“Alright then…um…I think there are some extra clothes upstairs, follow me.” Remy put the plates in the sink and gestured for Morty to follow him up stairs. He turned into the bedroom at the top of the stairs and opened the closet. The room was the same as the day his cousin had died, luckily his Aunt and Uncle had not yet donated all his clothes yet. His cousin was about the same height and build as Morty so they would fit.

He picked out a purple-blue shirt, some jeans and boxers from the closet and handed them to Morty. “Here you can have these…the bathroom is through there and there should be some extra towels and such in there, get cleaned up and we’ll talk some more alright?”

Leaving the room Remy could tell that Morty was looking around again examining everything in the room. He smiled and headed back to his room to change.

Morty cheerfully took the offered clothes and had to examine them closely--particularly the boxers--before he seemed to actually remember what they were. "...Oh. All right. I'll...I'll only be a little while."

Morty scuttled away into the bathroom and closed the door, silently. He was even more amazed by the bathroom--it was such a weird-looking room, with all the tile, the sink, and the combination of a bath and shower. After a few moments of studying the room, he took a little while to ease himself out of the clothing he had been wearing. Underneath the clothing was, of course, his skin. He had what looked like tribal tattoos on his chest and back, but no other such tattoos on the rest of his body.

Morty slipped the shirt on easily. He assumed that the shorter pair of lower-wear went on first, and he ended up with all of his clothing on in the correct manner.

He stepped out of the bathroom, peering around the now-empty room unsurely. Where had his human companion gone to?

Remy was in his shower trying to wash out a nights worth of dirt from sleeping on the ground. He didn’t realize that his new friend had come looking for him until he opened the shower curtain to each for a towel and saw two red orbs blinking at him. He made an eep! of his own and grabbed the nearest towel, “MON DIEU! MORTY…What are you doing!?”

Remy could see that the red head was generally surprised to find him in such a state. He looked hurt and frightened. “Sorry to yell, but I am showering.”

Morty wasn't in the least bit shocked. He'd been confused, seeing Remy in the shower. Nudity, where he was from, was a normal thing to see even among strangers. The Akweetee operated in a tribe-like manner. They held rituals, and most of these rituals were done in the nude or in elaborate costume.

He sniffed slightly once Remy calmed down. "...Oh. I'm...sorry?" Morty's kind did not shower, per se. They had communal bathhouses. It was a place of social activity. People would go there to bathe, of course, and it was an everyday trip. They would also go there to socialize and meet friends.

Remy grabbed his clothes and quickly dressed. He could tell that Morty was really up set. He walked over the red head and gave him a hug. “Your alright, it was an honest mistake. Come on, lets head downstairs I still need some coffee and I think we need to talk.” The artist was puzzled by his new friend, sometimes he acted like he was from another planet. He looks so human though.

He added the water and the beans to the coffee pot and let it percolate. When he turned back around he noticed that Morty had found his sketchbook and was looking through the pages. Morty stopped on the picture of himself and studied the drawing.

“I hope you don’t mind. I thought you had an amazing face and I just couldn’t help myself.” Remy smiled broadly and got out two cups. Morty then turned a few pages back and found the last drawing that Remy had done of Marcus.

Morty didn't appear to be too interested in the book after he found the drawing of himself. He set it down on the counter, realizing that there were just sketches of some sort in the book. He didn't need to see a thousand sketches--he was not here for art. He was here to observe the actions and gain the trust of a human being.

Seeing as chance had brought Remy to him, he'd decided that this human was probably his best bet. They already seemed to be acting friendly towards each other.

He peered curiously at Remy to see what he was doing. The cups were something he recognized. What he was going to do with them...he didn't know.

Remy filled the cups with steaming coffee and set one in front of Morty. “Here you go…um…how do you take your coffee? I have real cream and sugar…”

Remy sat across from the puzzled red head and added a ton of heavy cream and sugar to the coffee. “It is kinda gross tasting but, I need it to get me awake…especially after I had to sleep on the ground last night.” Remy sipped the light coco colored liquid and watched Morty puzzle over the drink.

