Upstairs

Mitch observed and considered the craftwork of the carousel intently, holding it closer to his eyes and inspecting the small moving parts that he could make out on the structure. He pushed his bifocals closer to his eyes with one hand while bracing the carousel with the other between his hand and his arm. It was certainly impressive from a mechanical perspective, and Mitch could see that very plain, but as soon as he inspected the whole creation as a whole, it became clear to him just how much passion had gone into each part contributing to the summation. Of course, there was evidence of age; some of the hinges were a bit tight and the gears inside made some slight noise, but that was more or less unavoidable without stripping the entire thing, which was a more or less unnecessary project.

He could feel the engraving on the bottom of the base, and he lifted the carousel up to inspect it. "1940, eh?" He finally said after inspecting it in mostly silence. "He's been doing this for a while. It's quite a fascinating piece of work." He brought the carousel back down and offered it back to Ivy. "Is this your favorite thing he's made?"

All while this was going, he could hear the faintest commotion from the garden, and Mitch could feel a slight shiver in his spine. Well, Ikanov was definitely home, almost pathetically under the influence, and it seems like he's met Dark. Lord only knows what kind of ugly conflict was brewing at that moment, but Mitch tried not to pay any mind to it, hoping the gentle, plucking tune of the carousel masked it.
 
Ivy took it back, holding it very carefully, "Well, I really like this one, because it plays music and it moves, but I also really like the ferris wheel. And I like the little versions of our family Baba made, but I think, um..." She thought for a few moments, because nobody had ever asked her about what her favourite was. And he had made so much. They couldn't even bring all of it when they moved, and now a bunch of it was at her Uncle's house, "I think my favourite is my doll with two heads, Minnie and Nannie, but Sandra M. at my school broke it because she thought it was ugly. She didn't like me much. She liked to break a bunch of my toys."

She thought she heard her father's voice distantly, and she half turned around, but she guessed it made sense he would be talking to other people. Anyway, she couldn't make out the words, "But, now I get to go to a new school, and Baba said this one will be better."
 
Mitch listened to Ivy with the solemnity of a private investigator, as if he were listening to her describe a crime. "I know people like Sandra," Mitch said, his right hand scratching his chin. "They see things that bring others joy, and they get frustrated because they can't get that same joy." He frowned. "It's sad how they choose to behave that way, but you can't always fix those who have to take happiness away from others to make everyone feel the way they do."

Okay, so maybe a schoolyard rivalry doesn't need to be analyzed quite this thoroughly, but it felt like the right thing to say. "I think the new doll is going to be really cool. I also think you'll find some new people that will appreciate the things you have the way that they should."
 
"Yeah... My mom always said those kinda people are just too boring to understand anything outside of what they decided is normal, and that's why they don't like me or my toys," Ivy replied, "but Mama and Baba, they used to work in a carnival, 'cept it burned down, so they had to get a house. That's why Baba has worked so hard to make his wooden one. But that's why they don't care about normal. Jady--my grandfather--doesn't like it, though. But I've only met him a few times."

She looked at the carousel again, and thought she better put it away, "I'm really excited for my new doll. The third eye sees ghosts, you know."
 
Mitch nodded, a faint, somewhat sad smile upon his lips. "Your mother's quite wise, it sounds. Restricting yourself to what's normal just takes out all of the fun there is in life." He really didn't know what to do with himself. Should he be going to sit back down? Should he be in the same room as her? It's as if he was talking into an alternate universe. He wasn't that high, right? He only took three hits. Maybe this is just weird.

Mitch hummed at the description of the doll with a tone of intrigue. "What kind of ghosts can it see? Old-timey ones like from history?" He asked with a pang of curiosity. The idea of a third eye was a particularly resonant thing with him; especially as he was discovering -- or at least trying to understand -- his own spirituality.
 
Ivy nodded, "She was the best... I miss her a lot... but, it's okay, because she's not sick anymore, and now she can see me," she smiled up at Mitch, but it was clearly strained, "and my doll will be able to see her. Because ghosts are ghosts. That's what her job was, you know, talking to ghosts. And seeing the future. We had a special room in our house people would visit her in. And, when she died, Baba and I had to cover all the mirrors."

She looked past Mitch at the sky. It must be starting to get late, and she still had a bedtime. Or, she thought she probably did. Who knew anymore?

"I'm going to go find my dad," she said at last, "you should ask him for help with your box, Mister. Because it's good to ask for help."
 
Mitch's sad smile was still there, because otherwise he would probably just look sad. "That'll be a very handy doll, then. I'm sure she's been waiting to see you again." Jesus, he had no idea what to say to a child about their dead parents. He didn't even know how to deal with his own parents. "I'll be sure to ask your dad for advice with it. You two should get some sleep, though, I can tell it's been a long day for the both of you. I hope you both have a good night."

Mitch awkwardly walked back over to his chair, where his cigarette had finally smoldered out on the railing. He sat back down with a deep sigh. He grabbed his Zippo and lit the burnt tip of the cigarette and took a long, dense drag, held it in his lungs, and slowly exhaled. Maybe it's now that he could finally get some time to himself, just to put himself at ease and relax with no interruptions.
 
