thephix | (exsilium) ic contact

[She's going to elaborate on the text judgement.

Not at first, of course, but she's rising from her spot on the couch - where she's drafing up a business plan for Jules' little endeavour - as soon as she hears the door open. Maurice trots over to the door first, greeting Donny with a happy bark, but Max made sure he's calm enough that there won't be any jumping.

Max waits until Donny is properly inside to fix him with a look that says more than any actual words could, especially with the way her gaze goes to his broken nose.]

( The door clips shut, and he pulls the bag of ice away from his face. At least he's been able to keep the ice more ice-y than slushy. )

Hi.

( At least there isn't still the mess of blood from before. Donny lets his bag of training stuff slide to the ground, before he raises his hand in an awkward wave. )

H-how are you?

Fine.

[It doesn't really matter, not when she's more concerned with walking over to Donny, gently holding his jaw between her thumb and forefinger so that she can tilt his head to inspect the break.]

Is it a clean break?

[It looks it, but she wants to be sure.]

( The bruising around his eyes was hidden by his mask, but after leaving the safe house without it, he'd gotten a couple of comments from passers by that he'd tried not to listen to. )

Y-yup. There w-wasn't any um, c-clear fluid, and with the ice it d-didn't bleed too long. M-my n-neck feels fine, there's n-no um, numbness or changes in vision.

( Going through the mental checklist of things Marissa taught him to look out for. He's not sure if she made him go over this stuff entirely for other patients or for emergency self-diagnosis. )

I'll still b-be um, p-pretty.

( So much self-mockery. )

[Satisfied with her own inspection and his diagnosis of the break, she releases him and takes a step back, resting her hand on Maurice's head and giving Donny room to move about the apartment.

At the joke, she rolls her eyes.]

I suppose there's nothing wrong with a little roguish charm. [Which is the sort of look that comes from having a rehealed nose.] Can I get you anything?

[He's the medic, but she can help if he needs it.]

I d-don't think the b-bone is um, w-wonky.

( And that's a professional medical opinion right there. )

Is there any ice-cream?

( he sounds like he has a cold, with how his nose is swollen up, forcing him to breathe through his mouth. )

You should still have it looked at.

[Occasionally she has to fuss over him, because he won' take care of himself properly.

But there's ice cream, at least.]

Do you want some right now?

[Just checking, as she starts towards the kitchen.]

( Shaking his head to that and the ice cream, just plodding to the sofa and flopping down on it, head elevated on the arm.

Later.

( His dignity is so wounded. )

[Maurice looks like he's about to consider clambering up on Donny, so Max guides him to the bed instead, sitting cross legged on top of the covers with Maurice's head in her lap. Fortunately ("fortuantely") the apartment is small enough that she can still easily carry on a conversation with Donny.]

What happened?

[It seems to be just the broken nose, so it likely wasn't a proper fight, but she's also not sure who'd hit him hard enough to break his nose in a simple spar.]

( Long story short: )

I'm n-not focused enough.

( A little muffled by his hand, holding the ice in place. He pulls it away so he can talk, for a few moments. )

C-caught a sword b-between m-my hands and I g-got-- I was stupid.

( Full scale frustration with himself, right there. He was so stupid. )

I'm m-messing up Atlas.

( That was what happened, and he's incredibly angry with himself )

[It must have been a spar, then, because otherwise he would have just detroyed a sword rather than wasting time catching it. She also hasn't seen many Exiles running around with swords, and there aren't too many serious fights amongst the Transports.

The rest of what he says is more important, and she's quiet for a moment, turning it over in her head and deciding on a response. She considers going to sit beside him on the sofa, but giving him space seems like the best option for the moment.]

Have you messed up Atlas before today?

[She finds that sometimes the best way to deal with these moods of his is to lay all the facts out neatly and get him to realize the way he's being irrational.

It doesn't always work, but she doesn't need him doubting himself more than he already does, so she's going to try everything until he stops this line of thought.]

( Expression twisting painfully, he nods. )

I've-- b-being around everyone here. And-- l-like he's a w-way t-to-- to m-make friends.

( Atlas: the new Facebook. ) Atlas is m-meant to p-protect people, and help. Not make friends.

( The reasons and opportunities for him to work with people outside Max's influence were small, at home. He might converse with people and be friendly, but rare were the times he saw the same people over and over. When he did see them, it was strictly business, professional. There were no cookies or impromptu visits involved. No getting too pleased with progress in training. )

[Oh, Adonis.