“Morty…where are you from originally? Your accent is really unique.”

"Er..." Coffee...? What in the world was coffee? Morty's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "...I suppose I'll have the same as you?" he decided, uncertainly.

He studied the odd-looking liquid in the cup in front of him. It was a dark brownish color and smelled very strange. Morty was not sure he would like it...after all, he supposed the food here was much different than the food back home, which he was so much more used to. The only thing that his planet and Earth shared in common crop-wise was sugar.

"Oh. I'm..." Morty squinted slightly, trying to remember the country he'd used for his backstory. "I was born in South Africa, and raised in Russia."

“Russia and South Africa, really?” Remy looked suspiciously at the other man and drank his coffee feeling the hot liquid warm his belly and help un-cloud his tired mind. Remy couldn’t picture the pale red head in Africa let alone anywhere, he seemed so out of place. He almost laughed out loud as Morty studied the coffee as if it was some magic potation. ‘No, I definitely cannot picture him living anywhere….’“Do you have any family you would like to contact? There is free long distance on the landline or I have my laptop with me if you want to email your family.”

Little did the artist know how far away his new friend was from. Remy finished the last dregs of his coffee and put the cup in the sink. “Morty, if you don’t mind me asking what did you do before you lost your job?”

"...Really...?" Morty knew his story wasn't very believable, mostly due to his odd looks and mannerisms. He was hoping that it would hold out just a little longer...he couldn't have his cover being blown in so little time--he'd worked too hard to reach this point!

He finally sipped his coffee, once he added everything he desired into it. He did not seem too fond of the taste, but he didn't recoil in disgust, either. He set it down, politely, and decided it was a little much for him. Morty sighed and looked up again at the mention of family. Back home he had an older brother...older by just a little bit. It appeared that Remy had lost Morty when he mentioned 'long-distance landlines,' 'laptops,' and 'e-mail.' He looked downright mystified.

He wiggled a little in his chair, uncertainly. "...Oh? Job..." He bit his lip--he'd forgotten to add that into his backstory back home. As such, he began to run through human careers in his mind until he finally found one that suited him. "I worked in the fashion industry."

...He worked in the fashion industry back home. Surely that was a good career to go with?

Remy smiled and got very excited, “OH MY GOD!! That is fantastic!! What part of the fashion industry did you work in? I’ve done some part-time fashion design work when I was still in school…My fiancé used to work as a model. Marcus always loved to pretend to walk down the catwalk when we would go shopping for clothes.”

Without warning Remy’s face crumpled into a grimce and he started to cry. He turned away from Morty and let the sadness of Marcus’s death pass over him. ‘Mon Dieu! It had been almost a year and still every time I think of him I can’t stop myself from breaking down into tears.’

“I’m sorry mes ami, I just need a moment.” The artist grabbed a few paper towels and wiped his eyes.

Morty's confusion only grew at a few of Remy's words, particularly when he started talking about his fi...fai...fuh...whatever he said. That word...did not exist on his planet. No, the Akweetee referred to their significant others as mates, even before any acts of passion came about.

"I design clothing," Morty hummed, honestly. He was glad that he didn't have to make anything up this time around--he really did design clothing and other fashion-related items back home. "All kinds of clothing." He didn't go into detail about what kinds of clothing he worked on. He knew for a fact that articles of clothing were different here and he didn't want to seem any more suspicious than he already did seem...

Morty was not prepared for Remy to break down as he did, and he could only sit there awkwardly. From the way the other male spoke, he assumed that this 'Marcus' was no longer alive, and that he had been important to Remy.

Remy could see Morty’s confusion and decided that he had some explaining to do. After all Morty had been open and forthright about his past, he might as well. He sat back at the table and ran a hand through his brown-blonde hair.

