Location Location Location [Ferris]

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon crawled out from the foot-well underneath his desk, rubbing his knees once he was stood upright again. The cold, bare floor of the art studio was unkind on aching joints and it had taken him a rather embarrassingly long time to secure the small pet hammock to the underside of his desk where it was tucked away out of sight. No more having to snatch power naps in the staff lounge or slumped on the desk where he could be easily disturbed. Bliss.

Since his talk with Sean Devon had been feeling slightly more optimistic about things. Sure he was still concerned and spooked by the ordeal, and likely would be for a long time to come, but he wasn't in a blind panic about it any more. Instead he was taking it as a learning experience, something to use to push himself forward and prove that, despite all the evidence to the contrary so far, he really could do this. I mean, it couldn't get much worse, right?

After putting the screwdriver away in the lockable drawer on his desk Devon headed down to the staff lounge with the day's newspaper. He fancied people-watching for a while, and he still didn't know many of the staff population of the school so that was the place he often found himself gravitating to. Besides, until he was completely settled from what had occurred a few weeks ago he thought it prudent to observe as much as possible and become more familiar with just how the rest of the staff handled awkward situations.

Devon was disappointed to find the staff lounge empty. Still, he had a little time until he was supposed to be anywhere so he grabbed a brew from the drinks vending machine before settling down at one of the tables and flicking open the newspaper to the 'property for sale' pages and began scanning through the adverts. He sipped the tea and wrinkled his nose at the unfamiliar taste. The sooner Cade sent him some real teabags the better. He got busy circling potential ads... and then crossing them out again.

Too expensive. Too small. Too far away. Too new. Too broken...

[Ferris Macklin]

Midday nap switched up to come before he ate, Ferris cruised into the staff lounge later than usual and made a beeline for Devon. He seated himself with a yawn barely covered by an elbow and grinned at the man sleepily. Placing duckie on the table, he withdrew his usual bits and pieces lunch. Container of rice crackers and Frosted Cheerios, container of pickled snap peas, pita bread that had peanut butter and ham in it. Ferris began tucking snap peas into the pita and took a bite. "Sorry t' eat in front of you," he said. "Late lunch."

He pushed his crunchies container over the way he had when he'd met Tracy Jade, in offering. Then he lifted his chin to see what Devon was reading. "Real estate? What're you in the market for?"

In the row of townhouses he lived in there was a vacancy, but Ferris didn't know what the Brit was looking for. Or if he lived alone, for that matter. A townhouse could be too much space for a single guy, but Ferris had enough hobbies to fill it up.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Hearing someone approaching down the corridor Devon looked up from the paper, a grin crossing his lips as Ferris rounded the corner. He had very much enjoyed their first meeting, would have done even if the fish and chips had not been present, and had been looking forward to running into the chef again at some point. It was just a shame he hadn't yet thought of a suitable way to repay the kindness Ferris had shown to him. As Ferris sat down Devon slid the paper to the side, clearing a space for Ferris to put his rather unique bag down. “Hey! It's good to see you again. How you been keeping?”

Devon waved a hand vaguely at Ferris' apology, dismissing it. “Don't worry about it, I ate in front of you last time.” He smiled softly, putting the cap back on the marker he'd been using to highlight and then cross out adverts. “You look groggy. New recipes been keeping you up all night?” He gave a small shake of his head at the crunchies. “No thanks, I wont steal your lunch two meetings on the trot. I already ate.”

Indicating to the crossed out ads in the paper, Devon gave a shrug of his shoulders. “Honestly, not too sure. Something bigger than the crappy apartment I'm in now, but not one of those mini-mansions. Somewhere with people near but not on top of someone's else's place, y'know?”

[Ferris Macklin]

“Hey! It's good to see you again. How you been keeping?”

"Still shelf stable." He looked at Devon and laughed a little. "I heard you had a run in with the younger Rixon. Be glad it wasn't the older one. The pyro."

“You look groggy. New recipes been keeping you up all night?”

"Nah. Just waking up. Took my snooze a little early." The pita wasn't very big, and Ferris finished it in five big bites that were still mostly polite. He was hungry. From the duckie came a second sandwich, one that had sauteed veggies stuffed into a roll. The veggie mix, however, had come with thin Cantonese noodles. Ferris had just tossed the whole thing in, noodles and all. The Japanese had something similar, yakisoba bread. This was more vegetable than noodle, but Ferris could see how it could appeal.

“No thanks, I wont steal your lunch two meetings on the trot. I already ate.”

"'F I offer it's not stealing," he said amiably, but didn't push it. "Stealing my lunch would involve less obvious wardrobe choices."

