Wai
"You think so?" Owen's face flushed a little as he split a half-popped kernel between his canines. "Maybe I needed to be flung out of my hometown for a while," He mused. He *Had* Been talking to more people lately. 

"YES!! Yes, it's.. It's everything to me!" A layer of grogginess lifted from his head. "I'm okay at normal guitar, but my bass, it's my one true love," He gushed, swiping a finger along the swooping shape along the headstock. The simple touch hinted at a deep well of admiration and childlike wonder. "I was raised on this music, and playing it feels like.. Solar flares, electricity, my fingers sorta hurting but it's totally worth it!!" 

Owen blurted a whole stream of enthusiasm, one that had evidently been bubbling for ages. Conversations could lull sometimes, but never when you were talking to Owen about rock 'n roll. "I'd want to show you, but it is tragically four in the morning," He sheepishly realized. 

"Aw, hah, thank you! I shoved as many posters as I could into my boxes before I left- I'll bet there's probably more shoved away somewhere or other- *Fuck*, this stuff's good," He rambled, pausing for half a breath and some more popcorn. 

Uriel's leaning toward him didn't go unnoticed; he craved the casual closeness, and some feral piece of him wanted to bounce off the ceiling and then squeeze his sleepy friend so hard his ribs cracked. Later, surely. 

"Don't get many compliments on my interior decorating," He mused. "I.. It feels good to ramble about simple stuff that makes me happy, since all this paranormal prison business. You can gush to me about what makes you happy, too," He started, unsure of where exactly he was going with this. He trailed around the room, his hands moving in odd patterns as he spoke. "Or not happy. Talking, in general! Great fun."
Mary
"Ah... Then, maybe you could show me your music another day? I'd love to hear you perform something, even if this prison can hardly be considered a proper venue. " Uriel mused to themselves. The image of Owen in the center of a stage, hair almost fiery red in the spotlight, music blaring from any speaker available made the dream-weaver intrigued. 

"You want me to gush about what makes me happy?" Uriel put a hand to their chin, deep in thought. They sit down on Owen's bed, watching the boy pace excitedly in amusement. 

*Hmm.* That's a question Uriel had never thought about, and never cared to answered. It was a hard thing to think about, especially with the added pressure of appeasing Owen. 

"I suppose... I enjoy making other people happy. I've spent much of my life accidentally making people upset due to my abilities, that I'd like the chance to repent and use them for something good." 

Uriel trails off slightly, now hyper-aware of the odd subject they've brought up. 

"Well, that and knitting. I guess I could knit you a scarf, if you were ever cold... Which I doubt would ever happen." They laugh at that. 

"What movie were you thinking of putting on? I'm excited to see what subject would interest you, and at the prospect of associating a good memory with this prison."
Wai
The wandering boy grinned and shrugged at the idea of playing for people; the idea did tingle with intrigue in his head, and he tossed it around a little. Had to start somewhere, right? He rested his hands in his hoodie's pockets as Uriel continued. 

"From what I know, it's hardly your fault." Owen tilted his head, wondering how Uriel had reached that understanding of things. "Repent? Man, you've.. You've gotten a lot of crap for it, haven't you." Seemingly just remembering that he was very tired, he finished pacing and sat himself down on his bed next to Uriel. "That dream with the shark, for what it's worth, was lovely."

"I run hot, yeah, but I'm cool with that- hell, you're sitting on the king of all weighted blankets!" He poked the layers beneath them for emphasis. Closer inspection would reveal a strange heaviness to said layers, which no doubt made an impressive pocketful of heat. "I've seen you wear your work, it looks like being draped in clouds," He added. 

"Ah! Damn near forgot!" Leaning over to his desk to grab his laptop (and narrowly missing kicking Uriel in the face), he turned something over in his head. Leaning against the wall and flipping it open, he ventured: "Making other folks happy is nice, but what about you, what do you dream about?" A pause, as the strange feel of the hour coaxed a riskier thought from his groggy head. "Being here's given me a lot of time alone with myself.. Thinking in circles. That can't be good for me. But thinking in other people's circles all the time, that sounds exhausting, mate."
Mary
When Owen mentions the dream with the shark, Uriel blushes, and buries their chin deep inside of their poncho. 

"Ah, that... I'm happy I did something nice." Uriel furrows their eyebrows, deep in thought. "But... Usually it doesn't happen like that. The stronger a memory is, the more powerful a dream about that feeling becomes, and the more likely I get pulled in." They continue, trailing off. 

"Usually, people dream about regret. Most people don't take kindly to others seeing their sorrow. They get... Defensive, and angry. "

Uriel continues, scooching closer to Owen in order to see the screen better. "I don't think I've ever dreamed, honestly. I've watched people dream, yes, but I've never had a good night's sleep where I could contemplate my own memories. What I know of dreaming is entirely dependent on watching other people's dreams, and inferring the rest."

With that, Uriel's voice turns quiet, almost melodic. 

"Seeing how other people think... What keeps them up at night, what angers them... It's hard, but if I can prove my worth, then perhaps I can be useful to others. Truthfully, I still don't understand other people, but if I learn, then maybe I'll be a positive force."

Uriel pauses for a second. 

*Why did I say that? I promised I'd never tell that to other people, besides the only dream I had. I... Shouldn't have said that.*

They coughed, and looked intently at the Netflix screen. 

"Ah, but... Movie."
Wai
Owen commanded his half-thawed brain to listen carefully. More of that deep rumbling sound from his throat sufficed for responses he was a little too sluggish to formulate. "Sounds like an interesting way of knowing people," He murmured. It really was. 

