It took him a moment to hazard shuffling back toward the cabinets to pick through the teas.
...so many options.
How many was he supposed to pick?
The white tea had been nice, and... Jet drank it too and nobody said anything, so it had to be safe?
Ed picked up the blue tin to set it aside.
Wedding Tea
...so he had remembered that correctly.
Oh no.
Did Jet--Jet definitely knew. There was no way he didn't know, didn't intentionally--
...if he put it in the stash did that... count as accepting Jet's proposal? Did he--he'd asked Jet to stay, did he think--?
Ed didn't--!
He likes Jet, but he doesn't like people like that. He's broken. Jet wouldn't want when he can't reciprocate those feelings.
Ed cautiously set the tin down. He didn't want to upset Jet by discarding it, but--
If he just kept staring at the tin, Jet would get impatient. He's just picking teas. It wasn't...
He'd just lost his life as he knew it, he wasn't ready to make a decision like that!
Ed picked up the next tea. Lavender Lemon. Tempting, he liked the floral teas, liked the way they smelled, but-- he was going to be judged for that one, Jet was going to make fun of him he--
They're doing that thing, with secret messages, aren't they? Like the Victorians did with flowers?
He didn't remember how flower language worked, how was he supposed to do that with tea?
Moroccan mint. Most likely safe....
He continued to look through the rest of the assortment. By the time he was done, he had half a dozen teas that he hoped were... hopefully safe and hopefully not giving a message that would upset Jet.
Jet finished off his own tea, watching the doors both to give Ed some privacy choosing his teas and to make sure no one came in without warning. It didn't really matter how long Ed took - there were a lot of options, and Jet knew he didn't remember what all of Ed's allergies were. While the bulk were probably safe, checking the teas to confirm Ed could drink them and they wouldn't cause problems took time.
Jet already knew which teas he wanted, anyway. Getting them wouldn't take long.
He didn't get up until Ed indicated he was done choosing, the eight-slot black travel tin Ed had apparently decided to use already at least partially filled and closed up so no one could even guess what blends were inside.
"Any you can't have?" Jet asked, picking up his own travel tin decorated with cartoonish praying mantises. "So I don't accidentally buy you a tea you can't drink." He filled one of the compartments with a black tea and cornflower blend. "That's not- I have money, I like spending it. Especially on things for family and friends, gifts for just because. I don't expect things back, gifts are gifts not obligations. But at the same time it's not really fair to you if I buy you something you don't like or can't enjoy."
A wildberry tea and a Paris Black blend joined Jet's picks, along with a chamomile and honey tea and a few spoonfuls from a jar of something that looked a lot like pure gold glitter dust. "This thing's weird. Cool patterns from the convection currents though." Jet hummed, amused, rolling the jar between his hands once he'd resealed it. "Chrysanthemum tea, but also edible glitter. It's very sparkly, and pretty nice, though it doesn't really work if you try adding it to other teas. You just get the other tea, but sparkly, and maybe a hint of undefined plant if you put in too much of this."
"Uh, only like, the ones with almond flavoring, usually," Ed responded hesitantly. "Or any other nuts, I haven't come across any with anything else that's not safe. The plain or fruit ones are safe."
Ed glanced at the shimmering gold powder. "Oh."
On any other occasion, the chrysanthemum tea would have piqued Ed's curiosity. Today, the mental image of a gold drink was a little too close to fCon's energy, and the nightmare he'd rather put as far behind him as possible.
"Alright, I'll avoid anything with nuts. Or potential nuts." Jet promised, already thinking through what was in the kitchen of the house he was living in while Lora figured out what to do with it. He could already think of a handful of things that weren't Ed-safe there, but he could probably just give them and any other unsafe food to Sam.
"I don't think I've ever actually been to a wedding where this tea was an option." Jet commented, putting the Wedding Tea tin back. "Granted, I haven't been to many weddings in general, but... seems kind of silly to me to have a tea just for special occasions like that - if you like it, and you can get it, why not have it? Being alive is a special enough occasion, life's too short to not have the things you like when you want them."
He picked a hibiscus and apple tea as his last choice, closing up the travel tin and starting to put the assorted teas away. "Let me know if you change your mind or want any of these as well as what you've already got. I'll get them down for you, it's no problem."
Jet's never... encountered Wedding Tea at a wedding? Was he overthinking the situation? Did it really... mean nothing? Or at least not what Ed thought it did? Ed didn't know if he was more confused or less.
What did it mean???
"I, ah, I've only encountered the tea twice before," Ed admitted. "First at Theo's wedding, and then... at a wedding one of the shareholders invited us to a couple years back. Maybe it shouldn't be... just for weddings, because then who knows how often you'll get it, but... that's part of the point of reserving things for special occasions-- it makes it... special? Kinda like... I dunno. ...Christmas custard, or... something like that."
He glanced at his own set of teas one last time, then back up at the cabinet. Did he want...
Or maybe he should switch out the Darjeeling for the strawberry honeybush? Or maybe the green chai?
He'd try the all in one sitting, afraid that he'd never get another chance, but didn't dare take more than he had.
Ed shook his head and closed his tin. "I think I'm done." He'd probably never make a decision otherwise.
"Mmm, yeah, I see your point. If you have something that's supposed to be special too often, it stops being special and starts being ordinary, yeah?" Jet checked. "Though I guess- I guess it also depends on how you define special."
"We tend to treat teas - and food in general - as more ordinary than special, because what's the point of leaving half a tin of tea up on the shelf for who knows how long until the next special enough occasion happens? It could go off, and then you don't even have it for the special occasion. Drink it, enjoy it, life's too short to waste it or deny yourself the treat." He shrugged. "A special occasion for us is more about the people. Getting to see each other, having fun, sharing stories or just spending time together. Mom and Dad both have large families but since they're scattered all over the place we don't see everyone often. Meeting up? That's our kind of special. The food and drink is just something you happen to have as well, since everyone needs to eat at some point."
"Alright, I'll put these back for now." Jet hummed, doing exactly that - putting the two teas that weren't Ed-safe together to one edge of a shelf, so grabbing a tea at random was less likely to be one Ed couldn't have. "Can always have different ones next time, right?"
Ed shrugs. He'd never considered that special occasions were supposed to be about the other people.
Of course they were supposed to be, but--The rest of the Dillingers were in England, and the McLaughlins, last he remembered, were spread between North Carolina and Maine. While the rest of the Dillingers weren't... terrible, the one time he'd visited, his father had managed to cause so much tension, it had been impossible for Ed to connect with any of them.
Holidays meant Ed was trapped with his father for the vacation when he was a kid, lonely weeks working at the tea shop between university semesters while everyone else went home, or now having the duty of entertaining fCon's investors at the lavish company parties his father hosted.
"Oh," he said, shoulders hunched in a little more.
He glanced back at the teas.
"Right," he echoed.
...It was still hard to believe there would be a next time, that any of this would last any stretch of time, even if he knew his father had no intention for him to go home, even if he wanted to, or if Jet promised he wouldn't.
"That's the spirit." Jet hummed. "Life's too short to not try tea."
"Alright, I'll just grab the flasks, and the mugs. Could you please step left a little, just need to get in this cupboard- thanks Ed. There's an exit that'll take us out into Encom not too far from here, and that in itself won't be too far from my car." Jet busied himself with boiling enough water for two large thermos flasks, so there'd be more than enough for tea. "In the meantime, aside from the tea and everything you have on you that you came into the Grid with, anything you want to have with you when we're out? It's just a toggle setting, easy to change - means if you want your new coat, for instance, you can have it."
The mention of Encom filled him with dread. He hadn't been there since the interview. He'd felt like everyone had watched him as he made his way to the interview room, like they saw the name on his visitor's badge, and knew he didn't belong.
That had been before he'd been rejected.
Reluctantly, he pulls his disc out of it's pocket, and slowly navigates to his inventory, only half remembered from the day--night? before--from earlier, it felt like an eternity ago. The coat was nice, but a bit too warm for a summer day in So-Cal. Still...
"W--what happens to my disc, when we leave?" he asked.
Was he going to have to carry it around for the rest of his life?
... Did he need anything else from the grid when they leave? Did he want anything?
"Wh- oh! Oh, yeah, thought I forgot to say something. Couldn't for the life of me remember what." Jet clicked his fingers absently, acknowledging the reminder. "Sorry Ed. Right, your disc, leaving the Grid. Kind of up to you what happens to it."
"Default is it kind of- merges with you? Sounds way scarier than it is, it's just- we are not the Ood, we don't have a second brain. I don't know the exact science of it, but the physical disc and anything stored on it ends up kind of just. Not existing physically. You'll have it if you come back onto the Grid, but not when you're not on it."
"There is the option to have it with you as a physical thing, but it's way smaller. Necklace pendant smaller, the kind you can hide under your clothes. Most Programs I've met that have left the Grid do that, even if they're only off it for short bursts. More as a physical reassurance they still have it thing than because it does anything."
"...Oh." Ed wasn't sure if that helped or not. At least that meant it was a choice. Though on one hand... not having to worry about losing it was a relief, on the other... there were a million what-if's.
At least it meant he didn't need the coat to carry it around.
...The coat was nice. Soft, and big enough to hide in. But. California summer.
Reluctantly, Ed turned off the display on his disc. Better not to worry about carrying something else around that could get lost or be taken away. The same for the coat, and everything else on the disc.
That was, of course, assuming he would eventually come back to the Grid.
Jet hummed quietly to himself, fishing out two miniature flasks as well as both large silver thermoses - one relatively pristine chrome, and the other black but dented and its attached cup held together with red electrical tape. He made sure to wash both out while the kettle boiled - more precautionary than needed, but since he couldn't remember what teas had been in either it was safer for Ed to do so.
"Wanna write down the address of the post office we'll be getting the PO Box key from, and the pharmacy your Programs mentioned they'd already handled your prescriptions at? Makes things a bit easier, so we can plan a route - less time travelling, more time relaxing and feeding bird friends." Jet offered a notepad and pencil for Ed, leaving them on the kitchen bench so he could fill the thermos flasks.
Ed was fairly certain that he knew where the pharmacy was, even if it wasn't where he usually got his prescriptions filled, but... was he certain it wasn't the pharmacy on west side, not the east side?
Better to double check.
Ed pulled up the file, and wrote down the addresses listed.
He navigated out of the document, and stared at the readme file listed in the directory, as though he was frozen. Hesitantly, he opened the file and read through it again.
He still didn't know what to make of it. Was it a trap? Why would Thanatos... go through the effort of all of this to help him? But also why would xe go through the effort of such an elaborate trap when xe had already captured them?
"Alright, that's everything from here." Jet scooped up the flasks, travel mugs, and his tea tin, fitting the last three into a small backpack and hefting one of the former two in each hand. "Got your tea tin, Ed? Everything you need for now?"
He paused a moment, taking Ed's expression in. "Okay, that's your thinking face. What's up, Ed? Anything I can do to help?"
Had an idea for a thread with fCon Ed - or, at least, Ed getting a friend and dragged out of fCon...... whether he realises he needs to get out, or not. Respond if interested :)
Eve peeked around the door of the tech conference's closing gala, eyeing the attendees. She wasn't supposed to be here. Wasn't supposed to be this side of the screen. Definitely wasn't supposed to be attempting to poach employees from rival companies.
But really, was it poaching when it felt more like a rescue?
Future Control Industries... Eve shuddered. She knew exactly what kind of Programs they had as flagships. The Master Control Program that had torn through her home before she was aware enough to understand what was wrong was proof enough.
But their new star programmer...
The child of the owner, named for the same. Intelligent, inventive, driven. A dangerous young man, second only to his father.
At least, according to the media.
Eve thought Edward Dillinger Junior looked... tired. Burnt out. Chained to the man who even now gripped his shoulder so tightly it couldn't be any less than painful.
In need of an Admin - someone to look out for him and help him thrive.
Eve could provide.
She flashed her pass, a gift from Lora Prime - unable to make the conference for health reasons - and stepped in to mingle. Her black dress shimmered pink in the lights, heels high and sharp, eyeliner like tiny knives.
The Legacy Grid had become a battleground not too dissimilar to this one, for all the weapons didn't leave visible wounds. And Eve was an Encom Program - designed, as they all were, to adapt and fight.
Ed always hated tech conferences. It's something he should have looked forward to. There were lots of good talks about the latest innovations, demos of the latest gadgets, lots of fascinating ideas.
It also meant he was stuck in close quarters with his father and no escape.
"Because of his disability," his father rationalized. And maybe that was part of it, but Ed was also aware it was to keep him in line. He had his entire schedule handed to him, every second of his day and a warning not to deviate.
By the time the closing gala arrived, Ed was exhausted. The ballroom was too loud, to bright, and Ed was out of patience for interacting with his father's business partners, or anyone. The only saving grace was the soft silk of his outfit expensive outfit. Ed doubted he could manage any other texture.
He just wanted to go back to the their suit at the hotel and sleep.
Ed snapped at a one of his father's business partners. Someone important, though Ed doesn't remember the man's name, and doesn't particularly care to.
His father squeezed his shoulder in warning.
It's only years of training and discipline that kept Ed from tensing or flinching. He apologized, then excused himself. His father stepped in to smooth things over, and Ed took the opportunity to attempt to disappear into the crowd, though he's aware Dymitr--Ed's "assistant", though Ed was fully aware that the man reported to his father and was truly there to keep him in line-- is following him, not too far behind.
He had been so focused on putting space between him and his father's business partner that he hadn't noticed the woman approaching until she was nearly upon him.
Ed nodded. Perhaps some time, when he wasn't so overwhelmed, he might like to meet him.
...On the other hand if he worked with Tron...
Better not poke a sleeping dragon.
He followed Jet into the kitchen, cautiously peering into the rooms as they passed.
"Please," he said, barely above a whisper. He could still only barely tolerate the sound of his own voice, feeling drained just from standing.
...The cafe sounded nice. He'd have to track it down, once he'd... settled somewhat. Figured out what to do with his life, some form of income, how to survive the week once he left Encom's Grid.
"Any time. Now go sit, get comfy, I'll bring this over to you. Tea's always best somewhere cozy." Jet didn't even hesitate in bringing down the good mugs - a design Ed would recognize, given they matched Eve's - adding a teaspoon of the white tea to a blue-green iridescent mug covered in shifting scales. His own tea - the same blend, but with added butterfly pea flowers for no purpose other than turning it blue - went into a mug covered in a veritable rainbow of dots.
Ed glanced around, then pulled out a chair from the kitchen table almost silently, and then sank into it.
The cups looked vaguely familiar, though in the chaos of the past two weeks, Ed couldn't tell if they were exactly the same ones that Eve had or not, and even if they were... Perhaps they had just come from the same place?
Jet was half-expecting Ed to head for the living room - comfier seats, clearer surroundings, far less cramped - but the kitchen bench was good too. Still comfy chairs, still relaxing, somewhere relatively familiar in a world turned on its head quite literally overnight.
Jet supposed it depended on which discomfited Ed more - the view out over the Grid from the living room windows, or the way the kitchen bench seats meant Ed had his back to a door.
"Here." Jet placed the mug down in front of Ed, along with an empty saucer - "for the strainer, once you've decided it's brewed enough" - and sat down at the end of the bench. He couldn't watch all the doors for Ed's sake, but he could keep an eye on the hallway. After all, if anyone unexpected was going to approach, it would be from there.
Admittedly, what was most discomfiting was the idea of being alone in a house full of near strangers who might walk into the room at any moment, and whose reactions Ed had no way to predict. While he would rather have his back to a wall and no way to sneak up on him, the place he felt most comfortable with was with the one person who was predictable, who, for reasons he could not comprehend, never hated him, and still didn't, even after everything that happened that night.
"Thank you," Ed replied.
...The tea smelled nice, with just a hint of floral notes.
Had this blend been one of the ones they'd kept in stock at the tea shop he used to work at?
"Any time, Ed. Any time." Jet hummed, cupping his hands around his mug - too hot to drink yet, but nice to hold.
The quiet, save for the hum of Alan's sewing machine once he started using it, started out peaceful enough. Ed, though, seemed to get... not fidgety, exactly, as it stretched, but certainly uncomfortable with the lack of talking. Like he was expecting someone to say something that wasn't coming, bracing himself for some diatribe that wasn't happening.
