fires may rise, shadows may fall, hold on through the night (♫)
[ This whole alien monolith thing is really getting old. Like, seriously universe, find a new schtick already. Surely, there have to be other more creative ways to mess with her, but no, it's just the same old thing over and over again. But instead of being sent across space or through time, or even just having her nightmares made into reality, Daisy Johnson has been sent to an alternate universe.
It had taken a while for her to accept it. Days of searching for signs of SHIELD or her friends after she'd woken up in a random midwestern cornfield, winning another laptop in a bet in a bar in order to hack into government databases — every effort had led to the same conclusion: she's on her own here.
Her friends will come to find her, she keeps telling herself. Her family won't leave her in this universe that isn't hers, where she's a genetic freak of epic proportions who a dozen governments would love to lock up in a lab. It's just a matter of time until they figure out what happened and find a way to follow. (She purposefully doesn't allow herself to consider that they may not be able to follow her and bring her home.)
Sitting in a grungy dive bar in the middle of Indiana in the town over from that cornfield, drowning her sorrows with yet another drink seems like a great way to spend a Tuesday night. With her third beer in one hand and a cellphone purchased with stolen cash in the other, she scrolls through the various news alerts she'd set up, only half paying attention to the rest of the room. If any of the drunk assholes in the room decide to cause trouble, she'll welcome the chance to let off some steam. Until then, they're not her concern so long as they stay away from the duffel bag on the seat beside her. ]
[ Dean gets the whole please for the love of everything fucking holy, find something new, because this shit is tired af feeling insanely well. If it's not selling his soul it's an apocalypse, or it's Crowley, or it's Cas, or it's Sam (again), and Dean is tired.
He's been tired since he was in his twenties, and he's tired now, pushing into his thirties. It's exhausting, the life he leads, and while he doesn't think he deserves anything more than this particular hand of cards he's been given, it would, on occasion, be nice to have an Ace.
As it is, his brother ie Elsewhere at the moment, not in Dean's immediate vicinity, probably on a hunt with Bobby or doing God knows what, but every now and then, on occasion, they need some time apart - be it forced, mutual, or via an argument. One way or another, Sam isn't in the picture when Dean walks into the roadside bar and sits a few seats down, orders a whiskey that's cheaper than he'd like, but burns in his stomach all the same.
He'd clocked everyone when he walked in; the people by the pool table, the men lounging against the wall leering at everything with a nice chest, the lone regular at the end of the bar, the extremely out of place woman at the bar, staring at her cell phone. It's a pretty dingy place for someone who looks like her to be, but hell, Dean can't judge. Sometimes you need cheap beer and a shitty atmosphere to drown away your sorrows. ]
Buy you a beer? [ He asks her, because it looks like she's had better days, and could use more alcohol in her system. ]
[ Daisy has never been one to look down on cheap alcohol. Maybe it's from so much time spent living on friends' couches and hooking up with guys just to have a place to stay, or it could be those years of living in her van. Either way, cheap beer and the greasiest diner burgers known to man have always been a staple of her diet, even when she'd had a stable career and money in her bank account. Old habits die hard when you don't really care to kick them.
The man who walks in is yet another in a sea of strangers, though he, at least, doesn't leer at her as he sits down. There's curiosity, of course, and she can't really blame him for that, but his gaze doesn't make her desperately want a shower and that goes a long way. It's probably the main reason why she turns to him and, instead of immediately shutting him down, tilts her head to the side and studies him with passive interest. ]
Is that a 'you look like shit and could use some sympathy beer' offer or an 'I'm looking to get in your pants before the night is over' offer?
[ Choose wisely, random hot guy. She doesn't give second chances. ]
Less either of those, and more.. hey, she probably needs a drink to survive all the douchebag that have walked in this bar tonight.
[ His lips twist, wry, flashing her a half smile that barely meets his eyes. No, she doesn't look like shit. Sure, he'd enjoy getting into her pants but that's not the main goal, here. He's not after anything beyond a drink himself, and maybe some enjoyable company to pass the evening away at the bar. ]
You tell me your favorite. Beer, whiskey, wine. The world is your oyster.
Which we appreciate. The US legal system isn't exactly equipped to handle the type of weird shit we usually deal with.
Though, we could stand to have someone on retainer to handle any Inhuman cases that come up. I can't think of a better team to help these people. If you'd be interested in that sort of thing.
[ Has she been thinking about this for a while and chickening out before asking him? Yep, sure has. ]
i'm listening. though i'd want to know more about how much this is going to be retainer, verses how much it'll be a reference. as well as what the precedent you're wanting is.
I need to brush up on my legalese to be able to answer that. But basically we'd pay you to at least consider any cases that come up, or to give advice as you saw fit. You'd have final say on whether you actually did anything.
