Episode: 7.2

--- Trish Farewell ---

“And this is: Home sweet home.” She welcomed Ozzy as she stepped into her house, a little two-story thing that she’d never be able to afford if she lived in the city rather than the outer suburbs that were aaa.

“Um… it’s nice.” Ozzy offered awkwardly.

“I like to think so.” She admitted, not really blaming him for his awkwardness given how she’d spent almost two hours convincing the kid to stay with her rather than on the streets.

She knew most people would think her insane for welcoming a stranger she’d known for less than a day into her house, let alone an unknown Deviant. What’s more they’d know she was insane if they knew this was probably her fifth or sixth time doing just that.

Most people didn’t realize it but Crimson Falls was in a special location, leaving it an odd sort of crossroads between Amityville, Baskerville, New Haven, and Le Cimetiere, because of this it wasn’t odd to come across the occasional migrant Deviant leaving one of the hotspot cities for another one. Especially if they were run out of their homes for one reason or another.

And well… (I have a soft spot for strays…)

She blinked, realizing they were both still standing at the door to the house, before shaking her head and gesturing for him to enter. “Yeah, so uh… just make yourself at home”

“Uh, sure thing.” Ozzy nodded with both an awkward chuckle and grin, as his eyes ran over the various photographs lining her hallway walls. Half of them due to her photography hobby, and the other half mementos from her various tenants.

(Hopefully, he’ll stick around long enough to get a couple himself…)

She hated the idea of him going back on the streets, especially after being brought in for whatever reason. (Probably not used to whatever his Deviancy is…)

Given how Ozzy had no bags with him, she decided to put off showing him his room until he was a little more comfortable with the idea of staying with her. So, instead she directed him to her living room where a TV was hung on the wall between two bookcases, completely filled with the various books she’d gotten to entertain herself as well as her guests.

(Still haven’t read those psych journals.)

As Ozzy followed her into the living room, she swiped the remote from the dining table in the center of the room before handing it to the young runaway and gently directing him towards her couch. “Here, see if you can find anything on the TV. I’m going to see if I can figure something out for dinner.”

The runaway glanced between her and the remote in his hand. “Um, any preference?”

She was about to shrug the question off, not really caring, before thinking about something her old tenant bbb, once told her. The aspiring psych-major and psychic, having explained something to her about how keeping people verbally off guard can help you sneak past their walls, so long as you avoided pissing them off.

Figuring the admitted conman, and robin hood would know what he was talking about she instead told Ozzy that, “As long as it’s not porn I’m cool.” The same kind of statement bbb would use to keep her off guard whenever she started to ask about his home life.

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And just like bbb used to do whenever she’d splutter and blush, she couldn’t help but laugh as Ozzy nearly did a spit-take, before blushing (green?)

(Curious…) That narrowed down his Deviancy a fair bit, but she could still handle those options if necessary.

Almost subconsciously her hand reached for the little pepper spray bottle of Malice in her pocket, the only defensive weapon she let herself carry when she let a runaway stay over, and that was only because the Rhodes Twins had been so adamant about her safety when they found out they were actually her fourth set of tenants.

Shaking her head, she virtually ripped her hand away from the substance that if her guess about his Deviancy was right, was borderline lethal to the kid sitting in her living room.

(Ozzy isn’t going to hurt me. He’s just a kid. He’s not like him.)

With a calming breath and another shake of her head, she pushed those thoughts out of her head and made her way to the kitchen before going through the pantry for something well-liked by most without any of the ingredients that had set off her previous tenants.

After all, she wasn’t going to risk a mess like what happened the one time she tried feeding Cassandra curry, resulting in the young Wonderlander nearly burning her house down due to the spice overload.

(Yeah, even if he is a Deadman, I’m probably better off just getting a couple of pizzas…)

With that decided she pulled out her cell and dialed the local pizza place, before asking Ozzy, “You cool with pizza?” more as an afterthought than anything else.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Want anything on your pizza?” She tried, figuring it wouldn’t do to get him something he refused to eat. (Then again, Deadmen eat ectoplasm and that stuff smells like a dried corpse…)

“Um, it doesn’t really matter, just no, uh, no anchovies and… no mushrooms, if you don’t mind?” Ozzy answered in an extremely reluctant tone.

“Easy enough.” She nodded back to him.

(Actually, since I’m thinking about it, where would I find ectoplasm if he does decide to stick around for a while?)

She didn’t want a repeat of that incident where she found Jack drinking the blood of her neighbor (who was stalking you.)

A chill ran down her spine at that memory, for a (terrifying) number of reasons.

Pushing those thoughts aside she went ahead and ordered a couple of pizzas as the clerk answered the phone, figuring it was better to have extra in case Ozzy’s Deviancy came with an increased metabolism.

Hanging up the phone, she went back to the living room, trying to avoid making too much noise as she moved to check on Ozzy.

The young runaway was deathly pale, with fraying midnight black hair, and dull emerald green eyes. His clothes -a pair of faded jeans, a white button up missing several buttons, and an old black hoodie- were all just as worn, almost as if he’d been wearing them for several weeks straight. (Which he might’ve been.)

All in all, it was pretty clear the boy was nowhere near the best of health.

(In fact, looking at him, he really does look like a Deadman walking…)

If it turned out he wasn’t actually a Deadman, then that meant he needed far more help than she initially thought.

Starting to feel a little creepy just watching the unaware runaway, she made her way over to the couch and took a seat next to him on the couch.

“Well, the pizza is on its way, should be here in about half an hour.” She told him, idly hoping to start a conversation.

“That’s… good.” Ozzy nodded, only briefly glancing at her before trying to subtly shift further away on the couch.

She had to resist the urge to frown at his response, far more guarded than any of her previous tenants had been, even on their first nights staying over. From what she’d seen most Deviants were actually fairly open and expressive so long as you avoided certain key words such as Sanctuary, the police, or coffee.

(Or maybe that was just the Rhodes twins?)

Her eyes drifted to a nearby photo of her and a smiling pair of auburn-haired siblings, the brother and sister duo each with an arm around her shoulders as their silver eyes stared into the camera with a matching pair of fanged grins.

Shaking her head and figuring there was nothing she could do about it at the moment, she decided to just let the matter drop. After all, regardless of how guarded he was now, if she played her cards right, she could hopefully keep Ozzy off the street for a few weeks, at least long enough for him to get over whatever caused him to end up at her clinic.

(And if I'm lucky, he might even keep in touch with me after leaves.)