He isn't wired to just not answer at all, but nothing comes after that - including any sign of him - for quite a while. In fact, it's only an hour before the contract office will close before there's a knock on the door that will open to reveal K bundled up from eyes to shins in his duty coat, hands deep in his pockets.
He'll never be ready, but he promised to try; not Drake, but he doesn't have a good reason for anything less, so here he is. "Hello," he offers, muffled behind his high collar.
Just as he's said, Drake isn't going to chase K down and force him to sign. As much as everyone else wants him to be contracted, the choice has to be K's. Worst case, Drake figures... he'll see if Jesus wants to turn the puppy eyes on before or after K winds up in prison.
But he doesn't have to call Jesus. Late that afternoon, there's a knock on his door and a very bundled replicant in the hall. Drake takes in the sight of him curiously, wondering if how covered up he's chosen to be means something, then smiles at K and steps aside to let him in.
"Hey. Can I take your coat? Get you a drink?" Drake's just closing the door behind K when the approaching tap-taps of Sable coming to greet her friend reach the foyer and his dog appears, her ears perked and mouth open in a big canine smile. "A lapdog?" he jokes, motioning for Sable to sit before getting attention. "Good girl."
Part of it is that it's winter, and K is from Los Angeles; it's true that the sunny California weather of old is long, long gone, but the biome ventilation over his city still means that largely, the temperature stays around the same year round. He's not used to living somewhere with snow, and his associations with it are... not great, despite how beautiful it is.
Part of it, though, is comfort. Drake offers basic hospitality and K steps inside and unzips his coat readily enough, but - as usual - there's something in him that can't help but respond to Sable, smiling and his shoulders relaxing when he sees her.
"Water is good, thank you," he answers, waiting like he's learned to do until Sable has permission to be pet or to approach him, and then crouching to greet her with the traditional ear rubs. "Hello, Sable," he tells her, warm, and then his attention ticks back up to Drake. "Is this... okay? Not a bad time?"
"You've got it," Drake tells him, taking his coat and hanging it up as K kneels to pet his dog. He leaves them in the foyer to go get drinks, and when he glances back at K's question Sable is practically climbing into his lap already... she adores K. Hopefully that'll make this whole ordeal a little easier on both of them. "Timing's fine. If we don't get there before the office closes I'll go by early and make sure they file it first thing. You're not getting arrested."
He gets them each a glass of water and brings them over to the coffee table, where there are several other things waiting... a thick stack of papers, face down and divided with clips. A plate of cookies that look handmade, though the flavors aren't obvious at a glance. And another page resting face up, with a notepad and pen beside it.
K is not afraid of getting arrested. He's not looking forward to it, of course, but it's not a deterrent. Only keeping his promise to Jesus, to Sara, is enough to get him moving on the deadline, lets him nod his acknowledgement; it makes his, "Thank you," no less sincere for all of that. He'll help, if it comes to that.
He doesn't mind Sable being in his lap, isn't in any danger of being knocked over by her, but he isn't going to stay in the foyer either so he holds her off long enough to stand up again; he keeps a hand in her fur as he moves over and settles where Drake is setting down the water, and stops trying to hold her back as soon as he sits down.
His eyes land on the papers, slide away to the cookies, tick back over a moment later. He was going to say something. He doesn't remember what, so he murmurs something low to Sable, and then straightens up in his seat to look at Drake.
"I'm sure you've figured it out, but I'm not comfortable with this. Not because of you, or anything you've said or done. Just the whole... concept." He says it almost apologetically because it's an explanation, not an excuse. "But I won't ever be if I stay caught in the system, and I know that."
Drake sits and pats the center cushion for Sable, who jumps up and lies down between them, front paws and head in K's lap and butt against Drake with her tail wagging on his lap. He doesn't seem to mind, just laughs softly and gives her some fond butt scritches while they settle. It's pretty obvious that he isn't going to rush K through this conversation, not even reaching for the paperwork yet. And when the other man speaks first, he has Drake's full attention.
"I know that, yeah. For what it's worth, I don't think many people ever get comfortable with the concept... but you can be comfortable with your situation, if you sign with someone worth trusting." Still petting Sable, Drake reaches for the contract he's written up. "The only promise I can really make with any of this is to always listen and respect you, and that starts here. If there's a problem, we figure it out together. Read it over, and tell me if there's anything you don't like or want to add."
With that he passes K the paper and tugs the plate a little closer to them.
"No cookies for Sable, but you should try them. Padme's really gotten into baking."