He nodded when Devon said what he was looking for. "Do you know what a townhouse is? They're a little like row houses, but without so many stuck together at a time. I live in one and there's a vacancy next door. It's... oh, maybe 2500 square feet? Maybe more? Main floor, upstairs, basement. Soundproof but with built in neighbors. Close to the school. Attached garage. Not really any..." he took a moment to remember what it would be in British "...garden."

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon gave a small shrug of his shoulders as Ferris mentioned the Rixon kid. That encounter had been one of the 'highlights' of his first week teaching at the school, and it was an encounter he had no intention of ever repeating. As if the pain from trying to catch the kid wasn't enough, the near-heart attack of thinking he might have actually just dropped dead made for a horrific ordeal. Devon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly a little unsettled about it. “Yeah, that was kinda the theme of that whole week... All downhill from there...”

He gave a soft shake of his head, trying to dislodge that train of thought, and focussed back on his friend. Could he call him a friend yet, already? Devon certainly hoped so. “Ahh, the midday snooze. One of the greatest things ever imagined.” And his own going to be so much easier now he had a secret hammock in his classroom.

Devon took a long sip of the tea, placing the mug back down on the table and laughing softly as Ferris explained his concept of stealing. “If I wanted to actually steal something I could, easily. I can be very sneaky when the mood takes me. But really, I'm fine thanks.”

Listening to Ferris' explanation of a townhouse, Devon nodded and made a quick note on the margin of the paper. They sounded a little like terraced houses, but hopefully not as shite as the blocks of council-owned ones lining the cities back home. A basement would always come in handy as a space for his drum kit (when he finally got around to getting one), plus the extra rooms would give him far more freedom of space than he'd ever had before. “I don't really have much use for a garden anyway... How is it for lighting? Are there many windows?” The terraced houses back home always tended to be dark and dingy, particularly the ones in the middle of the row. Windows were always a bit of a big deal to Devon; painting by 60w bulb just didn't have the same effect.

[Ferris Macklin]

“Yeah, that was kinda the theme of that whole week... All downhill from there...”

"Aaaah, I'm sorry." Ferris didn't know the extent of it, but hoped whatever Devon had gone through wasn't too typical. As humble kitchen staff, Ferris mostly saw the kids when they were eating, and food typically took precedence over shenanigans. If there were ever any large-scale food fights he'd probably have to stay home for a few days to recover.

“Ahh, the midday snooze. One of the greatest things ever imagined.”

"Necessary, in my case." But he didn't elaborate, just smiled and ate his veggie-noodle-roll.

“I don't really have much use for a garden anyway... How is it for lighting? Are there many windows?”

Ferris had to shrug at that. "Mine is a middle unit, but I've never wanted for natural light. The whole row face the sunrise and the windows are all generous. The unit that's open is the end, so it has more windows, but I've never been in it." And then he couldn't help himself. "Don't the British melt in too much sun?"

Digging in his duckie, he brought out what would be dessert. "I always bring extra, so this isn't mooching. They're... uh... sort of a cross between blondies with milk chocolate chips and chocolate chip cookie bars."

The fat squares were rich with butter and nicely dense, and had large chunks of chocolate chopped off a giant block he'd brought back from Switzerland. Ferris was staunchly loyal to the Hershey corporation, being the chocolate of his childhood, but good lord, when Europe did chocolate well they blasted it out of the park.

Ferris had five in the ziploc he shoved at Devon.

[Devon Wentsworth]

When Ferris apologised for the kind of week Devon had been cursed with the Brit gave a soft nod of his head. “Yeah, thanks. It wasn't exactly a promising start.” But I'm bouncing back, damnit! Internally Devon was happy Ferris hadn't pushed to ask what was wrong; where could he even have begun to explain it? Trying to piece it together for Sean had been tough enough, and Sean had the benefit of being able to automatically fill in the gaps of Devon's verbal diarrhoea. Maybe one day he would try to piece it together for Ferris, but it would not be this day. It was still too close, too raw.

But he was nothing if not stubborn; this place wasn't going to break him that easily.

Devon returned the smile and gave a knowing nod of his head as Ferris spoke of his afternoon naps. He knew the chef likely worked ridiculous hours in the kitchens, he didn't blame the guy for needing to grab a couple of Z's when the got a chance. He laughed softly. “Listen to us, we sound like 70 year old grandma's.”

As Ferris asked about the Brit's aversion to sunlight Devon's smile brightened, his laughter cheering. “As a general rule yeah. I've spent too much time in summer in fields at festivals, I've got some resistance to the evil day-moon.” He gave a shrug of his shoulders. “Besides, it's all the better to see the mess I'm creating.”

