Does It Count As Taking Him Home If This Is The First Time He's Been Here?
Do you know what to do with a sobbing kid? Not really, no! But just holding onto Dave seems to at least not make anything worse, so that's the course of action you settle on—just holding him, not trying to jerk away from his stranglehold around your neck.
(Well not literally a stranglehold. You can breathe, there's not even a little pressure on your throat. It's fine. It'd be fine even if he was actually choking you.)
He still hasn't told you what triggered this, though, and you do kind of want to know. Problem is, you're fairly sure he won't be offering up any info. Which means...it's time for very careful guesswork and questioning.
Or it will be, once Dave quiets down a bit more. You give it about three minutes, and then ask, "Is this about Venom?"
"...what." The kid tips his head back until he can actually look at you, finally loosening his grip on your neck. You're not sure if it's because crying wore him out enough that the stoic mask he tries to wear slipped, or if you're just getting better at reading him, but either way the outcome's the same; you can read the tired confusion on his face.
Actually, the fact that his shades are AWOL is probably helping too. Definitely lets you see that he's not getting enough sleep, going by the dark smudges under his eyes. Even taking the tear-induced puffiness into account, that's not great.
Wait, you were having a conversation here.
"The goo. Was that a factor in, in..." Ah, what to call the current meltdown. Not a meltdown, that's for sure. You settle for taking one hand off Dave's back and gesturing vaguely at him, the laptop on the floor, Neet. (Neet is currently pecking industriously at the pattern on one of the pillows. You really hope she doesn't actually manage to peck that off.) "In...this? Because I swear, it's not in you anymore; they can't bond with more than one person at a time, and they're not going to leave Eddie. You're good. Nobody in there but you."
Dave makes a stifled noise when you finish that statement off by ruffling his hair; you're reasonably confident that it's a positive sound. Although you're not so sure whether his shifting off your lap to sit next to you, just far away enough to not touch is good or bad. He lets his hands drop into his lap instead of immediately reaching for Neet, though, so you're going to give it a tentative neutral ranking.
"It's not the fuckin' goo," he says, after long enough that you're seriously considering offering up more possibilities. "I texted D, is all."
Ooh. Fury. That's such a fun little emotion to have. "And he fucked your head up, huh?" You're going to kill that prick. Well, no, not kill him, you wouldn't actually do that to his kids, but maybe stab him a little.
Dave shakes his head, though, and—oh, shit, he's rubbing at his eyes. It's a one-handed gesture, the heel of his hand swiping slowly up from one side and then the other, close to a subconscious thing. Or maybe not, because he doesn't look at you as he does it.
You wait. You're not very good at it, but hey, that doesn't mean you can't manage.
"He said I'm his kid." That comes out very fucking softly, and the next sentence has a couple hitches in the middle; he's pretty damn close to losing his fragile hold on the waterworks here. "He—he said he missed me, dude, he wa—wants me home, stupid fuckin' mushy shit, he loves me—"
Yeah, the hopeless hopeful confusion in those last three words kind of breaks you. Rationally, you're aware that the kid probably doesn't want to just be yoinked up for another hug without any kind of warning, but realistically?
He needs it. And thankfully, Dave seems to agree with that, because all he does is fold up against you, close his eyes and start to sob again.
Somehow you're not even a little surprised that after the half hour or so that he spends that close and vulnerable, Dave spends the next four days pretending it never happened. He probably could have gone longer pretending it never happened, but thanks to your new and improved take on just how badly he wants to join back up with members of his family, four days is all it takes to make it to the address that Lalonde texts you to deliver him to.
(If she still thinks this is a delivery, she's delusional.)
Dave doesn't move when you turn the key in the ignition. Just stares out the window, stroking the crow in his lap. "Fuck."
"Care to elaborate on that?" You have a cup of coffee in the cupholder, still full because Dave goes stiff every time you take your hand off the wheel and still hot because insulated cups are amazing. Now seems like a good time to make it a little less full.
"How deep is that snow, exactly?"
That's not the question he wants to ask. You answer it like you don't know that it isn't. "Ten miles from here it was nine inches, if you believe the weatherman on the TV this morning. Usually that's a good move. They have scientific tape measures they use for this kind of thing."
"Great, so you could hide a fuckin' fully erect pornstar under there," Dave mutters. Then he has the nerve to look surprised that you just choked on a mouthful of coffee. "Dude."
"You're the one who heard 'nine inches' and immediately thought 'dick,' shut up." There's coffee all over the steering wheel. You consider it for a moment, then shrug and lean over to pop the glove compartment, retrieving your mask from where you stashed it. "Are you ready to go in?"
It's not even kind of a surprise when Dave shakes his head, hunching down inside that oversized coat like he expects retaliation for the wrong answer. Sad, but not unexpected. "No."
"Okay. Dave. Hey." When he looks at you, you ask him, "Are you ever going to be ready? Like I'm not saying you have to go or you don't have to go—this is totally your choice."
"Rose hired you to—"
"Eh, fuck that. Fuck the job, fuck the money, fuck Rose, this is about you."
Dave's face goes as blank as if he's been struck, at that sentence. This is one of those infrequent moments when even all your knowledge of the nature of the situation you're in gives you absolutely no insight on what's about to happen; for once, all you can do is wait.
Then he nods, scoops up Neet and tucks her into his hood, and opens the car door. You pull your mask on and hop out right behind him.
Time to meet the Striders.