capeandcowllogs | It's the season of scars and of wounds in the heart / Of feeling the full weight of our burdens

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It's the season of scars and of wounds in the heart / Of feeling the full weight of our burdens

WHO Two friends (and a party crasher)
WHAT Trying to make it through the holidays
WHERE At Roxanne's house
WHEN Christmas Day.
NOTES None.
WARNINGS None.

The Ritchi house was remarkably still. She had, out of habit, gone to Midnight Mass at a local church, though her heart wasn't in it -- she at least tried. She'd fallen out of faithful habits years ago, but she hadn't wanted to be alone in her house -- especially after she'd sent the Brainbots to find their 'daddy' and stay with him. One of them kept coming back, for whatever reason, but she didn't-- feel right, trying to shoo it off or punish it. So it kept her company as the night faded into dawn once she'd come home; she had fallen asleep on her couch with it curled up next to her like some bizarre, glowing cat and risen the next day sore and unrested.

Treating herself to a hot bath to try and reach some semblance of 'human', Roxanne emerged less sore and more awake, if still troubled. She turned off her communicator, set aside everything that wasn't work related, and let the radio carole away for her as she decided that today she would remain in her comfiest of pajamas, drink eggnog -- eventually with Rum Added -- and resolve not to think about anything but her work and ignore the absence of friends and family. It was old habit, easy to fall into -- not like she hadn't spent several Christmases alone-- when she wasn't tied to a rocket sled, or... any other number of contraptions.

The morning turned into afternoon, the snow came down and Roxanne could not bring herself to do anything except notate CPS reports and listening to whatever came over the radio.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Well, something must've changed that made him decide he wanted to be that person even after you broke up with him. Any idea what that was?" Because that seems like the best way to get him to come around.

"I don't know. Not for sure. I mean, I -- I asked to come and help me fight Titan -- Hal -- and he told me no and left with... no real doubt I was on. I know he saw the television broadcast, but..."

She shakes her head. There's something missing. Could it have been three simple words? I need you --

No.

That's just silly.

She couldn't have been the deciding factor in a guy changing his entire life around.

Right?

He wasn't exactly certain if what he was doing was the correct thing to do. Situations like this called for delicacy and Megamind wasn't exactly one for diplomacy.

Still - even for one as socially inept as Megamind, he knew he'd screwed up big time.

So he'd used a brainbot to track her down, traitorous beings that they seemed to be these days. He'd followed it to her door, and stood before it with some assortment of flowers that had rather questionable origins, and tapped twice on her door.

Roxanne freezes. There's a moment of stillness, where she just looks at Andromeda, and then sighs. "That's either Megamind or Hal. I don't know anybody else who'd come over on Christmas day."

Hal, because he's tactless. Megamind because... well.

She looks at her drink, sighs, and pushes it aside, getting to her feet. "If it's Hal, this could get very ugly," she says as a warming, but makes her way to the window and peeks out, before going to the door and opening it.

"...Happy Christmas, Megamind," she greets her visitor. At least Andromeda knows not to start casting spells, right?

It's a good thing that it's Megamind, because Andromeda is a few feet behind Roxanne with a fully-raised wand ready to hex whoever decides to come through the door like a bloody idiot.

...well. She lets her wand drop just a little, but doesn't move to put it away completely. He still declared himself a supervillain, but he did bring flowers...

This man was clearly a walking contradiction.

The door is pulled open and he's greeted and, stunned, he just stands there like a fool. He wasn't expecting anyone else to be there, but he should have because this is Roxanne and of course she would have company on Christmas.

He shoves the flowers in her direction, not waiting to see if she actually manages to grasp them.

"Ah -- here. I didn't realize you had company. I'll...be leaving."

Oh, he is not getting out of this that easily. Andromeda slithers her way around Roxanne while summoning her jacket from the nearest hook, already pulling on one arm by the time she starts to push past Megamind.

"No, no -- I'm just on my way out, actually. Turkey to baste and potatoes to smash, that kind of thing. Roxanne, dear, keep the bottle -- and Megamind. Keep in mind that if you do anything stupid to hurt Roxanne, I might have to do something nasty to you. Happy Christmas!"

Once she's cleared the threshold of the door, she apparates with the usual click-pop.

It's a sudden flurry of -- everything, really. She's catching flowers and trying to catch Megamind's hand in all of this, and there goes Andromeda--who is a good and dear friend but...

"Yeah, thanks, Mom--" she breathes, vaguely annoyed. "I'm sorry. She's-- ah-- just trying to watch out for me. I hear you two spoke. Ah-- come in. Please?"

He's frozen solid when she's catching at his hand and what was that abominable woman saying about hurting her - he looks offended at the insinuation, though he supposes that inadvertently he has hurt her though there's a flash of blatant irritation mixed in there too because really who gives a damn about his feelings in this?

"I--"

He's baffled as to what to say, and there's nothing else he can do but go in.

Edited 2011-12-28 04:32 (UTC)

She carefully shifts the flowers to one arm and -- oh god he just feels so bad and she had no watch on! Already her eyes are starting to go green as his, and she has to release his hand and severe the contact -- it's just too intense that way.

