11calls | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

There was a sense of anticipation in the air that Alex doesn't like one damned bit. It feels too familiar to her, too similar to the way that the world felt after Coralee and Warren, after they'd learned about the Axis Mundae. It had been days since she'd seen Strand, it feels like and Alex missed him. After their fight when she'd gotten back from Turkey, things had been better. Or at least they'd seem better to Alex once he'd gotten his anger out of his system, once he'd used Coralee's name and the nature of his relationship with her as a blunt weapon that was swung whenever the two of them had become too close.

But the thing of it was that Alex hadn't done anything this time. There'd been no fights, nothing that had caused him to pick up his toys and stomp off home as he had so many times before. There was nothing wrong other than the fact that Richard was gone. Her calls were sent to voicemail, her texts and emails went unanswered and even calling Ruby wasn't helpful in the slightest. Not that it ever really was when Alex needed to deal with his broad punk wall of an assistant.

So, she just tried to continue on as normal, as if he was just taking a break outside the room. Throwing herself into her work is second nature for Alex, but Nic had decreed that the studio needed to be empty by ten in order for Alex to get some sleep. It never worked for her of course--Alex just took the work home and spread it on her coffee table. A fresh brewed cup of coffee from her french press had been made and Alex was still sitting on the floor with her back to her couch as she went over everything that she had with a pen in her hand and a heavily filled notebook at her side.

Granted, due to the fact that she was home, Alex was wearing comfortable pajamas: an old and well-loved pnws shirt that had been hers since she’d been an intern (complete with a hole on the collar) and a pair of old boxer shorts that had never belonged to anyone but her—they fit her too well for that. With the heavy makeup that Alex normally wore to hide the dark circle under her eyes, they’re prominent and so is the smattering of freckles across her face. Her hair is still damp from the shower, and tied up into a messy bun at the base of her neck. With Nic gone in Russia and all of her friends having been pushed away due to work, Alex wasn’t expecting company. She definitely wasn’t expecting Richard considering she always went to his father’s house or came to the studio. Oh, she knows he knows where she lives (Alex has pointed out her apartment building more than once) but him coming to her seems entirely laughable at this point.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

For a person who has been trying to be an individual for years, sci-fi about a human finding a sense of individuality and breaking free from conceived notions? It's timely, he realizes sitting beside her. He has always wanted freedom. To cut loose, to be on edge.

"Song is a toss up." He chews thoughtfully, "It's either Beethoven's Erocia - or. It's Manhattan by Ella Fitzgerald." He takes a sip of wine, "...Comfort food is easy. Chocolate covered almonds. And number is probably 11."

It slips out, and he's completely heedless, "It's a perfect number. One denotes positivity and optimism. It's authoritative, and represents the authority. Having it appear in your life as an angelic number means things are out of balance and it's time to address unequal forces in your life. It signifies great change. There are 11 things supposed to be witnessed by John the Baptist in conjunction with the end of the world."

He smiles, then looks at her nonplussed, "...So. Now you. And then follow it up with Book, class in school, and...Oh pick something you want to know about me."

The wine is kicking in, making the alcohol worse as he smiles at her lazily. He could sit like this for hours."

"Um, if you tell Nic I'm going to lose so many cool girl points, so you can't, but I really love Yellow by Coldplay. I know, I know, but there's something about it that just really makes me happy. And Killer Queen by Queen too. I used to go nuts singing it and trying to be entirely too bad ass about it." Alex's tongue is a little loosened by the wine, but not much. Instead, she's just letting herself talk about who she is rather than in relationship to the story that she's supposed to be telling, it's nice and refreshing in a way.

"Comfort food is easy for me too, but it's a tossup. For like an actual sort of meal thing, mac and cheese. The homemade kind with like the crunchy breadcrumbs on the top. And Ben and Jerry's Half Baked. Even when I have nothing else in my freezer, I've got it and coffee. Because some days you just need to eat a pint of ice cream and call it dinner." More often than she would like to, but not enough to care about it.

"My favorite number is twenty-three. Probably because it's my birthday rather than any other pretentious sort of meaning attached to it." It's teasing, of course, but it's light. "Book varies based on mood, but one of the ones that I always find myself rereading when I can is A Tale of Two Cities. Even if Dickens was writing by the word and definitely needs an editor like crazy. I like The Moonstone too, and Emma by Austen. Subject in school was easy, English of course. I'm really terrible at math." And then she just goes easy, but also very important: "Favorite ice cream flavor? Because if it's Half Baked it might be fisticuffs at dawn over the last pint."

