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sardonic-the-writer · 2 years

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NOTHINGS EVER NORMAL HERE

—word count: 6k+

—playlist: link

—tag list: n/a

—notes: welcome to the ahs: murder house experience. so get your truama under control and strap in. there's not enough trigger warnings in the world for this show. read at your own risk

If they all knew the different fates awaiting them in the self dubbed murder house, maybe they wouldn't have moved in.

A rustic house stood tall in the face of the gloomy streat, it's old foundations staring down at four very tiny looking people in comparison, movers scuttling around them boxes in hand.

Four very tiny people with very tiny time left to live.

Occasionally a worker would bump into one of them from behind, prompting a grunt from the receiving party or a step to the side, an exasperated expression being tossed out more often than not. But other than that no words were spoken. Not out loud.

A girl not much younger than what could have been 16 stood next to another slightly taller figure just a little older in age. Her eyelids were cast in a downward motion underneath a curtain of light blonde hair, giving the impression that she was half asleep when in fact it was more of an unimpressed look.

Another beat of uncomfortable silence.

"A cool looking house where people died and somehow you two still manage to ruin in." Violet finally spoke, eyeing a couch dotted with cheap modern designs as it passed her on a trolly. Most likely being the thing that prompted the sudden commentary.

A momentary giggle made its out of her mouth as she proceeded watched the person next to her get elbowed in the ribs for laughing at her comment, the victim being (Y/n), who shot a venomous look towards their parents at the action.

"Vi's not wrong you know." They stuffed one of their hands in their pants pocket, the other going out to wrap around their younger sisters shoulders with a shrug. "Dad cheats on you mom, and you move us all out here as if that'll fix the fact he fucked someone who was probably being babysat by the time you were graduating highschool. In your own bed nonetheless. Kind of a lame way to ruin this sweet house you know."

Any outsider in the family would recognize the look of hurt and grossly underestimated anger radiating from the people they spoke to—that being a lady with soft red hair and a tall man with a handsomely chiseled face. With the way that they stood stiffly next to each other it wouldn't take a genius to see that once they may have been close, lovers even, before a rift.

"Call me a brat or rude or whatever you want." They said with yet another shrug, pulling Violet closer to them. "But that won't change the fact you screwed up big time dad. And now your probably gonna screw up in this house too."

"I thought we agreed to at least try and be civil with each other during the move. Me and your mother are trying to work things out and the one thing we do not need right now are you two running your mouths any more than usual." A deep authoritative looked crossed over the face of the man (Y/n) and Violet had the honor of calling father, his eyes shooting stern looks between the both of them.

It hadn't always been like this. Each of them could tell you of a night not so long ago where family dinners were the highlight of their day, week even. But now those memories had been replaced a scar on an arm, a permanent reminder that mistakes had been made.

"And I thought you agreed to not stick your dick in anyone else when you got on one knee."

"Ben, just stop." The red headed lady sighed, stilling him with a tight grip on his shoulder. Therefore preventing him from taking a step towards his children. Her voice was close to emotionless as she briefly regarded the man next to her. A small call of 'Vivian please—' was tossed her way, being waved off with a sharp exhale of air.

"Why don't you two grab some of your boxes and start unpacking. That way you'll have time to set up each of your seperate rooms the way you want." She spoke to them with a lowered tone. The intent of getting them to leave went unsaid.

The teenagers exchanged looks between each other before collectively setting off to the moving van behind them, leaving behind their parents to argue for the tenth time that week in voices they thought were quiet enough so they wouldn't hear. It was only once they had both picked up their seperate things to waddle into the house and up many sleek wooden staircases with various size cardboard boxes in hand did anyone say anything.

"God I hate them so much."

(Y/n) walked into Violets room with her, still balancing a mountain of heavy containers on their hip as their upset sister threw her things on the floor, a bare bed and some empty shelves being the only thing in what was to become Violets den. But they slid their own boxes down onto the hardwood floor, later choosing to resort in kicking them across the hallway towards the direction of their new room, and chose to entertain her whining with a question of why.

"I don't want to change schools. I dont want to be the weird new kid. And I don't want to be in a different room than you! The only thing good thats come out of this is the stupid house, and they've already started to ruin that too." The younger girl grumbled. She kicked her bed limply frame before flopping back onto the mattress.