The thing is, there isn't any precedent here. The world has only known about Inhumans for a few years and things are a mess. It's only a matter of time before people start losing their jobs or their homes or their kids because some assholes are too full of hate to see that being different isn't a bad thing.
[ A few seconds later: ]
Sorry, I shouldn't have sprung it on you like this. I've just been thinking about it a lot and fearing the worst, you know? You don't have to answer now or even consider it at all. I know enhanced people can be a sensitive subject for you, so it's okay to say no.
i'll have to talk to foggy. the fact that you'd provide some financial compensation will definitely be a point in your favor.
it's not just an issue of what precedent has been set, but what you want to be set. i can help you fight for it, but i can't make any guarantees. but more information can always help.
it's fine. you might've heard that i'm friends with a few, these days.
i try to be careful with the thing inside my chest (♫)
[ Daisy arrives at the hole-in-the-wall restaurant in record time, the excitement of something to celebrate causing her to drop everything she was working on to rush over. literally, she'd deposited her laptop on her bed with enough force that it nearly bounced off, but she'd barely noticed as she scrambled to get ready. and her eagerness had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to see Eunhyuk himself; she's had a long week and could use a chance to let loose, that's all.
while she waits outside the building, too wary of entering the establishment that seems to have almost no english on display and thus doesn't bode well for someone who doesn't know a bit of korean, she busies herself looking for a congratulatory gift for Eunyoo. the girl might not want anyone to make a fuss over her accomplishments but that wasn't going to stop Daisy — she'll just do it in a way that no one else has to know about. ]
[ eunyoo takes one look at what eunhyuk is wearing and promptly tells him not to come home. he doesn't let it get to him; this a friendly outing, one of the scant few moments he feels he's earned the privilege of slacking off, and he calmly reminds his sister that she still needs to be in bed in two hours, and if she's not home when he gets back he's telling all her friends he's calling the cops on her immediately.
he's figured out her friend circle. she knows that he knows. it's a far more effective deterrent on bad behavior than anything he's ever tried.
still, despite the simple outfit, he feels like he's overdressed. he works at denny's and he's dressed in what feels like idol fashion. he even fixed his hair somewhat; ahjussi will notice. (why does he care? since when has he cared?)
the urge to flip the hood up is strong, but he's already feeling like a thumb sticking out as it is, so when he sees daisy milling about outside of mr. kim's, dressed in opposite shades as himself, eunhyuk's sigh of relief is audible.
he calls out to her when he's about a couple meters away from her, raising a hand in greeting when she turns. ]
[ turning at the sound of his voice, Daisy hates the way relief floods her chest and a tension is loosened from her shoulders. it's more of something that she can't admit, a coiling thing growing deep within that she hopes to never confront because she already knows the pain that awaits when she does. better to avoid it altogether, pretend it isn't there and go on without acknowledgment of its existence.
even if it feels like the worst lie she's ever told. ]
I was promised drinks and good food — of course, I made it.
[ it's a joke, accompanied by a small smile, but she knows he'll understand she isn't there just for the food. and no, she isn't going to admit how good he looks tonight. the clothes are just different enough and did he do something to his hair... but saying so isn't an option. there's no hiding her appreciative gaze, though, even if she does try.
oh look, there's a door. time to go inside and find something else to look at. ]
[ there's this girl, hana, who works on and off at mr. kim's grill and restaurant. they're same-age friends; they talk to one another informally, have each other's numbers saved, and because hana's family is back in south korea, they talk about the state of things back home whenever she gets a long video call.
often they complain about america's shitty wifi. sometimes they talk about missing home.
and sometimes, like now, they get digs in about each other's "dates."
this isn't a date, eunhyuk tells her in rapid korean before she can get a word out, having taken one look at daisy and then his own outfit with intense interest. we're celebrating my sister.
without eunyoo?
eunyoo's only eighteen. in korea she'd be with them, leading the drinking, but america has a higher age requirement. hana knows this. they both know she knows this. this is really just bullshit at eunhyuk's expense, well-deserved as it is. hana at least caves to good old traditional sensibilities and keeps mum in front of daisy, though she does give them a fairly private booth in the hidden open garden further into the venue.
hana leaves, and eunhyuk wastes no time in pulling daisy's chair out for her. it's the polite thing to do; he invited her out, and even if she's said she's paying, he's still somewhat hosting this outing for the both of them.
he seats himself once daisy's gotten settled, and then...
it gets a bit awkward. ]
They'll bring the stuff over in a bit. There's no written menu, just like back home.
...You look good, by the way. I haven't seen that jacket before.