"Anything you want to do today?" Jet asked after a while. "I know we should probably check out that PO box for you, see what's there, but... the whole day's open. We could go to a park, if you want? Grab a picnic, and some birdseed, relax for a few hours feeding the ducks and pidgeons?" He shrugged. "I have all day, I don't mind."
After a few minutes, Ed removed the the strainer from his cup, and set it on the saucer, careful not to drip on the table.
He knew he had this tea before, but it was none of the ones he remembered restocking in the early mornings, was he forgetting one?
Ed lifted the cup to his lips, careful to keep a solid grip on the cup so he wouldn't drop it--
That taste. He knew that taste--
A bouquet of violets decorating a table with a white table cloth, and expensive china plates at each setting. A string quartet, friends of his new aunt's, playing classical music. His aunt--his father's sister, looking stunning in her purple tuxedo as she danced with her wife...
A blue tin, only big enough for a few sachets of tea, slipped into his jacket pocket when his father refused to take it.
Oh no.
Another event, more recent--this time one of his father's associates. This time the decorations all white. The groom's white suit doing his already pale complexion and pale blond hair no favors. His father glowering at him while he sweated over which option would incur the least judgement among a table with no right options. A cubical tea tin, in the same shade of blue, and in elegant cursive on the side--
Wedding Tea
...Did--did Jet know?
Did he--? Was he trying to--?
Was he--proposing? to him???
Ed set the mug down, somewhat glad his hands had been unsteady before, careful to keep the realization or panic out of his expression, his face a careful, bland mask.
It took a minute for his reeling mind to realize that Jet had asked him something, and to catch up with what had been asked.
"I--" He wasn't sure what he wanted. He wasn't sure there what he could reasonably do with his limited energy without tiring out. Feeding the birds, at least, seemed like something he could do without pushing himself too hard.
"Alright, after we check your PO box we'll swing past a pet store to get some birdseed - there's a really nice one run by a local family. And- wait, do you have an epipen on you? More for security's sake than anything, better safe than sorry. If you don't, and there's a prescription in the box, we should probably pick that up too." Jet frowned into his tea. He hadn't seen one in Ed's inventory, but then again he hadn't exactly looked either. "Allergies are serious, and while I promise to be as careful as I can for you there's not- being careful isn't a guarantee, and I'd rather be overprepared."
Ed looked up at Jet, careful to keep his expression to... an acceptable amount of interest. He hadn't been in one in ages. Not since it was just him and his mother living together. She used to like looking at the fish, had always wanted a saltwater tank that would take up the whole living room wall, and would make collages of what decorations and fish she'd put in it.
Ed had been captivated by the sweet song of the canaries, the energy of the finches, the intelligence behind the African grey parrot's eyes, and the sweet docility of the doves.
He froze at the mention of the epi-pen. Any talk about his healthcare had always been... a quick way to anger his father.
He glanced up at Jet, his grip tightening slightly around the hot ceramic mug in his hand. "I--ah, no," he stuttered.
Jet took a deep breath, and let it out. That was... another thing he'd suspected, and hoped he was wrong about. "Alright. We're definitely getting that today."
Getting mad will not help Ed. Getting mad will not help Ed. Getting mad will do the exact opposite of helping Ed. None of this is Ed's fault, getting mad will not help Ed.
"I'm not mad at you." Jet watched the steam rising from his tea in ribbons and whorls, voice calm but knuckles clenched white as he gripped his mug. "I'm angry at that waste of space daring to call itself your father, because an epipen is life-saving medication and to withhold it from you when it's in your name and should be in your possession is illegal. I'm a little angry at myself, because normally I keep one in the first aid kit of my car - I'm first-aid qualified and allowed to carry one - but it lapsed and I haven't replaced it yet. If it hadn't, I'd be giving it to you, but I can't do that because I didn't pay attention and let the fucking thing expire. I am furious at everyone who thought it was okay for you to be treated like that, letting someone put your life at risk just for that bastard to feel important and powerful."
"But none of that is your fault. Could never be your fault. I am not mad at you."
"So I am going to calm down, and we are going to fix the problem. Starting with getting you any and all the medication you should be on, because you having immediate access to the things that keep you alive and in the best possible health is a necessity, not a privilege." Jet closed his eyes a moment, then looked at Ed. "No one gets to hold that much power over whether you live or die."
Not mad at you was the biggest lie ever told, from Ed's previous experience, and the times it wasn't, either the implied disappointment was worse, or it didn't stop his father from taking out his anger on him.
His heart beat rapidly, his pulse echoing loudly in his head.
Ed set his mug down as quietly as he could hands shaking so much the tea treated to spill over the lip. He haunched his shoulders, wishing he could disappear.
He'd hoped that Jet would have assumed he just left his epi-pen on his desk, that he didn't want to risk the medicine getting digitized incorrectly or corrupting or worse, that he wouldn't realize or ask why he wasn't allowed.
He didn't have his wallet and didn't know the information for health insurance.
Jet just breathed for a while - focusing on the smell of his tea, the coolness of the benchtop, the whir of Alan's sewing machine. Safe things, familiar things, pulling him back down to something approaching an even keel.
Ed was scared enough. He didn't need to see Jet lose his temper, even if he wasn't and would never be the target of it.
"Ed?" Jet asked quietly. "What can I do to help prove to you I'm not going to hurt you?"
"I'm not- you don't have to trust me yet. Too many have broken your trust. I'd like the chance to earn your trust, that's all. But you've gotta give me a map, Ed, so I don't hurt you on the way."
"I'm- I'm scared. You've been hurt for so long, in so many different ways, and I know I don't know all of it. I'm scared of finding out how bad it was, how close we came to losing you, knowing I can't go back and change that. I can't timetravel to when we were sixteen and get you out of that fucking house, consequences be damned - or even earlier, if I could." Jet reached out, palm up - waiting, giving Ed the choice of accepting his hand or not. "But I can't do that, I can only change from now."
"I want to help you. I want to give you somewhere safe, where you can be yourself, in charge of your own life and able to be Ed. I want to lift as much of that weight off your shoulders as I can, help you carry it until you feel like you can let it go for good."
"But I don't know how to do that yet, because- I'm a Bradley, at the end of the day. I'm teeth and claws, another dog in a world where you've already been thrown to the wolves. I'm not good at being safe - a sword isn't a shield, and I don't know how to be a shield. And while I'm gonna do my damndest to make sure I never hurt you, I don't know how to not scare you because you know better than anyone that if you let me that close I could."
"I'm not angry at you. I don't think I ever could be. But I am scared for you. The world for the most part has not been kind to you, and I'm terrified of you getting crushed or killed by it just because some prick with more ego than sense or money - and he has a lot of the latter - thinks it's okay to treat you like a thing."
What did Ed need from Jet so that he could trust him? It's not... really a question he's ever thought about. People had a tendency to reveal themselves quickly when they heard the name Dillinger. They either pretended to like him because of his father's wealth and the power it bought, or hated him for his father's corruption.
Very few saw Ed for who he was.
And for reasons Ed couldn't understand. Jet didn't hate him, when he among almost everyone else should.
He wanted to trust Jet. There had been a point, before Ed knew who he was placing that trust in, where Ed had let him into a very small part of his life, and trusted the faceless E.nigma more than anyone else in his life.
That had been before his health took a sharp decline, before he'd had to accept his fate at fCon because no one else in the industry would hire him, and his father found out about his betrayal.
He didn't know if he could ever trust anyone again.
"I don't--"
What do you mean you don't know? Use that brain of yours. FIGURE IT OUT!
He couldn't reasonably tell Jet to never be mad at him.
Nor could he ask him to not touch him. That never went over well.
He just wanted the world to stop playing dice with his life long enough he could think clearly.
"Just..." Space? He didn't want Jet to think he was pushing him away, not when he finally had a friend--
"...stay.... Please."
Just give him something constant to hold on to... please.
"Okay. I'll stay." Jet promised quietly. "I'll stay. And if I can't physically stay, I'll make sure you know where I am, and I'll always come back to you." A safe port in a storm, steady ground in a shifting world, a constant among the change. Jet could do that.
So few in Ed's life had ever kept their promise, and Jet couldn't keep that promise forever, but in the few short days--hours? Ed had no idea how to count the time in here--that he knew Jet as... well Jethro Bradley, and not E. Nigma, he'd done as he said he would.
Ed wanted to trust Jet. He wanted to be able to trust him completely. He already trusted him more than anyone else that had been in his life between when he'd come back from Pennsylvania and last night's board meeting--had already had so many vulnerabilities exposed it felt like Jet could reach into his chest and crush his heart with his bare hand if he wanted to, and that terrified him. And yet--
Nobody ever stayed. Not for long. Once Jet helped Ed figure out the what next, he would probably leave too.
He knew that was just the skeptic in his head talking, that he couldn't know for certain it would happen that way.
He wanted this time to be different, wanted to believe that someone would stay a constant in his life that actually wanted him as a person, someone other than his father and the bastard's sycophant.
Only time would tell.
Ed blinked, his eyes suddenly moist. He picked up his mug of tea, both hands still trembling, and took a drink, trying to clear his throat.
He was not going to cry. Not here, not now. Not when there were too many others he didn't trust--
"O--okay..." he said, as loud and clear and smooth as he could without his voice wavering or betraying him--which was barely above a whisper.
"Any time, Ed." Jet had to listen hard to catch Ed's voice, but heard every word - and the stuttered syllables where his breath didn't quite hold steady, the tripped-up words where his thoughts fell over each other between truthful and guarded. "Any time at all."
He took another drink, and focused on it's citrusy notes and floral aromt. The faintly warm ceramic in his hands.
Anything besides the maelstrom of emotion.
He set his mug down and stared at it's tea-stained bottom, unable to look up at Jet and torn between wishing for more and needing to get up, and get moving before he spiraled.
"So, three things to do today. Only three." Jet hummed quietly. "Checking the PO box, getting your medication, and feeding the birds. Unless you want to do more, but don't push yourself on my account."
"If you want, we can have a picnic at the same time as we feed the birds? Bring some flasks, a few different teas, get some food. Hang out, you know? Soak up some sun, stuff like that."
Three things. That's all that was planned for the day. Just three.
...Ed had no idea if he could do even that. He was still exhausted and could hardly walk. He couldn't guess if he's collapse before they got to the park and feeding the birds, or if he's even make it through the first task.
And that was nothing to day of the anxiety of adding food to the equation. They'd probably have to stop somewhere to pick something up.
"That sounds nice," he admitted. Would be, if he could make it that far.
"Wanna look through the teas? Pick ones you'll enjoy?" Jet invited. "Don't worry about the topmost shelf - everything up there is a duplicate of something lower down - but anything on the other two is fair game. Maybe grab a few - travel tins are on the bottom shelf, they're all multi-compartment so you can take a selection."
"And I'll make sure the travel mugs have strainers, so you don't have to limit yourself to teabags - hot water can go in its own flasks, means you don't have to worry at ending up with a super-blend that doesn't taste all that great if you decide to switch."
Normally Jet would just take the entire tea tin or box, and maybe leave a note if he remembered. Ed, significantly less used to being allowed to do that, would most likely not handle doing so quite as well - at minimum, limiting his tea selection to those tentatively and somewhat arbitrarily labeled as safe choices, instead of ones he actually enjoyed. So, the travel tins it was.
Ed nodded, and hesitantly pushed himself to his feet.
He froze, palms flat against the table and teeth grit against the wave of vertigo from standing so quickly.
It took him a moment to hazard shuffling back toward the cabinets to pick through the teas.
...so many options.
How many was he supposed to pick?
The white tea had been nice, and... Jet drank it too and nobody said anything, so it had to be safe?
Ed picked up the blue tin to set it aside.
Wedding Tea
...so he had remembered that correctly.
Oh no.
Did Jet--Jet definitely knew. There was no way he didn't know, didn't intentionally--
...if he put it in the stash did that... count as accepting Jet's proposal? Did he--he'd asked Jet to stay, did he think--?
Ed didn't--!
He likes Jet, but he doesn't like people like that. He's broken. Jet wouldn't want when he can't reciprocate those feelings.
Ed cautiously set the tin down. He didn't want to upset Jet by discarding it, but--
If he just kept staring at the tin, Jet would get impatient. He's just picking teas. It wasn't...
He'd just lost his life as he knew it, he wasn't ready to make a decision like that!
Ed picked up the next tea. Lavender Lemon. Tempting, he liked the floral teas, liked the way they smelled, but-- he was going to be judged for that one, Jet was going to make fun of him he--
They're doing that thing, with secret messages, aren't they? Like the Victorians did with flowers?
He didn't remember how flower language worked, how was he supposed to do that with tea?
Moroccan mint. Most likely safe....
He continued to look through the rest of the assortment. By the time he was done, he had half a dozen teas that he hoped were... hopefully safe and hopefully not giving a message that would upset Jet.
Jet finished off his own tea, watching the doors both to give Ed some privacy choosing his teas and to make sure no one came in without warning. It didn't really matter how long Ed took - there were a lot of options, and Jet knew he didn't remember what all of Ed's allergies were. While the bulk were probably safe, checking the teas to confirm Ed could drink them and they wouldn't cause problems took time.
Jet already knew which teas he wanted, anyway. Getting them wouldn't take long.
He didn't get up until Ed indicated he was done choosing, the eight-slot black travel tin Ed had apparently decided to use already at least partially filled and closed up so no one could even guess what blends were inside.
"Any you can't have?" Jet asked, picking up his own travel tin decorated with cartoonish praying mantises. "So I don't accidentally buy you a tea you can't drink." He filled one of the compartments with a black tea and cornflower blend. "That's not- I have money, I like spending it. Especially on things for family and friends, gifts for just because. I don't expect things back, gifts are gifts not obligations. But at the same time it's not really fair to you if I buy you something you don't like or can't enjoy."
A wildberry tea and a Paris Black blend joined Jet's picks, along with a chamomile and honey tea and a few spoonfuls from a jar of something that looked a lot like pure gold glitter dust. "This thing's weird. Cool patterns from the convection currents though." Jet hummed, amused, rolling the jar between his hands once he'd resealed it. "Chrysanthemum tea, but also edible glitter. It's very sparkly, and pretty nice, though it doesn't really work if you try adding it to other teas. You just get the other tea, but sparkly, and maybe a hint of undefined plant if you put in too much of this."
"Uh, only like, the ones with almond flavoring, usually," Ed responded hesitantly. "Or any other nuts, I haven't come across any with anything else that's not safe. The plain or fruit ones are safe."
Ed glanced at the shimmering gold powder. "Oh."
On any other occasion, the chrysanthemum tea would have piqued Ed's curiosity. Today, the mental image of a gold drink was a little too close to fCon's energy, and the nightmare he'd rather put as far behind him as possible.
"Alright, I'll avoid anything with nuts. Or potential nuts." Jet promised, already thinking through what was in the kitchen of the house he was living in while Lora figured out what to do with it. He could already think of a handful of things that weren't Ed-safe there, but he could probably just give them and any other unsafe food to Sam.
"I don't think I've ever actually been to a wedding where this tea was an option." Jet commented, putting the Wedding Tea tin back. "Granted, I haven't been to many weddings in general, but... seems kind of silly to me to have a tea just for special occasions like that - if you like it, and you can get it, why not have it? Being alive is a special enough occasion, life's too short to not have the things you like when you want them."
He picked a hibiscus and apple tea as his last choice, closing up the travel tin and starting to put the assorted teas away. "Let me know if you change your mind or want any of these as well as what you've already got. I'll get them down for you, it's no problem."
Jet's never... encountered Wedding Tea at a wedding? Was he overthinking the situation? Did it really... mean nothing? Or at least not what Ed thought it did? Ed didn't know if he was more confused or less.
What did it mean???
"I, ah, I've only encountered the tea twice before," Ed admitted. "First at Theo's wedding, and then... at a wedding one of the shareholders invited us to a couple years back. Maybe it shouldn't be... just for weddings, because then who knows how often you'll get it, but... that's part of the point of reserving things for special occasions-- it makes it... special? Kinda like... I dunno. ...Christmas custard, or... something like that."
He glanced at his own set of teas one last time, then back up at the cabinet. Did he want...
Or maybe he should switch out the Darjeeling for the strawberry honeybush? Or maybe the green chai?
He'd try the all in one sitting, afraid that he'd never get another chance, but didn't dare take more than he had.
