[ We don't know he's dead is what Plas wants to believe. What maybe, naively, he'd hoped she might say, or that she might at least have some idea he didn't so that he could keep nourishing that little flame of possibility for as long as he could. But no, she's stomped on it. So he won't help her pretend now. ]
I'm not playing games here. We're shapeshifters. For God's sake, you get to be anyone you wanna be, you get an opportunity to reinvent with a gang of people who doesn't know you from Adam, and you're gonna let somebody else, some ghost, dictate what mask you're gonna wear?
[ Maybe this isn't the time or place to have that conversation, but it's the way she says it. Some lesson learned. Fuck lessons learned, sometimes lessons are shitty and should be unlearned. In a way, Plas has always experienced his power as some kind of attempt to be someone completely different, in his attempt at redemption. Maybe Oscar Wilde has it right: Give a man a mask, and he will tell you the truth. ]
Don't you think that's disrespectful to Aang? To Parker? Aizawa and the rest?
[Whatever thoughts she had about carefully playing this out are a little pointless now, but that doesn't mean she's completely losing herself in the argument. She doesn't point out that the ghost she's carrying is her own, she doesn't need to say that she's already reinvented herself a dozen times and it never works out. Max is angry, but she's rarely careless.]
This is as good as it gets! [Now she gestures, a rough sweep of her hand to indicate herself.] This is a reinvention. Whatever you think I am, I guarantee the reality is far worse.
[She has been different here; she hasn't slept with a single person! Or murdered anyone! It's been great, but she doesn't believe that she can be a real person again. It doesn't mean she can let go of all her masks. Not the way he seems to want.]
[ Oh, Max. But he doesn't think that she's anything terrible. Just, maybe your garden variety of crime boss. When compared with the likes of the Joker, Lex Luther, and Darkseid, it's nothing at all. Terrible in an ordinary but scummy sort of way.
To say that to her would be an insult, and he's delivered enough of those tonight. The edge that made him want to figuratively kneecap her fades a little bit. Plas does believe she's genuinely trying.
Not that it helps much right now. Not that he wants to argue this with her any longer. He's just #done. ]
Fine. You don't have any answers for me. You don't know any better than I do what we should do now, even though we've lost half our crew by this point. You're just gonna keep on keeping on.
[It feels unfair that he gets to start a fight and then decide that they're suddenly done with it. That he gets to pull the plug on this when she's still in the mood to throw something at him. He upset her and called her out
She wants to say something awful, she wants to lay all of their failure at his feet to make him stew in it, but she knows there might be no coming back from that. And no matter how angry she is, she can't fuck this up that badly. Instead, she buries it back down, lets her shoulders drop in an imitation of defeat, of exhaustion. Show a little bit of humanity, to mollify him.]
I think we should leave this city, that's my answer. There's nothing here for us except danger, maybe there's something left out there that hasn't been destroyed. But I'm not their leader, and neither are you. [It isn't delivered harshly, even if she wants to, it's just a reminder of a fact.] They didn't ask us to save them.
[ Everything about their situation is unfair, so why not this, too? But it wouldn't have been anything new if she'd turned it back on him. He's used to taking a lot of flack without room or opportunity to ever dish it in return. But not from someone so like him. It's one thing to endure the judgment of Wally West, knowing Wally was a better man than he'd ever be. It's another to spar with someone whose house is just as glass as yours.
And anyway— it is his failure. This would never happen to Batman, or the the big blue boy scout. Certainly never to Wonder Woman. They're not dependent on a team to be a functional superhero on an apocalyptic scale.
The anger's packed away pretty quickly, tension draining from the angles of his face and leaving lines behind. Tired, and for a second, a little old. ]
That's not how this works.
[ For him, anyway. He couldn't lead them out of a paper bag, and yet if they're dead, isn't that on him? Isn't this all he's good for? Protecting people? But something went wrong. He's fallen down on the job. ]
[She watches the exhaustion in his expression and almost laughs, in a desperate sort of way; what a pair they make. He's far too expressive, everything written in his body, the shape of it, the fluidity, while she may as well be carved from stone.]
I know.
[Most people haven't asked Max to save them, they have their superheroes, after all. It's never mattered to her whether people asked, there's always been something selfish in her. If she helps enough people, does it undo all the terrible things she's done?
Max takes a breath, steadying, and straightens herself up a little. She misses her wardrobe from home, another layer of armor, another mask.]
Think of me what you will, but don't pretend you don't need me for what I am. [Always what, never who. And there's no anger in this, it's all buried under the surface, now she just sounds as tired as he looks.] No matter what happens, I won't break. And I'll always do what people need me to do. Just ask Julian.
[She doesn't think anyone else here could have done what she did, to carve away the infection. This is the point of the ice queen, to be so cold that nothing hurts her. The others might crack, might give up, but she won't falter, not while someone still needs her.]
[ No one should ever mistake that expressiveness, that fluidity, for weakness. Least of all her. Stone doesn't adapt. Stone cracks. Even where you can't see. He doesn't shrug off punches from Superman by being too hard to break. ]
I do need you. [ There's no pain in that admission. If he thought he could do it alone, he would. But give him some credit for a little self-reflection. ] I'm no Beyoncé, I'm no good without the rest of Destiny's Child. But you can't do it without me, either.
