( languages aren't something david's gifted with, not inherently — he knows the odd word here and there, but it's only thanks to his telepathy that he's able to understand farouk when he slips into farsi, into german, into french. ) —That's impressive, ( accompanied by a sidelong glance that confirms the sentiment's genuine, before he follows her gesture in the direction of the coffee table.
he's happy without, but he hadn't missed the way she'd spoken about sitcoms earlier, the handful she'd mentioned by name, that she had a favourite. there's no mistaking, either, the way she talks about it now, like it's just something people have. that it's part of the living-together experience. we'll watch together. well— fine. )
Yes. ( easy agreement punctuated by a beat. ) Where will the table go?
( she doesn't know if it's impressive when you soak up the language as a kid, and when you have parents who tried very hard at keeping to structures in an unstructured place. it became normal to just speak english together for about an hour or two every night, to the point where it was fun. how else would they understand all those mid-atlantic accents of black-and-white sitcoms?
at the question of the table, wanda pauses.
hm.
she motions vaguely to the side. )
It depends on the TV furniture. It cannot go on the floor, the perfect angle is— ( and then, raising her left hand, she does a general sweep at eye level (is it? the perfect angle? maybe). wanda doesn't finish that sentiment, but does lower her arm. ) Is there anything you want? For the apartment.
( he thinks of the apartment he'd had before, of the house with lenny and the rest of them; his gaze runs over the apartment, rests on the coffee table, the curtains, down at the sofa they're currently sat on. he thinks of the way that wanda had painstakingly made him make minute, imperceptible changes the morning before, and his mouth crooks into a quick expression of amused doubt. in theory, it's theirs, but david's willing to acknowledge it's more hers than it is his — the apartment might seem different, be different, but as soon as (if) he changed his mind, that'd change and wanda would be left with the same one-bedroom as before.
(if she changed her mind, too, and decided that being roommates wasn't for her—. she does pay the rent, after all.) )
My last place, we had a bureau. Bookshelves. ( his gaze flickers over the walls. ) Lamps. Paintings.
( she repeats, quietly, drawing from her language knowledge— oh, like a desk but not one? it's not a word she uses often, mostly because she can't quite pronounce it properly. just like the word genre. all these things sounds not bad. bookshelves means he'd find himself books to read, surely, and the light from lamps is much kinder than that of overhead ones which can usually be very harsh. what kinds of paintings would david get?
wanda doesn't even need to turn her head to see the expression he makes. she pushes up her hand, between them, presses the back of it to his cheek. stop canting your head at her— )
You can always say no to my suggestions.
( free will, and all that!
she drops her hand, now turning her head to him. )
( he doesn't correct her mispronunciation of bureau — it's close enough — but instead moves his hand to reach for hers and tug it away from his cheek, only she pulls away before he manages it. a brief, slightly awkward pause, and then he's shifting his weight, turning sideways to sit with his back against the arm of the couch. it's a little awkward, uneasy and uncomfortable thanks to the arm being low and david being tall, but he manages it well enough for now.
a soft mm of mild agreement, and— )
I will. ( tell her no. ) Are we betting on that? You never asking again?
( when david moves to change his sitting position, wanda loses her balance momentarily, but presses her hand down onto the cushion to brace herself. she looks at him, frowning as if affronted, because it was cozy and comfortable.
until he decided to sit all awkwardly against the couch's arm. )
I'm not betting joolies with you.
(you're broke.)
—but I could bet star stickers as a reward. ( they still have that silly prize stuff on the line. ) It doesn't count as asking if you offer, though.
( her affronted expression earns a raise of his eyebrows in a silent question, not asked because she tells him they're not betting joolies and— ) I didn't say joolies.
(he's aware he's broke, too, and while he's not — as he's said — oblivious to the importance of cash, he's still in no hurry to figure that part of his current life out. his powers make that far less complicated than he'd intimated with his response to wanda's suggestion that they steal together.
he slides his feet forward so that they're wedged in the gap between one couch cushion and the other, hands resting on his knees. star stickers. it's a thought. his eyes lift to the ceiling as if in consideration, then he shakes his head. ) No, those are separate. This will be something else. I'll let you know next time you ask.