"Hold on let's go back to the part where you don't want to have your own room. Some part of me recalls all the times you begged mom to have your own place at the old house." (Y/n) said with a toothy grin, laughing as Violet stretched out on the bed to playfully hit them.

"Yeah but at this point I'd put up with your horrible music taste and chip crumbs over anything that had to do with them." She made sure to anunciate her point as she jabbed a hard thumb at the window leading to an outside veiw of the front yard. Probably where Ben and Vivian were still arguing.

(Y/n) squinted their eyes in a fake offended manor, beginning the process of exiting Violets room at the excuse of being wounded by her harsh words.

"Smashing Pumpkins and barbecue chips happen to be my spirit animal thank you very much."

"Chips aren't even an animal asshole!"

Violet just received a cheerful middle finger, the two smiling as their veiw of each other faded from sight.

It was hours later when they had finally decided to start unpacking.

The sky was noticeably darker outside of the one window in their room, noting the passing of time. (Y/n)'s parents had only stopped by their room once since the little incident on the lawn, each alone, to check in that they were at least still in the house. The conversations didn't last very long to say the least. And from the very short bouts of audible mumbling coming from the wall in which Violets room connected to theirs, she had the same experience.

The first couple of boxes had only begun to unpack once the sound of a record needle dropped onto a shiny black disc.

The gray record player had been a gift from a couple Christmas' ago, the item quickly climbing its way to the top of (Y/n)'s most prized possessions. While Violet had later received an iPod and matching speaker set to go with it, they had always preferred the faint scratching of a needle as the music began to play. Records of both older and more modern bands were attached to the hip of the machine, the collection one worthy of gawking at. They would have to remind themself look for a record shop in town later.

Not everyone always liked their music taste though.

"Got any Cobain?"

(Y/n) momentarily fumbled the lampshade they were holding, heart feeling like someone had just slammed it inbetween a car door. They only regained their grip on the cloth covered item as they whirled around with their arm extended as if ready to throw a pitch.

And we're faced with a total stranger.

He had a mop of the dirtiest blond hair they had ever seen on someone, somehow curly and straight at the same time. Steely gray eyes fixed their gaze dead center on them, the swirling color reminding (Y/n) briefly of the way a storm at sea could rip a five ton ship in half before someone could even finish brushing their teeth.

He wore jeans and a green and black striped sweater, the horizontical pattern and his broad grin bringing the name Cheshire Cat to mind.

"Who the hell are you and how did you get in my house. Answer or I'll yell."

He seemed very unthreated by the threat of a lampshade being pointed at him.

"Got any Cobain?" He repeated with a calm tone, smile unwavering and eyes calm.

(Y/n) spared a quick look at their still playing record. The song was something cheery. Light. It contrasted with the strange atmosphere currently bottling up in the room.

"I do." They curtly responded. Nothing more.

"You can relax. Don't worry, I live next door." He chuckled. It was as every bit amused as the rest of him. It made (Y/n)'s brows furrow in annoyance.

"Being my supposed neighbor doesn't explain why you're inside my house. And my room. I could charge you for breaking and entering." It was meant to sound grown up; promising. They had the feeling however that he wouldn't really care.

"You could." He shrugged, lips turning downward to show he entertained the thought.

(Y/n) wanted to throw something at him, preferably heavy and metal, and lock the door on him. They weren't buying this whole next door neighbor shit. That's how people got killed. Dumb people.

But then again say he really was their neighbor. They'd probably feel terrible later. Not too terrible, concidering the way he was acting and exactly how he had managed to get inside their house unnoticed, but still pretty bad.

And Violet was just next door. They didn't want to lock him out there with her. They didn't even like entertaining that idea.

"Look, is there a point to you being here besides trying to scare the shit out of some people you don't even know. Because if not, I'd rather you and the sweater your granny knit for you hightail it out of here."

They turned to continue unpacking things after what they hoped was knocking the boys ego down a few pegs. (Y/n) avoided pulling out any what could be embarassing items from the boxes in the process, for they would be damned before they let this weirdo see the stuffed animal they've had since they were five.

"I just wanted to see new doctor next door and his family before any other of the neighborhood weirdos snatched you up." He shrugged—seemingly a repetitive motion of his as much as it was (Y/n)'s—eyes free to roam over then in an observatory manor while their back was turned. "You just happened to be the first person I ran into."

