Barclay's Apartment

[Barclay]

Barclay O'Neill took a sharp intake of breath as he wrapped the wound on his arm with a piece of bandage, wrapping it tightly around his arm to prevent it unravelling. He'd been careless the night before; incredibly fucking stupid and careless, he might add; he'd been sent to keep an eye on proceedings at a major deal between his boss and their best customer in a nearby city. He almost hadn't smelt the intruders, their smells masked by the nearby docks, and he was very, very close to it being too late when he finally realised. He'd managed to alert those important enough to get the two middle-men to safety but not without having to kick a little ass in the process, earning another war-wound for himself.

The young wolf grimaced as he accidentally stabbed himself with the pin he was using to keep the bandage in its place - trying to use a pin with your left hand when you're right-handed was a major pain, sometimes. You'd think he'd learn, the number of times he's had to do it, but no. Once he had the pin securely in place, he stood up from the bed and grabbed the shirt on the back of his chair; tattered and bloodied from the night before. He noted, with great satisfaction, that it was covered more with the blood of others than his own, and smirked as he rolled it up and threw it into the dustbin.

In his line of work, injuries were inevitable and Clay was more than used to this fact; he was just angry whenever he lost perfectly good clothes. Blood was a very hard stain to remove, especially since by the time he got back to his house it was practically dried. Ergo; ruined shirt. He grabbed a clean shirt from the closet and put it on as he wandered back through to the living area.

His boss had been immensely grateful to Clay for his fast thinking in the situation and had given his favourite employee a big fat wad of cash for him to spend which was safely locked away for now. He'd spend it later when he'd got the day's business out of the way.

Speaking of which... Clay grabbed the packets of pot that were on his dining table and put them into the inside pocket of his jacket. Can't forget the stuff I get the money for, he chastised himself, putting the jacket over his shoulders and taking greater care when putting his injured arm in it's sleeve. Once he was ready he put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it, giving a slight grimace and flexing his arm to get used to the pain. Then, grabbing his wallet and intending to get a bacon sandwich on the way, he left his flat.

Continued at: Alleys and Streets: Mozart St.

[Barclay]

POST TIMESKIP

Clay wasn't exactly sure how this had all transpired, but it seems that he was now stuck with a puppy for the foreseeable future. His biggest mistake had been relenting in the first place; showing even the tiniest hairline fracture in his resolve that Blu (and Duck, the puppy) had then rammed a ten inch chisel into to widen it some more. He'd initially agreed to take the puppy to shut the both of them up with the intention of waiting until Blu was gone, then dropping it off with someone else, or taking it to the pound on the sly. Unfortunately, Blu had apparently - and very, very scarily - pre-empted this move and visited every pound in the close area, telling them not to accept a puppy from Clay because Duck was a special puppy that had been entrusted to him, and had threatened them with something they refused to talk about. She'd even shown them a picture of him, apparently, though God knows where she got it from.

So he was now stuck with a puppy. Thankfully, he was a housetrained puppy who seemed obedient enough, although Clay had learned the hard way about puppies and their habit of chewing things when he had been awoken by a proud looking Duck with a gnarled shoe in his mouth. No, it's fine, he can re-buy those thousand-dollar shoes sometime when he knows they won't get chewed to hell again. He's sure the dog has some weird ability to sense or smell expensive items, because it was only ever the most high priced stuff that Duck seems to eyeball and sniffle at, before Clay gets it out of the puppy's reach.

Clay looked down at Duck, who was happily chewing on an actual chew toy which was actually designed to be chewed. He's gone down to the nearest pet store to buy a few toys for Duck to keep him occupied.

Stupid mutt, he thought to himself. He'd actually grown quite fond of the little thing, though he wouldn't ever dream of letting Blu know. It was just a good thing his boss had given him a long stretch of time off after the deal that had gone sour, being told that his actions had earned him a break for now. Clay was sure that wasn't the actual reason he was getting the holiday, but wasn't about to complain; having to take a puppy with you when trying to sell gear wouldn't exactly be the best idea.

