OPERATION: YOUTHFUL DISOBEDIENCE

[stresstokens]

WHO: Members of the grand curfew-breaking plan!
WHEN: During the Moorecroft event.
WHERE: Various Moorecroft locales.
WHAT: A bunch of youths have gotten together to break curfew in tandem to get to the bottom of the mystery at heart of this place -- but what they find leads to more questions than answers.
NOTES\WARNINGS: Probable violence, death, emotional trauma, cursing. All the fun stuff! I'll be putting the log headers for pre/during/post-curfew breaking logs in the comments, so just hang tight while I do that, though all members are of course more than welcome to post their own logs if that suits their tagging style better.

Comments

[thinkerseven]

You got it. [ Lisa offers him a shitty mock-salute. ] One gargled coffee, coming right up.

[ No one's doing it like her. This time, when Lisa grins, it's not even a threat, although it is still a little self-satisfied. She does think she's very funny.

She turns to leave, but stops briefly when her back is turned, one hand pressed against the door. ]

Amy already sort of knows. She doesn't have both the names, but she has the idea. In case you were trying to go for leverage.

[ She doesn't wait to hear what Krouse has to say about that. Her power will fill in enough. Instead, she steps through the door, and then returns a few moments later with two styrofoam cups of reasonably hot coffee. She'll pass one to Krouse, and if he takes it, lean against the wall with her own. She's not going to push her luck with taking a seat. ]

[equivo]

[ Krouse's face is screwed up in faintly wry dubiousness when she stops, and wipes it clean off him. The flicker of muddled anger that follows disappears as quickly as his stab at ironic dismissal.

He's stuck to keeping Amy at arm's length from his friction with Tattletale. It's not much of a boundary, but he's been trying. Some of that might have to do with not being sure what side she'd land on, if she's pressed, but he'd like to believe most of it is sticking to his word.

But of course she assumes the worst of him. What does he expect?

His fingers don't brush hers when he takes the coffee. He considers switching it out with hers, but if he's thought about that, so has she. If he was her, and he wanted to be a pain in the ass, he'd just have spit in both of them anyway.

It's still slightly too hot to sip. He scalds his tongue, smoke and bitter coffee mixing unpleasantly. ]

I didn't realize you gave a shit what Amy thinks. Sleepover bonding going well, then?

[thinkerseven]

[ Of course she assumes the worst. The worst is pumped into her skull nearly every waking moment. Her power loves the worst. It gives her great tactical advantage. Really, it's Trickster's problem that he keeps taking it personally.

Lisa cradles her cup between two hands, letting the warmth relax the muscles in her fingers. She doesn't take a sip, but this display of brooding could rival Trickster's. ]

It's going peachy. [ It's going bad. ] And you're right, I don't give a shit about what Amy thinks. Or what you think, for the record.

[ She takes a sip. ]

I just like to keep tabs on who's got the information. You know how it is. Ideally, no one would know, but that's not how Echo wants to play the game. [ Lisa grins. ] I know the strategy, which is why I can't respect it.

[equivo]

[ She sounds as obnoxiously Teflon slick as ever, so he guesses she has that going for her.

If he could buy it, he'd have that going for him. But it's like he told her once, more or less. He's seen her fuck up, and he's seen her lie, and he has to deal with the unwelcomed discovery that there's a real beating heart (two sizes too small) buried under the ten thousand layers of bullshit.

It doesn't make him feel sorry for her. Everyone has some buried tragedy. Not everyone chooses to commit to making themselves an utter fucking nightmare every second of every day.

But whether he likes it or not, her fucking parasite-dollie had its way. He understands her better now. He knows things about her both of them wish he didn't.

She gives a shit what he thinks. She gives a shit what Amy thinks. And some tiny, wretched human frailty left over in the pit of snakes that writhes around in her skull wants someone to understand her. ]

I'm not telling anyone.

[ He says, voice grinding quietly, rusted hinges in an empty room. ]

Is that what you need to hear to stop talking about it, or do you need to go through the whole routine before you're good? Because me - I'm good.

[ Tight, slightly curled shoulders, lines of stress tension running from jaw to fingers, a hot, dull gnaw in his guts. He's good. Fucking copacetic. ]

[thinkerseven]

[ Lisa finally looks at him when he says he won't tell anyone. She wants to get all the information she can before she decides whether or not she can believe him - the rate at which he's blinking, his grip on the coffee cup, other tells that indicate lies.

There aren't any. Mostly what Lisa gets is that tension, dislike and irritation and just enough fear to make Lisa not feel completely hopeless. But no indicia of lies.

Once she gets what she needs, she turns away from him, not wanting to risk a migraine. She's exerted herself enough already. If she's lucky, and if she plays her cards right, it won't hit until she's back at the house. She gives a temple a little rub and takes another sip of coffee. That's the good-bad stuff. ]

Nah. I can tell when you're lying. [ Her smile is gone, and for once, it doesn't seem like it's going to come back anytime soon. Right now, cradling that cup of coffee with slumped shoulders, Lisa just looks tired. ] Appreciate it.

