Dude, I suck at running even when I'm healthy. Little legs and feet that didn't touch the ground for over a year before I got here, you know? Chomping me now and then can't make me suck much more than I already do. I think.
[ Stupid honesty caveats.
But okay. This is a problem. The thought of Beckett asking other people for donations makes her feel vaguely uneasy, so it isn't likely to be a pleasant thought for him either. So. Alternatives? She's supposed to come up with solutions to things. It's her freaking job. ]
What if... what if we schedule a trip back downtown sometime soon. We can stock up on food, which will keep me and Rhys healthy enough to keep donating, and we can stop by the meat section to find something suitably bloody for you. Then you can alternate between that and - you know, the chompings?
[He shakes his head a little. Nope, not convinced to stop worrying. He knows about blood loss better than you, kid.]
It makes a difference. Particularly when you - [okay don't make it sound like fussing] - and all of us are in a rundown state to begin with.
[He expects her to protest that she is not so run down. He's got the Look prepared for it, already. One Beckett speciality oh-please look aimed and ready to fire.
She'd still very good at reasonable plans, though. He blinks.] That's an excellent idea, come to think of it. I don't know how much raw meat would satisfy, but we should certainly try it. [And, because he is Beckett and his life is sad:] Perhaps we can find more bacon.
I'm n-- nnnot - not run down now. Not much. Less than before.
[ The urge to slap her hands over her mouth to make it stop is almost overwhelming. And embarrassing. Is she really this reliant on telling people she's fine? Urgrhrgr. ]
But - um, yes, I'm sure we could find more bacon. Maybe enough to take around with us for a while, if we fill the spare bag with snow and put any perishables in there? Like a portable refrigerator. We should be able to carry around a few days' worth around like that safely, don't you think? And if not, we'll just have to eat the rest of it all at once before it expires. How awful.
[There it is again, that wrongness in how she talks. Beckett pauses, and tries not to make it too obvious that he's pausing, though there's a flicker of odd wariness in his eyes. Maybe his tinted glasses would hide it. All right, careful now. Don't back her into a corner.
He needs to know, though. He's always been absolutely terrible with sitting on unconfirmed suspicions.]
I'm no expert on food safety. Does that even apply under these conditions? No items I've seen have an expiration date, and we are all basically living in cold storage...
[And now, casually as he can:] The finger must be a great relief at least. Did it continue to bother you, before?
I suppose we can play it by ear with the food. Or... by nose. If anything turns green or starts smelling like a dumpster, we can get rid of it easily enough. As for my fingers: the littlest didn't bother me so much, but the ring finger - the one I had to bind up by myself - never really stopped aching. Particularly while travelling, with it being that much colder. Nrrgghr.
[ She's pretty sure she's been caught now, for want of a better word, and huffs a little sigh of embarrassment and sulky frustration. ]
But it wasn't that bad! I've endured worse for longer, so it was. Not fine, but. You know.
Beckett just looks her for a while. A long, silent while, all in his eerie stillness, the glow of his eyes hazing through the glow of the tablet. He'd been subject to a similar effect himself, more than once in his long career of secret-keeping. He knows the creeping dread of it, and the frustration. It still tempts him. Questions and truth - the one vice he can't do without, so much more than even blood. There are things he wants to know.
Her trust is in his hands and it feels terribly fragile. He closes his fists at his sides, convulsive.]
Are you compelled to answer questions, or are you still able to reply by saying you don't want to answer or would rather not talk about something?
[Let's just stop pretending for a bit there. While he's trying to find a way out.]
I seem to be under a degree of compulsion, but if things get too... hairy, I expect I can simply throw my tablet across the room.
[ She's clearly thought about this. The response is too immediate for anything else. ]
But I trust it won't come to that. I mean - you can ask what you want to ask, Beckett, you've earned that much.
[ She knows him, after all, and knows what knowledge in general means to him. And beyond that, she trusts him not to hurt her with his questions. Not intentionally. ]
[She disarms him with these words. His hands go limp at his sides again. He can ask... but any truth she gives him would be truth she hadn't wanted to give, before. For whatever reason, but he respects all her reasons, or so he tells himself. Or is it that there are truths he's afraid of?
He hesitates for a long time, which he hates, because it tells her that there's something worth hesitating over. Something he might ask, that he knows she might not want him to.
(Intentional hurts are always the least of it.)]
Angel, my taking your blood - [he swallows faintly]- is it truly your will? Or it is a... replacement sacrifice, some dues you owe anyone who loves you?
[If she tells him he's being ridiculous he'd be the happiest vampire in Snowhell.]
Geez - of course it's my will, you - you freaking goober.