( from here ) [ with every second of him wrapped around her, a little piece of the wall daisy has constructed around herself begins to crumble away. they haven't been like this before; it's been a long time since anyone was like this with her. his arms don't feel constrictive or confining, but rather supportive and protective. he isn't demanding things of her that she can't give, he's just being there when she so clearly needs someone—
those pieces of the wall crumble and the newfound openness is both terrifying and freeing. she wants to cry and cling to him like an anchor in a storm even as she is also accutely aware of his nearness, that press of his lips to her hair hinting at things she hadn't dared to hope for.
thank you — her breath catches in her throat at those words because he knows what all of this costs her. he's lived through a hell of every minute of the day feeling like it might be the last but being unable to give into the despair of it all because there were people to protect. he knows how painful and lonely it can be, and how important moments like these are in the face of that life.
she goes very still at his question, her heart racing at the implications. does she know what he means? no. is she willing to accept anything he might be offering? ]
Yes. [ the whisper is little more than a breath, almost lost on the night air. she tries again, the words straining with emotion she can't put words to. ] Yes.
[ her hand moves from the edge of the blanket down to his arm, her fingertips wrapping around the fabric of his sleeve as if to keep him from moving away. ]
"yeet", as they say (i also need to make icons that don't imply INCEST)
it's the same with words. thank you - for the times when the days have gone on for too long and there's a dead body one room over, the all-too-undeniable proof of cost that survival demands. thank you - for the days when the sky changes color, imitating the turmoil of the land, though it can never truly reflect the ink-black of dried blood across the mouth, across the knuckles.
thank you - for when your dying becomes the only way everyone else gets to live (again, and again, and again).
eunhyuk lived and died never hearing it once.
he makes a point to say it, now that he can. ]
Okay, he agrees, and that's that.
[ he sets his glass down, takes hers too, takes the bottles and sets them a safe distance away from their little huddle, and he holds her for long, steady heartbeats while the wind whips around them, daring them to find shelter from it. they don't go yet. they stay, and they breathe together, and eunhyuk dares to kiss daisy on the neck.
[ he deserves to hear those words himself. he deserves so many things he'll never get because the world isn't fair to people like them. they struggle through the worst pain imaginable so that others won't have to and they never complain about it. they place these burdens upon themselves because why not them? deep down, some part of them thinks they deserve it, even as others tell them they don't.
but she'll tell him. she'll make sure he knows that he's a good man who deserves good things. it may not be with words but she'll make him understand... somehow.
daisy doesn't expect that kiss. for a fleeting moment, she wonders if she imagined it, if her heart is making her mind believe things out of the desperate loneliness that has long sunk its claws into her chest. but his warmth is there, his steady vibration there against her skin, and she forgets how to breathe.
(home has always been a person for daisy johnson. she's been without one for so long; her treacherous heart wonders if she's finally found it again.)
hours pass in seconds before she can do anything. leaning just far enough to the side to be able to turn her head and look at him, her eyes watch his for only a moment before falling to his lips... and then there's no stopping it. those inches between them are crossed so she can press her lips to his, just sensitive skin brushing sensitive skin, a question in response to his invitation. ]
let me dream forever cause its better when i'm numb, leave me in a coma (♫)
[ seventy years had seemed like a lot. forward and then back, dealing with the whiplash of how much the world had changed and just trying to stay alive long enough to get back home. but this time, it's different. this time, she's alone, and almost four hundred years makes for some hellish jetlag. those goddamn alien monoliths. the next time she sees one, she's going to quake it to pieces before it can pull this kind of shit again.
she's been here two weeks and every minute of it has been worse than the last. the people packed in like sardines, the divide between the rich and the poor worse than it's ever been... and then there's the whole stack and sleeve thing. to say she'd been horrified when she'd first learned of it would be the understatement of the millennia.
this place is like something out of a nightmare... except even her nightmares aren't this bad.
getting information has been more difficult than back home too. not to mention getting money to pay for things. so much relies on genetic tracking, businesses conducting payment through digital means that she's still trying to find a way to crack. she'd spent her first five days sleeping in alleys and eating literal garbage before she'd found some grimey bar willing to pay her physical money for slinging drinks without asking too many questions.
because questions will get her killed. a lot of things will get her killed here. like anyone finding out about her powers. or that she doesn't have a stack. so, for once in her life, she's actively trying to stay out of trouble, which is always easier said than done. but she just has to survive until she finds a way home. she has to keep hold of hope for that otherwise she'll lose everything. at least she finally has money to afford a hotel without other residents in her room.
just take one day at a time, johnson. you can do this. ]
[Home. Harlan's World isn't his favorite shit hole he's been to but it does carry the exceptional title of being Takeshi Kovacs' birthplace. Not that he's being particularly vocal about him being here, criminal record and a long line of people looking to slag his stack. Hence the hideout, large and obvious though it may be. It seems like it's always a hotel these days, a little something to make the AI happy. Though he would vehemently deny such sentimentality if ever pressed on it.
He's returned to The Nevermore to find someone other than just Poe in the lobby. It's instinct that has him drawing a weapon, leveling it on a stranger who looks vaguely reminiscent of a face he knows almost as well as his own, one that he hasn't seen in something like thirty years. The sight of this woman, on this planet makes him especially weary though other than the passing similarity around the cheekbones that makes him think of his sister he can't quite articulate the reason why. Instead, he alternates between glaring at the woman and the AI behind the bar.]