[ It's not a thank you. Not even close. But it's more than Trickster deserves, as if he'll accept this scrap of gratitude anyway. ]

I think I could go for some quiet, anyway. If that's cool.

[ She could go get that quiet somewhere else. Alone, shut up in a dark room, with a heating pad and a computer monitor to keep her company. All that and more is waiting for her back in Etraya. Here in Moorecroft, though, it's the bunk bed, and if there's one mask Lisa doesn't feel like putting on, it's that of the happy family member. ]

[equivo]

[ He's startled by the appreciation, even if it doesn't show in anything as blatant as a turned head or widened eyes. It's just a short pause at the top of an inhale, followed by a nod. ]

Yeah. Sure.

[ Me too, almost. It doesn't matter if he says it. She'll get it, one way or another. She's one of the few people who can, and isn't that the kicker?

So he nurses his coffee for a few minutes as it cools to tolerably drinkable, most of his tastebuds left shocked into insensibility for the time being. The ambient noises of the town pass over them uninterrupted. Cars cruising down the roads, the distant whisper of sprinklers, a lawnmower purring as it's walked back and forth across a square patch of uniform grass.

And here they are, floating at the edge of that false normality. It could be a lot of places. A lot of times. When he's not looking at her, she could be a lot of people. ]

...nice day out.

[thinkerseven]

[ She doesn't get it instantly. But the fact that Krouse could use the quiet trickles in as minutes pass, her powers drip-feeding her signs that all point to the same place. He doesn't hate this interaction as much as he's despised their other ones. It's almost nice to get the positive reinforcement. As Krouse listens to his surroundings, Lisa takes that in, quietly grateful that her powers aren't being the worst, for once.

She knows he's going to speak up a fraction of a second before he does it. It's still annoying when it happens. What kind of response does he expect? The second Lisa speaks, the illusion that it's anyone else standing adjacent to him will shatter. She can't be a stand-in for a teammate once she opens her mouth.

The scar that runs up her cheek doesn't hurt anymore. She still thinks about its message from time to time, a reminder that everyone would prefer it if she just shut the fuck up every time she looks in the mirror. A reminder that people need her talking, because how else would anything get done?

She's quiet for precisely the amount of time she has before it'll start pissing Trickster off, and no longer. ]

Yeah. It's always a nice day here.

[ That's kind of the point. Lisa doesn't sound especially excited about it, but she doesn't sound bitter, either. She wouldn't let Trickster hear that. But she does allow herself a touch of wistfulness. ]

[equivo]

[ One of the problems with being perpetually pissed off with someone is that it becomes a baseline expectation, and anything that becomes a baseline expectation becomes normal, and anything that becomes normal becomes something a person gets used to.

She'd be thrilled to know how often she crops up in his thoughts, his would-be - whatever it is she wants to be. Not an archnemesis, that's clear. Pain in the ass doesn't cover it either. Threat is too nebulous. A factor in his decision making. Whether she's physically hovering over his shoulder or not, she's there, and like a tree root growing around a skeleton, he's adjusted to her presence.

All of that to recognize that her dramatically stretched out pause is irritating, but not enough to really care about it. It could be worse. ]

TV weather.

[ His next sip of coffee comes with a wash of grit at the bottom. He rubs it against the roof of his mouth, tiny particles dissolving with friction. ]

You know. It never rains unless something dramatic is happened. Snows once a year for the holiday special. No drizzle, no slush, no overcasts.

Riz has a theory we're on a reality show. I don't think it's a serious one, but you never know. This could be going out to a live studio audience.

[thinkerseven]

[ That gets a laugh out of Lisa. It's not one he's heard before. It's not the laugh reserved for people long gone, but it's not the one she uses when she puts on a show, either. It's something in-between, still smug, but just a touch more genuine. ]

Once again, Riz is onto something. I pitched that to a guy on the network when I first got here, but he didn't believe me. [ Lisa shakes her head. ] Oh, well. Most people are morons.

[ When she talks about Riz, that genuineness doesn't go away. Whatever Trickster believes about her shriveled-up heart, she seems to at least have a passing fondness for that weird little goblin. ]

I think it feels that way on purpose. I mean, Echo's evaluating us. And who knows how many people Echo really is? With something so supposedly all-powerful, I bet personhood is a complicated concept for them.

[equivo]

[ He resents, on a general level, any time Lisa sounds less like a construct built in a lab to get under his skin and more like someone he could hold a conversation with for more than five minutes without wanting to strangle her.

It reminds him of before the division built up past salvaging, when he had no idea - and he should have fucking known - that the Undersiders were going to be the end of his small, fragile world. Lisa had a certain je ne sai fuck you he had thought he could respect, in a way. She seemed to know how much it was all a sort of sick joke. Just like she sounds now.

He's thinking of her as Lisa. It's not even her real goddamn name either. ]

You might be right.

[ That's more than he'd usually give, even if might is less than she probably feels entitled to. He rotates the cup in his hands, studying it with renewed intensity. ]

I've been thinking it could be something like the parasites. You know. The alien brain worms we evidently have. Amy gave me the crash course.

So if it is, hey. We're ahead of the curve. Our whole fucking lives were already reality TV for aliens.