milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Another day, another city. He's not sure how long he'll be in this one - weeks, maybe a month or two, if he's lucky. He hasn't been lucky for a half-year or so now, but there's nothing to do about that except stay ready, and move when he needs to.

He'd picked the apartment because it was high up in the building. He prefers it that way; it lets him watch from various angles and lines of sight when he needs to, and gives him quick access to the roof and escape.

Not that he can see much from inside at the moment, of course, having just finished taping newspaper -- multiple thicknesses -- over the windows. It helps; the lines of text and distortion of blurry newsprint photos disguise any shadows that he might cast from within.

James takes a moment to look around. It's got everything he needs; sleeping bag unrolled on the cheap mattress in the corner, the windows (now covered), washroom no bigger than a closet, kitchenette barely bigger than that, even complete with the unimaginable luxury of a full-size fridge...

... ah. Food. Right.

He's not hungry, but food's the fuel that's necessary to keep going. It's too late to go to the market now, though. Instead, he goes to the apartment door, and opens it into Milliways.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He is very, very still. James watches the fish like they hold the answer to all the world's secrets.

"And it helps?"

"Yes."

There is a rock-solid certainty to that word. Eight years or so of practicing what she preaches has seen to that.

And --

"I started with a cactus. The Cactus with No Name. He has a sign."

The cactus is sitting at the dining room table, which fills the empty space in front of the bedroom door and the little kitchen window.

(It is catty-corner to the aquarium with the fish.)

The sign was obviously made by a little girl who enjoys coloring. X remembers Ingress fondly.

"It is easier than fish. And more portable."

"Pricklier, too."

But even as he says it, he drifts over to look down at the cactus with the sort of intense study that's usually reserved for a target.

X flicks a look in his direction, then heads to the freezer to extract some bloodworms for the fish.

"It will be less inclined to hide than a hedgehog. And is smaller than a porcupine."

What?

He touches one of the spines with his right index finger, lightly, then turns back toward Joe.

"I'll have to take your word for that."

"I do not lie," X offers.

Because it's true.

Well, she doesn't lie when it's not a mission.

"I believe you."

He's trusted her before, after all.

"I know," she says, looking at him solemnly.

Then X moves in his direction, holding out the canister of bloodworms in one hand.

"Do you want to feed them? The fish."

It's almost funny, how easily she can throw him off balance.

"Me?"

But even as he asks, he reflexively holds out his left hand for the canister, palm up.

She sets the can in his palm, taking the lid off as she does so.

"Six pinches. Generosity is not terrible."

He closes his fingers around it carefully, so as not to crush it, and takes a reluctant step closer to the tank.

"Six. Okay."

He can do that. Of course he can.

"They have survived Santo," X offers.

Carefully.

"He is made of rock. And likes to tap on the tank."

She put paid to that very quickly, but still.

"How many tanks did he break?"

Presuming, of course, that this glass is more fragile than the cryofreeze containers were. (It'd pretty much have to be.)

As he speaks, he takes a single pinch between his right thumb and index finger, and scatters it over the surface of the water.

"None. And he is not good at being careful."

She's just saying.

And as she does so, of course, the fish start swimming up to the top of the tank, mouths opening and closing in want of food.

FOOD.

"Looks like these guys are hungry."

He's a little quicker with the second pinch, and the third.

"Yes. They would eat all day."

She does not smile, really. But --

"If they could. Sometimes it is problematic."

Edited 2017-02-10 04:15 (UTC)

"They'd be like ... I don't know. Marbles, maybe."

He slants a sideways look at her.

"With fins."

"There are fish like that."

Pufferfish, sometimes. For one.

"The aquarium has them. I do not."

Beat.

"We can see them. Sometime. If you want."

He's a little slow to answer, to all appearances concentrating on the fish.

"Sometime. Maybe."

"You can ask me."

Her voice is quiet, and her expression, if James were looking at her, might be called 'sad'.

"To help."

Beat.

"I will not stop. Until they have nightmares about me. And leave you alone."

"They'll never leave me alone."

He drops the last of the food in the tank and turns to face her.

"And I've killed too many innocents."

X looks back at him, gaze even and still sad.

"One is too many. I know."

Beat.

"I have killed more than that, too."

"I know you do. And I know you have."

His own gaze is steady on hers.

"I'm not going to be the one who gets you in a place where you have to make that choice again."

"I am always in that place."

It is only the truth.

"Not on my account."