( after david goes ahead and slides his feet in the gab between one couch cushion and the other, wanda turns so that she's sitting wholly facing him, legs crossed. she drums over the lightly lifted cushion, pressing down after a moment.
a knit of her brows, looking away. )
You're going to ask for something weird.
( she plays it so cool, shoulders hunching. meanwhile, the teacup on the arm of the couch that david had placed, wobbles a little precariously behind him. returning to their previous conversation earlier that day— )
I'm not going to ask for something weird, ( he answers, a smile in place as he speaks. his tone is soft, even, assured — what kind of weird thing would he ask for? — even as she adds, tells him that she won't do massages. that's fine, he won't do massages either. (that is weird, wanda—.)
the cup behind him wobbles and he doesn't notice, not until it starts to slide down the arm behind him and he leans forward abruptly, hand dropping from his knee to reach behind his back to catch it. it lands, cold and a little damp, in his hand, and he pulls it round to hold between his knees. ) And I'm not going to ask you for a massage.
( despite their earlier conversation.
abruptly— ) Do you think I'm weird? ( with absolutely no indication as to what he expects the answer to be. )
( once again, her joke doesn't quite land. wanda frowns, mostly at herself, even as he smiles; is it because she's too serious? not knowing when to let go of the tension in her words so that it's absolutely clear that she's messing around? should there be a tell-tale sign of a smile—
she cuts herself short from thinking that as he busies himself with saving the teacup from a broken fate.
her frown deepens as he asks her if she thinks he's weird. )
I was making a joke. ( admitting, reluctantly, that she's not very funny... ) You are weird, like I am weird. ( a shrug. ) —but you're not weird like... Marcelo from the motel is. I don't actually think you are going to be creepy or anything like that.
( she finishes the sentiment quietly. did he think that she thought he would?
drawing in some air, she aims for extra credit, ) You're nice, and you can be sweet. You're a lot easier to read sometimes, even without — you know. I can give you feedback about how you are as a roommate after a month, if you like.
(you're not weird like marcelo. he leans forward, expression fixed on her as he states, ) That's what we call a backhanded compliment. ( he might not have bothered, fully, to consider what to expect from marcelo before the door had opened that first time, but what he'd picked up from the man, the way that wanda had dealt with him — a pet — had said more than enough.
david might be many things, syd and cary and the vermillion might think of him as a certain kind of person, but he's not marcelo. he doesn't want to end the world, not on a global scale, not on an individual scale.
philly had called him nice, once upon a time; syd had called him sweet. the compliment doesn't land as it might if he didn't have the contrast of the but, but he knows (hopes, imagines) that she, wanda, doesn't mean it like that. )
—Are you saying you want to exchange report cards?
Why are you asking me questions if you're not happy with my answers?
( her expression pinches, and wanda sits up on her knees, onto the cushion that he has wedged his feet under. in this way, she grabs onto one of his knees for support, and, in that obnoxious way that siblings might play-fight in, she grapples for the tea cup that he's holding.
(the teacup hasn't done anything wrong, is innocent in all this, and yet—) )
Not report cards. ( she said it was a joke! ) We have the star stickers, but I'm starting to think you're not going to be fair about giving me any. ( she's not very balanced, as she tries to tug off his fingers from the teacup. ) You said you'd be fair.
( there's hardly any mean streak to this whole thing, her actions and words, but david ought to remember that wanda's kind of... competitive. )
( his fingers press into the porcelain of the teacup, holding it firm despite her attempts to grasp it from him. it's not delicate enough that it's going to break, and neither of them are rough enough that they're going to drop it, so while it might slip between his grip and hers, the furthest it extends is sliding down his knees. while the both of them have, somehow, fallen into something easy in the short time they've known each other — an understanding that hinges on more than either of them have really admitted to, an ease that they've circled around but for the admissions that they're different — there's an unspoken element of expecting that neither will take it outside of undetermined boundaries.
you said you'd be fair, she says, oddly petulant, unsurprisingly competitive, and david lets go, abrupt and sudden, letting her have the lion's share of ownership over the mug.
even so and in contrast— ) Fair doesn't mean letting you win.
