driftfleet | 001 ✪ video/audio

Entry tags:

001 ✪ video/audio

Who: Jim Barnes
Broadcast: Fleetwide video + audio
Action: Iskaulit.
When: August 20th.

[ The video flicks on to a spacious room, spans it from left to right, then top to bottom. There's a door off to the right side, and the camera follows it to the adjoining room, similarly large. Again, left to right, top to bottom. Both rooms are spic and span, empty, with wooden floors. And then it switches to audio. The voice is brusque, but amiable, with a moderate Brooklyn drawl. ]

Nice place for a gym. There could be a dojo next door, so it's all in one place. I've got a few sandbags to hang up, and some mats we could use. There's a notice outside for schedules — I know a lot of you folks have been offering training. The room's big enough, and there's plenty more like it on this ship.

Anybody else interested?

[ Anyone wandering the Iskaulit or looking for Bucky after the broadcast will find him humming as he puts up the sandbags. He's dressed very simply in the ship's jumpsuit, with no left sleeve. The left arm whirs in tune as he works. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Even if she hadn't meant it, the ease of being able to talk to her like another human being is a novelty. Nobody wants Captain America here, or knows that it hangs over history and him and Steve like some terrible sword of Damocles. ]

That's not a problem.

[ The wistfulness of her voice stays with him, until he files it away for later examination. ]

We'd have to find the bars, get somethin' sturdy to hold 'em up... I wonder if there's blacksmiths in the Fleet, some of 'em have been asking for swords...

[Rogue shakes her head. The thought of that fuss being about something she wanted is kind of horrifying.]

Nah. Lookin' around, it's not a good idea. People'll want space ta spar, or ta -- heck, play basketball or somethin'. I can make do without. Maybe just... a chin-up bar on a stand or somethin'. That's somethin' other people can use too.

Sweetheart, [ gently, but very firm, ] if you're gonna stand around waitin' for something t'happen for ya, or to go right, it ain't til y'put it in motion. Don't be afraid of taking it.

[ Maybe he's overstepping his bounds, being so direct with her, but he figures he's earned it. After all, they're trying to be friends, aren't they? ]

It's not like you're asking for the moon, is it?

[Rogue's eyebrows quirk upward in a way that indicates a change in the weather, the wind picking up for a storm. She responds well to directness, except of course if it is about something she would rather not ever address. Another time, a few years early, and this conversation would take a very different turn.

Except of course, this was an issue Rogue was not all-too aware of in her life. It was an issue that correlated directly essentially the biggest wounds in her life, and all the things that still hurt her most. She was trying, trying so hard to learn to accept herself, to step forward and enjoy what she could, because she too was worthy of life.

That didn't mean it was easy. That didn't mean that a lifetime of destructive thought processes hadn't left deep furrows into her heart and soul. And it didn't make it any easier to hear that tendancy addressed, and by someone who she thought by no rights had any reason to know her so well.

(She doesn't realize, wouldn't like to hear, that some things about her are as easy to see as if peering through glass to someone who watches her closely. She is not used to most people observing her closely.)

A quick flash of temper follows all the same.]

I'm not askin' for anything. In fact, I'm tryin' ta backpeddle from askin' for somethin'. [Because you might have a point, in fact you might be completely right, but she has a point too.] It ain't fair ta take up this much space just for somethin' one person wants. So much as I appreciate the psychoanalysis--

[She breaks off there and runs one gloved hand through her hair, looking down and to the side on a low exhale. When she speaks again, her voice is low, gaze still fixed somewhere by his left foot.] --I'm tryin' ta do what's right here, Jim.

[What's right by everyone.]

[ He sees the shift happen, the hackles rise. Maybe this was the wrong direction, but the thing about taking steps forward — not all of them will be on firm ground. This feels a lot like quicksand, skidding on the surface of the water. Better learn to dance, quick, Barnes. ]

Not trying for psychoanalysis. [ his mouth thins, unhappily, but he continues on, evenly, ] I'm sayin', don't back-peddle. What's so wrong about a pair of uneven bars? You never know, other folks might want to learn or figure out how to use 'em too.