Ed shook his head and closed his tin. "I think I'm done." He'd probably never make a decision otherwise.
"Mmm, yeah, I see your point. If you have something that's supposed to be special too often, it stops being special and starts being ordinary, yeah?" Jet checked. "Though I guess- I guess it also depends on how you define special."
"We tend to treat teas - and food in general - as more ordinary than special, because what's the point of leaving half a tin of tea up on the shelf for who knows how long until the next special enough occasion happens? It could go off, and then you don't even have it for the special occasion. Drink it, enjoy it, life's too short to waste it or deny yourself the treat." He shrugged. "A special occasion for us is more about the people. Getting to see each other, having fun, sharing stories or just spending time together. Mom and Dad both have large families but since they're scattered all over the place we don't see everyone often. Meeting up? That's our kind of special. The food and drink is just something you happen to have as well, since everyone needs to eat at some point."
"Alright, I'll put these back for now." Jet hummed, doing exactly that - putting the two teas that weren't Ed-safe together to one edge of a shelf, so grabbing a tea at random was less likely to be one Ed couldn't have. "Can always have different ones next time, right?"
Ed shrugs. He'd never considered that special occasions were supposed to be about the other people.
Of course they were supposed to be, but--The rest of the Dillingers were in England, and the McLaughlins, last he remembered, were spread between North Carolina and Maine. While the rest of the Dillingers weren't... terrible, the one time he'd visited, his father had managed to cause so much tension, it had been impossible for Ed to connect with any of them.
Holidays meant Ed was trapped with his father for the vacation when he was a kid, lonely weeks working at the tea shop between university semesters while everyone else went home, or now having the duty of entertaining fCon's investors at the lavish company parties his father hosted.
"Oh," he said, shoulders hunched in a little more.
He glanced back at the teas.
"Right," he echoed.
...It was still hard to believe there would be a next time, that any of this would last any stretch of time, even if he knew his father had no intention for him to go home, even if he wanted to, or if Jet promised he wouldn't.
"That's the spirit." Jet hummed. "Life's too short to not try tea."
"Alright, I'll just grab the flasks, and the mugs. Could you please step left a little, just need to get in this cupboard- thanks Ed. There's an exit that'll take us out into Encom not too far from here, and that in itself won't be too far from my car." Jet busied himself with boiling enough water for two large thermos flasks, so there'd be more than enough for tea. "In the meantime, aside from the tea and everything you have on you that you came into the Grid with, anything you want to have with you when we're out? It's just a toggle setting, easy to change - means if you want your new coat, for instance, you can have it."
The mention of Encom filled him with dread. He hadn't been there since the interview. He'd felt like everyone had watched him as he made his way to the interview room, like they saw the name on his visitor's badge, and knew he didn't belong.
That had been before he'd been rejected.
Reluctantly, he pulls his disc out of it's pocket, and slowly navigates to his inventory, only half remembered from the day--night? before--from earlier, it felt like an eternity ago. The coat was nice, but a bit too warm for a summer day in So-Cal. Still...
"W--what happens to my disc, when we leave?" he asked.
Was he going to have to carry it around for the rest of his life?
... Did he need anything else from the grid when they leave? Did he want anything?
"Wh- oh! Oh, yeah, thought I forgot to say something. Couldn't for the life of me remember what." Jet clicked his fingers absently, acknowledging the reminder. "Sorry Ed. Right, your disc, leaving the Grid. Kind of up to you what happens to it."
"Default is it kind of- merges with you? Sounds way scarier than it is, it's just- we are not the Ood, we don't have a second brain. I don't know the exact science of it, but the physical disc and anything stored on it ends up kind of just. Not existing physically. You'll have it if you come back onto the Grid, but not when you're not on it."
"There is the option to have it with you as a physical thing, but it's way smaller. Necklace pendant smaller, the kind you can hide under your clothes. Most Programs I've met that have left the Grid do that, even if they're only off it for short bursts. More as a physical reassurance they still have it thing than because it does anything."
"...Oh." Ed wasn't sure if that helped or not. At least that meant it was a choice. Though on one hand... not having to worry about losing it was a relief, on the other... there were a million what-if's.
At least it meant he didn't need the coat to carry it around.
...The coat was nice. Soft, and big enough to hide in. But. California summer.
Reluctantly, Ed turned off the display on his disc. Better not to worry about carrying something else around that could get lost or be taken away. The same for the coat, and everything else on the disc.
That was, of course, assuming he would eventually come back to the Grid.
Jet hummed quietly to himself, fishing out two miniature flasks as well as both large silver thermoses - one relatively pristine chrome, and the other black but dented and its attached cup held together with red electrical tape. He made sure to wash both out while the kettle boiled - more precautionary than needed, but since he couldn't remember what teas had been in either it was safer for Ed to do so.
"Wanna write down the address of the post office we'll be getting the PO Box key from, and the pharmacy your Programs mentioned they'd already handled your prescriptions at? Makes things a bit easier, so we can plan a route - less time travelling, more time relaxing and feeding bird friends." Jet offered a notepad and pencil for Ed, leaving them on the kitchen bench so he could fill the thermos flasks.
After causing quite a bit of trouble for the Occupation, Ark decided that it was best for her to lay low for a while.
The area around Bostrum seemed like a good choice. The Colony had been infected and devastated, but the Crystal Conduit was far enough away that it likely was spared from the Virus' wrath.
The Conduit was full of energy and crystals, and also Gridbugs. But, she hadn't seen a swarm of them on her one previous visit, just a few here and there. The danger added to the relative safety of it, as most programs wouldn't venture out there.
The roads on the way to and from Bostrum were intact close to Tron City, but the further and further they got from the living City, the more damaged they became.
Ark's trek was slowed as she navigated the shattered roads, occasionally making a small detour into the Outlands to dodge debris.
Upon reaching Bostrum, she took a quick break on the outskirts to rest and replenish from the plentiful energyfalls that surrounded the former Colony. The Conduit was still further ahead.
Ark's travels took her through caves and canyons and the more crystals she saw, the closer she got to her destination.
Crystals dotted the rocky landscape as she compressed her light cycle into its baton and continued by foot.
It had been many cycles since she had been here and the crystals had grown and shifted around the area, so there were new paths she hadn't seen before.
One such winding path took her down far below the main level of the Conduit.
There, she was greeted by an underground energy pool encased in a cavern full of blue energy crystals.
The sight was beautiful, and she slipped into the shimmering energy to float along and rest.
As she floated, she drifted from cave to cave, each one containing crystals of a different color that imposed their wavelengths upon the energy below - and Ark and her circuits.
The caves made a ring around one in the middle, after doing a full circuit around, she slowly swam into the middle chamber to observe it.
There, the cavern was full of crystals of every size and color, but most impressive was the energyfall that flowed down one of the cave walls.
Surrounding the energyfall itself were the many colors of crystals, spiraling up it in a wonderous play of light.
The result was absolutely breathtaking.
Ark had heard that the Crystal Conduit contained the source of energy for all the falls around the Colony, and this astounding place felt like it should be that source itself.
After taking in the sights, she spent her time floating and swimming through the caverns of colorful lights.
Fortunately, there were rocky landings in all of the chambers, allowing her to climb up out of the energy and sit as long as she liked.
As far as places to hide and stay for a while, this one was among the best she could imagine.
((This post is for Ark on the Grid, but if anyone else wants to play, that's cool, too - it can be a memory or hologram or something.
Also, the Crystal Conduit is from the Tron: Evolution DS game, but I've done my own things with it - partially inspired by the purple water at sunset in Animal Crossing: Pocket Camp.))
"I learned from Bits. Gridbugs are like very angry, always hungry Bits. What works with one usually at least sort of works with the other." Call shrugged, going back to working on their eye drawing in the dust. "Bits hate the Red-tubes too. Will lead Gridbugs to them. Is why the Reds hate Bits - if they see a Bit inside their spaces, there are usually Gridbugs somewhere close, so they kill the Bit. Bits cannot hide as easy, and the Gridbugs get confused and lost inside without the Bit to help them."
"Bit and Gridbug... like Program and Virus. Very like each other, but also very different."
-
Ark tilted her head, she hadn't had much experience with Bits, certainly much less than she had fighting Gridbugs.
"Wow...I had no idea that they worked together. I assumed that the Gridbugs would eat Bits. And, I didn't know the Bits worked against the Occupation like that. I know they used to guide programs through the cities, though. Is there any way we can convince them to help us?"
"They don't usually. Bits normally get eaten by Gridbugs, but... when there is worse, they will help instead. Is like... if you have enemy, you fight enemy. Right? But then bigger enemy turns up - threat to you and your enemy. If you and your enemy are smart, then you and your enemy can agree to work together to deal with the bigger enemy. You are still enemies, but... both can put that away because there is worse enemy to deal with and two can fight it better than one."
"To a Bit, a Gridbug is an enemy to run away from. But... the Red is worse, and they cannot run away from it forever, and it will destroy them all instead of just the ones that are too slow or tired to run. And the Gridbugs agree getting rid of the Red is more important than eating Bits. So they work together to get rid of the Red."
Call grimaced. "Most Bits do not like Programs any more. Not hate, but... not trust. Too many are gone now, and the ones that are left lived because they ran away from Programs instead of helped. They will only help if they think it is worth it - if they can get away, should they need to. Easier to outrun Gridbugs, and Gridbugs do not have hands to grab with or build cages to trap them."
Ark nodded thoughtfully, "Makes sense, if something's worse, two or more togerher are much more powerful than just one."
She sighed, "Yeah...the Occupation will never stop, while Gridbugs eat because they have to."
Her heart sank when she heard that Bits didn't trust programs any more, "Oh...that explains why I haven't seen any in a very long time. I'm glad that there's some that got away, but heartbreaking that it's not safe for them to trust programs any more..."
"My template's fixing-mentor used to have a Bit. A Red tried to kill it." Call poked little diamonds around the corner of their eye drawing. "My template grabbed it out of the air and snuck it away to the Defender's den. It did not like being grabbed, but better grabbed than shattered." They smiled when they were done, deciding they were finished. "The Defender claims to not like the Bit, but it is only words. The snuggles and happy Bit say otherwise."
"Before there were Programs, there were Bits. After Programs, there will be Bits. They know how to survive. They hide, they sleep, they wait. They learn who they can and cannot trust, who sees them and who doesn't. They are very clever, for things that are important for Bits to be clever in."
"Sometimes thinking like a Bit is smarter than thinking like a Program, because Bits do not care about the silly parts of Program sensibilities. Bits do not care about things like colour or filetype, only about whether the new maybe-friend will be a friend or not."
"Many things to learn, from all of life. A flock is better than to be alone. The hive is only strong when all work together. The world is less scary when you let yourself learn about it. Filetypes do not matter, only actions and intent. A directive is not all that makes a core. Different does not mean bad. Sometimes to be safe you must become dangerous." Call listed off things they themself had learned from watching as much of the Grid as their short runtime had allowed. "Is good to be alive. Always more to see and do and learn, new friends to make and new places to explore."
Ark did her best to keep up with Call's list. It was a good list, but there was a lot to it, and it took her a tick to process it all.
"Sounds like you've learned a lot of fantastic things. Lessons some programs still haven't learned."
And some she hadn't been able to really put into practice, especially the ones about working with others, as she had been fighting alone for many, many cycles.
"I did not always learn from Programs - when I formed, the Red already existed, and Programs were forgetting how to trust." Call flexed their fingers. "My template taught me lots, but... if you sit by a lake long enough, sometimes the braver Bits come out of hiding. Always in more than ones, always bringing in lonely ones so they are no longer alone. If you hide and be sneaky, you can watch how Gridbugs work together to make their tunnels and move rocks many times their size. They teach too, in their own way."
"That is probably the most important thing I have learned. To watch and listen and learn from the world, not just from what you are told to learn from."
Ark sighed softly, "I'm sorry you didn't get to see the Grid before the Occupation took over. It was so much better..." It was better times, for sure.
"I didn't know Bits liked lakes, I'll have to try waiting around for some sometime." She didn't get out a lot, this particular excursion was a rare one for her. "And I had no idea that Gridbugs did anything but devour."
She nodded thoughtfully, "I'll have to remember that and pay more attention to everything else."
"See? Learning. Always learning, new things to find out. Correct bad information, confirm good, make more whole incomplete. And Gridbugs now less scary - some are fluffy, can treat like angry hungry Bit, easy to distract, hate the Red, do not eat people if other food available, make tunnels together. Not just eat and swarm, eat and swarm, eat and swarm."
Call shrugged. "I did not see before. But I will see after. When the Enemy and the Red are gone. I will see then. My template will see then. You will see then. The Defender will see then. My friends will see then. There will be an after, and we will all see it."
Ark gave Call a nod, "Right. And, yeah, it'll be interesting to try and work with those Gridbugs going forward."
She smiled, "Yeah, I'm looking forward to the cycle when the Occupation is gone. No more pain and suffering, no more forcing people to do bad. Just everybody working together to help each other out." Ark wasn't sure she'd survive to see that cycle, since fighting the Occupation was dangerous, but she still longed for that future, even if it was for everybody else's sake.
"We will see it." Call promised. "All will. The Red will not be here forever."
Eventually the young Infected got bored of their tile game and watching the fountain, scampering off as a small mob towards the centre of the square. They vanished into the twisted wreckage of several buildings, quick and lightfooted enough not to send any of the seemingly less stable sections tumbling down.
"And now they leave." Call noted. "But they will not be gone long. They like here, and will like it even more now the fountain is working. More fun with splashing each other."
"And, it'll be a cycle to remember when it happens," Ark replied, "The Grid will be free forever after that." Once the Occupation was gone, they could work towards making sure nobody could take over like that ever again.
It had been almost easy to forget about the presence of the Infected, Ark and Call had just talked together, a little more quietly than normal.
"Yeah, it's a lot nicer with the fountain working. Should we leave, too? That way they might feel more comfortable to come back without us here." Call knew more about them, so she'd let them make that call.
"As long as we do not follow them." Call decided. "That would be scary for them." They tilted their head one way, then the other. "Perhaps..."
"There is books. Lots of books, all in big place. None go in there, because they know they cannot touch the books or they will break the books." Call offered. "But Programs can touch the books."
"I have tried to keep the books safe - no wet on them, shoo the bugs away, careful careful touches with all of... this-" they pointed at their yellow circuits. "-kept as far away as I can. All books are good - even the ones that are wrong. As long as people know they are wrong, they are good to show how words can lie but seem good."
At the mention of books, Ark gasped. She had only seen the User artifacts in passing, but it made sense that some were here in Bostrum, as Flynn had said he was going to show them to the ISOs. It was nothing short of a miracle that they were still here, and even more so that they were still intact.
"Really? That's amazing! I didn't know there were any books still left on the Grid!"
They sounded delicate, but just looking at them couldn't hurt them, right?
Call nodded. "Many books. Some very strange, lots of thin things making the book. Some even stranger, thin things made of light making the book."
"I do not know what is in most of the books. Too many." Call hesitated. "Also it is hard to learn to read when you cannot touch the books. My template helps with words I do not know, and copies books so I can touch the copies, but... he cannot be here all the time, and copying takes long time. I still try, but... very hard. Worth learning, but big struggle."
Your Blorbo had to eat the last food you ate (not a leftover, but the exact same food that you ate; for instance, if the last food you ate was Jajangmyeon, they’d have to eat a fresh bowl of Jajangmyeon too).
Would they be happy about it?
Yes
No
Voting ended onJul 19
Every poll on this blog is about fictional characters only. This request was sent to us and we made a poll in response to it. Send any Blorbo-related question you want to our inbox and we’ll make a poll on which people can vote with their own Blorbos in minds
Had an idea for a thread with fCon Ed - or, at least, Ed getting a friend and dragged out of fCon...... whether he realises he needs to get out, or not. Respond if interested :)
Eve peeked around the door of the tech conference's closing gala, eyeing the attendees. She wasn't supposed to be here. Wasn't supposed to be this side of the screen. Definitely wasn't supposed to be attempting to poach employees from rival companies.
But really, was it poaching when it felt more like a rescue?
Future Control Industries... Eve shuddered. She knew exactly what kind of Programs they had as flagships. The Master Control Program that had torn through her home before she was aware enough to understand what was wrong was proof enough.
But their new star programmer...
