xp_logs | Arthur & Haller | Inner Children

Arthur takes Felix for a walk and meets Davey.

"Can I pet your dog?"

Arthur, leash in hand, paused to crane his head up to where that slightly sing-song voice came from. It was a figure, not entirely recognizable, silhouetted against the early afternoon sunlight. He shuffled that leash as Felix, all golden floof, sat obediently at heel why a thump thump thump of an equally floofy tail made his intentions clear.

"Of course," the man replied cheerfully up toward the branches. His expression was soft and curious. "Felix can't climb trees, though. No matter how much he barks."

Felix, for his part, paused thumping in what may have been a moment of indignation at the joke. Only for a moment. Thump thump thump again.

"Be right down!" There was a flurry of rustling leaves, and a second later a lanky figure lowered itself from the tree. For a moment he dangled from his fully extended arms, legs swinging, and then dropped the last few feet to the ground. Without preamble, David Haller's body immediately made a bee line for the golden retriever.

"I haven't got to pet a dog in forever," said Davey, his excitement palpable. He held out a hand for Felix to sniff and beamed at Arthur with wide blue eyes. "How old is he?"

"Oh!" There was a brief flash of processing, like a glitch, before Arthur quickly self corrected. This was... well, Haller and Arthur Centino had experienced something together that shed a little light on what was happening just now, but the relaxed nature of Arthur's posture and the pleasantness of his demeanor was that of a man not prone to snap judgements even in the weirdest of scenarios.

Everyone loved dogs. It was natural.

"Felix and I met forever ago! I have no idea. He's my little old man."

Felix, immune to the prospect of being described in anything less than a flattering light himself, eagerly pressed a nose to Davey's hand, following with a polite lick. Thump thump thump.

"Little old man," Davey repeated, taking the lick as an invitation to lean forward and bury his face in the dog's neck. Like many golden retrievers, Felix took the invasion of personal space as an excuse to double down and started enthusiastically licking Davey's ear. The alter shrieked with surprised laughter, the sound strange coming from Haller's throat.

"You've met Felix, of course, but I'm Arthur." An opening gambit as Arthur's thoughts circled like the dog's tail. "What's your name?"

"Davey," was the simple reply. Felix had rolled over to display his shaggy belly, and the alter was diligently administering tummy rubs. Now that his face was out of the golden's fur it was easy to see the muddy brown streaks left by damp bark. His expression was still happy, but there was a new tightness around his mouth that suggested a touch of hesitation.

"I know you, I guess?" Davey asked, his attention still fixed on the dog. "I haven't got to meet anyone new in forever, either. I guess maybe we met when David was someone else."

"I don't think I know David, but it is delightful to meet you! I'm Jim's friend." Was he? Arthur had a very loose and 'buy the world a coke' view of friendship, complimented by a firm belief that everyone was just a potential friend he would eventually unlock like a video game achievement. Jim was a friend. Guaranteed.

"We're all David. Jim's just in charge." The answer was as matter-of-fact as it was unhelpful. Davey snuck another look at Arthur and nodded to himself, as if coming to a conclusion. "Yeah. Sorry I don't remember you. It's because I can't see what he does like everyone else. But I don't get to talk to anybody unless Jim thinks they're safe." The alter paused again, one hand still combing through the soft golden fur of Felix's chest.

"This is the first time I've gotten to talk to anybody other than Dad and Moira since we came back," Davey said at last. He looked back up at Arthur, and his voice was almost wistful. "You must be nice."

"Oh, that clears things up!" It didn't, but Arthur wasn't here (at the mansion, on earth, existing) to sweat the details. Those details usually either didn't matter or mattered too much to stay safely in the category of details and moved their way straight up to problem territory.

Felix bounced happily up, circling around his master to only be right back in Haller's reach, playful for more scritches.

"Thank you," the man offered back, "I'm glad I get to meet you! I haven't met Moira yet, but maybe I know your dad?"

Davey, leaning back on the balls of his hands to allow Felix to snuffle at his face, let out a laugh. "Charles is my dad! You better know him, you only live in his house. He lives on Muir with Moira now, though, so I only see him on calls."

"Oh. *Oh.*" Several, quick images based behind Arthur's eyes like something cycling through their vacation slideshow. Broken glass. A face in a mirror. 'David, my son.' He blinked a few times to recenter before raising his eyebrows, impressed. "That means you could run things here one day. Don't worry, though, they say hair loss comes from your mother's side."

Davey nodded earnestly. "That's what Moira said too. I hope so. My head's shaped too weird to be bald. Hey, do you have powers?" He'd begun scratching Felix's hips near the base of his tail, and the golden retriever was shifting his weight from one leg to the other with evident enjoyment. "Dad has powers. He teaches other people how to use them. I don't have any but he taught Jim and them. Can you do anything?"

The relief that slid across Arthur's face at an easy answer made his entire demeanor brighten. He playfully waggled his fingers in the air, gesturing toward his face. "I'm lucky! And when I'm lucky my eye glows."

This seemed to pique the boy's interest. "Lucky like how?" he asked curiously. "Can you show me something? How lucky are you? Like, are you lucky like you win the lottery a lot, or are you lucky like sometimes you find loose change in your couch? Can we buy scratchers tickets?"

Well, scratch that look of relief. "If I really want something, the world moves just a tiny bit for me. But it is like eating too much sugar, right? Too much and no one feels great after, and you're hoarding all the candy instead of sharing. But..."

He produced a folding knife from his back pocket, twirling it in the light. "It comes in really handy for throwing knives."

Like many children, Davey had a fascination with sharp, shiny objects. The alter rained bits of dust and loose dog hair as he scrambled to his feet. "Cool!" he exclaimed, seeming to experience no cognitive dissonance from the fact he stood four inches taller than the South African. "Okay, yeah, show me that."