"How sweet." They snorted, rolling their eyes. Preoccupied by showing off a bitchy front, the mention of their dad's profession went straight over their head.

Something the blond boy behind them smiled at.

"What? Would you have rather I ran into someone else first?" The smile in the nameless boys tone was prominent. (Y/n)'s face felt the strange urge to light up, embarrassed that they didn't understand the joke he was making at their expense.

Instead they took a breath, eyes begining to set in a blank and hopefully unbothered stare. They slammed the lid shut on one of the boxes they had been unpacking, only to start speaking without even turning to look at the person behind them. Being a passive agressive bitch could be their favorite past time after all.

"Now let me take a guess here. You're a pretentious bastard who's father probably left them becuase they listened to their rock music too loud one night. And ever since then you've, what, been trying to over compensate for something with that smart ass mouth while breaking into people houses?"

"And let me guess. You're a nobody who's favorite color has been something dark since they learned what sounding edgy got them, pretending to like being mellow and laid back when in reality all you are is an attention whore." A voice ran back like a vocal mirror, tone entertained.

"Tacky, low, and sort of accurate. Touche, creep. Now get out of my room."

He just laughed from behind. A sort of layered laugh, buried with so many emotions and unspoken words that it was hard to get a read on it.

The laugh went on for a bit longer than it should have.

Creepy.

"You're fun." He grinned, playing with one of the random trinkets (Y/n) had set on a table. A fixed gaze was pinpointed on the back of their head, unmoving. "Not like the others."

"Oh wow. Would you look at that. My self esteem just rocketed through the roof at your very sincere words. Many thanks to you, stranger that broke into my house to promptly insult me."

"To be fair the back door was unlocked, and you started it first."

What was this. A kindergarten fight?

They closed their eyes for a moment, turning to face him with a conveintly located heavy book from a moving box in hand.

"Listen pal—"

"Oh so we're pals now? Kind of forward for someone you just met I think."

"—I'd love nothing more than to wipe that sick smile off your face, preferably with the hardcover of this novel, but I don't think I'd exactly be able to read it again knowing it touched your face. So get out asshole."

His smile strained against the fabric of sincerity, placing down the item in his hands back on the shelf it originated from. It was if he hadnt liked something they said, and it didnt seem to be the overall threat of a dictionary slap. But the change in expression went as fast as it had come, the boy now holding his hands up in mock surrender.

"You're the boss, grouchy. I have to go anyways. Stuff to do and all that. See you soon, neighbor."

They didn't grace him with an answer, grunting lowly and lowering the thick dictionary. Their eyes didn't once leave him as he walked slowly out of the room.

He paused by their door momentarily.

"Your sisters pretty cute by the way."

And then he was gone. The only memorabilia from the visit being the shine of his dark eyes.

Like a ghost.

They frowned.

Nothing interesting happened for the next few days.

Life went on as normal as it could for a family such as theirs; dealing with adultery, two teenage kids, and a new house that is. But things had settled pretty quickly despite everything, a hushed routine falling over each of the individual house members. Even Doctor Harmon had continued his profession of counseling people from home after his office had been arranged to his liking. Of course, he had made sure to make it clear that no one was to interrupted his sessions. He made that very, very clear.

Perhaps the most important—or most interesting—thing to note was (Y/n) hadn't seen that strange guy since their last encounter with him. They still werent sure whether to feel happy or worried about that.

A conversation with Violet later in the day had revealed that she hadn't in fact had the same experience. If it werent for the knowladge that (Y/n) wouldn't just stright up lie to them about this, she would have waved it off and claimed they were pranking her.

The lack of interacrion between her and the boy prompted the question in (Y/n)s mind of how he knew what Violet looked like then, and how she was co called "cute".

But they didn't mention that.

One good thing that come out of all of it was that it didnt feel strange or unusual that (Y/n) had been thinking about him more than the average person. He had been a home invader after all. That would hang in someone's thoughts for a good while.

What was strange however was the feeling of being watched. The hairs standing up on their neck at the most random of times, chills running across their body in a tirade of tiny ice cubes. Any concerns they ever thought of making to their parents about this continuing occurance always ended in the same. Chalked up to paranoia or a new house. So nothing was said.

Maybe that's why they had been so keen to get out of their house, despite it being for the first day at a new school.