K is not a man who turns down food no matter what it is, normally; he was never in any danger of starving himself, at least not any more than anyone else on the planet was, but that doesn't mean he doesn't value the abundance and variety available now. Even as he accepts the papers his eyes drop to the cookies and he smiles at the offer, small as it is.
"Thank you. I will after," he promises, and flips the papers over in his hands to start reading. It doesn't take long - his eyes dart back and forth across the page much faster than a human would, flipping between pages about every fifteen seconds or so until he's down to the end of the last page.
He's not good at this, he thinks. He has no idea how to negotiate for himself, no real way to know how to advocate for something he doesn't expect to be heard, but he tries: "I have my own income. I can pay for... somewhere."
"Are you sure you want that in writing?" Drake asks him, knowing enough about the city's bullshit at this point that he'd rather not include it. "Subs can't rent property, so the only way to put in the contract that you're paying for it yourself when I'm legally supposed to provide for you is to say I allow you to work but claim your earnings."
Hopefully the explanation will make it obvious why he doesn't like putting that in a contract, but he'll let it be K's decision.
"It'd be changing this part here." He indicates a sub-clause under where he's given K the right to work, nestled between that it can be whatever job he likes and that his working doesn't preclude him having an authorized line on Drake's account for purchases. Only vice-versa. "And then this line about housing would be conditional."
K had pulled a paycheck - and bonuses - at the LAPD. A lot of it was nominal, considering they could pay him whatever they wanted and he had no way of changing it if he thought it should be more or, as happened often, if they docked his checks for medical care, supplies, and repairs as they thought necessary. He is accustomed to others claiming his earnings.
He glances over the places Drake has indicated, rubbing the tip of his thumb over the surface of the paper almost idly.
"How else would you suggest then? I simply pay you directly?"
"If you can trust me enough for that agreement, yeah. You can send me back the rent and as far as we're concerned... it's your place, you're paying for it. If that's what you want. But there's no way to put it in the contract without losing you other freedoms." He hesitates, then adds, "We're already handshake agreeing it's private, guaranteed. Right? Even if you gave me a key I wouldn't come in uninvited. Everybody deserves someplace that's just for them."
"I don't need it in the contract." Because the truth is that K doesn't trust the city any more than he trusts anything else about this - he certainly wouldn't expect to try to argue any of it. If they really want to do something, really want to put him somewhere or take something from him or do something to him, they'll just do it.
That's all anyone has ever done, or been legally allowed to do with replicants specifically, and that carries over to the glance up at the addition.
"But your name is on the title, or the lease, or whatever it ends up being," he points out.
"It has to be," Drake concedes, giving a small, apologetic shrug. "Remember when I told you... sometimes even though you can't have everything, something's better than nothing? It's our understanding. You're paying for it, you're a person and you deserve to be able to close a door between you and the rest of the world. Everybody whose opinion is worth something will know that. And the city has to go through me. I know it's not enough, K, but it's the best we can manage... if you're willing to try it."
"I don't want everything," he says before he can stop himself, and it feels dangerous that it's already out but so much about this does and he's trying anyway.
He is trying. He looks down at Sable, rubs her soft ear so, so carefully between his fingers.
Drake doesn't challenge that, not even by saying he wishes K could have more than this. Because it doesn't matter. He just lets it sit between them for a moment, then grabs the notepad and pen and holds them out to K.
"If it helps you, we can put what we're agreeing to in writing. It won't mean anything to the city either way, but it would to me. Otherwise... is there anything else you'd wanna change with the city filing?"
K is about to shake his head - it doesn't matter to him, he's learned by now from firsthand experience how anything that's going to happen to replicants is going to happen regardless of what's in writing and what's not - but then Drake says that it would mean something to him, and K changes his mind and accepts the items.
In neat, block handwriting, K starts to write down what Drake said - word for word, KD6-3.7 sends Drake Holloway rent, it's KD6-3.7's place, KD6-3.7 is paying for it; handshake agreeing it's private, guaranteed; Drake Holloway wouldn't come in uninvited - as he shakes his head.
"No. It looks good," K answers, glancing at the pile of papers in question, then back to what he's writing without pausing, careful to contort to work around Sable's head in his lap without disturbing her.
It could be said that's true of agreements between humans, too. Contracts are just a type of promise, and people break promises all the time. Maybe they don't mean to, maybe they even do so accidentally, but it happens. All anyone can ever do is their best to keep their word and face the consequences if they don't... but Drake does smile slightly when K takes the notepad and starts listing their private agreements. Even if the other man is just humoring him, that's K trying to make this work.