"Dickens." He offers that soft chuff that Alex may be familiar with by now, "You have very good taste in books."

When she mentions mac and cheese however he smiled, "I know you saw I was asked to be on the Chopped! podcast. What I do not know is if you ever saw the recipe I submitted to the food network when they asked for guest submissions."

He pulls out his phone and passes it to her. She'll note that his lock screen and home screen are generic, but the recipe is On the webpage.

His grin is cocky, "I make my own bread. Garlic bread? I crush my own garlic butter with it. It's delicious."

He smiles, "I could get used to ice cream.

He won't have time to. But he lets that slide, leaning against her, "You didn't ask me questions."

Alex just snuggles back up against him, tucking herself under his shoulder when she hands him his phone back before she speaks with a mock-scowl. "I'm a little insulted that you haven't made me your 'Killer Mac and Cheese with Bacon' mac and cheese, Richard. And bread either." She tsks lightly at him, but there's no heat in it, just a state of being content that spreads out from her, like a kitten who'd been fed and was now resting in a spare bit of sunshine.

"So you're going to need to do that when we get back." But that was it for the mentions of where they were going and what they were going to do. Instead she just bites at her lower lip for a second, considering what to ask next. But first a caveat: "So you know I can't cook so the only thing that I'm going to be able to say is coffee and nanaimo bars, but top three things to cook, top restaurant that you'd love to go to again, and your favorite date idea."

Which is important because Alex knows that she wants to know so that she can take notes, celebratory things and all of that when it's all over.

Date idea

An idea trickles into his mind. Like he's a child again, a teenager again, I could look into her mind. I could pick something she'd really want- but the notion is instantly dismissed. Even if Alex weren't Alex, it would be a violation the likes of which he would never be comfortable with.

That would take some getting used to. So he sits and thinks.

"My mother taught me how to make brioche. Quinoa and rice pilaf. And Ruby says I make a mean quesadilla."

Restaurant he'd love to go to again...

"Richard I'm afraid you're going to have to roll me back to the hotel." Coralee mimed flopping over in her chair. Music drifted in through the open windows and if they had taken the window table they could have seen the beach spread out beneath them, "That. Was delicious."

"Too busy rolling myself home." He moved to take her hands, "Come darling. Italy awaits us!"

"...There's a very fancy hole in the wall restaurant in Chicago that makes some of the best deep dish I've ever had. I'll go with that. But cooking is an art Alex. It's something truly special. When you find something that you like that you want in person. Anyone can make a pizza. If I tell you that I want to eat somewhere again, trust me. It's a good restaurant I'll come back to."

Oh god. And Date idea.

"...I haven't dated in a long time Alex..."

Just sexual encounters over work.

"Okay, so you definitely need to make me brioche. And then use it to make french toast." Alex just says with a grin, and she offers without any sort of question on his part, feeling more at ease with the game. "I kind of love breakfast foods? Even if I don't actually eat them at breakfast. I'm a brunch girl because if I ate french toast and then tried to go to work, I'd just be napping in my office. But definitely more pancakes and french toast than eggs. I love bacon more than sausage and orange juice." And coffee, but it goes without saying, but it ties back to her question. "There was this little mom and pop place by my parents house. They made all their own breads and baked goods and sausage even. Best pancakes I'd ever had. I'd like to take you there I think. Someday."

But not for a while. Obviously. "And definitely deep dish pizza in Chicago too." But then it comes around to the whole dating thing, and Alex isn't surprised. She also wouldn't be surprised to hear about him sleeping with people at conferences or whatever. Richard Strand may have loved (may love) his wife, but he's also a sensual man in the way that he likes good things for his senses: his suits, his food, his tea, his wine. What is sex but something else that does that? And sex can definitely just be sex--it's what her and Amalia was last year before she just decamped to Nic because Nic was more fun to play with and was still half-in love with her.

Alex was more than half in love with someone else.

"I know, and that's okay. I just thought that there was something that you may have... I don't know. Thought of. Around me, I mean."

