Remember Me // Superhero One-on-One // Stalkers Welcome

(Sure)
Nyir's eyes snapped open suddenly. Had she let herself fall asleep? For how long? She knew it wasn't a deep slumber, so she wasn't that concerned about her guard being slightly down, but even slightly was too much for her. She sat up straighter, her eyes on Ior. He was still asleep, sprawled out on the couch, but Nyir had an unnerving feeling that he'd been watching her. Had he been? And for how long?

(Thnmksksksks)

Well… the answer to her worry was "Probably not long" because James was passed out on the couch, his limbs sprawled out comfortably as he snored noisily away, his head tilted away from her with his mouth agape. When he woke up, he was definitely going to have a sore throat, he was snoring that loud. Even without a blanket in bloody clothes, he seemed more than comfortable.

(Oops i wrote him as awake, i'll change it)

Nyir stood up and teleported into the kitchen, moving noiselessly so as not to wake him. She guessed she should offer him breakfast when he woke up, but all she had was sugary pastries. Not the healthiest choice, but definitely her guilty pleasure. She grabbed herself a donut and set about making coffee.

James stirred when he smelled the strong scent of coffee, turning his head to better sniff the air and slowly open his eyes with a small yawn, slowly sitting up to look around the dark apartment.
"Um… hey? Are you here?"

Nyir had been keeping an eye on him while she made the coffee. The advantage of a small, cheap apartment was that the kitchen and the living room were really one medium sized space. "Would you like coffee?"

James jumped at the sound of her voice, turning to oggle at her for a few moments. "Hello! I don't know what that is, but it smells good," He cooed to her, blinking wide-eyed like a child.

"I guess you lost all your common sense along with your memory," Nyir sighed, pouring coffee into two mugs. She returned to the living room, handing him a mug.

James sniffed the black coffee inside the cup and sipped at it, immedately pulling a face.
"Jeez, it's kind of bitter," He commented with slight exasperation. "How can you drink this?"

Oh, right, Nyir always drank her coffee black. She'd forgotten some people prefer it sweet. "Here," she said, walking into the kitchen and then returning to the living room with milk and sugar. "Try adding this."

James opened the carton of milk and tipped it over, but accidentally added way too much, making the coffee a light brown. He didn't seem to mind as he shut the carton again and added a ton of sugar, then handed it back to her.
"Thanks!"

Nyir grimaced at his coffee. She had a major sweet tooth usually, but not when it came to coffee. Coffee was a practical drink, not a sugary, syrupy mess. "Yeah," she replied to his gratitude. She narrowed her eyes at him. He seemed a lot more alert than he was the night before, although the messy hair and the tired eyes didn't really help his case. "Have you remembered anything? Your name? Your family?"

James sipped at the coffee pleasantly and hummed at the taste. Before he lost his memory, he was very fond of sugary drinks, especially soda. But of course James couldn't remember that if be tried.
"Remember? Why do I need to remember that stuff?" He asked, looking up at her with an expression of complete confusion.

"It would help me get rid of you," Nyir said honestly, taking a sip of her own coffee. "I don't really know what to do with you."

James looked down at his lap, still holding his drink steady in his hand. "Oh. You make it sound like you don't want me to be here. Am I some sort of bad guy?"

Nyir started to answer truthfully, but paused. A sinking feeling made its way into her gut. Did she have a morally responsibility as a hero to tell him who he really was, or to teach him to be good? "Uhhh," she started, glancing away. "No, no you're a hero."

James glanced up at her like a child on Christmas, being offered one more big present after many smaller ones.
"Really? What type of good did I do?" He asked sweetly, his eyes wide as he gazed at her with a grin on his face.

"Oh, you did a lot of…rescue missions," she decided. "Rescuing hostages, stopping suicides. The people's hero."

"I sounded like a good person," He observed with a big, goofy smile on his broad face. "You don't seem to like me much, though." His smiled faded a little.

Nyir shrugged lightly. "I don't really like anyone. Bad habit of mine, but no fault of yours." It was becoming increasingly easier to lie.

James blinked a couple times, looking visibly confused. "That doesn't sound right." He tilted his head just a little. "Are you sure? You don't look like you're so convinced?"

"Sure about what?" she said, trying to avoid his question with one of her own. "I'm sure I distrust most people. I can count on one hand the people I trust." That part wasn't a lie.

James rose his eyebrows in visible confusion and just looked down at the couch, his face literally painted in a 'what?'. "Alright… I guess." He took another sip of his coffee, sort of zoning out.

"Don't think too hard, you'll hurt yourself," she mumbled. "Or, if you're going to think, start trying to remember your real name, and maybe someone I could contact for you."

"I don't think you like me too much," He finally concluded after emerging himself in thought. "I don't know my name. I don't even think I have a phone anymore." He shrugged helplessly.

"Did you at one point have a phone?" Nyir lifted an eyebrow. Maybe she could go out to where he'd fallen and look around for it. That is, if it had survived the fall and was in better shape than its owner.

James shrugged like a child, even making the "mm-mm" noise that came with it. In reality, he did have a phone, but there was no way it was still out in the rain and survived that huge fall.

"That's not promising," she sighed, finishing her coffee with one last resigned gulp. "I've decided that until which time you regain your memories," hopefully soon, "then you'll stay here." She hoped she wouldn't live to regret those words.

"Oh, thanks," He responded dully, shuffling awkwardly in place. "I'm sorry I don't remember anything." He ducked his head like an embarrassed child.

"Mmm," she hummed. "It's not like it's your fault you got pushed off a roof." She decided that she'd investigate that as soon as possible. No hero would push a villain off a roof and leave them to die. That meant that a villain had turned on him, or something else had gone wrong. The mystery was suddenly interesting.