capeandcowllogs | let's tie words, 'cuz they amount to nothing

Entry tags:

let's tie words, 'cuz they amount to nothing

WHO: Ghost & Max
WHERE: Max & Midii's apartment
WHEN: backdated to Sunday evening?
WARNINGS: none probably
SUMMARY: Ghost brings broken things for Max to fix.
FORMAT: Quick.

[ she had decided to take the afternoon off to relax, and even though it was now rapidly heading into evening she hadn't made any movement to stop working yet, holed up crosslegged on her bed with her electronics. Midii was out for the evening, she would probably go patrolling far later but not yet. for now, she was obligation free and thinking as she worked.

She was worried about Ghost. She hadn't been acknowledging it, but she was. She didn't think he was eating or sleeping enough (not that he ever did), and something was bothering him. She wasn't sure how she could tell. It was instinctive. But she didn't know what to do about it, or how to ask. She wasn't entirely certain how to slide back into the easy routine after their last few conversations.

So for now she was fixing the things she could fix, and thinking. ]

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Max.

[The word is like an access code to unlock all those feelings he keeps locked just under the surface, and as usual, he's surprised by the effort it takes to subvert them again, opening his hands] I wondered if perhaps you would find a use for this--it is a computer. From 1983.

[he skillfully evaded the question about how he was doing by pretending not to hear it. It was truly masterful.]

May I come in?

1983? [ Her eyebrows go up, and then she steps out of the door and gestures towards it for him to go through. ] Of course you can. Lemme grab this.

[ She stoops to pick it up and carry it in after him, brows furrowing in confusion and concern. He hadn't answered her question. So she rephrases it. ] It's been a little while. What have you been up to?

Ancient, by your standards. Thank you. [he drifts in, moving over promptly to lean against the table, one hand, tangible and reminding himself the reality he has to work with. These things are there. He can't feel it through the suit, but he knows it's there... It's not as important that it's there as that she's there, but he's not bold enough to touch her without a reason, yet. She may not like it.

And then he replays her question and decides he needs to answer it.]

Attempting to integrate moral components with practical, logical concerns. I believe the two systems are individually both meaningful, but... sadly not interoperable.

[he looks back at her, the mask's eyes bright, and enthusiastic--more animated in her presence than he's been all week]

I have felt your absence.

They're all in museums by my time. I don't think I've ever actually had a chance to look at one. [ it's light and casual as she shuts the door behind her with a foot and moves to put the computer down on the table. That he's supporting himself on the table is telling, but of what she's not sure. Not yet, at least. ]

Maybe not always, but I think most of the time there's a way to make it work. What's the situation?

[ She looks over at him, smiling again at that. Touched, and happy. ]

I'm always around. And you're always welcome.

[satisfied that the world is as real as it can be to his physical perception, he turns to float to the kitchen counter and investigate. He's learned it's safe to eat here, now, and he's more relaxed about that than he is almost anywhere else.]

That is very generous of you. [this to the thing she said last, about being always welcome, while he mulled over the rest of her words and shifted, clicking his fingers in a tattoo like rainfall on the counter. Then, obliquely;]

Shooting rabid dogs.

[ bread and peanut butter and honey are still out from where she made her lunch, because she couldn't be bothered to pick up after herself yet. ]

It's a little selfish. I like having you here. [ This from behind the table, as she crouches down to pry loose a panel on the back to get a closer look. It's easier to say from down here than it would be if she were looking at him, could see his reaction. ]

I'm assuming that's a metaphor for something, but I don't know what.

I like to be here. [The boldness of his words surprises even him, as he reaches over to take a piece of bread, pulling the crust off, carefully, meticulously, with sharp-ended gloves.] ...With you.

[he doesn't rush on. Doesn't try to pretend he didn't say it. His shoulders are laced with the tension of a potential reaction, but he owes her more than the cowardice of a swift compliment tossed like a dagger.]

...I know your stance on murder.