[ STRONG WORDS. But that's the simplest answer she can give, and it feels like she should give him more than that even if she isn't compelled to. That is, after all, how she do. ]
If having Handsome Jack as a father taught me one thing, it's that you don't owe anyone anything for loving you. If I felt in any way like I was obligated or expected to - er - donate, I don't think I'd offer. It'd feel too much like what he did to me, and that'd sour everything. Right? And that's the last thing I'd want.
[Strong words, but they're what he'd hoped for, the best he could hope for, she can call him any and every name she pleases if this is the truth. Beckett lets out a long breath - hadn't realized he was holding it, they're weird things, these mortal bodies. Her will, to give him that much.
To let him keep his sanity. To believe he is worthy of that. He feels weak with relief. He glances away, embarrassed at it, at the question, at wondering if he's perhaps not as done with the crying part of this reunion as he thought.]
What - [he clears his throat. Fighting an embarrassing smile.] - what on earth is a goober?
[ Being able to say such things when you can only speak the truth is apparently giggleworthy stuff, if her bout of soft snickering is anything to go by. ]
Getting worked up about asking a question with such an obvious answer. Here I thought you'd ask something terrible, and you get all cute on me!
We have differing notions of obvious. [There he is finding his dry wit again. Good recovery. Though a part of him does not want to recover yet. Sometimes there is a strange relief in these vulnerable moments, when he feels as though she sees him clearly, all he is, and judges him worthy.
It occurs to him that there is something he should do next.]
Do you want to ask me anything? I'm not compelled, of course, but call it a fair trade. You know I believe in paying my debts.
[There's no debt, maybe, but he thinks, there is balance; there is fairness, and it matters. And now he's got to give her an honest answer.
It'd be easier if he knew what the honest answer was.
Well, to begin with, it's fair to let her see that he isn't sure. Beckett has to consciously think about making that show; he's lost all natural tics of nervousness long ago, and now the way his eyes flicker left and right looks artificial. But it is honest. His happiness is a difficult subject. He finds it hard to imagine it, really.]
I - can't tell you it would not make me happy to no longer be the last of my Kindred. [And that's already more honesty than he allows himself much of the time.] But I'm not sure I would be happy knowing that I've given this - legacy, such as it is, to anyone. You least of all.
[ Her surprise at the last part is completely genuine. She'd thought -- ]
With all the talking you do about how miserable it is to be mortal, I didn't think you'd view sharing your kind's legacy to be such a bad thing. I'd figured any concerns would be more along the lines of how embarrassing it would be for you if I started trying to add sugar to blood before drinking it, or something.
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branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2016-11-07 06:52 pm (UTC)[ Stupid honesty caveats.
But okay. This is a problem. The thought of Beckett asking other people for donations makes her feel vaguely uneasy, so it isn't likely to be a pleasant thought for him either. So. Alternatives? She's supposed to come up with solutions to things. It's her freaking job. ]
What if... what if we schedule a trip back downtown sometime soon. We can stock up on food, which will keep me and Rhys healthy enough to keep donating, and we can stop by the meat section to find something suitably bloody for you. Then you can alternate between that and - you know, the chompings?
no subject
Date: 2016-11-19 11:24 pm (UTC)It makes a difference. Particularly when you - [okay don't make it sound like fussing] - and all of us are in a rundown state to begin with.
[He expects her to protest that she is not so run down. He's got the Look prepared for it, already. One Beckett speciality oh-please look aimed and ready to fire.
She'd still very good at reasonable plans, though. He blinks.] That's an excellent idea, come to think of it. I don't know how much raw meat would satisfy, but we should certainly try it. [And, because he is Beckett and his life is sad:] Perhaps we can find more bacon.
no subject
Date: 2016-11-19 11:50 pm (UTC)[ The urge to slap her hands over her mouth to make it stop is almost overwhelming. And embarrassing. Is she really this reliant on telling people she's fine? Urgrhrgr. ]
But - um, yes, I'm sure we could find more bacon. Maybe enough to take around with us for a while, if we fill the spare bag with snow and put any perishables in there? Like a portable refrigerator. We should be able to carry around a few days' worth around like that safely, don't you think? And if not, we'll just have to eat the rest of it all at once before it expires. How awful.
no subject
Date: 2016-11-20 12:14 am (UTC)He needs to know, though. He's always been absolutely terrible with sitting on unconfirmed suspicions.]
I'm no expert on food safety. Does that even apply under these conditions? No items I've seen have an expiration date, and we are all basically living in cold storage...