He has always meticulously planned his dates. It drove Coralee nuts, it drove Amber (Charlie's mother) absolutely bonkers, but it provides a degree of control he'd never admit he likes. It's a trait he saw in his father, planning his mother's time and his son and daughter's time to the last detail. He hated when he caught Charlie doing it, and he had lived so long with himself so strictly regimented that it was ridiculous.

But then. Along came Alex. Who just...did. Who did not plan. And she did plan...

I just thought that there was something you might have...I don't know. Thought of. Around me, I mean.

"Aren't all of our excursions dates?"

His smile doesn't fade, but his eyes go soft, "I'd cook you dinner. At my house." His home in Chicago swims into mind, "At my house in Chicago. The space that's mine."

That hands for a moment before he brushes it off, "Dinner or breakfast. Then we'd sight see. Millennium park, Buckingham Fountain. Then towards the end of the day there's this hole in the wall bookshop. I swear the guy has been there since time began. I found it years ago when I went prowling around the city with a group of friends and they left me there for a day. I was totally content. I stop in, buy books, you stop in, you possibly help me carry books home. And then we sit. Like this or not, and I read and you watch TV or whatever you...want to do in the evenings. But my bookshop is special to me, and I would...like you to see it one day."

Oh his mind is cracking. Just take it moment by moment Richard. His heart hurts, Better she lives. Better she gets to go to all those places..

Alex just laughs softly, and she nuzzles her cheek against his chest as she looks up at him. This has definitely moved directly into cuddling and of course Alex would be the one to do it first because Alex is bad about boundaries and she's bad about a lot of things, but she's good about loving him, that's for sure. Loving him is one of the easiest things that she can do without thinking, and it'd make sense that cuddling becomes that too.

"We can always have breakfast for dinner," Alex suggests as a compromise, even though she does think breakfast AND dinner because if she's going to Chicago it's definitely not a day trip sort of plan. But it's easy for Alex to see it, the sites that her and Nic didn't when the two of them were there to interview both Emily Dumond and Richard himself. Alex traveled a lot, but the places that she went to weren't ones where she had the time or ability to just wander in the way that he was suggestion.

Alex has an active imagination, and it's easy for her to picture the date in her mind: the bookshop, carrying one book rather than a stack, and then ending up on his sofa like this. Well, not exactly like this, more like with her using his thigh as a pillow as he plays with her hair and they both read. Or he reads to her. She really should read more novels. But... "That sounds like a perfect date for the two of us, Richard. I'd love to see your bookstore. And your actual house, the one you chose and not..." Well, not Howard's obviously. "I didn't get a chance to before. Maybe that's what we should do: fly to Chicago instead of back here."

After, of course because everything is after.

"And honestly that sounds like the perfect date too. Well, with me it wouldn't be cooking because I don't think you'd like to meet the faces of my neighbors when I try and cook and burn something. But just you and me..." Alex gives him a grin. "On a better sofa I guess. Just having pizza from the place down by Pike's Place and having a wine and talking and just being us without you know..." All of the trappings of the show.

He allows the wine to take affect and pulls her a little closer, gently, "Just the two of us. Seattle, Chicago, we could fly back and forth. I'll go on speaking engagements and come home with stories about stupid silly people trying to swindle people out of their deepest beliefs and you'll report on it, or you'll report on something. Or you'll write. You're a wonderful storyteller.

Maybe we rent a boat. Or I'll sell my father's house and move the institute back to Chicago. Or I sell my house and move here. His house...would be better if you were there more. And you and I could argue and I could try to hopelessly entice you to the theater and read to you from other Dickens books and the Brontes and poetry and I can pretend for a little while that I haven't dragged you into the hell that's been my life for seven years old. We could go to Italy. Visit Charlie."

He paused, "...She approved of you."

He's not a bad storyteller himself--Richard never has been. Of course all of his stories normally ended with some sort of variation on a theme about how it wasn't real and she couldn't actually believe that it was true, but this was a different sort of story that he was spinning, and it was one that Alex does want to believe in, more than she'd ever wanted to believe in tales of the supernatural or demons. Alex wants to believe in this possible future, because it was a possible future, something that they just needed to battle through the rest of to get.

But she does tilt her head for a bit, with a smile. "She does? I'm really glad to hear it. It was something I worried about. Most people who call the studio to tell me to fuck off I can brush aside but when it's Charlie..." For a few reasons, and only one of them was because she was Richard's daughter.

