[Closed-ish] and here's the flipside

[theroadwarrior]

Who: Max Rockatansky (still 22... for a bit...) and you.
Broadcast: n/a
Action: Iskaulit, Starstruck, etc.
When: the days before the 8th. Follow-up to his first post. It may also involve threads after Max reverts back, to keep things all together.

Max slowly reverts back to his old ways -- and it's terrifying.

Warnings for mental illness, PTSD, and the situations that may arise from them! There will be top comments for different people inside; if you're interested in tagging into this with Max as he reverts back to older!Max, hit me up via PP on plurk or PM, and we can flesh something out!)

Comments

[namisan]

Nightmares? Or just insomnia?

[Her gaze is overly watchful for a stranger tbh, but it's overlaid with sympathy, and she digs into the paper bag, pulling a bottle half out.]

You wanna talk about it over a drink? I could let us back in again.

[theroadcop]

[He breathes in deep, breathes out.

Gives her a solemn nod.]

That'd be real nice of you, much appreciated, honestly.

But... Yeah. Nightmares. Insomnia. Both? I don't know.

Nightmares are making me one, maybe. Insomniac pacing the halls. I've had my share of bad dreams, but never like this. I guess -- I was here before. Wasn't I?

[He looks up at her, uncertain.]

You knew it, didn't you?

[namisan]

Yeah.

[She's not gonna lie about it. It's not her style, and he wouldn't appreciate it anyway, all things considered.]

The shortest answer to what's going on with you is likely the jackasses that brought us here are messing with your head. You were here-- the older you. And then all of a sudden, you were young again. But up here-- [She taps her forehead--] Subconsciously, you're trying to remember who you were.

It's a mess. And it's a mean trick to pull.

[Especially here, because the differences between younger Max and his current self are so painfully vast. If she were to take a guess, there's nothing in his future self to look forward to.]

[theroadcop]

[He's disturbed, deeply so, of course. Same as he'd been when Beverly had told him everything. How can he not be? Apparently he was older, that much he knows. And that there's something horribly off about him, also such a clear thing. He ducks his head a little, thoughtful. Concerned.]

And you knew this other me, did you?

Who is he, exactly? The old one, who is he?

[namisan]

[She's quiet. There's reluctance, but there's also where does she start. What she does in the end is stand up, taking a few steps toward the bar before turning back to him. C'mon, we'll talk on the way. You'll need a drink for this.]

Before I tell you, let me know something so I know where to start. [Because he's way too easygoing for the kind of environment she knows the other Max is used to.] What kind of place do you live in?

[theroadcop]

[He follows with all the uncertainty in the world, but...

What else does he do? Run and hide from it? Despite his every compulsion to do that, he purses his lips and follows.]

M'from a pretty rough world. Lotta' wars, lotta' destruction.

But people've been rebuilding best they can — trying to keep the cities functioning, keep the crime down. Keep the world some semblance of itself.

[namisan]

[Okay, good. That means at least she doesn't have to say everything is destroyed. She's pretty sure the world isn't as bad as it is in older Max's time, especially given Furiosa's speech about it not so long ago, but nothing she has to say now will be terribly horrifying.

...not with regard to his world, anyway. Max himself is a different story.]

All right. [She opens up the door to the Space Bar and ushers him in, heading for the bar.] Older you is a lot quieter and doesn't like people as much. I don't know what happened to make you that way. [Small mercies.] Maybe something big happens, or maybe that constant fighting to keep things going wears you down. A couple decades can change people a lot.

[It can't be the case, that gentler suggestion. Max freaks out at the smallest unexpected provocation and refuses to give his name. But she offers it nonetheless. A large part of her wishes Max could stay this age and not have to go through everything again.]

[theroadcop]

[He stares quietly at her for a moment. The same icy feeling that Beverly caused sits heavy in his stomach. He's terrified once more to ask, but. But — the uncertainty is painful. He swallows hard, wandering in with a sort of caution reserved usually for the older Max.]

... What've I told you? The other me.

[namisan]

Precious little. Like I said, you don't talk much. I'm not sure if you even like me, though I think that's mostly just...you being antisocial. [She doesn't take it personally.]

I know that you don't want to be here, because this place is so much nicer than home, and you're not used to it. And I know you don't want to let your guard down. [...she smiles, a little unhappily.] It took me saving your ass to even earn a name.

[theroadcop]

[He's quiet, watching her move. The things she's telling him is... not good. None of it's any good. And he tries his damnedest to not let it completely tear him down. Surely there's some mistake. Maybe they can fix this. He doesn't want to be this man others have told him about. He doesn't want to be this older, weathered Max.

He stands there, frozen by the thoughts in his head, and looks a bit desperate.]

What about my wife and boy?

[You know.

Those people you clearly know about.]

[namisan]

[The look she gives him is so surprised, so frozen for a moment, before breaking down by degrees into an upset kind of understanding.

He has a wife and child. Had, probably, because the difference between the two is so distinct and she can't see that the older Max would let anyone close to him and the loss of a family would do so much to explain--

--she's jumping to conclusions. Maybe that's not the case. But--

She breathes out, finally, giving him a soft answer. She wishes she had a better one for him.]

You've never mentioned them.

[theroadcop]

[He can't bring himself to reply at first. Why wouldn't he have mentioned them? The possibilities, all grim, spiral through his mind. There's a terrible sickness in his stomach and a buzzing in his ears, and it's only when she moves does he break out of that shell-shocked silence to sit down. It's mechanical, smoothly robotic, and he rubs his palms across the sides of his head.

This bar counter sure looks interesting, doesn't it.

They'll be okay. He was but a rough, secretive person. Maybe his job made him colder than he used to be, more angry. But he remembers a little, remembers the world. He doesn't remember his family in them. Denial seems to be the best choice, but it's harder and harder to hold onto.]

[namisan]

[Nami says nothing more. Not now. He's struggling with it; she can see that.

After long moments, she puts a glass down gently in front of him. Whiskey.]