Yeah, but... [Oh, forget it. Richie sighs. Manners is manners, and it's best not to dwell on the gaffe. He's a tad paranoid all the same: eons ago he would have launched into some cockamamie routine, squawking and chirruping over the blindness the way he had over Ben's weight, Stan's Jewishness, Bill's stutter, Mike's blackness. It had been his warped form of affection, acceptance wrapped in gags and jokes that would get your ears boxed if the grown folks heard. Thank Christ he'd shaken loose of it the older he'd gotten. Reserved the worst of his teasing for good friends who knew it for what it was and gave back just as bad, and spared strangers the displeasure of his antics.
For the most part, anyway. On the radio, anything goes save the four letter no-nos.]
That so? [Hmmph. Richie takes his own share, ounce and a half of scotch hitting the back of his throat like a fireball. He grimaces as it goes down.] Glad to hear no one's taken a match to the powder keg yet. I'm tired of being antsy all the damn time about which side's gonna trigger the bomb first.
[Much too late, he realizes it. With pronounced reluctance, he continues.] You're not, uh...how do I put this? I know for some reason the world ended more than once. There's some duplication mess or some shit, I don't have the degree in astrophysics to make a lick of sense out of it, but you know. You're from an Earth, right? [Richie's fingers drum uneasily at the side of the bottle.] You know the one about the Soviets? Soviets v. America, who's got more deposits in the bomb bank?
[Honestly, Matt doesn't mind the teasing. For a guy who likes to dress up like a moron and punch bad guys at night, he's pretty self-aware, and he doesn't mind teasing at his expense, even, at times, seems to encourage it, even from someone harsh like Jessica Jones. The ability to laugh at himself is one of the few good qualities he has.]
[But as is, he's willing to let it go. It tends to be an awkward subject with anyone -- people don't really know how to handle a blind man, if he's honest]
They're giving diplomacy a shot, so I don't think you have to worry. Worst comes to worse, we refugees will take care of each other. Like we're doing now.
[Including the alcohol he's sharing with Matt, that definitely counts]
Yeah, I'm from New York. [And in this way, he also understands Richie's fumbling and hesitation -- it's been a few months, but he still has the same hesitation when broaching this subject -- are you for Earth or not] And I try not to think about it too hard. [The astrophysics, duplicate worlds, etc, he's already given up trying to make sense of it]
The Cold War. But that was a while ago, for me. [Speaking of duplicate worlds and science fiction --] It's the past for you too, right?
[They're gonna be dancing around these subjects all night]
((this is so late i'm gomen nasai, feel free to ignore if you want to move on))
[Richie tuts.]
Take care of me and mine and let the rest mind their beeswax. I guess we've got no choice, huh?
[His answer, though welcoming in the familiarity (New York, now that's a proper fucking place to come from) is absolutely dismaying in others. Richie laughs and takes a short swig before passing the bottle back to his camping partner.]
Fuck no, it's not the past. I'm Los Angeles for the record. Go Dodgers. Hope they're batting out the Mets in their sweet dreams up there. [He makes a vague gesture to the sky where Thesa ought to be floating, once again forgetting whose company he's keeping.] If you'd asked me a week or two ago I'd be telling you its the middle of May and the year is 1985. Think that one's the Ox, gathered that much from my last trip to Chinatown.
So. When does it end, Mr. Future Man? [Richie cuts a grin and leans in.] Don't think I caught your name, either. I'm Rich Tozier. I'm real chuffed to hear the East Coast makes it out alive.
Edited 2017-12-27 20:34 (UTC)
this is so late, says kabby, ignoring the fact that my tag was later
No, we have a choice. And I'll be taking care of as many people as I can. [Don't underestimate his stupidity, Richie, he's an MCU protag]
[He hears the liquid swishing and takes the bottle back, taking a long gulp. He laughs, too, more at the sheer normalcy of the talk.. Go Mets] That's probably the only way the Dodgers would win.
[SHOTS FIRED!!!!!!]
I'm around thirty years ahead, then. [1985.... he would have been a young child, ten] Matt Murdock, attorney at law. Not so much anymore, though. As for the end of the world... with all these talks of timelines and worlds, your guess is as good as mine. I guess it's now.
There's a light double take there. Has he been hanging around with Steve Trevor? Jesus, all these saviour complexes. Richie will just leave that where it is, thank you. Besides, the more pressing matter is clearly baseball.]
Is that so? The Mets would need thirty years to learn to pitch.
[Richie gives a long sigh about this tragic development. Terrific. There's some comfort in knowing that there's a wide spread of folks. They've taken people from way back when, some in the middle of the twentieth century, and then the twenty-first and beyond. It's not one hundred part-time astronauts and then ancient relic Richie Tozier. Even so, when you find yourself behind the curve it's a touch galling. He hates getting caught off guard by the simple shit. The space station was a nightmare.]
I'm thinking the best way to deal with it is to not deal with it all. Or just assume there were a bunch of little worlds packed next to each other like hardcovers in a bookcase. Still shitty to think that it's happening and happening so fast. That the storms making rounds like that and there's nothing to be done about it.
