enodia_ic | (no subject)

Who: Jack Jung & Whit Woolwine III
When: August 16
Where: COSTCO!
What: Whit and Jack gossip over a feast for gods (Costco food court items)
Warnings: None

After an arduous and at times dangerous journey through Costco, Jack and Whit are feasting. The spread: four hot dogs, four enormous slices of pepperoni pizza, one churro the length of Jack’s forearm, and two strawberry soft-serve sundaes between them.

“I think that’s enough,” Jack says. He sets their tray down at a secluded table, tucked away from where everyone is barreling each other down with their Mini Cooper-sized shopping carts. “And we can always get more if it’s not.” He sits down and looks at Whit with an expectant smile.

Whit gasps with excitement and gratitude. "This is the best day of my life!" he says, and in the moment, he means it sincerely—a day trip to eat a delicious snack buffet with a friend… what could possibly be any better?

"I can't thank you enough, Jack. This is so nice," he adds, digging into his sundae without much regard for his dignity.

"It's Costco," Jack replies. He's holding a napkin above one slice of pizza, looking back and forth between the napkin and the healthy amount of grease atop the pizza like he's about to dab at it. But, he thinks, life is about oils, actually—so he puts the napkin down and goes to town. Around a bite of pizza (though he at least has the grace to cover his mouth with his free hand): "Of course it's nice."

He couldn't keep an eye on Whit the entire time they were in the store, since he was dodging stray elbows and the threat of being backed into by small, livid children, so he's not sure if Whit was made to feel unwelcome at any point during their Costco run. Jack wants to ask Whit, but knows in doing so, he'd likely make it all worse if something did happen to Whit. So he decides to focus on a safer topic instead: Enodia Station gossip. "Did you ever find out if Eureka is into stickers?"

Whit, meanwhile, had been too overwhelmed by the sensory overload of it all to take much notice of whether any normal people had noticed him and all his Liminal idiosyncrasies. It was refreshing, in a way, to have Too Much of everything else to take his mind off of feeling self-conscious for a change. The hot dogs will taste that much better for being the reward at the end of an arduous—but exciting!—journey.

"You know what? I never did get around to asking them, but they did ask me about cardstock weights, so I don't know if that means anything," Whit muses, still fairly sure that he had just been a provider of plus ones, nothing more.

Jack mostly loiters in Whit's shop to look at stickers, though he also enjoys inspecting the fancy papers, feeling their weight and texture. When you can't really touch people, you get your tactile pleasures from other sources. "I'm not sure either, but that's pretty cool of them, right?" Cardstock weights are significant to Jack, so Eureka's assumed interest in them strikes him as a positive development. "I think it means they like talking to you."

"It is pretty cool! But then I got talking about business cards and seed paper, so I may have gone so overboard that I went back into 'excruciatingly boring' territory… but it's okay. It was a nice time. Things can just be a nice time without having to be anything more," Whit says without much regret. He'd had low expectations, so he wasn't too disappointed in how the night had turned out. Just having anyone to go to an event with at all had been great. He reaches for a slice of pizza and segues back into Enodia gossip that isn't about himself.

"I was pleasantly surprised by some of the other couples, though—and they all seemed like they were having fun," Whit comments lightly before taking a bite of his pepperoni slice. "Did you have fun?"

Jack mostly had fun, except when Annie wandered off to talk to her friends and then came back looking slightly upset. He’d rather not talk about that, though; other couples are a safer topic. “Yeah—although I kind of figured there was maybe something going on with Crysta and Zeke.” Call it Jack's not-quite-brotherly intuition. That and observing them all but draped over each other. “Rory and Rufus I did see coming.” He tilts his head, trying to recall the other ‘new’ couples, though he’s not surprised Whit is more observant. “Who else did you see?”

