exsiliumlogs | (closed) don't get yourself into mischief

Entry tags:

(closed) don't get yourself into mischief

Date & Time: August 2nd, 3313, Unspecified (likely morning)
Location: Initiative Hospital
Characters: Caesar S. & Collette
Summary: Collette wakes up three days post her last mission; Caesar's so ecstatic he's positively irritated.
Warnings: Teenage in-sensibilities?

( The last thing she recalled was the adrenaline that carried her through demorphing, and the sight of her hand elongating out of the fur of a coyote's paw. Those three days inbetween might as well not have existed but for how she felt less totally exhausted now than she did when she'd stumbled down off the Transport Pad with Gamora.

Awareness came to her slowly, along with the lights and niggling familiarity of the situation. Before thought can coalesce into coherence, a deeper thread of fright jolts through her stomach, leaving her nauseated and gasping as she startles herself fully awake, one hand jamming down against the hospital bed to no effect, fingers curling into the blanket, the other being forcibly pulled toward her face with the IV still attached.

Her eyes are wide and she's breathing too fast without speaking as she surveys what she finds: perfect human flesh. Just a palm of a hand, and five nails, as her finger curl inwards. She's fine.

Collette closes her eyes and breathes out, a sigh of relief and a lowering of heartrate as tracked on the machines for such things. She's herself. She opens her eyes, looking past the hand still held over her chest. Where is she?

She'd ask, but it comes out as a dry croak. The cotton dryness of her mouth registers afterward, bittersweet and unwelcome in its familiarity. What happened? )

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( If that just doesn't make her jaw drop. Or close to it -- a startled squeaking protest is her attempt at saying what paired with her grabbing for the railing and pulling herself up into a sitting position.

It's not the best plan, leaving her head swimming and starting to black her out, not to mention showing her heart rate spiking up from resting to something much faster. At least it steadies out there. )

You're sure?

( Three days? She couldn't remember a time where she'd been exhausted like that. Sure, when she was sick, time blurred together, but it wasn't the same!

But he doesn't bother lying on things like this -- unless he's teasing. Is he teasing? Blinking away the blackness, Collette moves her head to slowly focus on Caesar, trying to read any sense of humor from him right then. It's a joke. Maybe he's mad or something, or -- worried or irritated or tired or who knows what, but he has to be joking. )

[ Then she has to go and do that! She shouldn't be making sudden movements at all. He's up after she does that, despite how he'd rather not be up and moving around at all yet. ]

Stop that. Lay back down before you pass out again. [ He says as he steps over to the bedside. ] Of course I'm sure. I spent most of two of them trying to figure out where you'd even gotten to.

( She stubbornly refuses, hands going white-knuckled with the force of her grip on the bedside. )

Two days? ( A dry swallow and a look of confusion. She'd think she should feel worse or something if she'd been out in the alley for two days. Catch a cold, something sensible. Breathing in deep, she feels no rattle in her chest. She can even breathe easily. )

Then who -- found me?

Stephanie didn't mention his name.

[ The way he says that might imply that's lucky for the person who she wouldn't put a name to. He isn't particularly pleased with any of this, but especially not that part! ]

Some idiot thought he was helping by dragging you back to the apartments and leaving you to rest somewhere indoors. Somehow it never crossed his mind people might be looking for you...

Some...

( She's more surprised by Caesar's tone than even what he's saying. Steph had found her, but someone else had first? They'd pulled her off the streets. That much was good, she thinks, somewhere in the foggy state of mind she's swirling around in. )

But... Did you ask for me on the network?

[ Sometimes something is just too irritating to not be a little upset over. Useless people getting in his way, even if Stan hadn't meant to, is definitely one of those somethings.

Had there been more people around, he may have not said it in such a way, that way that makes it too obvious what he might really be thinking, but right now?

It doesn't seem that important. ]

Er... No. [ Though the irritation over the mysterious not-helper is short-lived, thanks to that question. ] I only contacted a few people to start the search. Maybe he would have answered if I had, but I didn't know.

Ah. Yeah.

( She watches him, blinking slowly and breathing evenly. The reports back from the machine reading her heart rate slow steady out, though it's not close to a resting rate.