Poe, why's there a person in this hotel? I know you've got a few screws loose but we don't do visitors. You know what happens to them.
[Poe smiles that unnerving smile of his, waving his hand to discourage his companion from shooting their newest guest. Oh how he loves having patrons to serve. He fiddles with a messy array of neon colored memo notes until he finds the right one, clicking his teeth in satisfaction as he does. "Ah. Yes of course I am familiar with your concerns, good sir, but might I suggest that you lay down your weapon and that we speak to one another as gentlemen with an appropriate amount of decorum? This is Miss Daisy. She is our guest and will be for the foreseeable future."
It's only because he knows at least a half dozen ways to kill a man with just his pinky that Kovacs humors Poe's request, setting the gun down atop the bar as he continues to eye the woman suspiciously.]
Daisy, huh? I don't know what doom and gloom over there told you, but we're fully booked. No room for any additional guests. You'll have to find another hotel that'll take your money.
You should go before I make you go. [As an afterthought and because Poe had asked him so nicely, he amends his statement, mouth slanting in a way that says it's still not a request.] Please.
[ Staying in an AI-run hotel wasn't exactly her first inclination. Years might have passed since the mess with AIDA and the Framework but she'll probably always be a bit gunshy when it comes to this sort of thing. But when the pickings are as slim as they are on this stupid planet... Well, AIDA hadn't gone batshit crazy until she read the Darkhold, so she'll have to find comfort in that.
Not that Poe is altogether sane, mind you. There are a few things off about the guy, but she does have to admit there's something charming about him. Maybe it's just finding someone on this planet who actually has decent manners.
Unlike the asshole who'd just interrupted their delightful conversation and threatened to shoot her. An asshole who looked a whole lot like Sam Wilson — except Captain America's friend wouldn't have used the threat of violence as a substitute for Hello. Despite never having met the man, just the sight of him standing before her makes Daisy feel desperately lonely. A familiar face who isn't familiar at all...
The universe really does hate her.
She doesn't flinch at the gun, doesn't glare at the asshole or fling insults at him like so many others might. She doesn't run screaming or beg for forgiveness. No, she just leans an elbow against the bar and lets loose a deep, weary sigh. ]
Actually, there isn't another living human in this entire building. [ Let him make his own assumptions about how she knows that. Surely, there's some sort of tech augment people have these days that could scan a building for heat signatures. ] And our friend here said I could have the pick of rooms, so "fully booked" is a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?
[ So maybe she should be turning tail and running for her life before the guy gets trigger happy. Maybe it's stupid to make a stand and try to gently argue her way into staying. But she's Daisy Johnson — she might not have a death wish anymore but that doesn't mean she's done making moderately dumb decisions. ]
Look, I don't want to cause you any trouble. I just need somewhere to stay that isn't a complete shithole with a rainbow of stains on the floor, something living in the walls, and someone cooking up the latest street drug down the hall. [ She raises her hands in an almost surrender-like way, even if that's the furthest thing from what she's doing. ] Don't want me in your business? I'll stay out of it. Hell, I'll even climb out the window if you don't want me in the lobby.
[ Is she trying to play a sympathy card? Maybe. Trying to appeal to whatever modicum of decency might exist in this man? Perhaps. But she's also being genuine, not hiding behind a mask like her spy instincts are screaming at her to do. If he's looking, he'll see that thread of desperation in her, along with the weight of exhaustion on her shoulders. And underneath everything else, maybe a little bit of fear.
[She doesn't flee. Doesn't cower. She doesn't even really tremble, just lets out some kind of tired sigh like she's seen the business end of a weapon enough times that it's stopped being something concerning and holds her own with some mouthy reply, calling him out on his bullshit.
Just as much as there are ways to scan for heat signatures where someone might have their ONI offline, there are ways to hide in plain sight. His sister's now RD'ed enforcer being but just one instance. Still, the technology isn't cheap or especially prevalent, so it's much more likely that Daisy has scanned the hotel for other signs of life, or gone the old-fashioned route and snooped its floors. The Nevermore isn't exactly the height of luxury, so security measures are fairly scant. It's a far cry from the way things had been in Bay City. Color him curious.]
He did? Did he?
[Leave it to Poe to roll out the metaphorical red carpet despite explicit instruction otherwise. He knows that these AI's usually crave company like an addict craves their latest hit, but Kovacs senses that this must not be one of those situations. Up until now he'd been fairly accommodating of the strict set of rules to avoid detection. Whoever this woman is, she must have some sort of inherent value. Maybe she'll be useful while he's here.]
You haven't tried to lay me out, so I'll let it slide that Poe's made an executive decision without consulting with people who know better.
