[various] "secretly you love this, do you even wanna go free?"

[controlledvariable]

Date & Time: 16th - 27thth; various
Location: all about the moon base
Characters: Steph, Saul, Jesse, Dick, Max Kearney, YOU
Summary: Steph's working against the mutiny and mostly having her trauma buttons pushed + aftermath
Warnings: Claustrophobia, panic attacks, someone's mind being messed with, discussion of sexual assault, violence, death, references to child abuse. I meant what I said about trauma buttons.
Notes: There's an open section for anyone who wants to run into Steph, whatever side they're on (or if they're neutral)! If you'd like something more specific, hit me up and we can work it out.


→ Saul and Jesse; 16th; 0400 hours

[So far, she's had no problems with the teleportation power that Jesse gave her; it's simple to use, all she has to do is imagine where she wants to be, and there she is. It means that as soon as she thinks transporter room and ends up in pitch black darkness, she knows that something has gone very wrong. Her first instinct is to try teleporting out, but she ignores it for the moment, knowing it's better to take stock of the situation before making any rash moves. She breathes in and focuses for a second, feeling the room around her. The air is cramped, stale, which means it's small and poorly ventilated, and there's no light source anywhere.

And now that she's paying attention, she can pick up the sickly smell of very, very old corpses.

It's all downhill from there.

Her fingers scrambled at her belt as she pulls out a torch, turning it on and shining it around the room; it's as small as she expected, three of the four walls smooth, but the final one has what looks like it might have been a door, once, but the metal is warped and twisted almost beyond recognition, and when she roughly shoves her shoulder against it, the thing doesn't even budge. The fact she's alone is only a small comfort, and she can already feel panic starting to rise in her chest.

Now she tries to teleport out, but nothing happens, as if she doesn't have the power at all.

She's trapped.

For a few long moments, she's frozen in fear, breath coming short and shallow as the light from the torch flickers, and she's terrified it's going to run out and leave her in the dark, before she realizes it's flickering because her hand is shaking so badly.]

C'mon, Brown.

[It's barely a mutter, her grip tightening on the torch and her other hand curling into a fist, gloved fingers digging into her palm.

That was a stupid move, because as soon as she's made a fist, she lashes out at the door, as if it might force it open, but all that happens is pain shoots through her knuckles and jars her arm. But she can't keep it together after that; she drops the torch and shoves both hands against the door. There's no metal, suddenly, no cloying smell of decaying bodies, just wood under her hands and the sound of her father shouting at her mom, or at her, muffled through the closet door as she scrambles at the wood and tries to push it open. It doesn't matter that there was never enough room in the closet to get a run up, to stretch her arms out and push on creaking metal, because the memories are so vivid and the panic so sharp that it's all she can see.

She loses track of time, all she can hear is her ragged, panicked breathing and her heartbeat in her ears and the thunk of metal as she tries to force her way out.

It isn't until she takes as much of a run up as she can and barges her shoulder against the door that she snaps out of the panicked haze, and that's only because the pain cuts through it so sharply, along with the sickening sound of her shoulder dislocating.

Between the fear and the pain, it's enough to make tears prick at her eyes, and she punches the door one last time out of sheer anger at how terrified she is, before leaning back against it and sinking to the floor, arm cradled across her chest. She digs the fingers of her other hand against her closed eyelids, trying to fight back tears and panic; that's not going to get her out of this, but she can't focus past that stupid, ingrained fear.

She tries to teleport again, and lets out a strangled sob when it doesn't work.

But while she hasn't calmed down, not by a long shot, if she focuses on the pain in her shoulder she can actually move past the panic, at least enough to start thinking of solutions.

The network is down, but--

There's a muttered string of curses, mostly self-flagellation for being so stupid. She has her communicator in her cowl, and Babs helped her fix it up so that it'll connect to both Babs' communicators, and to Saul's bluetooth earpiece. She should call Babs, but the communicator is part of her suit, which mean it's part of her weapon, so as soon as she remembers it's possible, it starts trying to reach to Saul.

She doesn't even realize she's murmuring please pick up over and over again.]


→OTA; 16th-18th; from 1200 to 1200 hours

[Once she's calmed down from the teleportation misadventure (and had a quick nap, at both Saul and Babs' request), Steph gets to work on fixing this damn problem. It's a little tricky for those first few hours while the gravity is still all over the place, but she adapts well enough. Her first priority is securing the spaceship, because if the Transporter room is out of reach, there's no way she's losing their other only option of getting the hell off this base, should something go wrong. As soon as she's happy with that, she starts on the long list of other problems that need fixing.

