Logs:Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up the other.

Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up the other.
Dramatis Personae Kitty, Leo	2022-05-21 "I want that. Not just the better world. You there with me in it."
Location <PRV> Kitty and Marinov's Apartment {Cathaus} - Lower East Side
This high ceiling, fourth floor apartment is on its way to being well lived in. The walls are a light cream colour, the spotless hardwood floors stained a rich red-brown. The door opens into the living room, always bright with natural light coming in the windows or the glow of the twin pink rock salt lamps nestled on the one of the sills. Small succulents and other resilient, cat-safe houseplants dot the windowsills and nearby surfaces – one on the low coffee table between the faux-leather couch and the television mounted on the wall, another on a ladder bookshelf squeezed into a corner. There are no rugs, nothing that can collect fur, but the couch and floor are both covered in pillows. On the wall opposite the television, there is a framed poster of the Cat’s Eye Nebula from an astrophysics conference. To the left of this space is a small kitchen, just large enough to fit two people in it, if one of them can walk through other people. To the right is a small hallway, leading to the washroom and two bedrooms. One of the bedroom doors has a small blue mezuzah on the doorframe, held in place with wall putty. Leo hasn't been back in the city very long -- in fact, it might have been exactly long enough to do some grocery shopping, some cooking, and get himself to the Lower East Side. He's still looking a bit underslept and a touch more rumpled than his usual polish, his daisy-yellow short sleeve button down and black jeans slightly wilted from running around in the heat. He's currently directing a good degree of fretting outward, aimed squarely at Kitty as he unloads a tote bag: chicken pancit, cassava cake, a large jar of calamansi lemonade. "-- don't think it's right for the cops to be bothering you, you didn't hurt anyone." Has Kitty changed since yesterday’s fiasco? It doesn’t seem so — there is a certain rumpledness to the stretchy fabric of her black leggings, to the folds of her faded blue GENY 2014 tee-shirt that suggests they had inadvertently become Bed Clothes. Her hair is tied in a messy bun at the crown of her head, already frizzing in the humidity. Her eyes are red and just a liiiiittle bit puffy still, the side of her right hand smeared with pen ink. She’s watching Leo unpack in a sort of hovering manner, arms crossed tightly around herself now that she’s gotten out the plates, the silverware, the glasses and set them to the other side of Leo’s spread. “I don’t think anyone got hurt, really,” she offers, her voice much more subdued than usual, “but like. Do the cops care?” One shoulder hitches up. “I don’t know how you deal with this. Not like, this exactly, but. The cops. The — “ Kitty gestures at her phone, currently abandoned on the windowsill, “— everything. Everyone talking about you. I thought I did before but.” Another shrug as Kitty worries at her lower lip. "I haven't noticed the police historically caring much about real harm." Leo makes this allowance with a deep frown. He folds the tote bag neatly once it is emptied but then just stares down at the food as though he's forgotten what step comes next. "Well. You know me, I have -- a very big ego, so that helps with -- rising above the harassment." His frown remains firmly cemented in place when he looks up from the table to Kitty. "This will blow over, though, right? Ryan will get drunk and punch a bigot at a protest or some poor kid will manifest catastrophically or -- and the news will move on to a new mutant punching bag." He sounds more hopeful than confident, but it is firmer when he adds: "And however I can make it less horrible in the meantime, I will try." Kitty at least knows this part: remove lid from jar, pour two glasses of lemonade. Load plates with pancit and fork (and on second thought, paper wrapped chopsticks) and set one in front of Leo with a small huff of amusement. “All that hot air has to be useful for something, right?” Her tone is light and teasing, but the small smile creeping over her face seems more tired than anything. There are more steps: Sink down onto a chair at the table with said implements and try, perhaps in vain, to twirl rice noodles around her fork like spaghetti. “I mean, probably? Like, at some point NYU isn’t going to care anymore but community memory is longer, you know? And in the community I don’t think I made a very good impression.” Her brows furrow as she takes her first bite, then smooth over with a delighted hum. “This definitely makes it less horrible.” Leo takes a seat in front of his plate, pausing for just a moment to bow his head in silence, cross himself after. He doesn't actually pick up his fork until after Kitty takes her first bite, sitting up just a little straighter when the food meets with her approval. "I'm so glad -- that you like it. I'm usually only cooking for myself, I wasn't sure..." This trails off, a very small smile on his face as he twirls himself up some noodles as well. Washes them down with a sip of lemonade. "The community? Who's --" His brows are slowly knitting once more. "People don't actually believe that nonsense in the Post, do they?" “It’s really good!” Kitty seems certain on this point despite the delay in responding (most of which was caused by her mouth being Full of More Noodles). “You really didn’t have to cook at all but…” There’s a faint flush over her cheeks now. “It’s nice that someone still, you know, likes me enough to cook for me.” The enthusiasm drains at the question -- when her answer comes it is trained pretty fixedly down at her plate. “I think people do believe it. The little bit of explaining I tried to do just made the Post seem… more right? To —“ A guilty glance towards Marinov’s room. “And to myself, I guess.” Pushes the fork among the noodles. "What would you have done? Your friend spontaneously becomes a skull fire monster in Times Square? I keep going over it trying to figure out what the right thing was because I guess it wasn't -- that." "I like you enough I will cook for you again," Leo promises. He studies Kitty quietly while her gaze is downturned. The tines of his fork tap lightly against his plate, and after a considerable contemplation he shakes his head slowly. "I'm -- not good in crises. I think..." He