[Blu]

Continued from: Central Community Police Station; Basement – Technician’s Office

She reached up to pat at one of the many brightly coloured chopsticks like hair ornament, the blue, green, pink and yellow decorations spinning around the tight bun that was her hair style today. It was different from the pigtails and Blu had felt that change was good. Change might mean today was the day that Flynn came back. Because Flynn was going to come back, Blu was sure of it and until he did – and she chewed him out for leaving – then she needed to reassure herself that all her other friends were alright.

The door to Clay’s apartment loomed up in front of her, Blu breathing a sigh of relief. It hadn’t occurred to her until after she’d left the station and stopped by one of the late night shops to pick up some dog biscuits that just because she knew the building he was in, didn’t mean she knew the actual apartment Clay lived in. She’d seriously considered just knocking on every door before realising that was stupid, scary and there was a much easier way to find out; knock on the door of Mr. Mondale’s, a nice old man she’d met in the grocery store a couple of months ago and struck up a conversation with, a man who made it his business to at least know who he lived with.

Carefully rearranging the items in her hands to that the large tin of home cooked biscuits and the bag of dog treats was balanced in one hand, objects resting against her body for added support, Blu reached out and knocked on the door. Blu hoped he was home – she’d not checked, not that there was any way to check. She refused to think negatively however, keeping the bright smile plastered on her face as she listened for any hint of movement within the apartment. Clay and Duck were about the only friends she had that hadn’t been overwhelmed with cookies and Blu love, an oversight that she was determined to rectify.

[Barclay]

Clay had begun to feel a little ill as the evening wore on; one of those weird, sickening feelings from the pit of your stomach, causing some freakish churning feeling. A more paranoid mind would have said it was some warning of impending doom, but he put it down to the previous night's leftover pizza that he'd thrown into the microwave. To take his mind off it he decided to try and concentrate on something else, so he turned the TV on, putting on the news to keep up to date with how utterly depressing the world actually is. He was planning to put a DVD on afterwards when the knock to the door came.

He looked up from the puppy who, at the sound, had looked up at the door and then gone right back to happily chasing a ball across his open living area; the furniture had been re-arranged so that there were no ways for Duck to hurt himself or get stuck. It took him a few days for Clay himself to get used to the new arrangement, especially in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep and decided to go into the living room to watch TV and nearly broke his neck falling over various pieces of furniture.

Figuring that it was his neighbour returning the DVD he'd borrowed he got up and made his way to the door, head turned slightly so he could watch Duck as he went. Halfway towards the door he froze, suddenly not trusting his own senses. Well, it wasn't a matter of trusting one's senses, more knowing that what his senses were telling him clearly wasn't actually possible; there was no way she could know where he lived, no way. No. Way. Then again, he really, really didn't want to open the door and be proved right. So he edged towards the door and peered through the peephole in the door, and nearly slammed his head against said door upon realising his suspicions were right.

God, you really have a shit sense of humour, mate. Why is she here? Why? He looked back at Duck accusingly, as if the puppy had something to do with his. He wouldn't put it past Blu to have put a tracking device on the collar. Duck, however, merely sat, staring at him, head tilted lightly to one side as if to say 'whut?' Maybe if I ignore her she'll go away. I'll pretend not to be in. Yeah.

[Blu]

There was no answer to her knock, Blu inwardly deflating a little at that although she refused to give up hope just yet. He could just be taking his time to actually reach the door, especially if it was filled with all sorts of obstacles between the other rooms and the main entrance and exit to the apartment, in the same manner that her own apartment was laid out in. She leaned forward a little, lose strands of hair brushing against the door as Blu listened hard, hoping to catch the sound of footfalls or some other hint to let her know that he was inside. She just… didn’t think she could handle being alone right now.

“I know you’re in there,” Blu announced in a matter of fact tone to the door. “I can hear you breathing.” She paused suddenly, a thoughtful frown creasing her forehead as another thought came to her. “Unless you’re not actually Clay and you are actually a robber in which case, don’t kill me for interrupting your wicked and dastardly plan to rob him but you sorta picked the wrong apartment to steal from, he won’t like what you’ve done and I think he’d get his own back. And you better not have hurt Duck!”

