[ for a moment —too long a moment, really—, larry is caught up in his thoughts, in his desire to look different. for a moment, he's caught up, but with maine reacting like that, the twitch of surprise and the widening of his eyes, the remark about power, it's impossible to stay ignorant that there's something going on.
plus, the glow is kind of a give-away.
larry glances down at himself, at his hands. unscarred skin. ]
What-
[ it flickers, scars coming to the forefront, panic surging up in larry. for a moment, it's just skin again, like any regular person —and then it's gone, the glow dying down, every scar visible again.
the breath larry lets out is shaking. he thinks his hands might be, too. ]
That's never happened before.
[ he looks at maine, wanting to hide, wanting to do it all over again, needing to know: ] You saw that, too, right?
[ The first time that Maine's power activated, he only realized it in retrospect. He'd been emotionally overwhelmed, stressed beyond his limits by a situation he didn't know how to handle. And so his power activated, freezing him in place until the source of his stress vanished. The next time his power activated was much the same. He was consumed by confusion and anger; his power turned it into mindless bloodlust — a desire to destroy that overrode all conscious thought. The time after that, his power caused him to flee, sprinting through New Amsterdam's streets while trying to escape the inescapable.
It wasn't until Maine's power forced him to attack one of his best friends that he started to figure it out. Wasn't until it consumed his mind again and again, forcing him to freeze, flee, or fight, that he began to make progress in controlling it. And the truth is, he still doesn't have full control of it. Still knows it's better to avoid situations that might push him over the edge. Still knows that it — that he — is more a threat than an asset.
So as he watches Larry's reaction to his power — the confusion, the panic, the disbelief — Maine finds himself uncomfortably conflicted. Part of him is sympathetic; part of him is wary; part of him is envious. He doesn't like it. Tries to shove his emotions aside, doing his best to focus on Larry instead of his own bullshit.
Larry asks a question; Maine nods an affirmative. Meets Larry's gaze without flinching, same as always. ]
[ larry doesn't know what maine's power is, what it is like —he could, perhaps, understand. it isn't so unlike the negative spirit, which left larry unconscious every time it broke out, did things that he had no control over. the negative spirit has a mind of his own, so it isn't the same thing, but somewhat comparable. maybe it would help to talk about it —but larry is far too shell-shocked and focused on what just happened to read anything into maine's expression or lack thereof, to dig deeper.
he probably wouldn't, even if he had an inkling of what is going on, not the kind to push.
he nods, then shakes his head, letting out a breath that's almost a laugh, although there's nothing funny about this. disbelief, more than anything. ]
What-
[ he's scared of the answer. he needs to know. ] What did it look like?
[ he can't see himself. he only knows his hands weren't scarred anymore. ]
[ It's a pitiful description, and Maine knows it. He's never been able to paint a picture with words. Not verbally, not in text — it's just a skill that he lacks. Always has. Used to get him shitty grades from frustrated teachers who thought he needed "motivation." All the motivation in the world never made a difference.
Maine makes a face, annoyed with himself. He'd do better if asked to describe what an enemy compound looked like. As it is: ]
Not good description.
[ His tone is apologetic; he'd like to give Larry a better answer. But he doesn't immediately think to reach out and touch Larry's hand so he can share the memory. ]
[ it's not much of a description, but brown hair and blue eyes fits. handsome, too, although larry thinks perhaps it's arrogant of him to think that his former self looked handsome. then again, it isn't anything people hadn't told him then. fact more than anything.
he finds himself swaying a little, reaching for the kitchen counter to steady himself, to have something to lean against. ]
I was thinking about looking how I used to. Before the crash. That, I wanted that.
[ he wanted that so maine would think him handsome, at least in part, so that maine would at least not think him ugly and a monster. (maine has given no indication, at any point, of thinking these things. it's all larry. if he stopped to think, he might even realise as much.) ]
[ The question of why Larry wanted to look like he used to rises in Maine's mind, but Maine doesn't give it voice. Seems too personal. Too invasive. Too much right now, what with Larry steadying himself against the kitchen counter.
How long has it been since Larry's accident? Sixty years? Maine isn't a particularly empathetic person, but he realizes this must be a lot to take in. Realizes that Larry probably needs a minute to process.
He hums, his gaze dropping to Larry's beer. Then, in what's intended to be a helpful tone: ]
[ larry thinks about it for a moment. maine might not be a particularly empathetic person, but he still cares and larry's chest clenches with it, something painful and hopeful alike.
[ Maine gives Larry a little smile that he hopes is reassuring. Then he turns to retrieve a bottle of whiskey from one of the top cabinets, along with two glasses.