bridges his hesitation with another small bite of food. "I think sometimes there aren't a lot of right things. Let your friend stay to get shot by police? I don't see how that works out well either." “I thought I was good in a crisis. Maybe not this kind of crisis.” This is mumbled in between bites of noodles, still addressed pretty well to the sliver of carrot on the edge of her plate. Kitty shakes her head slowly. “Lucien seemed to think that would have been better, but — I couldn’t. Not after —“ the pause here is quick but distinct, a breathe hanging in the air before she changes tact, “— even if Robbie is what they’re saying, I don’t think I could have left him there. Is it so wrong,” she asks, suddenly impassioned when she looks up at Leo, expression pained, “to not want to lose any more friends?” Leo's shoulders tense in the space of that pause, his eyes lowering to his plate. "I would do a lot," he agrees softly, "to keep my friends safe." His fingers are squeezing tight around his fork though it's a moment more before he remembers to actually twirl up some noodles, and even then he doesn't eat them. "Do you think what they're saying is -- wrong? I mean -- I mean, if he is..." His brow creases. "It seems like a hard friend to have." “It’s — I think, I thought he wasn’t a racist — I’ve been to his work plenty of times with the car and he’s never done that at like. His Black co-workers or customers, other people on the street, I know I don’t get to be the arbitrator of what is or isn’t racism but it doesn’t make sense? Not that it makes it okay but —“ The fork clatters to the plate through Kitty’s grasp. “I think. He’s unwell. And lost control in a scary way. But I don’t know what I think counts for much.” She lays her arm on the table between them, palm up. Quiet. "I think I have to register, now. I don't know what that means for your safety. I think it's not. Good." "I think it must be scary. Having something like that inside you that you can't -- can't always control." Leo's hand has balled into a fist, but he relaxes it when Kitty extends her own hand. His touch is tentative, fingertips laid gentle against her wrist before he closes his hand against hers. He swallows hard at the mention of registration, gaze lifting back to Kitty's face. "I think the government -- already has a pretty good idea. How much to hate me. What does that mean for you?" “I guess they could follow me to you regardless, if they wanted to.” The brush of fingertips is along skin that feels fragile, barely there. Kitty’s hand solidifies when she squeezes back at Leo’s hand, warm and firm. “I don’t know? I know not registering gets me in trouble with the cops, the school, the government, but the other hand —“ Her free hand lifts to press against her collarbone, where a pendant should be — isn’t at this moment, to her apparent surprise — resting. “— what next, you know? Sera and — Marinov told me about the other world…” This trails off into another squeeze of Leo’s hand. “My grandfather — you would have liked him, I think, he was a bit like if Steve had Matt's humour and was Jewish and a bit crankier — he would say we should just -- go.” Leo's eyes track the movement of Kitty's hand, lingering at her collarbone. "I don't think there's any real safety to be found, in this country -- but I know I'd rather be together than alone, if they're going to be hunting us anyway." He squeezes back at her hand, his mouth setting into a grim line. "He'd probably be right, but -- where? My home is not..." He trails off here with a slow exhale. "There are so many places doing fascism right now, and America's reach -- I feel like here or somewhere else, at some point we'd have to fight it." "His plan did sort of rely on there being somewhere safe for us." Kitty's grip tightens just a touch around Leo's hand. "Fighting together is better than running alone, but…” Her free hand drops, gaze following it. “…I don’t want to fight. I just want to be here, with the people I —“ Kitty’s eyes flick up to Leo’s face, a small flush forming on her cheeks even as she finishes the sentence, “— love.” Leo meets Kitty's gaze, his own eyes widening. An echoing flush darkens his own tan cheeks, his head bowing slightly. "Oh," is just quiet, barely breathed out. "I want that, too. I just --" His shoulders sink very slightly. "I didn't know not fighting was an option. I don't know how else to make a world we can just -- be in." "I don't think it is an option anymore. Maybe it never was and I was being naive." There's a slight chill at the edges of Leo's hands where Kitty squeezes, her solid form seeming to flicker in and out. "I love you," she says, a little quieter, "if that wasn't -- I'm sorry if that's too soon. I've just been thinking about -- everything. Everyone. Who I want to make a new world with." "I don't think it's naive to be hopeful. I --" Leo looks down at their hands at the faint chill, and squeezes right back. "No, it's not -- it's." He stops, brows furrowing as he considers his words. "Please don't be sorry. The world is -- I don't know how we get through this except for with the people we love. Except for thinking about the world we could have together." His eyes lower shyly, a small smile briefly touching his lips. "... you want to build that world with me?" "Yes." Where Leo's gaze lowers Kitty's intensifies, the shy, anxious edge of her earlier confession burning away with the conviction in her voice, even if there is still a slight tremor in her delivery. "Everyone around me has been trying to build for such a long time, I can't -- not walk beside you all anymore, I -- even if you don't love me that doesn't change that I want to build a better world with you." Leo's eyes are a little wider, a faint flush lingering in his cheeks. For a moment the words hang between them, cradled in a warm silence. He breaks the stillness by leaning closer, closing the gap to give Kitty a soft kiss. "I want that." His voice is quiet but assured when he breaks off. "Not just the better world. You there with me in it." The kiss is returned warmly, one hand steadying Kitty’s lean forward on Leo’s shoulder. Her forehead presses against Leo’s when he breaks away, eyelids fluttering closed. Pulls herself through the table to close the distance between them, not quite settling herself in his lap when she does so. “With me.” The repetition is one part wondering, one part affirmation, tinged with adoration and affection in the breath before she presses her lips against Leo’s.