Interaction [Dreamnotfound]

17 | Recognize

George waited, hesitant, as the man who stood before him stared him down. It took a moment, but recognition flashed across his eyes. "George?"

George grinned, and in an instant, Clay grabbed him in a hug. George froze, surprised by the action, and remained still as Clay stepped back. "Come in, hurry up," Clay urged, a smile still strong on his face. "There was a patrol this morning, so it's too dangerous for us to be outside."
George, still shocked from what had just happened, nodded and stepped through the door. He couldn't resist turning to look at Clay, staring at him. He looked nothing like he had sounded when they worked together. His hair was a dirty blond, slightly wavy, constantly falling over his eyes. Were they green? They must have been; nobody could have yellow eyes - it was one of the rules designed at birth.

Clay's gaze flitted up to George's, and he felt heat rush to his cheeks. Breaking the glance, he stared at his shoes, then realized he was wearing shoes in the house, he should probably take them off, he didn't want to get the house dirty -

Clay hit him lightly on the arm. "Take off your shoes and come in," he advised lightly, before striding into another room off to the left. His house was pretty, George observed. It had a nice modern theme to it, grey and white were prominent throughout, and it seemed... simple. Nothing like he had thought Clay to be.

Shaking off the thought, George followed Clay into the room he presumed to be the kitchen. "Have you ate?" Clay asked. George frowned. Had he? Not that he could remember, but then again, ever since he had left his own flat back in London, everything was just kind of a blur. George slowly shook his head.

A flash of concern darted across Clay's face. "Here, I'll make something," he offered. George smiled slightly. "How do noodles sound? They were yesterday's designated dinner, but I didn't follow along yesterday. Wasn't feeling much like it anyways."
George didn't ask why, but nodded. "That sounds great."
He sat on a nearby chair, contemplating his thoughts at the moment. Clay had taken this all in stride, like it was just another day, just another random guy he had worked with a few times showing up at his house and demanding care. George almost felt selfish.

On the other hand, it wasn't like he had asked for this to happen. He really couldn't have helped it - it was a miracle he had escaped.

Clay turned from the counter, a steaming bowl in hand. "Here-"
As he passed it to George, George's left sleeve lifted slightly, exposing his band, locked into his wrist. Clay frowned. "They aren't tracking you, are they George?"
George took the bowl. "Thanks, and no, I don't think so," he replied. "I overwrote some of the code for my band, so its not tracking me. They did shut off my Glider, though, so they may know I'm in Florida-"
Clay sat down. "You mentioned something about a Glider, but I- I'm confused. Start from the beginning."

George sighed and began to recount his story.

Somewhere around the middle, Clay stopped him. "Wait, you just told the Glider to go to Florida, and it landed at my house?"

George grinned, taking a bite of his noodles. "No, Orlando, Florida. It landed in a giant field, probably in the center of Florida, and it wasn't the most graceful landing - I was only about a foot above the ground, but they shut the Glider off and I fell."
Clay frowned. "Are you okay?"
George shrugged. "It wasn't a bad fall, so yeah, I'm pretty much fine. Anyways, I was walking through the stupid field for like a full hour or something - but I reached a forest, and on the other side there was a street, and I remembered your address, and I walked until I found what I thought was your house, and I guess it was, because here we are-"
Clay laughed, a high pitched wheeze that made George stare in astonishment before looking away, trying not to laugh himself. Clay grinned. "That's... that's crazy!"
George smiled. "Yeah-"
He coughed, his voice raspy. Probably from screaming so much, then recounting his entire story.

Clay's face faded to concern. "Want some tea? I have some-"
George shook his head. "No, that's fine. I don't really like tea."
"Neither do I," Clay confessed, and the smile appeared back on George's face. Clay held his glance for a moment, and then turned back to the table. You arrived pretty early, I think. It's only 12 pm, so-"

George nearly choked on his noodles. "Why are you up so early?"
Clay stared, confused. "Early? I get up at 8 am, what do you mean?"

George's eyes widened. "8 am?"

Clay nodded, and then realized what was happening. "Ohhhhhhh," he exclaimed.

George's eyebrows creased in confusion. "Wha-"
"Timezones," Clay replied, a grin appearing on his face. "We're like 5 hours apart when you're in London - that is where you live, right?"
Realization appeared on George's face. "Yeah. Makes sense now."
Clay was still grinning. "Welcome to EST time, George," he laughed.

George groaned. "I was so confused!"

The two laughed about it for some time, George slightly embarrassed, when a small purr and a jingle was heard. George stopped, turning in his seat to face the floor.

A light brown, slightly striped cat with bright eyes appeared, a small green tag on their collar. George couldn't tell the colour, but the cat seemed slightly intimidating. He leaned back in his seat as the cat hissed slightly, fur bristling.

Clay turned. "Patches, c'mere," he coaxed, motioning to the cat. "This is my cat, Patches. She can be a bit aggressive. Patches, meet George. George, meet Patches." He looked up worriedly. "You're not allergic or anything, are you?"

George shook his head. "Actually, I had been thinking of getting a cat before I had to leave. She's so cute!"

Clay grinned. "Yeah, she's pretty great. Watch out, though, she can be a bit angry with strangers she doesn't know."
George flinched at the word "strangers", but kept on looking at Patches. Patches stared, then crouched, then stood and stalked away.

George raised his eyebrows. "Iiiiincheresssssting."
Clay started wheezing. "Inch resting? What do you mean, inch resting?"
George grinned, confused. "I mean interesting! Incheresting, interesting!"
Clay was full on dying at this point. "iNcHeReStInG," he mocked. "I've never heard anyone say that before-"
"It's a common thing!" George insisted, but he too was laughing at this point. Clay's high pitched wheezes filled the kitchen. "Shut up!"

Clay finally finished laughing, a bright smile on his face. "You're hilarious, George."George couldn't keep the smile from his face, but he laughed it off. "You too, Clay."The two boys continued talking for a while.