exsiliumlogs | Closed

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Date & Time: 10/7, on the moon where time is meaningless
Location: Hallways
Characters: Max Kearney & Charlie Cutter
Summary: Stress test
Warnings: Swearing and ~*~strained friendships~*~

[It comes down to happenstance more than design: he just manages to catch her out of the corner of his eye as she's leaving the cafeteria (everyone's got to eat). As much as part of him prefers to just leave the damn thing be - because their last conversation had gone all of nowhere -, either there's something in the look of Max or he's just feeling guilty (or looking for a fight; it's a toss up) that prompts him to abandon his meal before he's even finished it.

And while it's late - as if time's much of a thing here - and the cafeteria is mostly empty, it still takes him long enough to get across the room. By the time he reaches the corridor beyond, she well out of sight. So Charlie takes his best guess, picks a direction at random, and gets lucky. It's quiet save for the low hum of the station's power cycles which means his voice cuts loudly when he calls out to her.]

Oi! Max!

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I bet you have.

[ She hasn't asked before, because he hasn't pressed before, but in some way - in some way this is a small retaliation for him caring about her, for him adding to the list of reasons she has to care about whether or not she survives. Trust Max to be someone to need to retaliate for caring about her.

But she takes the answer in stride, lifts her shoulders and takes a right, heading for a section of the wall that's open, wires exposed and half gutted. ] Why? Too fast moving for you?

[He moves along after her, taking the corner and the dig easily enough.] No, I'm just rubbish at it. [Simple as that. See? It's not so goddamn hard, now is it?]

This your bit of wiring, I take it?

[ No, it's still hard. It's always going to be hard. Max doesn't know any other way to live life. ] But good at explosions. I happen to like those.

[ Small talk, small talk. She nods, tugs a bundle loose and starts to untangle it carefully. ] There's a short somewhere in this panel. Small thing, but fucking up a lot.

Well. [He throws up a hand, some kind of word of caution imminent as they come to stand over the tangled mess of wiring in the open wall panel.] I wouldn't say good. Tolerable.

[Things have been known to go wrong.] They teach a lot of electrical work to desk jockeys?

Let me know if you want to learn more. [ She is so not interested in words of caution right now, or anything that's personal.

Like that. Fair's fair, but she thought her's was fair payback and now they were even. Apparently he doesn't agree. ] I double majored in electrical engineering and computer science.

Ah. [Well that would do it then, wouldn't it. He's silent for a stretch, watching her work without much use for him - not that he really expected to be much help. Then:]

I didn't go to university. [Because try as hard as she might, he's dead set on making this honesty hour. If she's determined to keep it in the realm of small talk, he'll push that until something folds.]

[ She's doing her best to just work without regard for the fact that he's right there, and her shields are under too much strain these days for her to not pick up at least undercurrents of his mind.

It's not going so well. She keeps flicking him glances out of the corner of her eyes, having to stop and start counting wires again. It's probably best not to let her handle anything sharp right now, it might slip. ] That so. [ It's not the tone of someone who wants this to be honesty hour at all. After a moment she puts down the wrench she'd picked up, sits back on her heels and looks up at him, hands resting on her knees as she considers. She doesn't want honesty hour but she's far too tired for charades. ] What do you want from me?

[Being blunt isn't really the direction he would've guessed this conversation was going to go - because when have they ever done anything but the nonessential small talk thing? They're experts at shooting the shit and bollocks at the rest. So honestly speaking, he doesn't really know what he wants from her. Doesn't really know where this is going either.]

I haven't talked to you in a month. [He's decided petty arguments over the network don't really count.] Catch me up.

[Because she hasn't ever been the most social person, but this is a whole different breed of reclusive. Something must've happened.]

[ She is an expert at shooting the shit. It's just not worth the effort right now. She's very still, watching him still as she considers that question, turns it over and wonders how much she's willing to say.

And then abruptly she turns back to the wiring, shoulders hunched over. ] Went to the UE. Had a fun stay. Came back. [ The barest of shrugs. ] There's nothing to catch up on.

[He may not have been around for any of the shit that went down with the UE, but he's certainly caught wind of it and there's backups of everything on the network thanks to the AI - the kidnapping, the rescue, the utter train wreck that was the retreat to this base. There's a lot of things to be said about Charlie, but being slow on the uptake when it counts isn't usually one of them. He's good at connecting the dots even if he'd rather not.]

Hold on. [Voice low and pitched, a sharp dangerous growl that's meant less for her and more for some nebulous thing he can't get his hands on.] They took you?

[ She flinches from the growl almost imperceptibly, keeps working. It keeps her mind off the actual conversation, which is the only way she's going to say anything. ]

They could improve their guest quarters. [ A beat. ] Yes, they took me.

[Charlie can only tolerate talking around something for so long. And here - like this - he's nearly reached his limit for it.]