( david lets go, abrupt and sudden. fair doesn't mean letting you win. the laws of physics say something about the force of a pull and push situation, surely, but wanda's lived experiences unfortunately hinge heavily on getting to go through situations to learn from them. such as the experience of the force of peeling away once david lets go. between the awkwardly wedged cushion and her positioning, wanda loses her balance and tips over the side of the couch.
she's quick to put her foot down, and just about grasps onto the fabric of the couch with her free hand. her socked foot, however, slides on a section of the floor that isn't covered in carpet (this would not be an issue if she wore shoes inside). the teacup escapes her hand, however—
quickly enough, it stops mid-air, surrounded in red. wanda, for her part, gave up and landed herself on the floor, onto her back, after turning to use her arm as a cushion for the short-distanced fall. one hand is raised, keeping the teacup safe, while the other one lets go of the couch cushion. the teacup, for its part, starts to slowly lower down toward her outstretched hand, until it all but lands on the tip of one of her fingers, and she can grab it properly.
(she's fine.)
then, abruptly, a laugh from her, from the floor. )
( he doesn't expect her to fall. at most, he expects her to be thrown off balance, but only to jerk backwards before stilling; that she falls to the side, that her sock slides against the floor is startling, and he half-reaches out to grab her (pointless, really, it's barely a fall—), before there are those slowly, increasingly familiar wisps of red. the teacup gets cushioned, its fall halted, while wanda hits the floor with a muted thud and a laugh.
david sits up, leaning fractionally over the side of the sofa to look down at wanda with a grin. he doesn't try to take the teacup from her, but he does hold a hand, empty, palm open, towards her for her to take so that he can help pull her back into some form of a sitting position, rather than the vague crumple she is presently.
his mouth twitches, and he glances towards the cup. )
( wanda grabs at his offered hand with her free one, pulling herself up to sit. once she's up, she will let go of his hand, turning her back to him as she carefully, gently, places the cup down on the coffee table. at a glance, they've pretty much decimated their dinner, and what's left over are but scraps that could either be tossed out or eaten after all this time has passed.
she pushes herself to stand, bent over a bit over the table just so that she can start piling plates and silverware together, tidy up a little. wanda steals a glance back at him. )
I can clean up. I don't mind. ( definitely not a test or anything to see if he'll help her or not. wanda genuinely doesn't, as she picks up the plates laden with silverware and food scraps and utensils, and moves them over to the kitchen sink. the cassette on the stereo clicks and stops. she comes back to pick up the wine bottle and the milk carton. at least— one and a half cups left in the bottle, though... with a motion to david. ) Back in the fridge?
( it might not be a test but that doesn't mean that david is willing to let wanda tidy up alone. while she manages to pick up the bulk of by virtue of being closer to the table, and though the apartment's larger than it was, it's still not large — david's standing and next to her quickly enough to be able to grab the few scant items she doesn't pick up, stepping into the kitchen and running the water for the sink just as she steps back out to pick up the remainder of the wine and milk.
at her question, he hums an affirmative, opening the fridge and holding out a hand to take one and then the other. as he closes the fridge, his attention shifts to the oven and the digital display of the clock that may or may not be right. (it's at least not flashing 00:00.) )
—Do you work tomorrow?
( if she does, he assumes she'll want an early(ish) night. )
( it's definitely weird (perhaps even fascinating), that in such a short amount of time, despite their missteps, they're constantly in rhythm with each other. it's easy enough, cleaning up, and it's so specifically mundane. part of her wonders if david couldn't just snap his fingers and get everything tidied up. the extent of his abilities are a mystery to her.
david stores the the milk and wine bottle get back in the fridge, all while wanda rolls up her sleeves and picks up at a damp towel to wipe down the coffee table. )
Yeah, I open tomorrow. ( does he know what that means, mister has-never-worked-before— ) But not until ten. ( wanda comes back to the sink, rinsing out the towel, likely doing this over david's arms as he seems to take particular ownership of the sink area. she stands to the side, one hand on the counter. ) Will you come pick up your card game?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2026-04-29 11:06 am (UTC)he's happy without, but he hadn't missed the way she'd spoken about sitcoms earlier, the handful she'd mentioned by name, that she had a favourite. there's no mistaking, either, the way she talks about it now, like it's just something people have. that it's part of the living-together experience. we'll watch together. well— fine. )
Yes. ( easy agreement punctuated by a beat. ) Where will the table go?
