"What do you mean, what's the story? We met in that place before, that infernal cruise ship."
She's dodging the question, she knows. But she's not sure of the etiquette to be discussing this at the same time as she's trying to encourage Hawkeye to think not all hope is lost.
"Anyway, you've got a very easy path to success when you remeet. Be your usual self, just refrain from bringing sex up in any possible way unless he clearly does first. Keep that off the table for now, and he'll know you like the conversation as well as his body. There, I've bestowed upon you divine wisdom."
"And I need to brush my teeth twice a day and wash behind my ears, thank you mother," he'd gotten that far at least, "but you'll need to pick between 'my usual self' and 'not bringing up sex'."
Hawk knows what kind of animal he is. Speaking of, now he's looking pretty intently at Fever.
"So what, you just met and you're on kissing terms?"
"Did I come over here to console you or to get quizzed? You do need to be more clear next time."
She gestures with her free hand, but it's all theatrics.
"No, that's not the case. It..." One breath. "Fine. Whatever questions you've been storing up since that day, ask them. I know 'what's the story' isn't the only one."
"I'm not storing up questions," he raises both hands in mock-surrender, "you can kiss whoever you want. You're the one who got defensive. Just intellectual curiosity."
And maybe they look good kissing, that's just an observation he's keeping for himself.
She's about to reply that she's not defensive, except that's exactly the sort of thing a defensive person would say. So Fever shuts her mouth, and starts over.
"As I said. It was back on the ship. Phil'd been there a lot longer than me, when I arrived - I noticed him, knew his name, a bit of who he was close to. Everyone was in everyone's business, it felt like, or at the least we were clustered together in such a way that it felt like it. Then after a point, after one of the myriad terrors we were made to go through, Phil and I started talking. And I found out the same as you, that he's a great person, that I wanted to talk to him more."
Someone she wanted to spar with, to laugh with, to watch fly as if he was one with the sky. To be his friend, regardless of desire's presence or absence. And then Phil had reached in to show her how he could dispel her magic, and cracked her open somehow in the process. She doesn't know how else to describe it other than a hand coming to clasp another and holding on. Someone who said, I know.
"So, we kept on. Into such terms as you witnessed."
Her expression has shifted, and she doesn't realize it. From the feigned outrage down into something quieter, more true. Not quite smiling, but not somber.
It's interesting. Fever is usually pretty upfront about everything, not bashful or demure. The real hesitancy she shows is... obviously he wants to dig more, 'such terms as I witnessed and just that?'
But this isn't the army, as he's been reminded. Crassness and bluntness may have been fine talking with Trapper, but this is his friend talking about someone she very clearly cares about.
So he eases off.
"It was a good talk, until I ruined it," he offers, "it was the most and least I felt homesick since I got here. Has this way of getting you to open up."
"Yeah," she agrees, glancing at her mug, her lips finally tugging back up into a smile. "Could have warned you. Kind enough to break your heart." Unless, unless, it was already built utterly wrong. Warped. Cold. "He's dangerous like that."
It's not the sex that holds Fever back from speaking. It's that she knows well enough she doesn't really have a word for where they stand. That though they had wordlessly affirmed it on the Stag Beetle, she's hesitant to put a specific name to a thing where the wrong word could mean giving Hawkeye the wrong impression.
"...I'm very glad he made it here. He's someone I was hoping survived. That's the actual story."
"I'll say," he agrees to the comment about Phil being dangerous, which is the closest he's coming to commenting on Phil's build again. Where do they make people like that.
Anyway.
There's a moments pause again, and Hawk asks-
"Do you want me to ease off him? Just- say the word, no questions asked, if... you know. Not like I have to have him for my dance card."
Fever shakes her head to that, looking back up at him.
"If you like Phil, go ahead. You don't need my blessing for it - we're obviously not 'I for thee and thee for me', after all. It'd be strange for me to be jealous."
