Llewellyn Watts

This weekend had not been, by any stretch of the imagination, a good one. Well, there had been bright spots- Friday's lunch, for example. And taking the time to light candles in remembrance of his brothers yesterday afternoon. Hmmm, wonder what those two things had in common.

Yesterday evening, however, had seen him attempting to drown his sorrows in drink, an activity that had resulted in being escorted home by one Mr. Marc Spector.

He'd fallen asleep mostly clothed, only managing to get his shoes, jacket, and waistcoat off before apparently deciding the rest was too much trouble. When he woke, it was to find a glass of water and some Asprin on the bedside table, along with a note in Marc's handwriting to call Steven.

He'd taken the painkillers, downed the rest of the water, changed into the sweats he'd 'borrowed' from Steven, and was pressing the 'call' button on his mobile telephone to take care of that final directive...

[ooc: that steven came over is fine for broadcast, conversational details NFB plz.]

Nell had been kind enough to send Watts off yesterday with the ingredients he'd only need small quantities of for this pie-making endeavour, but a trip to the store to pick up a few things had still been necessary, so he'd taken care of that earlier in the afternoon.

Everything was set up, in lieu of an apron he had on his water-balloon t-shirt from the summer activities, and he had some music softly playing from his speaker as he waited for Steven to arrive.

Hopefully the evening would go nicely and would end in sharing a couple slices of fresh-baked pie. Though if today's venture didn't go well there was always the one he'd made yesterday available as a backup.

[ooc: for the beau!]

The wine tour and river cruise in the Douro region had taken up most of the day, and Watts at least considered it a successful expedition since he was both pleasantly buzzed and in possession of several bottles of good wine to take back home.

The lunch had been a little disappointing, since there wasn't much in the way of vegan options, but he was bound and determined to find an actual vegan restaurant for dinner to make up for it. Which was proving to be a little harder than it had been in Lisbon, but eventually he had indeed been successful and within a few minutes of looking over restaurant reviews he'd booked an Uber to get them to O Porto dos Gatos.

Someone was adjusting real well to 21st century life, yeah.

"Well, here we are," he announced, totally unnecessarily as he and Steven clambered out of the Uber.

[ooc: for the dinner companion!]

After getting checked in to the hotel and settled in the room with its view of the Tagus river, Watts and Steven were ready to start their adventure with a visit to the Oceanário de Lisboa. Following that, Watts had deliberately left the itinerary open. Perhaps they'd explore the city and head for dinner and a performance of fado music... orrrrr they might just head back to the hotel and order room service. Who knew!

[ooc: for the sweetheart!]

Last night had not gone entirely to plan. Or... at all to plan, really, things having gone off the rails mere minutes after Watts and Steven had arrived at the bar. Which is not to say the night as a whole went badly. In fact after that initial derailment the metaphorical train that had been their date night had found another, equally as pleasant, track to go down.

A track that had yes, shockingly, resulted in Watts staying the night at Steven's place.

"Mrrrrn," he murmured into Steven's shoulder. It was, in theory, meant to be a 'good morning'. Unfortunately Watts wasn't quite awake enough to make proper words happen. But chances were Steven wasn't either, so really, he was pretty much just mumbling to himself.

[ooc: for the other sleepyhead.]

Well, chalk up another successful date night. For a certain definition of success, in any case. There had definitely been dinner. And dessert. Watts and Steven might have even actually sat down on the couch to watch the film but that remained to be seen (heh) in SP.

Where they definitely failed was in taking things across the hall to Watts's apartment before they fell into bed together. But now it was morning and warm and happy and wrapped around the man he loved, Watts didn't even recall the fact that taking things over to his apartment had ever been part of the plan.

[ooc: for... two? dun dun dun.]

As far as birthday celebrations went, Watts- well, he didn't have anything to compare it against, actually, but all the same he thought it went rather well.