The lights and network are still down and the doors aren't under control; the latter two are the real problems, since it's tricky to communicate and get places with those systems offline. The doors don't bother Steph so much, except she's a little more cautious about teleporting places, mostly going places she's sure of, rather than trying anything too tricky and risking ending up trapped again.

Still, she moves around a lot, dropping into the housing wings occasionally to make sure everyone is doing alright, before heading out to do what she can about the technical problems. She's not, well, Babs, but if there's wiring that can be fixed or systems that can be hacked and taken over, she'll be making an effort to manage it, with varying degrees of success. As she goes (before the lights are back online) she sticks emergency work lights to the walls and over any working doors, to help people move through the base; they're from her belt, and the batteries will only last a few hours, but it's better than nothing.

She very rarely takes breaks, popping into the cafeteria long enough to grab something quick and easy to eat, or finding a spot near where Babs and Saul are set up to catch a few minutes of sleep. She's more likely to stop to talk to people, trying to coordinate efforts to get systems back online, or to figure out more of what, exactly, is going on. But her main priority is action, leaving the organization to people who are better at it. This isn't like the zombies, where she was willing to trust other people to hold down the fort, if she needed a break.

She doesn't know who she can trust or not, but she's moving about the base with purpose, and from the snippets of conversation that can be caught as she speaks into the earpiece in her cowl, it's clear she's trying to fix this. And it's clear she's not impressed with the situation, judging by the angry mutters and tension in her posture that never quite seems to leave.]


→Max Kearny; 19th; 0120 hours

[As soon as they've got the doors back online, she gives a curt goodbye to Jaime and Batwoman, then disappears towards the Transporter room. She knows she could likely take them with her, but once she's scoped out the situation she wants to go and get Jesse so he can disable anyone with powers, and she's not sure if there's a limit on how many she can carry.

Anyway, first things first, and that's reappearing in the housing wing a reasonable distance from the Transporter room, since she isn't entirely sure how far the field of... redirection magic extends, and she really doesn't want to end up trapped again. It's little further than she'd like to be, but it gives her a chance to sneak close and check things out before throwing herself into a fight, and hopefully there'll be less guards down this way.

That doesn't mean it won't be guarded at all, but when the only person she sees down the end of the hall is Max, she figures it's something she can handle herself, if this turns bad. Max is good, Steph's seen her fight, but she's good, too. And she's got anger behind her, which is always an advantage, so long as she channels it right.

Her hand goes to her staff, though she doesn't pull it free from her belt just yet.]

Please tell me you haven't thrown your lot in with these idiots.

[She does, actually, like Max. And anger aside, Steph doesn't want to hurt her friends, even when they're being completely fucking stupid.]


→ Dick Grayson + Saul Goodman; 19th; 0145 hours

[Max told her to find somewhere safe to wait this out, and Steph doesn't see any reason not to do it; she has no interest in this fight, even though she's sure she cared about the outcome a few minutes ago. But it doesn't matter, if she's stopped caring, it can't have been that important, so she tucks her staff back onto her belt and teleports back to the Housing wing. It should be safe there, out of the way, and anyway, she's kind of tired (when was the last time she slept?) so going to her room to take a nap doesn't seem like a bad idea.

She starts peeling off the Batgirl suit as she goes, tucking the gloves into her belt and folding the cape and cowl over an arm. The whole thing's heavy, and all that armor and symbolism seems a bit pointless. It really can't all be that important.]


→ Sonya Karimov; 19th; sometime between 0200 and 0230

[Saul tells her to stay put, but he's busy trying to co-ordinate something - she really wasn't paying attention to the details - and she really is kind of tired (and hungry; seriously, when was the last time she slept or ate?) so she decides to go find somewhere to take a nap. Saul might wonder where she's got to, but that doesn't really matter, it's not her problem, and anyway, she doesn't want to deal with someone being so... weird. About her.

It's easy enough to slip away, especially when so many people are heading in the opposite direction, towards the transporter room, since apparently something important is happening in there. Well, she knows what's happening, they're trying to take back the Transporter from the people who decided to have themselves a little mutiny, but none of it really matters. Who cares who's in control of the Transporter? It's not like it's going to change anything.

Someone runs past her, and she turns to watch them, before shaking her head and heading on her way again. At which point she bumps into someone.]