Nothing feels amiss thinking about it. She begrudges no lover of hers whoever else they seek out, for nothing was implied that she should, no bond or pledge that asked such a commitment. That both of the others in this case happen to know her? She can vouch for each of their characters.
"And you're also proving you have excellent taste."
"Of course I do. I'm going out with you, aren't I?"
He does have some charms, buried somewhere in him. But more than anything, the understanding eases his heart, in the way it seems to keep being eased here. No begrudging, no secrecy, no jealousy, no getting slapped, no fake stories about being married or engaged, just people doing as they want. Following where their heart and other organs lead.
"Y'know, this is the first time I've ever had to have that conversation with a woman about a man?" he notes.
He gets a little laugh at the compliment. It feels comfortable, to be able to sit and discuss this with him. But it's also a feeling she can't name that Hawk'd ask at all in the first place, be willing to move away even though she doesn't control Phil nor who he might pursue. Paying respect to a feeling that could have been there. It's a feeling that would make Fever want to kiss him, if she wasn't enjoying the conversation and wine this much.
"No, I didn't know that. What about with a woman about a woman?"
"If any of the nurses were going around with other nurses, I didn't know about it. Or at least, they didn't tell me about it."
Probably a good idea considering the time and place.
"And not with a man about a man either, to be clear. Wasn't a lot of talking about our same sex liasons back home. The less talking the better, actually. I uh- don't know what it's like for you back home, but where I'm from, the government isn't a very big fan of sodomy."
Her eyebrow raises, the confusion quick to spread across her face.
"The government? The only people who really care about who's in whose bed in that sense would be...I don't know, nobles who care about their bloodlines."
Beyond that, people were with who they chose. Why in the Nine Hells would the government be caring about what people did like that?
"I'm beginning to think the world I come from is weird. Feels like everyone I talk is from somewhere with magic or homosexual tolerance or something. Except Watson," thanks Watson for making him feel normal.
"Don't get me wrong, I miss home, but- whenever I talk to Tayrey it's all 'what do you mean they force you to be there', 'what do you mean officers don't get booted if they don't do their jobs'. And then-" he winces, pinching at the bridge of his nose.
"The ship with all the bugs, and then the ship with all the skeletons, and the star monster things, and- somehow I'm the only one not keeping up with all of it."
"First of all, don't take Tayrey's home as an example of a place that isn't weird. No non-weird place comes up with a society so based around contracts and being offput if a friend wants to give you a gift. Not surprised she doesn't understand that wars don't ask your opinion before you're involved."
Just to get that out of the way. But the rest, she sips her wine before she replies, clearly thinking over her words before she says them.
"I think...you might be the only one acting normal then, Hawk. And that's if you really are the only one. Me, I've been managing and adapting to whatever gets thrown in my way since the moment I woke up with a hole in my head. But that's not something I expect everyone else to be able to." She shrugs. "I just do it because I have to."
Her and those like her aren't enviable models of imitation. They just change, because it's asked of them. There's nothing they can do to avert that.
"Just as long as you don't tip over to my side of things, and actually go nuts in the process."
Is she joking? Her smile doesn't say. But she has wine, and an endless supply of nigh painless barbs to slide under her own skin.
"I'll tell you a secret. Some parts of this place are deeply confusing and strange to me, too. Things that other people seem to be taking in so much stride, as given." Things that are stranger to her than a cursed ship full of bugs, or monsters. "I keep reminding myself we're here because things need to be fixed. Of course some parts are going to be absolutely bizarre."
"I tipped over some time during my first session of meatball surgery. My buddy Sidney- the psychiatrist I've mentioned- would cover his ears sometimes when I talked so he didn't have to hospitalize me."
Can't be required to mandatorily report if you just don't hear it.
"The part where even if you decided to quit your job tomorrow no one will take the food from your plate is definitely making the list. Getting flooded out by bugs - that's not something that should be happening even if your world has magic in it. That I get to sit here with you, passing time as I like, and not be feeling like I'm waiting for the next disaster to hit, or for something to find me in my sleep."