Yes there'd been a part of the evening where his fears had been laid out for all- or at least for Steven, as no one else had actually paid them any mind- to see. But the conversation had shifted, eventually, and then they'd come back to the island, fumbling their way through the hallway and stopping only for the occasional kiss that still tasted of crepes.

Fumbling all the way, as it happened, to Watts's apartment, through the door, and into the bedroom. Where there was (shockingly) more kissing. And then some things that weren't kissing. And then, eventually, drifting off to sleep together.

Which naturally led in to waking up together. Or it would. Eventually. Right now they were still both blissfully asleep, Watts once again doing his very best impression of an octopus curled around Steven.

[ooc: for he who is mentioned in the post.]

Last night had been pleasant, if excessively glittery. Following the dance, Watts and Steven had checked in to the hotel and-

... Promptly fallen asleep. What?

Now it was morning, though, and the first hints of consciousness were beginning to filter through Watts's mind.

"Mrrph," he rolled over, instinctively reaching for where Steven ought to be. Except there was nobody there. Still mostly asleep, Watts started to dismiss that as oh, well, clearly Steven woke up first and is over by the desk making terrible hotel coffee-

"Steven woke up first"? Yeah, no. Steven was even less of a morning person than Watts himself was. Something was definitely wrong. Starting with the fact that this wasn't a hotel room at all, but his old apartment. Now fully awake- and concerned- Watts got dressed and started to look around in an effort to figure out just what the hell had gone on here.

His first stop was his mobile phone on the nightstand, which looked... older? He squinted at it, and then sighed and grabbed his glasses (which unlike his actual current phone had survived the transition) and squinted at it again: 2022-07-30, read the date.

"Twenty years," he muttered. "Criminy." That would place them at- what, a few months after they'd both arrived in Fandom? Maybe a month after they'd started dating? The lack of decoration in his apartment more or less confirmed the timing. Though he still wanted to know where the hell Steven had ended up, if not with him.

First stop? Across the hall, to Steven and Marc's apartment. Muscle memory had him fishing out his keyring even though they'd not lived in Fandom for years, but of course the key wasn't on the ring: they wouldn't be exchanging those for some time yet. So, knocking it was.

[ooc: for thems that live there! that watts headed over to visit is fine for broadcast, details of conversation NFB please.]

As had become habit over the past few months, on Monday evening Watts found himself seated at his kitchen table surrounded by a stack of paper as he wrote to folks back in Toronto.

The most detailed letter went to the Detective and Dr. Ogden, as per usual, given that the former had experience here and thus Watts could be entirely honest about the things he'd seen and done. Less detailed were the missives sent to George Crabtree and Mrs. Hart. And finally, this week, there was a short note he owed Miss Louise Cherry, who'd written him recently expressing doubt that this address was even real. So he was writing back to assure her that no, no one had killed him in a fit of exasperation and he was in fact alive and well, just in Baltimore rather than Toronto.

It was slow going, of course, as he was making an effort to keep his writing as legible as possible. Even then, there had been more than a few sheets he'd had to discard entirely, and the wastepaper basket was starting to fill up.

[ooc: for the neighbour! that he came over is ok to mention, details NFB please.]

As much as Llewellyn told himself all he really needed was a bed, a jail cell as a long-term solution was... not practical. Or terribly comfortable, if he were being entirely honest. So once he actually had a paycheque or two in his bank account (more money at one time than he'd ever seen in his life before now), he'd set about seeking more permanent accommodations. The island did have two apartment buildings, after all, hopefully one of them had a vacancy.

As luck would have it, the first building he looked into in fact had several vacancies, and so he had his pick of apartments- all of which were much, much larger than the one-room affairs he was familiar with.

Perhaps best of all was the fact that the apartment itself had a bathroom of its own, and he wasn't expected to share with an entire floor.

Anyway, once he'd gotten that paperwork settled, he set about making arrangements to have the remainder of his belongings sent over from Toronto, which he was now in the process of hauling up to his new apartment.

[ooc: finally got this weirdo a reasonable place to live! post is so open.]