Sorry.

[It's an automatic response, she doesn't really care enough to be sorry, and she's already moving again without really acknowledging whoever it was.]

→ Saul; sometime fuck if I know

[As soon as she leaves Sonya, Steph reappears in her own, empty room. There's no cursory glance around to see if Ellie or Joel or Tess might have been around recently; they're not here, but it doesn't concern her beyond that. No matter how much she should be worride.

The only thing she really thinks is that she can finally get some rest. There's no relief behind it, but her body is exhausted after the past few days of barely sleeping, and it makes sense to her, that she should rest.

With her shoes kicked off and no worries to occupy her thoughts the way they normally do, she's asleep almost instantly.]


→ Ellie; sometime after the 21st

[The first couple of nights after... everything, she can't go back to her room. She knows she should, but all she does is send Ellie a text to let her know that she's going to be staying somewhere else for a while. She needs the familiar comfort of Babs, or Saul, or the feeling of safety that Jesse offers purely by existing and having the powers he does.

No one can do anything like that her again, so long as she's near him.

But she can't avoid her room forever, and she can't avoid Ellie forever; Steph needs to make sure that she's alright, after everything that happened. When she slinks into the room, she's not Batgirl anymore, dressed in tights, a tank top, and a rumpled, bright blue business shirt that looks at least three sizes too big for her. She feels guilty for having been away for so long, even if it's only been a few days, so her voice is a little hesitant when she speaks up.]

Hey, kiddo.

[Please don't be mad.]

→ Peter Rumancek; 25th ; late

[She tells Peter to come meet her in the VR room, and heads there to wait, wanting a few moments alone before she has to be around another person. It gives her time to set up the simulation, choosing something... completely different from anything she's made before.

The Guban plains are cold at night, but the bite of it is welcome, as is the sheer stretch of emptiness as far as the eye can see, interrupted only by sparse scrub and boulders, the sound of a stream in the distance. Last time she was here there were medical tents set up, vehicles parked and people miling about, but right now it's empty except for her.

She brought two glasses along with the bottle of tequila, and she forced herself to focus long enough to make a few sandwiches for them both, so they're not drinking on an empty stomach, and because she's noticed that Peter's been losing weight while on the moon.

She won't start drinking without him, but she does start on one half of a sandwich, picking at it slowly while she waits, trying to find something comforting in the fake night air.]

Comments

Late on the 16th; Cafeteria

[angel_of_death]

[The irritability is not limited to her alone. Coming to partake of the cafeteria’s easy-to-consume supplies as well is one duly irate young man—or boy, depending on how one’s perception is. He’s an unusual sight—not just for the mixed signals his attire sends but also because of the method he has chosen to carry around items. Not owning a proper bag and finding a box inconvenient to carry in light of the gravity situation, Walter has butchered the extra pillow case and set of sheets in his room to construct a makeshift sack to carry things in.

The things he carries are presently his most precious items. But given how the young woman seems to be talking to herself and yet not to herself, Walter quickly surmises that he just might not be the only one in possession of such articles— which is why, in the middle of viciously tearing open the wrapper of an energy bar, he suddenly stops.

He hadn’t been paying attention before, having been caught up in the sea of rage drowning his mind and doing his utmost not to simply just start thrashing and brutalizing others to find out who was allied with the ones ultimately responsible for one of his own getting stranded on a supply run. But he’s paying attention now.]

...What are you up to?

[controlledvariable]

[It's probably fair for him to be a bit suspicious, considering she's unscrewed a panel from the wall, has a wire stripper held between her teeth and is fussing with the wiring inside the wall.

She heard Walter come into the room, had cast him a glance and got back to work when he didn't bother her straight away, but now that he's addressing her she looks back up. Muttering a quite Hold on, O before she speaks to Walter.]

Trying to get us some damn lights in here.

[There's a couple of emergency work lights stuck around the cafeteria, thanks to her belt, but having real lighting would be a lot more useful.]

[angel_of_death]

[Low light makes things more difficult to see for a lot of people, but Walter is used to low light. It comes with the territory of hunting vampires at night with a blackout ordinance in effect. Still, that doesn't mean that others are as used to poor lighting conditions as he is, so when Stephanie states her intent to fix the lighting situation and he catches a glimpse of the wire strippers, Walter moves and makes sure his shadow isn't falling anywhere near where she is working.]