[Poe chooses that moment to look away from them both and clean the already spotless glasses at the bar. Kovacs takes the moment to take a few large strides toward Daisy until he's within arm's reach.]
But people don't usually come to Harlan's World unless they've got business with the founding family, the Yakuza, or are looking to hide from someone else. So which is it?
it is not clear why we choose the fire pathway, where we end is not the way that we had planned(♫)
[ It's always the seemingly simple missions that go the most pear-shaped. Just a quick stop to introduce themselves and establish a new connection for SHIELD. Easy. Absolutely no potential for trouble whatsoever.
She should have known better.
Somehow, a fight broke out. She was separated from her team and had come face to face with another of those damn alien monoliths, which had sucked her up to who knows where. She'd been spat out the other side and deposited on a random planet that was apparently incredibly far away from Earth, and the locals had dropped her in a jail cell when they found her passed out.
Waking up on a freezing cold stone floor with a splitting headache is delightful, truly a high point of her life. But at least she's not drugged like the last time she'd woken up somewhere with straw all over the floor. She can still use her powers and move her body, it just... takes her a while to get past the nausea and disorientation. Long enough to have a few visitors demanding answers that she responds to with questions. They go a few frustrating rounds before she's left alone again to put together the pieces of the puzzle.
She's not back on Earth, that's for sure. They look human but there's something in the way they speak and dress, little eccentricities that seem to be the norm. But humans don't have a large presence off of Earth yet, so what gives?
The crash of the quaked-open cell door ricochets off the stone walls and she doesn't wait around to see if the old-timey dress comes with pitchfork accessories. She emerges into an equally old-fashioned little town, in which she sticks out like a sore thumb in her suit, so she keeps running. Out of the town, through a winding forest path, and into a clearing with a—
This was supposed to be a calm and quiet planet. Quiet enough that he'd been left on his own in the ruins without the rest of the team.
There is, of course, the rest of the base personnel - but this is the Beta site, and he's investigating temple ruins here - there's hardly much expected of it. Specifically, there's not a lot of violence expected - so very, very few soldiers.
He's heading back to the gate when he sees her. The woman who absolutely doesn't belong. It's sudden, too, as he emerges from the treeline, less than ten feet from where she does.
Immediately, out of instinct and - oh so many incidents - he goes for his pistol. Because she does not look calm and eager to talk.
It takes her a moment to notice the new arrival, she's so wrapped up in the adrenaline-fueled panic of trying to figure out what to do. She doesn't have comms, and even if she did, she could be anywhere and anywhen thanks to that damn monolith. The realization that she might never see her team crashes into her and tries to drag her under.
But then there it is, an awareness of another person near her, honed by years of training and her powers growing with time. She turns, sees the weapon in his hand, and raises her own without a second thought. The pieces of the pistol shake apart in his hands and tumble to the ground in less than three seconds. Only when the immediate threat has been taken care of does she notice that the guy isn't from around here either.
With her hand still raised toward him, she frowns and asks almost accusatorily, "Are you from Earth?"
suffering is easy when i'm sleeping through the pain (♫)
[ The days tend to blend together when you spend them sequestered inside concrete tunnels, the hours spinning into each other as information is piled up, analyzed, and manipulated by new strands of code. If she thinks hard about it, Daisy could count how many days have passed since her arrival at the Shatterdome, but does it really matter? The searches she's had running in the background still haven't turned up anything, so throwing herself into this new mission is really all she has.
At least, she isn't alone anymore.
Newt's done a decent job of getting her up to speed on things in the lab, showing her around and humoring her questions when she doesn't understand half of the science stuff that comes out of his mouth. Sure, she can pick up a good amount through context, but when she's responsible for data analysis, the finer details tend to be pretty important. Newt has also gotten to hear her rather colorful complaints about the programming they've been working with, some of which she's had to rewrite from scratch because whatever hack put it together before had left so much digital ducttape everywhere that it's a wonder they've been able to get anything done. It's made for long nights and little sleep — which, to be honest, is how she likes it.
This is one of those days. She'd wandered off to bed maybe five hours ago and lasted only three before waking up from a nightmare that nearly left her quaking. A round on the treadmill helps, somewhat, but she doesn't even try going back to bed, just heading straight for the lab. There are two mugs of coffee on her desk (one empty and one sadly lukewarm) where she sits hunched over with her legs tucked up into the chair, huddling in the warmth of the hoodie she'd zipped on over her workout clothes. Her fingers fly across the keys and she's completely oblivious of anything else beyond the code cascading down her screen. ]
[It's ass o'clock in the morning when Newt stumbles his way into the lab looking shaken and disheveled. His eyes are wide and sleepless with the beginnings of dark circles forming beneath and his face looks pale. His hair is in a state of disarray, made worse as he runs his hands through it and tugs at it. His clothes too are looking extra rumpled as though he woke up in them moments ago and came directly to the lab after rolling out of bed. One side of his shirt is untucked and hanging loose out of his pants; his sleeves are rolled up unevenly over tattooed forearms and the top two buttons on his shirt are undone, exposing a V of inked chest skin and collar bones. His tie is MIA.
