So How Are Things?

Who: Doc and Seph
When: evening
Where: the garage

Another quiet day. It amused Seph, in a vague kind of way, that no matter what mundane things went on in a day, if it lacked supernatural badness? It was quiet. His shadowy follower was still there, pasted to whatever wall or object was closest. There wasn't any movement, just it's presence, watching. That sense of eyes on him was most certainly there, though they lacked any malevolence that he could pick up. Or create, he reminded himself, because he knew it was a hallucination. It was just hard to think that it didn't have any validity when it was his constant companion.

He was taking the lull as an opportunity to try and build some of his strength back up. He'd hung out with Hannah earlier, then come back to the house to lift some weight. Almost dying and being laid up in bed for so long had had an alarming effect on his muscle tone. But Seph was careful not to push himself too hard, very aware that the bandaid on his forearm would prevent him from feeling it if he hurt something. Because he wasn't keen on taking that fucker off. Except with Syn the other day, but that had been something completely different.

So after a slow and light workout, Seph emerged from the basement in shorts and a t-shirt. He headed to the fridge and pulled out a water bottle, before it really sank in that he was hearing all kinds of hammering coming from the garage. Frowning in a curious sort of way, he headed to that door and opened it, sticking his head in to have a look around.

Sometimes, plans got interrupted. Doc was used to that fact, it was one of the truisms his universe was built on. Plans were what you busied yourself with until life involved itself, to the elder willworker. Of course, the interruption passed in time. The shadows were gone, and with them the house full of 'guests' Doc had helped shelter. Luckily they'd all gotten through the crisis relatively unharmed, even his own shallow wounds were largely healed already.

Doc wished he could've done more for them all though, wanted to help Eddie with his problems, to try and smooth things over with Eva or do more than check out Kurt's healing leg. But as always, there were limits to what he could or even should do. And lately? He was trying hard to keep that lesson close, which meant distractions. Distractions, in turn, meant resuming plans that had fallen to the wayside.

Those plans had been for the garage; a long-reaching goal to create workspace for himself again. Doc had only gotten a small start before things had gone sour, but today? Well, he'd made progress. The boxes he'd stacked up days prior had been hauled inside, stuffed away in one corner of the basement. The cheap paneling had largely been pried free, to be replaced later. And now? Now was insulation. Good insulation would soundproof the place, muffle the sounds of a forge or a hammer and anvil. Tossing aside a wad of the old padding, Doc wiped his forearm across his brow with a grunt, reclaiming his hammer and moving onto one of the few remaining sections of wall panels that remained.

Seph saw that it was Doc and smirked faintly. It was like the old man to start up a remodeling project days after they survived some real bullshit. He stepped down into the garage, sipping on his water as he did so, and walked up to be a few feet behind Doc, eyeing what he was doing. Tearing the wall down for some reason. It was times like these that he wished his voice was back. Which was pretty well any time he wanted to communicate with anybody besides Synnove. He could make some vocal noise now, but it was too quiet and gravely to be much good. As it was, he just stood and watched for a minute, the shadow in his peripheral vision sliding up to settle on the wall to his right.

It took a moment as Doc worked, yanking back with the hammer's claw to wrench nails loose, before the feeling settled in his mind. It wasn't quite a sixth sense, the low feeling of being watched, but it was reliable enough to have kept him alive more than once in his years spent doing much more dangerous work. "Feel free to grab a hammer," Doc said with his back to Seph, letting his own hang in his grip as he turned around, wiping his forearm across his brow again. The work was the closest release for his misgivings he'd had in a while; physical and constant, a chance to burn off energy that would otherwise keep fueling his concerns over so many aspects of his life with the twins here.

He had to wonder if Doc somehow had really known that it was him standing there, or if he would've extended the 'make yourself useful' offer to Syn as well. Either way, he set the bottle down and walked a few feet off to grab a hammer off of the worktable. Then came back and sized up a panel. He found a seam and wedged the claw in, setting to work. It was probably going to be slow work, but any activity was probably good for him. His wound was getting to the point where it itched like hell all the time -- even though it didn't hurt -- and he tried to keep his hands busy.

Doc's smile was small and easy as he stepped in to work with Seph, popping his hammer along the top edge to work the wooden panel free faster. He aimed little glances over as they both set to work, eyeballing the red skin still hinting at the edges of Seph's stitches. "Looks like the healing's faster every day," he commented, catching a loose nail as it fell from the wood and pocketing it for later. "Still tender though, I'm guessing. We'll have to see how much scarring we can minimize."

Seph nodded a bit, and pulled the wood farther away from the wall. He tugged on it, and wished that he could just like ... absorb the knowledge of sign language or something. Or at least extend his telepathy outward if he wanted to. He didn't mind the possibility of scars, really, even though they were going to be garish and huge. He just wanted to talk again. He paused to look at Doc and make a scratching motion over the wound, pulling an 'ugh' kind of face to indicated that it itched like a sonofabitch.

Doc chuckled softly, nodding in understanding. "Neck tissue's sensitive, stitching thread's a little rough. We've got some lotion that might help," he offered, digging his hammer back into the wood. "And a few more days? I think we can take the stitches out if you promise to keep taking it easy. And if things come loose? Well, there's always crazy glue." The look on his face was only half-serious; the glue was designed for that exact use, after all. Almost as if he could read Seph's mind, Doc smirked a touch more as he yanked the top edge free. "Not that I want you to have to use it, but maybe we should make sure you know some ASL, just in case."