She leans forward a little, so that she can look at him better, hoping that he'll meet her gaze.]

They don't have to be mutually exclusive.

[For all her jealousy, mostly she's been glad to see that Donny has been making friends in Exsilium, as if it might soften the blow of them being so far away from home, as if it might soften the blow of her. He's so isolated, at home, and she knows that isn't good for a person.

She's noticed him becoming more relaxed in the city, and had figured the fact he was being more social in general, finding more people he was able to "talk" to, was partly responsible.

She doesn't want him to lose that.]

It's not your normal way of operating, but it just means you have to adapt to this. Find a balance between your friends and your focus, it's not impossible, you just haven't had to do it before now.

[He doesn't have to go back to isolating himself.]

Atlas--

( People like Atlas better. He has more friends than Donny; Donny has a collection of people he's intimidated by. ) And I c-can't t-talk to them.

( The people Atlas speaks to and that Donny likes, he can't speak to them because they only know Atlas. To know Adonis would compromise it. He's not sure what's worse; not having friends, or having friends who don't know who really exists behind the mask, who wouldn't have seen him, might not have wanted to fight alongside him. )

W-what's your n-new um, b-balance?

( If they are talking about changing their behaviour, adapting? What is it Max has to do? Some part of him is angry with her for saying "you have to adapt," because he feels like he's exhausted. )

You could.

[Gently, even if she knows he won't ever believe that, because he has so little faith that people might actually like Donny. As if the person behind Atlas is somehow so terrible that his friends would stop being his friends because of it.

She wonders what they might think of that train of thought, because there's something almost insulting in it, but she decides not to point that out.

Instead, she gives him a slightly arch look, as if to wonder what on Earth she has to do with his problems with Atlas, but it can't hurt to answer.]

I'm opening a store.

[With a nod to the papers all over the desk, the organization that's involved in that. It's a balance because it's legitimate, it's something honest instead of taking the often easier, criminal route.

Maybe it's not exactly what he means, but she doesn't know what else to say. She doesn't need to find a new balance, not really.]

( Donny shakes his head. ) P-people-- people have expectations.

( Of him, of Atlas. They cannot be reconciled. She deals in expectations, doesn't she?

That's not what he meant. He's not really sure what he meant, something about doing things differently for her, personally. And that almost makes him laugh, a little: hoping Max would be forthcoming about something private, personal. It made him foolish and it made him kind of a jerk, because who is he to demand something like that from her?

He sighs, shrugs a little, a kind of that's cool gesture. Presumably it's something smart, innovative and likely lucrative.

"I'm trying to be happy," or "I'm doing something for myself" was a bit of a stretch. He's not sure a store could cover that, but maybe it would take her a little of the way there. )

D-do you have-- h-have friends?

( More gentle, careful. His tone suggests she doesn't have to answer. )

That doesn't mean anything.

[There's nothing about Donny that would change whatever people expect of him. It never made a difference to her, the boy underneath the mask, and while she knows it might to some people, she assumes he's sensible enough to choose friends who wouldn't think that Donny underminds Atlas.

He gets himself too twisted up over this, and it's pointless.

At the question, she just looks a little incredulous, as if the question is something of a surprise.

Does she have friends?

Why would be bother to ask a question he already knows the answer to?]

I'm not looking for friends.

[Despite everything, her tone is gentler with that, to make sure he knows that it's not a judgement. Just because she personally isn't trying to make friends doesn't mean it's wrong of him to. They're just different.]

( A look, because surely she is the last person who should say expectations mean nothing, when she takes advantage of them at all opportunity and twist them to her favour. )

N-no, b-but--- ( Breathe. )

You have a n-network, at home. P-people who you c-can c--c-count on.

( A shrug, though it jostles his shoulders, neck, and the jarring feels really unpleasant right now. He used enough to being silent through pain that he makes no sound, although he does grimace a little. )

Forget it.

( Sighed, more than spoken. He's not good at this, not good at dealing with her, apparently. He wants to just go and curl up next to her, but that seems like a bad decision, too, after the other day, and all the barbs in those poems are worse, because he's just read and re-read them to try and make sense of it and why he's hurting so badly all the time. It's not her fault; he just wishes that what he already knew hadn't been given voice, and that he hadn't made such a fool of himself. )

[It's starting to frustrate her more than it would back home, the way that he won't just say things, twisting everything up inside himself instead. She knows there's no point pushing, that trying to drag words and explanations out of him will just make things worse.]

