Chapter Text
It was half-past noon, the sun–high in the sky and burning just as bright– beating down on the house. The residents in said house had just finished their midday meals for the day, which had been something the homeowner whipped up quickly. Filled with potatoes and carrots.
Like usual.
Wireface just completed washing his dish, quickly placing it on the counter close to the sink, brushing past the teenager who pushed her bowl towards him.
He knew that she wanted him to clean it, this having become an established routine, but Wireface had plans set in place beforehand - not willing to wait to delay them further than he already had.
Speedwalking to the closet, Wireface’s fingers flexed in excitement before wrapping around the doorhandle.
Opening and shutting the door quickly, muttering out a swift apology to the paranoid woman for frightening her, Wireface reached up to one of the many boxes that occupied the closet’s shelves. He pulled out a sleek black camera that was hidden in one of those containers, its smooth-hard plastic sliding satisfying in his palms.
Wireface turned to look at it from all angles, watching it shine in the dim closet light.
Sitting against the shelving and feeling the slabs of wood dig into his back, Wireface bit his lip, stopping almost immediately as a rush of pain stung his lips. Bringing his hand up to massage the puncture wounds Wireface used his other hand to trace over the buttons and compartments of the camera.
His fingers danced over the settings buttons carefully, feeling the dips and bumps. A slightly pained smile spread across his lips.
Earlier, Wireface had begged the homeowner for it, repeating the word ‘camera’ best he could until the homeowner begrudgingly threw it at him.
Wireface thought that the camera could be a new source of entertainment. The only things he had available to occupy his time was beat up old games that he didn't understand and his own imagination.
Wireface’s attention was eventually drawn to the other occupant of the closet when he heard her confused voice.
Looking up, the red-haired woman was looking at him through her bands, having scooted closer to him.
“Hliib, dszg?(Sorry, what?)” Wireface leaned towards her as if it would help him to understand her better.
The woman’s eyebrows furrowed as she rubbed her arm up and down with the other hand.
“Um…I asked why you had the homeowners camera, if that’s…what you asked.” She replied, her hand previously being used coming up to her mouth. She began to gnaw on the nail and surrounding skin.
A habit of hers–Wireface has come to notice.
“R’n hliib, R xzm’g fmwvihgzmw blf, dszg wrw blf hzb?(I’m sorry, I can’t understand you, what did you say?)” Wireface set the camera into his lap, tilting his head to the side.
“Um..hahaha…what..?” The woman’s shoulders shook in tandem with her nervous laughter. She lowered her hand into her lap.
Her eyes traveled from the camera sat in Wireface’s lap, then up to his eyes.
Wireface followed her gaze. Was she asking something about the camera?
“Ziv blf zhprmt zylfg gsv xznviz? Ru blf’iv dimwvirmt slf rg dliph, r xzm hslf blf.(Are you asking about the camera? If you’re wondering how it works, I can show you.)” Wireface offered, holding the camera up with a small grin.
The woman held her hands up quickly and waved them in a frantic ‘no’ gesture.
“Oh! Um, no I-I don’t want my photo taken, if that’s what you said. Haha…” She trailed off again with her anxious laughter. Her eyes darted around the room, occasionally meeting with Wireface’s.
He sighed.
This seemed to be a bit of a pattern, she would try to talk to him–or vis-versa–and neither of the two could understand the other, to which they would then fall back into shared awkward silence. She would sometimes just let him talk whenever he got particularly bored, even if she didn’t understand a single word he was saying. Wireface appreciated it.
At least someone was willing to listen to his chatter.
The woman eventually slinked back into her part of the closet, the small corner that she somehow managed to look cramped and uncomfortable.
Her hand was still attached to her pearly whites, the ridges of her teeth tearing at feeble keratin and flesh.
The sound of her chewing and spitting out nail and skin pieces filled the room.
Wireface went back to his camera, turning it around to where the concealed lens was facing him. He ran his fingertips against it, the polish material gliding against them.
He slumped against the shelves heavily, feeling his shirt ride up a bit.
Eyes scanning the ceiling, he started to go over the options for photo subjects.
He quickly ruled out the paranoid woman and the homeowner. The anxious woman would more than likely fidget and move constantly when Wireface would want her to sit still.
And Wireface was almost one hundred percent sure the homeowner would rather shoot himself with his own gun than have his photo taken.
Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but Wireface didn’t think the homeowner would allow him to take photos anytime soon.
So Wireface’s thoughts wandered to the other guests of the house.
In the kitchen, there was a short man with a beige shirt that read ‘amogus’--whatever that meant–a woman who looked like she just left a coven, and two young girls, that–from what Wireface had witnessed–didn’t get along very well.
The bathroom housed a man who smelt like a skunk as well as a mourning woman who kept her deceased husband’s rotting corpse in the bathtub.
The living room contained a freakishly tall man who stunk of beer and cigarettes, a woman only a few inches taller than Wireface himself, and a man who seemed to always be cold despite the scorching heat of the sun.