[ That help her feel like she's flying. God, his heart hurts for her. She's turned something she might need into something she thinks is a want, and letting it go because it's a want. It's not. There's a line, and he knows a need when he sees it. He's spent the past year grappling with his need for a friend. ]

As for space, look at the ship. There's a hundred rooms. The gym doesn't need to be just one.

[Funny. Tony had, right at the beginning. Give the man a stick and a sleeping polar bear, put them in a room, and see how long that polar bear stayed asleep. His reasons had changed, but his poking... hadn't.

Loki hadn't. It had been because he'd wanted her to go after what she wanted, even if it wasn't wise. It had been because he'd cared, in his own way. He'd gone after this part of her with a scalpel and laid it bare.

But when Jim says he hadn't meant to be psychoanalysis, she... believes him. Which is rare enough to slowly drag her gaze back to him, though her eyes are more shadowed, more guarded than he's ever seen.

Here's the thing about denying yourself what you want, what you need. It becomes a habit. A habit as simple as putting your gloves on in the morning.

Her mouth twitches on the sides as she tries to open it, to speak, to explain - but she doesn't have the words. After another moment the corner of her lips twitches up and she is able to offer Jim a pained smile and a truth carved from a guarded weakness. It is not, perhaps, the truest truth, or the second truest truth, but it is close to them.]

I appreciate what you're sayin, but... I'd probably be too self-conscious ta use 'em in a crowded place anyway. [A beat, a little more truth sacrificed. It sounds like an explanation, it is one in part, but it is a truth that stands on its own:] Hard ta let go when there are other folks around.

[And through this, she doesn't back away, doesn't deny him the right to speak to her or storm off. Open doors work both ways. She is uncomfortable, she does not like this at all, but she... respects it. It resonates.]

[ He has no other way to convince her but his words and his actions thus far — he hates shrinks. There's one in SHIELD assigned to him because of clearance and non-disclosure when all he wants to do is be able to tell Sam something other than "I had a bad day" or "I can't talk about it". They've developed a code, dead teammates, failed objectives, through gestures and facial expressions. No. He'd never shrink anyone. They can't tell left from right and they feel hollow like the rest of the new world he lives in. Besides. Why does he need one anyway? There's people out there who've killed less and suffered more for it. ]

[ His expression softens, worried for her. It doesn't need to be the truth. Just enough of something to believe in, that's good enough. ]

That's all right. You don't gotta. S'my job to worry, that's all. You wanna go look for a private room, or keep sittin' on it for a while 'til you're ready?

[Rogue's expression changes from strained to a soft surprise which morphs into something even lighter. She gives an incredulous laugh, brief and warm, and shakes her head.]

A private room. Seriously?

[Still smiling, she shakes her head.

His job to worry. What did that even mean?]

You're somethin' else, Jim. Never been cornered so politely before. You gonna tell me why it's your job ta worry?

[If he says 'because that's what friends do,' Rogue doesn't even know what she'll say. Probably just... concede helplessly.

Because she has been working on this whole... thing. And if it's out of the way, and there's not a better use for the resources, then well... it's something to consider, anyway.]

[ He's smiling, but his tone is gravely earnest, ]

Seriously. It's what friends do.

[ nailed it??? ]

[The last traces of her laughter faded, leaving behind something softer and far more sober.]

You do realize that open doors work both ways.

[Just how deep are you willing to go down this particular rabbit hole? Will you care if it means letting yourself be cared for in return?

It felt ridiculous, this reminder - ridiculous that wanting to be her friend would be something that anyone would want, especially if it entailed any sort of risk for them. Because if she gives you this, Jim, then... well, it's quite a bit, silly as it seems, to allow someone to push her this way.]

[ When he starts on something it goes all the way, no matter how terrifying or painful. He said he'd follow a kid from Brooklyn to the jaws of death, and he did. ]

Yeah, I'm not so good at that, [ the smile is painfully self-aware, and it fades to a grimace quickly. ] I'm willing to learn, sweetheart, but it's gonna take a while. Ain't no use teaching an old dog new tricks.