What'd they do to you? [It's not a gentle way to phrase that question and he doesn't even soften the tone of his voice when he asks it.]

[ God, she hates people caring about her. It's so - it doesn't work, it doesn't fit into how she sees herself or other people, upsets the structure of how she looks at life. She doesn't want him to care. ]

Nothing. Tests. Prison is mostly just boring, I hope you've avoided it. [ Redirect, shove off. This is getting too personal. ]

[ He has. Well-- mostly.

Charlie catches her shoulder. It's an abrupt, totally physically contact. His fingers there against her skin aren't terribly gentle. ] Are you alright?

[ Because honestly? She doesn't really seem like it. ]

[ Her fingers are like vises around his wrist a moment later, the first step in what would have been an attempt to break it if she didn't stop herself, pry her fingers loose after a moment and drop them, watching the panel rather than him. She doesn't know what to do with people touching her when it's not meant to harm, not really. ]

I've had worse. [ It's not a good answer, but it's the only one she has that's not a flat out lie, and she's always disliked lying to friends. ]

[His wrist's thick with corded muscle, but the pressure from her fingers still hurts like of a son of a bitch. Charlie starts to pull back in the same moment that she lets him go which may be a step back on the physicality scale, but it doesn't keep him from pressing verbally.]

I don't care if you've had worse, Max. I care if you're alright now. [He shakes the ache out of his wrist, frowning.] Just be straight with me for two bloody seconds, would you? For Christ's sake.

[ She's absolutely still for a moment, swearing internally because she hadn't meant to, it had been instinctive, she hadn't - ]

Sorry. I'm really - [ Sorry. God. She lets the wires be, turns around and pushes herself up so that she's standing, supported by the wall a little bit as she tries to sort out what to say. ] I don't have good memories of places you can't get out of, is all. Once we fix this. Once we're off the moon I'll be fine.

It's fine. I've had worse. [Said dismissively enough, though he spends a moment or two alternating between loose fingers and a clenched fist until the ache fade. (Though the wording's right that it could just as easily be a gentle kind of dig at her earlier evasiveness.)]

Look, I-- [He bristles, then forces the proverbial hackles back down. Don't fight with her, he tells himself.] --I get that, alright? And I don't care if you're not keen on slumming it with the rest of us. Just maybe don't fall off the map entirely while you're at it.

Uh huh. [ Just a faint mocking look at that, because the call back isn't missed, perhaps even taken more than he at all intended it to be taken.

She listens for a moment, deflating a bit as she pulls back in on herself, considering. ] It's not - I'm an empath, okay, I can feel everyone. [ Suddenly terribly impatient and tired, wanting there to be more of an explanation than her just being a dick because. ] I don't know what else to do.

[If he's expecting her to come back with something (and it's Max, so he is), that's not it. It gives him pause, makes Charlie rock back on his heels. His mouth goes thin, brow furrowed for a beat then--]

Hold on, you mean like an actual empath-- like a psychic abilities sort of thing? [Because he's known her nearly a year now, and you'd think something like that might've come up before.

(You know, since he'd been completely honest with her up until now).]

[ ....

Fuck. ]

Yes, psychic abilities, I can read your emotions and if I want to I can change them. [ It's almost a push back against his prying, because who does she know who enjoys hearing that? No one. People don't like that concept. ] So. Yeah.

[There's a beat - a long one where the line of his shoulders comes up and then down again, mouth thinning briefly and brow furrowing. He doesn't take a step back, though part of him wants to. Instead Charlie crosses his arms across his chest, jaw briefly tight.]

Have you ever messed about with my head? [It's a flat question, no venom in it whatsoever.]

No. [ It's immediate, flat, somewhere between insulted and understanding of the question, knowing that it's the natural one. ] I don't - I don't use it on friends.

[ Not unless they want her to, or need her to. Not unless it can help something. There are some lines she never wants to cross even if it's been necessary a few times. Just not again. (She says that every time.) ] No, I promise.

Then who gives a shit. [It's out of his mouth before he really even thinks it through. If she's not been pushing his head around, then what's the issue?

Charlie may not be the most adaptable bloke in most situations, but he's living in a different time period - a different dimension - alongside all sorts of weirdness. Psychic abilities are just another punch to roll with.] You could've said something. [A brief pause where something occurs to him, then:] --Hold on, is some wanker giving you trouble over this? Because I can punch their head in if you'd like.

[ That was - genuinely unexpected. She blinks, stays utterly still as she watches him in somewhat wary confusion. It blossoms into an even more confused expression as he continues, because what. ]

Not here. It's illegal back home. [ She pauses, tilts her head a little as she evaluates him. He means it, he's being genuine, and it's confusing as hell. ] Almost no one knows here. You actually mean it, don't you. The punching thing. [ It's not really a question - she already knows he does - but the real question is buried underneath that. Why. Why does it even matter to him if someone's bothering her? ]

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wow thanks dw for failing to give me this notif

rude dw!!

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