The child of the owner, named for the same. Intelligent, inventive, driven. A dangerous young man, second only to his father.
At least, according to the media.
Eve thought Edward Dillinger Junior looked... tired. Burnt out. Chained to the man who even now gripped his shoulder so tightly it couldn't be any less than painful.
In need of an Admin - someone to look out for him and help him thrive.
Eve could provide.
She flashed her pass, a gift from Lora Prime - unable to make the conference for health reasons - and stepped in to mingle. Her black dress shimmered pink in the lights, heels high and sharp, eyeliner like tiny knives.
The Legacy Grid had become a battleground not too dissimilar to this one, for all the weapons didn't leave visible wounds. And Eve was an Encom Program - designed, as they all were, to adapt and fight.
Ed always hated tech conferences. It's something he should have looked forward to. There were lots of good talks about the latest innovations, demos of the latest gadgets, lots of fascinating ideas.
It also meant he was stuck in close quarters with his father and no escape.
"Because of his disability," his father rationalized. And maybe that was part of it, but Ed was also aware it was to keep him in line. He had his entire schedule handed to him, every second of his day and a warning not to deviate.
By the time the closing gala arrived, Ed was exhausted. The ballroom was too loud, to bright, and Ed was out of patience for interacting with his father's business partners, or anyone. The only saving grace was the soft silk of his outfit expensive outfit. Ed doubted he could manage any other texture.
He just wanted to go back to the their suit at the hotel and sleep.
Ed snapped at a one of his father's business partners. Someone important, though Ed doesn't remember the man's name, and doesn't particularly care to.
His father squeezed his shoulder in warning.
It's only years of training and discipline that kept Ed from tensing or flinching. He apologized, then excused himself. His father stepped in to smooth things over, and Ed took the opportunity to attempt to disappear into the crowd, though he's aware Dymitr--Ed's "assistant", though Ed was fully aware that the man reported to his father and was truly there to keep him in line-- is following him, not too far behind.
He had been so focused on putting space between him and his father's business partner that he hadn't noticed the woman approaching until she was nearly upon him.
Ed nodded. Perhaps some time, when he wasn't so overwhelmed, he might like to meet him.
...On the other hand if he worked with Tron...
Better not poke a sleeping dragon.
He followed Jet into the kitchen, cautiously peering into the rooms as they passed.
"Please," he said, barely above a whisper. He could still only barely tolerate the sound of his own voice, feeling drained just from standing.
...The cafe sounded nice. He'd have to track it down, once he'd... settled somewhat. Figured out what to do with his life, some form of income, how to survive the week once he left Encom's Grid.
"Any time. Now go sit, get comfy, I'll bring this over to you. Tea's always best somewhere cozy." Jet didn't even hesitate in bringing down the good mugs - a design Ed would recognize, given they matched Eve's - adding a teaspoon of the white tea to a blue-green iridescent mug covered in shifting scales. His own tea - the same blend, but with added butterfly pea flowers for no purpose other than turning it blue - went into a mug covered in a veritable rainbow of dots.
Ed glanced around, then pulled out a chair from the kitchen table almost silently, and then sank into it.
The cups looked vaguely familiar, though in the chaos of the past two weeks, Ed couldn't tell if they were exactly the same ones that Eve had or not, and even if they were... Perhaps they had just come from the same place?
Jet was half-expecting Ed to head for the living room - comfier seats, clearer surroundings, far less cramped - but the kitchen bench was good too. Still comfy chairs, still relaxing, somewhere relatively familiar in a world turned on its head quite literally overnight.
Jet supposed it depended on which discomfited Ed more - the view out over the Grid from the living room windows, or the way the kitchen bench seats meant Ed had his back to a door.
"Here." Jet placed the mug down in front of Ed, along with an empty saucer - "for the strainer, once you've decided it's brewed enough" - and sat down at the end of the bench. He couldn't watch all the doors for Ed's sake, but he could keep an eye on the hallway. After all, if anyone unexpected was going to approach, it would be from there.
Admittedly, what was most discomfiting was the idea of being alone in a house full of near strangers who might walk into the room at any moment, and whose reactions Ed had no way to predict. While he would rather have his back to a wall and no way to sneak up on him, the place he felt most comfortable with was with the one person who was predictable, who, for reasons he could not comprehend, never hated him, and still didn't, even after everything that happened that night.
"Thank you," Ed replied.
...The tea smelled nice, with just a hint of floral notes.
Had this blend been one of the ones they'd kept in stock at the tea shop he used to work at?
"Any time, Ed. Any time." Jet hummed, cupping his hands around his mug - too hot to drink yet, but nice to hold.
The quiet, save for the hum of Alan's sewing machine once he started using it, started out peaceful enough. Ed, though, seemed to get... not fidgety, exactly, as it stretched, but certainly uncomfortable with the lack of talking. Like he was expecting someone to say something that wasn't coming, bracing himself for some diatribe that wasn't happening.
"Anything you want to do today?" Jet asked after a while. "I know we should probably check out that PO box for you, see what's there, but... the whole day's open. We could go to a park, if you want? Grab a picnic, and some birdseed, relax for a few hours feeding the ducks and pidgeons?" He shrugged. "I have all day, I don't mind."
After a few minutes, Ed removed the the strainer from his cup, and set it on the saucer, careful not to drip on the table.
He knew he had this tea before, but it was none of the ones he remembered restocking in the early mornings, was he forgetting one?
Ed lifted the cup to his lips, careful to keep a solid grip on the cup so he wouldn't drop it--
That taste. He knew that taste--
A bouquet of violets decorating a table with a white table cloth, and expensive china plates at each setting. A string quartet, friends of his new aunt's, playing classical music. His aunt--his father's sister, looking stunning in her purple tuxedo as she danced with her wife...
A blue tin, only big enough for a few sachets of tea, slipped into his jacket pocket when his father refused to take it.
Oh no.
Another event, more recent--this time one of his father's associates. This time the decorations all white. The groom's white suit doing his already pale complexion and pale blond hair no favors. His father glowering at him while he sweated over which option would incur the least judgement among a table with no right options. A cubical tea tin, in the same shade of blue, and in elegant cursive on the side--
Wedding Tea
...Did--did Jet know?
Did he--? Was he trying to--?
Was he--proposing? to him???
Ed set the mug down, somewhat glad his hands had been unsteady before, careful to keep the realization or panic out of his expression, his face a careful, bland mask.
It took a minute for his reeling mind to realize that Jet had asked him something, and to catch up with what had been asked.
"I--" He wasn't sure what he wanted. He wasn't sure there what he could reasonably do with his limited energy without tiring out. Feeding the birds, at least, seemed like something he could do without pushing himself too hard.
"Alright, after we check your PO box we'll swing past a pet store to get some birdseed - there's a really nice one run by a local family. And- wait, do you have an epipen on you? More for security's sake than anything, better safe than sorry. If you don't, and there's a prescription in the box, we should probably pick that up too." Jet frowned into his tea. He hadn't seen one in Ed's inventory, but then again he hadn't exactly looked either. "Allergies are serious, and while I promise to be as careful as I can for you there's not- being careful isn't a guarantee, and I'd rather be overprepared."
Ed looked up at Jet, careful to keep his expression to... an acceptable amount of interest. He hadn't been in one in ages. Not since it was just him and his mother living together. She used to like looking at the fish, had always wanted a saltwater tank that would take up the whole living room wall, and would make collages of what decorations and fish she'd put in it.
Ed had been captivated by the sweet song of the canaries, the energy of the finches, the intelligence behind the African grey parrot's eyes, and the sweet docility of the doves.
He froze at the mention of the epi-pen. Any talk about his healthcare had always been... a quick way to anger his father.
He glanced up at Jet, his grip tightening slightly around the hot ceramic mug in his hand. "I--ah, no," he stuttered.
Jet took a deep breath, and let it out. That was... another thing he'd suspected, and hoped he was wrong about. "Alright. We're definitely getting that today."
Getting mad will not help Ed. Getting mad will not help Ed. Getting mad will do the exact opposite of helping Ed. None of this is Ed's fault, getting mad will not help Ed.
"I'm not mad at you." Jet watched the steam rising from his tea in ribbons and whorls, voice calm but knuckles clenched white as he gripped his mug. "I'm angry at that waste of space daring to call itself your father, because an epipen is life-saving medication and to withhold it from you when it's in your name and should be in your possession is illegal. I'm a little angry at myself, because normally I keep one in the first aid kit of my car - I'm first-aid qualified and allowed to carry one - but it lapsed and I haven't replaced it yet. If it hadn't, I'd be giving it to you, but I can't do that because I didn't pay attention and let the fucking thing expire. I am furious at everyone who thought it was okay for you to be treated like that, letting someone put your life at risk just for that bastard to feel important and powerful."
"But none of that is your fault. Could never be your fault. I am not mad at you."
"So I am going to calm down, and we are going to fix the problem. Starting with getting you any and all the medication you should be on, because you having immediate access to the things that keep you alive and in the best possible health is a necessity, not a privilege." Jet closed his eyes a moment, then looked at Ed. "No one gets to hold that much power over whether you live or die."
Not mad at you was the biggest lie ever told, from Ed's previous experience, and the times it wasn't, either the implied disappointment was worse, or it didn't stop his father from taking out his anger on him.
His heart beat rapidly, his pulse echoing loudly in his head.
Ed set his mug down as quietly as he could hands shaking so much the tea treated to spill over the lip. He haunched his shoulders, wishing he could disappear.
He'd hoped that Jet would have assumed he just left his epi-pen on his desk, that he didn't want to risk the medicine getting digitized incorrectly or corrupting or worse, that he wouldn't realize or ask why he wasn't allowed.
He didn't have his wallet and didn't know the information for health insurance.
Jet just breathed for a while - focusing on the smell of his tea, the coolness of the benchtop, the whir of Alan's sewing machine. Safe things, familiar things, pulling him back down to something approaching an even keel.
Ed was scared enough. He didn't need to see Jet lose his temper, even if he wasn't and would never be the target of it.
"Ed?" Jet asked quietly. "What can I do to help prove to you I'm not going to hurt you?"
"I'm not- you don't have to trust me yet. Too many have broken your trust. I'd like the chance to earn your trust, that's all. But you've gotta give me a map, Ed, so I don't hurt you on the way."
"I'm- I'm scared. You've been hurt for so long, in so many different ways, and I know I don't know all of it. I'm scared of finding out how bad it was, how close we came to losing you, knowing I can't go back and change that. I can't timetravel to when we were sixteen and get you out of that fucking house, consequences be damned - or even earlier, if I could." Jet reached out, palm up - waiting, giving Ed the choice of accepting his hand or not. "But I can't do that, I can only change from now."
"I want to help you. I want to give you somewhere safe, where you can be yourself, in charge of your own life and able to be Ed. I want to lift as much of that weight off your shoulders as I can, help you carry it until you feel like you can let it go for good."
"But I don't know how to do that yet, because- I'm a Bradley, at the end of the day. I'm teeth and claws, another dog in a world where you've already been thrown to the wolves. I'm not good at being safe - a sword isn't a shield, and I don't know how to be a shield. And while I'm gonna do my damndest to make sure I never hurt you, I don't know how to not scare you because you know better than anyone that if you let me that close I could."
"I'm not angry at you. I don't think I ever could be. But I am scared for you. The world for the most part has not been kind to you, and I'm terrified of you getting crushed or killed by it just because some prick with more ego than sense or money - and he has a lot of the latter - thinks it's okay to treat you like a thing."
What did Ed need from Jet so that he could trust him? It's not... really a question he's ever thought about. People had a tendency to reveal themselves quickly when they heard the name Dillinger. They either pretended to like him because of his father's wealth and the power it bought, or hated him for his father's corruption.
Very few saw Ed for who he was.
And for reasons Ed couldn't understand. Jet didn't hate him, when he among almost everyone else should.
He wanted to trust Jet. There had been a point, before Ed knew who he was placing that trust in, where Ed had let him into a very small part of his life, and trusted the faceless E.nigma more than anyone else in his life.
That had been before his health took a sharp decline, before he'd had to accept his fate at fCon because no one else in the industry would hire him, and his father found out about his betrayal.
He didn't know if he could ever trust anyone again.
"I don't--"
What do you mean you don't know? Use that brain of yours. FIGURE IT OUT!
He couldn't reasonably tell Jet to never be mad at him.
Nor could he ask him to not touch him. That never went over well.
He just wanted the world to stop playing dice with his life long enough he could think clearly.
"Just..." Space? He didn't want Jet to think he was pushing him away, not when he finally had a friend--
"...stay.... Please."
Just give him something constant to hold on to... please.
"Okay. I'll stay." Jet promised quietly. "I'll stay. And if I can't physically stay, I'll make sure you know where I am, and I'll always come back to you." A safe port in a storm, steady ground in a shifting world, a constant among the change. Jet could do that.
So few in Ed's life had ever kept their promise, and Jet couldn't keep that promise forever, but in the few short days--hours? Ed had no idea how to count the time in here--that he knew Jet as... well Jethro Bradley, and not E. Nigma, he'd done as he said he would.
Ed wanted to trust Jet. He wanted to be able to trust him completely. He already trusted him more than anyone else that had been in his life between when he'd come back from Pennsylvania and last night's board meeting--had already had so many vulnerabilities exposed it felt like Jet could reach into his chest and crush his heart with his bare hand if he wanted to, and that terrified him. And yet--
Nobody ever stayed. Not for long. Once Jet helped Ed figure out the what next, he would probably leave too.
He knew that was just the skeptic in his head talking, that he couldn't know for certain it would happen that way.
He wanted this time to be different, wanted to believe that someone would stay a constant in his life that actually wanted him as a person, someone other than his father and the bastard's sycophant.
Only time would tell.
Ed blinked, his eyes suddenly moist. He picked up his mug of tea, both hands still trembling, and took a drink, trying to clear his throat.
He was not going to cry. Not here, not now. Not when there were too many others he didn't trust--
"O--okay..." he said, as loud and clear and smooth as he could without his voice wavering or betraying him--which was barely above a whisper.
"Any time, Ed." Jet had to listen hard to catch Ed's voice, but heard every word - and the stuttered syllables where his breath didn't quite hold steady, the tripped-up words where his thoughts fell over each other between truthful and guarded. "Any time at all."
He took another drink, and focused on it's citrusy notes and floral aromt. The faintly warm ceramic in his hands.
Anything besides the maelstrom of emotion.
He set his mug down and stared at it's tea-stained bottom, unable to look up at Jet and torn between wishing for more and needing to get up, and get moving before he spiraled.
"So, three things to do today. Only three." Jet hummed quietly. "Checking the PO box, getting your medication, and feeding the birds. Unless you want to do more, but don't push yourself on my account."
"If you want, we can have a picnic at the same time as we feed the birds? Bring some flasks, a few different teas, get some food. Hang out, you know? Soak up some sun, stuff like that."
Three things. That's all that was planned for the day. Just three.
...Ed had no idea if he could do even that. He was still exhausted and could hardly walk. He couldn't guess if he's collapse before they got to the park and feeding the birds, or if he's even make it through the first task.
And that was nothing to day of the anxiety of adding food to the equation. They'd probably have to stop somewhere to pick something up.
"That sounds nice," he admitted. Would be, if he could make it that far.
"Wanna look through the teas? Pick ones you'll enjoy?" Jet invited. "Don't worry about the topmost shelf - everything up there is a duplicate of something lower down - but anything on the other two is fair game. Maybe grab a few - travel tins are on the bottom shelf, they're all multi-compartment so you can take a selection."
"And I'll make sure the travel mugs have strainers, so you don't have to limit yourself to teabags - hot water can go in its own flasks, means you don't have to worry at ending up with a super-blend that doesn't taste all that great if you decide to switch."
Normally Jet would just take the entire tea tin or box, and maybe leave a note if he remembered. Ed, significantly less used to being allowed to do that, would most likely not handle doing so quite as well - at minimum, limiting his tea selection to those tentatively and somewhat arbitrarily labeled as safe choices, instead of ones he actually enjoyed. So, the travel tins it was.
Ed nodded, and hesitantly pushed himself to his feet.
He froze, palms flat against the table and teeth grit against the wave of vertigo from standing so quickly.
It took him a moment to hazard shuffling back toward the cabinets to pick through the teas.
...so many options.
How many was he supposed to pick?
