milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Jim has ventured down only rarely since his birthday, and only then because there's a party on. He is liking Bar's decision to paint his face for the duration! It's fun!

And then he comes to the bar for lunch. His gentle internal wondering of why Sherlock wasn't in bed when he woke up this morning is answered when he's presented with a note.

Jim goes very still. He remains very still for a long time, the paper crumpling evvvvvvvver so slowly in his fingers, creases cracking like ice dropped into water. He's glad of the face paint for a whole different reason, because oh, he's proud of Sherlock, he's proud of him for this, but he's going to fucking kill him as well, and do it properly this time. The game plays on. Yes. Yes, it does, and thank God, because at least this proves they really will never be ordinary.

So he laughs. Loudly, and with a manic edge he doesn't even try to hide. Well done, Sherlock. You even left the note in the bar, rather than somewhere private. Well, then it deserves a public reaction. Jim shuts up and shakes his head, almost fond. He straightens his pristine jacket, and smooths his hair back.

Then he turns and picks up the nearest chair, swings it over his head and smashes it to pieces on the floor. He smashes it until he's left with nothing but a leg, which spins out from his hand across the room, whipping through the air.

Sorry if it bounces off you?

[OOC: Birthday link is lots of NSFW, natch. And it's probably obvious, but Jim's a tad erratic in this EP and may be prone to outbursts.)

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'Only if I make it yours. Touch your precious babies.'

Maybe he will, but maybe not in a way any of them would mind. You can be destructive - and self-destructive - in many, many, ways, and Jim prefers most of them to outright violence.

'You should admit there's ways I can hurt people that you can't ever stop. That might even hurt you, yes, my dear? Show you you're not as all-powerful as you think?'

Sherlock just twisted a knife in him, for example, and he's a whole different world away. Jim can do worse, and X wouldn't be able to do a thing.

X does not roll her eyes.

"I do not protect people from themselves. Usually."

Beat.

"You are an exception."

Like Deadpool!

'Awwww. Am I your favourite.'

His painted mouth splits into a dark grin, and his tone will convey exactly how much this means to him.

Not a whole lot. Or even that much.

'Too late to protect me from myself, X. I'm somewhere out there with half my head missing.'

(Probably. Potentially.)

'Go away. This is nothing to do with you.'

"That is your body."

Obviously, Jim.

"They are not the same."

Fury burns down him again, this time a familiar tension, stuck with nowhere to go. Why do people insist on stating the obvious? What do they get out of it? Why do they feel the need to inflict it on him?

'X.'

Deep breath.

'You're boring me.'

Again a shrug, just as one-shouldered and quick as the last.

"I am waiting."

Beat.

"For you to explode."

'And so by stating it you think I won't, to prove you wrong; or leave myself open to one of your not-sighs if I do, so for God's sake, stop being predictable.'

And forcing him to point out how predictable she's being, and blah to the blah to the nth degree of blah, and oh look, death is just like life, an endless endless endless cycle of the same old shit.

He could beg, sometimes. Just for anyone (who isn't Sherlock) to stop being so tedious.

'Do better. Come on, you know how this works. What do I get for behaving myself?'

X considers this, standing statue-still for a few long moments.

Then --

"I will ask once. It is not a promise."

Beat.

"What do you want? Besides not to be bored."

Jim pops his jaw, eyes boring into hers. Then he cracks his neck to the side.

He doesn't know. Well, he does. He wants Sherlock to walk back in, so he can make it clear to him just how not okay this behaviour is. But X can't provide that.

'Something new.'

X considers, brow furrowing very slightly.

Hmm.

"You have been to space? Before."

A pause.

"Not in a ship."

'Of course not.'

On Earth? When does anything good ever happen on Earth?

Edited 2016-10-31 17:27 (UTC)

There are stars in her eyes and --

Is that her skin and hair turning the blue at the heart of a flame?

(The answer is yes.)

"Here."

X holds out her hand.

He does not know what this means, but there are literal stars in her eyes and there's no way he's not going to give this a go.

he takes her hand.

Where this goes first is that they become very, very, very small.

Welcome to something like the microverse, Jim Moriarty.

(It makes walking between atoms much easier. Sort of. And thus slipping between the various pieces of the Milliways protective shield and inescapable cyclical time state a lot easier, as well.)

*Mun makes no promises about the accuracy of the microverse use here, because ahahahaha no.

'...X.'

What the. Actual. Fuck.

"Captain Universe is more accurate," X corrects. "When we are like this."

Beat.

"You wanted something new."

And this something new will really not go far toward helping him break whatever keeps Milliways safe. Most people can't bypass atoms. And atomic forces.

'Do I have to salute?'

He's not going to salute. He's also properly distracted from his mood, and she might have just become his second favourite person in the multiverse. The bar just...went, and okay, realising he was suddenly microscopic was weird and briefly awful, but now the shield is gone, and there's only...space.

'What happens if I let go of your hand?'

"You will stop feeling like there is gravity."

A pause.

"Free-fall is not always bad."

What?

"Do not salute. We are not that kind of Captain."

To their left, somewhere, there is a star going nova.

To their right, again somewhere, is a star almost done with being eaten by a neighboring black hole. Everywhere else there is either emptiness, dark matter, or the last exploding remnants of a dying universe.

Shockingly.

Free-fall is supposed to be a lot of fun. Maybe some other day.

Jim's seen telescopic images of things like this, or reproductions of what astronomers think it must look like, but no one - of course - from his world has ever seen anything like this. For once, he's close to speechless.

'Take me closer.'

He is not in least bit bothered by having his relative size and significance in the universe being so abjectly pointed out to him. He just wants a better view of the universe dying.

Since his directions are imprecise, X directs them toward the black hole consuming the gases of the almost-dead star.

Because it's pretty great to see a Schwarzschild radius up close. Or not-see, given that no light can escape from such a thing.

Still.

"Entropy," X observes, very carefully, "is interesting."

'Interesting.'

He can't take his eyes off it, numbers running without pause behind his eyes but mainly just enjoying it. Genuine enjoyment, which is something he rarely feels, and it's so strong he can't even recognise it as such. He's too busy taking in what he sees.

'In what way?'

He'd choose a better word than that to describe it. 'Inevitable', perhaps.

"People are afraid of it."

People are weird.

"But it is just disorder."

A pause.

"I like observing the patterns."

'Don't depress me.'

The fact that is, or can be, any order in chaos whatsoever - depressing. He prefers the idea of true disorder, where nothing can be predicted. But perhaps he likes the idea because he knows it's unattainable; there is no such thing as absolute chaos. Not on Earth, anyway.

'People are afraid of literally everything. They're pointless.'

His voice has lost its edge though. He's softened by wonder, and happy to get lost in it.

"We are not very good at being afraid."

It's true.

"Here. The nova is close."

Time to drift toward that dying star, instead. Perhaps closer to the heart, where fusion of hydrogen into helium and heavier atoms is still feebly occurring.

"You will not have to worry about radiation."

Captain Universe can handle it. The incredible heat, too.

'Why are you referring to yourself as 'we'?'

He doesn't really care. There's nothing more interesting than what's happening before his eyes right now. Radiation is the last thing on his mind.

He finds himself willing the nova on, mentally pushing the dying star into its final throes. It'll be a sight worth seeing, and he doesn't think that about many things.