Her mug's empty at this point, so it's a good excuse to look away, focus on the bottle and neatly pouring another serving while she speaks again. Her expression doesn't waver, tone still light.
"That Mortanne decided I deserved to be dredged up from the Beyond in the first place."
Settling back in her prior position, turned towards him, she's comfortable again.
Ah, they've already reached this point in the evening, where they both make lighthearted jokes about things that are absolutely not suitable for joking about.
"No bombs, no surprise wake-up calls at all hours" he agrees, "weird number of kids who still willingly sign up to fight though, seems like that's inescapable."
A small huff so he doesn't say something regrettable about her last joke. Opting instead to meet it in kind with-
"Tell me about it. She'll need to bring me back a second time if my dad's heard I've kicked the bucket. I keep imagining him paddling to Korea in a canoe to shake me back to life by the collar."
And as they are bound by the sacred oath of Sharing Jokes, she can't follow up on that. He offers his mug out for her to refill along with hers.
The refill is given, the joke met with that smile that they both know isn't a smile at all. Just because she can't respond doesn't mean she can't see the shape of it and know, but if he's offering her a veil of plausible deniability, she'll extend the same.
"Don't get me wrong. Just because I called it bizarre that it comes with no looming dread, that doesn't mean I don't like getting to spend time with you. In fact, I'm rather fond of doing so."
It's not late enough to fully dive into that particular lake, to make jokes about her insomnia or how people seem so ready to care, hands extended outwards. Meant to be helpful. It's not like she can quip about how her job has a much lower kill count than before. Not this early, with this little alcohol in her veins. And even then, maybe not.
"I might have gotten tossed about by many things I had no say in, but so far, here I am, right? I got a fairer hand than I expected, getting to meet you."
Others as well. But they're not the one she's currently looking at.
He's not expecting her to circle back around to the moment of sentimentality. Mostly because that's just the way these talks go. Trapper would lie there next to him and tell him he was important to him, and then they'd go back to talking about the bad food or patients in post-op. No denying it, but no lingering on it either.
"You're not so bad yourself," he offers back, before another mouthful of wine. He's still getting shit-faced, sentiments or not.
"You're smart, and you're funny, and you're strong where it counts. If all the people I hit on in hot springs turn out to be as great as you, I'm going to end up a happy man."
Oh, naturally. There was no way this was all ending without them both at least half drunk, if not more, to soothe the pains of extreme awkwardness around a man you like. The sweet words - even if she can't wholeheartedly bask in their warmth, she takes them, folds them up with the rest. A chest in her soul, filled with things people say, affection that doesn't fit right on her but nevertheless she longs to keep.
"You're on course for that. Trust me. Phil's better."
In many, many ways. But this isn't a conversation about what lurks under the glow of talking about someone she cares for.
"I've got to run away from work one day and go back there - we've been so busy, putting the town back together." Could she go on her day off, yes, but what is that in comparison to the delights of getting away with something you shouldn't. "Can I claim you told me to?"
"Promise? I'll never forgive you if you get my hopes up and dash them."
Of course, if someone's critically in need that day, that's different. They'll need his care. But sending stones exist, so a quick message would be all that's needed.
"My cooking is merely passable, but you can't really mess up a sandwich."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
She's dodging the question, she knows. But she's not sure of the etiquette to be discussing this at the same time as she's trying to encourage Hawkeye to think not all hope is lost.
"Anyway, you've got a very easy path to success when you remeet. Be your usual self, just refrain from bringing sex up in any possible way unless he clearly does first. Keep that off the table for now, and he'll know you like the conversation as well as his body. There, I've bestowed upon you divine wisdom."
no subject
Hawk knows what kind of animal he is. Speaking of, now he's looking pretty intently at Fever.
"So what, you just met and you're on kissing terms?"
no subject
She gestures with her free hand, but it's all theatrics.