"Why can't you ever drive us anywhere? Maybe then I wouldnt have to listen to dad lecture me about how late I am getting up in the mornings." Violet asked, shoes scuffing against the concrete of courtyard grounds. Smoke spilled from her nose as it would from a dragon. (Y/n) had to resist the urge to ask for a drag.

"Me? Drive dad's precious car anywhere than out the driveway? I think not." They scoffed playfully despite the words being more than true. Violet lightly smiled at that, one hand going up to hold her black hat onto the top of her head as a gust of wind nearly blew it off.

Student after student shouldered their way through the siblings, the two having to swim upstream just to get to the wing of the school that held their first periods.

This was the first place (Y/n) had felt alone. Despite being surrounded by kids with horrible B.O and being flanked by their sister, that faint itchy feeling of being watched was nowhere to be seen. No pun intended. It was very relieving. They hadn't realized how much it had been bothering them these past couple of weeks.

"I'm just saying, it'd be nice to hear something other than how I woke up late once be—"

"Hey!"

Both (Y/n) and Violet stopped at the loud elimination. The shout had obviously been directed in their direction. Evident of the three angry looking girls stomping their way.

"Oh god." Was all (Y/n) heard from Violet mutter before a group of upper class privileged kids were staring down at them from their noses, acting as if someone pissed in their lucky charms this morning. Or whatever wealthy people eat for breakfast. Steak? That seemed accurate enough.

"There's no smoking in school!" The same high voice as before cracked. "Second hand smoke kills you know!" The ringleader of the trio snapped. She had brown hair as straight as a board, and two other friends that looked like carbon copies of herself—save for the different skin colors.

(Y/n) had to resist the urge to cringe and laugh at the same time. It was almost embarrassing how stereotypical these mean girls were. With their designer clothing and posh adittudes it was almost like they had walked straight out of High School Musical and into real life. More embarassing for them than anything. And definitely not worth the time.

"Sorry man. We're both new here, didn't know." The cigarette Violet had snagged from her mom's purse this morning fell to the ground wastefuly as (Y/n) flicked it out of their sisters hand, going to stomp out the dying light. At least before the same skinny brunette slammed her foot down on their own to get to it first.

"Bitch!" They yelped painfully whilst jumping back. Even Violets eyes widened in slight suprise. By now a few people had turned their way, the beginnings of a circle big enough to stay away from the confrontation but small enough to see what was going on forming. (Y/n) had seen enough movies and been in school long enough to know they were all hoping for a fight. They got the feeling this must happen often.

"People sit here! You can't just do that." She snarled with the now slightly crumpled ciggarette in hand, a few strands of brown hair getting coated in spit with the ferocity she used.

"Jeez! What crawled up your ass this morning?" (Y/n) marveled with all their weight temporarily on one foot. Someone whispered back that the confrontational girls grandma had died from cigarettes, to which they were met with a gaze that said 'fuck her grandma and the rude ass bitch she spawned'.

"I'll go throw it away. Could have just asked me, asshole."

"No. I want to see you both eat it."

Silence even from the crowd.

What in the absolute hell—

One of the girls friends tugged on the brunnettes sickeningly tasteful pullover, timidly calling out that they should all just leave now. But their hand was shoved away in favor of repeating what had just been said.

"No. They need to eat it. I'll make them."

(Y/n) pinched tbe bridge of their nose before looking in disbelief at Violet.

From there they didn't really remember what happened—at least that's what they told the principal and their parents. Later in class Violet would think about the way they had practically managed to fend the girl off all on their own, despite being completely taken by suprise. Not everyday someone trys to make you eat a cigarette of the ground after all. She regretted not doing more than spitting on one of the three girls faces though. Maybe then she could have been sent home with (Y/n) instead.

"Lucky." She frowned before picking up a pencil and copying down more algriba notes, can't helping but feel at that moment that math was a torture device straight from hell.

(Y/n) hadn't known much peace since the first day at school.

Neither at home or the educational building. The only benefits of the latter was that the prickling sensation never occurred once; durring class or inbetween. Or really anywhere outside of the house in fact. But at least at home they didn't have to worry about being slapped in the face while eating a pb and j for lunch.

Even Violet had started jumping into fights more often, painting a target on both of their backs. Not like the both of them really cared beyond some bloody cuts. At least when they went home now they would be sporting matching bruises.