A man who seemed to be outstandingly cheerful for the current state of the world sat in a chair in the office.
Tonguing his wounds absentmindedly, Wireface contemplated his options.
The short man might allow him to photograph him, but he didn’t seem the type to put up playing charades long enough for Wireface to get all the photos he would want. Wireface felt like the witch was the kind of woman to ask people to take photos of her, but she creeped him out too much to ask her.
The teenager and little girl probably wouldn’t comprehend his requests, the former more out of malice than the other.
Wireface couldn’t stand the smell in the bathroom–a mixture of decay and weed–so those options were quickly discarded.
From his observations, the tall man didn’t seem very social(aside from the homeowner, for some reason), and the tall woman–much like the witch–frightened him too much for him to speak to her directly.
The cold man usually never left his hunched over position on the couch, so Wireface doubted he would move enough to pose.
The cheerful man would more than likely allow him, evidently the friendliest in the house.
Mulling over his options, the man in the office was obviously the most approachable candidate.
So Wireface decided to ask him first.
Emerging from the closet, Wireface shut the closet door gently and fished out the camera from his pocket. He popped out the lens, watching it blink to life.
He reached the office quickly from eagerness, the hand that wasn’t holding the camera reaching for the doorknob.
“I wouldn’t open that.”
The tired, grainy voice of the homeowner startled him, causing him to jump.
Wireface’s hand hit the knob as he jolted, recoiling as dull pain blossomed in the start of his fingers.
Stuffing the camera back into his pocket and nursing his fingers, Wireface turned with a confused look to the homeowner.
“Dszg?(What?)”
The other man shifted to face half-way towards the door. He pointed at it, glancing over at Wireface to make sure he was looking.
“He died last night, and I haven’t finsihed…cleaning the..mess.” The homeowner's eyes gained a far-away look, his feet shuffling as his other hand reached up and clutched the sling of his gun.
Wireface eyed it warily.
“Hliib, what?(Sorry, what?)” Wireface rubbed his fingers together to will the pain away faster. His eyes flicked down to the homeowner’s.
The homeowner’s mouth flattened, seemingly recognizing what Wireface said.
He pointed to the door, then drew a line across his neck.
Wireface’s eyes widened with understanding, his hands tangling together. His eyes scurried around the doorframe.
“Blf…Blf proovw srn? Dzh sv z erhrgli?(You...You killed him? Was he a visitor?)” Wireface asked, green eyes flicking back to the homeowner anxiously.
Their eyes met, staying locked for a few seconds, although it felt much longer to the taller of the two.
Wireface broke their staring contest by peering up again at the others' shotgun.
“Dvoo?(Well?)” Wireface locked eyes again with the other, green eyes meeting, watching as they widened just a bit.
The other man blinked, mouth opened just a smidge.
“I don’t know what you said.” He gave Wireface that look that he recognized as his ‘I-don’t-know-what-you-said’ face.
Wireface huffed a breath through his nose, eyes drifting slowly back to the door. His mouth contorted a bit, tongue tracing along his brownish, blood-stained teeth.
Wireface pointed to the door, “Viss-hitor.….yes?”
The others' eyes softened with realization.
“Oh, no. No he wasn’t.” The homeowner shook his head lightly in a negative motion.
Wireface sighed. He ran a hand through his curls, grimacing as he felt the unwashed locks.
“Tivzg. Hl gsviv’h z erhrgli znlmt fh.(Great. So there’s a visitor among us.)” Wireface muttered to himself, his mouth slipping into a deep frown.
After silence had fallen over them, Wireface, lost in thought, looks up at the sound of feet moving past him.
The homeowner was walking down the hall, done with their misshapen conversion and heading to the phone.
At the same time the house’s orange cat rounded the corner, trotting up to the homeowner once it noticed him. It began to rub against the wall, meowing up at him.
The homeowner glanced down at the fat feline, picking up the phone and beginning to fidget with a piece of paper stuck to the wall, fingers pressing carelessly against the push buttons.
He presses the slim phone between the junction of his shoulder and his ear, bending down to pick up the cat. Letting out a soft grunt as he lifts the chubby cat up to his chest, the homeowner held it like a baby, scratching its scalp with his calloused, manish hands.
He rocked it a bit like an infant, the cat leaning its head against his cut nails as he itched between its ears.
Wireface let out a small laugh, eyes glimpsing between the homeowner and the office door.
Wireface let out a shaky sigh, twiddling his thumbs together uneasily and began to step away from the room.
So the cheerful man was apparently unavailable.
———
About an hour had passed, and Wireface went through the other possible muses.
It went about as well as he assumed it would.
The tall man in the living room didn’t seem too happy to be bothered, so that option was quickly dismissed. The tall woman had stared at him while he bothered the other man, her unblinking beady eyes scaring him off.
The cold man wasn’t there, for whatever reason. Apparently he could move.