"See me for the first time," Ivy corrected, and then returned to her bedroom, and carefully put the carousel back where it belonged... after watching the horses go around one last time. Then she reached into one of the tents, and picked up the little wooden version of her mother, and set her in front of the box, beside the picture. That was better.

Then, she left the bedroom one last time, and went downstairs to try to find her father.
 
Mitch did get some time, maybe he should have been more specific, though. Because eventually he heard the door to the terrace creak ever so slightly and open. Through it came a tired looking Ikanov partially wrapped in a blanket. His hair was messy and wet, and he just came in quietly without comment and sat on the floor in front of Mitch. He had a feeling of nausea and déjà vu when he did.

Truth be told he wasn't expecting to find anyone. He had had intentions of just coming out for a moment and then snoozing off on the nearest couch.

Ikanov brought his knees up and hugged them close to his chest, staring up at Mitch. But he was still trying to think of something to say.
 
Ah, okay, so this is how the night is going to go. Mitch watched in silence as Ikanov stumbled out onto the terrace and sat down in front of him. He would be surprised, but this wasn't exactly the first time he saw Ikanov in this state. Mitch pulled the wooden case back over to himself by his foot and lifted it up to his lap, as he had finished his first cigarette. He unlatched the case and fidgeted with the hidden latch, taking care not to show the mechanism to the messy-haired drunk. The spring-load triggered properly this time, and the case swung open, the lid slowing at the top of its open with an installed hydraulic.

"I heard you met Dark. You two get along alright?" Mitch asked casually, making a point not to make a big deal of his presence. Mitch grabbed two more pre-rolled cigarettes from the inside of the case -- the last two before he had to roll some more -- and offered one to Abel. He would light it if he were to accept it. Otherwise, he took his own and lit the tip of the joint and took another drag. At this point, Mitch felt very calm, a peaceful cloud spreading through his cerebrum and his joints going comfortably slack.
 
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The albino watched Mitch mess around with his case. He didn't see how he opened it, but he thought it looked cool. Nice project, all things considered. He just watched in silence until Mitch talked, and then gave him a -Thats a stupid question- look, and snorted.

"No. I called his daughter a gremlin and then hit on him in like fifteen different ways. But he's boring so I left. And then Isha told me off." He gladly accepted the rolled up joint, put the tip in his mouth and leaned in so the other could light it. Once lit, he took a long deep drag and sighed, humming comfortably.

"Some day I'll figure out why I like being mean to people so much" He muttered, because he did get... Something, out of making people feel. Even if it was anger or annoyance. Maybe deep down he knew already, but now he was just here. Smiling like an idiot, sitting on the floor next to... A friend? Ugh. Time to cross that bridge or burn it.
 
Mitch sat back in his chair and nodded to himself. Nothing to be surprised about there. He looked out over the garden. If Dark was still out there, he wasn't able to tell from a cursory glance. Mitch shut the case once again, but just let it sit on his lap for the time being. He took another hit from the joint and exhaled slowly.

"Does it make you feel good? When people don't like you?" Mitch asked, still looking out over the garden. He didn't speak as if he were lecturing the man; rather, he asked with a certain sincerity. "Or is it just certain people?" He tapped out the ashes on the tip of his cigarette onto a nearby ashtray. "From the amount you two were talking, it seems like you probably know him better than the rest of us even do, ironically enough." There was a dry smile on his face for a moment, but it went away about as quick as it came.

"It's uh... It's been a pretty rough day. It feels like everyone is on edge. I'm trying to get along with them but I feel like my words are falling on uninterested ears. That, and all the talk about families and stuff, and uh..." Mitch just trailed off. Probably no point even elaborating there. "The kid probably thinks I'm an idiot. I don't even know why that bothers me," he said with a sad, singular laugh.
 
The other man's words reminded Abel he'd been wanting to talk to Mitch. His eyes widened and he scooted forward, throwing all respect he seemed to have for his friend's personal space out the window. He gently rested one hand on Mitch's leg, looking up at him and letting his blanket slide to the floor. He kept his other hand so he could hold the joint he was smoking, instead of letting it fall or something.

"Just some people!, Fuck I just remembered, I don't know exactly what I did but I upset you this morning. Or made you sad or something... I'm so sorry!, I didn't mean to, I just get mad and say shit. Here, I found you a cool coin." He put his hand into his pant's pocket and pulled out what looked like an antique gold coin, small and sort of faded.

"You can keep it for good luck or something. It's been lucky to me today. And forget about the kid, or what anyone else thinks. They suck, and you're a rockstar baby." He ended with a small laugh, having gone off into a wild tangent like he tended to do. But he still looked up at Mitch with bright eyes, tiredness gone, and no small amount of enthusiasm.
 
Mitch looked back at Abel as he put his hand on his leg with a slight jump, and after a brief pause, he put his cigarette on the railing, carefully placed the wooden case back down next to his chair, and gently placed his own hand over Abel's. As Abel handed him the coin, Mitch slowly twirled it between his fingers in his hand, looking at it from all angles. It was funny, it was kind of like a puppy bringing you their favorite stick. It gave Mitch a warm feeling.

