capeandcowllogs | I'd swallow anything offered as truth that we're on the same side

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I'd swallow anything offered as truth that we're on the same side

WHO: Max (

hacktivist)
WHERE: Ghost's place!
WHEN: After this
WARNINGS: N/A
SUMMARY: Ghost is a paranoiac, Max is an optimist. This was bound to come up sooner or later.
FORMAT: Quick to start!

[his forearms resting on the rusty fire escape, Ghost was keeping watch down the alley, waiting for the telltale set of vital signs he'd programmed his suit to focus on, labeled Max, and the three letters gave him an illogical, pleasant kind of feeling.

The lenses never stopped burning, brightening slightly as he reviewed the information he knew. Emotions weren't going to help, here. They could only do harm. They could prevent him from making a move that was valuable, or ...inspire him to make a quick move that was poorly thought out. For Max's sake, he had to control those feelings, look objectively at cause and effect, facts, possible outcomes.

In order to protect what he cared for, he would have to do his best to keep that caring suppressed. The irony was not lost on him.]

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[ She can understand his concerns, even if she thinks she's acting reasonably. That's possibly what's going to make this conversation most difficult - that she knows now precisely what she would feel if Vulcanus took him and can extrapolate from there to how he would feel if they took her. From the level of worry she would feel if she felt he was putting himself in danger to the level of worry he is probably feeling.

So she's wrapped in thought when she comes down the alleyway, bag over her shoulder, lifting a hand in acknowledgement of him. ]

Hey.

Do I come up or do you come down?

Max. [even just saying it makes him dangerously happy. He makes a note to try not to.] Hello.

[Ghost swings his helmet around to look over his shoulder at the inside of the apartment, snarls of cables, flickering monitors and dust, boxes of food and a cot, and wonders if the alley is more or less comfortable for her.]

Whichever you would prefer. It may take some time... you can sit down, up here.

Hello back. [ it's a little subdued. She'd let so much emotion slip when he came back, and talking to him now feels - different. More important. Not as simple.

Regardless, she swings her way up to the fire escape and steps into the apartment, finding a box to sit down on. She's aiming to look neutral and unconcerned, but there's a slightly tense defensiveness edging into her posture anyways. People thinking they know best for her has historically not worked out well. Consciously, she knows Ghost is different - knows he won't try to order her to do anything or push too hard or any of the other things that make her want to punch people in the face. Her subconscious isn't so confident. ]

Okay. Shoot.

[he registers the change, but he doesn't have the kind of tech to process the tone, uncertainly drumming his fingers against one arm. After she enters, he follows, and when he speaks it lacks all dangerous inflections.]

There is an innate risk in revealing personal data. Any and every piece of information may be used against you later, and unless the benefit strongly outweighs the risk, I am not a believer in informational charity.

I ask you without emotional judgment, Max - my concern for you secondary - what do you hope to gain from informing anyone, let alone someone who has been compromised in the past, about your capabilities?

[ that stings, a little. The distance to it. The concern for you secondary. This was - surprisingly difficult. ]

It's not my plan to let him know anything more than what anyone can find on the network.

As for what I'll gain - not much. Possibly not anything. But it will keep me established as someone who has nothing to hide and poses no threat. All he'll find out is that I can do without training what any trained engineer can do.

[remaining so calm, about something he felt so strongly about, was costing him considerably. The jaw tic under his mask was involuntary, and fortunately invisible. He didn't want her to be upset--but he felt like he was seeking the configuration to spring a lock, and doing rather poorly at it.]

You will downplay your ability, for your own safety? You understand that he cares nothing for you, or for any other imPort, beyond that they momentarily bring him stimulation through murder-puzzles.

[He can almost tell the edge of anger is there, lurking.]

[ a pause, her brow furrowing. She's missing something. Something important, some motivation for why this matters so much to him when she feels like it's clear it won't pose a threat to her.

She'd known this conversation wouldn't be easy, but there's tension she wasn't expecting. ]

Ghost.

[ Beat, again. She spreads her hands with a shrug of her shoulders, an unguarded gesture of confusion. ]

Why is this bothering you so much?

[it cracks his facade, but he's had years of practice, so it doesn't crumble completely.]

I don't want you to die.

Oh.

[ it's soft, more an exhale than a word. She sits back, hands dropping palm up to her knees, knocked off center. Not sure, for a long moment, how to reply to that. ]

I can take care of myself. I'll be fine, you don't need to worry about me.

[he's struggling in silence for a number of seconds to build back the wall, not risking a word until he's sure his voice is leveled.]

Understand this is no commentary on your competence.

