#❛ thread ┊ movie night. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mortemoppetere · 8 months

Text

TIMING: later tonight LOCATION: outside teddy's house PARTIES: @eldritchaccident & a mysterious man… SUMMARY: it's teddy's turn to meet the mystery man! CONTENT: none!

This was a strange one, wasn’t it? Online sleuthing wasn’t something the man was particularly skilled in — the internet was a thing that came well after his time, and he’d had little use for it at all until recently — but he’d done what he could to work out who would be best to approach for information. And he’d hesitated on this one.

For a while, things had seemed antagonistic. The man had considered using this to his advantage at first, but… there was something beneath the bickering that spoke of a more intimate relationship, wasn’t there? And then, even the public dynamic had shifted into something resembling fondness. He didn’t know what to make of Emilio Cortez’s strange relationship with Teddy Jones.

But he knew there was still some chance of using it to his advantage.

At first, he’d worried he wouldn’t be able to approach Jones without the hunter there. The two seemed to spend a good deal of time with one another, after all. But eventually, the tides turned and Jones was alone. It was an opportunity that the man wouldn’t squander.

He approached Jones near their home, but only after making sure there was no one else in it. This wasn’t a conversation that would do to have interrupted, after all. The man put on the closest he could manage to a friendly face. It was a clumsy, unpracticed thing. The lines of his face were still too hard, evidence of years of frowning etched into his skin. Still, he forced a smile as he approached. “Hola,” he greeted. There was no use attempting to hide his accent, so he made no effort to do so. “You live near, yes? I have something I could use your help with.”

—

There was a comfort in daylight now that they were no longer a monster. At least not physically. Teddy had never been a morning person. Never delighted in seeing the sun rise unless it was just before they headed off to slumber. But Wicked's Rest was full of things that hid in the dark. Things the ex-demon used to be able to go toe to toe with, all without blinking. But now? Some days they were a little scared of their own shadow when the others grew too long. Missing the strength, the freedom that came with the great beast inside. Some days they couldn't get themself out of the house unless it was bright and sunny.

On more than one occasion the idealistic dreamer entertained the notion of going out, calling in a favor from a werewolf and getting them to share a nibble but– well it wouldn't be the same. And that's if Teddy even survived the bite. Not everyone did. Getting cursed to be a lamia was a little closer, they'd heard of some that became crocodilian. Big-Finn was often theorized to be some giant mutated croc, so…maybe… but…. But Teddy didn't know the first thing about how lamia got their curses. How it would affect them, and if it'd be worth it just to feel something familiar. Something better.

The few people who knew assured them that human was still good, that they were still good, but moments like this when a friendly looking stranger was coming up to them while they were alone? Teddy never remembered being scared of the possibilities before. Never thought the potential of someone like Parker or Joy sending a smiling face their way was worth caring about. Let alone speeding up their heartbeat, making their palms sweat as they put on their best mask. All grins and greetings. Preparing for the worst, hoping for the best.

“Hey, yeah, are you alright?” Teddy replied in Spanish, figuring the less miscommunication the better if the stranger actually was in need of help, and maybe some manner of… strange… tactical distraction if he wasn't. Ted didn't really know where they were going on that part. A half baked, half buried idea they tried quite ardently to ignore. This guy was probably fine. Well, fine to talk to. Clearly he was looking for something. Maybe Teddy really could help.

—

Spanish. There was an undeniable relief to hearing his first language roll off Jones’s tongue — and perhaps a hint of surprise. He’d expected Spanish to be an option when approaching the therapist, but he hadn’t realized the hunter’s roommate (was this the right term?) spoke it as well. The unexpected opportunity it provided sent a more genuine smile to the man’s face. With the therapist, the ability to use his first language instead of the second he had only the smallest grasp on had been weaponizable. It could be the same here, too.

(Part of him wondered, almost absently, how long Jones had spoken Spanish. Had they learned it years ago, or recently? The idea that they might have learned it for the hunter, to better communicate with him, sent a strange feeling through the man’s chest. Resentment, maybe. He certainly carried no shortage of that.)

“Everything is okay,” the man replied. “There aren’t any problems to worry about, nothing like that. You’re kind to worry.” Flattering them might gain him some ground. The eagerness with which they’d approached the man wasn’t something he’d seen in the hunter’s friends so far. The closest, perhaps, had been the therapist. The kid and the journalist had both been so much more closed off, so much jumpier. The man found that he liked this much better. He could use this much better. “All I’m looking for is some information. There’s a man, I think he lives with you? His name is Emilio Cortez. I’m hoping you can help me out with some things. It would help him, too.” That was a lie, the man knew; the hunter would consider no part of this helpful to himself. But the man thought Jones would be much more open to the idea if they thought the hunter would benefit as well.

