mortalcoil | IC INBOX

[ It's not that he doesn't sleep, but the days of uninterrupted sleep are long behind him. He used to be able to sleep through pretty much anything, but days in the Fleet tempered the habit. Having to react to random engineering mishaps does that to a guy. At first, he's not sure what wakes him, but laying in bed listening to the almost-silence of the townhouse is broken quickly by the low rumbling of his belly.

Sighing, absolutely annoyed that his comfortable position has been betrayed by his craving for a late-night snack, he shuffles out of bed and downstairs. A few of them creak under his weight on the way down, helping to announce his presence. The light is on in the kitchen, and he frowns when he catches sight of the clock. It's late- close to two in the morning. He finds Coil hunched over something he's working on, papers spread over part of the kitchen table.

He nods to Coil if he bothers looking up from his work, but Carl goes about his own business, grabbing some peanut butter protein gel from the replicator and some crackers from the cupboard. Plopping down in one of the adjacent chairs, he glances over some of the papers curiously. ]

What're you working on?

[Coil does immediately glance up when he hears the creak of floorboards--more habits that are hard to shake when you're still ruled by survival instincts--but he's quick to return to his work when he spots Carl. He'd been so wrapped up in his writing, helped along by the late-night exhaustion, that he'd had one of those moments when the brain spins upon resurfacing to the present. It takes him that moment to remember that he's still in this silly foreign world, there are no vampires, and his roommate isn't the one that he's used to seeing lurking out of the dark.

Automatically, he reaches to push some of the scattered papers into a more condensed pile, making it look like he's just tidying up and not reflexively moving to hide his work.

It's not like it would be very decipherable to someone who doesn't know what they're looking at, anyway. Cryptic diagrams and notes packed together in neat, cramped letters, and none of it written in English.

He shrugs and spells out "homework," before pointing at Carl and signing, "Can't sleep?"]

[ It's definitely nothing he can decipher, though Coil's handwriting is much neater than his own. Kind of hard to put together what he's actually looking at, though he feels a little cowed when Coil starts straightening papers. He was snooping, it's true, and the neater piles make it harder to do that. He goes back to his midnight snack, one foot tucked under his leg and making himself a little more comfortable. ]

Woke up and decided I needed a snack. [ He even nudges his snack toward Coil in offering. ]

What kind of homework?

[Coil eyes the snack almost in consideration... but it looks like one of those things that would be hard for him to eat, especially without a drink nearby to help out. So, he ultimately shakes his head.

And as he rubs his eye with one hand, he lazily spells out with the other, "notes" and "magic."]

[ Carl doesn't take it personally, just shrugs and continues nibbling on his snack. More for him. He follows along with the words and immediately perks up. ]

What kind of magic?

[Coil... frowns to himself at that. It has been a while since he has had to think about other people seeing and asking about the things he can do. There had even been a healthy distance between he and Zhas when it came to the topic of his magic.

But, Zhas had at least known a little bit about what was going on. Even in the fleet, he'd had to tell his crewmates enough to keep them from getting too curious on their own.

He waggles one hand back and forth a little bit, before forming the sign for "complicated." And he gestures at the pile of papers and the beaten-up journal he's working out of. The papers are new, but the journal looks like something Coil has probably carried with him for years, filled to the brim with notes and drawings.

"Needs lots of work. Studying. Practicing," he signs.]

[ If Coil thought that would dissuade Carl, he was very wrong. He's got nothing but time, and he's given it quite a bit of thought and talked through some things with Lup. He definitely understands that it's not just something one picks up automatically, and like everything, you don't get better without practice. Or the ability to actually do magic. ]

Hopefully, I'll be able to start studying soon. I've wanted to do it for a while, but it wasn't really possible until Havenwell.

[ Not making much money is not conducive to actually gaining the ability, though. Which sucks. ]

[Coil's brow raises in surprise. He points at Carl questioningly, followed by his own abbreviated sign for 'magic.']

No magic at home. [ He wiggles his fingers at Coil. ]

But here, you can purchase abilities. I just have, like, zero money.

[Coil looks highly skeptical, like he's about to scoff at the idea of someone just buying a magic ability... but as he himself had more or less done that at the fleet, he keeps the comment to himself.

Instead, he only asks, "What kind?"]

I really want to help people. Lup called it.. Abjuration? I think? Protective magic, anyway.

[ It feels silly talking about it, but it's something he really wants to devote his time to. ]

[Carl can feel as silly about it as he wants, but Coil seems interested. He perks up and searches for words for a moment, before finally just spelling out what he wants to say instead of trying to work with the proper signs for them.