“Marcus was going to be my husband. We had been together for about four years and I loved him so much…it was about a week before the wedding and Marcus was driving home. A drunk driver hit his car and Marcus was killed instantly. I’ve been kinda messed up ever since then. That is why I am out here…I am trying to patch my life back together and um….yea.” Remy fiddled with his hair and picked at a nonexistent scrap of food on the table.

“Nevermind…I can’t believe I am opening up to a complete stranger! Je vais noix !*” Remy tried to smile reassuringly at Morty, “Did you have a significant other?”

* I’m crazy

"...Oh."

Morty felt bad, sure...but he was a little confused about Remy's explanation--'husband,' for example, was a foreign term to him. He vaguely remembered learning that term in his study of humankind...but he couldn't remember what it meant. He had no clue what a drunk driver or a wedding was, either. Or a car, for that matter. Therefore, he didn't have much to say...he couldn't say much, otherwise, he'd end up looking like a total idiot.

"...Significant other? Oh, no...no," Morty admitted, sheepishly. "Once in the past...but, it...did not work." He had once had a mate, a young Akweetee by the name of Lleu. The two had been close friends since childhood, even though Lleu was about six yearly cycles younger than Morty. They had been too alike...far too alike for a relationship to work between the two of them.

“You’re a really god listener Morty.” Remy smiled and blew his nose. Morty was so quiet, it was almost creepy. It was like the red head was a giant camera recording and cataloging everything that he saw, “So what do you want to do today? I am pretty much on vacation, so the sky’s the limit!”

"...Anything you want to do, I suppose. I don't exactly have any other place to go."

...Which was partially true. He had been dropped off here the previous night to do study and documentation. He would need to ask Remy later if he had a writing utensil and something to write on that he could borrow. He hadn't brought anything with him in the hopes that he would not be discovered for what he really was.

He could call a ship back to pick him up at any time. He was wearing an ankle bracelet of sorts on his left ankle...it was obscured from view by his pants for now. If he opened it up and pressed a button, a ship would come and pick him up as long as he was out of the view of any humans.

Remy thought for a moment…he hadn’t been to his uncle’s home since he was a child. He was sure that the old town had changed, but then might be able to find something fun to do.

“Well there isn’t much to do around the house…so lets head into town. My uncle left me his old pick up and the town may not be big, but I can remember a few hotspots. I’ll grab my camera so I can take reference photos. Morty do you need anything?” Remy thought that maybe if he got Morty out and around other people he would open up and maybe talk a little more.

...What in the world was an 'old pick-up?' Morty looked nonplussed for a moment before he managed to shake it off, remembering where he was and the importance of looking like he knew what was going on around him.

"...Perhaps something to write with, and on?" He had the urge to write and to sketch. Of course, he could only write in his own language, which his kind called Rhodrhi. It was an odd language that was sort of a mix between Chinese, English, and Greek lettering. There were no spaces or punctuation, much like early writings of Latin.

He could pass it off as doodles, most likely, if Remy saw it.

“You bet…” Remy walked upstairs and grabbed one of the many empty sketch books he had brought and a few graphite pencils. He grabbed his DSLR camera and a few lenses. Remy returned to the kitchen and handed the sketch book and pencils to Morty. “Well lets get going. I’ll pull the truck around.”

Remy grabbed his coat and headed for the old barn. Inside was Papa Luc’s beloved red 1951 Chevy one ton. Remy smiled seeing it, “Hello Lucy baby! Ready for a drive into town?” The artist jumped behind the wheel and started up the truck. She shuddered to life and Remy pulled her out of the barn and to the front door.

Morty was nowhere to be seen so Remy honked the horn, “Come on mes
ami!”

Morty took the offered items and studied them closely, realizing that the pencils were probably for writing, and he was supposed to write in the sketch book. He held the items close to him as he walked outside. He stayed on the porch, peering uncertainly after Remy.