[Barclay]

For a brief moment of bliss, Clay thought Blu was going to give up and go home. It was a stupid thought. After the way Blu had railroaded him into adopting Duck, he should have known that she isn't the kind to give up so easily on anything. He rolled his eyes at her words, nearly smirking despite his mild irritation. Upon hearing Blu's voice, Duck had given a gleeful yip and bounded over to the door, scratching at the door whilst looking up at Clay expectantly. So much for pretending not to be in. Thanks, mutt.

Putting the chain on the door, he unlocked and opened it as far as the chain would allow, looking at his unexpected visitor with a very unimpressed stare. "What are you doing here?" He glanced at her, noting the tins under her arms and realising that she actually intended to stay a while. Good thing the chain was on the door; no person could slide through that gap. Unfortunately, a puppy could, and Duck trotted out to greet Blu by pawing at her shoes.

[Blu]

There had been about a fifty/fifty chance that her declaration was going to work, Blu not sure what Plan C would have been. Thankfully it seemed as though she wouldn’t have to find out as the door was opened; as far as the chain allowed. She didn’t appear put off by it one little bit or even disheartened by the look Clay was giving her – Blu had been looking after a cat and Clay was going to have to work a darn sight harder to try and match those stares with ones Mica gave whenever Blu failed to live up to her standards.

“Hi Clay, Hey Duck, how’s my favourite little puppy?” Blu greeted, attention diverted from Clay to the little guy pawing at the edge of her Dr. Martens. She carefully placed the medium sized tin down on the floor, back of dog biscuits resting on top of it, realising the gift wouldn’t fit through the gap which she felt was rather unfair of Clay. Duck bounded into her arms, Blu giving a little laugh at the enthusiastic greeting. “I brought you cookies.” She announced, gaze shifting just as sharply back to the man behind the door.

[Barclay]

He needed a drink, a very, very stiff drink and preferably straight out of the bottle. At least he could take comfort in the fact that she wouldn't be getting inside the flat, especially since he put the chain lock on, something that he seemed particularly proud about thinking of... which was actually pretty sad. He hardly ever got visitors and when he did he was nearly always hostile towards them, probably more out of habit than actual dislike of the current company; it doesn't serve well for a drug dealer to be overfriendly with anyone.

Clay watched the exchange between Duck and Blu without a word, considering for one small moment the option of just slamming the door shut and shunning them both. The idea was dismissed as soon as it entered his head, especially once he realised that now that Blu knew where he lived she probably wouldn't let him get away with it. He gave a short, irritated sigh. How did I get so whipped?

At her statement he looked at the tin by the girl's feet; he had to admit, the smell of those cookies was pretty damn good, and it wasn't like she'd cause too much hassle, would she? Again, stupid statement on his part. Still, he eventually relented, not wanting to seem like too much of a egotistical, rude bugger. He reached up and undid the chain, inwardly rolling his eyes at himself as he left the door open and turned his back to head back and throw himself on his sofa. I'm basing a decision to let some crazy woman inside my flat based on a tin of cookies. I've finally gone batshit.

[Blu]

That… had been far easier than Blu had honestly expected. There was the part of her that was determined to push at Clay until he gave in, wanting nothing more to be his friend and he hers and then there was the part of her – hidden and quiet as it normally was – that knew the idea was a long way from the reality and that she had a long way to go before getting that.

“You’re a good dog, Duck,” Blu whispered softly, ruffling the back of his head, behind his ears. “You’ve been keeping an eye on him right?” Duck whined softly, apparently in agreement and Blu grinned, pleased once again. She wasn’t going to question why Clay had decided to let her in, content to chose that it had been the cookies which had swayed his mind – there had to be a reason after all why the dark side advertised them as a way to draw people in. Perhaps they needed to take a leaf out of that book when it came to fighting crime. Give cookies to people who turned themselves in… no, that wouldn’t work, the last thing Blu wanted was a rash of crimes committed just so people could claim the cookie. Maybe they needed to look even further back, all the way to the Roman’s who had all but bribed the population with bread and circus. Bribing the population with cookies to behave could be the way to go.

