goddamngrenades | Voicemail

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Almost. [fondly] She was certainly unique in that respect.

She survived the crash, at least. [she won't mention that she deleted herself after they found and left the Director, however]

So, dumb AI. Anything else this place still need?

A full crew but- North's in the Militia, South's gone, Tex is also in the militia, Maine's in the militia, You're- well let's just say that big dumb idea about regrouping was a big dumb idea and this is more a 'if the dome falls and we need somewhere to hide' kind of place.

It's just a dumb project I did instead of sleeping or coping with a lot of shit. That's all. Doesn't really need to be anything. I mean- some people paint, right?

It's not dumb. [quiet, firm] Neither idea was dumb.

[she slides one hand against her forehead, dragging her hair back out of her eyes before glancing sidelongways at him] No way to have predicted things would have fallen as they did. Let alone that people would willingly sign up to the militia.

A time may yet come when a place like this will find use, whether we want it to or not. [you could never be too prepared - they'd both learned that through hard experience.] It's was productive 'way of coping', so don't sell yourself short.

I hoped- I don't know what I hoped. To have some of what little had been good back. The camradarie- the support. Part of me misses having a unit. [ As strange as being a part of the project had been, the sense of purpose was gratifying. He shakes his head at himself- it didn't matter here. They were a group of individuals and that, while unpredictable, was safer than the alternative.

Maybe he could rent the space out as a gym. Who the hell knows? ]

HOw've you been? Coping, that is. This is rough for a lot of people but for you...

...When it was good, it was good, wasn't it. [They could still work together, but Carolina isn't about to expect everyone to fall back in, fall into line. Even she isn't certain she could do that, go all the way -- and she hadn't helped with her reveal during that one team workout either.] We can still have some of those things. But not everything.

[coping?] Heh. Coping? Adapting. Even with unpleasant surprise after unpleasant surprise.

[she's quiet for a moment, before her gaze drops to the floor] It'd be harder, if I was the only one here. I'm not sure it'd be working out as well under other circumstances.

I think if it could be less like it was and more like a real unit...

[ He shakes it off. That would mean joining the militia, the army, and he's...not going to do that again. one squad dead in an ambush and one that cannibalized itself- yeah. He's too burned to really try again.

Either way this is a good place to practice for all of them. ]

You know I'm here for you- right? Whenever you need?

[ There's no verbal response to that. Just a long look, measured and understanding. He doesn't need to say more, not to Carolina. Some things take time, and while it's been easier for some more so than others to fall in with the newly established PFA (even in its militia reboot infancy), not so for these two.

But you can never have too many safe locations for putting in practice. ]

Yeah. I know. [she nudges his elbow lightly with a fist] And you don't need to hold yourself alone either.

I'm- yeah. I'm getting that. And getting out of my own ass. Seriously, how do you guys stand me when I'm this much of a jackass?

[ It baffles, is what it does. All the way to the coffee table and now cold coffee, he remains baffled. ]

[there's a soft scoff rather than a laugh in reply]

Probably because during those occasions that you're not a jackass, you're capable of getting things done. And you're a good friend.

Not like the rest of us are much better, anyway.

I try. Seriously, though, some self awareness and a few rounds with a therapist'll do us all some good. Been do'n me some at least, dunno about the rest of you. But Clair? We got issues. PFL gave us issues. It's okay to work through them.

'Issues' is certainly one way of putting it. [It takes a great deal of effort to not side-eye that little declaration, but at least there is neither denial nor scorn for the suggestion.] Some of us are working through them in our own time.

A helping hand goes a long way. Really. Just talking to a pillow worked for a bit when I first got here. Whatever works for you works for you, right? [ He nudges her with his elbow, offering a thin smile. ] You'll pull through. You always do.

..Right.

[She doesn't return his smile, small though it is. But there's no frown, just cautious neutrality.

'Always do'. Maybe that is so. For now. But what happens if the day comes where she doesn't want to anymore?

...Feeling sorry for herself is a useless activity. Her head shakes.]

I'd rather not talk about that right now, if that's all the same to you.

No problem. [ With that he drops the subject, focusing instead on the cold cocoa. Well.

It's still chocolate so fuck it, he takes a sip of his anyway. Mmmm. Tasty. ]

What do you wanna talk about? I'm here for you, Clair.

[ Cold cocoa is further neglected, the other mug left on the table as Carolina finally sinks down onto the battered old couch.

Palm scrubs over her face a moment, and she feels..older. Just, older. Older than York, which she is, older than her mother and her mother's clone combined -- but never as old as the man that sired her became. Palm cups her chin, rough fingers with their scarred knuckles caging her mouth, before a crooked smile forms and she opens her eyes. ]

Can I just. Stay here a little while?

[she doesn't want to talk. just listen, let his voice be an anchor for her if only for a time.]

...

[ It's a tentative thing- reaching out to rest his hand on her shoulder. What he really wants to do is comb his fingers through her hair but that- he's not sure if he's earned that right back yet. Just a moment's hesitation before it dodges to the left to rest on her shoulder. Squeeze, thumb rolling a soft circle against her collarbone. ]

Sure, Clair. As long as you like.

[ He can't say no. Won't. It's not in him to deny her anything and that- that's probably not all that healthy but he's working on it, baby steps to leveling out, to scrapping together the torn up bits of him into someone that she can really depend on. Trust to have her back in more than just the ops. ]

Wanna hear about how I acidentally almost married into the mafia again?

[ It's better that he doesn't. That he diverts to her shoulder, doesn't touch her hair. Physical contact has always been a thing she's limited to people she's comfortable with, but there's an intimacy to his first gesture that wouldn't have been appropriate. That might not ever be again.

But a hand on her shoulder is a welcome weight, and her free hand lifts him, curls around his to offer a squeeze in return. It's a thank you. It's appreciation. It's a sign of her own progress in healing, after a fashion. She's spent a long time keeping her hurts to herself, carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Letting someone else help lift, if only for a little while, is huge progress for the likes of Carolina. ]

Only you could manage that accidentally. [she's smiling very slightly, just at the corners of her mouth, but there's amusement in her voice. She can always stand to hear this story again.]

I am very talented.

[ He shifts enough that they're pressed together from shoulder to knee on the sofa, something simple and grounding as he works through his mug of cocoa. THe story's an old one, more fiction than fact at this point, but it never fails to get a laugh or derisive snort from her. That and that alone is why he drags it out, gesturing and embellishing on every single shade of the tale. ]

Is that the word? Funny, I've heard others say differently.

[It's a light verbal ribbing, something that continues in quiet tones, a proverbial punching of an artificially inflated 'ego' for the pure intent of describing a nonsense story. He never quite tells it the same way twice, and she appreciates that - even as she picks apart some of the nonsensical parts and points out where he's contracting himself.

It's nice. It's a nice distraction, if only for a little while, from the world outside the bunker. ]

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