"I saw both of those—I'm happy for them! They're cute together! Minty and Noah were looking very stylish together, although I'm not sure if they're a couple or just friends? I also saw Podcast Kyle and Phlebotomist Mona making out near the bathrooms, which was unexpected, to say the least?" Whit lowers his voice as though he's about to reveal a great secret, and adds, "I also saw Britta Dworak reject HR Eric by that big potted fern, so I guess not everyone was having a good time."

“Good for Britta,” Jack nods. He actually has no stakes in this melodrama other than the fact that Britta occasionally orchestrates last-minute vacation days for him, but he trusts her judgment and that she knows what she wants. Which is not HR Eric, whoever that may be.

“Did you see the portrait gallery? That picture of Gavin—he looks different from how I expected.” Jack didn’t think it was possible for someone to look that heroic. His previous understanding of Gavin was sourced from Crysta’s teenage memory, and even that was dark and shadowy, Gavin more a suggestion than a person. “I wonder if that was shocking for…” He trails off, now reluctant to finish his sentence. “You know.”

Whit nods, then sighs. "I did see it. And he really did look like that—real 'Hero' energy. I never knew him well, but I did see him around before—you know," he says, with a regretful little smile. "I doubt they were expecting to see that portrait of him there; I can't imagine what they must feel about that whole thing." Whit has never lost anyone close to him in such a manner, but he knows that it must be difficult, especially when the loss in question is so public.

"It must have been a surprise for Parson as well," Whit adds, sympathetic.

“He went with Raine one night, didn’t he?” Jack phrases this like a question, although he knows the convoluted truth of it from Annie. Phrasing it like a question better communicates his sense of confusion about it, the crossed lines between Enoch and Raine and Parson and the ghost that may live behind Parson’s eyes. Phrasing it like a question also invites the opinion of Whit, who Jack figures has seen more than he lets on. “It’s strange.”

Whit nods affirmatively, happy his constant observations of the people around him are finally coming in handy. "He did! Although I also thought Raine and Enoch were together for a bit—Raine's quite popular, isn't he? Good for him," Whit says, and then lowers his voice even though there is nobody in Costco who would know or care about the people he's talking about. "It all seems a bit messy, no offense." But he's smiling, because he loves mess, especially when it's none of his business.

As a rule, Jack loves mess, too. Except this mess involves 75% of Annie's friend group—so if things go south, he imagines navigating the aftermath will be tough for her. And he cares about Enoch and Raine and Parson, as a trio and as individuals: Enoch with his inscrutably barbed ways of moving through the world; Raine with his inscrutably barbed laconicism; and Parson, who Jack thinks is barbed through no fault of his own.

Still, he tries to match Whit's smile, not wanting to bring the mood down. He also matches Whit's lowered tone of voice. "Raine and Enoch were together, although I don't know how long. I guess Enoch told Raine to go with Parson. But I also heard that Parson and Gavin used to see each other." Jack squints around another bite of pizza. "Were you around for that?

"Oh, I meant I saw them together at the party. But I think they were together-together too, before Gavin… passed away. It's interesting that Enoch would set his ex up with his brother's ex? Parson and Gavin did previously see each other—it's all so tragic, really. I was here for that. I got here in 2021, and he died in 2022. I wasn't very social at first, so I really didn't get the chance to get to know Gavin, but a lot of people seemed to love him," Whit says, detached enough from the situation that he's absolved himself of responsibility of doing anything more than gleaning surface info. He likes everyone involved and wants them to be happy, but ultimately, it's none of his business. He's just an observer, nothing more, although he does like to try to put together pieces of a puzzle.

Jack shakes his head. Enoch setting his ex up with his brother’s ex seems precisely like something Enoch would do, just to see what would happen, testing people. Jack used to think Enoch was immune to things like emotional injury or having to shoulder a sense of deprivation—but now he suspects that Enoch does indeed feel those things. Maybe, Jack thinks, Enoch wants to test himself.

