Confrontation, Conversation, Understanding
So.
You're standing here at the top of the stairs, watching D Strider hug his nephew up to his chest, heading him spill out a rambling litany of apologies and rhetorical questions and above all love, and you are totally not even a little bit jealous. That's ridiculous. This is exactly what you wanted to see; the guy obviously cares about Dave, you're still planning on sticking around just in case but this is an excellent start to him getting the kind of life that he deserves...
Yeah, you're jealous. Or something. Look, just because you're capable of having a mental conversation with yourself about your feelings doesn't mean that you automatically get a definitive answer on what the fuck those are. There's a lot of relief going on right now, and a little negative shit seeping in through the edges. Maybe more than a little, you can't tell.
Hey, you're not a good person. That's not even you putting yourself down, that's just a widely recognized fact accepted by just about everyone who's ever met you.
"The crow is on me," Hal announces in a very small voice. You look over and see that yes, she definitely is on him; Neet's settled on his spiky white-blond hair as a nice perch, which doesn't make a lot of sense to you. From the expression on Hal's face, his change in tone is less about fear that she's going to peck him, and more about the worry that he might scare her away; the kid looks delighted.
"...I'm going to get her off you for juuust a second." That can't be a great perch, if for no other reason than that she will lose her balance if he moves; you step up closer to him, bring your hand up behind Neet's feet so she steps up onto your hand like Dave showed you, and transfer her onto his shoulder instead. His shirt might not be thick enough to protect him from her claws, but they shouldn't draw blood or anything, and it's better than having talon dents on his head.
"Pretty little death omen," Hal croons at the bird, reaching up to scratch under her beak. "Rose is going to love you, beauty, she's been trying to figure out how to befriend a murder for years..."
"Rose Lalonde?" That's the one who actually hired you. "She's got a thing for birds too, huh?"
"If they're known for being harbingers of doom? Hell yeah she does." Hal looks up at you and gives you a surprisingly creepy grin. You're impressed. His attention shifts away again when Dirk shoves at the door; this time he steps forward enough to let his brother escape.
"Dick." Dirk, who looks a hell of a lot like the bastard you killed back in Texas but even more like the boy with the crow on his shoulder, raises his hand like he's going to punch Hal in the arm, then changes trajectory and intent halfway through the motion, stroking Neet's back instead. (This brat is getting so much attention today.) He doesn't turn his head towards you, but you've got a feeling that you're getting sized up from behind those pointy shades.
Bit worrisome, when you think about the last guy who had sunglasses like those. Then again, this one's like fourteen and probably won't try to kill you.
"Dirk Strider, right? Hi there. You're the people person, right? The one I need to talk to about my Yelp review? Because I could really use some good ones. I feel like this assassination was totally worth five stars." Yes, this is definitely how you introduce yourself to a teenager you've never met before! This is how it's done.
Well, it did get his attention fully on you. Dirk just stares for about thirty seconds, then shakes his head and slips past you to start down the stairs, with Hal right behind him.
You give them a second, and then follow. As you detour a couple steps to snag the pink thermos that D dropped, you realize that his attention's shifted off Dave and onto you. Do you know what to expect from this development? No.
"Come on, D, share him with the rest of us," Dirk suggests, and the man does exactly that, letting go of the kid as the twins cluster up to pick up any slack D leaves in the affection department. He steps back and holds out his hand, and after a second you remember that you're holding his drink.
"I think we might need to talk," he says as you hand the pink container over. Damn, he's got red eyes too, a bit darker than Dave's but still obviously not normal human issue. How did anyone in this family assume they were normal, exactly? "Kitchen?"
He doesn't touch you, but everything about his body language as he turns away says you don't actually have a choice here. A lot of that has to be deliberate; people don't have that much confidence in their bearing unless they're a little bit crazy or actors. It's entirely possible he's both, actually...
Well, you're pretty confident he's not going to stab you as soon as you're out of the kids' sight, so you might as well follow. Actually, wait—Dave's gone tense, staring at you over Dirk's shoulder.
"One sec." Dave pulls back and Dirk lets him, as you take a step towards them; from the look on Hal's face he's about an inch away from defending them with some really painful action directed at you. You choose to ignore that possibility. "Are you okay for a couple minutes?"
Dave nods, but the look on his face says no even as he says, "Yeah, as long as you don't pick a fuckin' fight."
"I mean, so far I'm two for two on getting punched, but have I really started anything?" Ooh, that's not really making him less worried. "I'm not going to hurt him. Pinky promise."
He just snorts and shakes his head. "You're a dumbass."