Donny.

[Adonis, but it's always a careful choice whether to use the nickname or his proper name, and being gentler is more important right now.]

Whatever happened today, remember it, learn from it, and don't let it happen again, but you don't have to give up the friends you've made as Atlas because of it.

[She wants to tell him that he's gotten better, with his powers and with just... himself in general, but she isn't sure how it would go down. If she does say it, she'll have to word it carefully.]

( Sometimes, he feels so tired of being isolated. Maybe that was why he was so hopeless when it came to Max, because she was like a life raft. There more others, now, the ones that knew Atlas, but Max would always come first. Not simply because she was the first, but because she was Max and thought sometimes that he helped her, too. If he tried to pin down and pick apart the reasons he adores her so much, they'd probably sound ridiculous, selfish, bad things to list. Max is simply inexplicable and wonderful and terrible in so many combinations and variations.

He's tired of knowing that he's stupid enough to be in love with her when she knows she doesn't feel the same way, and knowing it makes it harder for them to be friends or colleagues or whatever it is they actually are, especially when they need each other so much more, here. )

Using Atlas f-for stuff like, um. Stuff that isn't helping p-people, it seems--

( Wrong? Selfish? It reminds him of the things that Break and Phasar might do. ) Like home. I d-don't want t-to, uh, to g-get on the wrong track.

( Said more carefully, less fire turned inward on himself. )

Stop.

[It's said gently, softly, rather than a harsh reprimand like it could be. He needs to stop overthinking all this, stop twisting himself up with guilt and self-doubt.

She doesn't say anything else for a moment, because she's crossing over to him, sitting on the edge of the couch and very, very carefully resting her fingers against his jaw. She doesn't want to jostle him, just wants to make sure that he's paying attention, actually listening instead of getting too tangled up in his own thoughts.]

You're not on the wrong track. [Just saying that first, since it's important.] Friendships can be an advantage, not a disadvantage. You don't have to feel guilty for it.

[She wonders if he'll call her a hypocrite, when she's so determined about not making connections like that, but what's true for one person isn't true for another.

And it seems clear to her that he's doing a little better, with the friendships he's made here.]

( Donny shifts so there's a little more room on the sofa for her. His gaze drops lower, evasive for a few moments before he looks up at her. Friendship can be an advantage, she says as if she didn't try to avoid friendships and attachments at all costs. They're different people, the two of them. They've lived such different lives, and he wonders if the only thing they have in common sometimes is the desire to help people and their magic; if it's his sister trying to tear them apart through their dreams. )

Are w-we friends?

( It's almost easier than trying to wrap his head around all the positive things she says, to absorb them, because they go so far against the grain that it feels uncomfortable to listen to, sometimes. )

[It's not a fair question, and he's just changing the topic, but she feels like she owes him an answer to this, if she wants him to believe anything else she says.

The problem is whether to be honest or to tell him what he wants to hear. Things are getting too complicated between them, too tangled up, and she knows that she should be trying to fix that. They rely on each other too much, they're too close, but it's hard to pull back when he's all she has, here, when she's got his memories in her head and he knows more about her than anyone else does.

Her hand drops to his chest, resting lightly against his collarbone.]

I don't know.

[Honesty then, but she meets his gaze at least, letting him see the confusion in the furrow of her brow, her mouth twisting a little ruefully.

She doesn't know what's involved in friendships. It's never bothered her, but it means she doesn't know how to answer that question.]

( They're both so ridiculous, aren't they? Lost and unknowing. )

B-but um, I'm n-not your employee.

( not just that. This is so complex and confusing, when things have gotten all torn up. She doesn't love him, they aren't friends, not really, he doesn't work for her in the same way he used to. )

We m-make everything c-confusing.

( a fraction of a smile at her confusion, though he's not sure what to do with the contact.)

No.

[To the first comment, that he's not her employee, because sometimes it feels like he never really was. Atlas would do what she asked him to, but he was never with her the way others were, he was tangled up with her in different ways.

She returns his smile, putting some amusement into it, for his sake.]

We do, I'm sure Marissa would have something to say to us.

[Not that Marissa ever really addressed the topic of Donny, but sometimes she'd fix Max with a look that made it clear she knew how fucked up things were.]

suddenly: ackshun

permackshun

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