lazyinlove | send me a postcard, drop me a line

[She looks up at that, and the only way to describe her expression is hurt. Logically, she knows it might be justified paranoia, considering the way their first meeting went, but she's at least been polite in most of their other interactions.]

I wouldn't hurt you, Stanley. Or Peace. [Her gaze drops, and she reaches out to brush her fingers against Peace's arm, smiling at her when she looks up.] You don't have to forgive me for what I did, but I hope you can believe that.

[For a guy who couldn't be fucked to bring any of his own stuff, but tenderly scooped up a toddler and ran with her, Stanley appears, at least outwardly, completely unaffected by witnessing this moment of vulnerability from Stephanie. Instead, he cants his head to the side slightly, pops another bit of licorice into his mouth, and considers her for a long moment.]

Yeah, you would. I don't think you will. Not over nothing. And that's kinda all I ever do, so I guess we'll be fine. But if you needed to, you would. Right?

[It's in that same eerily casual tone that he usually uses, even when discussing violent and horrible things. Some sort of emotional wall, slapped up every time things seem like they might become dicey. An analytical approach, sharp and aware in ways that he generally isn't, as a rule. Problem solving mode. Remove yourself from the situation, examine, and move forward, whatever that takes. Almost like a separate facet of his personality, something most likely developed as a defense mechanism.

Peace pushes her car up his arm, making the fine blond hairs there stand on end, but provoking no reaction more than a curious glance and an absent head pat from him. He's still focused on Stephanie.]

But I don't believe in vampires, or werewolves, or aliens, or any of this shit, anyway. Shows what I know.

[It's a smart answer, more observant than she'd given him credit for, and it reminds her of the promise Jesse got from her, that she'd stop him if he ever hurt anyone.

And she would. She'd hate herself for it, but she would.]

No, you're right. [She sounds tired; violence is too easy for her.] But I know I won't need to.

[It isn't a threat, just another observation in turn for his own. She can't picture Stanley doing anything that would require her to step in, unlike Jesse.]

You don't think you will.

[The markers come out now, and a faint frown forms on his face, all the way from the jawbone to the eyes. He's tired. Exhausted. Used up and abused even before the war, with none of the steel it takes to handle violence on this scale. Still too soft in the middle. But the set in his jaw is hard. It's a clench. His teeth are probably suffering from the grinding they've been getting lately. What's left of his teeth, anyway. He glares at the table for a moment, and pulls out the markers, even though they're for Peace.

The butcher paper becomes a sketching sheet, and a little animal takes shape. A squirrel, with empty eyes and full body armor. Some zombie knight, anthropomorphic style. Beside him, a beautiful girl starts to take shape. An angel, wielding a knife, smoking something out of an apple. He sighs.]

At least you can, if you need to. It sucks, but...but somebody should. Sucks to be you.

Better me than anyone else.

[She's already going to hell, right? That's what Saul said. She might as well take on whatever this role is, as well, to save getting blood on anyone else's hands.]

Do you think I'd ever need to?

[With him, she means.]

I'm cleaning crew.

[Just this once, he meets her eyes. It's probably the first time ever. He'd certainly never seen how bright they were until just now. She has such pretty eyes, for a moment he's confused. He gets lost in them. Sinks in deep, and loses his train of thought.

He has to shake it off physically, like a dog after a bath. This time, he makes sure not to look at her again.]

I mean, no. I don't think...it's not me. That you'd have to....I didn't even get a power. You know? I'm nothing.

...Like that. I'm nothing like that.

[That throws her off for a moment, unsure about what just happened there, but she recovers quicker than he does, focusing on what he said.

She wonders about the correction; if he really means it, or if he just doesn't want her to worry.]

People don't need a power to be a threat. [Not that she thinks he is, but still.] But I hope you're right, Stanley. Don't let this place turn you into something you're not.

[Like it has to her.

Or maybe she always had this inside her, and she just needed something to bring it out.]

I'm stupid, too.

[Conversationally, he says this. Casually. She's supposed to laugh. He can't laugh right now. His hands are still shaking. There are still dead things and broken angels floating around in his head. But it's supposed to lighten this awful shadow they've been cast in, breathless and miserable. He's breathless and miserable, anyway. Isn't she?]

I just want things to be okay. You know? So if I ever say anything else, it's not me. You can do what you have to,

[It's an ugly thing to say. A dead bird, laid at her feet like a morbid gift. But someone has to know. Because he's already seen way too much shit here, and he can't even pretend to believe that it will ever be alright. Someone has to fix it if it isn't. He might not trust Stephanie completely yet, but he trusts her with that. If someone has to rip out his throat someday, let it be her.]

[She doesn't laugh.

It's not funny, and it only makes her feel guilty for thinking it, how implying it in how she's treated him almost every time they've talked. But she doesn't know what to say, if he'd want an apology for that, or if she could even manage one.

She's never been very good at apologies.]