( not that it matters now, but it will. )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-29 12:24 pm (UTC)at the question of the table, wanda pauses.
hm.
she motions vaguely to the side. )
It depends on the TV furniture. It cannot go on the floor, the perfect angle is— ( and then, raising her left hand, she does a general sweep at eye level (is it? the perfect angle? maybe). wanda doesn't finish that sentiment, but does lower her arm. ) Is there anything you want? For the apartment.
( to be clear: ) It's not just mine anymore.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-29 12:49 pm (UTC)(if she changed her mind, too, and decided that being roommates wasn't for her—.
she does pay the rent, after all.) )
My last place, we had a bureau. Bookshelves. ( his gaze flickers over the walls. ) Lamps. Paintings.
( he cants his head, slyly— )
Do you think you'd be able to resist changing it?
no subject
Date: 2026-04-29 01:30 pm (UTC)( she repeats, quietly, drawing from her language knowledge— oh, like a desk but not one? it's not a word she uses often, mostly because she can't quite pronounce it properly. just like the word genre. all these things sounds not bad. bookshelves means he'd find himself books to read, surely, and the light from lamps is much kinder than that of overhead ones which can usually be very harsh. what kinds of paintings would david get?
wanda doesn't even need to turn her head to see the expression he makes. she pushes up her hand, between them, presses the back of it to his cheek. stop canting your head at her— )
You can always say no to my suggestions.
( free will, and all that!
she drops her hand, now turning her head to him. )
I'm never going to ask again.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-29 01:48 pm (UTC)a soft mm of mild agreement, and— )
I will. ( tell her no. ) Are we betting on that? You never asking again?
no subject
Date: 2026-04-29 02:03 pm (UTC)until he decided to sit all awkwardly against the couch's arm. )
I'm not betting joolies with you.
( you're broke. )
—but I could bet star stickers as a reward. ( they still have that silly prize stuff on the line. ) It doesn't count as asking if you offer, though.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-29 04:26 pm (UTC)( he's aware he's broke, too, and while he's not — as he's said — oblivious to the importance of cash, he's still in no hurry to figure that part of his current life out. his powers make that far less complicated than he'd intimated with his response to wanda's suggestion that they steal together.
he slides his feet forward so that they're wedged in the gap between one couch cushion and the other, hands resting on his knees. star stickers. it's a thought. his eyes lift to the ceiling as if in consideration, then he shakes his head. ) No, those are separate. This will be something else. I'll let you know next time you ask.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-29 05:03 pm (UTC)a knit of her brows, looking away. )
You're going to ask for something weird.
( she plays it so cool, shoulders hunching. meanwhile, the teacup on the arm of the couch that david had placed, wobbles a little precariously behind him. returning to their previous conversation earlier that day— )
I won't do massages.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-29 06:28 pm (UTC)the cup behind him wobbles and he doesn't notice, not until it starts to slide down the arm behind him and he leans forward abruptly, hand dropping from his knee to reach behind his back to catch it. it lands, cold and a little damp, in his hand, and he pulls it round to hold between his knees. ) And I'm not going to ask you for a massage.
( despite their earlier conversation.
abruptly— ) Do you think I'm weird? ( with absolutely no indication as to what he expects the answer to be. )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-29 06:50 pm (UTC)she cuts herself short from thinking that as he busies himself with saving the teacup from a broken fate.
her frown deepens as he asks her if she thinks he's weird. )
I was making a joke. ( admitting, reluctantly, that she's not very funny... ) You are weird, like I am weird. ( a shrug. ) —but you're not weird like... Marcelo from the motel is. I don't actually think you are going to be creepy or anything like that.
( she finishes the sentiment quietly. did he think that she thought he would?
drawing in some air, she aims for extra credit, ) You're nice, and you can be sweet. You're a lot easier to read sometimes, even without — you know. I can give you feedback about how you are as a roommate after a month, if you like.
