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[ooc: And I have handwaved canon yet again for the sake of getting Dominic's ass back into Milliways. Sorry, guys.]

Those seated near the Door hear a faint hum which rapidly increases in volume. The air a few feet in from the Door flickers, ripples, and opens like an enormous eyelid. Through the opening can be seen a bed with a dingy blanket, a small well-worn dresser, and a one-legged man with a book.

The man hobbles through the opening, which closes again behind him, and sags into the nearest chair.

It's been a long week.

[tinytag: Gordon Freeman]

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This is Gordon's "..." face.

That's no form of displacement he's ever seen. You'll forgive him for his hand going to the crowbar at his belt, we hope?

"Don't bother," Dominic murmurs. "'m not goin' anywhere."

Indeed, he looks like he's having trouble just holding his head up.

First time you're all better and someone comes in shell-shocked and traumatized, you do for them and we'll count this good, Spoon had said when he made the loan of the dog. Gordon's not sure if this qualifies, but it's close enough. He's out of his seat and over to the other man's chair straight away.

"You all right there?"

Stupid question, but what do you need doesn't sound right as a starter.

"I've been worse."

He runs a hand over his face.

"...we've met before, right? Gordon Freeman?"

Edited 2008-06-03 23:41 (UTC)

"I think so," says Gordon, waving to one of the rat animatrons. "Once. You said you saw me killing a headcrab."

Dominic nods, then looks up sharply.

"...you said you didn't know what they were."

Edited 2008-06-03 23:45 (UTC)

Gordon turns his head slightly and indicates the fine lines of rapid-healed scar tissue along the edges of his hairline, places where things tried to latch on and had to be forcibly knocked away or torn off.

"I know them now," is all he says.

Dominic, mercifully, does not have a vision in regards to this. Evidently his brain has decided it's had its fill of gruesome divinations for a while. (Watching a guy explode will do that to you.)

"What happened?" Dominic asks softly, his own troubles momentarily forgotten.

"An experiment went wrong," Gordon says. "One that I was part of. We pushed our equipment too far, trying to analyze a crystal to see if it was any good for teleportation experiments somewhere down the line, and it started a cascade of events that tore open holes between our world and the next one over. The headcrabs were some of the things that came pouring through."

Edited 2008-06-03 23:58 (UTC)

("The mystical auras don't lie. That blast breached the Planes. It was brief and it seems the Elemecca was able to repair the damage... but whenever dimensional boundaries are broken... something always manages to slip through the cracks.")

"Have the... holes... been repaired?"

"I don't know," says Gordon. "We put a satellite in orbit that was supposed to help close up the holes. I got sent to the dimension on the other side to kill the thing that was holding the portals open from that side. I got pulled out and sent here immediately after killing it, so I can't say for sure."

"Pulled out?" echoes Dominic. "So it was done deliberately?"

Gordon nods. "By someone...." He trails off a moment, then continues. "I don't think he was human. He looked like he was trying to pass, and not doing very well at it. But, yes."

Dominic is silent for a long moment.

Then he grabs his crutch and hauls himself up to a standing position.

"C'mon, I'm buying you a drink."

Gordon blinks, but nods. "Okay," he says. "But I'm getting the next round. You look like you could use it."

"It's all right, really," says Dominic as he limps toward Bar. "I'm... used to seeing things no one should have to see."

It's a little hard to argue with that. Gordon just nods and follows along.

"I don't think anything much stronger than an ordinary beer would be a good idea," he notes. "Zipfer Urtyp if they have it. It's not bad."

Dominic nods. "A Zipfer Urtyp for Gordon and a Cunningham's for me," he tells the Bar as he settles onto a stool. Bar provides, and he knocks back his glass the moment it appears.

"Thanks," says Gordon. He's going to go through his much slower; his alcohol tolerance hasn't been the same since Black Mesa. Still, it's reassuring stuff.

When your circle of friends includes orcs and werewolves, you tend to develop a strong alcohol tolerance.

That, or they do very strange and silly things with your unconscious body after you pass out.

"So," says Dominic once he comes up for air. "How long has it been for you since we last talked? I know how time goes all screwy here."

"About a month, I think," says Gordon, although if he really expects to get any answers out of his glass of beer he's sorely disappointed. "Maybe a little more than that. I know I've been here since things went to hell in my world, but that's because the door vanished."

"It's been less than a week, for me," says Dominic. "One hell of a week, though."

"Should I ask, or do I wait until you've had another beer?"

"It's... complicated."

Those two words sum up Dominic's entire life right now.

"The short version is, I had to foil an assassination attempt on myself."

That's a little outside his experience. There's a difference between assassination and random mowing down by-

Oh, wait. Maybe Gordon has something of an idea after all.

"Stealthy women in black form-fitting outfits come out of the shadows after you, too?"

"Woman, singular. But yeah." He takes another pull at his drink. "And then I had to save her from a gruesome death herself."

"That's kind of impressive. What prompted that?"

"She had been hired to kill as many seers as possible. An... old rival of mine who also happened to be a seer got wind of it, and thought he'd be doing me a favor by killing her."

"I meant the saving part. Most people just go straight for self defense, I'd think. Did she need to be prosecuted?"

"That's part of it, yes. Another factor was the fact that she's my fiancée's sister."

... there's a movie in there somewhere. Possibly starring Bridget Fonda and Jean Reno.

"That'd do it. She all right now?"

Or possibly a soap opera. All My Seers.

"As well as can be expected, I think. She's in jail awaiting trial. I heard Luna's other sister is going to be her legal counsel."

Gordon considers this.

"Good luck to both of 'em. My mother's a family court judge. She always said representing your relatives gets messy fast."

A huff of quiet laughter. "I don't think the Travoria family can get any more messy, at this point."

"That bad, huh?"

For a moment, Dominic considers listing off all the horrible things that the Travoria family has done, to Luna and to others.

He thinks better of it.

"Yeah. That bad."

Gordon wrinkles his nose. "You're a stronger man than I am, then."

His personnel file, if it still exists, reads: FREEMAN, G. Single, no dependents.

Dominic cants his head to one side, frowning as he looks at Gordon.

"Do you seriously believe that?"

"Dealing with monsters is one thing. Dealing with human problems is something else."

"...I wish I only had to deal with human problems."

Edited 2008-06-05 01:20 (UTC)

"Sorry," says Gordon. "Made the wrong assumption, I guess."

"It's all right. You didn't know."

And Dominic's not about to elaborate unless Gord specifically asks about it.

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