feels like i'm falling into a world i can't control (♫)
[ Sleep is not kind to Daisy Johnson. It never has been. As a child, she dreamed of parents who never came to rescue her, of mean scary nuns who showed little kindness to her, and of the foster families who no longer wanted her. The loneliness of her waking life was infinitely better than the life she found in dreams — something that did not change as she got older. With each new tragedy, the arsenal of nightmares stacked against her grew both in number and strength. Betrayals and losses, emotional and physical trauma, she was plagued by the original memories as well as twisted versions of them that were often even worse than what she experienced firsthand.
The solution to this problem is, obviously, to sleep as little as humanly possible. Coffee is her best friend, helping her stay awake and alert through the deprivation, and when she does have to finally get some rest, she works out until she's on the verge of exhaustion in the hopes of collapsing into a dreamless nothing for a few hours. It works sometimes, but more often than not she's waking up crying or shaking or screaming in the early hours of the morning, the room shaking from her powers activating as her body's instinctive reaction to fear. Sleeping anywhere but her own quarters is never a good idea for that very reason — she needs the power-absorbing panels lining the walls of her bedroom or she might bring the building down.
Tonight, it's the barn that haunts her, except this time Malick turns his attention to Sousa first. She has to watch as the SHIELD legend is dragged out of the room, powerless to help him, and then his screams fill the building. When they dump his body back in the room with her, there's nothing she can do except hold on to him as he slips into unconsciousness. And then they come for her.
Daisy wakes with a scream in her throat, each shuddering breath like razors as she struggles to calm her racing heart. The adrenaline spike leaves her shaking as she climbs out of bed, gets dressed, and grabs her phone and keys. There's an all-hours diner down the street with not-too-terrible coffee where she can wait out the rest of the night. It won't be the first time she's rolled in hours before dawn. ]
[Why is he here? Perhaps he is feeling... listless.
And this is a pleasant enough spot to be listless in, where he can watch others come and go with muted curiosity but few will return the interest. Not if he seats himself in a corner, with a warm cup of coffee to nurse in his hands for a while.
It's a barren place at the moment, few tables occupied with wary travelers, with those who have their reasons for not being in bed at the moment.
The woman who follows him in seems... restless, he thinks. There's a brief moment where their eyes meet before he is moving to the counter where a waitress is busy at the moment, wiping it down, before she takes note of either of them.
His order is simple, when she greets him with a smile and asks his order. Coffee, black. He doesn't need anything else beyond a corner perhaps to tuck himself away in.]
[ People watching is a common enough pastime in a place like this. It's certainly how Daisy's planning to spend the hours ahead, watching passersby and maybe doing some light work on her phone. Or doing a ridiculous amount of work on her phone, depending on how many interesting people happen by.
Though interesting may have just walked into the diner with her. He looks like the sort of person to be awake at this ungodly hour, but there's something about him... She can't quite put her finger on it, but that single look they shared tugged at her thoughts. Despite that, it's not enough to convince her to approach him, not when she's fuzzy with sleep deprivation and in desperate need of coffee herself.
Keeping distance between them, she steps up to the counter as well, not wanting to drag the waitress away from her work, especially when it's someone she's seen here before. Apparently, the recognition is mutual because the woman gives her same fairly genuine smile she'd given Interesting Guy and asks, "Back again, huh?"
Daisy shrugs with a tired smirk. ] Sleep is overrated. Coffee isn't though.
[ Taking the hint, their waitress nods, smile still in place. "Two coffees coming up." ]
[It is hardly his intention to strike up conversation, to do more than find a quiet corner. But it would be rather difficult to miss the sleep deprivation clear on the other's face, even if she weren't standing beside him waiting for a cup to be passed her way as well.
Something has piqued his interest, enough to veer from his original intentions of silence, of watching.
Even if the company is short-lived, perhaps it wouldn't be so terrible to have tonight.]
[ His voice isn't what she would have expected just from looking at him. There's a measured depth to it that catches her interest now that he has her attention, the words slow and deliberate as if he'd chosen them carefully. It's a strange impression but not a negative one. ]
What gave it away? The desperate need for coffee at 3 AM or my cheery demeanor?
[ Sarcasm is her lifeblood but she gives him a small smile to be sure he understands she doesn't mean the comment in a dismissive or harsh way. As the waitress retrieves two mugs and sets them on the counter, Daisy glances past the strange but intriguing man to the row of booths against the windows. There's one in the back corner that's her usual spot, and when the smell of freshly poured coffee fills the air around them, she nods toward the booths. ]
Wanna join me?
[ If he turns out to be a psycho, she'll handle it, and if he's boring, she'll make up a "work emergency" to escape. But if she's lucky (which isn't often), he'll help her pass the time. ]
The familiarity as well. You must have trouble often.
[There was recognition from the waitress at least. It implies she is here often enough. At the question, there's a momentary debate before he gives a nod. It isn't how he intended to spend his night, but-- it isn't an unappealing prospect either.]