The white tea had been nice, and... Jet drank it too and nobody said anything, so it had to be safe?
Ed picked up the blue tin to set it aside.
Wedding Tea
...so he had remembered that correctly.
Oh no.
Did Jet--Jet definitely knew. There was no way he didn't know, didn't intentionally--
...if he put it in the stash did that... count as accepting Jet's proposal? Did he--he'd asked Jet to stay, did he think--?
Ed didn't--!
He likes Jet, but he doesn't like people like that. He's broken. Jet wouldn't want when he can't reciprocate those feelings.
Ed cautiously set the tin down. He didn't want to upset Jet by discarding it, but--
If he just kept staring at the tin, Jet would get impatient. He's just picking teas. It wasn't...
He'd just lost his life as he knew it, he wasn't ready to make a decision like that!
Ed picked up the next tea. Lavender Lemon. Tempting, he liked the floral teas, liked the way they smelled, but-- he was going to be judged for that one, Jet was going to make fun of him he--
They're doing that thing, with secret messages, aren't they? Like the Victorians did with flowers?
He didn't remember how flower language worked, how was he supposed to do that with tea?
Moroccan mint. Most likely safe....
He continued to look through the rest of the assortment. By the time he was done, he had half a dozen teas that he hoped were... hopefully safe and hopefully not giving a message that would upset Jet.
Jet finished off his own tea, watching the doors both to give Ed some privacy choosing his teas and to make sure no one came in without warning. It didn't really matter how long Ed took - there were a lot of options, and Jet knew he didn't remember what all of Ed's allergies were. While the bulk were probably safe, checking the teas to confirm Ed could drink them and they wouldn't cause problems took time.
Jet already knew which teas he wanted, anyway. Getting them wouldn't take long.
He didn't get up until Ed indicated he was done choosing, the eight-slot black travel tin Ed had apparently decided to use already at least partially filled and closed up so no one could even guess what blends were inside.
"Any you can't have?" Jet asked, picking up his own travel tin decorated with cartoonish praying mantises. "So I don't accidentally buy you a tea you can't drink." He filled one of the compartments with a black tea and cornflower blend. "That's not- I have money, I like spending it. Especially on things for family and friends, gifts for just because. I don't expect things back, gifts are gifts not obligations. But at the same time it's not really fair to you if I buy you something you don't like or can't enjoy."
A wildberry tea and a Paris Black blend joined Jet's picks, along with a chamomile and honey tea and a few spoonfuls from a jar of something that looked a lot like pure gold glitter dust. "This thing's weird. Cool patterns from the convection currents though." Jet hummed, amused, rolling the jar between his hands once he'd resealed it. "Chrysanthemum tea, but also edible glitter. It's very sparkly, and pretty nice, though it doesn't really work if you try adding it to other teas. You just get the other tea, but sparkly, and maybe a hint of undefined plant if you put in too much of this."
"Uh, only like, the ones with almond flavoring, usually," Ed responded hesitantly. "Or any other nuts, I haven't come across any with anything else that's not safe. The plain or fruit ones are safe."
Ed glanced at the shimmering gold powder. "Oh."
On any other occasion, the chrysanthemum tea would have piqued Ed's curiosity. Today, the mental image of a gold drink was a little too close to fCon's energy, and the nightmare he'd rather put as far behind him as possible.
"Alright, I'll avoid anything with nuts. Or potential nuts." Jet promised, already thinking through what was in the kitchen of the house he was living in while Lora figured out what to do with it. He could already think of a handful of things that weren't Ed-safe there, but he could probably just give them and any other unsafe food to Sam.
"I don't think I've ever actually been to a wedding where this tea was an option." Jet commented, putting the Wedding Tea tin back. "Granted, I haven't been to many weddings in general, but... seems kind of silly to me to have a tea just for special occasions like that - if you like it, and you can get it, why not have it? Being alive is a special enough occasion, life's too short to not have the things you like when you want them."
He picked a hibiscus and apple tea as his last choice, closing up the travel tin and starting to put the assorted teas away. "Let me know if you change your mind or want any of these as well as what you've already got. I'll get them down for you, it's no problem."
Jet's never... encountered Wedding Tea at a wedding? Was he overthinking the situation? Did it really... mean nothing? Or at least not what Ed thought it did? Ed didn't know if he was more confused or less.
What did it mean???
"I, ah, I've only encountered the tea twice before," Ed admitted. "First at Theo's wedding, and then... at a wedding one of the shareholders invited us to a couple years back. Maybe it shouldn't be... just for weddings, because then who knows how often you'll get it, but... that's part of the point of reserving things for special occasions-- it makes it... special? Kinda like... I dunno. ...Christmas custard, or... something like that."
He glanced at his own set of teas one last time, then back up at the cabinet. Did he want...
Or maybe he should switch out the Darjeeling for the strawberry honeybush? Or maybe the green chai?
He'd try the all in one sitting, afraid that he'd never get another chance, but didn't dare take more than he had.
Ed shook his head and closed his tin. "I think I'm done." He'd probably never make a decision otherwise.
"Mmm, yeah, I see your point. If you have something that's supposed to be special too often, it stops being special and starts being ordinary, yeah?" Jet checked. "Though I guess- I guess it also depends on how you define special."
"We tend to treat teas - and food in general - as more ordinary than special, because what's the point of leaving half a tin of tea up on the shelf for who knows how long until the next special enough occasion happens? It could go off, and then you don't even have it for the special occasion. Drink it, enjoy it, life's too short to waste it or deny yourself the treat." He shrugged. "A special occasion for us is more about the people. Getting to see each other, having fun, sharing stories or just spending time together. Mom and Dad both have large families but since they're scattered all over the place we don't see everyone often. Meeting up? That's our kind of special. The food and drink is just something you happen to have as well, since everyone needs to eat at some point."
"Alright, I'll put these back for now." Jet hummed, doing exactly that - putting the two teas that weren't Ed-safe together to one edge of a shelf, so grabbing a tea at random was less likely to be one Ed couldn't have. "Can always have different ones next time, right?"
Ed shrugs. He'd never considered that special occasions were supposed to be about the other people.
Of course they were supposed to be, but--The rest of the Dillingers were in England, and the McLaughlins, last he remembered, were spread between North Carolina and Maine. While the rest of the Dillingers weren't... terrible, the one time he'd visited, his father had managed to cause so much tension, it had been impossible for Ed to connect with any of them.
Holidays meant Ed was trapped with his father for the vacation when he was a kid, lonely weeks working at the tea shop between university semesters while everyone else went home, or now having the duty of entertaining fCon's investors at the lavish company parties his father hosted.
"Oh," he said, shoulders hunched in a little more.
He glanced back at the teas.
"Right," he echoed.
...It was still hard to believe there would be a next time, that any of this would last any stretch of time, even if he knew his father had no intention for him to go home, even if he wanted to, or if Jet promised he wouldn't.
"That's the spirit." Jet hummed. "Life's too short to not try tea."
"Alright, I'll just grab the flasks, and the mugs. Could you please step left a little, just need to get in this cupboard- thanks Ed. There's an exit that'll take us out into Encom not too far from here, and that in itself won't be too far from my car." Jet busied himself with boiling enough water for two large thermos flasks, so there'd be more than enough for tea. "In the meantime, aside from the tea and everything you have on you that you came into the Grid with, anything you want to have with you when we're out? It's just a toggle setting, easy to change - means if you want your new coat, for instance, you can have it."
The mention of Encom filled him with dread. He hadn't been there since the interview. He'd felt like everyone had watched him as he made his way to the interview room, like they saw the name on his visitor's badge, and knew he didn't belong.
That had been before he'd been rejected.
Reluctantly, he pulls his disc out of it's pocket, and slowly navigates to his inventory, only half remembered from the day--night? before--from earlier, it felt like an eternity ago. The coat was nice, but a bit too warm for a summer day in So-Cal. Still...
"W--what happens to my disc, when we leave?" he asked.
Was he going to have to carry it around for the rest of his life?
... Did he need anything else from the grid when they leave? Did he want anything?
"Wh- oh! Oh, yeah, thought I forgot to say something. Couldn't for the life of me remember what." Jet clicked his fingers absently, acknowledging the reminder. "Sorry Ed. Right, your disc, leaving the Grid. Kind of up to you what happens to it."
"Default is it kind of- merges with you? Sounds way scarier than it is, it's just- we are not the Ood, we don't have a second brain. I don't know the exact science of it, but the physical disc and anything stored on it ends up kind of just. Not existing physically. You'll have it if you come back onto the Grid, but not when you're not on it."
"There is the option to have it with you as a physical thing, but it's way smaller. Necklace pendant smaller, the kind you can hide under your clothes. Most Programs I've met that have left the Grid do that, even if they're only off it for short bursts. More as a physical reassurance they still have it thing than because it does anything."
Had an idea for a thread with fCon Ed - or, at least, Ed getting a friend and dragged out of fCon...... whether he realises he needs to get out, or not. Respond if interested :)
Eve peeked around the door of the tech conference's closing gala, eyeing the attendees. She wasn't supposed to be here. Wasn't supposed to be this side of the screen. Definitely wasn't supposed to be attempting to poach employees from rival companies.
But really, was it poaching when it felt more like a rescue?
Future Control Industries... Eve shuddered. She knew exactly what kind of Programs they had as flagships. The Master Control Program that had torn through her home before she was aware enough to understand what was wrong was proof enough.
But their new star programmer...
The child of the owner, named for the same. Intelligent, inventive, driven. A dangerous young man, second only to his father.
At least, according to the media.
Eve thought Edward Dillinger Junior looked... tired. Burnt out. Chained to the man who even now gripped his shoulder so tightly it couldn't be any less than painful.
In need of an Admin - someone to look out for him and help him thrive.
Eve could provide.
She flashed her pass, a gift from Lora Prime - unable to make the conference for health reasons - and stepped in to mingle. Her black dress shimmered pink in the lights, heels high and sharp, eyeliner like tiny knives.
The Legacy Grid had become a battleground not too dissimilar to this one, for all the weapons didn't leave visible wounds. And Eve was an Encom Program - designed, as they all were, to adapt and fight.
Ed always hated tech conferences. It's something he should have looked forward to. There were lots of good talks about the latest innovations, demos of the latest gadgets, lots of fascinating ideas.
It also meant he was stuck in close quarters with his father and no escape.
"Because of his disability," his father rationalized. And maybe that was part of it, but Ed was also aware it was to keep him in line. He had his entire schedule handed to him, every second of his day and a warning not to deviate.
By the time the closing gala arrived, Ed was exhausted. The ballroom was too loud, to bright, and Ed was out of patience for interacting with his father's business partners, or anyone. The only saving grace was the soft silk of his outfit expensive outfit. Ed doubted he could manage any other texture.
He just wanted to go back to the their suit at the hotel and sleep.
Ed snapped at a one of his father's business partners. Someone important, though Ed doesn't remember the man's name, and doesn't particularly care to.
His father squeezed his shoulder in warning.
It's only years of training and discipline that kept Ed from tensing or flinching. He apologized, then excused himself. His father stepped in to smooth things over, and Ed took the opportunity to attempt to disappear into the crowd, though he's aware Dymitr--Ed's "assistant", though Ed was fully aware that the man reported to his father and was truly there to keep him in line-- is following him, not too far behind.
He had been so focused on putting space between him and his father's business partner that he hadn't noticed the woman approaching until she was nearly upon him.
Ed nodded. Perhaps some time, when he wasn't so overwhelmed, he might like to meet him.
...On the other hand if he worked with Tron...
Better not poke a sleeping dragon.
He followed Jet into the kitchen, cautiously peering into the rooms as they passed.
"Please," he said, barely above a whisper. He could still only barely tolerate the sound of his own voice, feeling drained just from standing.
...The cafe sounded nice. He'd have to track it down, once he'd... settled somewhat. Figured out what to do with his life, some form of income, how to survive the week once he left Encom's Grid.
"Any time. Now go sit, get comfy, I'll bring this over to you. Tea's always best somewhere cozy." Jet didn't even hesitate in bringing down the good mugs - a design Ed would recognize, given they matched Eve's - adding a teaspoon of the white tea to a blue-green iridescent mug covered in shifting scales. His own tea - the same blend, but with added butterfly pea flowers for no purpose other than turning it blue - went into a mug covered in a veritable rainbow of dots.
Ed glanced around, then pulled out a chair from the kitchen table almost silently, and then sank into it.
The cups looked vaguely familiar, though in the chaos of the past two weeks, Ed couldn't tell if they were exactly the same ones that Eve had or not, and even if they were... Perhaps they had just come from the same place?
Jet was half-expecting Ed to head for the living room - comfier seats, clearer surroundings, far less cramped - but the kitchen bench was good too. Still comfy chairs, still relaxing, somewhere relatively familiar in a world turned on its head quite literally overnight.
Jet supposed it depended on which discomfited Ed more - the view out over the Grid from the living room windows, or the way the kitchen bench seats meant Ed had his back to a door.
"Here." Jet placed the mug down in front of Ed, along with an empty saucer - "for the strainer, once you've decided it's brewed enough" - and sat down at the end of the bench. He couldn't watch all the doors for Ed's sake, but he could keep an eye on the hallway. After all, if anyone unexpected was going to approach, it would be from there.
Admittedly, what was most discomfiting was the idea of being alone in a house full of near strangers who might walk into the room at any moment, and whose reactions Ed had no way to predict. While he would rather have his back to a wall and no way to sneak up on him, the place he felt most comfortable with was with the one person who was predictable, who, for reasons he could not comprehend, never hated him, and still didn't, even after everything that happened that night.
"Thank you," Ed replied.
...The tea smelled nice, with just a hint of floral notes.
Had this blend been one of the ones they'd kept in stock at the tea shop he used to work at?
"Any time, Ed. Any time." Jet hummed, cupping his hands around his mug - too hot to drink yet, but nice to hold.
The quiet, save for the hum of Alan's sewing machine once he started using it, started out peaceful enough. Ed, though, seemed to get... not fidgety, exactly, as it stretched, but certainly uncomfortable with the lack of talking. Like he was expecting someone to say something that wasn't coming, bracing himself for some diatribe that wasn't happening.
"Anything you want to do today?" Jet asked after a while. "I know we should probably check out that PO box for you, see what's there, but... the whole day's open. We could go to a park, if you want? Grab a picnic, and some birdseed, relax for a few hours feeding the ducks and pidgeons?" He shrugged. "I have all day, I don't mind."
After a few minutes, Ed removed the the strainer from his cup, and set it on the saucer, careful not to drip on the table.
He knew he had this tea before, but it was none of the ones he remembered restocking in the early mornings, was he forgetting one?
Ed lifted the cup to his lips, careful to keep a solid grip on the cup so he wouldn't drop it--
That taste. He knew that taste--
A bouquet of violets decorating a table with a white table cloth, and expensive china plates at each setting. A string quartet, friends of his new aunt's, playing classical music. His aunt--his father's sister, looking stunning in her purple tuxedo as she danced with her wife...
A blue tin, only big enough for a few sachets of tea, slipped into his jacket pocket when his father refused to take it.
Oh no.
Another event, more recent--this time one of his father's associates. This time the decorations all white. The groom's white suit doing his already pale complexion and pale blond hair no favors. His father glowering at him while he sweated over which option would incur the least judgement among a table with no right options. A cubical tea tin, in the same shade of blue, and in elegant cursive on the side--
Wedding Tea
...Did--did Jet know?
Did he--? Was he trying to--?
Was he--proposing? to him???
Ed set the mug down, somewhat glad his hands had been unsteady before, careful to keep the realization or panic out of his expression, his face a careful, bland mask.
It took a minute for his reeling mind to realize that Jet had asked him something, and to catch up with what had been asked.
"I--" He wasn't sure what he wanted. He wasn't sure there what he could reasonably do with his limited energy without tiring out. Feeding the birds, at least, seemed like something he could do without pushing himself too hard.
"Alright, after we check your PO box we'll swing past a pet store to get some birdseed - there's a really nice one run by a local family. And- wait, do you have an epipen on you? More for security's sake than anything, better safe than sorry. If you don't, and there's a prescription in the box, we should probably pick that up too." Jet frowned into his tea. He hadn't seen one in Ed's inventory, but then again he hadn't exactly looked either. "Allergies are serious, and while I promise to be as careful as I can for you there's not- being careful isn't a guarantee, and I'd rather be overprepared."
