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[uber_marionettist]

Who: Dirk Strider and... well, Jane in one case, Emet in the other. And, maybe you?
What: Just some early May shenanigans at Dirk's pad, aka his Gym
When: Early May
Where: The Dirk Strider Memorial Gym, aka Saffron City

Dirk's 'home' base looks an awful lot like his other rooms. Cluttered and busy, but weirdly barren of all but the most basic furniture items, as determined by Dirk specifically--a categorisation that tends to prioritise turntables, drawing surfaces, and planks of wood set across stacks of cinderblocks over such basic essentials as 'a table that one might feasibly eat at' or 'a bed frame.' There is a couch, at least, only slightly occupied by works-in-progress, which exists entirely for the benefit of Emet and Hythlodaeus, although it theoretically might host the backsides of such esteemed company as Jane Crocker, or even Dave.

At the moment it's even more of a mess than usual, though. The floor is absolutely fucking covered in cardboard boxes and plastic tubs containing a variety of objects, such as rocks or sand or partially-inflated latex balloons. There's two different kinds of mic in the midst of it, with wires tracing back to his computer workstation.

Because of this, nearly the only Pokemon out are those that float. Fermat, Cola, and Yoto Muramasa, in other words. Bay Breeze is the exception: she lies curled in her basket at the 'head' of Dirk's expensive but terminally floor-bound mattress, her own head resting comfortably on the hardbound copy of the Epilogues.

He's seated on the floor in front of the couch, waving one hand with illustrative grandiosity as the conversation spirals from the "Moms Against Dirk" who want his Gym torn down for safety reasons to a takedown of the legitimacy of the Münchhausen trilemma.

What will you do?

Comments

Time for a VISIT

[insidescoop]

It's been a while since Carly visited. Well, not really, Carly's definitely seen Dirk and visited in that sense, but his actual gym and home-base?

Nope. Not even once if she thinks about it, and hey that's kinda sad.

In any case, since she spent some of the time after Prom sorting a few things out with folks on the mainland, she takes the chance to drop in before heading back.

"Helloooo?" She is coming in, she is knocking, she is-

"Dirk? This a good time or a bad time? I wanted to say hi in person before going back to Two Island."

She can't really react to all of this. After seeing it in smaller doses in the rocket bases, she really isn't surprised.

[uber_marionettist]

Dirk's cameras notified him to Carly's approach, but talking to himself to Bay Breeze had him distracted; he'd intended to wrap up quickly so as to be ready and at the door before Carly even set foot on his tower landing, but--

Well, that didn't happen.

He was close, though, really close to ending his point, sailing swiftly towards a final conclusion when she knocks, and almost gets three more words in before the door opens and he has no choice but to hit the proverbial brakes.

"...the difference between epistemology, ontology, and mere autodeixis--damnit. Hold that thought. Yo. I don't think there is a 'good' or 'bad' time, if we're speaking technically. You can come in, though, if that's what you're asking."

[insidescoop]

"'Yo' right back, and I guess that's a good point..." Good time, bad time...really, can there be any worse time than in the middle of a duel to the death? Probably not!

"What has you talking about the differences between ah...actually I think you cut off on that last one when I was coming in, so I should ask what the full term was before asking about differences. How've you been by the way, it looks like you've been busy."

[uber_marionettist]

Personally, he'd consider a duel to the death a conversation in its own right.

Dirk makes no effort to stand, although he does wave Carly inside--and gestures towards the couch with his arm, inviting her to actually sit instead of standing there under his collection of film-related character sketches.

"Autodeixis? That's self-referentiality. I was talking about the difference between centering the Self versus the examination of the Self or the perspective of-slash-from the Self. It's an important topic when you're me. It's a little bit off of where I started, though. Did you know there's an organised coalition of 'concerned local moms' who want this Gym torn down? How fucking entitled can you get? Hell fucking yeah I've been busy, and they think I have time to care about that?"

[insidescoop]

"AH." A pause, as she considers that. Ultimately she nods. "That makes sense then. Er...the first bit...anyway, yeesh, are they really? I mean it doesn't look the most structurally sound but I'd expect building inspectors to start making a coalition before 'local moms'..."