"I get that bit about having to prove yourself.. My power's sort of hereditary. Except it isn't? Seventh sons of seventh sons, all healers- except for me. I can't heal jack. Hell, I was toasted the night my power manifested, and I got sent here for destroying stuff with it. *Asleep*. You're huddled next to quite possibly the crappiest healer in history!" He chuckled darkly, the humour masking the feelings reined back within the thought. 

Noticing that Uriel was straining to see the screen, he moved closer; their shoulders now softly smushed together. "We're supposed to help, so the stories go. All I've been up to is flunking maths, falling out of trees, and getting tangled up in stabby angel business." Another curt snort. And then, a peal of crackling laughter, like a piece of firewood falling and spitting out sparks.

The movie he'd started, *Monty Python and the Holy Grail*, was an old comfort, still dutifully serving its purpose in his heart. "I used to stay up late and watch this when I was sick as a kid," He reminisced, sounding a bit more chipper. "When my stomach hurt and I couldn't get comfortable, this bloody masterpiece would make me cackle so hard I'd be too tired to finish it." Sinking a little, he dared to rest his cheek lightly on Uriel's shoulder. "The old method's holding steady, eh?"
Mary
Uriel is cool to the touch compared to the naturally warm Owen, and they lean into the sudden contact. 

"You're a protector— in my eyes, it's better than being a healer. They heal injuries *After* They occur, but you prevent those injuries from happening in the first place. Perhaps they should be jealous of you." There's a small twinkle in Uriel's eyes, and they let out a quiet laugh. 

"I'm rather happy with the Owen sitting next to me right now. And its not like you have to worry about math here, right?"

Uriel turns their eyes towards the movie, and listens intently. As one of the characters makes a joke, their face goes blank as they process the punchline. 

One second, two seconds... 

Two and a half seconds after the joke is said, Uriel begins to laugh— not a pretty laugh either, an earthly chuckle that resonates deep within their chest as they fold in on themselves. 

"I don't think I've ever laughed like that. The old method is proving itself, it seems." They look at Owen, and smile.
Wai
The ants that were eating at Owen's guts were just about gone by now, soothed by the connection they had evidently been craving. Uriel's laughter felt like sweet molasses dripping through his brain, which drew back memories of drifting off to sleep on the couch back home to the smell of cookies baking. He really was exhausted, but few dreams he'd had lately were made of sweeter stuff. 

"Th-thank you. I, I needed to hear that from someone who isn't worried about me quite so much," Owen admitted. His mothers loved him, and had assured him of a million different things, but they looked at him sometimes as though he were on Death Row. "It's been rough, but. Your presence is a welcome one."

Shifting a little like a dog waking up from a nap and rousing only just enough to stretch his legs and loose a heavy sigh, the melting boy grinned back without turning his head. "You, my friend, need *Far* More low-brow comedy in your life than you've been given. Personal quest of mine now, actually."

Uriel's cool temperature was soothing against his usual heatwave of a resting place. The movie flickered along, the Knights of the Round Table faced off against demanding knights and deceptive bunnies, and Owen yawned softly.
Mary
Uriel smiles, a sleepy, half lidded expression on their face. They felt as if they were swimming in the deep blue ocean— in completely new territory, with nothing but their own strength keeping them afloat, but seeing a beautiful sea ecosystem right under their feet. Almost like the dream they gave Owen ages ago.

"You'll show me more of these videos? Unfortunately, you've made a very appealing promise that I'll most certainly hold against you in the future." 

They were nervous, yes. But they were utterly entranced by this new world, these new feelings of camaraderie. Uriel desired to sink into the depth of interpersonal relationships, and immerse themselves fully into what it means to have a connection with someone. 

Of course, they cared about their mother— she was a wonderful and strong woman, who braved getting exiled by the rest of the Melançon family for their own sake. But it was... Different. The gradual peeling back of layers, as they learned more and more about the boy lying against them— that thrill of being trusted was always implicit with their family, and not something to be earned. The satisfaction of earning trust was... Wonderful. 

"You're starting to fall asleep. Is this... A sleepover, then?" They ask, blinking up at Owen. "That's... I've never done a sleepover with a friend before." They yawn as well, the act almost infectious. "I'm a bit excited."
Wai
Uriel's question jolted Owen a bit- they had a point. He was dozing off finally, but there was also the small issue of having *An entire other person in his room.* A nervous current quivered up through his chest, which he tried to diffuse with a low hum. All the chords he could try would just reveal the same thing: a sleepover with Uriel sounded bloody wonderful. 

It hit him again how much he craved closeness like this, and how going without it for so long had affected him. A pang of fear flicked itself around his head annoyingly, worrying if the same thing would happen here as it had back home, that this gentle, tentative thing would slip through his fingers and leave him to realize all too late, but he banished it as hard as he could. Owen was a stubborn person, one who could take a hit. All the hits. *Stop with the doomsday prep, you nervous fool, you'll ruin it faster*. 

And it wasn't just any nameless buoy to be floating with- this is *Uriel*, who is so sweet and relaxed and who leans in and is leaned upon without rigidly sticking to some made-up rule about closeness that no one will ever properly explain. Maybe his bar was a little bit low. But it seemed that neither of them had much prior knowledge about friends, so. He decided that he looked forward to inventing some. 

"Yeah," He murmured softly. "This can be a sleepover." His voice may have been weighted down by impending sleep, but his fingers danced wildly. "It's been a long time for me.. If you wanna stay, you'd be welcome to," He managed to string together. Enough overthinking for one night. It was way past 5 now anyhow- the sun would be making its grand reappearance soon, so why the hell not? Flipping his laptop closed at the credits, he pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders and wondered if his neck would hurt later if he just conked out right there.