Ed looked up at Jet, careful to keep his expression to... an acceptable amount of interest. He hadn't been in one in ages. Not since it was just him and his mother living together. She used to like looking at the fish, had always wanted a saltwater tank that would take up the whole living room wall, and would make collages of what decorations and fish she'd put in it.
Ed had been captivated by the sweet song of the canaries, the energy of the finches, the intelligence behind the African grey parrot's eyes, and the sweet docility of the doves.
He froze at the mention of the epi-pen. Any talk about his healthcare had always been... a quick way to anger his father.
He glanced up at Jet, his grip tightening slightly around the hot ceramic mug in his hand. "I--ah, no," he stuttered.
Jet took a deep breath, and let it out. That was... another thing he'd suspected, and hoped he was wrong about. "Alright. We're definitely getting that today."
Getting mad will not help Ed. Getting mad will not help Ed. Getting mad will do the exact opposite of helping Ed. None of this is Ed's fault, getting mad will not help Ed.
"I'm not mad at you." Jet watched the steam rising from his tea in ribbons and whorls, voice calm but knuckles clenched white as he gripped his mug. "I'm angry at that waste of space daring to call itself your father, because an epipen is life-saving medication and to withhold it from you when it's in your name and should be in your possession is illegal. I'm a little angry at myself, because normally I keep one in the first aid kit of my car - I'm first-aid qualified and allowed to carry one - but it lapsed and I haven't replaced it yet. If it hadn't, I'd be giving it to you, but I can't do that because I didn't pay attention and let the fucking thing expire. I am furious at everyone who thought it was okay for you to be treated like that, letting someone put your life at risk just for that bastard to feel important and powerful."
"But none of that is your fault. Could never be your fault. I am not mad at you."
"So I am going to calm down, and we are going to fix the problem. Starting with getting you any and all the medication you should be on, because you having immediate access to the things that keep you alive and in the best possible health is a necessity, not a privilege." Jet closed his eyes a moment, then looked at Ed. "No one gets to hold that much power over whether you live or die."
Not mad at you was the biggest lie ever told, from Ed's previous experience, and the times it wasn't, either the implied disappointment was worse, or it didn't stop his father from taking out his anger on him.
His heart beat rapidly, his pulse echoing loudly in his head.
Ed set his mug down as quietly as he could hands shaking so much the tea treated to spill over the lip. He haunched his shoulders, wishing he could disappear.
He'd hoped that Jet would have assumed he just left his epi-pen on his desk, that he didn't want to risk the medicine getting digitized incorrectly or corrupting or worse, that he wouldn't realize or ask why he wasn't allowed.
He didn't have his wallet and didn't know the information for health insurance.
Jet just breathed for a while - focusing on the smell of his tea, the coolness of the benchtop, the whir of Alan's sewing machine. Safe things, familiar things, pulling him back down to something approaching an even keel.
Ed was scared enough. He didn't need to see Jet lose his temper, even if he wasn't and would never be the target of it.
"Ed?" Jet asked quietly. "What can I do to help prove to you I'm not going to hurt you?"
"I'm not- you don't have to trust me yet. Too many have broken your trust. I'd like the chance to earn your trust, that's all. But you've gotta give me a map, Ed, so I don't hurt you on the way."
"I'm- I'm scared. You've been hurt for so long, in so many different ways, and I know I don't know all of it. I'm scared of finding out how bad it was, how close we came to losing you, knowing I can't go back and change that. I can't timetravel to when we were sixteen and get you out of that fucking house, consequences be damned - or even earlier, if I could." Jet reached out, palm up - waiting, giving Ed the choice of accepting his hand or not. "But I can't do that, I can only change from now."
"I want to help you. I want to give you somewhere safe, where you can be yourself, in charge of your own life and able to be Ed. I want to lift as much of that weight off your shoulders as I can, help you carry it until you feel like you can let it go for good."
"But I don't know how to do that yet, because- I'm a Bradley, at the end of the day. I'm teeth and claws, another dog in a world where you've already been thrown to the wolves. I'm not good at being safe - a sword isn't a shield, and I don't know how to be a shield. And while I'm gonna do my damndest to make sure I never hurt you, I don't know how to not scare you because you know better than anyone that if you let me that close I could."
"I'm not angry at you. I don't think I ever could be. But I am scared for you. The world for the most part has not been kind to you, and I'm terrified of you getting crushed or killed by it just because some prick with more ego than sense or money - and he has a lot of the latter - thinks it's okay to treat you like a thing."
What did Ed need from Jet so that he could trust him? It's not... really a question he's ever thought about. People had a tendency to reveal themselves quickly when they heard the name Dillinger. They either pretended to like him because of his father's wealth and the power it bought, or hated him for his father's corruption.
Very few saw Ed for who he was.
And for reasons Ed couldn't understand. Jet didn't hate him, when he among almost everyone else should.
He wanted to trust Jet. There had been a point, before Ed knew who he was placing that trust in, where Ed had let him into a very small part of his life, and trusted the faceless E.nigma more than anyone else in his life.
That had been before his health took a sharp decline, before he'd had to accept his fate at fCon because no one else in the industry would hire him, and his father found out about his betrayal.
He didn't know if he could ever trust anyone again.
"I don't--"
What do you mean you don't know? Use that brain of yours. FIGURE IT OUT!
He couldn't reasonably tell Jet to never be mad at him.
Nor could he ask him to not touch him. That never went over well.
He just wanted the world to stop playing dice with his life long enough he could think clearly.
"Just..." Space? He didn't want Jet to think he was pushing him away, not when he finally had a friend--
"...stay.... Please."
Just give him something constant to hold on to... please.
"Okay. I'll stay." Jet promised quietly. "I'll stay. And if I can't physically stay, I'll make sure you know where I am, and I'll always come back to you." A safe port in a storm, steady ground in a shifting world, a constant among the change. Jet could do that.
So few in Ed's life had ever kept their promise, and Jet couldn't keep that promise forever, but in the few short days--hours? Ed had no idea how to count the time in here--that he knew Jet as... well Jethro Bradley, and not E. Nigma, he'd done as he said he would.
Ed wanted to trust Jet. He wanted to be able to trust him completely. He already trusted him more than anyone else that had been in his life between when he'd come back from Pennsylvania and last night's board meeting--had already had so many vulnerabilities exposed it felt like Jet could reach into his chest and crush his heart with his bare hand if he wanted to, and that terrified him. And yet--
Nobody ever stayed. Not for long. Once Jet helped Ed figure out the what next, he would probably leave too.
He knew that was just the skeptic in his head talking, that he couldn't know for certain it would happen that way.
He wanted this time to be different, wanted to believe that someone would stay a constant in his life that actually wanted him as a person, someone other than his father and the bastard's sycophant.
Only time would tell.
Ed blinked, his eyes suddenly moist. He picked up his mug of tea, both hands still trembling, and took a drink, trying to clear his throat.
He was not going to cry. Not here, not now. Not when there were too many others he didn't trust--
"O--okay..." he said, as loud and clear and smooth as he could without his voice wavering or betraying him--which was barely above a whisper.
"Any time, Ed." Jet had to listen hard to catch Ed's voice, but heard every word - and the stuttered syllables where his breath didn't quite hold steady, the tripped-up words where his thoughts fell over each other between truthful and guarded. "Any time at all."
He took another drink, and focused on it's citrusy notes and floral aromt. The faintly warm ceramic in his hands.
Anything besides the maelstrom of emotion.
He set his mug down and stared at it's tea-stained bottom, unable to look up at Jet and torn between wishing for more and needing to get up, and get moving before he spiraled.
"So, three things to do today. Only three." Jet hummed quietly. "Checking the PO box, getting your medication, and feeding the birds. Unless you want to do more, but don't push yourself on my account."
"If you want, we can have a picnic at the same time as we feed the birds? Bring some flasks, a few different teas, get some food. Hang out, you know? Soak up some sun, stuff like that."
Three things. That's all that was planned for the day. Just three.
...Ed had no idea if he could do even that. He was still exhausted and could hardly walk. He couldn't guess if he's collapse before they got to the park and feeding the birds, or if he's even make it through the first task.
And that was nothing to day of the anxiety of adding food to the equation. They'd probably have to stop somewhere to pick something up.
"That sounds nice," he admitted. Would be, if he could make it that far.
"Wanna look through the teas? Pick ones you'll enjoy?" Jet invited. "Don't worry about the topmost shelf - everything up there is a duplicate of something lower down - but anything on the other two is fair game. Maybe grab a few - travel tins are on the bottom shelf, they're all multi-compartment so you can take a selection."
"And I'll make sure the travel mugs have strainers, so you don't have to limit yourself to teabags - hot water can go in its own flasks, means you don't have to worry at ending up with a super-blend that doesn't taste all that great if you decide to switch."
Normally Jet would just take the entire tea tin or box, and maybe leave a note if he remembered. Ed, significantly less used to being allowed to do that, would most likely not handle doing so quite as well - at minimum, limiting his tea selection to those tentatively and somewhat arbitrarily labeled as safe choices, instead of ones he actually enjoyed. So, the travel tins it was.
Ed nodded, and hesitantly pushed himself to his feet.
He froze, palms flat against the table and teeth grit against the wave of vertigo from standing so quickly.
It took him a moment to hazard shuffling back toward the cabinets to pick through the teas.
...so many options.
How many was he supposed to pick?
The white tea had been nice, and... Jet drank it too and nobody said anything, so it had to be safe?
Ed picked up the blue tin to set it aside.
Wedding Tea
...so he had remembered that correctly.
Oh no.
Did Jet--Jet definitely knew. There was no way he didn't know, didn't intentionally--
...if he put it in the stash did that... count as accepting Jet's proposal? Did he--he'd asked Jet to stay, did he think--?
Ed didn't--!
He likes Jet, but he doesn't like people like that. He's broken. Jet wouldn't want when he can't reciprocate those feelings.
Ed cautiously set the tin down. He didn't want to upset Jet by discarding it, but--
If he just kept staring at the tin, Jet would get impatient. He's just picking teas. It wasn't...
He'd just lost his life as he knew it, he wasn't ready to make a decision like that!
Ed picked up the next tea. Lavender Lemon. Tempting, he liked the floral teas, liked the way they smelled, but-- he was going to be judged for that one, Jet was going to make fun of him he--
They're doing that thing, with secret messages, aren't they? Like the Victorians did with flowers?
He didn't remember how flower language worked, how was he supposed to do that with tea?
Moroccan mint. Most likely safe....
He continued to look through the rest of the assortment. By the time he was done, he had half a dozen teas that he hoped were... hopefully safe and hopefully not giving a message that would upset Jet.
Jet finished off his own tea, watching the doors both to give Ed some privacy choosing his teas and to make sure no one came in without warning. It didn't really matter how long Ed took - there were a lot of options, and Jet knew he didn't remember what all of Ed's allergies were. While the bulk were probably safe, checking the teas to confirm Ed could drink them and they wouldn't cause problems took time.
Jet already knew which teas he wanted, anyway. Getting them wouldn't take long.
He didn't get up until Ed indicated he was done choosing, the eight-slot black travel tin Ed had apparently decided to use already at least partially filled and closed up so no one could even guess what blends were inside.
"Any you can't have?" Jet asked, picking up his own travel tin decorated with cartoonish praying mantises. "So I don't accidentally buy you a tea you can't drink." He filled one of the compartments with a black tea and cornflower blend. "That's not- I have money, I like spending it. Especially on things for family and friends, gifts for just because. I don't expect things back, gifts are gifts not obligations. But at the same time it's not really fair to you if I buy you something you don't like or can't enjoy."
A wildberry tea and a Paris Black blend joined Jet's picks, along with a chamomile and honey tea and a few spoonfuls from a jar of something that looked a lot like pure gold glitter dust. "This thing's weird. Cool patterns from the convection currents though." Jet hummed, amused, rolling the jar between his hands once he'd resealed it. "Chrysanthemum tea, but also edible glitter. It's very sparkly, and pretty nice, though it doesn't really work if you try adding it to other teas. You just get the other tea, but sparkly, and maybe a hint of undefined plant if you put in too much of this."
"Uh, only like, the ones with almond flavoring, usually," Ed responded hesitantly. "Or any other nuts, I haven't come across any with anything else that's not safe. The plain or fruit ones are safe."
Ed glanced at the shimmering gold powder. "Oh."
On any other occasion, the chrysanthemum tea would have piqued Ed's curiosity. Today, the mental image of a gold drink was a little too close to fCon's energy, and the nightmare he'd rather put as far behind him as possible.
"Alright, I'll avoid anything with nuts. Or potential nuts." Jet promised, already thinking through what was in the kitchen of the house he was living in while Lora figured out what to do with it. He could already think of a handful of things that weren't Ed-safe there, but he could probably just give them and any other unsafe food to Sam.
"I don't think I've ever actually been to a wedding where this tea was an option." Jet commented, putting the Wedding Tea tin back. "Granted, I haven't been to many weddings in general, but... seems kind of silly to me to have a tea just for special occasions like that - if you like it, and you can get it, why not have it? Being alive is a special enough occasion, life's too short to not have the things you like when you want them."
He picked a hibiscus and apple tea as his last choice, closing up the travel tin and starting to put the assorted teas away. "Let me know if you change your mind or want any of these as well as what you've already got. I'll get them down for you, it's no problem."
Jet's never... encountered Wedding Tea at a wedding? Was he overthinking the situation? Did it really... mean nothing? Or at least not what Ed thought it did? Ed didn't know if he was more confused or less.
What did it mean???
"I, ah, I've only encountered the tea twice before," Ed admitted. "First at Theo's wedding, and then... at a wedding one of the shareholders invited us to a couple years back. Maybe it shouldn't be... just for weddings, because then who knows how often you'll get it, but... that's part of the point of reserving things for special occasions-- it makes it... special? Kinda like... I dunno. ...Christmas custard, or... something like that."
He glanced at his own set of teas one last time, then back up at the cabinet. Did he want...
Or maybe he should switch out the Darjeeling for the strawberry honeybush? Or maybe the green chai?
He'd try the all in one sitting, afraid that he'd never get another chance, but didn't dare take more than he had.
Ed shook his head and closed his tin. "I think I'm done." He'd probably never make a decision otherwise.
"Mmm, yeah, I see your point. If you have something that's supposed to be special too often, it stops being special and starts being ordinary, yeah?" Jet checked. "Though I guess- I guess it also depends on how you define special."
"We tend to treat teas - and food in general - as more ordinary than special, because what's the point of leaving half a tin of tea up on the shelf for who knows how long until the next special enough occasion happens? It could go off, and then you don't even have it for the special occasion. Drink it, enjoy it, life's too short to waste it or deny yourself the treat." He shrugged. "A special occasion for us is more about the people. Getting to see each other, having fun, sharing stories or just spending time together. Mom and Dad both have large families but since they're scattered all over the place we don't see everyone often. Meeting up? That's our kind of special. The food and drink is just something you happen to have as well, since everyone needs to eat at some point."
"Alright, I'll put these back for now." Jet hummed, doing exactly that - putting the two teas that weren't Ed-safe together to one edge of a shelf, so grabbing a tea at random was less likely to be one Ed couldn't have. "Can always have different ones next time, right?"
Ed shrugs. He'd never considered that special occasions were supposed to be about the other people.
Of course they were supposed to be, but--The rest of the Dillingers were in England, and the McLaughlins, last he remembered, were spread between North Carolina and Maine. While the rest of the Dillingers weren't... terrible, the one time he'd visited, his father had managed to cause so much tension, it had been impossible for Ed to connect with any of them.
Holidays meant Ed was trapped with his father for the vacation when he was a kid, lonely weeks working at the tea shop between university semesters while everyone else went home, or now having the duty of entertaining fCon's investors at the lavish company parties his father hosted.
"Oh," he said, shoulders hunched in a little more.
He glanced back at the teas.
"Right," he echoed.
...It was still hard to believe there would be a next time, that any of this would last any stretch of time, even if he knew his father had no intention for him to go home, even if he wanted to, or if Jet promised he wouldn't.
"That's the spirit." Jet hummed. "Life's too short to not try tea."