She wasn’t just some crazy woman, she was Blu and she had a plan. Of sorts. Carefully she scooped up the tin and the dog treats, Duck pressing against her leg as she moved through to the inside of the apartment, taking care to make sure the puppy was inside before shutting the door. Blu ignored the fact Clay was sulking on his sofa, chattering away in a cheery voice instead;

“It’s a selection I wasn’t sure what you liked, you would have had less but Mr. Mondale is diabetic so I couldn’t give him any, I’ll have to bake him some specially and come back later. We’ve got shortbread, cookies, chocolate chip and double chocolate chip, gingerbread, some sort of weird scone stuff that the book suggested…”

[Barclay]

Bearing in mind that Clay has never in his life had any friends, Blu's assumptions that it may take a while were probably more true than Clay would ever admit. He'd never had any need to make friends. Acquaintances, sure, he had plenty of those, mostly connections in the drug and criminal underworld thanks to his boss, but friends? It was particularly sad to note that Duck was probably the closest to a friend he'd ever had... poor Blu still had a ways to go before achieving the same status; he was going to fight tooth and nail against any sort of attempt by any human to infiltrate his personal space

He cast a sideways glance towards Blu as she closed the door and walked in with her arms full. He honestly still didn't know what to make of her; he was her drug dealer. He gave her drugs. People do not make friends with their drug dealers. Well, normal people wouldn't, which probably more or less answers his own exasperated thoughts. He still had to wonder why she was making such an effort to prise her way into his comfortable little shell, she should have enough other people to annoy and drive to the brink of insanity to, you know, leave Clay's sanity in tact.

He listened to her prattle on about cookies for a good five minutes before giving a nonchalant grunt, shrugging in a way to let his indifference be known. He was more of a brownie-man anyway, not that those cookies didn't smell really damn good. No, he had to be strong.

[Blu]

Just because Clay sold… alternative pain relief, didn’t mean he wasn’t a person and everyone body needed friends, needed company at the very least. Duck was a very good start in making sure Clay wasn’t completely isolated from the rest of the word but he was exactly that; a start.

Part of Blu knew her actions in coming here were stupid and dangerous. It was one thing to buy some weed from him in the street purely to alleviate the pain and nausea, that she could probably get away with, but it was quite another thing to activity seek him out and bring him cookies as though he was a friend, all the while concealing from her bosses that she knew someone breaking the law. That sort of thing could get her into huge trouble if anyone found out. Blu refused to think about that though, not wanting to give that sort of negative thinking any power.

She didn’t believe that he was as uninterested in the cookies as he was pretending to be. Everybody was weak against the dark power of baked goodness and if Clay wasn’t, well he wouldn’t have let her in. Blu moved over towards him, settling herself comfortably into the reclining chair near the sofa, twisting her body so she was facing him. “Want one? Or all rather, but you have to start with one. Everything starts with one.” Blu prized off the lid of the tin so that the aroma was really obvious now and held it out to him.

[Barclay]

The thought had crossed his mind about whether she thought about the dangers of coming to the flat of a known drug-dealer with cookies and proclamations of friendship. It wasn't very often his immediate bosses or fellow dealers came around to his place but it did happen and things wouldn't have ended very nice for Blu if she'd pissed one of them off, which, by the way, was more than a distinct possibility. The very fact that she bypassed the possible dangers of coming to his flat made him wonder if there was more to her visit than being annoying, but the thought was pushed to the back of his mind, mainly because Blu was now sat in his recliner, staring at him.

Not exactly breaking news, but Blu was an evil, evil woman. The smell from the now open tin of cookies was growing more tempting by the second, which only served to tell Clay he wasn't as fussy about his baked goodies as he liked to believe. Still, he liked to keep face... as much as he could around someone who didn't seem phased by anything at all.

"No, thanks," he replied, leaning down and picking up the nearest toy - a tennis ball - and tossing it across the floor for Duck to chase. He watched the puppy for a few seconds before continuing in a rather cold tone, "Why are you here?"