—

There was a shift of weight inside Teddy’s chest. Tightening up and twisting at the mention of Emilio’s full name. Outwardly they tried their best not to let it show, overcompensating with a hundred watt smile while their hands slipped inside their big fluffy coat. Using the cold and a shiver as a good enough excuse to reach deep in those pockets. Pleasant as a peach, the ex-demon’s fingers curled around the hilt of a small dagger. No plans to use it just yet, but the weight of steel in their hand certainly made the facade a lot easier to carry.

“Oh? How’d you know that?” It was a bit of a confirmation they didn’t mean to give, but maybe that’d ease the stranger into giving up something else as well. “What are you looking to find out? Don’t know how much I can share, man’s a pretty closed book. If you know him you gotta know that. Pricklier than a porcupine.” Teddy offered a softer smile. Somewhere between a fake diss and a shared sentiment. If this man did know, maybe he’d find it funny. Maybe he’d open up.

—

They seemed cheery enough, but the man wasn’t sure he trusted it. He didn’t trust much of anything these days. He trusted people close to the hunter even less. The kid had been defensive, the journalist paranoid in a way that seemed to match the detective himself. But the therapist… She’d been helpful. If he got nothing from Jones, he’d still have what he’d learned from Reyes, still have something he could use. But he’d like to have more. It had always been a problem, for the man — that way of always wanting something more. It had gotten him into plenty of trouble.

The question came with confirmation. The hunter did live in the big house, and that was interesting. The man knew there was an apartment, too, but he’d seen Everett Tangaroa coming and going from it more often than he’d seen the hunter he was really after. The house might be a good place to ‘meet’ with the hunter, but… Then he’d have to deal with Jones. And he’d really rather not give the hunter any kind of upper hand. He knew the other man would certainly put it to good use, no matter how things were approached from his end. “Ah, I asked around,” he replied with a shrug. “You’re right about that, though. He’s definitely… difficult.” In more ways than one. “I’m not looking for you to tell me anything personal, don’t worry. I’d just like to know how he’s doing. I heard his brother was hurt recently. Do you know anything about that? If they’re both okay?” He tried to fake concern, but he’d never been very good at it. Still, he twisted his brows just so, pulled his lips down into a frown that might be passable as worried. The more information he could get about the hunter’s mental state, the better off he’d be.

—

Concern? Somehow Teddy had a hard time believing the stranger. What with all the tales the hunter had shared of Mexico, and how there were people out there to get him. Had this man followed Emilio from Etla? Tracked like a dog, and to what end? The ex-demon felt a defensive streak strike up a mile wide, which only complicated how to play this. Their hackles were raised, but they had to keep their mouth from barking at the wrong thing. “Y’know, I don’t really know that much about him. Thought his only family had passed away or something.” One thing Joneses were quite fucking good at was lying through a face of concern. Though, this wasn’t that hard of a sell. Teddy really only knew about Rhett from Wynne. The slayer did mention that he was going to help him out or something. But never elaborated. Better to stick to more familiar waters. Put more distance between Emilio and themself to disarm the stranger.

“He keeps to himself mostly. Only just moved in a month or so ago, felt bad cause his apartment got stuck in a natural disaster and I’d just inherited the place. It’s mostly empty. Were you here for that?” Maybe, just maybe, if this guy thought Teddy was in over their head or something, he’d give away his real intent. They knew how this looked, obviously having to be close enough to live together. But that didn’t mean this man had any kind of inkling what the pair had been through together. That they were… that there was something there. At least on Teddy’s side. It was a dangerous thing, to like someone that much. There was no way in hell they’d let anything happen to Emilio because of their stupid little crush.

—

Interesting. Had the man overestimated the hunter’s relationship with his ‘roommate,’ or was Jones hiding something? They were a good liar, if that was the case. Not a hint of deception in their features that the man could see, not a clue of it. The hunter was rather closed off — the idea that he was living with someone who didn’t even know he had a living brother in town wasn’t entirely far-fetched. “He doesn’t have much of it left,” the man replied, still trying to sell that unnatural concern. If Jones really did know little about the hunter, it was both a blessing and a curse. They wouldn’t be able to share an abundance of information with the man, but they might not know what not to let slip. They might have less of the loyalty that had kept the mouths of the previous people the man had spoken to shut.