"Please, I'm sure you say that to all the others," Mitch said bashfully, smiling despite himself. "I love the coin, by the way. Thank you." He sighed comfortably. "I don't think you did anything wrong. I'm just..." He fell silent for a moment. The words got trapped in his throat; he had a bit of difficulty talking about this again. "I'm scared. I'm scared that I'm not traditional enough for Dark and... I guess Luka, too." He flustered, covering his face partially with his hand. "Ivy caught me smoking up here and I nearly threw this box off the rooftop, I had no idea what to do. Even if her dad was okay with this stuff, he sure as hell wouldn't want me smoking it in front of his ten year old daughter."

He was rambling. Mitch always had trouble getting himself to stop talking when he's been smoking. "I don't know how to conduct myself properly or conventionally. God knows what my pa would say." There were synapses firing in his brain on repeat just begging him to stop talking, but of course he had to let one more thing slip.
 
"Naw, everyone gets a nickname. And you're my rockstar." Said Abel with a giggle. He wasn't expecting Mitch to put his hand over his, so he looked down in surprise, suddenly shy as he let the other talk. By the end of it, even the dad stuff, Abel's eyes had softened. He took another drag, a long one, and then stood to leave the joint on the railing.

He then proceeded to get back on his knees, blanket forgotten, and awkwardly hug Mitch from the side.

"You're too damn sweet. Stop giving two shits what people think... They can fuck right off of they don't like you. But for whatever it's worth, I know for a fact youuu are like one of Lulu's favourite tenants. And mine too." He said with a soft laugh, his head resting against Mitch's side if he had accepted the hug.

"Ten year old gremlins should be in fuckin' bed. And fuck society. You've got to come to see me on the stage sometime. You'll see a different side of it. So different! Fuck context Mitch-y, you be you!" He told his friend, tongue looser than usual. He did go out dancing sometimes, but the stage was something he was very careful to not mention to people. Still, being high mostly turned Abel into a cuddly teddy, affectionate as anything. He could be like that without smoking or drinking, but it was definitely a rare sight.
 
Mitch returned the hug with a particular warmness. "Thanks, Abel." He said, giving him a squeeze back. "You're sweeter than you let on, you know." He heard Abel mention the stage, but he didn't press into it. He could tell he was particularly loose-lipped. He just smiled to himself.

He yawned. If he wasn't tired before, he was definitely exhausted now. The two days he has been awake has caught up to him with a vengeance. "I'm probably going to crash soon. It's been a long, long day." He finished off the last bit of his second cigarette, crushing the tip and leaving the roach in the ashtray. He took a breath of relief in that, like Mitch didn't pry about the stage, that Abel didn't pry about his father.
 
Abel nodded, taking another drag from his own he had just recovered from the railing, letting go of Mitch after a final squeeze.

"Want a bed warmer?, just to sleep, I'm too tired for this to be an indecent proposal" He said with a giggle, back to sitting on the wooden floor. He recovered his blanket and looked up at Mitch, expectant for an answer.

"No pressure though, there's plenty of couches. I'm so tough, I'll be fine either way Mitch-y" he joked, sticking his tongue out for a moment before taking one final drag from his joint. The remains were abandoned in the ashtray.
 
"Nah, I think I just need some time with my own thoughts. You know how it is, yeah?" Mitch sighed, the weight of the day admittedly wearing on him. He picked up the wooden case and got up from the chair with an exhausted groan.

He gave Abel a pat on the shoulder. "You're a real tough'un." He teased. "You're a good'un, too, y'know. Get yourself some rest though, you look like you've done enough for the next two weeks." He gave him a toothy grin.
 
"Amen to that, but you too Mitch" Answered Abel, gladly grinning back at his friend. Whether it was about him being tired, or being tough and Good he didn't quite specify.

"See you tomorrow. I think I'll be around for the day" He said, putting his hand on Mitch's shoulder and giving a couple of pats. He then slid it down his entire arm to his hand and gave it a little squeeze.

"Nighty night. Sleep tight!" He said in a loud whisper before he was off. To hide away in the upstairs living room where he'd fall face first onto the couch. Then he'd curl up, blanket around himself, and promptly fall asleep with a smile on his face and a warm feeling in his chest.
 
Shortly after Ikanov collapsed onto the living room couch, Dark came inside, carrying Ivy. She had fallen asleep outside awhile ago, but he was content to stay outside a little while longer, since the night was beautiful. And, yes, he knew he ought to start waking her up and walking her upstairs to bed, instead of carrying her up, since she was almost elven. He probably should have begun waking her up a few years ago.

But why not carry her, since he could? To him, she was still very small, and not only because he was her father, she did not even come up to his shoulders. She was little and easy to lift. It wasn't like he did it every night. Tonight was different. Tonight was weird. So he carried her upstairs, and then, with some difficulty (he had not accounted for the loft bed, and had to stand on his bed, and destroy the blanket fort, to manage it), tucked her in for the night. Then he brought his clothes into the bathroom to change into his pajamas, because even though Ivy was sleeping, he was not going to change in the same room as her, and tried to go to sleep himself.
 
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