Newt blinks his eyes owlishly in the light of the lab as if he wasn't expecting them to be on at this hour and he looks visibly startled when he sees Daisy sitting there at her desk. His voice sounds rough but relieved when he speaks.]
Oh, hey, Daisy. You're up pretty late... Or early.
[He smiles awkwardly, both because he's actually relieved by her company and because he knows he looks like he's half mad and is trying to act perfectly normal in these wee hours of the night/day.]
[ It's not until he speaks that she notices him there at all, looking over expectantly and then frowning slightly. Damn, Newt. ]
And it looks like I'm not the only one who's had a shitty night.
[ She reaches for the not-empty cup of coffee and then grimaces down into it, thinking better of the decision to take a sip. Instead, she turns to fully face him, giving Newt a good once-over and taking in all the signs. He's never seemed completely put-together, something always a little disheveled about him that she actually kind of likes, but this... There's something more to this. It's clear as day, which she hasn't seen in far too many hours, and it makes her want to do something about it, because as usual, it's easier to worry about everyone else instead of herself. ]
I need more coffee. And food. How about we go scrounge something up before getting back into it? [ It's too early for breakfast but surely they could find a snack somewhere. If he's not sleeping well, then he should at least eat something. ]
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through the darkness — for infractus
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He's been tired since he was in his twenties, and he's tired now, pushing into his thirties. It's exhausting, the life he leads, and while he doesn't think he deserves anything more than this particular hand of cards he's been given, it would, on occasion, be nice to have an Ace.
As it is, his brother ie Elsewhere at the moment, not in Dean's immediate vicinity, probably on a hunt with Bobby or doing God knows what, but every now and then, on occasion, they need some time apart - be it forced, mutual, or via an argument. One way or another, Sam isn't in the picture when Dean walks into the roadside bar and sits a few seats down, orders a whiskey that's cheaper than he'd like, but burns in his stomach all the same.
He'd clocked everyone when he walked in; the people by the pool table, the men lounging against the wall leering at everything with a nice chest, the lone regular at the end of the bar, the extremely out of place woman at the bar, staring at her cell phone. It's a pretty dingy place for someone who looks like her to be, but hell, Dean can't judge. Sometimes you need cheap beer and a shitty atmosphere to drown away your sorrows. ]
Buy you a beer? [ He asks her, because it looks like she's had better days, and could use more alcohol in her system. ]
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The man who walks in is yet another in a sea of strangers, though he, at least, doesn't leer at her as he sits down. There's curiosity, of course, and she can't really blame him for that, but his gaze doesn't make her desperately want a shower and that goes a long way. It's probably the main reason why she turns to him and, instead of immediately shutting him down, tilts her head to the side and studies him with passive interest. ]
Is that a 'you look like shit and could use some sympathy beer' offer or an 'I'm looking to get in your pants before the night is over' offer?
[ Choose wisely, random hot guy. She doesn't give second chances. ]
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[ His lips twist, wry, flashing her a half smile that barely meets his eyes. No, she doesn't look like shit. Sure, he'd enjoy getting into her pants but that's not the main goal, here. He's not after anything beyond a drink himself, and maybe some enjoyable company to pass the evening away at the bar. ]
You tell me your favorite. Beer, whiskey, wine. The world is your oyster.
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nice, DW didn't send me this notif :|
ugh i hate the notif issue so much
it's unbelievably obnoxious and seems to target this account of mine, specifically
how very rude of it
tfln — for caecitas
Which we appreciate. The US legal system isn't exactly equipped to handle the type of weird shit we usually deal with.
Though, we could stand to have someone on retainer to handle any Inhuman cases that come up. I can't think of a better team to help these people. If you'd be interested in that sort of thing.
[ Has she been thinking about this for a while and chickening out before asking him? Yep, sure has. ]
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though i'd want to know more about how much this is going to be retainer, verses how much it'll be a reference.
as well as what the precedent you're wanting is.
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The thing is, there isn't any precedent here. The world has only known about Inhumans for a few years and things are a mess. It's only a matter of time before people start losing their jobs or their homes or their kids because some assholes are too full of hate to see that being different isn't a bad thing.
[ A few seconds later: ]
Sorry, I shouldn't have sprung it on you like this. I've just been thinking about it a lot and fearing the worst, you know? You don't have to answer now or even consider it at all. I know enhanced people can be a sensitive subject for you, so it's okay to say no.
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it's not just an issue of what precedent has been set, but what you want to be set. i can help you fight for it, but i can't make any guarantees.
but more information can always help.
it's fine. you might've heard that i'm friends with a few, these days.