"Alright, I'll just grab the flasks, and the mugs. Could you please step left a little, just need to get in this cupboard- thanks Ed. There's an exit that'll take us out into Encom not too far from here, and that in itself won't be too far from my car." Jet busied himself with boiling enough water for two large thermos flasks, so there'd be more than enough for tea. "In the meantime, aside from the tea and everything you have on you that you came into the Grid with, anything you want to have with you when we're out? It's just a toggle setting, easy to change - means if you want your new coat, for instance, you can have it."
After causing quite a bit of trouble for the Occupation, Ark decided that it was best for her to lay low for a while.
The area around Bostrum seemed like a good choice. The Colony had been infected and devastated, but the Crystal Conduit was far enough away that it likely was spared from the Virus' wrath.
The Conduit was full of energy and crystals, and also Gridbugs. But, she hadn't seen a swarm of them on her one previous visit, just a few here and there. The danger added to the relative safety of it, as most programs wouldn't venture out there.
The roads on the way to and from Bostrum were intact close to Tron City, but the further and further they got from the living City, the more damaged they became.
Ark's trek was slowed as she navigated the shattered roads, occasionally making a small detour into the Outlands to dodge debris.
Upon reaching Bostrum, she took a quick break on the outskirts to rest and replenish from the plentiful energyfalls that surrounded the former Colony. The Conduit was still further ahead.
Ark's travels took her through caves and canyons and the more crystals she saw, the closer she got to her destination.
Crystals dotted the rocky landscape as she compressed her light cycle into its baton and continued by foot.
It had been many cycles since she had been here and the crystals had grown and shifted around the area, so there were new paths she hadn't seen before.
One such winding path took her down far below the main level of the Conduit.
There, she was greeted by an underground energy pool encased in a cavern full of blue energy crystals.
The sight was beautiful, and she slipped into the shimmering energy to float along and rest.
As she floated, she drifted from cave to cave, each one containing crystals of a different color that imposed their wavelengths upon the energy below - and Ark and her circuits.
The caves made a ring around one in the middle, after doing a full circuit around, she slowly swam into the middle chamber to observe it.
There, the cavern was full of crystals of every size and color, but most impressive was the energyfall that flowed down one of the cave walls.
Surrounding the energyfall itself were the many colors of crystals, spiraling up it in a wonderous play of light.
The result was absolutely breathtaking.
Ark had heard that the Crystal Conduit contained the source of energy for all the falls around the Colony, and this astounding place felt like it should be that source itself.
After taking in the sights, she spent her time floating and swimming through the caverns of colorful lights.
Fortunately, there were rocky landings in all of the chambers, allowing her to climb up out of the energy and sit as long as she liked.
As far as places to hide and stay for a while, this one was among the best she could imagine.
((This post is for Ark on the Grid, but if anyone else wants to play, that's cool, too - it can be a memory or hologram or something.
Also, the Crystal Conduit is from the Tron: Evolution DS game, but I've done my own things with it - partially inspired by the purple water at sunset in Animal Crossing: Pocket Camp.))
"I learned from Bits. Gridbugs are like very angry, always hungry Bits. What works with one usually at least sort of works with the other." Call shrugged, going back to working on their eye drawing in the dust. "Bits hate the Red-tubes too. Will lead Gridbugs to them. Is why the Reds hate Bits - if they see a Bit inside their spaces, there are usually Gridbugs somewhere close, so they kill the Bit. Bits cannot hide as easy, and the Gridbugs get confused and lost inside without the Bit to help them."
"Bit and Gridbug... like Program and Virus. Very like each other, but also very different."
-
Ark tilted her head, she hadn't had much experience with Bits, certainly much less than she had fighting Gridbugs.
"Wow...I had no idea that they worked together. I assumed that the Gridbugs would eat Bits. And, I didn't know the Bits worked against the Occupation like that. I know they used to guide programs through the cities, though. Is there any way we can convince them to help us?"
"They don't usually. Bits normally get eaten by Gridbugs, but... when there is worse, they will help instead. Is like... if you have enemy, you fight enemy. Right? But then bigger enemy turns up - threat to you and your enemy. If you and your enemy are smart, then you and your enemy can agree to work together to deal with the bigger enemy. You are still enemies, but... both can put that away because there is worse enemy to deal with and two can fight it better than one."
"To a Bit, a Gridbug is an enemy to run away from. But... the Red is worse, and they cannot run away from it forever, and it will destroy them all instead of just the ones that are too slow or tired to run. And the Gridbugs agree getting rid of the Red is more important than eating Bits. So they work together to get rid of the Red."
Call grimaced. "Most Bits do not like Programs any more. Not hate, but... not trust. Too many are gone now, and the ones that are left lived because they ran away from Programs instead of helped. They will only help if they think it is worth it - if they can get away, should they need to. Easier to outrun Gridbugs, and Gridbugs do not have hands to grab with or build cages to trap them."
Ark nodded thoughtfully, "Makes sense, if something's worse, two or more togerher are much more powerful than just one."
She sighed, "Yeah...the Occupation will never stop, while Gridbugs eat because they have to."
Her heart sank when she heard that Bits didn't trust programs any more, "Oh...that explains why I haven't seen any in a very long time. I'm glad that there's some that got away, but heartbreaking that it's not safe for them to trust programs any more..."
"My template's fixing-mentor used to have a Bit. A Red tried to kill it." Call poked little diamonds around the corner of their eye drawing. "My template grabbed it out of the air and snuck it away to the Defender's den. It did not like being grabbed, but better grabbed than shattered." They smiled when they were done, deciding they were finished. "The Defender claims to not like the Bit, but it is only words. The snuggles and happy Bit say otherwise."
"Before there were Programs, there were Bits. After Programs, there will be Bits. They know how to survive. They hide, they sleep, they wait. They learn who they can and cannot trust, who sees them and who doesn't. They are very clever, for things that are important for Bits to be clever in."
"Sometimes thinking like a Bit is smarter than thinking like a Program, because Bits do not care about the silly parts of Program sensibilities. Bits do not care about things like colour or filetype, only about whether the new maybe-friend will be a friend or not."
"Many things to learn, from all of life. A flock is better than to be alone. The hive is only strong when all work together. The world is less scary when you let yourself learn about it. Filetypes do not matter, only actions and intent. A directive is not all that makes a core. Different does not mean bad. Sometimes to be safe you must become dangerous." Call listed off things they themself had learned from watching as much of the Grid as their short runtime had allowed. "Is good to be alive. Always more to see and do and learn, new friends to make and new places to explore."
Ark did her best to keep up with Call's list. It was a good list, but there was a lot to it, and it took her a tick to process it all.
"Sounds like you've learned a lot of fantastic things. Lessons some programs still haven't learned."
And some she hadn't been able to really put into practice, especially the ones about working with others, as she had been fighting alone for many, many cycles.
"I did not always learn from Programs - when I formed, the Red already existed, and Programs were forgetting how to trust." Call flexed their fingers. "My template taught me lots, but... if you sit by a lake long enough, sometimes the braver Bits come out of hiding. Always in more than ones, always bringing in lonely ones so they are no longer alone. If you hide and be sneaky, you can watch how Gridbugs work together to make their tunnels and move rocks many times their size. They teach too, in their own way."
"That is probably the most important thing I have learned. To watch and listen and learn from the world, not just from what you are told to learn from."
Ark sighed softly, "I'm sorry you didn't get to see the Grid before the Occupation took over. It was so much better..." It was better times, for sure.
"I didn't know Bits liked lakes, I'll have to try waiting around for some sometime." She didn't get out a lot, this particular excursion was a rare one for her. "And I had no idea that Gridbugs did anything but devour."
She nodded thoughtfully, "I'll have to remember that and pay more attention to everything else."
"See? Learning. Always learning, new things to find out. Correct bad information, confirm good, make more whole incomplete. And Gridbugs now less scary - some are fluffy, can treat like angry hungry Bit, easy to distract, hate the Red, do not eat people if other food available, make tunnels together. Not just eat and swarm, eat and swarm, eat and swarm."
Call shrugged. "I did not see before. But I will see after. When the Enemy and the Red are gone. I will see then. My template will see then. You will see then. The Defender will see then. My friends will see then. There will be an after, and we will all see it."
Ark gave Call a nod, "Right. And, yeah, it'll be interesting to try and work with those Gridbugs going forward."
She smiled, "Yeah, I'm looking forward to the cycle when the Occupation is gone. No more pain and suffering, no more forcing people to do bad. Just everybody working together to help each other out." Ark wasn't sure she'd survive to see that cycle, since fighting the Occupation was dangerous, but she still longed for that future, even if it was for everybody else's sake.
"We will see it." Call promised. "All will. The Red will not be here forever."
Eventually the young Infected got bored of their tile game and watching the fountain, scampering off as a small mob towards the centre of the square. They vanished into the twisted wreckage of several buildings, quick and lightfooted enough not to send any of the seemingly less stable sections tumbling down.
"And now they leave." Call noted. "But they will not be gone long. They like here, and will like it even more now the fountain is working. More fun with splashing each other."
"And, it'll be a cycle to remember when it happens," Ark replied, "The Grid will be free forever after that." Once the Occupation was gone, they could work towards making sure nobody could take over like that ever again.
It had been almost easy to forget about the presence of the Infected, Ark and Call had just talked together, a little more quietly than normal.
"Yeah, it's a lot nicer with the fountain working. Should we leave, too? That way they might feel more comfortable to come back without us here." Call knew more about them, so she'd let them make that call.
"As long as we do not follow them." Call decided. "That would be scary for them." They tilted their head one way, then the other. "Perhaps..."
"There is books. Lots of books, all in big place. None go in there, because they know they cannot touch the books or they will break the books." Call offered. "But Programs can touch the books."
"I have tried to keep the books safe - no wet on them, shoo the bugs away, careful careful touches with all of... this-" they pointed at their yellow circuits. "-kept as far away as I can. All books are good - even the ones that are wrong. As long as people know they are wrong, they are good to show how words can lie but seem good."
Had an idea for a thread with fCon Ed - or, at least, Ed getting a friend and dragged out of fCon...... whether he realises he needs to get out, or not. Respond if interested :)
Eve peeked around the door of the tech conference's closing gala, eyeing the attendees. She wasn't supposed to be here. Wasn't supposed to be this side of the screen. Definitely wasn't supposed to be attempting to poach employees from rival companies.
But really, was it poaching when it felt more like a rescue?
Future Control Industries... Eve shuddered. She knew exactly what kind of Programs they had as flagships. The Master Control Program that had torn through her home before she was aware enough to understand what was wrong was proof enough.
But their new star programmer...
The child of the owner, named for the same. Intelligent, inventive, driven. A dangerous young man, second only to his father.
At least, according to the media.
Eve thought Edward Dillinger Junior looked... tired. Burnt out. Chained to the man who even now gripped his shoulder so tightly it couldn't be any less than painful.
In need of an Admin - someone to look out for him and help him thrive.
Eve could provide.
She flashed her pass, a gift from Lora Prime - unable to make the conference for health reasons - and stepped in to mingle. Her black dress shimmered pink in the lights, heels high and sharp, eyeliner like tiny knives.
The Legacy Grid had become a battleground not too dissimilar to this one, for all the weapons didn't leave visible wounds. And Eve was an Encom Program - designed, as they all were, to adapt and fight.
Ed always hated tech conferences. It's something he should have looked forward to. There were lots of good talks about the latest innovations, demos of the latest gadgets, lots of fascinating ideas.
It also meant he was stuck in close quarters with his father and no escape.
"Because of his disability," his father rationalized. And maybe that was part of it, but Ed was also aware it was to keep him in line. He had his entire schedule handed to him, every second of his day and a warning not to deviate.
By the time the closing gala arrived, Ed was exhausted. The ballroom was too loud, to bright, and Ed was out of patience for interacting with his father's business partners, or anyone. The only saving grace was the soft silk of his outfit expensive outfit. Ed doubted he could manage any other texture.
He just wanted to go back to the their suit at the hotel and sleep.
Ed snapped at a one of his father's business partners. Someone important, though Ed doesn't remember the man's name, and doesn't particularly care to.
His father squeezed his shoulder in warning.
It's only years of training and discipline that kept Ed from tensing or flinching. He apologized, then excused himself. His father stepped in to smooth things over, and Ed took the opportunity to attempt to disappear into the crowd, though he's aware Dymitr--Ed's "assistant", though Ed was fully aware that the man reported to his father and was truly there to keep him in line-- is following him, not too far behind.
He had been so focused on putting space between him and his father's business partner that he hadn't noticed the woman approaching until she was nearly upon him.
Ed nodded. Perhaps some time, when he wasn't so overwhelmed, he might like to meet him.
...On the other hand if he worked with Tron...
Better not poke a sleeping dragon.
He followed Jet into the kitchen, cautiously peering into the rooms as they passed.
"Please," he said, barely above a whisper. He could still only barely tolerate the sound of his own voice, feeling drained just from standing.
...The cafe sounded nice. He'd have to track it down, once he'd... settled somewhat. Figured out what to do with his life, some form of income, how to survive the week once he left Encom's Grid.
"Any time. Now go sit, get comfy, I'll bring this over to you. Tea's always best somewhere cozy." Jet didn't even hesitate in bringing down the good mugs - a design Ed would recognize, given they matched Eve's - adding a teaspoon of the white tea to a blue-green iridescent mug covered in shifting scales. His own tea - the same blend, but with added butterfly pea flowers for no purpose other than turning it blue - went into a mug covered in a veritable rainbow of dots.
Ed glanced around, then pulled out a chair from the kitchen table almost silently, and then sank into it.
The cups looked vaguely familiar, though in the chaos of the past two weeks, Ed couldn't tell if they were exactly the same ones that Eve had or not, and even if they were... Perhaps they had just come from the same place?
Jet was half-expecting Ed to head for the living room - comfier seats, clearer surroundings, far less cramped - but the kitchen bench was good too. Still comfy chairs, still relaxing, somewhere relatively familiar in a world turned on its head quite literally overnight.
Jet supposed it depended on which discomfited Ed more - the view out over the Grid from the living room windows, or the way the kitchen bench seats meant Ed had his back to a door.
"Here." Jet placed the mug down in front of Ed, along with an empty saucer - "for the strainer, once you've decided it's brewed enough" - and sat down at the end of the bench. He couldn't watch all the doors for Ed's sake, but he could keep an eye on the hallway. After all, if anyone unexpected was going to approach, it would be from there.
Admittedly, what was most discomfiting was the idea of being alone in a house full of near strangers who might walk into the room at any moment, and whose reactions Ed had no way to predict. While he would rather have his back to a wall and no way to sneak up on him, the place he felt most comfortable with was with the one person who was predictable, who, for reasons he could not comprehend, never hated him, and still didn't, even after everything that happened that night.
"Thank you," Ed replied.
...The tea smelled nice, with just a hint of floral notes.
Had this blend been one of the ones they'd kept in stock at the tea shop he used to work at?
"Any time, Ed. Any time." Jet hummed, cupping his hands around his mug - too hot to drink yet, but nice to hold.
The quiet, save for the hum of Alan's sewing machine once he started using it, started out peaceful enough. Ed, though, seemed to get... not fidgety, exactly, as it stretched, but certainly uncomfortable with the lack of talking. Like he was expecting someone to say something that wasn't coming, bracing himself for some diatribe that wasn't happening.
"Anything you want to do today?" Jet asked after a while. "I know we should probably check out that PO box for you, see what's there, but... the whole day's open. We could go to a park, if you want? Grab a picnic, and some birdseed, relax for a few hours feeding the ducks and pidgeons?" He shrugged. "I have all day, I don't mind."
After a few minutes, Ed removed the the strainer from his cup, and set it on the saucer, careful not to drip on the table.
He knew he had this tea before, but it was none of the ones he remembered restocking in the early mornings, was he forgetting one?
Ed lifted the cup to his lips, careful to keep a solid grip on the cup so he wouldn't drop it--
That taste. He knew that taste--
A bouquet of violets decorating a table with a white table cloth, and expensive china plates at each setting. A string quartet, friends of his new aunt's, playing classical music. His aunt--his father's sister, looking stunning in her purple tuxedo as she danced with her wife...
A blue tin, only big enough for a few sachets of tea, slipped into his jacket pocket when his father refused to take it.
Oh no.
Another event, more recent--this time one of his father's associates. This time the decorations all white. The groom's white suit doing his already pale complexion and pale blond hair no favors. His father glowering at him while he sweated over which option would incur the least judgement among a table with no right options. A cubical tea tin, in the same shade of blue, and in elegant cursive on the side--
Wedding Tea
...Did--did Jet know?