I know. [It's all she wants, too. At first she just wanted it for herself, for her mother, but now she wants to make sure no one has to fight any wars, that no children grow up like she did.] But I will.

[She wonders if this is what Bruce felt like, when Superman gave him kryptonite.

Except Clark is a grown man, and Stanley is still a kid.]

[He tries to take a breath, but he can't. It goes in thin and rushes out loudly, like a leaky tire. It's painful. Everything is painful these days, even something as simple as breathing. He glances up at her again, lost, but fighting. Fighting with all he's worth, pathetic as it may be. Useless as he knows he is.]

I'll try.

[He'll give it everything he has and more, in fact. He's no match for her, not even close. But it's important, And if she ever needs him, even for that...then all he can do is his best. That's what he has to give. It's all he has to give. But he will. His dull blue eyes, exhausted and empty, broke no argument. He'll try, Steph. With everything that's left in him, he'll try.]

[She drops her gaze back to Peace, because she feels as though she should give Stanley some privacy for... whatever this is, the painful drag of breath, the way he talks about himself. It's too familiar, and she thinks about herself, if her father's violence hadn't made her hard, before the rest of the world could wear her down.

She rubs her hand along Peace's back, getting her attention, and Steph's tone is gentle, light, but she means every word. And for all that she's smiling for Peace, there's something fragile and sad in the expression.]

Hey, sweetheart, you and Stanley have to take care of each other, okay? Do you think you can do that for him?

[She knows Peace won't really understand her, but the words are for Stanely, not the little girl.]

[When she says Stanley, Peace reaches for him instinctively and curls herself into his side. Usually when people say Stanley's name, something bad happens.

Stanley himself doesn't react, aside from wrapping an arm around Peace. He's too busy staring at the wall, trying to decide on a scale of one to ten how likely it is that he's just actually lost his goddamn mind, and isn't on the moon at all. It's resting at a low seven right now, not in favor.]

I'm not neglecting her.

I know you aren't.

[She's quick to reply, but she's also drawing back a little, getting ready to leave because she's not sure if she can keep having this conversation without losing her composure.]

That isn't what I meant.

[By what she said, she was just--

She doesn't know what she was doing, and maybe it was stupid, anyway.]

[Does she know? People don't seem to. He's heard so much shit about it that it's reflex to assume.

But Stephanie is uncomfortable now. And it makes him uncomfortable. When there's a woman in the room, he's not alright with holding any power cards. It makes him think of his family. It makes his stomach churn. He doesn't want her to agree with him, and he certainly doesn't want her to apologize.

He doesn't know what he wants, but whatever it is, it's not on the moon anyway. He drops his face into his hands for a moment, dizzy from all the conversational whiplash.]

Sorry, I...can I have a minute? Can you watch her?

[She's worried, but she nods without hesitation, because if nothing else, she owes him some kindness.]

Of course, take your time.

[She turns so she's sideways in her seat, facing Peace properly and drawing her attention to the markers, planning to show her how to draw on the paper to keep her distracted so that Stanley can leave without too much of a fuss.]

[He isn't sure where he wants to go, but he gets up anyway. He just needs a moment where no one tiny is clinging to him and looking for answers he doesn't have. Because he isn't neglecting her, but he doesn't know how to parent her either. He's not her parent, and he's not a good substitute. He shouldn't have brought her. He thought he'd been saving her, but he hasn't. It was just cruel. He'd known as soon as the bomb went off that he'd gotten it wrong, but by then it was too late. And now he's all she has, and he doesn't know how to be that to someone.

So he jumps up from the table, quickly enough to upset Peace as Stephanie had predicted. But he can't decide what to do next. He starts for the door, then stops, guilty and confused. Peace is crying again. He keeps making her cry. He keeps scaring her by...by what? Making her feel abandoned? Making her realize that she is alone?

It sits on his chest like a rock. He's panicking now, and he knows it. And he really, really can't do that. If he lets himself start that he might never be able to snap out of it. It's not fair to Peace, and it's not fair to Stephanie. And you know what? This isn't fair to him either, damn it. This is bullshit, and it's unfair. Nobody's getting anything good out of this. No one at all.

He kicks a trashcan, and yanks at his hair, and then he squeezes his eyes closed and takes deep breaths. In, out. In, out. Slowly. He can't just throw a tantrum. He's got responsibilities now. He opens his eyes again, starts back to the table to apologize to the girls, then stops again. His insides give a sudden heave and he doubles over the trash bin, giving up the finger paint sandwiches.

That's better, actually. The shaking eases off, the heavy feeling in his middle lets up, the panic dulls to a mild discomfort. And the rush of endorphins eases the embarrassment the situation causes. Maybe he was just sick, and he didn't notice it because there just wasn't time to pay attention to himself lately? Either way, it's a relief. He instantly feels so much better, that even as he spits to clear his mouth, he offers Stephanie a queasy smile.]

