housewareshero | IC Inbox for empatheias

Hey, besides that one?

[he has to ask, it's in the smartass credo]

Shoot.

Technically that shouldn't count since it's a question about a question.

[ She huffs a fond sounding smartie-pants under her breath. Mental breath? Funny how that can translate like this. ]

Sure you won't mind something personal? Might catch you off-guard.

[ At this point it's hard to gauge if she's just messing with him or not. ]

[Personal, huh? oh, he likes where this might be going]

Nah, seriously, what's goin' on?

[ He probably will not! ]

Hm? Nothing at all. Just wonderin' what's up with dyeing your hair? I mean, ladies dig the salt-and-pepper look.

--guess that makes me a hypocrite, considering.

[ But she has a good reason! ]

[THAT IS NOT WHAT HE WAS EXPECTING JILL GODDAMMIT. it takes him aback for a moment]

I - you - what? Hypocrite? So, what, do you dig the hair dye, or not, or - where's this comin' from? Considerin' what?

[HE DOESN'T WANT TO ADMIT HE'S OLD IS ALL, WHAT]

[ WHO DOES EXPECT THAT? But it weirds her out a little. He looks artificial. ]

Huh, oh I'm just sayin' it's a little strange is all. I mean you've got that nice bit on the side and then you go and fix it on the top.

[ Neither does she. ]

Hypocrite, I mean. I dye mine. I mean, the chestnut color is natural. It's just after... it. [ There's a long pause, like she wants to talk about something and sighs heavily. You can hear her shake her head. ] Nothing.

[you should have seen the wooden hand, now THAT was dumb-looking. this one is so much better]

You - wait, you seriously like the bit on the side? ... I hate it. It - well.

[he hears that hesitation, that pause of hers, and realizes that it might be for similar reasons. this is private. it's in their heads. and who's she gonna tell?]

I got it when I was only nineteen. On ... when everything started.

[ Still beats nothing, right? She's seen worse injuries, still. ]

Yeah, well, we all get older. Different for men, though.

[ They become handsome and dignified. Women are spinsters and hags. ]

...yeah? Might've noticed the blonde roots on me. I was... I was cryogenically frozen. I lost pigmentation in my hair.

[ha, dignified, right. ~~Exhibit A right here. Exhibit B: Rick Sanchez, aka Sir Not Appearing In This Thread~~]

That's a thing? Fuck. Well ... for the record, so's bein' scared so shitless yer hair goes white. It happened when I saw the ultimate manifestation of evil in the flesh.

[ Well. He can be, you know. When he tries. ]

Didn't think it was, but the bastard was using me as a human experiment. For the record, color I dye my hair is what it was before.

[ She listens with care. She'd heard it before, but it was supposed to be an urban myth. But it wasn't fear or shock it was literally the worst thing it could be. ]

Imagine that'd do it for just about anyone. You could pull it off.

Holy fuckballs, that blows. I hope you knocked his block off once you thawed out.

[he pauses. the thought that they're actually talking about all of this is both terrifying and an immense relief. she's one of the few who gets it, and in a place like this, with no Book, no Ruby, no Baal, he might actually be ... no, SHE might actually be safe. the fact that he even comes clean with himself about that distinction sets his crystal glowing bright enough to show through his shirt, and he's glad no one but him is there to see it. enjoy that positive hit, Elios, it's a strong one. so strong, in fact, that it makes his eyes sting. Jill might hear the faint sounds of piano music, despite himself. a flash of memory: a twirl of white, the sound of laughter, the feel of wind in hair with the windows down , a first hint of spring, heady and free]

... Y'know how you said in the woods, you only had three friends left? ... I ...

[he blows out a sigh. right]

Till a few months before I showed up here, I didn't have any. It... was a choice.

...don't know. Might be dead. Got hit by the brunt of a rocket launcher blast and got here. I'm not... sure if anyone can kill him. If Chris doesn't succeed, the entire world will be infected. Millions will die.

[ There's a twitch in her voice, a tremble of certainty and yet a strange confidence in Chris. If anyone can do it, it'll be him. If anyone can, Chris will end his life and fix everything, even if she can't.

Jill's hits a weird twist of emotions, but when it boils down to Chris it always ends in trust. It's the most integral part of her being and one that she cannot help but struggle to bring to the forefront. But she recalls that day, the way she'd gripped onto his shirt with the fabric in hand and the way she'd pushed him away. The hope she had in her heart and the certainty. ]

...three are from before for me. I don't open up, really. Guess I might seem like I do, but it's not... it's too hard. I don't want a target on anyone's back ever again.