It took him a second to remember what that was exactly, then nodded. American Sign Language, right. He swallowed and paused the work with the hammer, looking concentrated for a second. He made a much vocal noise as he could muster, which was sort of a rasp that choked a little on the end. It was uncomfortable enough to make him think that it would hurt if he didn't have the bandaid on. Seph then shook his head and started in with the hammer again, yanking with a bit more frustration.

"Right, well, we'll just put it on the list of things we can work on based for your tolerance for old know-it-alls," Doc joked, gingerly reaching between protruding nails to work on pulling the wood free as Seph pried the last edges away. He didn't comment on the little snap of wood as Seph's frustration splintered one corner, Doc got how maddening healing could be. Really, he probably didn't understand it to Seph's extent; being unable to speak, bedridden for days, technically dying... it was a lot to shoulder. Hauling the panel free and laying it down, Doc slung his hammer through a belt loop and dug out his cigarettes. "Let's take five, the monkey's on my back again," he explained, lighting up.

Seph stepped away from the wall and moved to grab his water again. He set the hammer aside and leaned against the messy workbench. He'd left his notebook somewhere, but spotted a stray piece of paper and a carpenter pencil. He took those up too and jotted a note before handing it over to Doc. You know it? he wanted to know. Though it wouldn't really surprise him, he hadn't ever had occasion to learn that Doc knew sign language.

He gave a slight nod in response, pulling deep for his first lungful of smoke. "Picked it up when I was pretty young," Doc explained, "First few years of your mom and I working together. There was this lady back in Chicago, street contact, but she was mute. So at first I always did the notepad thing when I went to see her. Eventually? She had to stick with us for a bit, and I wanted to make sure I could communicate with her in a pinch." Idly, as he smoked, Doc reached between the studs of the garage wall to seize the old insulation and yank a fistful free; he'd be putting in new stuff soon anyway. "I also know older SWAT hand code, I'm sure they've updated over time though. That'd be more of something for you and Syn to learn, but I don't think the two of you need it." They could already communicate just fine without words, after all.

Well that was a good resource, at least. He probably really should start thinking about that kind of shit, especially considering what they'd all just been through. And likely would go through again. Writing notes wasn't always going to work, and he would need to communicate if he and Syn were -- gods forbid -- separated for whatever reason. He nodded a bit, and wrote some more on the page. Doesn't mean we won't need it with other people. Might as well. Always need to be prepared, this place isn't letting up. He showed it to Doc and turned his thoughts firmly away from the bits of detail from what he and his sister had been up to recently.

Doc's brow lined as he read the note, and eventually he nodded in agreement. "Let me know when you have time and we'll get on it. I can even draw up a primer or two if you like," he said, stretching to one side to ash his cigarette into an old coffee can. He sighed thoughtfully, looking around the garage and wondering just how much he'd do in here that was devoted to surviving this place. "Maybe it's weird of me to offer, I know we have an understanding that wouldn't exactly translate to other people... if your friends need to get ready, I'm willing to help." He was trying every day to understand the way his role was changing; no direct action could very well mean that he was supposed to teach, to train the people who could fight.

Friends? Seph tried to think if he had any friends who would need to take Doc up on that offer. There was Hannah, but she seemed to have things locked down for herself pretty well. Eddie ... was sort of a friend. And probably needed help. Maybe there was one, at least. Don't have a lot of friends who need anything, he wrote down. But I'll keep it in mind. met a girl who knew lots about the shadows & shit, she's a fade, but she seems to know what she's doing, so I think she's ok. He showed the paper to Doc with a faint smile. Syn probably knew more people than he did; she tended to be the more social of the two of them.

"Just say the word, I'll be here," Doc reiterated with a mirror of Seph's little smile. In that regard, he was glad for the change in his existence; there was more time to be around for the twins and more incentive to keep himself appraised of what they were up to. If he couldn't just smite problems, it made sense to try and anticipate them before they became problems. "Beyond that and the throat... anything you think I should know?" Doc asked gently, giving Seph a thoughtful look. He didn't want to repeat past mistakes or handle Seph like he was fragile because of his problems, so he may as well just ask if things had been okay lately.

The mute elemental looked at Doc thoughtfully for a moment. Anything he should know? Well ... there were probably things he'd want to know, but that wasn't exactly a 'should'. Not to Seph, anyway. His blue eyes ticked to one side, to the shadow on the wall, just plastered there as serenely as ever. He looked at it a moment, then went back to his scrap paper. Gathered a new friend. Looks like 1 of the shadow-guys, only flatter. Dunno whats up w/ that yet, but if you see me staring @ something, probably it. There, that counted, right? Keeping the old man abreast of things? Of his Crazy? Yeah.

He took in that new information, mentally filing it away with the other oddities and irregularities he'd seen from Seph over the years, and nodded slightly. "Just be prepared for me to bother you now and then and make sure everything's alright," Doc cautioned, giving a little sigh as he reclaimed his hammer and set his gaze on the last remaining panel that needed removing. "I'll finish this up, should only take a minute. Why don't you head on in and figure out dinner plans with Syn? My wallet's in my coat if you two feel like ordering out, you know I'll eat most anything," he said, moving over and wedging the claw of the hammer behind wood.

Seph considered offering to continue to help, even though there wasn't much left, and his workout kind of had him tired. As it was, he just nodded and stood up, crumpling up the paper he'd been using to communicate and tossing toward the trash can. The pencil, however, he tucked behind his ear. It'd go well in the stash of writing utensils he kept in his sock drawer. He headed out of the garage, already mentally asking Syn if she wanted anything to eat.