She may hang around Dirk too much, even in the minimal states.

Or maybe this is the consequence of her fiancé and their third gal. "It's looking great by the way- I've barely gotten ours going, we're planning on having part of it stand in as a gallery... ...the other part's more of an arena to the end sort of deal." No guesses who's got what.

hey dirk do you want a HOUSEGUEST

[cyan_maid]

[So like, who knew that actually starting to act on your plans to thwart crimes could make you feel better about personal trauma? (It can't, not really, because it's a distraction, but still.) It's with this lighter heart - though not wholly unburdened - that Jane decides to take a "wee hours of the morning" train ride over to Saffron City, and make her way up to Dirk's abode.

Yes, she'll take the goddamn stairs, he put them there for a reason.

And yes, she has cookies for you, Dirk. And all your Pokemon. It's many cookies. So will the door be answered if she knocks?]

wtf those look delicious

[uber_marionettist]

Credit where it's due--Jane doesn't even hesitate to take on the endless squared spiral of bare metal stairs. Even knowing she doesn't have to (she... does know that, right?), which makes it all the more respectable that she takes the hard way.

He contemplates just leaving the door open for her, but decides it's too presumptuous a gesture. Instead he waits until she's on the last flight before he moves towards the door--then remembers that the Epilogues are still in Bay Breeze's custody and hastily reclaims the tome from under the Rapidash's chin (earning himself an affronted look) to relocate it out of sight.

Just in time.

She knocks, he drops from the crawlspace and steps to the door, opening it.

"Aw, fuck. It's a detective. Is this where I ask you to come back with a warrant? I'm new to this genre."

THEY SOUND DELICIOUS they're orange cinnamon cookies

[cyan_maid]

[I mean, is there an obvious elevator?

Even if there is, she's taking the stairs, she doesn't fear them.]

Hoo, oh please, I'm not on the clock. Can't a lady pay a visit to a friend for completely friend-related reasons? [She presents the large wrapped tin of cookies to Dirk.] And also with cookies?

[uber_marionettist]

Would you really trust the elevator if he'd installed one?

"I'd say bribery will get you nowhere, but I'd be a fucking liar. I can smell those even through the box, holy shit."

He is kidding, at least so far as the fact that he would have let her in no matter what she had or had not brought up to his door. They do smell like whatever the pre-Sburbian idea of Christianity considered 'Heaven' though, and he's not in the vicinity of fucking around when it comes to Jane's cookies.

"I'd say sorry about the literal boxes of rocks but after all the work it took to get this shit up here, I'm not apologising for jack shit. Just try not to trip. And speaking of trips... what brings the great detective to my door in her off hours? Here I thought the city never sleeps, but here you are."

[cyan_maid]

[...She'd trust it to be some kind of Willy Wonka sort of bullshit and take her a roundabout way to the top, but yeah, Dirk could definitely build a functioning elevator. He's made robots, he could totally do elevators.]

Well, I'd gotten wind that your new base of Strider Operations was all done, so I thought it was only fitting to bring a housewarming gift, and my presence. [She will take a curious look at all his foley equipment, though.] And I will do my best not to faceplant into your various bits and bobs. Out of curiousity, could I ask if they have anything to do with that movie you're working on?

[amaure]

"Well, there are many flaws in the philosophical thoughts of mortals, and this 'Munchhausen trilemma' is no exception. The general idea is not terribly inaccurate, but oft do mortals think too simply, boxing themselves into cyclical thoughts, useless deductions, and so forth that would sooner drive one mad than allow them to arrive at any useful conclusion ere their inevitable demise. An utterly wasteful endeavor that does naught in the end."

Looks like Dirk has a partner in this takedown, but who does this surprise? Probably no one. While Dirk is sitted before the couch, Emet himself is upon it, chin resting in his gloved palm as he watches him with due interest.

"But I think we could likewise talk ourselves in circles over the shortsighted perspective of mortals and their inability to see what is plain before the likes of you or I."

He punctuates that with a smirk.

"In fact, I came here with an expressed purpose that did not include philosophical analyzation, a lover of it as I may be. Rather, I wished to make good on a promise, that is, if you're still interested in it." Being vague is part of the fun. To watch Dirk's expressionless face go through the possibilities of what it is he might mean, the subtleties lost on those who know not how to read the unreadable, but not Emet.

