dexter ain't shit; richard, delilah, welcome to xana

[soursanguine]

For as mundane as most of their world seems to be, that hasn't stopped Richard and Delilah Vasko from having some problems with the doors in their house. Specifically, the closet door of Richard's Workroom, which is really the single most inconvenient door to open to a place it shouldn't.

...Other than the bathroom door, really.

Comments

[fireburned]

He's not a local by any means, but Harvestman is lurking around the corners of Xanadu, looking for something he can't find at home, looking for something he know he won't find here - and he's just close enough to hear bits and pieces of their conversation.

His clothes are pretty ragged, but neither the clothes nor himself is as dirty as he sometimes has a preference for being. He doesn't look homeless, in other words, due to the sheer fact that he isn't homeless. For now.

"Xanadu." He's standing a few feet away, hands in pockets and shoulders hunched, making his short height seem shorter. "You're in Xanadu."

[soursanguine]

Head whipping at the sound of the voice, Richard trains his gaze on the ragged man and takes him in. Disheveled, maybe, but as conscious and stuck up about these things as Richard is, at least the man is clean. He's known a thousand artists who are too scattered to give a damn about their appearance, so as many things as he might initially judge an individual on, that's not one of them. Instead, he offers a smile. "Xanadu? You don't say."

Delilah, however, can't be bothered to pay attention to such superficial judgments and grins broadly to the man. "Hello, sir! So are you from around here, then? Or-" The girl falters and looks around, asking, "...is anybody from around here? Or is this more one of those 'passing through' type places? Seems like a big place!" She maintains her smile to Harvestman, dark eyes bright with the hope that he'll get what she's on about.

Asking the obvious questions could draw attention, after all--especially if it's not normal for half of one's house to apparently be located in the place.

[fireburned]

He draws back at both responses - both the whip-around and smile, and the overly brightness of the woman. That was just a little too much nonjudgmental enthusiasm for his taste.

"I reckon there are some locals, but most folks I know are just passing through. There's an inn over there - " He jerks his head in one direction, keeping his hands in his pockets. "A bar most folks hang out down that way, and question-and-answer type of place down that way... Whatever you're in for, really."

[soursanguine]

Delilah is nothing but a big pile of nonjudgmental enthusiasm--she has to be, with a husband like hers, and nods, looking towards the inn. "I see...so you're not from around here either, then? Um- do people always end up coming here in...unusual ways?"

Her husband gives her a little look of warning but she only maintains her little smile and adds to Harvestman, "I'm Delilah, by the way. And this is my husband, Richard!"

Harvestman gets a polite nod from him before he glances around and takes a drag from his cigarette. "I would imagine it has whatever you're looking for, place seems huge."

[campjesus]

Small multiverse.

She's been coming to Xana for a while to scrounge up money -- not necessarily in the usual way, because it can be difficult to get people to pay for that in the Nexus and she's not really comfortable marketing the single aspect that makes her actually stand out. She's mostly been panhandling, which is easy with how scruffy she looks these days.

When she sees two familiar faces, she tucks the sign ("Feed my broke ass, will ya?" -- Xanadu citizens respond well to sassy urchins) behind her back and waves frantically.

"Oh, hi! I didn't know y'all came here too." It's not terribly hard to figure out who she is; the voice is identical, low for a girl, with a hoarseness to it that, with the Southern accent she's never quite been able to mask, makes her sound more rustic than she probably ever wanted.

[soursanguine]

Upon noting one person who can only be a certain other individual, Delilah stares up at Richard with a mile-wide grin. "I know that voice

[campjesus]

Her reaction -- a quick, nearly violent jerk back -- is instant and reflexive, but not very surprising for someone who seems so avoidant of physical contact (strangely, while still managing to fail to wear pants on a regular basis.)

If the scrutiny makes her uncomfortable, she masks it behind a sort of sheepish shrug and pleasant look on her face that says oh, well, sometimes you freak out a little when people try to touch you, what can ya do. The clothes she's wearing are ... not her style. At all. They're men's clothes that are too long and too baggy, nothing is black, and they look like, although she washed them before she wore them, someone (Harvestman) did something so unspeakable to them that no amount of OxyClean will ever make them look like they did out of the factory. "Aight. I had you pegged for newbies. I'm a bit out of the loop though, there's all kinds of new people coming in I oughta know that I don't, it's a problem." ... in that clearly Brody is required to know everyone everywhere and be all up in their business at

[soursanguine]

Richard gives Brody a look that could very nearly pass for, if not sympathetic, then "vaguely understanding" in response to her reaction. Delilah gets a free pass because, well, it's Delilah--but fuck most of the rest of the world if he's not expecting said contact.

"Yeah," Delilah says with an apologetic smile, looking briefly up and down the street, "it seems like they've got an awful lot of things to do and places to go here! It's a huge place."

Richard blinks at the 'alien tentacle monster' joke and makes a (mental) pair of additions to his Xana-to-do list: security, local drugs. Sometimes a bit of work is in order to make things more acceptable. Meanwhile, Delilah shakes her head. "We don't have one yet, we just met a nice gentleman called Harvestman who told us about them and showed us his