[Oh, he sure does. But Ritchie's smart to breeze right past that subject, Mr. Martyx Complex is as stubborn as he is Catholic. Which is a lot]
Let's not go there. I wouldn't want you to get into a fist fight with a blind man. [He says it lightly but he's (mostly) joking... as much as he loves New York (particularly, the 10 blocks he lives in), he's not as diehard about the Mets as some other New Yorkers. Particularly, Foggy]
That's about what I've been doing. [Not dealing with things: The Matt Murdock way] There has to be a way to stop it, even if we don't know it yet. I mean --- Natha has the technology to pluck us all away and save us, so stopping it can't be that much of a stretch.
[He kind of sounds a little like he's trying to convince himself, though]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
For the most part, anyway. On the radio, anything goes save the four letter no-nos.]
That so? [Hmmph. Richie takes his own share, ounce and a half of scotch hitting the back of his throat like a fireball. He grimaces as it goes down.] Glad to hear no one's taken a match to the powder keg yet. I'm tired of being antsy all the damn time about which side's gonna trigger the bomb first.
[Much too late, he realizes it. With pronounced reluctance, he continues.] You're not, uh...how do I put this? I know for some reason the world ended more than once. There's some duplication mess or some shit, I don't have the degree in astrophysics to make a lick of sense out of it, but you know. You're from an Earth, right? [Richie's fingers drum uneasily at the side of the bottle.] You know the one about the Soviets? Soviets v. America, who's got more deposits in the bomb bank?
no subject
[But as is, he's willing to let it go. It tends to be an awkward subject with anyone -- people don't really know how to handle a blind man, if he's honest]
They're giving diplomacy a shot, so I don't think you have to worry. Worst comes to worse, we refugees will take care of each other. Like we're doing now.
[Including the alcohol he's sharing with Matt, that definitely counts]
Yeah, I'm from New York. [And in this way, he also understands Richie's fumbling and hesitation -- it's been a few months, but he still has the same hesitation when broaching this subject -- are you for Earth or not] And I try not to think about it too hard. [The astrophysics, duplicate worlds, etc, he's already given up trying to make sense of it]
The Cold War. But that was a while ago, for me. [Speaking of duplicate worlds and science fiction --] It's the past for you too, right?
[They're gonna be dancing around these subjects all night]
no subject
[Richie tuts.]
Take care of me and mine and let the rest mind their beeswax. I guess we've got no choice, huh?
[His answer, though welcoming in the familiarity (New York, now that's a proper fucking place to come from) is absolutely dismaying in others. Richie laughs and takes a short swig before passing the bottle back to his camping partner.]
Fuck no, it's not the past. I'm Los Angeles for the record. Go Dodgers. Hope they're batting out the Mets in their sweet dreams up there. [He makes a vague gesture to the sky where Thesa ought to be floating, once again forgetting whose company he's keeping.] If you'd asked me a week or two ago I'd be telling you its the middle of May and the year is 1985. Think that one's the Ox, gathered that much from my last trip to Chinatown.
So. When does it end, Mr. Future Man? [Richie cuts a grin and leans in.] Don't think I caught your name, either. I'm Rich Tozier. I'm real chuffed to hear the East Coast makes it out alive.
this is so late, says kabby, ignoring the fact that my tag was later
[He hears the liquid swishing and takes the bottle back, taking a long gulp. He laughs, too, more at the sheer normalcy of the talk.. Go Mets] That's probably the only way the Dodgers would win.
[SHOTS FIRED!!!!!!]
I'm around thirty years ahead, then. [1985.... he would have been a young child, ten] Matt Murdock, attorney at law. Not so much anymore, though. As for the end of the world... with all these talks of timelines and worlds, your guess is as good as mine. I guess it's now.
sipp pls.........
There's a light double take there. Has he been hanging around with Steve Trevor? Jesus, all these saviour complexes. Richie will just leave that where it is, thank you. Besides, the more pressing matter is clearly baseball.]
Is that so? The Mets would need thirty years to learn to pitch.
[Richie gives a long sigh about this tragic development. Terrific. There's some comfort in knowing that there's a wide spread of folks. They've taken people from way back when, some in the middle of the twentieth century, and then the twenty-first and beyond. It's not one hundred part-time astronauts and then ancient relic Richie Tozier. Even so, when you find yourself behind the curve it's a touch galling. He hates getting caught off guard by the simple shit. The space station was a nightmare.]
I'm thinking the best way to deal with it is to not deal with it all. Or just assume there were a bunch of little worlds packed next to each other like hardcovers in a bookcase. Still shitty to think that it's happening and happening so fast. That the storms making rounds like that and there's nothing to be done about it.
[How long has this world got?]
kabby please
Let's not go there. I wouldn't want you to get into a fist fight with a blind man. [He says it lightly but he's (mostly) joking... as much as he loves New York (particularly, the 10 blocks he lives in), he's not as diehard about the Mets as some other New Yorkers. Particularly, Foggy]
That's about what I've been doing. [Not dealing with things: The Matt Murdock way] There has to be a way to stop it, even if we don't know it yet. I mean --- Natha has the technology to pluck us all away and save us, so stopping it can't be that much of a stretch.
[He kind of sounds a little like he's trying to convince himself, though]