"Love you too, kid. Yell if you need me."
D's retreated to a different room by the time you leave Dave in the (maybe) capable hands of Hal and Dirk; you try three doors before you find the one that goes to the kitchen. (Yes, that's mostly because you're nosy. Plus if you find anything like the fridge full of swords back at the apartment in Houston, you're taking Dave the fuck out of here.)
Somehow, you feel like the way you find him perched on the kitchen counter, sipping his drink, isn't supposed to be intimidating. It almost is anyway, which is weird because you don't really get intimidated except under very specific circumstances and no nope you're not doing that right now. Nope. This is a guy you need to figure out, not one you need to hit on. Shut up.
"So." D shifts to set his drink down, crossing his arms as you shut the door and turn back to face him. "Deadpool."
"Let's go with 'Wade.' I feel like that's a lot less awkward at this point. Or you can stick with the scary version if you want."
"I dunno dude, should I be scared?" Something in the guy's face suggests that he won't be. "You planning on chewing me out for not noticing shit again?"
Ooh. Defensive and aggressive. Neat! "Should I?"
"Maybe!" D exhales, one short sharp huff, and hops down off the counter, taking one step towards you before changing his mind and starting to pace back and forth instead, not even glancing up at you. "You'd have a fucking point—I didn't notice shit, did I? Had six fucking years to notice Dave was a meta, my whole fucking life to realize Bro was one—"
"If it helps, that bitch probably didn't present until adulthood." Wow, he's upset. "Stress does it sometimes, triggers the abilities kicking in."
D stops pacing for just long enough to give you a confused look; you're obviously not performing as expected, by defending him. (Hey, you're a rebel.) "Cool, so all I missed was the fact he hurt Dave. Just fucking great."
"Who left first?"
"What?"
"Dave told me about when he was a kid, how he and Dirk grew up together."
"Yeah." He nods, stopping again to lean against the counter and pick up his drink, eyes trained on you like he can read something through a layer of red and black leather. "Out in California. I had Dirk like a year before he brought Dave home; we lived in the same house for like...fuck, five or six years."
"And..."
"We both left."
"Because..."
D opens his mouth, closes it again, and shakes his head. "Family shit."
For fuck's sake. "Have you not figured out yet that I'm on your side here? Or at least not on that fucker's side. Wait, no, I'm specifically on Dave's side. What shape are we even talking about again?"
"No clue." He gives you yet another baffled look, then sighs, shoulders slumping. "You know Rose?"
"She hired me, so I'm going to say yes."
"It was about her mom. Bro and my sister. We got a call, I went north and he went south." D reaches up, rubbing at his eyes with the same absent one-handed gesture you've seen from Dave a couple times. "Look, the people who called us told us Roxanne said some shit that meant she was either crazy or meta—"
"Meta like mutant?"
"Metahuman, yeah. Either way I figured he had the fuckin' right to admit he couldn't deal with it." D laughs, short and almost completely devoid of amusement. "Which didn't. Just canceled his 'n Dave's tickets to New York, got himself some to Texas instead."
"....and you let it go."
This time the look he gives you is equal parts angry and guilty. Kind of a dangerous combination there. "I made the fuckin' choice to wrangle Roxanne 'n handle our kids. Assumed he'd take care of Dave. Then we figured out rehab wasn't gonna fix her like she needed, she took off without her kid, Dirk tested out as a meta—"
"Zappy boy."
"You're making it really difficult to take this shit seriously."
"I tend to have that effect. So you had your hands full here, is that what you're saying?"
"I—" D stops, for a good ten seconds, just leaning against the counter and rubbing at his eyes with his head down. "Yeah. That, and I figured I was fucking lucky he didn't just pack up and disappear, okay? He fucking hated metas, like y'all weren't fuckin' human—fuck, when we found out about Roxanne's telepathy I pretty much expected for him to drop off the face of the earth then, right? But he didn't just cut us off, Dirk 'n Rose 'n Roxy still talked to Dave, they were still there, I figured...I figured shit was okay." He raises his head, and wow does he look upset. With himself specifically. "And that was fucking stupid, obviously."
"Nah." It could have been handled better, but are you going to tell him that? Hell no. "So, we've worked out that I don't have a problem with you; how about the flip side of things?" When he just looks blank, you roll your eyes behind the mask. "I did kill your brother here."
"You saved my brother." D says it like any other take on the situation would be ridiculous.
"...okay then, everything's cleared up then." That...was easy. "Great talk, let's go check on that brother before either me or him gets nervous."