[And now, casually as he can:] The finger must be a great relief at least. Did it continue to bother you, before?
no subject
Date: 2016-11-20 03:07 pm (UTC)[ She's pretty sure she's been caught now, for want of a better word, and huffs a little sigh of embarrassment and sulky frustration. ]
But it wasn't that bad! I've endured worse for longer, so it was. Not fine, but. You know.
no subject
Date: 2016-11-20 10:15 pm (UTC)Beckett just looks her for a while. A long, silent while, all in his eerie stillness, the glow of his eyes hazing through the glow of the tablet. He'd been subject to a similar effect himself, more than once in his long career of secret-keeping. He knows the creeping dread of it, and the frustration. It still tempts him. Questions and truth - the one vice he can't do without, so much more than even blood. There are things he wants to know.
Her trust is in his hands and it feels terribly fragile. He closes his fists at his sides, convulsive.]
Are you compelled to answer questions, or are you still able to reply by saying you don't want to answer or would rather not talk about something?
[Let's just stop pretending for a bit there. While he's trying to find a way out.]
no subject
Date: 2016-11-20 10:49 pm (UTC)[ She's clearly thought about this. The response is too immediate for anything else. ]
But I trust it won't come to that. I mean - you can ask what you want to ask, Beckett, you've earned that much.
[ She knows him, after all, and knows what knowledge in general means to him. And beyond that, she trusts him not to hurt her with his questions. Not intentionally. ]
no subject
Date: 2016-11-22 06:13 pm (UTC)He hesitates for a long time, which he hates, because it tells her that there's something worth hesitating over. Something he might ask, that he knows she might not want him to.
(Intentional hurts are always the least of it.)]
Angel, my taking your blood - [he swallows faintly]- is it truly your will? Or it is a... replacement sacrifice, some dues you owe anyone who loves you?
[If she tells him he's being ridiculous he'd be the happiest vampire in Snowhell.]
no subject
Date: 2016-11-22 06:54 pm (UTC)[ STRONG WORDS. But that's the simplest answer she can give, and it feels like she should give him more than that even if she isn't compelled to. That is, after all, how she do. ]
If having Handsome Jack as a father taught me one thing, it's that you don't owe anyone anything for loving you. If I felt in any way like I was obligated or expected to - er - donate, I don't think I'd offer. It'd feel too much like what he did to me, and that'd sour everything. Right? And that's the last thing I'd want.
no subject
Date: 2016-11-22 07:36 pm (UTC)To let him keep his sanity. To believe he is worthy of that. He feels weak with relief. He glances away, embarrassed at it, at the question, at wondering if he's perhaps not as done with the crying part of this reunion as he thought.]
What - [he clears his throat. Fighting an embarrassing smile.] - what on earth is a goober?
no subject
Date: 2016-11-22 09:52 pm (UTC)[ Being able to say such things when you can only speak the truth is apparently giggleworthy stuff, if her bout of soft snickering is anything to go by. ]
Getting worked up about asking a question with such an obvious answer. Here I thought you'd ask something terrible, and you get all cute on me!
no subject
Date: 2016-11-26 12:13 am (UTC)It occurs to him that there is something he should do next.]
Do you want to ask me anything? I'm not compelled, of course, but call it a fair trade. You know I believe in paying my debts.
no subject
Date: 2016-11-26 12:56 am (UTC)[ But he's weird about debts, isn't he. Vampire stuff. She's known that since way back when he got sick the first time. It feels like an eternity ago.
Well. To a wee babby mortal, anyway. Maybe that's kinda what she should ask about? ]
But if you insist. Um, the thing we talked about - making me a vampire - do you think that'll make you happy?
[ Because in case he hasn't noticed yet, his happiness is important. The most important, along with Rhys'. ]
no subject
Date: 2016-11-27 10:04 pm (UTC)It'd be easier if he knew what the honest answer was.
Well, to begin with, it's fair to let her see that he isn't sure. Beckett has to consciously think about making that show; he's lost all natural tics of nervousness long ago, and now the way his eyes flicker left and right looks artificial. But it is honest. His happiness is a difficult subject. He finds it hard to imagine it, really.]
I - can't tell you it would not make me happy to no longer be the last of my Kindred. [And that's already more honesty than he allows himself much of the time.] But I'm not sure I would be happy knowing that I've given this - legacy, such as it is, to anyone. You least of all.
no subject
Date: 2016-12-06 06:51 pm (UTC)[ Her surprise at the last part is completely genuine. She'd thought -- ]
With all the talking you do about how miserable it is to be mortal, I didn't think you'd view sharing your kind's legacy to be such a bad thing. I'd figured any concerns would be more along the lines of how embarrassing it would be for you if I started trying to add sugar to blood before drinking it, or something.
no subject
Date: 2016-12-08 07:11 pm (UTC)But vampirism is not merely immortality. It is... there are things I considered a fair price once, but...
[For god's sake lighten the mood lighten it now.]
To begin with, you won't be able to ingest sugar. It's all blood, all the time.