While he does that Drake grabs a second pen and signs the actual contract, no hesitation in his movements. K says it's good? He's already made up his mind. Then he reaches for the bigger stack of papers on the table, the one that's been face down all this time, and starts separating them.
"I picked these based on my budget," he tells K, "so if yours is really different we might have to look again... but they're still a good starting point."
They're apartment listings, organized mostly by size and price. Drake's set them out in piles that might seem random but besides the obvious criteria of Up or Down, one of the Down piles is available apartments near Jesus. One of the Up piles is focused on places near parks. There are a variety of styles because Drake didn't know what K would like, but every single rental allows pets.
K watches Drake sign from the corner of his eye, and in one way, it's almost a relief; having the decision looming has been a weight K has been carrying since V disappeared in November, and not one he's been able to shift or put down longer than a moment. For better or for worse, a decision has been made.
For better or for worse, K finishes marking down their amendments and moves seamlessly to pulling the contract over to sign himself, such as he can. There's no cursive for numbers.
That leaves him to eye the stacks of papers, setting down both forms of contract neatly on the table, his pen over top of them. He rubs Sable's ears and tips his head to study the topmost entry on each pile.
"I don't need much." He honestly doesn't know what to do with much. "I have to take care of Nibbles, and Mango, and I have a fish tank and a caterpillar. Other than that, the rest isn't important."
Drake nods at the list of animals -- he accounted for everything but the caterpillar, who probably wouldn't have a preference -- then pushes the non-Jesus-adjacent Down pile off to the side.
"The specific apartment might not feel important right now, but it is that you're choosing it. I want this to be your space. Somewhere you like being, somewhere that's comfortable for you. And you're not locked in... if you pick a place and realize you'd prefer something a little different, I don't care about breaking a lease."
Of course K isn't used to choosing things for himself, and Drake is still walking that fine line between encouraging and pushing. He thinks for a moment, glancing towards his own balcony.
"Nibbles likes watching the birds and I think it'd be nice for you to have some sunlight, so maybe the Up. You wanna take this stack and think about it? Take some tours?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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If you haven't, come by when you're ready?
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He isn't wired to just not answer at all, but nothing comes after that - including any sign of him - for quite a while. In fact, it's only an hour before the contract office will close before there's a knock on the door that will open to reveal K bundled up from eyes to shins in his duty coat, hands deep in his pockets.
He'll never be ready, but he promised to try; not Drake, but he doesn't have a good reason for anything less, so here he is. "Hello," he offers, muffled behind his high collar.
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But he doesn't have to call Jesus. Late that afternoon, there's a knock on his door and a very bundled replicant in the hall. Drake takes in the sight of him curiously, wondering if how covered up he's chosen to be means something, then smiles at K and steps aside to let him in.
"Hey. Can I take your coat? Get you a drink?" Drake's just closing the door behind K when the approaching tap-taps of Sable coming to greet her friend reach the foyer and his dog appears, her ears perked and mouth open in a big canine smile. "A lapdog?" he jokes, motioning for Sable to sit before getting attention. "Good girl."
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Part of it, though, is comfort. Drake offers basic hospitality and K steps inside and unzips his coat readily enough, but - as usual - there's something in him that can't help but respond to Sable, smiling and his shoulders relaxing when he sees her.
"Water is good, thank you," he answers, waiting like he's learned to do until Sable has permission to be pet or to approach him, and then crouching to greet her with the traditional ear rubs. "Hello, Sable," he tells her, warm, and then his attention ticks back up to Drake. "Is this... okay? Not a bad time?"
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He gets them each a glass of water and brings them over to the coffee table, where there are several other things waiting... a thick stack of papers, face down and divided with clips. A plate of cookies that look handmade, though the flavors aren't obvious at a glance. And another page resting face up, with a notepad and pen beside it.
"Come sit with me? Both of you."
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He doesn't mind Sable being in his lap, isn't in any danger of being knocked over by her, but he isn't going to stay in the foyer either so he holds her off long enough to stand up again; he keeps a hand in her fur as he moves over and settles where Drake is setting down the water, and stops trying to hold her back as soon as he sits down.
His eyes land on the papers, slide away to the cookies, tick back over a moment later. He was going to say something. He doesn't remember what, so he murmurs something low to Sable, and then straightens up in his seat to look at Drake.