...He'd said something about an 'old pick-up.' Morty had no idea what that was...but it wasn't long before he found out.

He heard the revving of some sort of engine and scurried back into the house, almost dropping the items Remy had fetched for him. When he heard the horn honking, Morty nearly jumped out of his skin. He shuffled back outside and noted that Remy was sitting inside of this...red monster. There was a space next to him, so Morty put two and two together and shuffled to the other side.

He wasn't sure how to open the door, but he managed to tug it open after four tries. He sat beside Remy and gingerly closed the door behind him.

“Well mes ami, what do you think of he old girl?” Remy patted the dashboard and gave Morty a wide grin. “This here is Lucy, she is my uncle’s first truck. I’ve never driven her before, but she handles quiet well.”

Remy pulled out of the driveway and down the poorly paved road that lead into town. “Crownsville, is a nice town small, but nice. I know a few places that are a lot of fun. I think we should head to the town square, there are lots of shops and interesting people to meet. What do you think?”

"It's...female?" Morty shot Remy a rather quizzical look. This...thing they were in. It was much like a ship, but it did not hover. It instead propelled itself forward on the ground. How primitive.

He looked quite puzzled, for some reason. Back home on his planet, the only vehicles that were used were ships and hovercraft-like inventions. Riding animals and using their power to pull or fly things was also commonplace, especially in more rural areas.

Thankfully, he knew what a town square was and understood what shops and interesting people meant. "...I'll go wherever you like. I'm not familiar with the area, after all--everything is so new to me."

“Lucy is just a nickname…” Remy stole a quick glance at Morty then turned his eyes back to the road. Did he really think that the car was alive? Remy was bewildered by the little red head. One moment he acted like a normal human being, then he spoke or moved in a way that made him seem like he was…alien. “Didn’t you ever name your car or possessions?”

Remy drove them to a small town square. There was an old market, a drug store that included a soda fountain, a feed and tack store…etc. The town was very quiet and its populace was mainly composed of elderly cowboys and new age hippies. Remy pulled into the local post office and turned off the truck. “I have to run in here and make sure that my mail was forwarded from Ne’ Orleans…you can come in if you want or start exploring the town. I can catch up with you later. Oh here, is some money…”

Remy handed his friend a twenty. “That should get you something to eat and the essentials; toothbrush…etc.”

"Er...no, actually..." Morty seemed puzzled by the very notion--why would you bestow something with a name if it wasn't living, or wasn't a laboratory experiment of some sort? He uncertainly fell silent for the rest of the drive. He had a feeling that his cover was slowly slipping away...and that he didn't care for. After all, he was supposed to observed humankind in its natural habitat...without any human discovering what he really was.

Once they started passing buildings and other people, Morty's face was nearly glued to the window. He peered outside, almost amazed by what he was seeing. He wished he had eight pairs of eyes, so he couldn't miss anything at all.

Mail was a term he was familiar with--there was a delivery service of sorts back home. 'Ne' Orleans' was a foreign term, and it was one he didn't recognize. Geography was not one of his strong suits. He held his hand out nonchalantly for the money...and then he paused, staring down at it curiously.

Of course, there was currency back on his home planet. But it was vastly different from human currency--this was also not one of his strong points. He awkwardly folded the small, strange piece of paper and shoved it into his pocket. "I will go with you, I think. I don't want to get lost."

“Alrigh’, Lets get going.” Remy hopped out of the truck and headed into the post office. The artist walked into the office and went to the small window. “Bonjour I am here to pickup my mail I had it forwarded here from New Orleans, Remy Champange.”

The coke bottle lenses of the old man behind the window looked up at Remy. “Yes your Old Luc’s nephew ain’t ye…well here’s your mail.” Remy took the mail and looked through it, there was nothing of real importance in the pile and fitted it under his arm. “Is that young red headed woman with you?”

“Oh that’s my friend, Morty.” Remy turned to look at Morty and found him…