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Good morning Keeliai, how are we all today?

[Steph is sitting at her console, leaning back in her chair with her legs propped up on the desk. She's smiling, and for those that know her, it's the sort of smile that should be extremely concerning. Those that don't know her may also be feeling like they're about to hear something they don't want to.

She is going to be a terrible person today.]

I'm going to preface this message by saying that anyone under the age of 16, or whatever the age of legality is where you're from, should tune out now, please and thank you. I'm not gonna be explicit or anything, but it's probably not going to be appropriate for kids. [she gives a pointed look, yes you, Damian, switch off the computer now.]

I was taking an anthropology class back home, and my professor happens to be here too. [she wrinkles her nose, like yes, I know that's super weird, how do you think I feel?] And he's been giving me assignments and stuff, because apparently being kidnapped by a giant turtle isn't a valid excuse not to keep up with coursework. The topic we'd been studying before I got brought here was human sexuality, and Professor Craig suggested I write a paper on kedan sexuality instead. [Hi Bruce.] Except, uh, after the last couple weeks, I'm not really keen on that idea.

But I have been thinking about all these people with superpowers running around, and like - we've got comics back home, right? But they tend to focus on the whole defeating supervillains and stopping alien invasions side of things, which is great, sure, I love a good action story, but there's something that just never really comes up.

[she looks directly at the camera, the very picture of scientific curiosity] Do they - or, do you, for the superpowered people in the audience - ever use their powers for sex? This isn't a rhetorical question, by the way, if you have used your powers in the bedroom, feel free to share with the class.

And in the interest of not excluding anyone from the conversation, anyone who's just a regular old human, or whathaveyou, you can discuss what sort of powers you'd like to have, and how you'd use them to impress the gender-of-your-preference.

Don't feel like you have to respond directly to me, you're more than welcome to talk amongst yourselves. I figured we could use a little lighthearted chat to take our minds off the situation. Don't you agree?

[She winks, clearly trying not to laugh, and sits back in her chair to wait for responses]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That's not why I'm doing this! [Why isn't there a reset button for conversations?]

[Fuck it, she's just going to be honest. Trying to be tactful and subtle just made things worse] I don't care how you act around him. I care that you got defensive about a really specific thing and I'm trying to tell you that you don't need to worry.

[god she can't look at him.

she feels awful.]

What are you even talking about?

[oh no.

no, no, no, no--]

When I said I know that vibe? I meant I learnt it the hard way.

[she feels a little like she's going to throw up, but she wants him to understand]

And I know how to pay attention to people I care about.

[she's so sorry]

[nope nope nope they are not having this conversation.]

Dude, Steph, look, whatever you're thinking just-- stop, all right?

[did she just admit she was abused he actually

honestly doesn't know what the fuck this conversation is any more and he doesn't want to know. or think about it at all. or. anything.

because reasons.]

[She just watches him for a long moment, before sighing and pushing a hand through her hair]

Okay.

[Okay, she won't push it.

She just doesn't know what to do now]

[He stares back with all the subtlety and grace and emotional good health of a rabbit cornered by half a dozen angry dogs.

Which is to say: NONE AT ALL.]

Look, I gotta--

[> be Brandon
> turn and head for the door without finishing your sentence.]

Brandon. [She steps forward like she's going to try to grab his hand, stops herself, but follows him to the door anyway]

I'm sorry. I didn't mean-- [she doesn't know] I'm just sorry.

[She's trying hard not to think about what she just admitted

God why did she do that.]

[It's the tone of her voice that stops him, however briefly. He has one hand on the door to push it open.]

What do you even want from me? You want me to admit it? Yeah. Sure. Fine. My manager liked kids way too much. It went on for months, my Mom didn't believe me, and one day he--

[he chokes on what he wants to say.]

And I pretty much fucking melted him with electricity. There. Story over. Are we done?

[There is so much hurt and anger in his voice, but it's coldly distant. He might as well be telling a story about someone else.]

[Oh god. She flinches when he chokes on the words, she knows that feeling too well]

No. [It's an answer to his first questions, said in a quiet voice] I wasn't trying to make you admit anything.

[And then she's at a loss for words. She hates herself so much right now, for bringing it up, for continuing to push the subejct, for not just letting him leave.