But something about the story didn’t quite add up, did it? “Oh, but the apartment is fine now, isn’t it? Strange that he wouldn’t go back to it.” The man had not, in fact, been in town for the natural disaster, but he’d seen traces of it. Heard murmurs, seen the last of the cleanup. He knew from his reconnaissance that the neighborhood the hunter lived in before had been hit hard, but he knew from his recent surveillance of the area that it was back to its previous state now. If the hunter were living with a stranger, he would have wanted to get back to his apartment as soon as possible. The man knew that. So… There must have been something else, mustn’t there? Keeping him here, keeping him with Jones. The man studied them carefully, looking for cracks in the armor.

—

Fuck. Teddy had forgotten about the cleanup, most of the people that they knew from Wormrow had found other places to be. “I assumed he’s making plans about moving back. Maybe he just got busy with work. He’s gone most of the day. Doesn’t leave much time for packing.” Careful fingers fiddled with the blade in their pocket, twisting it this way and that. Would it be better, they wondered, to go for their own skin first? With the way their new power worked, it was a fair question. If this was someone here to hunt Emilio, he had to be a decent fighter in his own right.

Dark eyes flicked to the man’s hands, to any exposed skin. Looking for any signs. Excessive scars, callouses in specific striations. Watching the way his gaze moved, listening to the way he spoke. Teddy wasn’t a detective, but they had studied the way people acted. Extensively. Always on the outside trying their best to make themself fit in. Make themself almost human, even now, with blood as red as any other homosapien on earth.

What was this man was as much of a mystery as who he was. And both important, both clues to the other. There weren’t any obvious signs of undead-ery. But it wasn’t like they had a sense for it. Something the ex-demon suddenly felt very jealous of the slayer for. But there were people after him too, right? The guy didn’t seem to be from around here, from everything he was saying it felt more like he just got to town. Hard to tell if it was a short or a long trip he’d made. “How do you know him, by the way? I never asked, I don’t even know your name.”

—

“Does he have much to pack?” The man suspected he knew the answer. Hunters traveled light, didn’t they? And this one had been in constant motion for years now. The man would know — he’d been chasing him just as long. No, packing wasn’t what was keeping the hunter in Jones’s house, because what would he pack? The few items of clothing he kept? The weapons he wouldn’t have felt comfortable enough to remove from his person if he didn’t trust his ‘temporary’ housemate enough to do so? It was a flimsy excuse. It was exactly what the man had been looking for: a crack in that armor. He had to fight to keep himself from smiling.

It still didn’t tell him much, of course. Not anything about what the relationship between the hunter and his housemate might be, no clues offered to how the man might be faring mentally or emotionally. But it was still something, wasn’t it? The man had to cling to every small piece of leverage he could find and he knew it. He had to make his handholds where he could find them.

Ah, but here came the questions. Everyone had them. It was a natural thing, of course. But the man knew he couldn’t answer much of anything. If he gave away too much, he’d lose what little ground he’d gained and it would all be over before it began at all. He’d come too far for that now. So, he was as vague with Jones as he had been with everyone else so far. “Oh, I knew him back in Mexico,” he said, ignoring the secondary question entirely. “Hoping to reconnect now. It’s been a while. So, he works a lot, then? Lots of… cases?”

—

From an outside observer, this barely looked like a notable conversation. But it was a game of chess, both players suspecting the other of being some manner of mastermind, both trying to pry secret information from beneath the pieces as they fell into place. Pawns lost, Queens moved, Kings protected. Teddy leaned casually against the fence behind them, and found their hand gripping tight on the hilt of the blade the moment the stranger mentioned Mexico. And notably didn’t answer anything concrete. Bile bit at the back of their well practiced warm expression, while a heat began to make their head swim.

The deliberate non-answer was enough to justify the man as villain. Though maybe that judgment came from the same place as the need to protect. The defensive shield that they guarded the other with. “Ah well, maybe if you give me your name and a place I can reach you at, I can send him your way.” Better yet, they could do their own research. Was the house compromised? Didn’t seem like this was another attempt from Joy. And whoever had sent this guy, or whatever reasons he had for being here, immediate violence didn’t seem to be on the table. “Can’t really speak for the big guy much.”

Which meant he either wanted something from Emilio, or he was playing some kind of long con. Teddy didn’t like either option. Contempt twisted the very tips of their mouth, straightening the smile just enough to look off. Just a bit. “Got a lot on my plate today anyway, don’t know how long I can chat for.”

—

“I’d rather reach out to him myself.” The truth, even if it was still shrouded. The man had no intention of giving more than he got — or giving anything at all, really. If Jones gave him nothing, he’d give them even less. He didn’t think he’d left any of the people he’d spoken to with enough information to identify him or his motives — not when Mexico represented an entire country full of people that the hunter likely suspected wanted him dead. The man’s presence in this town would get to the hunter’s ears, if it hadn’t already. But what could anyone tell him? That there was someone asking questions? It would only feed into the hunter’s paranoia, not give him real answers. And that, the man thought, could be helpful. That could be vital.