The tall man muttered something under his breath when he noticed Wireface looking at the spot the freezing man usually sat.
The ‘amogus’ shirt man was too busy talking the witches ear off about something, although she didn’t seem too interested. The teenager just turned him away quickly with a harsh glare, and the younger girl just dragged him to the table to draw, calling the way he spoke ‘funny’.
Wireface would have taken mild offence if he understood what she said.
Which is how he ended up where he currently was, taking a seat at the kitchen table with the little girl perched on his leg as they drew together.
The little girl had been turning back to him every now and then to show off her current drawing, Wireface in turn getting up every time and hanging them up on the fridge with miscellaneous magnets he found lying in the junk drawer.
By the time Wireface finished his drawing of the house's fat cat, the homeowner entered the room to begin cooking dinner.
He dropped his gun by the entrance of the room with a roll of his shoulders and a soft sigh.
Wireface shared a quick nod with the other man.
The teenager joined the two of them soon after the homeowner stepped into the kitchen, taking out a used notepad and pencil from her bag.
Noticing that she was trying to sneakily take a crayon, Wireface silently gathered them to sit in the middle of the table. The teenager seemed to appreciate it, if her small smile was anything to go by.
The smell of beef gradually filled the room, subtle hints of mushroom and various sauces following it.
Wireface turned to the door at the sound of it creaking open, to Wireface’s mild surprise–the cold man entered.
The orange cat bound in after him, weaving between his steps.
Wireface watched as the freezing man approached the homeowner with dragging feet, looking over the other's shoulder. The man’s hands were tucked under his arms, teeth chattering almost inconspicuously as he stared at the stove.
The homeowner noticed his staring and muttered something to him. The cold man uttered something back with a surprisingly deep voice.
The homeowner turned on the stove top next to the one he was using, scooting over to make room for the trembling man. The cold man’s hands removed themselves from their place tucked into his armpits and hovered over the stove like an open fire.
The cat jumped up onto the countertop and meowed gruffly at the homeowner. The homeowner turned to pet it, Wireface noticing a faint smile as he did so.
He continued to multitask with his hands until there was a sudden knock at the front door, catching his attention. He turned to the cold man and asked him something, the other nodding to him as a response.
The homeowner left soon after, grabbing and slinging his shotgun across his back as he shut the kitchen door.
Wireface spared a quick peek over to the stove, seeing the cold man looking over the food and stirring it a bit with the ladle.
Wireface turned back to look at the little girl when she tugged on his shirt gently.
She showed off her drawing of the homeowner and the cat, the owner in blue and the cat in orange. Wireface smiled at her drawing, grabbing it gently and getting up to hang it on the fridge like he had with the others.
Wireface heard the cat meowing again behind him–louder this time–seeming to want attention.
Peeking over, he saw the cold man pushing the cat away from him with the clean side of the ladle he held.
The cat eventually gave up, huffing and jumping down to the kitchen table.
Wireface walked back over to his chair, holding his hand out and cooing at the cat.
It approached him with a bit of hesitance, bumping its wet nose against his palm. After sniffing, it rammed its head into his hand.
Wireface pet the cat, feeling its short orange hair glide underneath his fingers. Wondering what its name was, he looked up to the other occupants of the table.
“Wl zmb lu blf pmld gsv prggb’h mznv? Rh rg z ylb li z trio?(Do any of you know the kitty’s name? Is it a boy or a girl?)” Wireface was met with varying looks of confusion across the table.
He sighed lightly and laughed it off. He sat down, the little girl climbing back into his lap.
The cat jumped down to join her, laying in her lap. She squealed quietly, petting the fat cat and stopping to scratch under its chin. Wireface joined in, petting its back and twirling his hand around its tail occasionally.
While watching the wholesome moment, Wireface heard the cold man behind him clear his throat to speak.
“Gsv x-xzg’h mznv rh ‘Naperdish’, R s-svziw gsv l-ldmvi xzoo rg gszg. R wlm’g pmld gsv t-t-tvmwvi gslfts.(The c-cats name is ‘Naperdish’, I h-heard the o-owner call it that. I don’t know the g-g-gender though.)” The cold man answered, looking at Wireface over his shoudler with his usual deadpan expression.
Wireface mimicked the other action, his hand pausing. He resumed petting the cat when it meowed in protest.
While continuing to pet, Wireface asked, “Blf, um blf uh…blf hkvzp Tvlitrzm?(You, um you uh…you speak Georgian?)”
“Ls bvzs, R-R o-ovzimvw rg wfirmt x-xloovtv.(Oh yeah, I-I l-learned it during c-college.)” Wireface heard the other man’s feet shuffle against the tile as he spoke.
Wireface swallowed the saliva that was gathered in his mouth thickly, bringing his hand away from the cat–much to its displeasure–to bring both of them together to fiddle with in barely concealed excitement.
Finally, someone here who could understand him.