[ She smiles behind the table, and then stands up and wipes her hands off on her jeans. ] Mutually beneficial, then. [ It's light, easy, the first thing she can think of to say as she wanders over to prop her elbows on the counter and rest her chin on her hands. Avoiding saying precisely how happy that makes her because it feels like too much of a risk. ] We'll have to do it more often.

[ but her smile falters slightly at those last words, and then slips off entirely into an almost frown. ]

Family hangups. [ a beat. ] What's going on, Ghost?

I am of the belief that "the skrull invasion" here was a mere beta test--one that doubled as a distraction. [less cautious, now. He's used to going on rants, sharing his ideas, being called crazy--but Max wouldn't call him crazy. He can trust... for the first time in a long time, he can trust someone outside himself.] Their intentions are global in scope.

[He tips up his helmet, halfway, balling up the remainder of the bread and stuffing it into his mouth, half starved and suddenly aware of it] I, hh--[chewing, considering] Do you mind if we talk about us?

Makes sense. I don't think the ones in the City would have been so - willing to sacrifice themselves - if it hadn't been in exchange for something big. [ pause. a moment's reflection, and then slightly subdued. ] Something very big.

[ she blinks, almost taken aback but not moving, and then tilts her head and nods a little. ] I don't. What specifically about us? [ it's smooth enough, very little outward indication of her uncertainty and shoved down worry. ]

I gave them all the excuse they needed to view us as a coalesced threat to their continual existence. [is that contrition? It certainly sounds like it, without the residual hum of the mask's vocoder. Just a soft spoken man, pulling his mask all the way off and running his fingers through his hair, stealing little looks at her like a thief in a jewelry shop, the fugitive motions of his other hand going for more bread without looking away from her] Others are conducting investigations--we are needed in the City. You may be in a position to act as--... as your talents suit.

[The spectre of guilt cloaked in fear vies with his renewed determination to be honest with her, and the two circle for moments across his face before he responds.]

I am developing inadvisable and ...seemingly infrangible emotional connections to you. [a beat. An underline.] Strong ones.

They were already in the middle of trying to do ... something to us, they weren't an innocent party. [ her frown grows slightly more pronounced. The entire incident is one she doesn't enjoy remembering, and she generally tries to ignore the fact that Ghost killed two of the Skrulls. ] Maybe. We'll see.

[ she waits, patiently, dreading what he could be trying to say that would cause that expression on his face, nails digging into the palm of one hand the only give away of her worry. And then he speaks and she blinks. That... was fine. Nothing like the bad news she'd been dreading. ]

Okay. [ a beat, as she realizes she should say more to that. but what, precisely? Good? That might be pushing it. oh. ] Why inadvisable?

[he coughs into the silence, watery eyes watching hers daring for a moment, before darting away to safer sights. The answer to her question was both bogglingly simple and beyond complex.]

...I do not wish to harm you.

You won't.

[ It's immediate, instinctive, her composure slightly rattled as she stands up, hands on the counter. The possibility is so far fetched to her it doesn't even register as a possibility. ]

You wouldn't.

Edited (what do periods look like) 2012-06-28 00:36 (UTC)

[Ghost drifts closer, almost close enough to touch. He's breathing quietly, the only outward sign of inner stress the tightened jaw muscle.]

You must register the possibility.

[but that's not right, because Ghost doesn't make demands. He doesn't give orders. He makes suggestions, he advises. He cajoles. He gives elucidation about the situations he would see come to fruition. But he's not phrasing it so carefully, right now.]

As I have registered the possibility that you may harm me. Trust can reside only inside that space.

[ She bites her lip, frowning, and flexes her hand momentarily. Cataloguing his movements, trying to figure out what to say. She can't argue against the possibility that she might harm him. ]

It's not --

[ A step forward. ]

Ghost. I trust you. And I can't believe you would ever willingly hurt me.

