[ He sets his glass down on the table, places his hand next to it so he can stop being distracted by the tremor. ]
I didn't wake you, did I?
[ A useless question, since he knows her to well. But he feels- that's the crux isn't it- guilty about it. Even though logically, she would be up no matter what. They're spies. Alertness runs in their blood, in their years of training. When she gets up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, he hears it. With or without these new developments. ]
[ April snorted, placing one hand on her hip as she stared at her partner from the doorway. ]
I was wide awake already as you well know.
[ Or she assumed he did; very rarely did even April manage to pull a fast one over his eyes. Striding into the room, she sat down next to him and crossed her long legs to all the better angle herself into a position to see his rather pleasant profile (although why that thought sent a thrill tingling up her spine was beyond her. Because she was supposed to be beyond thrills, especially given the life she lived.) Raising an eyebrow, she stared at her partner. ]
You can't sleep?
[ She would like to say she wasn't worried but she was (odd as that sounds). She needed at least one of them alert and awake in the morning and usually that meant November took up that slack. ]
[ Except the way he says it, the words are distracted. Tinged away from the careful neutral he would've preferred. The neutral that he's been carrying like a cloak ever since the first time he'd frozen someone's veins to ice. It's a break in the facade, one that's been so easily worn until now.
Suddenly weary alongside the tension, he breathes out a sigh, fingers tracing the beginnings of condensation on the glass.
If he wanted, he could chill it. He doesn't think he could do much else, that all his effort would be bent into such a simple task. ]
No, another lapse. Our past was rather ugly, wasn't it?
((ooc: I was so surprised and happy to see this pop up in my inbox. /fluffs you up ♥)
[ she kept her frown to herself as a stab of worry pierced her heart and she immediately shoved that wayward thought from her mind. Instead, she just raised her brow and meandered over to the mini fridge to find herself a beer. ]
More than a bit ugly I would say; It can be rather bone-chilling if you dwell on it for too long.
[ she popped open the seal and then spared another glance for her partner, the worry now showing on her face. ]
Are you thinking about her again? [ That Havoc woman. She had seemed so calm, so at peace with herself after they had found her in that hotel for prostitutes. If only April could have bottled that up and shared it with her partner in times like these. It was a blessing, whatever that woman had done. And April didn't exactly believe in a higher power anymore; not like that anyway. Not after the things she had done and seen. ]
[ Bone chilling. Horrifying and horrific in turns. November glances up at the sound of the can tab popping open; April's no longer hiding her worry and he feels a swooping sensation like guilt. She's so put together, someone he's always been able to count on to weather the storm.
He hates that he's reduced to this, that his old life has dredged itself up through the cold blank. Picked through the sheet of ice he's had over his conscience, cracks spidering along at random intervals. ]
How can I not?
[ She's the only one who has ever been recorded to have gone through this. The regression, the erosion of her power until it blinked out and left just her. A human with blood on her hands.
(But she made something of it, hadn't she?)
November picks up what's left of his drink and downs it in a neat swallow. He gestures to the fridge with the glass still in hand, looking weary, circles defined by the shadows in the room. ]
[ Now she knows something is wrong if he's actually asking for her beer instead of the hard liquor he tends to prefer (being that classy, suave MI-6 agent they each like to play at being). She got it for him though, no questions asked and popped the seal off with an expert twist of her fingers before handing it to him. ]
Here, but don't drink too fast else I might think you're pretending to be me.
[ not a whole lot of chance that, though. November might be pretty suave and hot in that white suit of his, but she really doubted he could pull off her dress. Taking a seat on the arm of the chair November was sitting in, she glanced down at him. ]
If you need to talk, I can listen.
[ although she should tell him that she too has been fearing the dark of late, wondering at the strange, twisting feeling digging into her spine when she couldn't sleep. That he hadn't commented on her drinking habits of late wasn't necessarily a good sign either. Even if she had been sneaking out of the apartment more and more, as she had been indulging in those late night, early morning drinking binges.
