6/29 open to all!

[sciencesaggressively]

It’s been a good morning.

As much as Newt prefers to have his wife around, he also can’t deny that every once in a while, having a day off when Kate is scheduled to work can be kinda nice—even when it means Jeff tries to cuddle up next to him when he’s trying to lounge naked on the couch. What makes that worse is the way goddamn Cat stares at him like he’s trying to peer real deep into Newt’s soul.

Otherwise, it’s perfectly relaxing, and he knows Kate would say the same of when he’s out long enough for her to have the condo to herself for the day. Of course, being that the place is so big, there’s only so much tinkering and TV watching and baiting the dog with the cat that he can take before he needs to be out and about. That wouldn’t have been a problem at the ‘Dome, he’d been totally content to be alone in a dark lab for hours on end, not even bothering to take a break to eat unless Hermann would sigh at him from across their diving line before going to grab him a tray from the mess hall. Nowadays, though, he’s about to be around people. It gets too boring without having some to talk at, and the pets don’t count.

Once it hits noon, Newt decides that he’s craving something he doesn’t have to go the trouble of making himself for lunch. Indian, maybe, or Thai. Or pizza. Chinese? A burger. No, probably Thai. Definitely Thai, and he can grab something to go before he leaves the restaurant to drop off for Kate at The Dressing Room to earn himself some extra Super Awesome Husband points. Yes, good, a plan.

Before he leaves, he makes sure the dog has done her thing and the pet bowls are stocked up with food and then he’s out the door, nodding at Jack the Door Guy as he passes through the lobby doors. The Thai place is only a couple blocks away, his mouth is already watering at the thought of shoveling some pad thai in his mouth, but he has to take a moment to pay attention to his surroundings because it’s such a nice day out. The sun is shining, the sky is clear, and all Newt can think is that he’d better not get a burn because he’s so not prepared to deal with a peely nose. Granted, he probably should have remembered to slap on some sunscreen before he’d left but the thing is, he hadn’t so really, it’s up to Mother Nature now to do him a solid.

Squinting up at the offending sun, he adjusts his glasses, losing track of where he’s stepping because of the distraction. Before he can process what’s even happening, Newt crashes into another body, nearly landing his ass on the ground.

“Dude!” he exclaims as he steadies himself, arms held out to maintain his balance. “That was totally my bad, sorry. You good?”

Comments

[rancho_weirdo]

Coop couldn't remember the passcode to his phone. He was pretty sure he'd set it up one night when he'd been drunk and he hadn't had the wherewithal to write the thing down. Now, he was stuck trying to figure out what his alcohol laden brain might have come up with.

"You stupid piece of shit can't even remember your own -- " His tirade was interrupted by someone's shoulder smacking against his own. Coop stumbled backwards several steps, barely managing to stay on his feet.

Dazed, he glanced around, trying to figure out if he'd hit a tree or a person or maybe some sentient talking tree person. It could have happen in Jinx City, it could happen here.

"Uh." Coop blinked and peered at Newt. He was not a tree. "Yeah, I'm good. Are you good? No concussions? I've heard those are pretty common these days."

[sciencesaggressively]

Concussions? That's a damn good question, actually, and Newt prods at his head just to make sure there are no bumps and bruises, never mind the fact that he hadn't actually hit his head in the first place. Better safe than sorry, which has absolutely never been his motto.

"Nah, man, no concussions, not this time." Newt's had a few since arriving in Darrow a couple years back. Bar fights, car accident, and hey, throwback to that alleyway stabbing but all in all, he's still got the brain cells to function better than like, most people. He may not be able to take someone down in a fight but given the chance, he might just be able to talk himself out of one. If he feels like it, anyway. Sometimes it's secretly kind of fun to throw a punch, even if he does always end up getting his ass kicked until one of his more brick wall-like buddies step in to help.

"Are they common? You might just be hangin' with the wrong crowds, my friend."

[rancho_weirdo]

"Hey, they were always talking about studies they did on concussion and head injuries on television back home," Coop retorted. They hadn't been given many amenities in prison (because it was prison) but they had had a television that the guards had set up to the news most mornings and evenings. Besides the regular dose of murder, mayhem and destruction, concussion studies seemed to be all the rage.

"I just didn't want to get sued," he explained, "because any money I might have had that might have made me rich is long gone."

[sciencesaggressively]

"Y'know, I'd be willing to bet there's some version of me running around where I came from livin' the high life, all rock star famous and shit," Newt says, and he's being completely serious. There's no way in hell that having a hand in saving the world and living to tell about it wouldn't land him in a pretty goddamn lucrative spot, he'd probably have written like, eight memoirs by now plus helped consult on several televised series and possibly even some movie deals.