"You know," Alex says softly, and she touches his cheek again, sitting up so that it's easier for her dark eyes to find his blue ones. "We can go wherever you want, do whatever you want. I know that for most of your life you haven't had a lot of choices Richard and when this is done I want you to have that option. If you want to get a boat and sail around the world, I'd like that. If you want me to come to Chicago, I'd like that too. And if you want to stay here it's fine. We're going to make it work no matter what happens. Because I'm not going anywhere. The only thing that's important to me, the only thing that matters is that when all of this bullshit with Warren is done, you and I are together, however that means." She means it, because of course Alex does.

She's so assured. She sounds so damn sure but she was also so young and...and he brushed that aside. Staring at her. What it says to him is accept yourself. If he wants to stop Warren?

"...Can I try something? With you? Just an experiment." He pauses, "I want you to think. Of a place we can go. Just. Stay with me and think of that place and I'm going to...find out what it is."

This could go a lot more places, he realizes, but for now.

"Whatever this is, if we're going up against warren I need to know how to use it."

"Yeah, sure. Of course. I trust you." He'd asked for her trust once not that long ago, and Alex had said that it wasn't an issue because it wasn't. When she'd talked about her show she hadn't said that she didn't, because she'd needed to have some level of objectivity, but she'd trusted him since he'd gotten back from seeing Charlie. She'd trusted him even before then, mostly, but the break had been hard on her.

So, Alex just takes a deep breath, and she clears her mind of other things. (Well for the most part anyway, Alex's brain is never very good about the 'one thought' sort of deal. Mindfulness had always been the most impossible therapy skill to learn.) One thing she knows is that she doesn't want it to be a place where anything from the Tapes had run through. That's not what this is about. Instead, she pictures a trip she'd taken when she was in college and had spent time at a small bed and breakfast in the Irish country side. It was a tiny hamlet, off the beaten path because when had Alex ever really done the beaten path.

It's a town by the sea, and there's a large back garden at the place with a rickety wooden swing on it. Alex just focuses on that swing and the scent of heather and lavender, and the sound of the winds in tall grasses outside of the stone fence.

This is so stupid.

It's not supposed to work. None of this should work. This is ridiculous and pointless. Richard Strand should not be doing this, he should not be trying this...

But it comes, a hazy image of a swing and a smell of warmth and -

"Heather and Lavender? And..." He tilts his head, "A creaking - a chair? Or a swing. A swing and...stones"

That took effort but he breathes, and he knows he got it right. But.

Alex just grins at him with a nod that is nothing if it's not encouraging really. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking of. Can you tell me any more details about the place?" If he can tell that she loves him, after all and knows that she was thinking about it then he can do this, even if he needs a bit of practice. Alex wants him to have that practice, so in her mind she also focuses on details.

The feel of the cobblestones beneath bare feet as you sit on the swing. The way that it has the feel that old wooden swings always do that it might drop you, so there's danger mixed in with the excitement of each upward and downward movement as the tree that's older than your home country creaks and groans in protest of your weight. The tension of the old rope beneath your fists that you know is definitely older than you are and was woven together by hand rather than by machine.

A cup of Irish Breakfast sits on the little table next to the swing, it's color a murky gray-brown from the amount of sugar that you'd shoved into it. A scone with a bite out of it, light and fluffy like you've never had sits on a plate next to crumbs of the first one. Clotted cream, sweet and rich gives the scone a murky sort of glaze but the richness of it settles on your tongue, an indulgence like you've never had and you're not sure if you're ever going to be able to find anything like it again.

This is for her. For Charlie. Even for Coralee. He has never wanted this. Never in a million years. It's just a different way of looking at the world. You are still human.

And she is not beside him anymore.

Instead he is sitting there and not sitting there. He walks, in shoes, feeling the stones beneath his shoes, smelling the air and the grass, tasting the breakfast. He kneels beside it, actually tasting it. It's heady, he can feel the wind on his face, see it, smell the salt and the flowers and even feel like he's there...

Outwardly he is sitting very still before rolling slightly to his side. His eyes stay closed before they snap open - filmy and white.

He isn't so much pushed back as he is pulled. and he gasps - stomach rolling. The white film around his eyes is gone as he staggers to his feet.