[uber_marionettist]

The real comedy is the suggestion that Dirk hasn't talked them both in circles about mortal attempts at philosophy and logic. It's a subject very near to his heart (and dear to his existence), but... well, honestly, when you don't know, you don't know, you know? The mortal perspective is always going to come up short... but the varied attempts are almost addictive.

He blinks, once, when Emet changes the subject--not that it's too sudden or blunt, often changing the subject with Dirk almost has to be direct and immediate--but he's not stupid, either; he knows when he's being led. He's just... not sure where. Especially when it comes from Emet.

He tilits his head backwards, looking at Emet through the gap at the top of his shades; then he lifts his brows and turns his upper body properly, leaving only one brow perfectly arched after.

His thoughts have sped up, searching relentlessly perfect recollection for (quite literally) everything that Emet has ever 'promised.' Unfortunately, the volume of related material outpaces his ability to 'sort by relevance,' so to speak. He has no fucking clue what this is about. He can only derive that its lead is (presumably?) a positive one.

"...okay. What does that mean."

[amaure]

There are so many small quirks of Dirk's that most don't notice, or perhaps, they choose not to. So many favor ignorance towards many great things they could otherwise observe, with the world, with reality, with those before them. Emet-Selch is not a man to know such folly, and to observe Dirk is ever a delight, even for such minor things--like his bodily expressions.

The way he chooses to engage with others, what he says with his actions versus his words, it in itself is a personal language, something of unique character that is Dirk's and Dirk's alone. Every time, Emet finds himself so enraptured and endeared by it, that he nearly forgets himself for the moment.

Such is plain as he smiles down at Dirk, nearly missing his response. He's quick, however, and the pause seems more like an intentional means to draw out the suspense, than Emet allowing himself to bask in how besotted he is with the younger immortal.

"I mean exactly what I said. I made you a promise some many moons ago, and it has been long enough that I have not completed it." As he speaks, he shifts so that he can stand from the couch without stepping on or over Dirk. Turning only enough to peer back at him, as if to invite him to follow.

He quirks an eyebrow.

"Tell me, is your roof suited for combat?"

[uber_marionettist]

Dirk can't completely begrudge Emet his use of dramatic timing, that extra beat of anticipation before the reveal. He's the same way himself, and he knows it. That only goes so far, though. If Emet takes longer than a second or two, he's ready to voice a complaint.

It doesn't come to that, obviously.

Of course it doesn't.

Emet's sense for these things is, no exaggeration, impeccable. Dirk is pretty sure he could learn a thing or two from him--but not right now, because Emet is being only barely less cryptic than before. Who actually says 'many moons' unironically? He means months ago, which narrows it down... Dirk's brows furrow over his shades as Emet rises, stepping around him. He turns to watch him with one palm planted on the ground, almost like he's ready to follow Emet--but he doesn't. Not until Emet asks about his roof. At which point he stands up so fast he could almost be seen falling all over himself in his haste.

He doesn't, to be clear. He could have, though.

"Are you joking? You'd better not be joking."

There's no way he's misreading this, right? This is as straightforward as it gets. There's no other way to read it.

"One, any roof is suited for combat if you want it to be. Two, you know damn well what my roof looks like."

Emet's choice to Fly to the top is completely predictable of him, but there is no denying its convenience for scoping out the top of his Princely tower. Flat, sunbaked concrete. A metal lattice mast tower. No safety railings.

"I can't believe you let me just sit there for how many hours? Just running my yap, talking."

[amaure]

He says nothing as Dirk processes what all this means, which doesn't take too terribly long, and so his silence does not either. The question was less of one than merely a means to express his intentions in a clear, yet indirect way. Ever is it like Dirk to answer a question he well knows doesn't need it, but that too is part of his charm.

Finally, when he does speak, it is only in response to the last bit of Dirk's tirade.

"Ever am I one to enjoy mental foreplay, you will simply have to forgive me." It's frank, but playfully dismissive. With a sweeping gesture of his hand, he steps aside for Dirk to lead.

"Pray, lead the way. I wish not to deny you any longer."