Ah, the qualifier. [this would be difficult ordinarily. Demasked it's almost impossible, but for her presence, but for the importance of these words, and this ...situation that must be resolved without ambiguity.]

"Willingly." Yes.

[close enough to touch. He lifts his hand, and almost brushes her cheek, metal tipped fingers lingering slightly outside the bounds of contact.]

Max. I cannot say with certainty... where I would stop in the effort to keep you.

In a place like this there's a lot of possibilities to be accounted for.

But willingly is the important part.

[ For a moment she is very still, and then deliberately she tilts her head so her cheek just touches his fingers. ]

There's no effort required, Ghost.

I... [why is he suddenly sure he's on the brink, something incredibly dangerous here just waiting to spring on him, something he wants to spring on him.]

...I would like clarification on a single point. [here it goes. He licks his lips, buying a few precious extra seconds of equilibrium before the jump and the fall

And he's sure he will regret this.]

Are we merely close companions?

[ she stays utterly still, trying to figure out where this is going. Trying to map out a course ahead of time. Like a chess game, she thinks. only bigger and so much more important. ]

If companions is a merely, there's a more than. [ a beat. ] What is that more than?

[Encouraged. The ice isn't cracking, though it appeared at the outset to be thin, it's bearing the weight of his risk as he picks his way painfully awkward through strangely new, exciting ground.]

An affection that supersedes all others. Max--I-... [his voice picks up, becoming more animated.] I realize all the ways in which this venture is doomed to fail on a logical level between our divergent ages and universes and perhaps certain philosophical stances, but I cannot discard the thought. It returns to me to be dismissed again and again. The--lack of fact-based decision making leads me to believe it is an emotional quandary and that there is only one way to solve it.

I love you, Max. And I believe I always will.

Oh.

[ For a long moment that's all she says, but her eyes don't leave his face, and there's something almost pleased in them under the solemn attentiveness. What does she say to that? There's an instinctive part of her that wants to run and hide at the idea of love, of something that big. But she feels safer here than she would running from this. That means something, she thinks. ]

Love's a big deal. [ Gently, and she tilts her head just a fraction of an inch more towards his hand. ] I'm not any good at big deals. If you can put up with that --

I wouldn't mind giving affection that supersedes all others a shot. With you. [ Clears her throat a bit. ] You mean a lot to me.

[He doesn't respond right away, the hand against her cheek slipping down to trace the line of her throat, her shoulder--to pause at her arm and squeeze gently, a reassurance for him that she is real, that this is happening.]

Oh. [it could definitely have gone worse. He's not sure if he should have expected--but he has no expectations.]

I believe if you... behave as you have been, there should be no pressure.

[ She smiles, a little disbelieving, bringing her hand up to brush against his cheek for a moment. Almost skittish, and dropped to his shoulder almost as quickly. Her exhale is on the edge of a laugh. ]

Okay. [ a beat, and she ducks her head for a moment before looking back up, grinning. ] Does this mean I can badger you to sleep and take showers more?

Conditional. [he fights down the fear at just the thought of being in a vulnerable position without his suit, with the static in his head, ] I will eat what you prepare. And... while you are in the apartment, I will make time for--showers.

[ she bites at her lip for a moment. Are there new rules here? She doesn't know. Regardless, she takes the last steps forward and leans her forehead against his shoulder, hand still on his arm. ]

I. Um. [ Words she doesn't know how to spit out. She'll have to substitute, for now. ] You don't need to do anything you don't want to do. Not for me.

I know. [At the motion forward, his eyes half close, his arms come up slowly to touch her back, to draw her against him and make her feel welcome.]

You are well within your rights to make requests of me, regarding conduct you find difficult to mesh.

[ she folds into his arms easily, wrapping her own around him. This is easy as breathing, she thinks, and she's smiling when she tilts her head on his shoulder to look up. ]

Ghost. [ For a moment she lets his name linger on her lips, a certain almost possessive tinge to it. ] Thank you.

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let's tie words, 'cuz they amount to nothing

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