It was a valid question. Even if she wanted to see the puppy, she didn't need to bring a bloody great tin of cookies, that implied that she intended to stay for a while. He half wondered why she didn't go to someone else and bother them, someone like her must have some friends hidden away somewhere, ready to pounce on them at any given moment whether they wanted her to or not. Why did she want to bother him?

[Blu]

The smile she gave Clay implied that she wasn’t buying his denials about wanting cookies one little bit. He’d crumble under the threat of delicious baked treats, of that Blu was sure. Who didn’t love biscuits and cookies? If anything, the sight of Clay throwing a toy for Duck – an actual, real dog toy that she hadn’t bought and so that meant he had, which meant he was bonding with his puppy – only strengthened her resolve that she was doing the right thing. If Duck had worked out so well, then a tin of harmless cookies would be fine.

“To give you cookies and visit Duck,” Blu replied promptly, still smiling although it faded a little. She looked down at the tin, fidgeting slightly in the seat, tugging ever so subtly at her black lacy fingerless gloves. “I’ve been baking a lot and well, everyone else has had cookies and you hadn’t and I thought you need some cookies since I made them and I would have told you I was coming but I don’t know your phone number and it was all on the spur of the moment anyway.” The words were spoken in a great rush of breath, each demanding to be said and far more besides. She clamped down on her speech, still looking at the cookies. Everyone else bar Flynn had had some.

She missed Flynn.

“So, cookie?” Her head snapped back up, all trace of uncertainty and sorrow vanishing.

[Barclay]

Quite honestly he was beginning to grow tired of constantly trying to defend himself and his stance against Blu, who, technically speaking, was the invader here. He was well aware of the way she had looked at the tennis ball when he had thrown it for Duck, and knew that his buying toys gave away his true feelings about the puppy, which weren't actually as negative as he'd like for Blu to believe. It was slowly dawning on him how Blu works; she decides on a truth and runs with it. In a steamroller. He really had no chance from the very beginning, so trying to convince her of anything was like trying to get toothpaste back into the tube.

He eyed her closely as she spoke, seeing something in her that he hadn't ever seen; vulnerability. It had been slight, and given what Blu was normally like with him he wasn't even entirely sure he'd seen what he'd seen. As much as he liked to tell himself that other people's lives weren't any of his concern and that this was another one of those issues that Clay wouldn't broach, he had to admit that he was curious.

At the return of her bright grin and the further offer of cookies he sighed, pushing himself off the sofa and padding through to the kitchen where he spent the next few minutes getting a couple of plates and two glasses of milk before returning and putting them onto the coffee table that the chairs were placed around. It was his special way of relenting.

He did, however, have a word to say about her unannounced visit. "You should be careful about just dropping by like this, I don't exactly keep the friendliest of acquaintances, y'know."

[Blu]

She didn’t know exactly what to expect when he simply stood and moved into the other room and for a moment Blu had feared that the cookies had failed to move him. The cookies had failed. Then he had returned, carrying with him the milk and plates, Blu realising that it had been silly of her to imagine even for a moment that the cookies she had brought with her would do anything other than bend him.

Blu kept her smile even, not wanting to admit to Clay that she was imagining hugging him right now in her head, completely in glee. Hugging him with her mind. Now that would be an awesome super power to have, the ability to hug people from afar. It was no secret within the people Blu knew and worked with that she adored to give her friends warm and friendly hugs as often as she could. The young woman was an affectionate person by nature, someone who didn’t see anything wrong in a hug being used as a way to say ‘thank you’ or ‘It’s good to see you’ or ‘oh wow, one of my favourite bands released a new song, yay’. The idea that someone wouldn’t appreciate many hugs rarely occurred to her, but she kept quiet about it for the time being, somehow sensing it might spook Clay a little too much.

Even if he clearly was the sort of person who needed many friends hugs.

“I’m sorry,” Blu replied, tone and words honest. She did regret not giving him some warning even if the small cynical part of her that could rarely be heard pointed out he probably would have made sure to not be in if she’d told him. “I didn’t know your phone number, but I’ll make sure to give you some advance warning next time.”