[hythlodaeus]

Hythlodaeus knocks on Dirk's door at the expected time on the expected day. It would be fun to catch him by surprise, but he had responseggbilities to handle and could only afford to waste time a lot of the time instead of all the time. He's dressed a touch eccentrically, mainly by the Moms Against Dirk shirt pulled over his usual attire. They didn't have his size exactly, but that did not affect his decision to wear it.

He has luggage this time, though he doesn't directly call attention to it as he steps carefully over to the fridge to restock it. He manages to make his way over to Dirk, his smug grin growing as he reaches behind his ear to produce a Love Ball.

"I've brought you a new friend."

[uber_marionettist]

Dirk isn't surprised by Hythlodaeus' choice of attire. Mostly. He is a little surprised. Mostly he's surprised it hasn't popped at the seams and blown away in the high winds that Saffron's skyheights are being buffeted by today.

He watches Hythlodaeus load his fridge up in silence, wearing an impassive mien that conceals the somewhat awkward flutter of conflicted emotion--consternation, partially, at how consistently Hythlodaeus does this, pre-mixing Dirk's preferred breakfast concoctions and stocking him with individually labelled bottles, but never really saying anything about it. It feels illicit, somehow.

The silence can be a bit tense, though. He's almost (almost) relieved that Hythlodaeus gives him something else to focus on.

"A new friend," he parrots back, deadpan, after a beat of confusion.

[hythlodaeus]

"You have room in your heart, surely, for one more little dragon?" he releases the creature with a button press, letting the freshly hatched friend tumble into Dirk's lap.

He carefully moves to take a seat on the designated surface to watch as it blinks up at him with that bright pink heart between its eyes.

He stretches out as much as he can, shirt straining against his pectorals.

[uber_marionettist]

"You couldn't wait until he wasn't in my lap to ask me?" It's completely rhetorical; Dirk is certain Hythlodaeus made a conscious choice to pose that question when and how he did. Which is why he glances down at the little dragon sitting on his thighs and taps its huge, heart-shaped face scale with a couple of fingers.

"No offence."

Oh, Jesus. He catches sight of Hythlodaeus stretching, and it's one of those sights that he can't quite uncatch, not right away. Hythlodaeus' proportions often make him look a lot more wiry than he really is; his Amaurotine taste for wizard robes reinforces the illusion. This the explicit opposite of that.

It's gives the corny line Hythlodaeus led with a run for its money, even if it can't eclipse it.

"Jesus. Put some clothes on."

[hythlodaeus]

The Jangmo-o seems surprised by the tapping on its heart-shaped scale, and also a little offended. He hops out of his lap and scampers away to find something to chew on.

"That isn't what you usually say to me. But if this is too scandalous for you, I can change back."

Though he has to take the shirt he's shrink wrapped himself into first. And he does have to cross his arms to grab the hem and lift and peel it off, shimmying carefully to not bust a seam. He lays the shirt over the back of the couch and unzips the luggage just enough to plunge a hand in and retrieve a much more modestly cut shirt. Really, the drape is more bag-like than shirt-like, but is Dirk going to complain?

"The dragon is just a playmate for Kermit. I see you have your hands quite full as it is. And to that I have the real surprise- I just managed to finish killing the rest of the mildew on this last night."

He begins pulling a corner of the faux fur through the hole like the world's worst kleenex.

"I found it in a garage sale from a neighboring property. They didn't even know they had it really, they thought it was a roll of carpeting. It has a few mysterious stains, but that shouldn't be a problem."

[sweetbrohellayiff]

Dave looks up at the tower early in the morning, the Saturday of the weird weekend. He had done this weeks before, just standing here and looking up, weeks ago. He knew he could just fly up. But it seemed wrong to. With aerodactyl then and by his own means now.

Even if it took hours, it was fine. He could... just roll it back. Time here was safe, segmented from the natural flow. No actual way to fuck it up. He'd better be here. He begins the march up, undaunted. At least there wasn't any lava at the bottom or Bro at the top.

About halfway up he begins to regret this, but his legs haven't gotten any weaker for all the walking he's done lately. He manages to avoid the myriad dangers, the cause of the presence of the anti-Dirk club making itself eminently clear. He reaches the top, wondering if he should knock or text.