Those two glasses are an invitation of sorts. A way of saying that Larry can hang out and drink with Maine for as long as he'd like. Maine doesn't need to be anywhere anytime soon; he's happy to keep Larry company. Happy to have Larry's company, too. ]
[ maine retrieves two glasses and a bottle and larry takes it as invitation (one he doesn't overthink only because his mind is elsewhere) to sink into a chair.
it isn't until maine has poured, until they've both taken a first sip, that he asks: ]
[ Larry takes a seat, and Maine takes one opposite, only briefly fussing with how small the chair is compared to him. That's an old battle, though. An old irritation. He settles in and keeps his eyes on Larry as they both take a sip.
The question is an easy one to answer. Maine immediately nods. ]
[ Maine presses his lips together as he nods. He knows what activates it. Knows what it does to him. However, describing it is difficult. He tries anyway. ]
Activates when I'm pissed off. Upset. [ A more comfortable word to say than "grieving." ] Lose control. Start attacking. Or run, or freeze.
[ larry makes a soft noise, sympathy more than anything. ]
It was a little like that with- [ he breaks off, gestures to his chest, then realises that maine'd probably take that to mean their powers here, not the negative spirit. ]
- the, uh, the thing that was inside me before. Every time he took control, I fainted. No control at all.
[ Maine makes a little noise in turn, a sound of acknowledgment and understanding. He can't imagine having to deal with that for sixty years. Shit, even a few months has been far too long for him.
[ "Sounds rough" nearly makes its way past Maine's lips — but he's said that before, hasn't he? He's called it "rough"; he's called it "complicated." Those things are still true, but what's the point of repeating them?
He takes another drink. Tries to imagine what it would be like to struggle so hard against something inside of him. Then he remembers wrestling control of his body away from an AI. Remembers losing control, too, and being unable to even attempt to fight back. Was Larry's experience anything like that? ]
Don't think acceptance will work. Power's not sentient. It doesn't care.
[ it was rough, and it was complicated —and it was, to some extent, larry's fault. he's glad not to linger on it. ]
No, I guess not.
[ he thinks for a moment, taking another sip. ] Maybe something about when it activates. But I'm really the last person who can give you advice on this.
[ he wishes he could; that he could contribute something, ease maine's path somehow. ]
[ Larry's desire to give advice at all — to help at all — still means something. Maine lets the shadow of a smile curve the edges of his lips. Raises his glass slightly. ]
Appreciate it.
[ The effort, he means. Then, after he takes another sip, he circles back to Larry's power. ]
[ larry nods, but it's hesitant —not because he isn't sure whether he'll like his power or not, but because he's unsure how much he should add, how much of what goes through his mind at the question he should tell maine.
maine hasn't flinched away from anything larry's said or done so far. it's enough to have him admit, after a moment: ]
I used to dream about not looking like this anymore.
[ Maine hasn't flinched yet; he doesn't flinch now, either. That said, he's not sure how to navigate this situation. He could ask, "Why?" But Maine is a private person who respects people's privacy in turn, especially if he likes them. He can supply a few guesses of his own, but he doesn't automatically assume that any of them are correct.
He wonders, though. Wonders what sorts of things Larry dreamed about. Wonders if those dreams ever stopped — and if they did, when and why? ]
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no subject
plus, the glow is kind of a give-away.
larry glances down at himself, at his hands. unscarred skin. ]
What-
[ it flickers, scars coming to the forefront, panic surging up in larry. for a moment, it's just skin again, like any regular person —and then it's gone, the glow dying down, every scar visible again.
the breath larry lets out is shaking. he thinks his hands might be, too. ]
That's never happened before.
[ he looks at maine, wanting to hide, wanting to do it all over again, needing to know: ] You saw that, too, right?
no subject
It wasn't until Maine's power forced him to attack one of his best friends that he started to figure it out. Wasn't until it consumed his mind again and again, forcing him to freeze, flee, or fight, that he began to make progress in controlling it. And the truth is, he still doesn't have full control of it. Still knows it's better to avoid situations that might push him over the edge. Still knows that it — that he — is more a threat than an asset.
So as he watches Larry's reaction to his power — the confusion, the panic, the disbelief — Maine finds himself uncomfortably conflicted. Part of him is sympathetic; part of him is wary; part of him is envious. He doesn't like it. Tries to shove his emotions aside, doing his best to focus on Larry instead of his own bullshit.
Larry asks a question; Maine nods an affirmative. Meets Larry's gaze without flinching, same as always. ]
Saw.
[ A verbal confirmation as well, just in case. ]
You okay? Didn't hurt?