... even though she had been chasing after the tantalizing, almost feeling of being buzzed for the first time in a long time. But she stayed silent, keeping her lips firmly shut, afraid to voice what she was starting to fear. And even that fear was a gift and a treasure.
[ He hates it, that he's reduced to this. Numbing the edges, the sharp glass fragments of memories that stick in his chest, alcohol burning it away. It isn't good to be dependent on something he doesn't need– shouldn't need. But right now, with the tremor in his hand and the creeping misery, it's a lifeline.
November takes the proffered drink, giving her a grateful little nod, a strained smile. ]
Only you can be your special brand, April, you know that.
[ They'd tried to replace her once, on his team. He'd gone to Decade, all smiles and charming words but flinty eyes and straightened that out right away. They're a team. April, July, and him. And with the rush of memories, the emotion, he has an even firmer rush of protectiveness.
Carefully, he takes a sip of the beer, not even noticing the taste. ]
I don't– I don't know what to say. [ Brows furrowed, he flicks his gaze up at her. ]
It feels like everything's dredged up. As though someone unmuted my whole life, suddenly.
[ she stilled on her perch on the side of the armchair, so near to November and yet so far away before she slowly raised her beer (her own tremor showing slightly) and took a sip. Life unmuted: how apt a description that was and she felt a sudden rush of nostalgia as she remembered the first time she had seen November. He had been a veteran after just a few months, she was still green around the edges, a fresh, gawky barely out of her teens and freshly minted with her contract.
But she had been optimistic then, even still, faking the emotion as surely as the phrase, fake it til you make it, demanded. She pasted on a smile for November's sake. ]
No wonder you've been glum lately; It's practically been like having a teenager in the house again.
[ she chuckled, but the laugh fell flat even to her own ears and then she sighed, letting her beer fall to her lap where she cupped it in both hands. ]
You're right, however; nothing's felt quite right since we entered this country. [ she flicked a glance towards their third bedroom where July was curled up with a bear they'd picked up in some awful, cheesy gift shop as a joke (even though July loved it). ] Even July... [ she shrugged and then kicked her heels back a little as she leaned back. ]
Do you hate it?
[ hate it. She shivered a little, wondering that she could even ask such a question and wonder the answer to it. Emotions, they were... so unnecessary to who she was now, but she couldn't escape it no matter how she twisted and turned, deflected and ignored. It was there, creeping at the corner of her vision, a forgotten ghost that she had thought long since put to rest. ]
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no subject
[ He sets his glass down on the table, places his hand next to it so he can stop being distracted by the tremor. ]
I didn't wake you, did I?
[ A useless question, since he knows her to well. But he feels- that's the crux isn't it- guilty about it. Even though logically, she would be up no matter what. They're spies. Alertness runs in their blood, in their years of training. When she gets up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, he hears it. With or without these new developments. ]
no subject
I was wide awake already as you well know.
[ Or she assumed he did; very rarely did even April manage to pull a fast one over his eyes. Striding into the room, she sat down next to him and crossed her long legs to all the better angle herself into a position to see his rather pleasant profile (although why that thought sent a thrill tingling up her spine was beyond her. Because she was supposed to be beyond thrills, especially given the life she lived.) Raising an eyebrow, she stared at her partner. ]
You can't sleep?
[ She would like to say she wasn't worried but she was (odd as that sounds). She needed at least one of them alert and awake in the morning and usually that meant November took up that slack. ]
no subject
[ Except the way he says it, the words are distracted. Tinged away from the careful neutral he would've preferred. The neutral that he's been carrying like a cloak ever since the first time he'd frozen someone's veins to ice. It's a break in the facade, one that's been so easily worn until now.
Suddenly weary alongside the tension, he breathes out a sigh, fingers tracing the beginnings of condensation on the glass.
