originalbeachboy | for brave_heart

[She's not stupid. It might not "ping", but she can see where he's wiggling around the spell.

Still, time to drop it. For now. Would he mind if she leaned up against him again?]

That must be nice.

[He doesn't object, at the least. He's a bit embarrassed more than anything else.]

Yes n' no. I got a bit numb, I guess. Stopped looking at the good too. Can't feel much of nothing when you're so damn mad all the time. That burned out some, so... that's where the practically comes in.

[See, he can't even do that half lie for long.]

[She'll stop if he wants. It wouldn't be hard to distract her, he could just ask for some of those promised snacks.]

The world becomes a horrible place and you don't want to deal with it anymore.

[Why hello there, voice of experience.]

So you keep screwing everything that ain't hate up, so the whole of you gets twisted into something unrecognisable.

[Experience shared, even if from very different angles.]

...Well kid, we're both trying to unfold that. I expect we're gonna end up with a lot of creases left if we ever get it done, maybe you can't ever really smooth out completely. But maybe we'll get there.

[She's quiet for a while. The "kid" got a smirk from her though.]

Every kind of experience leaves people with wrinkles eventually. Maybe we shouldn't be afraid of that.

If we're going to be philosophical, I need a drink.

[One water bottle of old-fashioned for him, one of sangria for her.]

Now you're talkin'!

[He casually falls backwards once he has his drink in hand- only to end up sitting on a bench made from himself. Odd to think that really it shouldn't actually make any difference in terms of comfort since technically he's still on his 'feet' but all the same he does it.

Room for her too naturally.]

I've always preferred the drink to the philosophy, tell yah the truth.

[But he indulges in the philosophy more often, because he can't help himself.]

[She takes off her satchel and puts it down before she sits.]

It is often easier to not think.

[Not that it's so easy to not think, even with the drinks. She's still giving it the old college try.]

So. My turn?

Ain't that the truth.

[He takes himself a heavy swig before only half looking her way.]

Only if you wanna spill.

[She sips more slowly, but has a healthy dose of liquid courage before she begins. This is not a happy story.]

So, it starts with my grandfather. He left when my dad was little. He gave my dad a magic ring and a warning as a going-away present. A ring that lets the wearer always see through lies and illusions, and a warning to not wear it too long because too much truth is hard to take.

And my dad kept it with him always. Grew up, got married, had me. And had a hole in his pocket. It landed where little baby Verity could grab it, so I did, and I swallowed it. The doctors never got it out, because the ring dissolved.

[Time for more wine.]

[Flint is not quite the degree of listener she is, being generally rather impatient. But he does his dues, silently listening with his head half turned to her and half towards the rapidly darkening city, that will soon brighten up artificially.]

And that's how you got yer power? Right from a baby?

Yup. I never had a chance.

[Another drink.]

I'm not sure when dad told mom, or if he ever did. He didn't tell me until he decided I was "old enough to handle the truth." Which was ten years after he left us. Mom's always been of the opinion that I should at least pretend to be okay. I know she loves me, but... I don't know if she doesn't understand or doesn't believe me. Either way.

I know they got divorced because of me. They both think that isn't true, but their fights almost always started out about me. How I was being difficult or mean because I didn't automatically buy into all those lies people tell kids. And it seemed like the rest of the world agreed with that assessment, so I just stopped trying after a while. If the world was going to be horrible, I'd just stay home.

Geeze.

[He drinks at the exact same moment she does, meaning she always has his full attention.]

I mean, I always hated being treated like I was dumb just 'cos I was a kid, but that's on another level. No wonder you locked yerself away from the rest of us jerks.

[He feels a profound sense of similarity- abandonment at a young age from the father certain it was their fault, a well meaning but ill equipped mother, an unwelcoming world. She retreated, he lashed out.]

You're not a jerk.

[In another life, she might have been one of those profoundly good people he spends so much time fighting. But in this one, she's ended up squarely in the Neutral Selfish center of the alignment chart.]

Lots of other people are jerks, but hiding didn't work.

[Yes he is, a great deal of the time to a great deal of people. Just not to her and like three other people max. So he lets it lay.]

You can run, but you can't hide. Always the way. So. Something musta happened, right?

[Otherwise, why would she even be talking to a bum like him?]

[Finally, a sign of a smile from her.]

I made a friend, and I realized I don't have to be lonely. It's actually kind of a funny story. My mom was on my case again about staying home alone all the time, and eventually guilted me into trying speed dating. Of all things, right? I figured it'd be a couple of hours and at least the drinks would be good. The night went about how I expected, and then Loki sat down and told me a story.

[He gets a small one of his own, the sly little ones that can either mean he's finding something nasty darkly funny or it's something sweet that makes his inner softness. It's kind of odd how close those two are in appearance.

It's the latter, this time. Mostly. Loki has a bad rep even among crooks, so it's kind of humorous to think he'd be a good influence. Then again... Look at him.]

Didn't think you was into stories.

I like true stories. And he's a really good storyteller.

He's not the same one, you know. He's a different Loki now. Younger, nicer.

[She's very protective of him, in her way.]

Would you believe I never met the guy?^*

[He shrugs lightly, taking a swig of his drink again.]

So I ain't really got room to judge. A fella's reputation can only tell yah so much.

((^*As far as the player knows at least! Watch this space.))

I have to admit, I am a little surprised there aren't monthly bad-guy meetings. How do you guys keep making teams if you don't hang out together?

[She's honestly curious about the second part.]

All sorts of ways. Put an ad in the paper once.

[Yes, they actually did.]

Wait. Seriously? And people showed up?

Loads of 'em. Most of 'em were useless or worse, but they came. We even set it up in the Baxter Building, caught the whole Fantastic Four before we held try-outs.

[He pinches the bridge of his nose in the way people only do when thinking about the most frustrating stupidity.]

I worked for years with a guy who called himself Paste-Pot Pete and he was the most competent guy in the room that day.

And the cops didn't break up the party?

[She takes a long drink.]

I'm really starting to regret the whole "paying taxes" part of being an adult.

None of the guys who showed up were wanted criminals, so couldn't do nothing about them. Dunno why they didn't come up for US though. Maybe we're that frightful.

[He shrugs widely.]

We had just taken down the FF. And Thundra and Tigra, 'cept she was called the werewoman at the time.

[Which, as anyone who knows the basics of linguistics knows, is stupid.]

Maybe they were waiting for someone with powers to show up?

[Yeah, that code name is giving her inner linguistics lover a minor fit.]

Definitely not buying a ticket to the policeman's ball this year.

for brave_heart_verity

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