[Though too late he realizes it is a commentary on how much he cares about her. Which could also be used against them both. This is like that kids' game, the floor is lava, only there's nothing much else to stand on in the room and the floor is Vulcanus.]

Nevermind. I have been told I am 'paranoid'. You may attribute my observations to that ...apparent affliction.

[check, he'd sooner swallow lava than the words he just managed to get out. Above anyone else, he wants her to think him credible--but the risk he perceives is too great.]

[ the silence is frustrating to say the least. She can't keep back the sudden certainty that for the first time she can think of he's editing his thoughts because he's talking to her. Because he's disappointed in her, somehow. Her back goes straighter almost instinctively, a frown edging onto her face. ]

Okay then.

[ But at the second part she looks up sharp and sudden, breath a hiss between her teeth. His words grate against everything she knows of him, the patterns she's been learning to read. They feel like giving up. ]

I'm not saying you're wrong. [ Frowning, feeling out her words as she goes in a frustrated attempt to say this right. ] But I do believe I can do this and stay safe. I - [ she lifts a hand for a moment and lets it drop again. ]

I'm not a reckless person.

[ If you tell yourself a lie for long enough, you believe it. ]

[he's surprised, initially, that she doesn't dismiss and continue on--take the path of least resistance and assume that it is baseless paranoia. (He knew the truth, that paranoia was unreasoning fear, and he had every reason to feel such things about people he had invested in - for better or for worse.)

Resolution rears its head, and he opens his hands by his sides, palms out, a confident statement of fact]

All you do in taking this tack is move the board. It isn't impossible to continue to play, but I must alter my strategies. And--

[No. Drawing his own line at worrying or guilting her by mentioning that if harm to her resulted from this, he would not let Sherlock escape unscathed for being the precipitator of events--no reason to say anything that he thinks could rob her of independent choice. She knows the facts, as they are. Even his comment about her demise may have played too close to emotional context, and not a logical one.

As ever he refrains.]

--It necessitates a closer eye on him.

[ she tries to keep the frown off her face, tries to stay neutral. In some ways, this is more confusing than anything. Others will be helping Sherlock, but their involvement doesn't seem to be bothering Ghost. ]

My participation alone won't move the board, Ghost. I'm one person, I don't have much effect on the board at all.

[ She's testing for - she doesn't know what. For some understanding of why this matters so much to him. The comment about her death lingers in the back of her head, suggesting this is an emotional response from him, but everything he's said and done otherwise has indicated the opposite. That it's simply a tactical dislike of her actions. An extremely stubborn tenacious dislike. ]

Even if I didn't, others would. You'd still have to keep a closer eye on him.

My other-- [this is what happens when he starts talking before he's fully planned out each and every sentence] --my allies have for the most part declined to submit to examination.

[he shifts, uncomfortable in his own skin, uncomfortable telling her the reason he wants her out of the spotlight, the real reason.]

I trust that you will be careful.

[ A pause, and she stands and takes a hesitant step towards him before stopping. ]

I'm always careful.

If I knew -- [ if she could figure out why. A faint huff of frustration as she runs her hand through her hair. ]

I don't think it's a danger to me, Ghost. I wouldn't reveal much. But if you really don't want me to, I won't. [ And that costs to say, how much he matters to her made obvious. If there is one thing she values, it has always been her independence. The realization that that has changed, at least in regards to him, is an odd one. ]

If you knew...?

[a quizzical pause, and then he inhales slowly at the last part.]

...would you like to play a game? I have chess.

[ she waves a hand like that answers the question, feeling a faint flush as she glances aside, self-conscious. That isn't a question she wants to answer, particularly. ]

I'd love to play chess with you. [ she regains control of her face and glances up at him with a faint smile. ] I used to play with - my dad, but it's been a while.

Ah. Your family... you miss them?

[Ghost busied himself in a box, drawing out a chess set of simple wooden pieces and a battered board, upending the box and setting it down on top, starting to set the pieces up before glancing up at her]

Which color?

I didn't see them much. But sometimes I do. Do you miss yours?

[ Casually, lightly. She sits down across from him on the floor, leaning forward. ]

Black?

...strange... I would have assumed your upbringing was a traditional one. [but then he never claimed to be good at people, outside of figuring out what they want.] ..I haven't seen them in years.

[he starts to set up the black pieces on her side, a little nervousness evident in the motions of his hands--as he tips a few pieces accidentally, like more might ride on this game than he can imagine.

It's the first time in a while he's done something for the pure pleasure of it, without utility, with someone he likes.] Are you very good?

Not particularly. [ and that's all she wants to say on that topic. ] So you don't miss them? Or do you still anyways.