"No, that's not the case. It..." One breath. "Fine. Whatever questions you've been storing up since that day, ask them. I know 'what's the story' isn't the only one."
no subject
And maybe they look good kissing, that's just an observation he's keeping for himself.
no subject
"As I said. It was back on the ship. Phil'd been there a lot longer than me, when I arrived - I noticed him, knew his name, a bit of who he was close to. Everyone was in everyone's business, it felt like, or at the least we were clustered together in such a way that it felt like it. Then after a point, after one of the myriad terrors we were made to go through, Phil and I started talking. And I found out the same as you, that he's a great person, that I wanted to talk to him more."
Someone she wanted to spar with, to laugh with, to watch fly as if he was one with the sky. To be his friend, regardless of desire's presence or absence. And then Phil had reached in to show her how he could dispel her magic, and cracked her open somehow in the process. She doesn't know how else to describe it other than a hand coming to clasp another and holding on. Someone who said, I know.
"So, we kept on. Into such terms as you witnessed."
Her expression has shifted, and she doesn't realize it. From the feigned outrage down into something quieter, more true. Not quite smiling, but not somber.
no subject
But this isn't the army, as he's been reminded. Crassness and bluntness may have been fine talking with Trapper, but this is his friend talking about someone she very clearly cares about.
So he eases off.
"It was a good talk, until I ruined it," he offers, "it was the most and least I felt homesick since I got here. Has this way of getting you to open up."
no subject
It's not the sex that holds Fever back from speaking. It's that she knows well enough she doesn't really have a word for where they stand. That though they had wordlessly affirmed it on the Stag Beetle, she's hesitant to put a specific name to a thing where the wrong word could mean giving Hawkeye the wrong impression.
"...I'm very glad he made it here. He's someone I was hoping survived. That's the actual story."
no subject
Anyway.
There's a moments pause again, and Hawk asks-
"Do you want me to ease off him? Just- say the word, no questions asked, if... you know. Not like I have to have him for my dance card."
no subject
"If you like Phil, go ahead. You don't need my blessing for it - we're obviously not 'I for thee and thee for me', after all. It'd be strange for me to be jealous."
Nothing feels amiss thinking about it. She begrudges no lover of hers whoever else they seek out, for nothing was implied that she should, no bond or pledge that asked such a commitment. That both of the others in this case happen to know her? She can vouch for each of their characters.
"And you're also proving you have excellent taste."
no subject
He does have some charms, buried somewhere in him. But more than anything, the understanding eases his heart, in the way it seems to keep being eased here. No begrudging, no secrecy, no jealousy, no getting slapped, no fake stories about being married or engaged, just people doing as they want. Following where their heart and other organs lead.
"Y'know, this is the first time I've ever had to have that conversation with a woman about a man?" he notes.
no subject
"No, I didn't know that. What about with a woman about a woman?"
It's very possible, in her view.
no subject
"If any of the nurses were going around with other nurses, I didn't know about it. Or at least, they didn't tell me about it."
Probably a good idea considering the time and place.
"And not with a man about a man either, to be clear. Wasn't a lot of talking about our same sex liasons back home. The less talking the better, actually. I uh- don't know what it's like for you back home, but where I'm from, the government isn't a very big fan of sodomy."
no subject
"The government? The only people who really care about who's in whose bed in that sense would be...I don't know, nobles who care about their bloodlines."
Beyond that, people were with who they chose. Why in the Nine Hells would the government be caring about what people did like that?
no subject
"I'm beginning to think the world I come from is weird. Feels like everyone I talk is from somewhere with magic or homosexual tolerance or something. Except Watson," thanks Watson for making him feel normal.
"Don't get me wrong, I miss home, but- whenever I talk to Tayrey it's all 'what do you mean they force you to be there', 'what do you mean officers don't get booted if they don't do their jobs'. And then-" he winces, pinching at the bridge of his nose.