"Let me get these in some water..." and have the good sense not to ask about their origins, okay. She heads toward the kitchen, though she keeps glancing back to make sure he hasn't fled.

He misses that only because he's still distracted by the fact that woman had a stick in her hand and brandished it like a weapon - he's seen some strange things in his day but that was certainly a new one.

"Of...of course," he mutters, dropping his hand by his side, relieved that she'd let him go.

He's tempted to flee. The longer he stays here, the longer that he's thinking maybe this is a bad idea.

The flowers? Put in a vase in record time. She then goes to her purse, and fetches something from it -- a black watch, in a very familiar design. She twists the face in a familiar motion, and locks it in place, before she relaxes. Right. Alone in her head.

Right. Time to brave this conversation.

"Things have-- probably been really confusing for you," she says, as she turns back, feeling awkward there in her jammies and a robe, her fuzzy pink slippers between her feet and the hardwood floors. "Is there -- you must have questions."

He came for answers, right? And... flowers.

He snorts.

"Confusing? That's putting it a bit mildly, don't you think?" Confusing, soul crushing...however you want to label it, Roxanne.

"But if you insist on slapping such an...inappropriate label as that on it, then by all means. We'll say the past twenty something hours have been confusing."

And, ha. Answers. Answers to questions that he had millions of - and no idea where to really start.

"Yeah. I'm trying to reign in the purple prose these days," she offers a lame quip in return, smile strained.

But she beckons him to the kitchen again, where she caps the liquor that Andromeda brought and sets it aside, getting two glasses and putting water in both, setting each on the table.

"I'm sure it has. The basics of the City are simple -- angry machine kidnaps people from multiple worlds, labels them heroes, gives them powers if they don't have any, and cuts them loose. But it doesn't discriminate. It takes everyone. I mean... I'm here." And she's not exactly hero material, as far as she's concerned. "You're-- free to ignore her designation. Lots of people do."

But she pauses, and then says, "As for-- the rest... I can try and answer what I can for you."

He gives a barely concealed snort, crossing his arms as he leaned against her counter, trying to affect a mostly...aloof air.

"Trust me, Miss Ritchi - I already have. As I'm certain you are well aware, I'm no hero. I'm sure that thing made a mistake."

Had to have. Him, a hero? Laughable.

One part, however, makes him pause.

"Powers, you say? What...sort of powers?"

"Varies. Most of the people I know had powers before they got here," she said. "I only have my experience to go off of, really. And my powers are-- awkward. To say the least..." She reaches up, awkwardly tucking her hair behind her ear, willing him not to ask what they were.

She really wasn't comfortable with her powers. They caused almost as many problems as they could fix.

He wonders if he was 'gifted' with anything.

"Interesting. Did you find that you simply figured it out? Trial and error? Or was there some glaring insightful revelation that held some specific bearing?" He eyes her, trying to keep the tone as civil as possible -- he doesn't know why she's being so nice, not really, and he's completely sure showing up here was a mistake. This was too dangerous of territory to be treading right now.

But he can't bring himself to leave.

"And what might your powers be, if I could be so bold to ask?"

"I figured it out over time. Then trial and error," she explains. "And that it doesn't turn off. I had to get- help to shut it off." She can't help but grip her arm, right above her watch.

"I'm an empath," she replies after some hesitation. "And if I -- can connect with someone strongly, I can pick up little bits of their personality and ... more importantly, borrow their powers."

He nods, once. Trial and error, he can do. That is not a new concept to him. Makes things undeniably more difficult, but it is something he has perfected over the years.

"Empath." He frowns, and steps away from her, once.

"That makes you a tad overpowered, don't you think?"

He's not fond of this insinuation of connecting strongly with someone', either. It just sort of inexplicably pisses him off, and he can feel his mood go even farther south.

"No, it makes me a walking privacy violations and ethics concern," Roxanne snaps-- and then steps back, rubbing her face. "Trust me, having to - connect to someone to borrow thier powers? Not that great. It makes me less me and... it's really not a great trade off. I've done it once, figuring out what it was... and that's all."

She doesn't tell him how useless it was when she was kidnapped, either. She doesn't want to get into that story right now.

"But I'm sure you'll figure yours out as you go. And so you know, my powers are not -- on. Active. I have something that turns them off," she assures him. "So your big brain is safe."

"Yes," he snaps back, gesticulating wildly, frantically, "that too. You are a walking issue, if I do say so myself - and regardless of whatever that 'something' might be, how on earth am I supposed to know you haven't secretly activated it in order to get into my head?"

Edited 2011-12-28 06:30 (UTC)

"Visual affect. I start picking up on you, you'll know it, trust me-- especially if you're emoting half as intensely as you're speaking," Roxanne said, fixing him with a glower.

"And we both know you're pursuing a side interest-- when you'd really like answers to other, equally important questions," she added, getting exasperated. "Can we please cut to the chase. It was June last you knew. I'm three months ahead of you. A lot happened in those three months. Now, do you want to remain in the dark or do you want to be spoiled? I can work this either way..."