Good to know. How badly did they fuck up the wiring?

why hello there

[motherofnemesis]

[ She's been watching, just making sure nobody makes a move somewhere in this area because it's one of the places Max is fairly certain would be her own first plan of attack. But when Steph comes up there's a quiet push forwards from the wall she'd been leaning on, her eyebrows raised. ]

Why? Are the other idiots nicer ones?

[ It's mocking, more than a little, because Max is tired and angry and she just wants things to get fixed and to be not here. (There are other ways. She's thought of them. She just has enough endurance left to try for the smarter ways first.) ]

oh boy C8

[controlledvariable]

[The tone grates, but for now she just rolls her eyes.]

No, they're not idiots.

[She gets the reasoning behind this, she does, it's just that she thinks it's a really fucking terrible way to go about it, and that even if they "win" it'll be pointless as soon as Exsilium is fixed.]

Just let me through, Max, we don't have to make a big deal out of this.

oh boy indeed

[motherofnemesis]

Really? You could have fooled me.

[ Because personally she thinks almost everyone on either side is an idiot right now, and she's including herself in that. Nobody's going to be coming out of this one with a clean face. ]

You're not getting through, Steph. Just go. [ There's a slight shift in how she's standing that Steph will notice, the subtle motions of someone setting their body ready for a fight. She doesn't want to hurt Steph, likes the girl pretty well and understands her fighting spirit well. But Max has chosen a cause, and she's not inclined to let it go that easily. ] I really don't want to fight you.

16th;

[5055034455]

[Saul's awake. He was up when the network went down, literally up when the gravity control was lost, then floated over to shake Wayne out of sleep so they could spend the next half an hour in a panic together while Mike hissed and clung to the mattress with her claws.

He didn't think to call Steph because he forgot he could.

So when he hears something come crackling over his earpiece as it floats in an orbit around the room, he makes a frantic grab for it and presses it hard against his ear, listening.]

Steph?

[He sounds worried already.]

[controlledvariable]

[She should be relieved to hear his voice, but somehow it doesn't really help.]

Fuck, Saul-- [it sounds more like a sob than words, and she has to press her hand over her mouth to try to force herself to breathe for a second and regain some semblance of calm.] I can't get out.

[Some part of her realizes that's not actually helpful, but it's the best she can do in the circumstances.]

[5055034455]

[There's another voice in the background — Wayne's — but it's cut off by a harsh shh! from Saul.

He has to take a breath to steady himself, too, before he can respond.

What the fuck is going on?]

Out of where? Steph, where are you?

bitter tears

[pixieboots]

[ By the fourth day the feeling is starting to filter in at last: that he’s desperate and scared, for everyone they’d done this to save. That he needs someone and he needs them now – someone who’s not a direct contact, someone he can talk this out with so he’ll know what he’s supposed to do now to fix this.

And for a hundred reasons he knows that’s not Steph. She’s chosen a side already, and there’s no chance in those hundred that she’ll listen to him. Steph doesn’t believe in him, and maybe she never did.

But she’s still Steph. And it’s still Steph who’d made him a new mask and pretended it wasn’t his fault that the old one went missing. It’s still Steph who’d known about Zitka, when no one else but Bruce has ever cared. She’s still his sister, and that’s still a word he doesn’t want to let go of now that she’s used it first.

And it’s Steph that he’s stuck with, which is the decision he lands on when he rounds a corner and sees her up ahead in the hallway. Now is his chance. Whether she hates him forever or not, it could be his only chance to save a few hundred lives. ]

Batgirl! [ Getting her attention is always the easy part, so he breaks into a run and raises a hand for her to see when she turns around. He’s safe. He’s friendly.

And that’s when he sees the cape draped over her arm. ] Hey, what- [ She... sure is disrobing in the hallway. And it sure does freeze him in his tracks. ] -what happened? Are you okay?

crying about it already

[controlledvariable]

[It takes her loner than it should to turn around; it's not that she didn't register someone was talking to her, it just isn't important. Except they keep talking, so she stops and turns around.

(She was only planning to take the gloves and cape off in the hall, the rest can wait until she's in her room).

If she's feeling any particular way about seeing him, it doesn't show, her expression staying neutral.]

I'm not hurt.

[It makes sense to reassure him, there's no need to worry anyone, even if she's not sure why he's worried in the first place.]