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he probably wouldn't, even if he had an inkling of what is going on, not the kind to push.
he nods, then shakes his head, letting out a breath that's almost a laugh, although there's nothing funny about this. disbelief, more than anything. ]
What-
[ he's scared of the answer. he needs to know. ] What did it look like?
[ he can't see himself. he only knows his hands weren't scarred anymore. ]
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[ It's a pitiful description, and Maine knows it. He's never been able to paint a picture with words. Not verbally, not in text — it's just a skill that he lacks. Always has. Used to get him shitty grades from frustrated teachers who thought he needed "motivation." All the motivation in the world never made a difference.
Maine makes a face, annoyed with himself. He'd do better if asked to describe what an enemy compound looked like. As it is: ]
Not good description.
[ His tone is apologetic; he'd like to give Larry a better answer. But he doesn't immediately think to reach out and touch Larry's hand so he can share the memory. ]
no subject
[ it's not much of a description, but brown hair and blue eyes fits. handsome, too, although larry thinks perhaps it's arrogant of him to think that his former self looked handsome. then again, it isn't anything people hadn't told him then. fact more than anything.
he finds himself swaying a little, reaching for the kitchen counter to steady himself, to have something to lean against. ]
I was thinking about looking how I used to. Before the crash. That, I wanted that.
[ he wanted that so maine would think him handsome, at least in part, so that maine would at least not think him ugly and a monster. (maine has given no indication, at any point, of thinking these things. it's all larry. if he stopped to think, he might even realise as much.) ]
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How long has it been since Larry's accident? Sixty years? Maine isn't a particularly empathetic person, but he realizes this must be a lot to take in. Realizes that Larry probably needs a minute to process.
He hums, his gaze dropping to Larry's beer. Then, in what's intended to be a helpful tone: ]
Want something stronger?
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with feeling: ] Please.
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Those two glasses are an invitation of sorts. A way of saying that Larry can hang out and drink with Maine for as long as he'd like. Maine doesn't need to be anywhere anytime soon; he's happy to keep Larry company. Happy to have Larry's company, too. ]
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it isn't until maine has poured, until they've both taken a first sip, that he asks: ]
You think- it's my power?
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The question is an easy one to answer. Maine immediately nods. ]
Chest glowed. Weren't touching.
[ So, what else could it be? ]
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[ what else could it be. larry turns that over in his mind, except his mind doesn't quite want to work, doesn't quite know how to accept that.
his power's, what, looking like he used to?
it feels like a bad joke. it feels like the greatest present. he has no idea how to feel about it, actually.
so in the end, he downs his drink in one go and the sharpness of it helps a little. ]
Do you know what yours is?
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Activates when I'm pissed off. Upset. [ A more comfortable word to say than "grieving." ] Lose control. Start attacking. Or run, or freeze.
[ He makes a face. Takes a sip of his drink. ]
Can't predict which. Crapshoot.
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It was a little like that with- [ he breaks off, gestures to his chest, then realises that maine'd probably take that to mean their powers here, not the negative spirit. ]
- the, uh, the thing that was inside me before. Every time he took control, I fainted. No control at all.
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After another sip, he asks, ]
How'd you deal?
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Badly. Not? I hated him and I hated myself and it was-
We figured it out eventually. Kind of. The more I accepted him, the more it became possible to control it.
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He takes another drink. Tries to imagine what it would be like to struggle so hard against something inside of him. Then he remembers wrestling control of his body away from an AI. Remembers losing control, too, and being unable to even attempt to fight back. Was Larry's experience anything like that? ]
Don't think acceptance will work. Power's not sentient. It doesn't care.
[ Whether or not he accepts it, he means. ]
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No, I guess not.
[ he thinks for a moment, taking another sip. ] Maybe something about when it activates. But I'm really the last person who can give you advice on this.
[ he wishes he could; that he could contribute something, ease maine's path somehow. ]
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Appreciate it.
[ The effort, he means. Then, after he takes another sip, he circles back to Larry's power. ]
Think you'll like yours?
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maine hasn't flinched away from anything larry's said or done so far. it's enough to have him admit, after a moment: ]
I used to dream about not looking like this anymore.
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He wonders, though. Wonders what sorts of things Larry dreamed about. Wonders if those dreams ever stopped — and if they did, when and why? ]
Can, now.
[ Erase the scars, he means. ]
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Yeah.
[ he could, couldn't he? ]
I'll need to practice.
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So Maine gives what he hopes is an encouraging smile — albeit a small one, as his smiles usually are. It's genuine, at least. ]
You'll get it.
[ It's not an empty platitude. If Larry wants this bad enough, Maine believes it'll happen. ]
no subject
Thank you.
[ a moment later, with a disbelieving, somewhat self-depreciating half-laugh: ] I don't even know where to start.