"Move." When you are out of practice these things are hard to do. It's like lifting hundreds of pounds after years of languishing. Bolting to her bathroom he pukes up the sushi and the scotch and heaves until his stomach is empty lying there digesting what he had just done.

He had biolocated.

He had been in two places at once.

Curling back away from the toilet he rolls his head back, wrapping his arms around himself as he'd done as a child, unaware of anything else in the room.

But the taste of coffee stays on his tongue and the smell of grass lingers in his nose.

To say that Alex was surprised by the white film in his eyes is an understatement, and Alex just gasped when she saw it. She can't help it. For all of her believing in Simon and how he could bilocate, she'd never actually seen him doing it. She'd just heard the effects of it. But something inside of her knows that Richard did it now, and she moves out of the way when he runs to her bathroom.

As the veteran PNWS mama bear caretaker when people at office parties (and the PNWS office parties where interns are invited are a legend onto themselves) Alex has helped a lot of interns when they'd been sick. While he throws up, Alex just uses the time to grab a clean washcloth and went it with cool water, wringing it out so that she can place it on the back of his neck when he's wrapping his arms around himself. Alex also filled a cup with water, but she doesn't give it to him yet. Instead she knows that he needs a different form of comfort.

So Alex goes down onto her knees next to him and just wraps herself around him as much as she can, pulling him close to her chest so that she can stroke his head carefully. "It's alright, Richard. You're here with me. You're here with me and I've got you. You're here and you're safe and I've got you and I'm not letting go." There's comfort and reassurance in her voice, as well as the trademark Alex Reagan fierceness as well. She can't help it, if need be she'd fight Warren and anyone else for him.

Including the Goddess that Alex doesn't know is slowly slipping her claws into him.

Here is what comes of creaking open doors. Of peering through thresholds. Of crawling into places you should not go. You have a hard time closing them again. Richard feels her arms around him and he holds her as tightly as he can. Squeezing her before letting go and staring at the wall. It was like pushing open a locked door, like shoving his shoulder against it, but now that it's there...

I should look for Charlie and Coralee it's a whisper through his mind that he ignores. He clings to Alex, leaning against her shivering visibly.

Do it

That same echoing female voice. His eyes widen and he stares at nothing before shaking it off.

Hello Richard. I've been waiting for you for a very, very long time.

The air drops several degrees around him and he stares at nothing - before wrapping a protective arm over Alex. It's draped across her and he laughs weakly. A genuine laugh.

"...So you've been to Ireland too?"

The laugh lowers some of Alex's anxiety about what's going on, but it can't lower it entirely, not with Richard clinging to her so tightly for a moment and then just staring at the wall. She'd followed his gaze to it, but she didn't see anything. She can stare at it all she wants to, but it's just the pale green of her bathroom wall to her.

A shiver moves through her that Alex can't help, and she doesn't understand why the room has gotten so cold. It's not like she has a window in the bathroom to let a draft in or something like that. It's climate controlled and after a minute Alex can feel the heat kick on in response to the change in the temperature. Her frown sticks, because Alex can't help it, and for all that he says that the connections that she sees aren't there, they both know that they normally are. Alex is making such a connection now, and she doesn't like it, but it's definitely connected to the way that he stared at nothing and she knows it in her gut.

"I traveled a lot of places when I was younger. I actually thought about being a travel writer for a little while." It's a reflex to answer the question as she keeps her arms around him.

But Alex wouldn't be Alex if she didn't ask the tough questions: "what just happened Richard? Just now, after you were sick. I know something did. The room got colder."

"Nothing."

She sits at the sea door and the Tall Pauls stand around her. Her legions, and he is there and Alex is at his side and why...Why...

When he looks at her he holds her tightly, "...Trust me. I have no idea. Jesus let's get out of here and get a blanket."

Moving away from the bathroom is better, and he feels warmer, but he is also eager to open the door. To bridge new scientific discoveries.

"I think if I practice the...sickness will get better. I don't like throwing up."

“I know. Food poisoning. I remember.” Alex gives him a quick smile, but the concern about what just happened doesn’t go away. When she’s helping him up, Alex can’t help but to look to the wall once more. Even if she would deny it now, Alex wouldn’t be surprised if tomorrow there was some sort of smudgy smear that Richard would deny was sacred geometry or demon related. Maybe. Maybe not anymore. But she still wouldn’t be surprised all the same.