If he wanted, he could chill it. He doesn't think he could do much else, that all his effort would be bent into such a simple task. ]
No, another lapse. Our past was rather ugly, wasn't it?
no subject
[ she kept her frown to herself as a stab of worry pierced her heart and she immediately shoved that wayward thought from her mind. Instead, she just raised her brow and meandered over to the mini fridge to find herself a beer. ]
More than a bit ugly I would say; It can be rather bone-chilling if you dwell on it for too long.
[ she popped open the seal and then spared another glance for her partner, the worry now showing on her face. ]
Are you thinking about her again? [ That Havoc woman. She had seemed so calm, so at peace with herself after they had found her in that hotel for prostitutes. If only April could have bottled that up and shared it with her partner in times like these. It was a blessing, whatever that woman had done. And April didn't exactly believe in a higher power anymore; not like that anyway. Not after the things she had done and seen. ]
i'm always happy about these two tbh
[ Bone chilling. Horrifying and horrific in turns. November glances up at the sound of the can tab popping open; April's no longer hiding her worry and he feels a swooping sensation like guilt. She's so put together, someone he's always been able to count on to weather the storm.
He hates that he's reduced to this, that his old life has dredged itself up through the cold blank. Picked through the sheet of ice he's had over his conscience, cracks spidering along at random intervals. ]
How can I not?
[ She's the only one who has ever been recorded to have gone through this. The regression, the erosion of her power until it blinked out and left just her. A human with blood on her hands.
(But she made something of it, hadn't she?)
November picks up what's left of his drink and downs it in a neat swallow. He gestures to the fridge with the glass still in hand, looking weary, circles defined by the shadows in the room. ]
Pass me one, will you?
same, I am the same
Here, but don't drink too fast else I might think you're pretending to be me.
[ not a whole lot of chance that, though. November might be pretty suave and hot in that white suit of his, but she really doubted he could pull off her dress. Taking a seat on the arm of the chair November was sitting in, she glanced down at him. ]
If you need to talk, I can listen.
[ although she should tell him that she too has been fearing the dark of late, wondering at the strange, twisting feeling digging into her spine when she couldn't sleep. That he hadn't commented on her drinking habits of late wasn't necessarily a good sign either. Even if she had been sneaking out of the apartment more and more, as she had been indulging in those late night, early morning drinking binges.
... even though she had been chasing after the tantalizing, almost feeling of being buzzed for the first time in a long time. But she stayed silent, keeping her lips firmly shut, afraid to voice what she was starting to fear. And even that fear was a gift and a treasure.
Even as it terrorized her. ]
no subject
November takes the proffered drink, giving her a grateful little nod, a strained smile. ]
Only you can be your special brand, April, you know that.
[ They'd tried to replace her once, on his team. He'd gone to Decade, all smiles and charming words but flinty eyes and straightened that out right away. They're a team. April, July, and him. And with the rush of memories, the emotion, he has an even firmer rush of protectiveness.
Carefully, he takes a sip of the beer, not even noticing the taste. ]
I don't– I don't know what to say. [ Brows furrowed, he flicks his gaze up at her. ]
It feels like everything's dredged up. As though someone unmuted my whole life, suddenly.
no subject
But she had been optimistic then, even still, faking the emotion as surely as the phrase, fake it til you make it, demanded. She pasted on a smile for November's sake. ]
No wonder you've been glum lately; It's practically been like having a teenager in the house again.
[ she chuckled, but the laugh fell flat even to her own ears and then she sighed, letting her beer fall to her lap where she cupped it in both hands. ]
You're right, however; nothing's felt quite right since we entered this country. [ she flicked a glance towards their third bedroom where July was curled up with a bear they'd picked up in some awful, cheesy gift shop as a joke (even though July loved it). ] Even July... [ she shrugged and then kicked her heels back a little as she leaned back. ]
Do you hate it?
[ hate it. She shivered a little, wondering that she could even ask such a question and wonder the answer to it. Emotions, they were... so unnecessary to who she was now, but she couldn't escape it no matter how she twisted and turned, deflected and ignored. It was there, creeping at the corner of her vision, a forgotten ghost that she had thought long since put to rest. ]