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celebrating — for figured
screams softly
he's figured out her friend circle. she knows that he knows. it's a far more effective deterrent on bad behavior than anything he's ever tried.
still, despite the simple outfit, he feels like he's overdressed. he works at denny's and he's dressed in what feels like idol fashion. he even fixed his hair somewhat; ahjussi will notice. (why does he care? since when has he cared?)
the urge to flip the hood up is strong, but he's already feeling like a thumb sticking out as it is, so when he sees daisy milling about outside of mr. kim's, dressed in opposite shades as himself, eunhyuk's sigh of relief is audible.
he calls out to her when he's about a couple meters away from her, raising a hand in greeting when she turns. ]
Hey. You made it.
oh yes, we're doing this
even if it feels like the worst lie she's ever told. ]
I was promised drinks and good food — of course, I made it.
[ it's a joke, accompanied by a small smile, but she knows he'll understand she isn't there just for the food. and no, she isn't going to admit how good he looks tonight. the clothes are just different enough and did he do something to his hair... but saying so isn't an option. there's no hiding her appreciative gaze, though, even if she does try.
oh look, there's a door. time to go inside and find something else to look at. ]
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often they complain about america's shitty wifi. sometimes they talk about missing home.
and sometimes, like now, they get digs in about each other's "dates."
this isn't a date, eunhyuk tells her in rapid korean before she can get a word out, having taken one look at daisy and then his own outfit with intense interest. we're celebrating my sister.
without eunyoo?
eunyoo's only eighteen. in korea she'd be with them, leading the drinking, but america has a higher age requirement. hana knows this. they both know she knows this. this is really just bullshit at eunhyuk's expense, well-deserved as it is. hana at least caves to good old traditional sensibilities and keeps mum in front of daisy, though she does give them a fairly private booth in the hidden open garden further into the venue.
hana leaves, and eunhyuk wastes no time in pulling daisy's chair out for her. it's the polite thing to do; he invited her out, and even if she's said she's paying, he's still somewhat hosting this outing for the both of them.
he seats himself once daisy's gotten settled, and then...
it gets a bit awkward. ]
They'll bring the stuff over in a bit. There's no written menu, just like back home.
...You look good, by the way. I haven't seen that jacket before.
[ well, that was as smooth as a chipped brick. ]
i can't with these two
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tfln — for figured
[ with every second of him wrapped around her, a little piece of the wall daisy has constructed around herself begins to crumble away. they haven't been like this before; it's been a long time since anyone was like this with her. his arms don't feel constrictive or confining, but rather supportive and protective. he isn't demanding things of her that she can't give, he's just being there when she so clearly needs someone—
those pieces of the wall crumble and the newfound openness is both terrifying and freeing. she wants to cry and cling to him like an anchor in a storm even as she is also accutely aware of his nearness, that press of his lips to her hair hinting at things she hadn't dared to hope for.
thank you — her breath catches in her throat at those words because he knows what all of this costs her. he's lived through a hell of every minute of the day feeling like it might be the last but being unable to give into the despair of it all because there were people to protect. he knows how painful and lonely it can be, and how important moments like these are in the face of that life.
she goes very still at his question, her heart racing at the implications. does she know what he means? no. is she willing to accept anything he might be offering? ]
Yes. [ the whisper is little more than a breath, almost lost on the night air. she tries again, the words straining with emotion she can't put words to. ] Yes.
[ her hand moves from the edge of the blanket down to his arm, her fingertips wrapping around the fabric of his sleeve as if to keep him from moving away. ]
"yeet", as they say (i also need to make icons that don't imply INCEST)
it's the same with words. thank you - for the times when the days have gone on for too long and there's a dead body one room over, the all-too-undeniable proof of cost that survival demands. thank you - for the days when the sky changes color, imitating the turmoil of the land, though it can never truly reflect the ink-black of dried blood across the mouth, across the knuckles.
thank you - for when your dying becomes the only way everyone else gets to live (again, and again, and again).
eunhyuk lived and died never hearing it once.
he makes a point to say it, now that he can. ]
Okay, he agrees, and that's that.
[ he sets his glass down, takes hers too, takes the bottles and sets them a safe distance away from their little huddle, and he holds her for long, steady heartbeats while the wind whips around them, daring them to find shelter from it. they don't go yet. they stay, and they breathe together, and eunhyuk dares to kiss daisy on the neck.
(it feels a bit like coming home.) ]
oh damn, here we go (the icon struggle is real)
but she'll tell him. she'll make sure he knows that he's a good man who deserves good things. it may not be with words but she'll make him understand... somehow.
daisy doesn't expect that kiss. for a fleeting moment, she wonders if she imagined it, if her heart is making her mind believe things out of the desperate loneliness that has long sunk its claws into her chest. but his warmth is there, his steady vibration there against her skin, and she forgets how to breathe.
