spit_it_out | OOM: Cell

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OOM: Cell

It's been a couple of days. He's glad of it, though the boredom that's setting in is starting to worry him a little. Truth is though, sitting here reading has made him lethargic, to the point where he's not sure even the Other Guy could fight his way through.

Though that's ridiculous. So far, there hasn't been anything the Other Guy couldn't fight his way through. Still. He's supposed to be making an effort to live normally, isn't he? If only to prove to himself that he can. So he probably can't hide himself away in here forever.

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Molly laughs.

(She'd actually rather deal with the Other Guy. At least then she'd know what to do, and being smacked around holds no fear for her whatsoever.)

"I'll get a mocha, I guess, with cream - oh, and mallows. I kinda need the caffeine." And there it is - size large. Very large.

Laughing a little: "Do you play Monopoly as well, Baby? Or is that a Bar thing?"

'The bar plays monopoly?'

He can't find it in him to be surprised. And nods at her drink, along with her comment.

'Tired?'

"And chess. And a mean Connect 4."

Writing appears on the cell wall: Also Thud. And Parcheesi. And Jumanji, if you get her drunk. She draws the line at Quidditch, however.

The writing disappears, to be replaced by I prefer Ravenous, Ravenous Rhinos, but I play cards, too. On occasion.

Molly laughs, patting the wall. "Thanks for the info, Baby."

She picks up the mocha and sips. (There is a dash of cream on her nose, but she won't mention it if he doesn't.)

"I'm always tired," she says, lightly. "It's okay, though."

He's a smart guy. He doesn't need help to figure out why. So he sips his drink quietly, watching her over the rim.

He'd comment on the impromptu graffiti, but he can't find it in himself to care.

Eventually, he says - slightly awkwardly, because when is he not? - 'You have cream on your nose.'

"Like I said, I don't like the rooms here."

Her eyes dance as she sips her drink, both hands curled around her mug as if to warm them.

"Oh, well - more for later, I guess."

He looks a bit taken aback at that comment, but who is he to say someone shouldn't wear cream as an accessory?

So instead, he asks, 'what's your issue with them?'

She'll rub it off, later. But hey, it suits her -- and she doesn't exactly worry about or mind looking silly.

"I dunno, they're just -- empty. Lonely, I guess." She looks down at her mug instead of at him. "I haven't exactly had a room to myself since I was about twelve. It's childish, but they're just... silent. I can't get used to it."

'Oh.'

He tries to imagine sharing a room, and can't. Not in the way she must be talking about.

'You don't like privacy?'

"Depends on how you define it, I guess. At first it was just like a sleepover, 'cause when you're the age we were then treating it that way was less freaky, and then you just... get used to it."

She rubs her nose, unexpectedly self-conscious and only somewhat aware that she's getting rid of the cream. "It's like ... I dunno, like sleeping in the day for ten years 'cause you work nights. It might not be the best thing ever, but that doesn't make the habit easy to break."

He has zero experience of this. Which doesn't mean he can't relate.

'I'm the exact opposite. And you're right, it's not an easy habit to break.'

Yesss. Look at how they just explained an unfamiliar concept to each other and understood it. They can totally do this! Ish.

"Why don't you like yours, then?"

She knows she asked him this before, but he never exactly told her.

For a second, he thinks she means his situation, which causes him to shift uncomfortably. But then he parses it, and realises - thankfully - that's not where she's going at all.

'I don't know. It just doesn't feel right.'

A pause, and he massages his neck again.

'And because if it became uncomfortable enough to make him show up - well.'

Maybe he doesn't need to spell it out, but he does anyway.

'...he'd do a lot of damage before anyone even realised what was happening.'

Yeah, she got the gist.

"And that's why you came down here?" Molly nods, but frowns. It sucks that he basically has to sleep in a glass cage, just because no-one thought to do anything magical to the upstairs, but she can't immediately think of any way to fix that without giving him away.

"...There's gotta be some way of fixing upstairs, too. It's not like the big dude's the only super-destructive guy we've ever had - I mean, I could've broken a lot of stuff, people included, if I'd ever had a proper nightmare while I lived here. And that'd mean you'd feel calmer about it, right? If you knew there was a Plan B up there, too."

'...yeah.'

He would. But the thought of it makes his heart sink further, and he looks down again.

'It's sort of not-'

Damnit, why is explaining anything to do with this so hard? He stops, and his hands clasp together, squeeze until they're white, and he forces them to relax.

'...I was trying to live like a normal person, you know?'

"Yeah, I know. It sucks."

She touches his hand again, trying to tell him it's okay. (It's not: it's not okay at all. But she's not going anywhere.)

"But it'd be more normal than this, wouldn't it?"

She doesn't like the idea of him in a cage. It screams wrong.

'This is everything I've been trying to avoid.'

Hence, looking like shit, feeling like shit, but needing it anyway.

He moves out of his cross-legged stance, and pulls his knees up to his chest. His arms rest on top of them, feigned casual, but really nothing but defense.

'If I go down the route of getting magic defense up there, it's just another cage. That's assuming anyone could do it. And OK, I'd like it better if I wasn't on display like a circus animal, but,' he snorts a laugh, dry as bone, 'you wake up after him a few times, practically naked and with people staring, you get used to the idea of having zero dignity.'

She's seen the kids at Xavier's sit like that, after life had dropped one atom bomb too many on them. It makes her heart twist, every time.

What she really wants is to give him a hug, but she's nearly certain he wouldn't appreciate that; she's wary of getting too touchy-feely, too pushy. She's seen the consequences of that before, too.

Still, at least there may be one tiny thing she can fix. "Baby?" she calls. "Go opaque."

Immediately all four cell walls go cloudy, then solid white. "Can you do that whenever Bruce asks, please?"

Yes, says the wall.

Molly gives him a little bit of a smile. "Bit better? She can do it so you can see out but no-one can see in, too, I think."

He glances up as she speaks, and stares as the walls change. For a long moment, he doesn't move.

And then his shoulders slump, and his eyes close, and the long breath sighed out sounds like relief.

'Thank you.'

"You're totally welcome." She smiles at him, bright as a star. "I guess this means I do still count as Security, if she's taking orders from me."

Which is just as well, really, or she might well have been stuck in here with him - not something either of them would appreciate.

"No idea what the sound-proofing's like, but I expect she could fix something."

'I can live without sound-proofing.'

He manages a real smile this time, small but definitely there.

'I'm not planning on doing anything that'll need it.'

Success! Maybe she can get some things about this right, after all.

Teasing, "Probably just as well." She isn't referring to what he probably thinks she is - the bar has two other rules besides 'no violence', after all. "But it's worth just asking her, if you do want something like that. It's not like you're in here for doing anything wrong, so she'll probably be nicer to you than she is to real rule-breakers."

'Something like...?'

Oh.

He shoots her a Look, but it's not altogether unamused.

'No need for that.'

"What?"

She is the most innocent mutant ever! She swears!

...Totally not teasing him. At all. Nope.

He raises an eyebrow at her, then lets it drop, and looks away. Teasing, he can cope with. But definitely not going to be drawn on this one.

'So, would you do a me a favour? Another one, I guess. Stick a note up to someone to drop by tomorrow, and see if I can get out?'

No guarantee he'll go, but it'll be reassuring to know the option's there.

Molly doesn't push it; she has no intention of going too far, not if she can help it.

"Sure," she says immediately. "Or I can let you out myself, if I'm in?"

OOM: Cell

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