"I'm sure you've figured it out, but I'm not comfortable with this. Not because of you, or anything you've said or done. Just the whole... concept." He says it almost apologetically because it's an explanation, not an excuse. "But I won't ever be if I stay caught in the system, and I know that."
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"I know that, yeah. For what it's worth, I don't think many people ever get comfortable with the concept... but you can be comfortable with your situation, if you sign with someone worth trusting." Still petting Sable, Drake reaches for the contract he's written up. "The only promise I can really make with any of this is to always listen and respect you, and that starts here. If there's a problem, we figure it out together. Read it over, and tell me if there's anything you don't like or want to add."
With that he passes K the paper and tugs the plate a little closer to them.
"No cookies for Sable, but you should try them. Padme's really gotten into baking."
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"Thank you. I will after," he promises, and flips the papers over in his hands to start reading. It doesn't take long - his eyes dart back and forth across the page much faster than a human would, flipping between pages about every fifteen seconds or so until he's down to the end of the last page.
He's not good at this, he thinks. He has no idea how to negotiate for himself, no real way to know how to advocate for something he doesn't expect to be heard, but he tries: "I have my own income. I can pay for... somewhere."
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Hopefully the explanation will make it obvious why he doesn't like putting that in a contract, but he'll let it be K's decision.
"It'd be changing this part here." He indicates a sub-clause under where he's given K the right to work, nestled between that it can be whatever job he likes and that his working doesn't preclude him having an authorized line on Drake's account for purchases. Only vice-versa. "And then this line about housing would be conditional."
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He glances over the places Drake has indicated, rubbing the tip of his thumb over the surface of the paper almost idly.
"How else would you suggest then? I simply pay you directly?"
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That's all anyone has ever done, or been legally allowed to do with replicants specifically, and that carries over to the glance up at the addition.
"But your name is on the title, or the lease, or whatever it ends up being," he points out.
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He is trying. He looks down at Sable, rubs her soft ear so, so carefully between his fingers.
"Okay."
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Drake doesn't challenge that, not even by saying he wishes K could have more than this. Because it doesn't matter. He just lets it sit between them for a moment, then grabs the notepad and pen and holds them out to K.
"If it helps you, we can put what we're agreeing to in writing. It won't mean anything to the city either way, but it would to me. Otherwise... is there anything else you'd wanna change with the city filing?"
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In neat, block handwriting, K starts to write down what Drake said - word for word, KD6-3.7 sends Drake Holloway rent, it's KD6-3.7's place, KD6-3.7 is paying for it; handshake agreeing it's private, guaranteed; Drake Holloway wouldn't come in uninvited - as he shakes his head.
"No. It looks good," K answers, glancing at the pile of papers in question, then back to what he's writing without pausing, careful to contort to work around Sable's head in his lap without disturbing her.
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While he does that Drake grabs a second pen and signs the actual contract, no hesitation in his movements. K says it's good? He's already made up his mind. Then he reaches for the bigger stack of papers on the table, the one that's been face down all this time, and starts separating them.
"I picked these based on my budget," he tells K, "so if yours is really different we might have to look again... but they're still a good starting point."
They're apartment listings, organized mostly by size and price. Drake's set them out in piles that might seem random but besides the obvious criteria of Up or Down, one of the Down piles is available apartments near Jesus. One of the Up piles is focused on places near parks. There are a variety of styles because Drake didn't know what K would like, but every single rental allows pets.
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For better or for worse, K finishes marking down their amendments and moves seamlessly to pulling the contract over to sign himself, such as he can. There's no cursive for numbers.
That leaves him to eye the stacks of papers, setting down both forms of contract neatly on the table, his pen over top of them. He rubs Sable's ears and tips his head to study the topmost entry on each pile.
"I don't need much." He honestly doesn't know what to do with much. "I have to take care of Nibbles, and Mango, and I have a fish tank and a caterpillar. Other than that, the rest isn't important."
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"The specific apartment might not feel important right now, but it is that you're choosing it. I want this to be your space. Somewhere you like being, somewhere that's comfortable for you. And you're not locked in... if you pick a place and realize you'd prefer something a little different, I don't care about breaking a lease."
Of course K isn't used to choosing things for himself, and Drake is still walking that fine line between encouraging and pushing. He thinks for a moment, glancing towards his own balcony.
"Nibbles likes watching the birds and I think it'd be nice for you to have some sunlight, so maybe the Up. You wanna take this stack and think about it? Take some tours?"