Title: What person doesn't have a Glitch or two to work out?

A/N: This was inspired by an IM conversation between UnderWearNinja (aka: Baldr) and myself (Angel) late on night. It started out talking about "Tin Man" (SciFi channel's latest mini-series) and sort of escalated into a RP scenario. Here's the cleaned up version. Enjoy!!

...oh, and, yeah, I (sadly, very sadly, oh so sadly) do not own Glitch. He, and the rest of Tin Man, belong to the proper collective self/selves of modern corporations of...someone...but I can safely (sadly) say that someone is (once again, sadly) not me.

The weather sucked.

Yeah, I know, dark and stormy is so clichéd, but what can you expect in a winter that's too warm for it to snow? Anyways, gray clouds and cold rain, that's what we were having. I wrinkled my nose as I turned the collar of my jacket up towards my ears and tried to ignore the icy cold droplets that managed to trickle down my back. Fumbling for my keys, I let myself into my apartment. Once inside, I dropped my backpack beside the door and kicked off my soaked shoes. Nothing says fun like dripping tennis shoes and wet socks.

"Hey…" I called out as I peeled off my jacket and hung it on the inside doorknob to dry. "Hey, you home?" Making my way to the kitchen, I figured something nice and warm would be good to drink. Maybe some hot chocolate to warm the bones…

Sitting on the linoleum in the middle of my kitchen was a strange man. His clothes were faded and tattered, his hair was a matted mess, and a shiny zipper ran along the middle of his scalp from forehead to crown. For some reason, he had pulled all the pots and pans from underneath the counters and had strewn them around himself across the floor.

Maybe brandy would help instead.

Noticing that he was not alone, the man glanced up and smiled charmingly. The silence stretched on continuously.

"Hello…" I finally said to break the silence.

"Oh, hello!" He echoed, bouncing up and brushing his hands on the tattered sides of his coat. Smiling brilliantly, he stuck his hand out, giving off the impression of an overly excited schoolboy. I just stared at him for a few moments, but his expression didn't waver. Something really odd was up with this guy—like a stranger with a funny hair-do, tattered clothes, and a zipper down the middle of his skull isn't odd in and by itself—or he was just really, really nice. Either way, I was about to shake his hand when suddenly I was sneak-attacked from behind.

"Boo!"

"Oy!!" I shouted, wheeling around. My arm struck the assailant's shoulder, drawing forth a protest.

"Ow…meanie!" He complained. I surveyed the "assailant", aka: my flatmate. Baldr, the Ninja. Ex-ninja. Name is from the Old Norse—go figure—and means Prince of Beauty, Joy, Purity and Peace. Who would have thought, considering he walks around in a scruffy pair of jeans and an oversized hoodie that says, "One by one, the Penguins steal my sanity"? He rubbed his hooded sweatshirt at the shoulder, mock-wincing and frowned. "Meanie."

"Well, it serves you right. So…" I turned back to see the stranger still standing with his hand outreached, but his eager expression had dimmed greatly and now just looked plain baffled. Skirting around him as politely as I could, I crossed the kitchen to get at the refrigerator and fished out a soda. "Who's your friend?"

"Hello! I'm…uhm…" The stranger repeated, faltering halfway through the sentence and looked utterly befuddled.

"Glitch." Baldr injected, helping the poor guy out. I raised my eyebrow at the name, but withheld comment.

"Glitch! Yes? Yes! Yes, I am…um…Glitch." The stranger—erm, Glitch—echoed, seemingly unconvinced at first. That made two of us. I smiled anyways and reached out to him, finally shaking his hand.

"Well, its nice to meet you Glitch. So, where are you…uh…from?" I asked. As I let go of his hand, I noticed that that intriguing zipper that ran from front to back on his head was actually unzipped. I finished my sentence as casually as I could, but it was a slightly unsettling sight up close. It wasn't that it was disturbing really…it's just, after a long day at work, seeing someone's brainpan up close and in the open isn't really high on my list of "to do". Behind Glitch, I could see Baldr's reflection in the microwave's covering. He was doing a rather funny miming of zipping up his own head, clearly trying to convey the message to our new guest to zip his zipper.

"Where am I from? Why, I'm from...uh...well, I'm from...hmmmmmm..." The poor guy was too busy trying to remember where he was from to apparently notice the frantic hand motions going on display for his benefit. Instead, Glitch looked over my shoulder with an expression of utter dependency. "...Where am I from? I'm from somewhere, right?"

"The O.Z." Baldr replied, deadpan, and as I turned, he quickly crossed his hands in front of his chest, playing innocent.

"The 'O.Z.'?" I repeat, skepticism heavy in each word. This was starting to sound really strange. And I'm not talking about normal-strange. I mean, hyped-up on five different kinds of energy drinks and painting polka-dots on your car strange.

"Yes! The O.Z.!" Glitch echoed, rejoicing, excitement in his voice at the apparent return of his train of thought. "The Outer Zone."

"The Outer Zone." I repeat again. Skip the skepticism; I've entered the town of disbelief. "Right…ok…well then, have fun guys…" I shrugged, turning and leaving. Things were strange enough around here without people from different "zones" or "limits" showing up.

"Oh, ok…we will!" I heard Glitch reply as I turned the corner, heading out of sight. Apparently he either didn't get sarcasm, or he was being polite. Either way, my clothes were still wet, and I was willing to bet that once I changed into something more comfortable and dry, things would start looking a little less "odd".

Wouldn't that have been nice?