A deep breath, "But I would like to suggest the path of least resistance, Megamind.... and that you don't know, and live your life here-- how you want to live it, without-- added pressure."

It's the best chance at being an adult about this-- at giving him an out, or at least, a time to find out what he wants without her telling him what he chooses. Oh, she knows he knows things-- but that doesn't mean he needs to act on, or live out, those things... right?

"So you can know, and try and figure out how you came to those decisions, or you can-- not know, and make your own life choices from this point. I'll-- stand by your decision in either regard, Megamind."

He wants to stop and talk about this ‘visual affect’ thing she mentioned – the scientific implications of it are astounding and oh what he wouldn’t give to run a few tests, look at the DNA structure of her cells and do a side by side comparison of a random, non-specific citizen and see the differences and how the molecular structures aligned themselves.

He had a feeling she wouldn’t swing for that, though. He couldn’t blame her. It’s not as if she had any real reason to want to help him with anything, but here she is, letting him into her house and telling she’ll stand by him?

The whole damn world had gone mad.

“Stop – just…just stop for a moment, alright?” He presses gloved fingertips to his forehead, trying to massage the headache away. It doesn’t work, and he’s left with a throb in his head and his heart that isn’t assuaged.

“Let me just – get this straight. If by what you’re saying is accurate – we’re…from different timelines, correct? Meaning you’ve obviously experienced things I haven’t and therefore know things that I clearly don’t.” Obviously.

“Knowing that,” he starts pacing, steepling his fingers and pointing them downward, “you are still standing here - knowing full well how I am currently and how things end up in my future - telling me that you will stand by my decision, whatever it might be?” He gives her a look of blatant disbelief. Of course, he knows this ‘decision’ is only to hear or not to hear it – it has little to do with him as a person. That much, she had made obvious.

Did you ever think I would really be with you?

Of course not. What folly. His contents were rubbish. Everyone knew it. He might have a flashy cover, but inside, everything was foul and rotten and of little concern to someone filled with wholesome goodness like Roxanne Ritchi.

“Miss Ritchi, you do realize that as of last night, you brutally dumped me in the rain and I have little reason to believe anything you say? You cannot possibly be harboring any sort of feeling for me besides animosity – not that I can blame you. And, on top of all that, you are giving me…some sort of choice, whether or not to hear this perceived ‘future’ of mine?” He clicks his tongue.

“I’m afraid that it’s…difficult to look at this as anything besides little more than one of your nosy reporter tricks.”

It's funny how you learn someone's reactions -- over time, you know them, love them, learn them. With her purse will on hand she digs out a little bottle of Advil and sets it by the water she put out for him, before retreating back a bit.

He doesn't trust her. The irony? Man, that's some rich stuff right there. He doesn't trust her. She's become the bad guy in his personal emotional drama-- fine. Okay. She'll deal.

She glances to the flowers -- proof he wants reconciliation, or just following through on another human ritual he doesn't quite understand? No, after months of dating him - she's fairly sure he understands why you bring flowers to a woman you've hurt.

"You need a demystify setting on that gun," she finally says. "You want to know my feelings? Ask me. I need you--" She stops, remembering those words on the tower, and-- swallows it down, watching him-- nervous and worried and not just a little bit hurt.

Acid green eyes followed her movements as he watches her deliver the small bottle next to his glass of water, though he hesitates before picking it up. Alright – it’s not specifically that he doesn’t trust her not to drug him, but honestly…after what he’d put her through…that charade as Bernard then her finding out in the worst way possible…

Hell, he wouldn’t blame her if there was a bit of cyanide coated onto the pills.

But when he swallowed them he tasted nothing of the sort and he’d notice because he’s meticulous like that and he sees, hears, and tastes a good deal more than your average human bringsolely based on the amount of experimenting on himself that he's done.

Guinea pigs are in short supply when you want to know how arsenic works.

They’re safe, and he wonders again why she’s doing this, what his future could possibly be to have her acting like this.

“I worked on one, but all it did was fill the lair with bone chilling mist,” he mutters under her breath, between her words. His eyes flick to the flowers, then her and they’re just a little wide, a little surprised – and stunned.

“Need me –“

Now, she couldn’t possibly have actually meant that – because…no one needs him, do they? Minion had left, he’d ruined things with both him and Roxanne … no one needed him.

But, unless Roxanne had somehow turned into a pathological liar since she’d set foot into this city - though he supposed that stranger things really have happened – then she was telling the truth.

And that truth wasn’t something he specifically knew how to deal with. Not coming from her.

“You. Need me.” His disbelief is obvious and he sets his glass of water down that he’d been clutching after swallowing his pills. “That’s—that’s either…incredibly rich and one hell of a failed attempt at a prank or you’re serious, and I can’t…I can’t figure out which is worse.”

She couldn’t need him. He was a villain. He’d hurt her, lied to her, manipulated her, tricked her.

Edited 2011-12-28 19:06 (UTC)

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