She relaxes her grip on the sideboard some, confusion leaving her face. She looks neutral for a moment; then her eyes fall, and she smiles, small but genuine, freaked out on a level that had nothing to do with Caesar and everything to do with three days. )

Hey, C? ( It's easier still not to speak too much, mouth feeling thick and cottony and not quite right. Water would be really great, but it's not what she asks for. ) Can I get a hug?

( She doesn't look up when she asks. It's a little embarrassing, and she doesn't want to let too much show easily on her face if he decides to say no. )

Edited 2013-08-04 06:24 (UTC)

[ Why does she have to keep calling him C...?

But not the time. Right. Wow, there is one long awkward moment where he has to actually consider what she's asking for. A hug? From him? Of course, from him, as there isn't anyone else around. ]

But... [ The height difference between someone in a bed and someone standing! He's going to have to bend over to do that! He doesn't finish that, though. Complaining doesn't actually change anything, as much as he does it. ] ...sure.

[ Yeah, okay, fine, he'll lean over and offer a hug. ]

( She fights off fidgeting with her hands during the awkward silence, determinedly examining her knuckles. One, two, three, four, five knuckles on her right hand, which was good, that means they're all accounted for.

"But" has her looking up in spite of herself. Her hands go still, waiting for the rest of whatever will follow. Only when it's a sure and he leans over, she lets go of the side of her bed and snakes her arms around him, tucking her head in toward his chest. )

'm sorry to make you worry.

( ... comes out muffled. The contact is reassuring, and left to her own devices, she'll be reluctant to let go. He smells familiar; he's warm; and he's a sight more reassuring by existing than being left alone with the thought things have gotten so far past her realm of knowledge that working herself to the bone takes her out of the game for three days straight. It's scary, not knowing where that time went. )

Edited (wait i lied now there) 2013-08-04 07:03 (UTC)

[ And he does leave her to her own devices for the moment, trying to figure out the correct 'just right' length of time that someone is supposed to let hugs go on. He doesn't know. When does it start getting awkward?

But what if it was awkward from the get go?!

Well, until he figures that out, he'll rest his chin on her head as it's tucked against his chest. ]

Just don't do that again. [ What he is sure of, at least, is that this isn't going to get a dismissive 'it's fine'. ] You told me you couldn't manage your shapeshifting. You should have said something, told them they couldn't send you.

I did.

( That's (almost) the scary part. It's part of why she doesn't let go. She hadn't just said yes and flashed a smile, gone to hell with it and pushed on past what she felt she could handle. )

I said no.

[ So much for hoping the days of the Initiative acting like that were done with. ]

They made you go anyway?

Name the missions where they sent me back with a chair.

( Pointing out a fact. It's not the first or only time they've been unreasonable. What's worse is that listening to them had started making sense.

That had been the scary part. She'd said no, and then in listening, she'd been convinced enough that it'd be okay. It'd made sense. Wait for a train, figure out a way to unload cargo. It should have been easy, they said, and she's done it before, hasn't she? They're all working toward the same goal. Aren't they?

Aren't they? )

Anyone else would have been fine. I was looking better...

( But not recovered. Not with the hollows around her eyes still; how she'd asked a network to find him when he'd gone missing instead of looking herself. Three days of playing the part of Sleeping Beauty or Rip Van Winkle and she's starting to realize that maybe people really have no idea about limits. )

But you could actually shift those times.

[ The mission that stands out most in his mind is the one where they did have a chair, only he'd been the one in it. Is that how she feels when they do that? Even with her animal forms available? Hopelessly powerless, frightened? Angry?

It isn't a position he likes to imagine ever being in again, admittedly.

Still, if he stops and considers if they had done that to a girl like her with no such powers... ]

Looking better doesn't mean better. [ He finally tries pulling himself out of the hug, back beginning to complain about this position. ] Next time they try to make you do anything you don't want to do, get someone to help you deal with them.

[ And then, he adds, as a grumble: ]

So much for hoping they'd stop treating people this way after that deal we made.

Does that make it okay?

( As he shifts and moves away, she lets go, albiet reluctant. She rubs at her cheeks, trying to nod and listen and grasp just what happened the last few days. )

Yeah, I know. I will. ( Back to watching the bed rather than looking his way. She tries to salavage soemthing out of it: )

I guess it's almost nice they think I'm useful.

