[for Blaine]

[notgoingtorun]

There appeared to be another epidemic of Island Weird going on. Or, at least, some sort of mass confusion. There seemed to be a lot more concerned whispering going on, at any rate, and Neal was a professional at concerned whispers. Neal largely kept his mouth shut about things, all the better to slide under the radar, but he noticed everything. It was part of his job, even if he didn't have a job here anymore.

He sat in the rec room, trying to ignore whatever weirdness was going on, and instead flipped through the pages of an art book he'd found lurking on the shelves. It was a book of Warhol paintings, and he wasn't the greatest fan of Warhol, but it was better than nothing. The bookshelf mostly tried to give him heavy texts on criminal law, anyway.

Mostly, though, Neal looked longingly at the pool table. He tried to stay away from it, but sometimes it called his name. Neal was just so tired of pretending to be someone that he wasn't -- oh, sure Neal Caffrey as a concept was someone he wasn't, but he'd never chosen to give up things he knew and loved just to keep from attracting attention. He was already being risky with his work at the casino -- no one just learned to deal cards the way he did for fun, and he and Trixa both knew it.

Trying to pass himself off as a mediocre pool player just wasn't going to happen, so he ignored the table for now, and instead flipped past another page of soup cans. Maybe next time, the bookshelf would give him something a little more classic.

Comments

[thewarbler]

Maybe it is just a game, Blaine thinks. Not a lesson. Maybe, like everyone else keeps saying, this place just likes to mess with people for no reason at all.

Somehow, that really doesn't make him feel better at all.

Blaine's lips twist into an awkward sort of smile at Victor's offer before he shakes his head. "I don't know," he confesses. "This is nice. Just talking. It's weird, though. Because... everyone I can't remember here, they're all someone I knew back home. But I still remember that you look like my brother. I remember him. And other people from back home, too. It's just some pieces that are fuzzy. It's... kind of scary, honestly."

[notgoingtorun]

"I can only imagine," Neal said. "It was strange enough to arrive here without knowing anyone, to have that all taken away..." He shook his head. "You've got it much more together than I would, I'll give you that. Or, you're just very, very talented at making it look like you're keeping pretty cool about it." Neal knew he'd be able to fake it, he could fake just about anything, but the inner turmoil would be a lot to take.

"Well, I am excellent at just talking, if you need distractions or... you know, time to not think about the weird things this place does."

[thewarbler]

Blaine's lips curve into a somewhat pained smile at that. He can't say he's been taking it exceptionally well, but he thinks he's probably taking it better than the people he can't remember. It's uncomfortable knowing there are people who know things about him he doesn't remember sharing, but he imagines it's nothing compared to having a friend not remember him.

If nothing else, though, Blaine feels lonely. And out of place in a way he hasn't in a very long time.

With a soft breath, Blaine rests his hands in his lap and shrugs. "Tell me something about you, maybe?" he says, quiet and curious. "I mean, I know you're from New York and you're an excellent toe artist, but like... I don't know. Do you have any family? Friends?"

[notgoingtorun]

He couldn't help but crack a smile at the reference to toe drawing. It was absurd, and hilarious, but also one of the few utterly carefree times Neal had had in recent memory. Usually, he had the long shadow of his past crimes, his lies, lurking over him, so it had been nice to just forget that all and have fun for once.

"Well, let's see," he said, slouching back in his chair as he went through his mental stack of information on Victor Moreau's alleged life. "I'm an only child, mom and dad live in upstate New York. I went to the city for college and never really looked back. There was a group of guys from work who had weekly poker nights, but other than that... you know, it was always hard to manage working 50, 60 hours a week and still keep up with other people at the same time. I guess the island was my way of forcing me to take a vacation."