Arthur, consummate showman, lifted the offered blade up. Maybe a little higher than usual, but this wasn't his first performance. "But what's so great about one knife? What about?" And with a flourish, there were now five knives.

Flick.

A single knife went flying, embedding itself elegantly into a nearby tree stump.

Arthur, eyes locked on Davey, grinned wide and passed his other hand over his eyes before beginning to slowly spin in place. Flick, speed building, flick, flick, now it was dizzying, flick.

Every knife landed, perfectly, to create a perfect diamond surrounding the original.

Felix, tail swinging with canine pride, trotted to Arthur's side while Davey ran to the stump to observe the man's handiwork. "That's cool," he grinned, glancing from Arthur to the diamond and back again. Then, with the slightly worrying curiosity of someone to whom social niceties were still a vague guideline, the alter squatted down to examine the blades more closely. "Sooo . . . if I threw a knife at your head, what would happen? It'd miss, right?"

Davey got a raised eyebrow in response. "Have you ever thrown a knife before?"

"Nope! Does it matter?"

"The first step in knife throwing is knife safety."

"Don't hold the sharp part?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he battled to determine if Davey had jokes. "The first step is understanding that all blades should be used with caution, care, responsibility, and most importantly, respect."

The alter made a face. "I know that. I'm not going to stab anyone." Davey paused, then amended, "On purpose."

This got a chuckle, but the following "Go ahead" was completely deadpan. Arthur made a beckoning motion.

Davey's eyes widened with hope. "Really?" he asked, hardly daring to believe. "Throw one at you? Are you sure?"

"Show me your best."

Davey grinned, then shot out his hand to wiggle a knife free from the stump. He sprung to his feet and motioned the dog over. "Felix, here. Sit." The golden ambled to him and took a seat in the indicated place. "Good dog, stay." Davey stepped around him so Felix and his lack of preternatural luck wouldn't be at risk for a stray knife, or at least he wouldn't unless Davey managed a really impressive screw up.

Hefting the knife in the same way he'd seen Arthur hold it, Davey hesitated. It looked a lot more real with a little piece of bark still clinging to the blade.

"Lucky," the alter muttered. "Right."

He threw the knife at Arthur.

It flew high and wide, spinning end over end until reaching its final destination several feet short of its target. Arthur, smiling encouragingly, offered, "Well, that's not bad for a first time!"

Davey made a face as he reached back to pat Felix's greying head. "It doesn't count as lucky if I suck," he complained. He looked back at the blond, hopeful. "Can you teach me how to do it right?"

"I would be more than happy to! If you will agree to listen and practice."

"Really?" Davey traded an incredulous grin with Felix, who responded in the same way he responded to everything: enthusiastic wagging. He scrambled over to where the knife had buried itself decisively into the dirt and fetched it back to Arthur.

"Okay," Davey said, "what do I do?" He was looking at the stuntman with wide, trusting blue eyes. There was a streak of dirt where he'd swiped one hand across his sweaty forehead.

Arthur didn't respond immediately, instead carefully considering that streak of dirt on Haller's head. "I'm not just lucky. Davey, I can see things when I touch stuff. Can I try to see you? I get the feeling that there's something I am missing, and everyone deserves to be really seen."

The alter gave him a puzzled look, but nodded. "Sure, okay," Davey said. He glanced at the knife in his hand, then quickly lowered it to his side and clear of Arthur. Safety first.

A glove came off. There was none of the hesitancy from before, or any sign of apprehension. Just the same, steady smile.

"Now, just let me..."

A flash.

An image barely older than the present. He watched from the tree as a blond man approached with a blond dog, breath held as he waited for that thing in his chest that told him whether he was going to stay or go. He waited, but it never came. His face flushed with excitement. He was happy. After months of nothing more than long-distance calls, he was just so happy to find someone to talk to. His mouth opened to call out.

But below this memory flashed fragments of others, like fish in a clouded pond. Footsteps echoing in the stairwell of a rotting building. A woman silhouetted against a city skyline. A woman unconscious and sickly yellow under the lights of the Medlab. His throat, sour and raw from vomiting.

Little flashes like embers drifting from a bonfire. Flaring brightly then winking out, until once again only happiness remained.

"Hey, your eye flashed!"

Said eye squinted, registering the figure before him. The figure that stood there was superimposed over David Haller like projection, but where there should have been just a tall, gangly man was now a round-faced ten year old with messy black hair and bright blue eyes. The similarities between the two figures didn't line up evenly. "Davey" wasn't a younger version of the man Arthur knew, but could have been a brother or cousin.

The figure sat still and polite, but every so often the after image shifted — a man throwing a knife, a boy sitting in a tree, an impossible figure with ten arms all grasping in different directions, Durga unfolding from lotus to encompass the universe, that boy petting Felix — as the psychic ghost's form twinged in white or red. Like a glitch.

Arthur shook his head and broke contact. His eye itched like it did when his powers flared, but letting go had killed that sensation immediately.

"Huh," was all the man could add as his mind worked to shuffle away all of the extra thoughts and emotions that were not his own, "Davey. I like your haircut."

"Thanks!" Davey said, oblivious to his status as a minor instrument of psychic terrorism. "I like that you're teaching me how to throw knives. Did you just make me lucky or something?"

He laughed, which might have been odd considering the level of psychic baggage Arthur had just been exposed to. Like a live-wire. Yet if Arthur Centino was good at anything, it was compartmentalizing things into their simplest, most positive forms.

"No, no. That was a little trick Jim taught me." Technically true. "I wanted to see what I was working with, but I'm sure it will help you do knife tricks faster." Also true, after a fashion. Arthur beamed, "Now we get to cover the basics. There's so much more about blade handling to cover, but the most important part is..."