Chapter Text
It’s been two months in this village, Houndy runnin’ around helping their neighbors like it is second nature. It was ever since I sent that letter to ‘em, that they asked for help ‘n aiding their people. When I sent that letter, I never thought of the beauty I’d see themselves sprout.
Three knocks slowly and steadily came from the door of my apartment that night. Typically, legends a’couple nights before the game, stay at their docking rooms and or apartments, not me though. I like me bed, I like my stuff that isn’t a window look away from an adrenaline druggie or a gun manic.
I walk up from my thrifted couch to answer, shamefully a bit drunk. Once I twisted the knob to open it, it was Houndy I first saw. They had their goggles on, their respirator, and a hat. The rest of the outfit consisted of typical clothing no one would bat an eye to, but for me? This was a site to behold to me eye. Houndy always wore clothes that were something out of the coldest planets arse, always layered. I’ve never seen ‘em in a hoodie, some shorts, and honestly never even seen them take off their shoes to change into slippers. Houndy’s red hair—which again, never seen—peaked out like little cuts from the black hat they wore. If I was actually drunk I would of asked if they knew me.
“Walter, I’ve received your note–uh letter!” They stumble over their words like I wrote down blackmail I had on ‘em. They clutched my letter in their hands by their legs, holding it loyally. Their respirator hid their face, but I knew they were flushed. I could feel heat in-front of me, embarrassment or anxiety, I’ll never know.
“I see mate. Got a response or do you want me to translate me bad handwritin?” I jest a little, when’s not the right time for a little laugh?
“I…I’m..” They stutter. They pull up their hand and move it close like they're going to itch their jaw. “Care if I drink, Walter? If you don’t mind I come in of course.” Their hand moved, trembling down to their side.
I pushed the door wide in opposition to the crack of my face I gave them, and welcomed them in. Is it a shocker I ain’t that clean? The apartment was a bit dusty, but the kitchen island was clean. Houndy sat down on a seat on the island table, and I went to the fridge to fix them a drink. Months of drinkin’ in Witt’s bar gave me the knowledge of what Houndy drank, if they did. Whiskey, sipping slowly. Do I drink whiskey? Nah, beers are easier to chug. I keep it around for Houndy, as a memory of them or if they are actually here in me room.
“Here ya go mate, wanna tell me what’s up?” I slide a whiskey with ice to them, while taking up a seat next to them. I hear a soft sigh come from them as they remove the respirator, showing their skin. This was something I was used to, Houndy's chin. Sounds odd to say, but you just gotta know how they are. Again, I get drunk with them more than they’d admit. Hounds face is surrounded by scars from the coolant they fought, and their traditional red face-paint was smudged. Their mouth had a bigger scar on their top lip, but I can’t recall the story as of right. Tonight, they didn’ drink slowly, in fact they down the whole glass ‘n two big ol’ swigs while I watched.
“I don’t know what to do. My planet is dying, people are dying, people I have known always die because of something I’ve done.” Hound sighs out, in a loud drawn out sentence. By the end I could smell the whiskey in their breath, which made me oddly happy. No matter what was happenin’ they were breathing and in my direction, what’s more to ask?
I take my hand to their shoulder, making their eyes from under their mask noticeably move to mine. Their scarred lip recoiled back a bit, hand on their drink tensing. If they tell me to move I will. “The actions of Hammond and their big…claw-thingy, doesn’t make ya responsible. You using what you had to provide for ya people doesn’t make you accountable for anyone’s lives. Either it be that uncle of yours, or…Boone.” At this point I need a drink after sayin’ that lads name. Countless times at the bar Hound would end up talking about him. Boone. Everything Houndy does is for that guy, and all he’s ever done is make Hound exhausted. Houndy swears Boone was a lovely mate, someone to cherish—but the more they tear up over the pain of what happened between them—the more respect I lose in that guy. I would never tell them that, just more drunken thoughts, he shouldn’t be a worry to either of us.
“I just wanted no one to be hurt, Fitzroy. And I can't even do that anymore.” Bloodhound sinks down into the chair, resting their chin on their forearm at the island top. The sleeve of their sweater they wore, was pulled up, revealing a tattoo on them. They fumbled with their drink, I took this as my sign to refill it. Drink, after drink, after drink. The bottle I bought for them wasn’t too large, but by the time they were sitting in their chair half-way crying, the bottle was empty. Nothin’ I said seemed to make their cryin’ cease, which I understood. It was a lot to take in, and a lot’ to manage. I got the impression after the third drink that I was the first person Houndy’s vented to in a very long time.
After that, an idea sparked in me ol’ head. I can help them, help around the village and help the people. I do nothin’ but drink and party after the games. I haven' seen my home planet for awhile. Might as well do some good and help Houndy.