Did he--? Was he trying to--?
Was he--proposing? to him???
Ed set the mug down, somewhat glad his hands had been unsteady before, careful to keep the realization or panic out of his expression, his face a careful, bland mask.
It took a minute for his reeling mind to realize that Jet had asked him something, and to catch up with what had been asked.
"I--" He wasn't sure what he wanted. He wasn't sure there what he could reasonably do with his limited energy without tiring out. Feeding the birds, at least, seemed like something he could do without pushing himself too hard.
"Alright, after we check your PO box we'll swing past a pet store to get some birdseed - there's a really nice one run by a local family. And- wait, do you have an epipen on you? More for security's sake than anything, better safe than sorry. If you don't, and there's a prescription in the box, we should probably pick that up too." Jet frowned into his tea. He hadn't seen one in Ed's inventory, but then again he hadn't exactly looked either. "Allergies are serious, and while I promise to be as careful as I can for you there's not- being careful isn't a guarantee, and I'd rather be overprepared."
Ed looked up at Jet, careful to keep his expression to... an acceptable amount of interest. He hadn't been in one in ages. Not since it was just him and his mother living together. She used to like looking at the fish, had always wanted a saltwater tank that would take up the whole living room wall, and would make collages of what decorations and fish she'd put in it.
Ed had been captivated by the sweet song of the canaries, the energy of the finches, the intelligence behind the African grey parrot's eyes, and the sweet docility of the doves.
He froze at the mention of the epi-pen. Any talk about his healthcare had always been... a quick way to anger his father.
He glanced up at Jet, his grip tightening slightly around the hot ceramic mug in his hand. "I--ah, no," he stuttered.
Jet took a deep breath, and let it out. That was... another thing he'd suspected, and hoped he was wrong about. "Alright. We're definitely getting that today."
Getting mad will not help Ed. Getting mad will not help Ed. Getting mad will do the exact opposite of helping Ed. None of this is Ed's fault, getting mad will not help Ed.
"I'm not mad at you." Jet watched the steam rising from his tea in ribbons and whorls, voice calm but knuckles clenched white as he gripped his mug. "I'm angry at that waste of space daring to call itself your father, because an epipen is life-saving medication and to withhold it from you when it's in your name and should be in your possession is illegal. I'm a little angry at myself, because normally I keep one in the first aid kit of my car - I'm first-aid qualified and allowed to carry one - but it lapsed and I haven't replaced it yet. If it hadn't, I'd be giving it to you, but I can't do that because I didn't pay attention and let the fucking thing expire. I am furious at everyone who thought it was okay for you to be treated like that, letting someone put your life at risk just for that bastard to feel important and powerful."
"But none of that is your fault. Could never be your fault. I am not mad at you."
"So I am going to calm down, and we are going to fix the problem. Starting with getting you any and all the medication you should be on, because you having immediate access to the things that keep you alive and in the best possible health is a necessity, not a privilege." Jet closed his eyes a moment, then looked at Ed. "No one gets to hold that much power over whether you live or die."
Not mad at you was the biggest lie ever told, from Ed's previous experience, and the times it wasn't, either the implied disappointment was worse, or it didn't stop his father from taking out his anger on him.
His heart beat rapidly, his pulse echoing loudly in his head.
Ed set his mug down as quietly as he could hands shaking so much the tea treated to spill over the lip. He haunched his shoulders, wishing he could disappear.
He'd hoped that Jet would have assumed he just left his epi-pen on his desk, that he didn't want to risk the medicine getting digitized incorrectly or corrupting or worse, that he wouldn't realize or ask why he wasn't allowed.
He didn't have his wallet and didn't know the information for health insurance.
Jet just breathed for a while - focusing on the smell of his tea, the coolness of the benchtop, the whir of Alan's sewing machine. Safe things, familiar things, pulling him back down to something approaching an even keel.
Ed was scared enough. He didn't need to see Jet lose his temper, even if he wasn't and would never be the target of it.
"Ed?" Jet asked quietly. "What can I do to help prove to you I'm not going to hurt you?"
"I'm not- you don't have to trust me yet. Too many have broken your trust. I'd like the chance to earn your trust, that's all. But you've gotta give me a map, Ed, so I don't hurt you on the way."
"I'm- I'm scared. You've been hurt for so long, in so many different ways, and I know I don't know all of it. I'm scared of finding out how bad it was, how close we came to losing you, knowing I can't go back and change that. I can't timetravel to when we were sixteen and get you out of that fucking house, consequences be damned - or even earlier, if I could." Jet reached out, palm up - waiting, giving Ed the choice of accepting his hand or not. "But I can't do that, I can only change from now."
"I want to help you. I want to give you somewhere safe, where you can be yourself, in charge of your own life and able to be Ed. I want to lift as much of that weight off your shoulders as I can, help you carry it until you feel like you can let it go for good."
"But I don't know how to do that yet, because- I'm a Bradley, at the end of the day. I'm teeth and claws, another dog in a world where you've already been thrown to the wolves. I'm not good at being safe - a sword isn't a shield, and I don't know how to be a shield. And while I'm gonna do my damndest to make sure I never hurt you, I don't know how to not scare you because you know better than anyone that if you let me that close I could."
"I'm not angry at you. I don't think I ever could be. But I am scared for you. The world for the most part has not been kind to you, and I'm terrified of you getting crushed or killed by it just because some prick with more ego than sense or money - and he has a lot of the latter - thinks it's okay to treat you like a thing."
What did Ed need from Jet so that he could trust him? It's not... really a question he's ever thought about. People had a tendency to reveal themselves quickly when they heard the name Dillinger. They either pretended to like him because of his father's wealth and the power it bought, or hated him for his father's corruption.
Very few saw Ed for who he was.
And for reasons Ed couldn't understand. Jet didn't hate him, when he among almost everyone else should.
He wanted to trust Jet. There had been a point, before Ed knew who he was placing that trust in, where Ed had let him into a very small part of his life, and trusted the faceless E.nigma more than anyone else in his life.
That had been before his health took a sharp decline, before he'd had to accept his fate at fCon because no one else in the industry would hire him, and his father found out about his betrayal.
He didn't know if he could ever trust anyone again.
"I don't--"
What do you mean you don't know? Use that brain of yours. FIGURE IT OUT!
He couldn't reasonably tell Jet to never be mad at him.
Nor could he ask him to not touch him. That never went over well.
He just wanted the world to stop playing dice with his life long enough he could think clearly.
"Just..." Space? He didn't want Jet to think he was pushing him away, not when he finally had a friend--
"...stay.... Please."
Just give him something constant to hold on to... please.
"Okay. I'll stay." Jet promised quietly. "I'll stay. And if I can't physically stay, I'll make sure you know where I am, and I'll always come back to you." A safe port in a storm, steady ground in a shifting world, a constant among the change. Jet could do that.
So few in Ed's life had ever kept their promise, and Jet couldn't keep that promise forever, but in the few short days--hours? Ed had no idea how to count the time in here--that he knew Jet as... well Jethro Bradley, and not E. Nigma, he'd done as he said he would.
Ed wanted to trust Jet. He wanted to be able to trust him completely. He already trusted him more than anyone else that had been in his life between when he'd come back from Pennsylvania and last night's board meeting--had already had so many vulnerabilities exposed it felt like Jet could reach into his chest and crush his heart with his bare hand if he wanted to, and that terrified him. And yet--
Nobody ever stayed. Not for long. Once Jet helped Ed figure out the what next, he would probably leave too.
He knew that was just the skeptic in his head talking, that he couldn't know for certain it would happen that way.
He wanted this time to be different, wanted to believe that someone would stay a constant in his life that actually wanted him as a person, someone other than his father and the bastard's sycophant.
Only time would tell.
Ed blinked, his eyes suddenly moist. He picked up his mug of tea, both hands still trembling, and took a drink, trying to clear his throat.
He was not going to cry. Not here, not now. Not when there were too many others he didn't trust--
"O--okay..." he said, as loud and clear and smooth as he could without his voice wavering or betraying him--which was barely above a whisper.
"Any time, Ed." Jet had to listen hard to catch Ed's voice, but heard every word - and the stuttered syllables where his breath didn't quite hold steady, the tripped-up words where his thoughts fell over each other between truthful and guarded. "Any time at all."
He took another drink, and focused on it's citrusy notes and floral aromt. The faintly warm ceramic in his hands.
Anything besides the maelstrom of emotion.
He set his mug down and stared at it's tea-stained bottom, unable to look up at Jet and torn between wishing for more and needing to get up, and get moving before he spiraled.
"So, three things to do today. Only three." Jet hummed quietly. "Checking the PO box, getting your medication, and feeding the birds. Unless you want to do more, but don't push yourself on my account."
"If you want, we can have a picnic at the same time as we feed the birds? Bring some flasks, a few different teas, get some food. Hang out, you know? Soak up some sun, stuff like that."
Three things. That's all that was planned for the day. Just three.
...Ed had no idea if he could do even that. He was still exhausted and could hardly walk. He couldn't guess if he's collapse before they got to the park and feeding the birds, or if he's even make it through the first task.
And that was nothing to day of the anxiety of adding food to the equation. They'd probably have to stop somewhere to pick something up.
"That sounds nice," he admitted. Would be, if he could make it that far.
"Wanna look through the teas? Pick ones you'll enjoy?" Jet invited. "Don't worry about the topmost shelf - everything up there is a duplicate of something lower down - but anything on the other two is fair game. Maybe grab a few - travel tins are on the bottom shelf, they're all multi-compartment so you can take a selection."
"And I'll make sure the travel mugs have strainers, so you don't have to limit yourself to teabags - hot water can go in its own flasks, means you don't have to worry at ending up with a super-blend that doesn't taste all that great if you decide to switch."
Normally Jet would just take the entire tea tin or box, and maybe leave a note if he remembered. Ed, significantly less used to being allowed to do that, would most likely not handle doing so quite as well - at minimum, limiting his tea selection to those tentatively and somewhat arbitrarily labeled as safe choices, instead of ones he actually enjoyed. So, the travel tins it was.
Ed nodded, and hesitantly pushed himself to his feet.
He froze, palms flat against the table and teeth grit against the wave of vertigo from standing so quickly.
It took him a moment to hazard shuffling back toward the cabinets to pick through the teas.
...so many options.
How many was he supposed to pick?
The white tea had been nice, and... Jet drank it too and nobody said anything, so it had to be safe?
Ed picked up the blue tin to set it aside.
Wedding Tea
...so he had remembered that correctly.
Oh no.
Did Jet--Jet definitely knew. There was no way he didn't know, didn't intentionally--
...if he put it in the stash did that... count as accepting Jet's proposal? Did he--he'd asked Jet to stay, did he think--?
Ed didn't--!
He likes Jet, but he doesn't like people like that. He's broken. Jet wouldn't want when he can't reciprocate those feelings.
Ed cautiously set the tin down. He didn't want to upset Jet by discarding it, but--
If he just kept staring at the tin, Jet would get impatient. He's just picking teas. It wasn't...
He'd just lost his life as he knew it, he wasn't ready to make a decision like that!
Ed picked up the next tea. Lavender Lemon. Tempting, he liked the floral teas, liked the way they smelled, but-- he was going to be judged for that one, Jet was going to make fun of him he--
They're doing that thing, with secret messages, aren't they? Like the Victorians did with flowers?
He didn't remember how flower language worked, how was he supposed to do that with tea?
Moroccan mint. Most likely safe....
He continued to look through the rest of the assortment. By the time he was done, he had half a dozen teas that he hoped were... hopefully safe and hopefully not giving a message that would upset Jet.
Jet finished off his own tea, watching the doors both to give Ed some privacy choosing his teas and to make sure no one came in without warning. It didn't really matter how long Ed took - there were a lot of options, and Jet knew he didn't remember what all of Ed's allergies were. While the bulk were probably safe, checking the teas to confirm Ed could drink them and they wouldn't cause problems took time.
Jet already knew which teas he wanted, anyway. Getting them wouldn't take long.
He didn't get up until Ed indicated he was done choosing, the eight-slot black travel tin Ed had apparently decided to use already at least partially filled and closed up so no one could even guess what blends were inside.
"Any you can't have?" Jet asked, picking up his own travel tin decorated with cartoonish praying mantises. "So I don't accidentally buy you a tea you can't drink." He filled one of the compartments with a black tea and cornflower blend. "That's not- I have money, I like spending it. Especially on things for family and friends, gifts for just because. I don't expect things back, gifts are gifts not obligations. But at the same time it's not really fair to you if I buy you something you don't like or can't enjoy."
A wildberry tea and a Paris Black blend joined Jet's picks, along with a chamomile and honey tea and a few spoonfuls from a jar of something that looked a lot like pure gold glitter dust. "This thing's weird. Cool patterns from the convection currents though." Jet hummed, amused, rolling the jar between his hands once he'd resealed it. "Chrysanthemum tea, but also edible glitter. It's very sparkly, and pretty nice, though it doesn't really work if you try adding it to other teas. You just get the other tea, but sparkly, and maybe a hint of undefined plant if you put in too much of this."
"Uh, only like, the ones with almond flavoring, usually," Ed responded hesitantly. "Or any other nuts, I haven't come across any with anything else that's not safe. The plain or fruit ones are safe."
Ed glanced at the shimmering gold powder. "Oh."
On any other occasion, the chrysanthemum tea would have piqued Ed's curiosity. Today, the mental image of a gold drink was a little too close to fCon's energy, and the nightmare he'd rather put as far behind him as possible.
"Alright, I'll avoid anything with nuts. Or potential nuts." Jet promised, already thinking through what was in the kitchen of the house he was living in while Lora figured out what to do with it. He could already think of a handful of things that weren't Ed-safe there, but he could probably just give them and any other unsafe food to Sam.
"I don't think I've ever actually been to a wedding where this tea was an option." Jet commented, putting the Wedding Tea tin back. "Granted, I haven't been to many weddings in general, but... seems kind of silly to me to have a tea just for special occasions like that - if you like it, and you can get it, why not have it? Being alive is a special enough occasion, life's too short to not have the things you like when you want them."
He picked a hibiscus and apple tea as his last choice, closing up the travel tin and starting to put the assorted teas away. "Let me know if you change your mind or want any of these as well as what you've already got. I'll get them down for you, it's no problem."
Jet's never... encountered Wedding Tea at a wedding? Was he overthinking the situation? Did it really... mean nothing? Or at least not what Ed thought it did? Ed didn't know if he was more confused or less.
What did it mean???
"I, ah, I've only encountered the tea twice before," Ed admitted. "First at Theo's wedding, and then... at a wedding one of the shareholders invited us to a couple years back. Maybe it shouldn't be... just for weddings, because then who knows how often you'll get it, but... that's part of the point of reserving things for special occasions-- it makes it... special? Kinda like... I dunno. ...Christmas custard, or... something like that."
He glanced at his own set of teas one last time, then back up at the cabinet. Did he want...
Or maybe he should switch out the Darjeeling for the strawberry honeybush? Or maybe the green chai?
He'd try the all in one sitting, afraid that he'd never get another chance, but didn't dare take more than he had.
Ed shook his head and closed his tin. "I think I'm done." He'd probably never make a decision otherwise.
"Mmm, yeah, I see your point. If you have something that's supposed to be special too often, it stops being special and starts being ordinary, yeah?" Jet checked. "Though I guess- I guess it also depends on how you define special."
"We tend to treat teas - and food in general - as more ordinary than special, because what's the point of leaving half a tin of tea up on the shelf for who knows how long until the next special enough occasion happens? It could go off, and then you don't even have it for the special occasion. Drink it, enjoy it, life's too short to waste it or deny yourself the treat." He shrugged. "A special occasion for us is more about the people. Getting to see each other, having fun, sharing stories or just spending time together. Mom and Dad both have large families but since they're scattered all over the place we don't see everyone often. Meeting up? That's our kind of special. The food and drink is just something you happen to have as well, since everyone needs to eat at some point."
"Alright, I'll put these back for now." Jet hummed, doing exactly that - putting the two teas that weren't Ed-safe together to one edge of a shelf, so grabbing a tea at random was less likely to be one Ed couldn't have. "Can always have different ones next time, right?"
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