Thanks. Sorry. I uh, I meant to get out of the room for that.

[And he did, he realizes. Even if he hadn't been able to identify until it was too late why it was that he wanted to leave the room. But he's okay now, mostly. And Peace isn't crying. Sometimes she eats too fast, too, so she just scoots out of her seat and reaches up to pat Stanley's leg, the way he pats her back for her when she's ill. The gesture is kind of sweet, he decides. She's a good kid. And she deserves to be alive, no matter what anyone else says.]

[At first, she doesn't look at Stanley, bceause she's focused entirely on Peace, trying to reassure her with gentle words and a hand on her back. She's about to pull the girl into her lap when the kick to the trashcan distracts them both, drawing their attention to Stan.

Steph frowns, worried, but she's still trying to calm Peace down, since they're starting to draw looks from the rest of the cafeteria. But then there's the sound of retching and Peace is getting out of her seat to walk over to Stanley.]

It's fine.

[She gets up as well, moving to grab a mug, fill it with water, and bring it back for Stanley.]

You okay?

Think I might be sick.

[He admits, surprised to hear it come out of his mouth. It's the second time in 6 months if he is, and that's weird. He hasn't been sick since like seventh grade. Not besides a few sore throats and little things that only lasted a couple days and never even got him out of school.

Is it stress? Constantly changing environments? Hanging out with tiny germy people? He doesn't really know. But he accepts the water and chugs it, killing the whole mug in a couple gulps. Maybe he's dehydrated, too. That sucks. People are kind of staring.]

But that felt good. My stomach hurts less now.

[Steph scoops Peace up, settling her easily on her hip and bouncing a little on the balls of her feet to keep her amused while they watch Stanley drink.]

You should come to the clinic, we can check if you've picked up a big or anything, and Ashraf can give you a boost if it's just exhaustion. [Since... tiny child and teenage boy; she's sure he's not getting as much rest as he should.] It wouldn't be a bad idea to give Peace a check up, too, just to make sure she's doing okay.

[She thinks it's probably stress.]

[The clinic suggestion makes his nose crinkle comically, like a little kid getting ready to protest against having to drink some elderflower syrup or something. Nooooo, Stephanie, it's icky!

But he manages to bite back on the protest and nod instead. Fine, okay, whatever. If he has to. But there better not be shots involved. If someone says "oops it's time for your lunar immunity booster" he's getting the hell out of there. He just got his booster shots in the fall, and they were supposed to be the last ones the school ever made him get. No more, he's done. Keep the needles away from his ass from now on, thanks.]

[She doesn't miss that look, and it earns a quiet huff of a laugh, because it reminds her of so many little kids she's seen in Gotham and Africa.]

Don't worry, you can both have a lollipop once you're done.

[It's a light joke, easy, but it might be the first one she's really made around Stanley.]

[It's definitely the first time Stephanie's ever made a joke around him. It catches him completely off guard for a moment. Peace reaches over from where she is on Stephanie's hip and strokes Stanley's hair, trying to hum at him the way he does for her. She doesn't understand how it works, though, so it's more of a reassuring amusical buzzing, with accompanying pets.

But it makes him smile anyway. Alright, so he doesn't feel so hot. But the Batgirl doesn't want to murder him in his sleep anymore, and that baby he kidnapped during the most recent apocalypse is a fucking cutie. Even if half the ship just saw him upchuck, things could be a lot worse.]

Are the green ones apple or lime? Because I need to know what the worst case scenario is before I go in there, ya know?

Edited (No autocorrect it's a word I promise...) 2013-10-25 12:10 (UTC)

[That gesture is so cute it hurts, and something wobbles in Steph's smile, but she hides it by pressing a kiss to Peace's hair, shifting a little so the little girl can reach Stanley easier.]

Apple, we're not barbarians. [This is strange, joking around with a kid who just lost his lunch, who's a little bit terrified of her.] C'mon, let's go sit down before someone steals Peace's toys.

[Because clearly children's toys are in high demand.]

Good. Now that I don't have to take care of my teeth I could go for an apple sucker.

[He mumbles back, teasing quietly along with her now that the ball is rolling. He follows her lead, but stops to fill the mug with water again twice more, chugging both of those too before he sits down. His head goes back into his hands -the fluorescent lighting is pretty harsh- but he doesn't seem nearly as miserable as he was a few moments ago.]

Just no cinnamon. There was some in the oatmeal once and it gave her hives.

Losing a few teeth isn't an excuse to get lazy with the rest of 'em.

[She should know, more than a few of hers are fake, dental work helpfully paid for by Bruce Wayne.

Once she's seated again, she settles Peace between her and Stanley, handing her the markers again so she can keep scribbling on the butcher paper.]

I'll keep that in mind, we can probably start medical files for both of you, to keep track of things.

send me a postcard, drop me a line

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tl:dr and so much worse sorry ma'am

lmao it's okay

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