“Houndy, I have ‘n idea.” I smile at them and they turn their head to look. Their goggles were steamed, and lovingly I laughed while rubbing the condensation off. Either they were crying more, or really embarrassed, because their goggles steamed a bit more from it.
“How ‘bout I help you with your planet, or village I mean. I do some tasks, help some gals, calm you down with a smile?” I bring my hand back to my own drink–of which I grabbed while they were upset–which I was about halfway done with. I was definitely tipsy, but years of possible underage drinking made me immune to the stupidity of it all.
“Really—I can’t ask that, Walter.” Houndy’s eyes from under their goggles jittered around, before settling looking at the floor. Probably not the best place to look, I haven’t swept in awhile. “I cannot let you do that. You do so much when I’m not around, you have many responsibilities—“ Houndy rested their head on the table to stop them from speaking, and I put my hand to their head.
“Mate, let me do this for ya. Least I could do for a mate—“ I winked, or blinked? “—like you. You need a bit of Fitzroy magic.” I finish my proposal with a cheeky smile, and a rub on their hat. I know I said I’m immune to being tipsy, but the alcohol made me hands not think, as I unknowingly twisted and twirled a long string of their red hair. After long moments of silence, and ‘n awkward twitch in their lips, did I realize I was overstepping myself. “Sorry mate.” Hands together glued onto the drink, that haunted my sleep for the next week and a half. The string of hair dangled as Hound placed it back behind their ear, ever so softly.
“Nei, Walter you’re fine. I just… I just want—to accept what you said. I need your—- Fitzroy magic as you put it.” Bloodhound sat up with their hand on their jaw, giving the most sarcasm they could. This moment is oddly beautiful to my eye. It’s just them, sitting, calming down from a rough week, month, life. Probably drunk and a bit reckless, but so authentically lovely to me.
“Haha! I knew you had it in ya!” Instead of just going and poking ‘em, I just went for a simple fist bump. The bump I received back was gloved and soft. A nonverbal thank you from them. The night went on as expected, we laugh, gossip, and joked about whatever. On days Houndy gets a little too drunk, I love talking about how they feel about the others, so I can keep an eye out for what I should pick up on. Elliott is bothering them with relationship questions? I shut it down casually. Nox won’t stop creating noise late at night? I knock and ask about it. I never really knew why I did this, side quests seem fun I guess. It also makes Hound a bit more calm knowing that it’s taken care of, and they don’t have to show themselves more than they have to in the games.
During these times of talking about current gossip, we migrated to the couch, somewhat glancing at what’s on tv. If it was late night when Houndy knocked at my door, it was damn near morning now. I wanted to offer walking them back to the drop ship dorms, but by that time they were already asleep on my couch. They had forgotten about their respirator, and slid their goggles down to their chest while I wasn’t lookin’ fully. It took everything not to gawk at them while they were still awake. Their eyes were green as the grasses of Kings Canyon. Although they were puffy—along with their nose—from cryin’, they were a sight to see. They looked human, not saying they don’t have a soul! Typically they are just so stoic, but right then mate? They laid so effortlessly peacefully, trusting me with this honor. Gods do I collect because I stare at them for a good five minutes while they breathed slowly. I stood while still glancing at them, grabbed a blanket from me bed and threw it over them, which resulted in a twitch in their eyelid. Probably should be more careful. I grabbed the remote and turned on something peaceful and turned it low. I carefully jump over some bottles of beer from possibly a couple weeks ago, and pass the kitchen. I locked the door, and made sure Houndy’s things were in place at the kitchen island.
I figured they were going to run off in the morning before I could awaken, so I might as well make it easier. Lastly, I take my happy self to the bathroom, brush the teeth I luckily still got, and find myself in my bed.
Now I’m here. It’s been two months of living at this village with them, if I haven’t told ya already. I live in me own little tent, but typically I crash at Houndy’s home they have. Their home is so chill, and their spare bed is a waterbed. Neva’ knew they made these things until I laid on one and passed for nineteen hours. I love it here, the planets hurtin’ though. It’s unstable to say the least, and the people are beginning to tell Houndy to pack a truck and go. Everyday Hound comes by me, saying we should help them all leave, and I reassure them it’s okay. I reckon we got a month before the place is dust. Later today I’ll talk to Houndy about movin’—with the new pup in the Apex Games, and the wonderful time I’m having with them—I know they’ll agree and start as soon as possible. Meaning….today. Shit I guess we are startin’ movin’ today aren’t we? Ahh I don’t care! I’m currently writing this on a paper in Houndy’s office, while right outside the window, I think I see them coming home with lunch. Seems like now’s the time, so I’ll write about Houndy in awe later. Still got a lot of good moments to gawk over. Cya.