[ She breathes audibly and it's clear that she understands him. That it's commiseration at its most basic. Her loneliness is nearly palpable through this, a heavy drag of something jolting, tingling over fingertips and through the arms. ]

I'm sorry, Ash.

I knew you got it.

[he says it with certainty, but his voice is still quiet. saying it aloud, actually admitting that all his bluster and rudeness is to keep people safe, to keep them from getting close for their own damn good ... it's new.]

M'sorry, too. About how shitty it is for you. Sounds like we both left some pretty big messes behind.

Yeah, well... hope we do. No other choice, is there?

[ Not just to her own predicament, but his. Like she's talking about both sides, like she's sure he gets it and has to push forward, too. ]

Ha, guess like drawn to like, huh? [ But it's sweeter in a way, not just empathetic or understanding or even friendly. She figures they probably understand each other a little bit more now. ] All we can do is try to get back and do some clean-up duty. Seem like the kinda guy that manages, even if it means going through hell. Something I can relate to, but I figure you know that by now. Some people are just shit, aren't they.

Some people, some demons. Same shit, different universe.

[he huffs out a sigh and it carries over their mental link, too. it's frustrated, but relieved. it feels good to know he can actually unload on someone about this]

I was too bombed at your place to even want to tell you what happened, but ... you ...

[this is both the hardest and easiest thing to admit, and were Ash a deeper person, he'd marvel at the duality of it. instead, it's just odd. his crystal's still glowing as he breaks down the first layer of that Pink Floyd-esque wall]

I should tell you. Y'know. How it really started. How it went down. You already told me a ton of your shit. It seems ...

[what's that word that hasn't even seemed like a real concept in decades? right]

Fair.

Hey, so far this place hasn't been too bad. Let's not let my uncanny ability to have my pessimistic thoughts come true.

[ Honestly, she usually takes it as a sound of relief, expelling all the bullshit out in a breath. Maybe not easy path, but easier once the weight's been lifted. ]

Hey, it's... I mean, you don't have to. [ But she doesn't push it and make it sound unwelcome. ] No real thing as "fair," you know? We all do things at our own pace. I still get as pissed as I do sad when I think about working back in the RPD and how things went. Still got things that it's... I mean sometimes you have to sort it out on your own as best you can?

[ But that sounds like she's discouraging him. So she pauses and there's this extension through it all, something warm and soft. Not a breeze, but like a touch. A hand clasped over an arm, settling into the crook of an elbow. The way she speaks has that fine-tuned care in it, almost impossible to differentiate because she holds it all in.

She knows he's been through some rough shit. He doesn't even need to say it or imply it for that to be clear to her. ]

But if you want someone to listen, I'm pretty damn good at it.

How 'bout I come over to your place, or you come to the Pan, or whatever? I ... I'm not so good at this crystal crap, and ...

Not that I"m tryin' to say you can't handle it, but.

I know when I think about this stuff, my crystal tends do to some weird shit. I don't wanna ... I don't know. Blow up your brain?

You sure you wanna talk about this in public? Name the place and I'll be there.

[ There's a bit of a sound on her end, not so much disappointed as stressed. Not from him, but something else. ]

Yeah, tell me about it. I mean I'd be fine but there's something pretty crappy about talking about you know, important or serious things over what's essentially a phone in your brain. I do better in person, I guess.

[ Her voice is more controlled than her expressions. The tiniest way the light shifts in her eyes or her lips turn or twitch say more than any words she might offer ever could. ]

Me, too. This is -

[he can feel the memories already clawing at his brain, the sound of rotten nails against splintered wood, the faint rattling of chain. the stench of rotten fruit and old, moist, dirt, stale air.]

- okay, yer right, airing this shit in a public place, even if it's my room in a public place is a bad idea. You got any better ones?

[he's asking legitimately, even though his "voice" is right on that razor's edge of sounding like a dick about it]

[ She can feel it and recognize it the same way she notices her own feelings now. When you attempt to push it down it's still there, like a scribble erased while the impression from the pressure is still there. ]

...wait, you've been living there, too? I mean if you want that, it's no big deal. Guess my place is always safe. No one really comes in and out and I live alone.

[ Plus, it's coming together. Other than she isn't much of a decorator, still functionality above all else. ]

I'm comin' over. I'll bring food.

[it's the least he can do.]

((ooc: Mind if I make this a thread option in this month's post?))

Well, shucks. What a gentleman. See you soon, Ash.

[ OOC: You mean continuing this? Fine by me! c: ]

IC Inbox for empatheias

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