[She could say a lot of things to that, about trust and how necessary it is for breathing, about hearts and how they expand, about age and how she doesn't think he has over a thousand beat, but... she won't. There doesn't seem to be much of a point to it. Willing to learn, willing to try is enough (at least as long as it is backed up by action. words are air with sound, it's what a person does that matters).

So Rogue meets his gaze and smiles a little, soft and wry with appreciation and finely honed pain.

Almost, she just wants to reach out and poke his shoulder, do something to make that grimace fade. She won't, because he doesn't Know (yet), and to invade someone's space without them knowing the risk is something else she won't do.]

C'mon. [Still with that soft smile, the wryness increasing slightly as she shakes her head.] I'll let ya take me on a tour an' see if we can find a private room.

[And I'll hold ya to it.]

[ True, she can say a lot of things, but each step from now is one more forward; that's good enough. All he can do when she reaches out is try to be honest — and good. ]

Well, if the lady insists.

[ He winks at her, and skirts her personal space, gesturing that she should come with him. ]

[Even though Jim is currently pushing her, he's never pushed her on the personal space front. It's interesting, especially since she's not told him anything about it... She doesn't dwell on the realization, however, simply notes it, wonders, and files it away.

She shakes her head at his theatrics, still smiling faintly, and follows.]

[ The Iskaulit, for lack of a better word, is big. Hallways lead off to more hallways, the walls cleaned of the blood and debris that they'd found when they'd first boarded the ship. It's eerie, and mostly empty at this time of day. The only sound is their footsteps, and the echo of others murmuring as they do their own exploration. ]

Find anything your speed yet?

[A noncommittal sound of thought at his question.

Rogue was starting to realize that her half-formed hope that Jim would forget why he was exploring the ship with her was poorly founded.]

Maybe. The ship's construction's kinda weird, isn't it? It's like... there's somethin' about it nudgin' at the back of my mind that's just a bit off.

[Almost like she's in a hive or an anthill or something...]

[ Very poorly founded. Sorry Rogue, but he grew up with Steve, there's no one as capable of making him back off. ]

Yeah, aliens built it, so I figure it'd feel weird to the rest of us.

[Well, she wouldn't have offered if she hadn't meant it.

...didn't mean that she wasn't gonna put it off a bit, though.

She gave him a sidelong look.]

Look at you, sayin' that all casually. Talkn' about being on a ship built by aliens the same way you'd talk about baseball.

[ He chuckles. ]

It's magic that really makes my head spin.

Yeah?

[Curiosity, but a touch of caution too. When she thinks of magic, she can't help but think of... someone she really shouldn't be thinking of anymore.]

All this, [ he waves his hand, over the walls ] we used to read about. The House of the Future, Car of the Future... you know Jules Verne, don't ya? Dreamin' a'goin' to the moon... but magic? [ shaking his head ] Wavin' your hands and setting something on fire? I've seen it and I still don't believe it. S'gotta be some kinda science.

[That make Rogue laugh, just a little, in quiet appreciation.]

Guess that depends who you're talkin' to - an' what ya mean by science. I know some people who'd say it's one an' the same... an' some people who'd say it's one an' the same plus more.

[A shrug.] Real magic? That's straight outta my league. But it's the same as everythin' else, really. [As beautiful and terrible and amazing and versatile as it was.] It's just a tool, an' ya gotta deal with what it leaves behind.

[ Don't break his brain, Rogue. ]

Yeah, Thor'll probably have more'n a few words for me if he heard me say that. [ he lifts a shoulder, and shrugs ] Maybe it'll rest easier some day.

[Wait, what?]

Thor?

[She knew he'd... gone forward in time, but... she hadn't known the whole thing happened for him. She'd tried not to think about it, actually, since she knew so much more about at least one of those timelines than was fair.]

[ See this is what happens when he relaxes around someone. He frowns at her. ]

Yeah I — went forward in time and ended up with the Avengers. Long story short. Six of us: Iron Man, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Thor, Hulk, and me. Fought off an alien invasion to break us all in.

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[ action ] OUCH, JIM

[ action ] she started it

[ action ] she... would deny this, but she's not that good of a liar

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