Has he given up science in favor of a music career? Doubtful but still, he can see himself picking up some side projects, considering there's not much else for a scientist specializing in kaiju biology to do once all the kaijus are dead and gone.

"Anyway, don't worry, I'm not gonna be suing anyone," he continues. "I mean, no promises if you do give me a concussion next time but at least I know ahead of time that I wouldn't have much to gain." He holds a hand out, smiling broadly. "I'm Newt, by the way."

[rancho_weirdo]

"Coop," he said, taking Newt's hand and giving it a solid shake. "I'm going to be doing my best to not give anyone concussions because I really don't have a lot to be sued for and what I do have I need. So, I promise to try and avoid that all together."

Coop knew that meant he'd have to pay better attention to his surroundings which meant not fucking with his phone when he was drunk. He gave said phone a scowl and then shoved it back into his pocket.

"I seem to have messed up my phone in my inebriated state last night," he explained, giving his pocket a pat. "I think that proves I'm never going to be a rock star or famous or anything close to comfortable. It's my lot in life."

[sciencesaggressively]

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm willing to bet there are plenty of rock stars who've fucked their phones up after having a little too much to drink," Newt tells him with a broad grin, and he's not even being facetious.

He's actually fortunate enough to have only needed to replace his phone twice since getting here and neither time had even been his fault; but still, having a phone break in the name of partying hard isn't necessarily the worst thing in the world.

He holds a hand out then, snapping his fingers before pointing at Coop's pocket. "I might be able to fix it, if it isn't so fucked up that it's too far gone," he continues. "I mean, I seriously need to get something to eat before my stomach eats itself first but yeah, I could take a look at it, if you want."

[rancho_weirdo]

"At this point, I'll try anything including handing my phone over to someone IO just met and might have given a concussion to if things had been different," Coop said, plucking his phone out of his pocket and passing it to Newt.

"It's not really broken but I can't get into it. I don't know if I set up the Fort Knox of a security code or I managed to break something inside which is being disguised by how the outer appearance doesn't look too bad."

He couldn't remember putting the phone under water or sneezing on it or trying to give it a drink of booze so he was taking those as good signs.

[sciencesaggressively]

"You clearly make the best choices," Newt says dryly, taking the phone and turning it over in his hands. He pokes at the screen, letting out a little hum when it's unresponsive. There aren't any major cracks on the phone, no pixelation of the screensaver, nothing like that. Might take more than a quick try on the sidewalk.

"Might need to be debugged, could be something wrong with the hardware," Newt says. "Problem is, we need to actually get into it, but we might be able to do it with an OTG adaptor. I've got one at home and at my lab."

He glances up at Coop. "How do you feel about taking a trip to a stranger's house?"

[rancho_weirdo]

"As long as you don't try and kidnap me and keep me in a closet, I'm okay with it," Coop decided after a second's worth of thought. "I've been kidnapped a few times already and it is not fun."

Coop made sure to keep his voice light, joking even if there were teases of truth in his statement. He didn't think Newt was the type to kidnap anyone and Coop thought that he could probably get away if he was. Still, it was good to put up some boundaries in their newly started friendship.

No kidnapping. That seemed like a solid start.

[refusedtocall]

In all fairness, Carla Jean should probably be paying more attention to where she's going, too. Though she may not be much for letting her mind wander, the heat and the light, glinting off windows, make it easy to do so. Summer in Darrow, she's found, is nothing at all like summer in Sanderson, where everything's dry and dusty and open, not too unlike it is the rest of the year. Here, the air is heavy with humidity, and the buildings, the structure of it, all the people lining the sidewalks, make it a different beast altogether. She doesn't mind it, but she's still dressed accordingly, her hair pulled off the back of her neck in a messy bun, wearing the kind of loose t-shirt and denim shorts that she'd have worn around the trailer back home. It feels a little more familiar, a little more manageable, than the cooler months they get here.

Whatever the reason, she doesn't see Newt until he's walking straight into her, then nearly falling over, while she takes a couple steps back to stay upright. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she says, letting out a breathless, flustered laugh. "Are you? Not gonna topple over, are you?"

[sciencesaggressively]

Ah, shit, it's Carla Jean. Aside from his own wife, there are very few other people he'd want to nearly knock over less, which he's pretty sure is supposed to be meant as a compliment.