When the ziploc bag of treats was shoved towards him Devon's eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas. Of course, if the food was so purposefully pointed at him it would be rude to refuse, right? And if Ferris' cooking was anything to go by his baking would be epic and Devon fished one of the squares out with a bright “Ooooh! Thank you!” Biting off a corner, he made a quiet muffled sound of pleasure and said a quiet “Oh Gods that's good!” behind his hand. Sometimes, just sometimes, he felt five years old all over again. Swallowing the bite, he turned back to the subject at hand. “If you don't mind emailing the info for the house to me I'll definitely sort out a viewing. It sounds just what I'm looking for.”

Besides, with a chef next door, how could he possibly refuse to at least look the place over?

[Ferris Macklin]

“Listen to us, we sound like 70 year old grandma's.”

Ferris snorted. "I can only hope that I'm as sharp as my grandma is when I'm her age."

Lynn Ellen Macklin not only swam at least a mile every morning, but she did competitive sudoku, volunteered at hospitals, and did the larger share of managing the financial portfolio belonging to herself and her husband. She was more on the ball than her grandson was now.

“As a general rule yeah. I've spent too much time in summer in fields at festivals, I've got some resistance to the evil day-moon. Besides, it's all the better to see the mess I'm creating.”

"How can you deny the mess when you can see it?" But he smiled. Ferris kept a very tidy house, but then, he didn't have much to clean.

He snorted again when Devon ate his bar and continued on his roll, tucking pea pickles into the veggies for variety.

“If you don't mind emailing the info for the house to me I'll definitely sort out a viewing. It sounds just what I'm looking for.”

"Sure. You don't get to pick your neighbors too often." He grinned. "It's been vacant for awhile, so you might get a deal."

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon grinned as Ferris spoke of his denial of the mess and shrugged his shoulders. “I don't deny it, I know I'm a messy git.” That was true in part; Devon's home, wherever it was, could never be described as clean or organised. Sure he never left dirty plates sitting around or anything like that, but in his flat back home there hadn't been a single surface that wasn't covered in paint smears, charcoal marks or dried glue. Added to the piles of books, CD's, drum equipment and general oddments scattered everywhere, it was hardly right out of Good Housekeeping magazine. However, it was an organised chaos. You couldn't sit down without having to empty a chair of random crap first, but the second you needed a two inch seven-pronged cog Devon would know exactly where down the back of the sofa one had fallen.

When Ferris mentioned getting to chose his neighbours Devon smiled brightly, gripping the cap of the pen between his teeth and pulling it off. At least Ferris thought well enough of him to risk having him as a neighbour; no one would suggest a house next to theirs if they couldn't stand the person enquiring. For as much as he was independent and danced very much to the beat of his own music, there was still a part of him that enjoyed knowing that other people liked him. Arrogant? Quite possibly, but to him it was a sign he was doing something right at least.

Turning to a clean page of the paper, Devon jotted his personal email address on the margin. He checked that one far more regularly than his work one. “Dat'd e--” Retrieving the pen cap from between his teeth, he tried again. “That'd be great; I'm not doing much over the next few days, should be able to set up a viewing quickly. Thanks for the pointer!” Devon tore off the slip of paper and handed it over to Ferris. He gave a cheeky grin. “Don't go posting that up in the bar toilets, y'hear? I'm not interested in meaningless flings with guys with more tattoos than braincells.”

[Ferris Macklin]

While Ferris was hardly anal about organization, having very little past basic furniture, books and comics, video games and consoles, and cooking equipment meant he could be a bit more precise about how he kept them. A lot of people would say Ferris's house was bare or empty or overly plain, but he liked it just fine. And he preferred the terms 'easy to clean' and 'minimalist'.

Grinning back, Ferris finished off his bun and dug for a paper towel in his duckie. He wiped his mouth and hands and then took one of the hybrid bars for himself. Mmm. Sugar.

“That'd be great; I'm not doing much over the next few days, should be able to set up a viewing quickly. Thanks for the pointer!”

"You're welcome," he said automatically, but smiled. "If you see the drapes open next door it means I'm home and awake. Stop in. I can't promise pastry but I'm sure I could figure something out."

“Don't go posting that up in the bar toilets, y'hear? I'm not interested in meaningless flings with guys with more tattoos than braincells.”

The mention of tattoos brought Mr. Jade to mind, and Ferris chuckled as he tucked the paper into his duckie. "I guess I'm lucky I only have three tats then," he said. "Though if I only have two braincells I bet they're big ones."

Thinking there might be a pastry-worthy occasion in the making, he leaned back in his chair with his bar and said, "So Devon. Tell me more about this food fixation of yours..."

[END]