He hadn't even confirmed that he was here. Fuck it, he knocks.

[uber_marionettist]

Dirk has been busy enough lately (and the adolescent congregations on his stairs so frequent) that he checks his cameras only intermittently. Instead, he's set them up to notify him in various ways, which he changes according to his present needs. Whether it comes through his gear or his desktop or his laptop, though, it's always in the form of a push notification popup with a paired auditory cue, styled in a manner reminiscent of a specific phenomenon unique to a particular webcomic's era of active upd8s.

Unlike the Homestuck Upd8er, though, Dirk has a couple of unique notification settings. One of them is for arrivals via sky. Another identifies when a person is wearing aviator-style sunglasses. He's learned not to get too excited when that one goes off, because it's actually a pretty common accessory to wear outdoors, especially if you're planning on scaling dozens and dozens of flights of stairs directly toward the fucking sun.

Tapping the upd8 notification immediately brings up the camera(s) currently detecting related movement, so it doesn't really take a lot of time for him to identify Dave. Not that any of this was actually necessary today. He already knows Dave is here. He also knows Dave has chosen to take the stairs, and why.

He just hadn't bothered to silence the program, so it goes off.

Waiting for Dave feels interminable, though. Time isn't real but the wait still exists; by the time Dave is actually at his door, he's so far past ready for this to get to the fucking point already that he's laying on the floor, marinating in his own hypercognitive metareality between a box of rocks and a kitty litter tub full of corn starch.

Finally, Dave reaches the door, and Dirk gets up and walks to his side of it. He waits for Dave to knock, and then he opens it. He doesn't bother to wait between those two things.

Dave would have seen the cameras.

"I considered texting you on your way up, but I didn't want to break your momentum. Come on in."

[sweetbrohellayiff]

He had seen the cameras, of course. His radar for them had not dimmed even with the passage of time. Time. Was this a waste of time, he wondered, as the door opened.

Only one way to find out. If this sucked badly enough, he could just roll it back and go get a McFlurry instead.

"I appreciate it. When a man starts going up some stairs he's gotta just... Finish it. Or risk falling down all of them I guess. Real do or die scenario you've got for the tykes. The shirts they have down there are pretty hideous, so I'm considering getting a few. Do those actually fund anything you think, or are one of those moms getting filthy fuckin' rich?"

[uber_marionettist]

"It funds more signage, apparently. I joined their email webgroup whatever, my name is Moxie Mae and I have two kids who aren't quite old enough to begin their Pokemon journeys, but I'm deeply toubled by the recent trend in gym construction, not to mention the sharp uptick in high profile crimes by Team Rocket. I've developed a theory they're connected. Of course, I've written to Lance and the local Jennies multiple times about these issues, but nothing's been done about either. Watch your step, though, I didn't design this place to house two dozen boxes of foley materials so I've had to get creative."

Dirk talks while he leads Dave towards the couch, which is both box-free and puppet-free. He's not stupid, he knows that there's some kind of reason Dave is here besides Dirk's own company, but there's no rush. Between the two of them, they have (almost) all the time in the world.

[sweetbrohellayiff]

"Oh damn, and they haven't gotten suspicious that you haven't shown up yet? Are you a high powered careerwoman, too busy for their shit? Or are they just happy for the artificial fluff to their facebook group? What happens when they do a real call to arms and block your stairs with their bodies? You're gonna have to run around playing both parts, forgetting pieces of the costume or leaving them on in exponentially hilarious situations."

He allows his attention to be drawn to the shit all over the place. Oh yeah, it was weirder different shit huh? He was used to places being a fucking mess, so he didn't take stock of it right away. It could have been robot chunks or puppets or whatever. But he notes the distinct lack of puppets in the singular oasis that is the couch.

"Foley stuff, huh?" He has no trouble stepping around it all, having quite a lot of practice with it over the years. Jade never quite got neater, after all. "You got about ten thousand square feet right under here. Or a couple more planks of wood and cinderblocks and you got yourself a shelf or two. Not that I'm actually criticizing, that's not even worth talking about when it sounds like you have a movie in the works."