x

Noah tugged at the hem of his v-neck sweater, already heavier in his chuck taylors, more solid, more real. Dark eyes gleaming with the emotion of his progress, heart full of gratitude, he had swept from the straw-roofed cabin to retake the path and find that red-eyed stranger who had looked, really and truly looked at him. The one who hadn't gone all starry-eyed and greedy the way mortals did.

Not too far past the crossroads, Noah happened on what appeared to be a small fight, and, curious now, stepped off the path to observe, unseen, as what looked like a middling witchdoctor fell back under the furious grapple of, oh what was his name. He'd given his name, hadn't he?

Noah watched.

Conrad tightened his grip on Worth, containing the struggle. Worth's long arms reached over his head, hands clawing into mud, opening runic gashes against pebbles and sticks as he tore at the earth for purchase, back arching off the dirt.

Noah watched.

Worth moaned, tensed, boot heels digging shallow trenches. Worth fell still, and was dropped.

Conrad, gaze quite distant and motion removed, stood.

Worth, jittery and buzzing with anger, took the hand offered. Then Worth kissed Conrad, and words were exchanged, and Noah scuttled nearer to try and eavesdrop, eyes wide and breath caught.

There was a slap. Noah's eyes dimmed, flat with reproach. He watched.

He watched, and thought on the man now standing dazed, alone, against a tree. It was so rarely Noah could even meet persons living outside the realm of his charm, and, being rather old and rather single-minded in his goals, stepped onto the path to approach his intended - who did not yet seem to have regained his focus and did not answer when greeted. Noah reached to wipe the smear of blood from under Conrad's chin, but was evaded with a flinch.

"What do you want?" Conrad groused, scrubbing at his face and neck with the rumpled collar of his shirt.

Noah's optimism fell, heart sinking into cold, clear determination. "Thank you, for finding my lamp."

"Who's the cutie?" the middling witchdoctor gruffed from down the path (which had shortened considerably at the replacement of its anchor), bending to scoop up his rucksack as he eyed the pair.

Noah could read it in the reflection of the doctor's eyes; he was a busty redhead then, in that moment, for that mind, sultry but classy, wearing a pencil skirt and high-heels.

Sneering, Conrad answered, "This is Noah."

Noah, "And your names?" Large eyes darting under heavy brows, stepping an equal distance between the lovers (?), at one side appearing as a fiercely attractive woman and at the other, a plain youth who had died inglamorous.

"Noah, huh?" Worth eyeballs Noah head to toe, matching name to gender with a shrug. "I've heard weirder. Doctor Lucian Worth," he eagerly offers a hand, eyes gone kind and grin gone soft. "What's a pretty shiela like you doing in an ugly place like this?"

There was an exclamation of disgust, "Yes hello, be more obvious. I'm Conrad, by the way. Ignore the skeeve; he's suffering from bloodloss. Making a lot of bad decisions today because of it."

Worth's expression went lizard-cold. "I see yer recovered."

Conrad's eyebrows rose, and he detached from the tree with a wobble. His laugh was short and pained. "Not hardly. We're going to talk, when I am."

Worth winks at Noah's inquisitive glance. "I'm 'is doctor, not husband. In case that sounded so ominous." He crosses his arms, visibly pleased to be able to look, to hear a smoky female voice out of a graceful undecorated throat, as Noah navigates the conversation carefully through the smalltalk.

As for Conrad, watching Doc Worth flirt with some college kid was otherworldly; unreal. He didn't figure that would be the guy's type, for starters, nor that Worth was ever the sort to just up and compliment a stranger; and despite everything Conrad suspected Worth wasn't even gay; that he just liked to talk big to suit whatever aggravation he could muster for the moment; that Hanna had been (as ever) mistaken, and indeed maybe Worth didn't date anyone at all - but no, there it was. Happening right in front of Conrad. Ugh.

Worth bent at the waist and swept an arm out toward the path, grinning crookedly. "Miss Noah," he prompted, which piqued Conrad's temper because that was just more of the same mocking horseshit, wasn't it?

"Ass." Conrad snapped, drifting down the path after the two.

"Wot?" Worth's chin turned over his shoulder, honestly confused how good manners could so enrage anyone.

"Maybe I should explain," Noah interrupted, but -

"Don't you 'wot' me. Apologize to him."

Worth stopped in his tracks, hands in pockets, glancing around conspicuously. "Ta him who?"

"If I could -" Noah tried.

Conrad thrust an arm out, stomping up between the two. "Him, the guy you just misgendered. For reasons impossibly fucking unknown but more likely because masculinity is some sort of contest to you, Worth, come on."

Worth looked at his version of Noah, at her bustline and lipstick and the tiny pale hand that shot up in front if his face to keep him from arguing further, though all he did was pucker a cheek in the attempt to bite back his grin, eyebrows furrowed.

Noah, greedy to be seen in his own skin, appealed to Conrad's attention. "I am Djinn, I will appear quite different to each of you, by -" Noah swallows, nervous now, "by um. Your desire."

Worth snaps a match to life, relighting a cigarette that had gone out in the damp air. "Christina Hendricks," he chuckles. "Redheads. Eesh." He waves the match out, wincing.

Conrad has stilled, paled to gray.

Noah lowers his hands, shrugging, smile embarassed. "Not everyone sees what they expect," he lies, because lying is the shortest route to getting what he wanted, which was an immortal pair of eyes in front of which he could wear his own skin, feel his own limbs and remember life before the lamp and all its dizzy storms of other peoples' passions. "One guy saw a horse." Another shrug, forcing a laugh. "At least you're not seeing a horse."

Conrad jerks back as if he's been slapped, sneer open, silently accusing over his shoulder as he drifts down the path. "I'm - I've eaten something weird. Sorry. Nothing looks - ... Sorry," this to Worth, who for all he could be snickering has instead gone thoughtful and with a nod averts his eyes, mercifully, as Conrad passes.

"Awr, Puppy." Worth mumbles, watching Conrad put distance between them. To Noah, offering his elbow. "I know that guy. Trust me; it ain't you."

Noah shrugs, feeling disjointed and adrift and selfless without Conrad's tether of influence to keep some genuine part of himself in the forefront. He takes Worth's elbow, because that maybe was something a charmed Joan Holloway would do, and eagerly follows the impervious undead man (not to be confused with the dead man, who saw Noah as a blur, a nothing and an anything) to see what could be seen about keeping him.

The undead were notoriously fragile, hedonistic and vain - as far as Noah remembered, anyway - and their company was invaluable but not easily won. Noah squeezed Worth's arm a little tighter. "Is that your lover? That Conrad?" And what an old, biblical name, was Conrad - a name that warmed Noah's memories of hearthside tales and ancient heroes.

Worth pulled a bracing drag on his cigarette. "Nope. Why'd ya figure?"

"I saw your altercation."

Worth's mouth thins, because he's still angry that Connie can just so arbitrarily stomp all over his dignity like that, like it's fine to maul someone so long as that someone was the only one left a shaking mess of want and Conrad could just dust his hands and walk away. Like Conrad could just grab all up on folks and consider himself free of responsibility, even after, IMMEDIATELY fucking after being told what grabbing up on certain people in certain ways can do. It wasn't 'none of Conrad's business' whether or not Worth was affected by the attacks; not anymore. Not after the Boggart made it his business.

Worth clears his throat. "That's how we communicate. Altercations." He eyes Noah, who is five-nine in heels and a perfect fit to his own looming persons. "Was jus' trynta gross him out. Germaphobe, that one."