"Wards? Shields?"]

[ Carl nods enthusiastically and repeats back 'shields'. ]

I want to learn other things too, in case something comes up.. it'd be nice how to know how to keep someone from bleeding out.

[Okay, that enthusiasm is a little contagious. In talking about wards and shields, Coil points to himself and nods, then holds up two fingers to indicate something small. His magic might be of a completely different school from what they're talking about, but he knows a few ward and hold spells.

And as for keeping someone from bleeding out, Coil points at him and asks, "Know medicine, some?"]

[ Hey, he at least understands that Coil knows some, which makes him a bit more excited. Once he has the ability, maybe Coil can teach him a thing or two. At the question, he looks sheepish. ]

Not enough to say so.

[Coil nods again! He isn't one to ever really get excited over teaching other people things, but there seems to be a good amount of enthusiasm now. Pointing at himself, he switches between he signs and spellings for, "Anatomy, bandage, stitch, emergency."

Which might seem like a little much for a kid who spends his time killing vampires and learning magic to know, but it would have made more sense if Carl had any idea about how Coil's horrible necromancy worked.

He follows it all up with an offer. "Teach?"]

[ He can definitely put everything together, and that makes him all the more enthusiastic. He wants to help, and he wants to be able to use magic where medicine lacks, but he needs a stepping stone. If Coil can help him? All the better. Carl nods, beaming.

"Please"?]

[It's pretty close to a smile, this time. Closer than he usually gets, anyway. He doesn't even notice at first. With how contagious Carl's grin is, he unconsciously begins to mirror it a little before he catches himself.

He looks back down to his notes and nods. "We'll find books," he signs.]

[ He nods and agrees. "We'll find books". Carl sits there and watches Coil work, finishing off the peanut butter in his bowl with a finger. Like a goblin. Really, just content to watch Coil do what he needs to. ]

[Coil manages to work for a few minutes successfully. From the looks of it, he's going through his old journal, reviewing the tangled maze of notes and drawings, and then transcribing them into clearer, newer, expanded versions on the paper he has collected here. Turning footnotes into something he can actually work from, maybe. He is missing his entire library from home, but this will have to do in a pinch.

Only half of his mind is really on his work, though. He's not annoyed that Carl is sitting there, but he is distracted. He can't help thinking about things, chewing on ideas and questions and just the simple fact that he would rather be talking to his friend than doing his homework.

So, eventually, he drops his pen onto the papers in a clear statement of defeat and leans back in his chair to rub his eye again. He signs "bored" with his other hand.]

[ It's quite soothing, watching the rhythmic scribbling on paper even though he's got no idea what Coil's actually putting into writing. Doesn't matter, he enjoys how dutiful Coil attempts to be for a few more minutes. The hour is late, so it's not really a surprise when the other kid does give up. Carl's been watching, face propped up with one hand. When he sees the sign, he huffs out a laugh and takes that as a sign to sit up straight and stretch out a bit.

"That didn't take long." ]

[Coil, who is absolutely that kid who was pressured into settling for nothing less than perfect grades and all the advanced learning he could possibly manage, can't help but get defensive over that. He frowns, looking indignant and gesturing toward the nearest clock.

"Many hours already," he signs, as if Carl had outright called him lazy.]

[ Carl is quick to respond, raising his hands in surrender before signing "it was a joke" ]

I get it, man. It's late.

[ He nods out to the living room with its more comfortable seating. ]

If you don't want to go to sleep, we could always hang out.

[Coil buys himself a minute to try and not feel like a quitter for wanting to stop his studying before the point of falling asleep at the table, busying with straightening up the papers and closing his journal.

Normally, his guilt his more than enough to keep him working until he's ready to drop from exhaustion. But, even with that hanging over his head... he really doesn't want to go back to it right now. As much as he doesn't ever make relaxing a priority, doing nothing but hanging out with his roommate sounds very appealing.

So, with a frown--more at himself than anything--he shrugs like he doesn't care one way or another. Sure, why not?]

[ The good thing about Carl is that he doesn't need to pry about how someone is feeling. Some people don't speak their feelings or.. speak much at all sometimes, and that's fine. He's used to the sullen type, and they're more fun anyway.

Putting his bowl in the sink after getting up to crack his back, Carl shuffles out to the living room and makes himself comfortable on one end of the couch, leaning against the arm and folding his legs up. ]

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