burn a hole in the old grip of the familiar.

[reproached]

WHO: John Murphy & whoever
WHERE: Clarke Griffin's apartment
WHEN: After his release from the safehouse
WHAT: Murphy adapts to his new environment.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: He is awful.

arrival ( for bellamy )

[ Four days could not pass fast enough, despite Murphy's most valiant attempts to smear them into a liquored blur, but today is finally the day he's allowed to stumble back into the city.

He hadn't intended to take Clarke up on her offer to provide him a temporary roof over his head. The safest place to be is usually wherever Clarke isn't. The uneventfulness of his imprisonment in the hatch, though, has eased Murphy's paranoia somewhat. (After all, wouldn't that have been the perfect place to drain his bone marrow or install a new mind in his head?) And Bellamy, in spite of the abuse Murphy had thrown at him, remained by his side almost the entire time. That had to count for something.

So, rather than making a break for it as soon as they're outside, Murphy lets him lead the way. Just as it had been throughout their time down below, Murphy hardly says a word of consequence. If he's ever going to talk about anything, it won't be out in the open like this. ]

hanging out ( open )

[ Clarke was right about one thing: Murphy loves comfort. And this world is all kinds of comfortable he hasn't experienced before, in nameless little ways. Flooring is smoother, fabric is softer, everything is absurdly glossy and the indoor temperature manages to never be too warm or too cool.

Murphy spends a lot of time touching things, picking them up and examining them, putting them back down. He tastes every unfamiliar food he can find in the apartment. He takes long, environmentally-unfriendly hot showers, singing at the top of his lungs the whole time. And he naps everywhere a person could conceivably nap, from the kitchen table to the middle of the floor. It's as if Clarke picked up a very large stray cat and took him home. ]

Comments

[strove]

[There are a number of reasons for why Clarke isn't there to walk Murphy and Bellamy back to their place, but most of them can be rounded out to a single factor: she's at work. While Stephen continues to recover from his ordeal in the simulation, she finds it difficult to part ways from the bar. The looming threat of Whatever Happened with Damian is still a factor, too.

She returns late in the evening. Not late enough that Red Wings is closed, but closer to midnight than even she'd like. She has several totes of leftover food that she shoves into the fridge. Things that people didn't want. Orders that never got picked up.

Clarke spots Murphy out of the corner of her eye at the same time. Her eyebrows raise as she looks at him.]

How are you feeling now?

[There is, quite notably, no frustration or impatience to what she asks. Bellamy made it clear: Murphy was afraid. He had good reason to be. She had been on her first day here, and the only reason she didn't run is because a man named Stephen Strange guilted her into returning. He couldn't use his hands to be the medic the Displaced (at the time, not yet named that) would need.

And now it's present day.

Before she had headed out for work that day, she had taken care to arrange her room for Bellamy and Murphy to take over. While there's still a clothing line and pins on the wall, all the sketches that were originally in those slots were taken down and returned to her sketchbook. She has a small collection of clothes now piled in a corner in the living room next to the couch, along with her pillows and blanket.]

[reproached]

[ All these preparations made for his arrival haven't escaped Murphy. Though he can understand why she would want to keep him close, there's no reason to make him comfortable. She could have just as easily told him to sleep on the floor, and he'd do it, because where else would he go? But she chose to give him a bed - her bed - and to give him space. The more he thinks about it, the more awful he feels. He doesn't deserve her generosity, here or back in Sanctum.

He'd been staring out the window when she arrived, but now he stalks over to the fridge like he's curious to see what food she's brought back today. ]

They really just throw all this away, huh.

[ He plucks up a container and opens it to examine its contents - certainly not to avoid eye contact with Clarke. ]

[strove]

I think they would at most places. [In coming to understand the restaurant and bar industry, one of the biggest factors was in figuring out both food costs and waste. While the majority of it gets turned into compost, that's not really a good outcome for many of the bars and restaurants in the city. Compost is now exceedingly unnecessary in New Amsterdam, so food waste has to go somewhere else.

At Red Wings, the Displaced are always naturally just trying to get by. Plus, having grown up in a world dependent on rations makes her even less likely to toss something. She's not a fan.]

This world is surprisingly wasteful, for all that they've had to give up large chunks of it.