( But the reason that's telling doesn't really help. )

No, it doesn't.

[ Ultimately, if she thinks it isn't okay, then it really isn't, regardless of the excuses for it. ]

Not really. You can find someone useful and respect them at the same time. This isn't the same, not by a long shot. I'm going to file a complain with those so-called liaisons of ours when I get a chance, if that's alright with you...

( She stops rubbing her face, thinking about what he's saying. She's not... she just... Collette drags her hands down her face, fingers pressing into her cheeks. )

It'd be for everybody, right? It's not just because of me.

( She doesn't want that. She wants to talk to Steph and figure out who found her and thank him, whoever he is, and then work on making up for what another three days had lost. She doesn't want to end up the poster child for someone else's agenda. It's why she doesn't complain. It's why she's only saying to Caesar now that it bothers her that she's never given access to her legs, no matter how roundabout that admission. She trusts him, and that he'll understand what it means to her. She hopes he does. )

My name wouldn't be attached?

Considering I'd be against forcing anyone else off on missions they don't or can't handle...

[ Of course it would be. That's something he thought would be a no-brainer, but he guesses reassurances are nice to have. Names, though, he frowns for a moment, thinking. More like recalling something, actually, but same thing. ]

The lawyer already knows it'd be about you, but I can still ask for names to be left out.

Edited 2013-08-07 00:12 (UTC)

That'd be nice, please.

( She ends up flopping back, exhaling sharply with a whoof of air. )

Do you have any gum?

I don't. [ Alas, he is not a gum carrier, but he does motion towards the bathroom. ] But there are a few glasses in the room. Do you want some water?

Yes, please.

( she smiles, the haze coming back in without something clear to focus on. Oh. She can focus on the dryness. That'll do. )

I'm pretty dry.

Considering you haven't had anything to drink for three days, I could have guessed that.

[ It really is a repeat of her last, far too recent stay in the hospital. He gets up to grab a glass and go fill it with water, then bring it back to hand to her, almost exactly like all those other times. ]

So should I be expecting to be doing this a lot?

( the question maeks her flush, cheeks burning even as she averts her gaze and fumbles the glass he's brought her. her laughter is dry and clipped, ending in a dry cough, and despite the water sloshed onto her front from her apparent clumsiness, she still has to drink from the glass before she has a reply. her face might come up, but her eyes close; no, he shouldn't be.

lowering the glass to rest on her lap, she uses the back of one hand to wipe across her mouth, eyes locked on the glass. she smiles; she sounds a little better as she teases: )

What, bring me water? A girl's gotta drink, C, it might be more persistent than you think!

( plucking at the material of her gown, her smile flickers, then settles into something less pronounced. she holds the fabric away from her chest. )

[ Apparently not the right thing to ask...

Caesar doesn't answer immediately, since he's gone back to the bathroom to grab any towel or washcloth that might be in there. When he returns again, he takes a seat on the edge of the bed and offers it to her. ]

You know what I meant, Collette. It isn't going to change anything, I just don't want to be surprised every time this happens.

( it's not a serious conversation (serious to her, at least) she's really thought about having. it makes sense, now that it's happening, and when she accepts the washcloth, though there's no great absorbency happening. she gives it a cursory run over her chest, then makes herself look up and meet his gaze.

this makes her uncomfortable, but her tone slides back into factual and unconcerned. it's an easier place to speak from, dealing with the realities of her life as she knows them. )

If I get really sick, yes. My immune system -- um. Did you ever figure out what those were, back in June? ( she pauses, then shakes her head, giving him room to answer but not really room to expand on an answer. ) It doesn't matter, it's just kind of a bummer that if I do manage to get sick, and I get really sick, I need time and help to get better. You already know getting all the way better takes time, but that's how it is for everything like... that, with me.

I get sick a lot less! Morphing kind of helps with that, and with keeping me out of this place. So it's better, but the limits I knew for being me the last fifteen years are different when you throw morphing in. I don't... know, exactly, what those limits are.

( it's in that admission that she starts sounding unsure. )

Like why was it easier for me to keep up doing a lot worse when we were in the United Earth, but I can't recover or work the same now even being really careful as I could then before June.

( which is frustrating, and she doesn't like it at all, because she doesn't know what to do with it. )

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