[ He knows bait when he sees it, punches below the belt. Whatever she's done to Julian, at Julian's request, no doubt it'll be obvious. ]
I'll let you know if I find anyone.
[ Peace out, Max, this conversation should probably die here before they say something they really regret. ]
[She bites her tongue on a fuck you, on an of course we need you, on anything she wants to say that rings too close to the truth or too much like an admission. No need to point out that he's the one who called her a sociopath, or accused her of playing one, at least.
In the end, Max doesn't say anything at all. Good luck would ring too hollow after this, everything else is too cruel. The best she can do is hold her head high while she watches him leave, waits until he's out the door to snatch up the closest thing that isn't nailed down (a mug, with the dregs of terrible coffee). There's a satisfying shatter when it hits the wall.]
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no subject
I'm not playing games here. We're shapeshifters. For God's sake, you get to be anyone you wanna be, you get an opportunity to reinvent with a gang of people who doesn't know you from Adam, and you're gonna let somebody else, some ghost, dictate what mask you're gonna wear?
[ Maybe this isn't the time or place to have that conversation, but it's the way she says it. Some lesson learned. Fuck lessons learned, sometimes lessons are shitty and should be unlearned. In a way, Plas has always experienced his power as some kind of attempt to be someone completely different, in his attempt at redemption. Maybe Oscar Wilde has it right: Give a man a mask, and he will tell you the truth. ]
Don't you think that's disrespectful to Aang? To Parker? Aizawa and the rest?
no subject
This is as good as it gets! [Now she gestures, a rough sweep of her hand to indicate herself.] This is a reinvention. Whatever you think I am, I guarantee the reality is far worse.
[She has been different here; she hasn't slept with a single person! Or murdered anyone! It's been great, but she doesn't believe that she can be a real person again. It doesn't mean she can let go of all her masks. Not the way he seems to want.]
no subject
To say that to her would be an insult, and he's delivered enough of those tonight. The edge that made him want to figuratively kneecap her fades a little bit. Plas does believe she's genuinely trying.
Not that it helps much right now. Not that he wants to argue this with her any longer. He's just #done. ]
Fine. You don't have any answers for me. You don't know any better than I do what we should do now, even though we've lost half our crew by this point. You're just gonna keep on keeping on.
no subject
She wants to say something awful, she wants to lay all of their failure at his feet to make him stew in it, but she knows there might be no coming back from that. And no matter how angry she is, she can't fuck this up that badly. Instead, she buries it back down, lets her shoulders drop in an imitation of defeat, of exhaustion. Show a little bit of humanity, to mollify him.]
I think we should leave this city, that's my answer. There's nothing here for us except danger, maybe there's something left out there that hasn't been destroyed. But I'm not their leader, and neither are you. [It isn't delivered harshly, even if she wants to, it's just a reminder of a fact.] They didn't ask us to save them.
no subject
And anyway— it is his failure. This would never happen to Batman, or the the big blue boy scout. Certainly never to Wonder Woman. They're not dependent on a team to be a functional superhero on an apocalyptic scale.
The anger's packed away pretty quickly, tension draining from the angles of his face and leaving lines behind. Tired, and for a second, a little old. ]
That's not how this works.
[ For him, anyway. He couldn't lead them out of a paper bag, and yet if they're dead, isn't that on him? Isn't this all he's good for? Protecting people? But something went wrong. He's fallen down on the job. ]
no subject
I know.
[Most people haven't asked Max to save them, they have their superheroes, after all. It's never mattered to her whether people asked, there's always been something selfish in her. If she helps enough people, does it undo all the terrible things she's done?
Max takes a breath, steadying, and straightens herself up a little. She misses her wardrobe from home, another layer of armor, another mask.]
Think of me what you will, but don't pretend you don't need me for what I am. [Always what, never who. And there's no anger in this, it's all buried under the surface, now she just sounds as tired as he looks.] No matter what happens, I won't break. And I'll always do what people need me to do. Just ask Julian.
[She doesn't think anyone else here could have done what she did, to carve away the infection. This is the point of the ice queen, to be so cold that nothing hurts her. The others might crack, might give up, but she won't falter, not while someone still needs her.]
no subject
I do need you. [ There's no pain in that admission. If he thought he could do it alone, he would. But give him some credit for a little self-reflection. ] I'm no Beyoncé, I'm no good without the rest of Destiny's Child. But you can't do it without me, either.
[ He knows bait when he sees it, punches below the belt. Whatever she's done to Julian, at Julian's request, no doubt it'll be obvious. ]
I'll let you know if I find anyone.
[ Peace out, Max, this conversation should probably die here before they say something they really regret. ]
no subject
In the end, Max doesn't say anything at all. Good luck would ring too hollow after this, everything else is too cruel. The best she can do is hold her head high while she watches him leave, waits until he's out the door to snatch up the closest thing that isn't nailed down (a mug, with the dregs of terrible coffee). There's a satisfying shatter when it hits the wall.]