[ Daisy doesn't address the accurate assessment that she's here too often for someone with a healthy relationship with sleep — not yet, though she does make a note of how observant he is. It's another piece of the puzzle, a ticked box, a mark in the column of good qualities to have.
Offering another smile, she nods in acknowledgment and steps past him, heading for that booth. She slides into the side against the wall, the material of the cushioned seat worn but not yet cracked. Her mug of coffee is set on the table before she reaches to the little container by the window, stuffed full with a variety of sugar and sugar-substitute packets. Three packets are plucked out without thought and quickly lined up along the edge of the table. It's comforting and familiar, something steady that she can control in the chaos of her life, and only when the packets are in place does she look up at her companion. When he's joined her: ]
So we've established I'm here too much. What about you?
[ His first time. Of all the gin joints. She plucks out a new sugar packet and tears the paper before sprinkling it into her coffee, then does the same with a little pod of creamer. ]
Yeah, that's a good word for it. Couldn't sleep, it was too early for work, didn't want to be alone... Drinking semi-bad coffee with a stranger seemed a better option than going back to the nightmares.
[ This is more open and revealing than she would normally be, but there's a strange sort of freedom in speaking with a total stranger she'll likely never see again. It's almost confessional. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
won't you wake me up —
no subject
And this is a pleasant enough spot to be listless in, where he can watch others come and go with muted curiosity but few will return the interest. Not if he seats himself in a corner, with a warm cup of coffee to nurse in his hands for a while.
It's a barren place at the moment, few tables occupied with wary travelers, with those who have their reasons for not being in bed at the moment.
The woman who follows him in seems... restless, he thinks. There's a brief moment where their eyes meet before he is moving to the counter where a waitress is busy at the moment, wiping it down, before she takes note of either of them.
His order is simple, when she greets him with a smile and asks his order. Coffee, black. He doesn't need anything else beyond a corner perhaps to tuck himself away in.]
no subject
Though interesting may have just walked into the diner with her. He looks like the sort of person to be awake at this ungodly hour, but there's something about him... She can't quite put her finger on it, but that single look they shared tugged at her thoughts. Despite that, it's not enough to convince her to approach him, not when she's fuzzy with sleep deprivation and in desperate need of coffee herself.
Keeping distance between them, she steps up to the counter as well, not wanting to drag the waitress away from her work, especially when it's someone she's seen here before. Apparently, the recognition is mutual because the woman gives her same fairly genuine smile she'd given Interesting Guy and asks, "Back again, huh?"
Daisy shrugs with a tired smirk. ] Sleep is overrated. Coffee isn't though.
[ Taking the hint, their waitress nods, smile still in place. "Two coffees coming up." ]
no subject
[It is hardly his intention to strike up conversation, to do more than find a quiet corner. But it would be rather difficult to miss the sleep deprivation clear on the other's face, even if she weren't standing beside him waiting for a cup to be passed her way as well.
Something has piqued his interest, enough to veer from his original intentions of silence, of watching.
Even if the company is short-lived, perhaps it wouldn't be so terrible to have tonight.]
no subject
What gave it away? The desperate need for coffee at 3 AM or my cheery demeanor?
[ Sarcasm is her lifeblood but she gives him a small smile to be sure he understands she doesn't mean the comment in a dismissive or harsh way. As the waitress retrieves two mugs and sets them on the counter, Daisy glances past the strange but intriguing man to the row of booths against the windows. There's one in the back corner that's her usual spot, and when the smell of freshly poured coffee fills the air around them, she nods toward the booths. ]
Wanna join me?
[ If he turns out to be a psycho, she'll handle it, and if he's boring, she'll make up a "work emergency" to escape. But if she's lucky (which isn't often), he'll help her pass the time. ]
no subject
[There was recognition from the waitress at least. It implies she is here often enough. At the question, there's a momentary debate before he gives a nod. It isn't how he intended to spend his night, but-- it isn't an unappealing prospect either.]
Yes, I think I would like that.
no subject
Offering another smile, she nods in acknowledgment and steps past him, heading for that booth. She slides into the side against the wall, the material of the cushioned seat worn but not yet cracked. Her mug of coffee is set on the table before she reaches to the little container by the window, stuffed full with a variety of sugar and sugar-substitute packets. Three packets are plucked out without thought and quickly lined up along the edge of the table. It's comforting and familiar, something steady that she can control in the chaos of her life, and only when the packets are in place does she look up at her companion. When he's joined her: ]
So we've established I'm here too much. What about you?
no subject
[His eyes trail down to the sugar she meticulously lines up. He shifts a bit in his seat, allows his eyes to trail up towards hers.]
I suppose I was... restless. Is that what brings you here?
sorry to disappear, i never got this notif!
Yeah, that's a good word for it. Couldn't sleep, it was too early for work, didn't want to be alone... Drinking semi-bad coffee with a stranger seemed a better option than going back to the nightmares.
[ This is more open and revealing than she would normally be, but there's a strange sort of freedom in speaking with a total stranger she'll likely never see again. It's almost confessional. ]