He smiled tightly, making careful note of everything Jones said, every move they made. They called the hunter the big guy — a term of endearment? Their hand never left their pocket — was it the cold, or was there a weapon hiding there? And if it was the latter, did they know how to use it? Questions lingered, but he doubted he’d get more answers here. Jones was already pulling away. But that was okay. The man had plenty.

He nodded, never taking his eyes off Jones’s. “Well, I’m not trying to keep you. I can be on my way, if you’d like. But it was very nice chatting with you, Teddy.” It was the same move he’d pulled on the kid before; a simple thing to unnerve them. Letting them know that the man knew their name, even when they didn’t know his.

—

“Well that’s alright, I’ll let him know you popped by.” A hand slipped from Teddy’s pocket, though not the one brandishing a knife. No, something else with a shine all its own. The phone was an impulsive decision. The picture of the man, a dangerous risk. If it was just some guy, if he was just someone who didn’t matter, then this wouldn’t either. It was a strange act by a strange person who was barely a person to begin with. Ted flashed a smile alongside the phone’s quick lighting effect.

This guy did not want to be known. They could tell that much. Didn’t want to be known but clearly knew about Teddy. The picture was very likely to agitate him, maybe even goad into doing something stupid. Maybe that’s why they did it. Pleasant seeming chitchats could only get you so much. And the ex-demon was far too cocky in a potential fight for someone who was still getting used to their new human body.

Unless, ahh unless this whole mess was just a weird interaction and somehow wasn’t a prelude to something awful.

Teddy wondered a moment how it might look if they had gone somewhere in search of Emilio. What they would have said, what they would have done to find him. It occurred, however briefly, that caring about Emilio Cortez could just as easily appear (to someone else afflicted with the same condition) as a hostile thing. The way Teddy’s name left the man’s mouth, the way he approached with such a hook, something that would bring anyone in. It was… not too different from what they’d have done. It soured in Ted’s stomach, sinking like a stone. Didn’t know what to do with the information.

But the picture was taken, and the pleasant ‘ding!’ the phone chimed with was enough to tell anyone with a modern brain cell that something had been sent. Easy to assume where, they hoped. Even if they didn’t actually send it to Emilio, not yet. Better to make him think his upper hand was gone. No going back now. It was check, but not mate. Anxiety filled the space between the snap and the response. But their smile never faltered, not once.

“See you round, sir.”

—

Another conversation not quite as lucrative as he’d hoped for, but not quite as useless as he’d feared. All in all, the man was faring well. His questions were answered less in the things people said, and more in the things that they didn’t. Jones was holding out on him, but that was okay. That meant there was something to hold out. And that was information all its own.

All in all, it wasn’t bad. Wasn’t a waste, wasn’t something he regretted. At least, not until that damn phone came out. The man had been ready for a weapon. Part of him had been expecting it. A knife, a stake, anything the hunter might have given his housemate in some attempt to protect them from a world he knew far too much about. But a phone? The man hadn’t been expecting that. The camera snapped, something dinged, and the man acted out of instinct. A hand shot out, ripped the device from the hand that held it. He dropped it to the ground and smashed it with his heel in a fluid motion, destroying it as thoroughly as he knew how. But if Jones had sent their photo to the hunter…

It seemed the man’s timetable had just been moved up. He’d approach the hunter at the next available opportunity. There would be no more waiting.

He dug his heel into the concrete a little more, shattering what remained of the phone as if doing so would fix anything now. Jones was still smiling. Some childish, vindictive part of the man wanted to lash out, wanted to break more than just the phone beneath his heel, but… No. No, he couldn’t do anything that might fill the hunter with that righteous rage that only ever seemed to strengthen his resolve. If Jones needed to be dealt with, it would be done out of necessity, not anger. And it would be done later.

The man removed his foot from the ruined phone, eyes dark as he took a step away. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you sooner than you think,” he said. Was it meant as a threat? Even the man himself wasn’t sure. But… it was a departure, nevertheless. A goodbye. The moment it passed his lips, the man turned, slipped into the shadows, and disappeared into the night.

Tomorrow. He’d approach the hunter tomorrow. It was the only way he could maintain whatever upper hand he still had.

#eldritchaccident #teddy: interrogation #wickedswriting #posting this ahead of time bc i will be at movie night when the actual thread takes place LMAO

6 notes · View notes