[ 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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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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.