[reproached]

[ Murphy's lips quirk into a wry little smile that he directs only briefly to Clarke. ]

I guess this means I'll never have a chance to cook for you.

[ Not especially hungry just yet, he replaces the container in the refrigerator and slouches back up against the counter, finally facing Clarke for real. He's supposed to still be angry with her, or at least play at it, but he can't summon the will. ]

[strove]

[The fact that Murphy isn't sniping at her is a sign. It helps that she spoke to Bellamy after things had gone poorly. Knowing that it was fear. Having that communicated clearly to her. Clarke often tries to pretend that she knows what's going through the mind of the people important to her, but ... obviously, she often fails at that.

Clarke has a big heart and cares a lot. On the flipside, Clarke's heart doesn't always extend to succeeding at empathy. It's a different skill set.]

Actually, I have a proposal for you. [It is a matter of keeping him close, but not for any underhanded reasons. (But then: that's where the struggle with that empathy comes in. It's the way that a good intention can come with some cunning, sometimes dressing it up another way.)] Business is booming and we need a cook. Ergo ... [She motions toward the fridge, right before taking a spot on the counter opposite him.] You may have a chance after all.

[reproached]

[ Murphy scoffs and wags his index finger. ]

You set that trap and I walked right into it.

[ Though, if anything, he sounds kind of flattered to be asked. It's a rare day when anyone recognizes Murphy's talents outside of causing trouble. ]

Why not. If I'm stuck here forever, I might as well enjoy it, right?

[ That seems to be the mindset she's hoping to get him into, anyway. ]

[jettisons]

[Bellamy is relieved when the door unlocks for his implant and he realizes that everyone else is out. Better to ease Murphy in when he's already so distrustful. Maybe being out of the safehouse will help him relax a little.

He steps through the door, waiting for Murphy to follow.]

Home sweet home.

[It only sounds a little sarcastic.]

There's not much room, so Clarke's taking the couch and we're taking her bed.

[reproached]

[ Murphy whistles appreciatively as they step inside. Bellamy's right, the place is a pretty tight space for the three of them (specifically), but it looks so damn new. The last time he saw anything like it was on Becca's island. ]

You've been staying here this whole time?

[jettisons]

Four days in the safehouse, then here.

[It is nice in a way that still pulls Bellamy up short sometimes. It's a far cry from his family's cramped, rundown quarters on the Ark, and far better than anything they've ever had on the ground.]

If you need anything, we can get it for you.

[reproached]

[ Murphy runs his hand along every surface he passes as he walks a half-circle around the room, simply taking it all in. ]

Let's start with a gun.

[jettisons]

[Bellamy's lips quirk up at that.]

I should've known you'd pick the one thing I can't get you easily. Weapons are illegal in the city. It's all black market stuff.

[Which isn't a "no", but it's not like they can run down to the corner store.]

[reproached]

Oh, if it's illegal, maybe we'd better not.

[ That's sarcasm. ]

Just point me in the right direction and I'll take care of it.

here we go again

[strove]

So, what was your goal there, Murphy? [That's how she starts the conversation between the two of them. Clarke's tempted to send him a message, but—no. She's not going to let Murphy worm his way out of a conversation. If he's going to be staying in her apartment, that gives her access to him.

That gives her the right to interrogate him, especially after he tries to catastrophically damage her relationship with Bellamy. She can still feel his pain reflected back onto her: the grief, the understanding that he lost someone close to him (Monty) and would have to one day see a sister he barely recognized (no need to clarify who that is). And it fell on her.

Clarke debates adding more to her question, but chooses not to for now. Instead, she crosses her arms and positions herself so that she can block any path he tries to take out of the apartment. Needless to say, she's not in the mood.]

[reproached]

[ Well, he's been expecting something like this ever since Bellamy flew off to confront Clarke. If he'd thought fleeing was the thing to do, he wouldn't be here now. Instead, Murphy remains slumped in his chair with liquor in hand, contemplating his glass rather than looking at her. ]

You don't think he deserved to know?

[strove]

If it was about what he deserved to know, you wouldn't have left practically everything out. [Clarke doesn't specify that it's about Octavia. There's more there: what Monty gave up and what Bellamy himself had to do in order to try to keep Octavia in check. It's a lot, and it all comes together.]