“Dating at Enodia seems like a nightmare,” Jack mutters, as if he’s exempt from the workplace dating category. In fact, were he to really to consider his situation, what he’s embarking on with Annie has the potential to be nightmarish. He’ll be her husband before he was ever even her boyfriend, at least in any real sense. He sets his slice of pizza down and stirs his sundae, a little listlessly. “Were you seeing anyone?” he asks. “Before?” Jack isn’t sure if he means ‘before the station shutdown’ or 'before your powers.' He supposes he means both.

Dating at Enodia does seem like a nightmare, but it's not something that Whit has any firsthand experience of. Despite his best efforts, his smile falters.

"I had a boyfriend before I became… you know, but nobody since," Whit confesses, looking wistful. "I broke it off because I wanted to spare him all of this. I'm sure he's dating someone normal now."

Whit falls silent. A pause.

"What about you? You and Annie were doing the long distance thing before you got here?"

Jack stalls before he answers—he feels like he should say something to acknowledge that Whit once had a person, but felt like he had to give him up. Words seem cheap, though, given the enormity of what Whit just revealed and the way Whit's expression falls. Jack actually knows how Whit feels, maybe not exactly, but something like it: it feels like you've been hollowed out, when you think it's better for everyone else if you hold yourself apart from them. After a moment, Jack splits the churro unevenly and awkwardly slides the larger piece over to Whit's side of the table.

"We were long-distance for a bit. Actually, I only did long-distance before Annie," Jack says. He half glances up at Whit, as if he wanted to check Whit's reaction then thought better of it, before looking back down at his pizza. "It's not perfect, obviously," he adds, lightly and conversationally, "Long distance, I mean. But it sort of hits the 'human connection' spot when you feel like you need it." Finally, Jack dabs at his pizza with a napkin, fruitlessly now that much of the oil has congealed over the course of their conversation. "Maybe you should try it. If things had been good with your ex, it's worth at least saying hey."

Whit accepts the consolation churro as he tries to fix his expression—he's fine! It's fine! It was a long time ago and he's not bothered by it!. He manages to smile and act Normal, not wanting to bring down the mood. Jack didn't need to hear his sob story—he was getting married! He was getting a happy ending! Whit loved that for him!

"Wait, only long distance?" he asks, picking up on that little tidbit a beat too late. He isn't sure whether Jack means he did this on purpose or that it just happened that way, so he leaves the question open-ended so that Jack can clarify as much—or as little—as he wishes to.

Regarding Jack's (admittedly lovely!) suggestion, Whit is quick to dissuade him. "I'm sure it works out for a lot of people, but I don't think it would be fair of me to contact him after so long. I can never go back there, and it's been five—six? years, so he's undoubtedly moved on. It would be selfish on my part. If you love someone, let them go, isn't that what they say? He deserves the best, and I am decidedly not that," Whit says with that same superficial smile, as though he's already given himself this speech countless times before. "He was delightful, though. I think you would have liked him."

"I'm sure," Jack replies. He doesn't look sure, but his uncertainty stems from the fixed, slightly unnatural look to Whit's smile. He'd like to ask Whit more about this mystery man, who was so delightful Whit couldn't bear to see if he'd stay, who Whit loved—but he senses he's not meant to know much more than what Whit has already told him. Too painful for Whit to recollect, maybe, and Jack can sympathize. It's just a little funny, Jack thinks, that Whit is so curious about other people: he asks you how your day went, your interests, your favorite stickers, but is careful with what he doles out about himself. This unevenness is upsetting, but solely in the sense that it's upsetting Whit seems to think it's necessary, the same way it's upsetting that Whit thought it was necessary to break it off with his ex, believing he was undeserving.

Jack decides to remain obscure about his own dating history—it's no longer important—to probe the edges of what Whit doesn't say: "For a minute, it seemed like you were trying online dating. Did you ever set up a purpl account?"

Whit sighs, remembering how hopeful he'd felt in that moment, and how quickly he'd come crashing back to reality. "No, I chickened out. It sounded like the best I could hope for was to be objectified by creepy creature chasers, but I don't think that's really my scene," he says with a grimace, though he's quick to add, "Not that there's anything wrong with that, if that's what people are into!" He wouldn't want Jack to think he was kinkshaming any of their coworkers, since statistically-speaking, it was probably likely some of their colleagues were hoping to get railed by a werewolf, or something close to it.