But she has to say something, she owes it to him]

I'm sorry, Brandon. I-- You can leave. I don't want you to, but... if you do. You can.

[she won't try to stop him again]

[If he keeps staring at the door he's going to punch a hole through it, and he doesn't exactly relish the idea of broken knuckles, so he turns back to face her and presses his shoulders against it instead.]

You weren't trying to make me admit anything? You pushed me into it right from the start! Oh, that poor reporter guy, guess you should be nice to him so everybody can fucking get along. Bullshit you weren't trying to box me into a corner about this. Why did you--

[oops god fuck he's crying now]

Why the fuck did you have to push me? It's not important, it doesn't mean jack shit about who I am and I can't--

[he had his opportunity to leave and didn't take it. now he just slides down the door until he's hugging his knees. Picture of misery, thy name is.]

I can't take it back.

[god only knows if he's talking about the fact that it happened in the first place or the fact that he's telling her about it now.]

I'm not very good at this.

[She says it quietly as she walks over to him, moves to kneel down beside him, keeping a little distance so that she's not crowding him. Everything about this breaks her heart, and there's so much she wants to say, but she feels like an explanation needs to be the first]

I was trying to let you know there was nothing to worry about without having to bring anything like this into it. But I fucked it up, and I'm sorry.

[One thing down, even if she thinks he probably won't believe her]

And I know. I know it doesn't and I know you can't. It's not your fault.

[None of it]

Don't. Just-- don't.

[His tone is very flat, and you can bet he scrambled away from her about as far as he could get. He rubs the back of his hand across his cheeks, smudging away the tears.]

Sorry.

[She moves back a little, rests her hands in her lap and tries not to look like she's fighting back tears. This isn't about her.]

Do you want me to go? [regardless of the fact it's her suite; she can leave and give him some space, rather than making him go home like this]

[He sucks air in through bared teeth and tilts his head back against the door so he can focus on one spot on the ceiling.]

Jesus, Steph. I wanted-- I wanted one part of my life that wasn't touched by this.

[His voice is back to being choked. Holding back more tears? Maybe just a little.]

You don't have to leave. It's-- fine.

[Sometimes she's not sure if they'll ever get that, to be able to close off parts of their life from it.

But she's pretty sure he doesn't need to hear that.]

I'm sorry. [She knows she's said it about ten times now; she just doesn't know how to stop saying it] I should've kept my mouth shut.

[It's amazing how often she thinks that.]

Is there-- Can I do anything? [She doesn't really know what she means. Just... anything to change how this is right now.]

No clue.

[He pulls his knees against his chest and rests his chin on his folded arms.]

[God this is worse than seeing Clancy's corpse and knowing it was her fault, at least she had something else to focus on, to distract herself from the guilt.

She really wants to hit something. Maybe Cass will spar with her later. For now she just clenches her fists and tries to work out what to say to make this better.]

How badly have I fucked this up? [That's probably not going to make anything better, but she needs to ask]

I don't know, all right! I don't-- I don't fucking know. Why would you--

[goddamnit he hates this dry-mouthed, half-hysterical crying bullshit]

Why would you even want to be with someone this fucked up?

[Okay, okay, deep breaths, Brown.

This, she thinks she can do.]

Because it doesn't change how I feel about you.

[It should.

He almost says it, but stops at the last. Because even though it should, he doesn't want it to.]

God can we just not talk about this any more?

Okay.

[Steph is just - going to move so that she's lying on her back on the floor.

Yes the whole suite is kind of made out of rock, yes it's hard, no she doesn't care.

She huffs out a breath] So. How about that local sports team. [her voice is completely flat, she can't even try for the joke.]

[He snorts.]

They suck. No one is surprised.

That one player is pretty good at getting points.

[Okay.

Making fun of sports and small talk.

She's not entirely sure what they're doing but at least no one is crying.]

And getting benched. But I blame the ref on that one. Man, talk about bad calls.

[He has no idea how to deal with this. So what is he doing? Not dealing with it.

At least his breathing has evened out.]

That sure was... a... thing... [a beat] Okay, we've officially hit the limit on my knowledge of sports.

[what now?] Can I get you a coffee or something?

[operation Pretend This Never Happened is go]

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... annnd back into trigger territory

Re: ... annnd back into trigger territory

... annnd back into trigger territory

and out! for now........

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