"Me, topple over? No. No, no, no, it'll take a little more than that to take me down." Not true, he's been tackled to the ground by the goddamn dog, he's pretty sure Carla Jean's even seen that happen but still, he doesn't have to admit it out loud.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Newt breaks into a grin. "So this is what it takes to get you to see me now, huh? Gotta totally run into you on purpose just so you'll give me the light of day? Real coo, Carla Jean, real cool."

[refusedtocall]

"Hey, it ain't that hard to track me down," Carla Jean says, laughing as she does. "I do have a phone, you know." All teasing aside, she knows she's just as much responsible for how long it's been since they've crossed paths, said phone something she uses rarely. She's able to use it now, a step up from where she was when she first showed up here, but to her, it still seems strange and new and, more often than not, unnecessary. She'll answer it if it rings, return a text, but little more than that.

At least their collision wasn't serious, though, and at least it's Newt whom she's run into, or who's run into her, or some combination of the two. "In fact, I was just tellin' your wife, I should come cook for you in your fancy kitchen sometime."

[sciencesaggressively]

She's got him there.

Newt briefly considers trying to blame his lack of communication on being busy with moving, but he thinks better of it because Carla Jean would totally call him out on that. The truth is, he's just freakin' lazy and tends to wait for his phone to blow up, which is does often enough. That's not something he ever thought he'd be able to say, but Newt's admittedly glad he can. The differences between his life here and in the 'Dome are pretty goddamn astounding but one of the most notable is the fact that he actually has a social life here. Bonus wife, too, he's pretty fond of her.

"Um, you should totally come cook for us," Newt says, nodding eagerly. He does most of the cooking at home, aside from the occasional cute attempts Kate makes, but it'd be nice to have someone over to spoil them. "You know you're welcome anytime and not just because you're promising food. Speaking of which, I was headed over to the Thai place up the street to get lunch, wanna join?"

[refusedtocall]

"Yeah, yeah, that sounds great," Carla Jean says with a grin, nodding in agreement. Thai food — like so much else in Darrow — is still relatively new to her, nothing she was able to get back home and that she's still pretty sure she doesn't wholly understand, but she definitely can't pass up the offer of lunch, especially with Newt for company. As established, it's been too long since they've hung out as it is. This seems like a perfect opportunity to change that, to catch up a little without either of them having to remember to use their phones better than they already do.

Nodding down the block, she says, "Lead the way?"

[sciencesaggressively]

"You might have to run to catch up," Newt teases, taking the first few steps toward the restaurant, "I'm seriously so goddamn hungry that I'm pretty sure my stomach's just eating itself. If I die of starvation before we get there, remember me fondly and say nice things at my funeral."

Literally two minutes later, they arrive, both of them still alive and well, and Newt holds the door open for Carla Jean. "Holy shit," he says, letting his eyes briefly flutter shut as he inhales the scents that waft out to greet them. "You smell that? Heaven. Heaven. Food is always so much better when someone else makes it for you."

[refusedtocall]

"That, I can definitely agree with," Carla Jean says, laughing as she steps inside. Even with as much as she enjoys to cook — and she does, as much for the familiarity of it as anything else — it's nice not to have to worry about it, too, and it isn't like she goes to places like this often. It makes her appreciate doing so, and the variety here, that much more when she actually does. "We better order quick, I really don't want to have to explain to your wife how you died of starvation right before we could get Thai food."

They're nowhere close to that and she knows it, but he's the one who made the joke first, and anyway, now that they're here, she's more aware of just how hungry she really is. At least it doesn't seem to be too crowded.

[sciencesaggressively]

"She'd be pretty pissed," Newt agrees, grabbing a couple takeout menus and handing one to Carla Jean to browse. "She's not a fan of when I get into near-death situations, no idea why."

Staring at the menu isn't helping him at all, if only because his eyes are so much bigger than his stomach right now, though his stomach can hold a lot. Pad Thai, lemongrass chicken, yellow curry, fried spring rolls, red curry, green curry, Newt wants it all, every last bit of it. Well, okay, he'll save some of it for Kate; but most of it's definitely going to be for him.

"I think I've decided," he says, looking up at Carla Jean with a victorious grin. "I'm getting literally everything on this menu."

[ahollowman]

"Uh, yeah, all in one piece," Tony said, checking himself over before bending to pick up his sunglasses. They would be fine, they were covered in clear coat. He was more worried about the state of the file folder, which he stuffed papers back into, squatting on his calves.

"They should really make lanes on sidewalks. That would solve so many-- like, either two directional lanes, or an emergency lane. But then how would people rom-com meet cute?"