Afternoon of the 17th; cafeteria

[lar]

[ When she's not at the Infirmary, when she's not looking for whoever did this, when she's not angrily trying to hold back the impulse to put a whole through several walls in the base, Ella is chilling in the cafeteria. She knows she'll eventually find her way to the heart of this all; maybe it's her new thing, the one that she got back home. That crazy certainty of some things yet to happen. It's not a hunch, but it's as if she suddenly remembered something she always knew.

Just like she knew she would die, Ella felt certain she was going to get to the bottom of this. It was simply a matter of time, and it was as maddening as it could get, so chilling in the cafeteria was it. It was quieter than usual, which was good, but you could still hear some whispers, eavesdrop some gossip, follow some leads.

She was also making sure there was no shortage of super hot, super charged coffee available, even if she wasn't a fan of the thing herself. ]

Now you, you look like you could use a coffee. Or a bed, but chances are you'll take the coffee.

[ That much she has learned about Stephanie Brown. ]

[controlledvariable]

[She's had about an hour of sleep since this whole thing started, so Ella isn't far off that estimation, especially when he's been staring blankly into the fridge for about a minute.

She needs food, she just can't work out what.

Coffee is a kind of food, right?]

Yeah, I-- yeah.

[Oh so eloquent. She's just going to get a mug and fill it with that super charged coffee before sliding into a seat across from Ella.

She's seen Ella discussing things with Saul, so she's pretty sure she isn't with the mutineers.]

[vaccination]

[It's bad. It's terribly bad, because there was a revolt or something, and Tess was in it. Ellie had been so angry. And then--Tess was gone. Just gone. The network confirmed as much, and so Ellie and Joel were left to collect themselves in whatever way they could manage. Given the emotional capacity of the two, it wasn't pretty. Steph's text had been one less thing on Ellie's shoulders, because she was going to ask her to crash somewhere else for a while anyway. Joel needed his space. Ellie was going to be in it, of course, but she didn't want him to feel like he needed to keep it together for Stephanie's sake.

Ellie's face down in Joel's bunk when Steph enters, cheek pressed into his pillow. Any tears are long gone. Now there's just... a hole. A hole that was there before, but got ripped open anew. It's a void that hurts, but she knows Joel is hurting so much more.

And Ellie knows that it's something she can't entirely fix, so she lets Joel wander off on his own for a while. The last thing she wants to do is stress him out by watching him like a hawk.]

Hey.

[Steph's in luck. She doesn't have it in her to be mad at anyone right now.]

[controlledvariable]

[Even the way she feels right now, it's instantly obvious that something is wrong, and any concerns about Ellie being mad at her fly right out the window.]

What happened?

[The worry is obvious in her voice, as she carefully approaches, taking a seat just on the edge of Joel's bed.]

[legal_eagle]

[Sonya was born in the Bronx and grew up in the Bronx and attended school in Brooklyn and worked in Manhattan. If she got fussed every time someone bumped into her, she'd spend her entire life fussed. Only thing she does is reach down (the gesture automatic) to touch her inside pocket to make sure her emergency money is there (still always tucked away, even though money isn't worth anything here). Then she looks up and says - ]

Hey -

[Because she recognizes who bumped her. And Sofiya Karimov is, of course, a stone bitch, doesn't give a fuck, et cetera et cetera, but she still wants to make sure the kid's doing okay with all this. So she reaches out, plucks at the kid's sleeve - ]

How's it going?

why are all her icons so expressive

[controlledvariable]

[Oh, that's - Sonya touching her.

It'd be too much trouble to keep walking, Sonya would probably make a big deal out of it, so Steph stops and turns a little, just enough to look at the other woman.

She doesn't answer, because she doesn't know how, but she does offer a shrug, so ... there's that.]

afternoon of the 17th; cafeteria

[peeta_bread]

[Peeta is so confused by all this. He's managed to hear snippets of conversation, whatever's been on the network. He's been staying in his room mostly, but he makes his way to the cafeteria now, scared and hungry. He's happy to see someone he recognizes, so he goes over to Steph.] Hey, um... ma'am?

[controlledvariable]

[Did he just....???

That's enough to take some of the edge off her anger, if only because she's too busy being amused.

She finishes chewing the bite of sandwich she just took before answering.]

Just Steph is fine. You okay, Peeta?

???/;

[5055034455]

[As soon as he's finished talking to Sonya, Saul heads for Steph's room. He just hopes —

The door's unlocked.

And there she is, asleep.

It's a relief in more ways than one; he sighs quietly to himself at the sight of her, happy that she's here and safe. More than that, though, he's happy she's resting. Maybe it'll help. Maybe she'll wake up and feel better. Maybe she'll love him again.