“Do you think you can stomach some water? Or do you want to brush your teeth? I always keep extra toothbrushes around. Something my mom always taught me to do just in case someone unexpectedly dropped by.” Like Amalia she thinks quickly before she pushes her thought aside.

Given how he’d responded when he kissed her, Alex goes on to suggest: “there’s a good blanket on the couch actually.”

"Toothbrush would be great." Don't leave "I'll brush that and come out and sit with you." Don't leave. Please don't leave. "...And then ...water?"

The moment she leaves him alone with a toothbrush he'll get to it, feeling warm and fuzzy - right until he stares into the mirror and sees himself smirking back at him.

It's him down to a tee - the same clothes, his body, but he looks colder, harder, meaner, and his eyes are a deep demonic black.

You opened the door Richard. The other him smirks, I have been waiting forever for you to grow a sack and open that fucking door. Coralee, all of us have been pushing through for awhile now. Tiamat awaits. Your dad couldn't protect you forever.

"Who...Who-"

Who am I? You. Or who you're supposed to be. She's cute. Can't wait to see what we do with her. What you do with her.

"Stop it."

Coralee was right. She's a lure. Every time you think about her you poison her chances at living.

"Stop it."

...How do you want to kill her?

He doesn't break the class. That would be cliche. He does shuffle out of the door to stare at Alex with a haunted look on his face before moving to the couch, grabbing what he hopes is a blanket, and wrapping it around his shoulders.

"...Recovery is going to take a bit. Sorry to startle you. It just...goes to show I need more practice."

Practice would be good. Lots of practice. Pull the door open wider.

Alex is worried. She's worried and it's etched in every bit of her when they're apart. It's there in the way that she paces her living room rug, the way that she chews on her thumbnail, the way that she keeps throwing glances towards the closed door and then to him when he comes out with a haunted look on her face.

Dropping her hand when he settles back onto the couch, Alex just grabs the blanket from the chair and comes over and sits next to him. She tucks herself into the crook of his arm once more, leaning against his chest as Alex just spreads the warmth of the blanket across them both. "Hey. It's okay. Recovery can take as long as it needs to alright?" Alex means it, even if she does have questions (and of course she has questions) about what happens to be going on with him right now. Why he looks so close as to how he did the night he'd seen Coralee.

"Do you..." She fumbles. Pauses. Starts and stops. That too feels familiar to Alex and like that night between them when he was so honest with her. "Do you want to tell me about it, Richard?" There. Better than her just coming out and straight up asking him.

"About biolcation? It was incredible. It was like - Like - Like Alice in the looking glass. Like that movie. The one about the computer. The Matrix? The matrix. It was like being inside reality and time and space and...When I feel better I should go again. And write it down and do...do experiments because...oh Alex.

If I could? I would have been able to reach out to Charlie. She's in Italy. I would have been here and in Italy. And to think I hesitated. I was so afraid..."

He moves forward, cupping her face, his hands are like ice and he pulls back aware of how cold he is.

"...Could you hold me. Just - just for now. Please."

If there's one thing that Alex knows about him, it's how Richard can go down the rabbit hole of things. He gets excited on a new topic and throws himself into it just like Alex herself does. It's one of the things that they have in common really. But now it seems worrisome, and not just because the temperature in her house is colder than it should be. And not just because his hands on her face are like ice.

Wordlessly, Alex just tugs him forward so that she can wrap her arms around him below the blanket on his shoulders. It's funny how quickly she'd gone from not touching him being the norm to holding onto him being it. She just rests her cheek against his neck, trying to offer him whatever warmth she has within her, as well as the blanket that she'd drawn over them before. "I've got you, Richard." She knows that she said it in the bathroom before, but it seems like he needs it now.

Seems like he needs an anchor now when normally she was the one who does. "I'm here for whatever you need okay? We'll figure this all out together."

"I need to practice." He doesn't pull away, "I can beat this. It's just. I am not going. Panic or get in over my head but you'll help me and I will...I will think about it tomorrow."

He swallows, "My flight leaves in 3 days. Can I stay here?"

It's out of character but the thought of going home makes him feel sick, He swallows, "...I'll just go to Target tomorrow. I don't want to go back to his house."