{ past history } i'm gonna avoid the cliché, i'm gonna suspend my senses

[polluxburning]

'Curiosity' is what Wes calls it, and it's fair enough, right? Curiosity killed the cat. Wes has always been curious, wanting to go over the next hill and have a look under the rock on the other side. If a thought crosses his mind it's an idea and if it's an idea then it's a good one, or at least worth exploring, and that is why Wesley Pollux Lode

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[castorburning]

Tad is having a confusing evening. It started out all right; he woke up, rolled over, went back to sleep, which is always how his best evenings start (Tad loves to sleep more than he loves anything in the world; sleep is this cool soft thing he can sink his teeth into, can taste like chamomille on a hangover), but eventually he was jerked somewhat rudely into consciousness by his stomach, which was singularly distressed at its state of emptiness

[polluxburning]

Wishing very sincerely that he hadn't put his cigarette out - that the breeze up here ('breeze') would let him light another one, that he'd thought to bring the packet out at all (although fuck trying to roll one) - Wes squints down at nothing in particular as he absorbs this information. "Where'd you have 'em last?"

Actually, as he listens closer, it doesn't sound like Tad is at home. That sounds more like outside noises (this is exactly how he thinks of it), which means... "Hey, mate, did you lose the shoes or did the shoes lose you? Where are you?"

Asking questions of Tad is sort of like playing Russian Roulette with a water pistol full of vodka (which is a deeply imperfect metaphor that Wes is nevertheless very, very proud of for inventing on his own), but he has had plenty of time to learn how to navigate their conversations and it might take a while, but sooner or later he'll get something he can work with.

(He has almost forgotten where he is. Almost.)