"The ship with all the bugs, and then the ship with all the skeletons, and the star monster things, and- somehow I'm the only one not keeping up with all of it."
no subject
Just to get that out of the way. But the rest, she sips her wine before she replies, clearly thinking over her words before she says them.
"I think...you might be the only one acting normal then, Hawk. And that's if you really are the only one. Me, I've been managing and adapting to whatever gets thrown in my way since the moment I woke up with a hole in my head. But that's not something I expect everyone else to be able to." She shrugs. "I just do it because I have to."
Her and those like her aren't enviable models of imitation. They just change, because it's asked of them. There's nothing they can do to avert that.
no subject
Now where has he heard this tune before. He blows a breath out through his lips, looking up at the ceiling.
"So... just the same as back home, then. Go nuts so you don't go nuts. Do what has to be done. Good to know I'm not handling it wrong."
no subject
Is she joking? Her smile doesn't say. But she has wine, and an endless supply of nigh painless barbs to slide under her own skin.
"I'll tell you a secret. Some parts of this place are deeply confusing and strange to me, too. Things that other people seem to be taking in so much stride, as given." Things that are stranger to her than a cursed ship full of bugs, or monsters. "I keep reminding myself we're here because things need to be fixed. Of course some parts are going to be absolutely bizarre."
cw reference to psychiatric hospitalization
Can't be required to mandatorily report if you just don't hear it.
Another quiet huff.
"Oh yeah? Like what?"
no subject
Her mug's empty at this point, so it's a good excuse to look away, focus on the bottle and neatly pouring another serving while she speaks again. Her expression doesn't waver, tone still light.
"That Mortanne decided I deserved to be dredged up from the Beyond in the first place."
Settling back in her prior position, turned towards him, she's comfortable again.
"To name a few things."
no subject
"No bombs, no surprise wake-up calls at all hours" he agrees, "weird number of kids who still willingly sign up to fight though, seems like that's inescapable."
A small huff so he doesn't say something regrettable about her last joke. Opting instead to meet it in kind with-
"Tell me about it. She'll need to bring me back a second time if my dad's heard I've kicked the bucket. I keep imagining him paddling to Korea in a canoe to shake me back to life by the collar."
And as they are bound by the sacred oath of Sharing Jokes, she can't follow up on that. He offers his mug out for her to refill along with hers.
no subject
"Don't get me wrong. Just because I called it bizarre that it comes with no looming dread, that doesn't mean I don't like getting to spend time with you. In fact, I'm rather fond of doing so."
It's not late enough to fully dive into that particular lake, to make jokes about her insomnia or how people seem so ready to care, hands extended outwards. Meant to be helpful. It's not like she can quip about how her job has a much lower kill count than before. Not this early, with this little alcohol in her veins. And even then, maybe not.
"I might have gotten tossed about by many things I had no say in, but so far, here I am, right? I got a fairer hand than I expected, getting to meet you."
Others as well. But they're not the one she's currently looking at.
no subject
"You're not so bad yourself," he offers back, before another mouthful of wine. He's still getting shit-faced, sentiments or not.
"You're smart, and you're funny, and you're strong where it counts. If all the people I hit on in hot springs turn out to be as great as you, I'm going to end up a happy man."
no subject
"You're on course for that. Trust me. Phil's better."
In many, many ways. But this isn't a conversation about what lurks under the glow of talking about someone she cares for.
"I've got to run away from work one day and go back there - we've been so busy, putting the town back together." Could she go on her day off, yes, but what is that in comparison to the delights of getting away with something you shouldn't. "Can I claim you told me to?"
no subject
"Town hall won't collapse if you sneak away?" he asks with a grin like he doesn't mind if it does.
"We can make a day of it. Drag out a picnic. If you're playing hookey you may as well do it properly."
no subject
Of course, if someone's critically in need that day, that's different. They'll need his care. But sending stones exist, so a quick message would be all that's needed.
"My cooking is merely passable, but you can't really mess up a sandwich."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
wrap here?
wrap.