Are you that worried about Bellamy trusting me?

[reproached]

[ Murphy sighs and rolls his gaze over to her now. ]

You seriously need to ask? Yeah, I thought he could use a little more information before deciding he owed you his life, considering how easy it was for you to throw it away. Now he can figure it out for himself.

[strove]

[As much as she wants to call it unfair, she can see that. She can absolutely see that. Her eyebrows furrow with understanding, her lips tucking inward as she considers what to say. It takes a moment.

But then the words arrive:] I owe him my life, Murphy. There's a lot you don't know yet about Sanctum, but that murder you congratulated me for? It was a lot less ... [What's the right word for the death of a person who had lived eight lives?] ... bloody than what we're used to, and Bellamy's the one who made sure I got out alive. I don't want to hurt him ever again.

[She means it. There was something to having Bellamy there, desperate to save her after everything. Clarke owes it all to him. He didn't give up. He got the message and he fought for her, even at the risk of so many things.]

I don't expect you to take me at my word, [she adds.] But you'll see.

[reproached]

[ He knows. He knows. He hates that he can't tell her that he knows. ]

Yeah, I'll see. I would love for you to prove that to me, Clarke. The last thing he needs is to get dragged into your bullshit again.

Hanging Out

[filloryfanatic]

[After the simulation was over and Quentin woke up alone, he basically fell apart, and Clarke more or less dragged him off the streets to stay with her and the others. Now with Eliot back, he's trying to come up with an exact plan for them, that doesn't constantly require them to sleep at other people's apartments. Even a studio would be better than that. Still, he has a few belongings at her place, including an important item.

He isn't sure who he expects to see when he walks in, but he doesn't recognize Murphy. He has to be a friend of one of the others to be there, so Quentin closes the door, about to greet him with a little more warmth than he's been capable of lately. The misery and sorrow still hangs over him, but it's lighter with his touchstone nearby.]

Hey-- wait don't touch that.

[The important object in question is an old crucifix he took out of the ruins, and if Murphy actually puts a finger on it, it will immediately start to glow and resonate like it does for all Displaced.]

[reproached]

[ Oh, woops. Yeah, he touched the thing. But as soon as it starts glowing, Murphy jerks his hand away from it and practically jumps backwards. ]

Shit.

[filloryfanatic]

Yeah, sorry, it does that.

[Quentin hurries over to pick up the crucifix, the steady glow of it remaining in his hand. He moves over to put it into his small bag which he forgot to store it in earlier. Sometimes he just takes it out and tries to think through the ways it can be used. Or if it's the answer to something.]

We got these in the ruins. They didn't glow until a few weeks later and only for people like us.

[reproached]

That's not creepy at all.

[ It is super creepy. But it doesn't seem to have had any effect, so Murphy relaxes a little. He'll be keeping his hands to himself for a while. ]

[filloryfanatic]

It's super creepy.

[Quentin echoes Murphy's thoughts if not his words. He likes creepy things though, that's the problem. Anything supernatural just makes him feel like he's on the hunt for answers. It's better than the numb grief he's been living with instead. He's curious about the mysteries again.]

But I'm used to creepy things that may or may not be magic, so.

[He shrugs.]

Hi, I'm Quentin. You're Murphy, right? Clarke and Bellamy's friend?

[kleptocratic]

[ Behold, another stray Clarke has dragged in. The people from her world are remarkably unfussy, and while Eugenides knows there are reasons for this, it's still another to see it laid out plain, in the chambers before him. Gen wearing a black robe with some sheen in it— not indecent, but not fully dressed, either. He lives here. He lived here when it was just himself and Clarke. ]

That's mine.

[ He says, when he sees Murphy lifting one of the objects in the common area. A book. Rare here, if he hasn't discovered that. ]

I stole it.

[reproached]

[ Rare everywhere. Murphy could barely read into his late teens, and reading a book feels to him a bit like using a typewriter feels to most people. To his credit, he handles it very gingerly, with a proper amount of respect for something as fragile as paper.

At being called out, though, he flinches in surprise and hastily sets the book back where he found it. He isn't trying to steal it. ]

From where?