[ absently, she picks up a couple of the fallen pieces and rights them before he can, still thinking. Sorting things out in her head, and it shows in the single-mindedness with which she adjusts the pieces on her side, centering each one perfectly. ]

I'm a fast learner, but I haven't played enough to be very good yet. You can probably beat me pretty easily right now.

[He lets it go with respect, knowing better than to demand more] I do. [a troubled pause, but then he seems to work consciously to push through it] I have connections here of equal value.

[he tilts the mask up to reveal a smile--taking the mask off completely as an absent-minded sign of trust] It's more enjoyable to play than to win or lose.

[ it wasn't fair, to ask when she wouldn't answer herself, and she nods quietly and adjusts the bishop again. ] The City's pretty good for that, I think.

[ and at him taking his mask off she looks up and smiles quickly, bright. ] I'll admit to a certain competitive streak, but playing for the sake of playing is fun.

Your move first.

[he watches blankly at her smile, not quite sure whether he can appropriate it to his removal or a coincidence.]

Yes.

[he picks up a pawn and moves it forward, to e4, starting a King's Pawn Game. Not daring to hope that she means playing with him, specifically, is fun. There are many sophisticated chess games on the computer.]

[ A pause, and then she moves. Black knight to f6, her fingers lingering on it for a long moment before she taps it decisively and withdraws them. ]

I don't think it would be that dangerous, Ghost.

Edited (ha no i found a better diagram... i think...) 2012-05-21 03:15 (UTC)

His capacity for torture is as yet untested, but he has a one-for-one failing score regarding being kidnapped. As far as prototypical security systems go, I wouldn't trust him with anything above hamster sitting.

[he looked down at the board, huffing softly to himself.] e2e4e7e5g1f3b8c6f1c4g8f6.... You are not a traditionalist.

Hhh. [touches his head and then moves another pawn]

But nothing I'd be showing him would put me at risk.

[ she shrugs slightly, watching his move, a slight frown of concentration on her face. ] It makes things too predictable.

[ moving forward a pawn to face his first one, opening up a bishop. ]

Don't underestimate my desire to stay safe.

As you say. [a beat] A name seems harmless. Then they're knocking on your door and taking you away.

[he pulls his attention away from the game for a moment, moving another pawn almost absently] I do not question your self preservation, only your perception of what constitutes dangerous information. If this Sherlock were a skrull sleeper agent--what better way to acquire information? We met no resistance aboard that ship. You were there.

But there wouldn't be any reason to take me away. I build things, Ghost, I'm not a threat to them.

[ To all appearances she's concentrating fully on the game still, sliding her bishop forward. ]

Check. [ Murmured. It's a very easy to get out of check, and it's opened up her knight and bishop, but she's never played a particularly safe game of chess. ]

I was there.

Ghost, they have no reason to want Max Gibson, and if he was a Skrull agent, all this would do is make it clear that I have nothing to hide.

[he was quiet, for a long moment, before gently reaching to knock his king over, getting up silently, pulling his mask back down and then floating over to check something on his impressive computer readouts. As silent as a ...ghost...]

...

[glances back at her, as if surprised to see her still.]

Your mind is made up.

[ She stares, and then clenches her fists, keeping her gaze fixed on the board, picking up his king and rolling it in her hand. ]

No. Stop it.

[ It's quiet, tight. Frustrated more than anything, though there's a lurking edge of anger. ]

I don't understand why this is bothering you, okay? I don't. I don't get it at all. Your arguments make sense but I think my counter-arguments make sense too and it's like you aren't listening to them.

Nobody gets hurt but me if it goes wrong. So what's the problem?

[he bears it quietly, patiently, unreactive in the face of her anger.] I have listened to your counter-arguments.

The information is yours to disperse or retain.

[a beat]

"It is what it is."

Oh.

[ there's a long silence. Quietly, she places his king back on the board, standing up. ]

Can we finish the game?

Yes. [Apparently internally satisfied with the prior conflict, he drops to a crouch in front of the game and re-surveys, before looking back at her face. Absently, he moves a knight to protect his king.]

You play aggressively.

[ She settles again, looking at the board instead of him. Not frowning, but looking tired, a certain tenseness to the stoop of her shoulders as she leans forward.

She slides her bishop back almost to his starting position. ]

Do I?

There are midgame and endgame concerns. There is no known opener devised to give one side the win every time--therefore long term strategy is more valuable than short term.

[he watches her curiously]

You would win at any cost?

I don't generally have the patience for long term strategy. [ she shrugs, still tense. still not meeting his gaze. ]

It's a game. I play to play.

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I'd swallow anything offered as truth that we're on the same side

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