for Rat

[silenttrainbaby]

It isn't as if Grey has found a sense of peace in the two days since he's seen Rat. He hasn't found the solution, an answer to his existential crisis. But he remembers where Rat lives. And, carrying the cat once again, he finds his way to the building and to the door and he taps his fingers against it. There were flowers on the side of the walk as he'd come here and he plucked them and they are already starting to wilt, even as the cat tries to eat them. Silly cat.

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[silenttrainbaby]

Even as the mouse stares, the cat continues to hiss, though oddly, the intensity of the hissing seems to start to fade. Almost as if the cat is getting bored with hissing at the house. Stay there, mouse, and maybe things will be all right.

Grey watches this, almost amused.

[plaguedrat]

"A mouse and a cat. They're fated never to trust one another...but these two had better make peace," Rat says, ever so slightly warning the cat with tap to the nose.

[silenttrainbaby]

Blinking in surprise at being booped on the nose so indignantly, the cat bats (claws in) at Rat's finger. A little respect, please!

Petting down his back, Grey smiles again. In that moment, the cat once again reminds him of Edgar.

Haughty look in place, the cat lays down his head again. As long as the mouse kept in his own space, they'd be fine, he seems to say.

[plaguedrat]

Rat smirks a little, the faintest suggestion of a smile, but accepting the cat's demand and smoothing things over with a vigorous scratch to the ears.

It's comfortable, he thinks, curling up on his sofa with Grey and the cat and mouse. It's strange to consider.

[silenttrainbaby]

It is comfortable. Comfortable enough that Grey eventually shifts, moving to face Rat, his cast hugged to his chest, knees pulled up (the cat shifting with a meow), eyelids pleasantly heavy. It doesn't occur to him that he should leave, that he might be overstaying his welcome.

[plaguedrat]

Rat doesn't much care. He has nowhere to be and, honestly, he feels like he could drowse off right now himself.

[silenttrainbaby]

With his bandaged hand, Grey reaches out, touching Rat's cheek. His fingers are still rough, most likely, from the train. Rat's cheek, though, is soft.

[plaguedrat]

It's a soft gesture, tender in a way that makes him wonder what prompted it. Is Grey looking for something or someone to fill the Gilliam-shaped void in his life?

[silenttrainbaby]

Not at this moment, no. He's just touching because Rat's cheek needed to be touched, like the cat's ears need petting. Grey blinks slowly, giving Rat a small smile.

It's so quiet here, so peaceful.

[plaguedrat]

If Grey were to make that known, Rat would wrinkle his nose and react rather like the cat at the notion that he needs affection. Grey, however, he thinks Ray could accept.

[silenttrainbaby]

Because of being raised on the train, most likely, Grey's ideas of identity are skewed. The cat has as much selfhood as Rat does, as Grey does.

Everyone, too, needs affection: Grey does. He catches Rat's fingers with his, settling them on his knee.

[plaguedrat]

He tips his head a little, uncertain of what they're doing or moving toward, but Rat makes no motion to move away or out of that touch.

He's just not sure of why.

[silenttrainbaby]

This is nice, just this. Grey takes a deep breath and settles again.

[plaguedrat]

It is. As nice as the quiet moments he'd had only briefly in his old home.

"Should I keep reading?"

[silenttrainbaby]

Grey nods: if Rat feels like it, yes. Grey wants to see what comes next.

[plaguedrat]

He could read for hours, filling up the silence with stories. They'd been a balm in the West District, an escape. A chance at something beautiful in a world that verged on barbaric.

[silenttrainbaby]

So, that is how Grey falls asleep, listening to Rat read about the adventures of Bilbo and the dwarves as they attempt escape from the Orcs. He isn't even aware he does it, simply falling asleep as one would turn off a light.

[plaguedrat]

Rat notices the evening out of Grey's breath and the relaxing of his body; between him and the cat, he's trapped. For a second, he reaches out, hand hovering over Grey's cheek before he redirects himself, turning on the lamp and setting aside The Hobbit for Paradise Lost.

[silenttrainbaby]

Curtis's couch is comfortable enough, but Grey doesn't sleep well there. Here, where he's comfortable, he sleeps as silently as he does anything else and it is three hours before he feels a numbness of his hip that makes him move, waking him up.

He blinks slowly.

[plaguedrat]

Rat is still there, unaware that he's squinting a little in the changing light. Wrapped up in the poem, he's barely looked up, letting Grey sleep.

[silenttrainbaby]

Grey has to move, to let that hip get some feeling back to it; he shifts then settles again, the cat on his chest. He watches Rat, the intensity with which he reads.

[plaguedrat]

"You fell asleep," he says, marking the book and laying it aside. "It's almost six."

[silenttrainbaby]

Time, Grey was learning, was measured by the sun rising and setting: he didn't have a watch, didn't see the point of it.

Should he leave? He cocked his head in question.

[plaguedrat]

"You left your food with me, the other day," Rat says, a thinly veiled offer. "I sill have it."

[silenttrainbaby]

The food! Oh, how Grey's eyes light up at that. Yes, please. The food, please.