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[alittlesweptup]

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!

Comments

[motherofnemesis]

[ 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.

wow thanks dw for failing to give me this notif

[alittlesweptup]

[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.]

rude dw!!

[motherofnemesis]

[ 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. ]

[alittlesweptup]

[ 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. ]

[motherofnemesis]

[ 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. ]

[alittlesweptup]

[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.

[motherofnemesis]

[ 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.

[alittlesweptup]

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.

[motherofnemesis]

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.

[alittlesweptup]

[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).]

[motherofnemesis]

[ ....

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.

[alittlesweptup]

[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.]

[motherofnemesis]

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.

[alittlesweptup]

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.

[motherofnemesis]

[ 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? ]

[alittlesweptup]

Well that's just bollocks. How're you supposed to control something like that? [Charlie snorts irritability, lips curling. He's distinctly unimpressed, but it's not like police he's a stranger to police representing some kind of lesser moral and technical obstacle in his life.

The rest of it though--] Of course. Why wouldn't I be? [It's a genuine question, clearly not fully connecting with what she's actually asking.] Don't go to the gym every damn morning just for the fun of it.

[motherofnemesis]

Better. [ It's harsh for a moment and then she shrugs, does her best to go back to casual and calm.

She watches him for a long moment and then shrugs, heavy and uncertain even as she tries for levity. ] Never had people get in a fight over me.

[alittlesweptup]

[He sniffs, glancing away from her to the exposed wiring as if there's something interesting there to look at and not just a tangle of cord he doesn't really know anything about.] Sounds like you ought to get better people.

[Because throwing punches is literally the easiest part of, what? A friendship?]

[motherofnemesis]

There's a lot better things to get in fights about. [ Survival, for example. Either way, she's okay with that. ]

I don't really have people anyways. Lone wolf or whatever.

[alittlesweptup]

Oh don't be so bloody dramatic. [He sniffs, knocking his knuckles against the wall panel in lieu of her shoulder. It's an automatic, tactile response but he's got enough sense not to aim it her way.]

No man is an island, and all that John Donne stuff.

[But it's a mild kind of chastising, no real heat behind it.]

[motherofnemesis]

[ Yeah, that's probably for the best there. ]

Yeah, well, John Donne can suck it. I've managed fine, shows what he knows.

[alittlesweptup]

Whoa there-- [He holds up a hand. Stop right there, Max.] That's one of the founding English language poets you're trashing right now.

[Yup, that's where he's taking this conversation. Apparently, according to Charlie, honesty hour is officially over.]

[motherofnemesis]

[ Blink. Beat. She's a little taken aback at that. ]

I'm not a poetry person, really.

[alittlesweptup]

[What do you take him for Max? A nescient cave man? Please. Charlie shoots her a sidelong glance, eyebrow cocked. He makes a low, knowing noise.]

I'm not surprised. [It's a mild kind of ribbing, all faux better-than-thou.] I'll bet you spend all your time nose deep in tech manuals while feeling sorry about yourself.

[motherofnemesis]

[ No, but she didn't expect him to get vehement over old English poetry of all things either. Why that? It's just words, right. ]

More into the selfdestruction than the selfpitying, really. [ Facetious, because that's how you hide the truth. Say it as a joke. ] And I find vodka more useful than tech manuals. You like poetry?