Mostly, he's just glad she's asleep because it means they don't have to talk and she doesn't have to look at him with that disinterested stare and —

He catches himself before that train of thought skips completely off the rails. He's too tired for this; the exhaustion's practically weighing him down, so much so that he all but falls into the bed opposite Steph's. He doesn't care whose it is. It's there, it's comfortable, and he finally has the opportunity to doze off to the sound of her breathing again, so he's going to take it.

In the space between consciousness and sleep, he might even be able to convince himself that none of this ever happened.]

\8D/

[controlledvariable]

[If she'd been thinking about the fact her emotions are, eventually, going to come back, she would have realized that sleeping was a bad idea.

When what Max did starts to wears off, Steph is in the middle of a dream, and it twists unpleasantly as everything starts to come back in bits and pieces, some emotions resurfacing stronger for moments, sharper after they'd been cut off. Her dreams turn messy and painful, and waking up is even worse.

Her breath is a ragged gasp as she starts awake, all but tumbling out of bed and landing in a crouch, hand going to a staff that isn't there, because fear and panic and everything is ripping through her, and it's too much.]

early early on the 24th;

[5055034455]

[Saul comes bearing good news, but it does little to relax him; he's too on edge, tense all over, a rubber band pulled so taught that it's either going to break or take an eye out. Usually, when he sees Stephanie, some of that tension eases away—but not this time. It's made worse when he looks at her, throat tightening with guilt.

He should've told her.

How many apologies has he issued today? How many more will he add, before the day's end, to the tally of times he's apologized to her? He's pretty sure he's running out of both chalk and wall space.

Their surroundings force him to pause for a moment, gaze drifting around what looks an awful lot like a living room. He hasn't seen this place before, but Steph looks comfortable enough in here—if a little worried—so he figures it must be somewhere familiar to her. That'll make it better, maybe.

Or maybe not.

The past few days have trained him well; he dares not entertain optimism anymore. It feels so melodramatic to think that way, but with the way things are going, Saul can't be sure they're not all on some soap opera.

(If only.)

After he's gotten his bearings, he positions himself opposite her. At first, his gaze settles somewhere near her shoulder, but he forces himself to drag his attention up to her blue, blue eyes, his own looking dull thanks to the shadows underneath.]

Hey.

[He could kick himself. Hey. Is that the best he can do?]

too early probably

[controlledvariable]

[She's worried.

Which isn't a new thing for her, the past few days, but this is a different sort of concern, not just worrying about someone adding to the giant pile of fuck ups that have already happened. Because it's Saul, and they need to talk, and those are rarely good words.

It's not like she's expecting him to break up with her or anything, but just - considering how everything's been going lately, she can't imagine he wants to talk about anything good.

So after making sure someone was keeping an eye on Dick for the time being, she'd headed to the VR room for two simple reasons. One, if she keeps look at the walls of the base she's going to start screaming and never stop. And two, she wants something familiar, comforting, which is why she's curled up on her battered couch, a mug of tea in her hands (she brought it from the cafeteria, there's a thermos on the coffee table and a second mug if Saul wants some).

She looks up when she hears him enter, watching him take a seat and reaching out automatically once he's settled, just to take his hand, something simple.

The greeting gets a small, tired smile.]

Hey. I'd ask how you're doing, but...

[a shrug;

She already knows the answer.]

25th ; late

[werewolfing]

[peter has no idea what to expect when he opens the door to the vr, and until he opens the door he doesn't really care, either. but then he inhales crisp night air, which is somehow different than the stale shill of the rest of the base, and all that's around him is sky and the flat of scrubland, and for a moment it's like something in him stretches and wakes up. it's only a moment, but it's something.

he doesn't have any trouble finding steph, since she's more or less the only thing out there. he doesn't bother to say anything as he approaches, figuring that the sound of his boots scuffing the ground is good enough to announce his presence. the sight of sandwiches makes him huff an amused breath as he settles down beside her, and he bumps her shoulder with his shoulder as he takes a sandwich. he's not hungry, but he's barely eaten lately, and that's no foundation for tequila.]

Good choice.

[controlledvariable]

[The sound is more than enough; she looks up when he gets close, offering a tired, sad sort of smile, because it's the best she can do in the circumstances.]

The sandwiches or the view?

[She knows what he means, but it's easier to be a little bit playful instead of thinking about... everything.]