Stark

2 days ago, Stark had watched a friend bleed out and die. He'd felt him die. Yesterday that same friend had been alive until he'd caught on fire and died again. Stark had felt that, too. And there had been other deaths he'd been dimly aware of, all of them wrong somehow. All, he fervently hoped, just as impermanent, since today was apparently Friday for the third time. He'd taken the dog with him yesterday, and she'd vanished in the night when he ended up back in his own apartment. Again.

It was disturbing and it was distressing and it was confusing. Nothing made sense about any of it.

So he was going to do something that did make sense and just let himself into the apartment next door (the occupant of which, sadly, was going to think it was Friday again) because that's why he had a key. For when he needed it.

"Faye? Are you still here?" There was no reason to think she wouldn't be. He was still going to ask. And maybe attempt to keep her inside all day, just in case.

Stark had been very tired after last night. Tired enough not to notice when his companion had slipped away uncharacteristically early this morning. He was always the first awake between the two of them. For Faye to be awake and the first one up and moving was unheard of but it had apparently happened today. It was strange, but not concerning. Much stranger things had happened.

Still it was odd and required investigation. Maybe she'd been hungry or in search of coffee. But there weren't any noises coming from the kitchen or from anywhere else in the apartment. And when he walked out of his bedroom there were no other signs of her anywhere, even when he called out her name.

Maybe, he thought, she'd gone next door for something. He was still unconcerned when he reached the kitchen. He could make breakfast. She liked breakfast. And maybe over breakfast they could actually talk. There had been very little opportunity for talking last night. But there wasn't going to be breakfast and there wasn't going to be any talking because in the kitchen there was a note.

He picked up the note and read it. Read it again. And again.

"No. No no no no no! Faye!" She wasn't here. He knew that. Calling her name wasn't going to do any good. That didn't stop him.

He was still repeating "no" to himself when he ran back into the bedroom for clothes and when he stopped to put on shoes and when he returned to the kitchen to pick the note up once more. Saying no hadn't changed anything yet but he couldn't seem to stop.

Note still clutched in his hand, Stark headed out the door. He'd go to the junkyard first. Maybe she wasn't gone yet. Maybe she hadn't really left. Maybe he wasn't too late.

[Establishy unless you really want it not to be! And omg work is RIDICULOUS today]

Stark had spent a good portion of yesterday working on a birthday cake. He'd considered cupcakes because that's what he usually made but a full-size cake was different and possibly more special, so he'd gone with that. And he'd covered the cake with purple and gold edible glitter. It had seemed appropriate and he'd found it amusing. He only hoped the recipient of the cake would as well.

The cake was on the table, along with far too many takeout containers for two people. Not because he'd ordered and received too many. He'd ordered from several places on purpose. That way there were choices. Hopefully at least one was correct.

He wasn't entirely confident he'd done enough for this birthday, given that the 3 most recent birthdays he'd attended had involved 21 bars in a row (Stark was very glad he was not going to be visiting 78 or even 24 bars today), a very large and loud arcade, and a glittery western themed party. He was also a little worried that it might be more than Faye really wanted. He'd have to see.

He thought she'd be pleased. He hoped she'd be pleased. He'd find out either way once she arrived.

[For the purple-haired 78 year old!]

Yesterday had been extremely odd, and exhausting, even for here. Today had been fine for Stark though. Much less chaotic. He hadn’t turned into anyone or anything he shouldn’t have, for one thing. That was always a positive. His mask had stayed where it was meant to, which also helped make for a more pleasant day. Wine class had presumably been fine as well but now he was back in his apartment and settling in for the night.

He’d eaten (a meal not entirely made up of sugar, even) and cleaned up the kitchen. It could be an early night, he thought, or maybe he would curl up on his couch and watch a food program, or look for recipe inspirations for class tomorrow. Maybe even both.

For now, he’d shower. Perhaps shave. It would be better to have a freshly shaved head before facing paintball tomorrow in case Anakin tried (or accomplished) anything. That sounded good to Stark. A shower, a shave, and a quiet night in.

So that’s where he was, in the shower (without his mask, because it was easier not to get the straps wet than to dry them after) in his empty and locked apartment. At least, the door was locked the last time he checked.


[Stark is clearly expecting nobody. I am expecting 1 or 2 neighbors for maximum awkwardness! :D]