Ben and Vivian were less than happy with this new revelation. The two were still in this awkward entanglement of the process of forgiveness and anger, so coming home to both of their kids looking like they had been pelted with rocks was something no one needed. Often they threatened, or in Vivians cade offered, to have them moved to a different school. But that was quickly shot down, Violet claiming she wasn't going to run anymore. (Y/n) had simply shrugged when asked why they wanted to stay, saying if Violet wasn't moving, then she wasn't either.

I suppose the failing parents could have found some sort of comfort in knowing their problems were outshines by the companionship of their own children, but the pair of cloudy minded adults continued to crash and burn all the same. (Y/n) wouldn't be surprised if she came down the stairs one night to get some water only to find Ben sleeping on the couch. He did deserve it after all. From the snippets of arguments they had heard right after the cheating scandle had come out, he had pulled some dick moves. Litteraly.

Maybe that's why they didn't feel any guilt when their feet carried them into his unlocked office one day.

It was a rather unfortunate event to leave your works glass double doors unlocked while out getting groceries, especially when you have a child such as (Y/n) who often found themself in places as if by some force of will. Like their feet had just been on autopilot. People called it snooping. They called it subconscious curiosity. Often it ended up in Vivian or someone else vigorously apologizing for them walking into the back of a store or something.

Perhaps it was this subconscious curiosity that led them to looking through random bookshelves, skimming over pages about psychology and counseling before eventually placing them back. It wasn't untill their fingers had closed around a new type of textured paper did that autopilot mode switch off.

A manilla folder was found weighing heavily in their hands, having been wedged between more college textbooks on the wonders of the human mind. It had probably been placed there on accident more than likely, but that was the last thing on their mind as they flipped the thing open.

Skipping past pages of notes in their dad's handwriting, they stopped on the last page. A personal profile and picture of the person this folder was all about. Contact info, a genericnphone number, and random adress were written. All things they skimmed past. Then they had no desire to delve into a strangers adress or problems. It felt immoral to do that.

Later they wished they would have.

Wind lapped at their legs as the folder suddenly landed on the carpet below with a dulled thump. Their fingers had slackened on the thick office object just enough for it to flutter to the grounds.

(Y/n)'s eyes had grown to the size of a silver dollar at the sight of a picture frowing up at them. The slight of the person's haunting eyes all too familiar.

A pair of dangerous gray pupils had gazed back at them, saying more than anyone ever could with their voice.

"Dad treats the Tate Langdon?"

Vivian meerly let out a curious hum in response, eyes never leaving the dragon fruit she was preparing as a snack (probably against Moria's wishes, a house maid that had just randomly popped up one day. Just like everything else in this place, she was weird. (Y/n) often had a hard time telling if she was a sweet elderly woman, or a young adult hellbent on wearing the most lowcut uniform.)

"Tate Langdon. That's his name." (Y/n) walked deeper into the room, hands stuffed deep in their pockets. They had promptly walked out of Doctor Harmons office upon seeing that file, accompanied with the name Tate Langdon in big, black letters. Their feet had taken up that strange habit of wandering places where they were most or least needed; probably due to a combination of shock and thirst for answers. Answers it was best to not go asking Ben about.

"He's supposed to be our next door neighbor. Weird as shit. Just showed up in my room uninvited a few days ago." They elaborated, trying to stay as casual as possible. Reaching out to grab at the fruit being prepared, all they got was a slap on the wrist and stern look for cussing via mother.

"Sounds peculiar. Apparently our neighbors have a habit of being like that." Vivian continued. (Y/n) made the brief connection between the mention of an offputting lady and her daughter showing up the other day as renovations were being done. Must have been more neighbors. "I'm sure he just wanted to say hi."

Another downwards slice of the kitchen knife.

"And you know I don't ask about your dad's patients (Y/n). It's none of my business who he helps." She said. The comment was so matter of fact it was almost annoying.

"Right. Because you and dad still talk to each other." The youngest one in the room deadpanned.

"You know what I mean." Vivian sighed. The light had hit her face in such a way just then, making her seem ten years older than she was. It had been like this ever since the scandle. (Y/n) had been noticing more of that a lot lately.

"I'm just saying. You know that dad only sees the people that no one else wants to deal with. And not for a good reason. Now this Tate guy knows where we live. You dont think that's spooky?"

"A lot of things can be spooky." Came the short response.