( a pause, eyes shifting back up to him. )
That's another joke, by the way.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-29 08:11 pm (UTC)david might be many things, syd and cary and the vermillion might think of him as a certain kind of person, but he's not marcelo. he doesn't want to end the world, not on a global scale, not on an individual scale.
philly had called him nice, once upon a time; syd had called him sweet. the compliment doesn't land as it might if he didn't have the contrast of the but, but he knows (hopes, imagines) that she, wanda, doesn't mean it like that. )
—Are you saying you want to exchange report cards?
no subject
Date: 2026-04-29 08:21 pm (UTC)( her expression pinches, and wanda sits up on her knees, onto the cushion that he has wedged his feet under. in this way, she grabs onto one of his knees for support, and, in that obnoxious way that siblings might play-fight in, she grapples for the tea cup that he's holding.
(the teacup hasn't done anything wrong, is innocent in all this, and yet—) )
Not report cards. ( she said it was a joke! ) We have the star stickers, but I'm starting to think you're not going to be fair about giving me any. ( she's not very balanced, as she tries to tug off his fingers from the teacup. ) You said you'd be fair.
( there's hardly any mean streak to this whole thing, her actions and words, but david ought to remember that wanda's kind of... competitive. )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-29 08:43 pm (UTC)you said you'd be fair, she says, oddly petulant, unsurprisingly competitive, and david lets go, abrupt and sudden, letting her have the lion's share of ownership over the mug.
even so and in contrast— ) Fair doesn't mean letting you win.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-29 09:07 pm (UTC)she's quick to put her foot down, and just about grasps onto the fabric of the couch with her free hand. her socked foot, however, slides on a section of the floor that isn't covered in carpet (this would not be an issue if she wore shoes inside). the teacup escapes her hand, however—
quickly enough, it stops mid-air, surrounded in red. wanda, for her part, gave up and landed herself on the floor, onto her back, after turning to use her arm as a cushion for the short-distanced fall. one hand is raised, keeping the teacup safe, while the other one lets go of the couch cushion. the teacup, for its part, starts to slowly lower down toward her outstretched hand, until it all but lands on the tip of one of her fingers, and she can grab it properly.
(she's fine.)
then, abruptly, a laugh from her, from the floor. )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-30 02:29 pm (UTC)david sits up, leaning fractionally over the side of the sofa to look down at wanda with a grin. he doesn't try to take the teacup from her, but he does hold a hand, empty, palm open, towards her for her to take so that he can help pull her back into some form of a sitting position, rather than the vague crumple she is presently.
his mouth twitches, and he glances towards the cup. )
Nice save.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-30 05:12 pm (UTC)( wanda grabs at his offered hand with her free one, pulling herself up to sit. once she's up, she will let go of his hand, turning her back to him as she carefully, gently, places the cup down on the coffee table. at a glance, they've pretty much decimated their dinner, and what's left over are but scraps that could either be tossed out or eaten after all this time has passed.
she pushes herself to stand, bent over a bit over the table just so that she can start piling plates and silverware together, tidy up a little. wanda steals a glance back at him. )
I can clean up. I don't mind. ( definitely not a test or anything to see if he'll help her or not. wanda genuinely doesn't, as she picks up the plates laden with silverware and food scraps and utensils, and moves them over to the kitchen sink. the cassette on the stereo clicks and stops. she comes back to pick up the wine bottle and the milk carton. at least— one and a half cups left in the bottle, though... with a motion to david. ) Back in the fridge?
( he might not want to finish it just yet. )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-30 06:34 pm (UTC)at her question, he hums an affirmative, opening the fridge and holding out a hand to take one and then the other. as he closes the fridge, his attention shifts to the oven and the digital display of the clock that may or may not be right. (it's at least not flashing 00:00.) )
—Do you work tomorrow?
( if she does, he assumes she'll want an early(ish) night. )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-30 06:55 pm (UTC)david stores the the milk and wine bottle get back in the fridge, all while wanda rolls up her sleeves and picks up at a damp towel to wipe down the coffee table. )
Yeah, I open tomorrow. ( does he know what that means, mister has-never-worked-before— ) But not until ten. ( wanda comes back to the sink, rinsing out the towel, likely doing this over david's arms as he seems to take particular ownership of the sink area. she stands to the side, one hand on the counter. ) Will you come pick up your card game?