Jack doesn’t think Whit is kink-shaming anyone. He squints, frowning lopsidedly, feeling more than a little responsible for Whit coming away from that conversation thinking his future would be satisfying the one-night fetish of successive strangers. “I get that,” Jack says, again trying to sound light, “that not being your scene, I mean.” (He is not among the statistical few, or many, hoping to be railed by a werewolf.) “You can still meet people the old-fashioned way.” His expression changes, brightening. “I could be your wingman. I’m pretty good at that.”

"I'm sure you are! But I couldn't make you do that. Do you get secondhand embarrassment as much as I do? If you do, I think that would be torture for you," Whit says apologetically, just picturing how awkward it would be meeting anyone in person and then immediately having to disclose that he's not-quite-human, and not even in a cool way.

“Not really,” Jack replies. When he sees something wild happening to someone else, he just goes, ‘Zoinks,’ or ‘Yoikes,’ or if it’s really balls to the wall bad, hits ‘em with a, ‘Damn, that’s crazy.’ And then he either sees what he can do to help or keeps it moving. Which is what Whit is doing with this conversation—Jack understands his offer to wingman has been gently but permanently declined.

"Do people date a lot in boarding schools?" Whit asks instead. "At least there, everyone knows you're in the same boat—or at least a similar boat."

“Jesus,” Jack laughs. “Uh, yeah. I mean I didn’t, because—” (he thought he might accidentally liquefy his unlucky partner, but he’s trying to keep things light) “—I had Recycling Club. People were all over each other, though. Annie used to host make-out parties, actually. Which I think is deranged.” He says this last part with such a beatific smile that it seems like he actually thinks the opposite.

Whit is incapable of hiding his look of surprise. "Wow, I didn't realize parties like that actually happened in real life? I thought they were just made up for teen movies. Or maybe I just didn't get invited to any?" He pauses and ponders. He supposes he'll never know.

Then, because he's failed to detect Jack's topic swerve: "Recycling Club though, eh? I was in that, too. I was in the local paper once for picking up the most recyclables along the river."

“Were you really?” Jack leans forward excitedly, smacking both palms flat on the table. “Were you a do-gooder? A goth do-gooder who watched The Crow and hung out at the mall?” He finds this vision of young Whit (which, admittedly, he just invented right now) to be very charming.

Whit chuckles at this. "Actually, yes? My mother thought it would be good PR. I was on the front page of the Bismarck Gazette in a long sleeved black and white striped sweater and a pair of Hot Topic bondage pants during a heat wave. It was terrible. Hilarious and terrible. They gave me a plaque," Whit grins, not above poking fun at his former cringeworthy self.

“Oh man,” Jack laughs, “I used to do that, too. Long sleeves in the heat. I used to get in trouble for it, actually, my teachers thought I was going to get a heat stroke. But Green Day, you know?” He tries to picture Whit looking maybe a little sullen after his PR stunt—sweaty, too. The price of maintaining a constant aesthetic.

“We would have been friends for sure. Two perspiring recyclers.” Jack feels wistful, wishing he’d known Whit for longer, but they’re friends now at least. Or something close to friendship, whatever it is that moves you to go to Costco with someone and split a churro.

"Green Day," Whit nods knowingly. He understands. Jack gets him. "Also Two Perspiring Recyclers could have been a great band name. So many missed opportunities! We could have hung out and picked up pop cans and not gone to make-out parties." He smiles fondly at Jack, suddenly nostalgic for a time that never was.

“We can still have a band, cover Green Day or something.” Jack stirs his sundae. “I’ll play the drums badly. And we’re definitely not being invited to any make-out parties at the Station, so we can cross that off the list. All that’s left is for us to get those claw grabbers and walk around looking for crushed cans.