"But come on you have to admit—"

"(Y/n) I don't even know why I'm discussing this with you." Vivian threw the knife down, frustrated. "Either you can come help me make some food for tonight, or go back to whatever you were doing before. Preferably out of the confines of that office. I don't have time to entertain every single worry you have!"

They blinked.

"Look hun. Me and your dad are going through a tough time with this move and councling. Would it kill you to show some sympathy for us instead of causing another scene like you did on the lawn the other day?"

(Y/n) wanted to respond with sarcasm. Maybe even a smart ass quip. You don't think I know? They wanted to hiss. That you and dad can't stand to keep doing this? You think I don't know how upset everyone is? None of that gives you an excuse to keep treating me and Violet like temporary distractions.

But nothing came out. Nothing other than the sound of steady breathing.

So thank god for Moira, no matter how creepy she was.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting something."

(Y/n) just shook her head with a small no to answer the maid that had appeared from think air, eyes peeling off Vivian as they headed for the one spot they and Violet had been frequenting the most lately. The confused expression of Moira when they passed was noticed and filed away to be ignored as a beeline was made for the basement.

A corner with some glossy magazines (Vivians doing) and candy bar wrappers ( (Y/n)s doing, but a team effort in the consumption) were the only real signs of life down in the basement. Aside from the one or two spiders and centipede that would have to be squished under a shoe to cease Violets occasional shreik, nothing moved down here.

It was a perfect place to be alone.

Clearing off a spot of dust on the floor, (Y/n) sat down criss cross to sink their head in the confines of their hands.

They never cried. But sometimes they got pretty close to it.

This house could be too much sometimes. Was too much. Everything had been to much ever since packing up all their belongings plus the kitchen sink and moving, but especially this godamn house and that goddamn feeling of being watched.

In an almost laughably ironic way, that feeling quadrupled anytime they sat in the basement. It was crushing. But it was crushing the way a weighted blanket might be. If they were going to feel paranoid all the time they might as well try to get a little comfortable with some exposure.

"Your sister has some blades stashed away if you want to cut yourself."

And there he was. Back in the house as if he owned the place, staring into (Y/n)'s mind with a concealed smile.

"It's rude to stare you know." They mumbled up at Tate from the dust covered floor. Encaptivated almost as they watched his feet swing back and forth idily off the stairs beneath him.

"Doesn't stop you."

It took (Y/n) a moment to prosess much else. Their brain already felt like mush, and the added presence of him felt like a short circut waiting to happen.

"Wait did you say cut myself?" They bewildered. "With razors Vi has?:

"Yeah." Tate shrugged. "Might make you feel better. Always does for us."

Us.

Oh Violet..

"Stay the fuck away from my sister Langdon."

"What? Jealous or something?" He said with a smile, not at all thrown by the sudden curveball of his last name.

"No. I'm not."

And it was true. They weren't jealous. They didn't even want to be talking to him themself.

"You know I think we got off on the wrong foot." Tate mused. (Y/n) shot him a look that feigned confusion. "And I'd like to try and get to know you better."

"My dad treats you. I'm not dumb Tate. I know he only helps people who are really fucking messed up."

"Am I?"

"Are you."

Tates eyes flashed.

This is what he liked from them. The silent battle of wits. It was honestly amusing how much they liked to think they knew. That they had him all figured out as this annoying next door physcopath neighbor.

It was almost laughable.

"Look. I'll cut you a deal." (Y/n) exhaled. They had come down here for some space and quiet but ended up in this position. And now they just wanted him gone; more than usual.

"Stop showing up in my room uninvited and I'll concider letting you to get to know me better." They paused midway to mumble something amongst the lines of 'even against my better judgment'. "I have a feeling this deal won't keep yoy away from Violet though. So just watch yourself Tate."

"You've already got me all figured out huh Harmon?" He grinned. "But a deals a deal. Scouts honor." He raised a hand and placed the over other his heart stiffly, doing nothing to convince (Y/n).

"Right. Now get out of our basement. Please." They added onto the end just to try and negotiate a little bit of peace. But it was a more so just a soft-ish demand for him to leave them alone at that point.

"Is every meeting of ours going to end with you banishing me from your house?" Tate asked with a grunt while begening to hoist himself up carefully.

"Depends. Do you want it to?"

He didn't answer.

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