[sciencesaggressively]

Guy looks familiar.

In fact, Newt knows he's met this guy before, at least someone who'd looked exactly like him, down to the goatee. Tony fuckin' Stark, that's who it'd been, but this version of him doesn't seem to recognize Newt so maybe it's someone else entirely. Or like, a Tony Stark from a different universe. Possibly a clone, that could be neat, Newt certainly hasn't seen Stark in awhile so maybe that's what he's been doing all this time.

"Sorry, pal, this meet cute isn't meant to be. Not that you aren't a looker but y'know, exchanged those vows and all that," Newt says, flashing his wedding band before tilting his head and nodding toward the folder in the guy's hands. "Looks official. Maybe even important. Hope I didn't mess any of it up too badly."

[ahollowman]

Tony managed to give a good-humored snort, and not to be actively resentful of the wedding band, because he was resentful about too much lately, and it was silly and also unbecoming, especially unbecoming of Tony Stark.

He was broken up. He'd have to get over it. No reason to be a dick about it.

"Not that important," he told the guy, who was small, and manic, even more so than Tony was, which predisposed Tony to like him.

"Just stuff for my Snap-On guy. Darrow brand equivalent Snap-On guy. Cool jacket."

[sciencesaggressively]

"You have a Snap-On guy? Is that legit or is that just code for something else? I can keep a secret, y'know."

Newt really can't but Maybe Tony Stark doesn't need to know that.

"But thanks," he continues, glancing down at himself. "It's pretty sweet, isn't it? Got all sorts of fucked up before I came here but once my ass landed at that train station, it was all mended, like nothing happened at all. Guess Darrow's good for something every once in awhile."

[ahollowman]

"That is legit. Well, almost legit. He's really a Crack-On guy, which sounds even worse, but nevertheless provides me with quality ratchets that are very hard to bust."

Tony gave a snort, taking another casual look at the jacket which, indeed, was very cool and also intact. He hadn't been so lucky on his own arrival, but he supposed he'd been lucky enough for him.

"I'm uh, Tony. Tony Stark. Got here not long ago. Kinda still wishing I hadn't."

[sciencesaggressively]

So it is Stark.

Newt doesn't plan on telling the guy there'd apparently been a different version of him running around Darrow for a bit, that's never a conversation he wants to have with anyone. He hates the idea of telling someone that almost as much as he hates the very possibility that someone might one day tell him they recognize him from some shitty movie or TV show. There's just something about realizing he could be fictional that makes him feel invalidated, like his whole life is a lie, even though he's lived it.

Anyway, it doesn't make much sense, so Newt's happy enough to actively not let it dwell on his mind.

"Y'know, I met a guy once who looked pretty much exactly like you," Newt tells him instead. That's a little more fun and yet, still somewhat harmless. "Darrow's weird like that, in case you hadn't notice the whole doppelganger thing yet. You'll get used to the place, though. It kinda grows on you. Mostly because you have no choice but to let it."

[ahollowman]

"Robert Downey Jr.?" Tony asked. "Beause there is this guy who swears to go I'm that guy and also that I'm on the downlow with Mark Ruffalo. Which, I mean, you could do way worse, so at least he thinks I have good taste."

Tony gave a helpless little shrug. Darrow was already, sort of, growing on him, in a way he didn't really want but couldn't avoid.

"How long you been? Here, I mean. You seem chill about it. Or maybe you're just a chill guy."

It would not surprise him, although the guy had energy. More energy than Tony. Which was saying something.

[sciencesaggressively]

"Who?" Newt wrinkles his nose, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter, I don't care."

At a certain point, he thinks this place is going to have to stop surprising him but every time Newt believes he's getting there, some other shit happens to change his mind. That whole thing with the Academy Awards, for instance, when that gal who'd look spot on like a just slightly older Kate had won something for some movie, had been so bizarre; and yet, Newt had still felt proud that his wife had totally won an Oscar. Okay, not his actual wife but close enough.

It makes him wonder if there's a guy out in that same universe as Not Kate, running around making movies and being generally awesome. Not as awesome as the real deal, obviously, but Newt's sure anyone who looked like him would still be super cool.

"Coming on three years in a few months," he says, and it's strange to say that out loud. It's not as long as some people, but it's still a good chunk of time. Tons of people have come and gone since then, he just hopes he won't be next in line to get his ass removed anytime soon. His life is here now, everything he loves is here. Newt's not sure how he'd adjust to losing it all. "Kinda crazy, isn't it? Three freakin' years. And I am totally a chill guy, dude. The chillest, even, I'm ice cold."