(home has always been a person for daisy johnson. she's been without one for so long; her treacherous heart wonders if she's finally found it again.)
hours pass in seconds before she can do anything. leaning just far enough to the side to be able to turn her head and look at him, her eyes watch his for only a moment before falling to his lips... and then there's no stopping it. those inches between them are crossed so she can press her lips to his, just sensitive skin brushing sensitive skin, a question in response to his invitation. ]
a living nightmare — for kovacs
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He's returned to The Nevermore to find someone other than just Poe in the lobby. It's instinct that has him drawing a weapon, leveling it on a stranger who looks vaguely reminiscent of a face he knows almost as well as his own, one that he hasn't seen in something like thirty years. The sight of this woman, on this planet makes him especially weary though other than the passing similarity around the cheekbones that makes him think of his sister he can't quite articulate the reason why. Instead, he alternates between glaring at the woman and the AI behind the bar.]
Poe, why's there a person in this hotel? I know you've got a few screws loose but we don't do visitors. You know what happens to them.
[Poe smiles that unnerving smile of his, waving his hand to discourage his companion from shooting their newest guest. Oh how he loves having patrons to serve. He fiddles with a messy array of neon colored memo notes until he finds the right one, clicking his teeth in satisfaction as he does. "Ah. Yes of course I am familiar with your concerns, good sir, but might I suggest that you lay down your weapon and that we speak to one another as gentlemen with an appropriate amount of decorum? This is Miss Daisy. She is our guest and will be for the foreseeable future."
It's only because he knows at least a half dozen ways to kill a man with just his pinky that Kovacs humors Poe's request, setting the gun down atop the bar as he continues to eye the woman suspiciously.]
Daisy, huh? I don't know what doom and gloom over there told you, but we're fully booked. No room for any additional guests. You'll have to find another hotel that'll take your money.
You should go before I make you go. [As an afterthought and because Poe had asked him so nicely, he amends his statement, mouth slanting in a way that says it's still not a request.] Please.
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Not that Poe is altogether sane, mind you. There are a few things off about the guy, but she does have to admit there's something charming about him. Maybe it's just finding someone on this planet who actually has decent manners.
Unlike the asshole who'd just interrupted their delightful conversation and threatened to shoot her. An asshole who looked a whole lot like Sam Wilson — except Captain America's friend wouldn't have used the threat of violence as a substitute for Hello. Despite never having met the man, just the sight of him standing before her makes Daisy feel desperately lonely. A familiar face who isn't familiar at all...
The universe really does hate her.
She doesn't flinch at the gun, doesn't glare at the asshole or fling insults at him like so many others might. She doesn't run screaming or beg for forgiveness. No, she just leans an elbow against the bar and lets loose a deep, weary sigh. ]
Actually, there isn't another living human in this entire building. [ Let him make his own assumptions about how she knows that. Surely, there's some sort of tech augment people have these days that could scan a building for heat signatures. ] And our friend here said I could have the pick of rooms, so "fully booked" is a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?
[ So maybe she should be turning tail and running for her life before the guy gets trigger happy. Maybe it's stupid to make a stand and try to gently argue her way into staying. But she's Daisy Johnson — she might not have a death wish anymore but that doesn't mean she's done making moderately dumb decisions. ]
Look, I don't want to cause you any trouble. I just need somewhere to stay that isn't a complete shithole with a rainbow of stains on the floor, something living in the walls, and someone cooking up the latest street drug down the hall. [ She raises her hands in an almost surrender-like way, even if that's the furthest thing from what she's doing. ] Don't want me in your business? I'll stay out of it. Hell, I'll even climb out the window if you don't want me in the lobby.
[ Is she trying to play a sympathy card? Maybe. Trying to appeal to whatever modicum of decency might exist in this man? Perhaps. But she's also being genuine, not hiding behind a mask like her spy instincts are screaming at her to do. If he's looking, he'll see that thread of desperation in her, along with the weight of exhaustion on her shoulders. And underneath everything else, maybe a little bit of fear.
She hates being afraid. ]
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Just as much as there are ways to scan for heat signatures where someone might have their ONI offline, there are ways to hide in plain sight. His sister's now RD'ed enforcer being but just one instance. Still, the technology isn't cheap or especially prevalent, so it's much more likely that Daisy has scanned the hotel for other signs of life, or gone the old-fashioned route and snooped its floors. The Nevermore isn't exactly the height of luxury, so security measures are fairly scant. It's a far cry from the way things had been in Bay City. Color him curious.]
He did? Did he?
[Leave it to Poe to roll out the metaphorical red carpet despite explicit instruction otherwise. He knows that these AI's usually crave company like an addict craves their latest hit, but Kovacs senses that this must not be one of those situations. Up until now he'd been fairly accommodating of the strict set of rules to avoid detection. Whoever this woman is, she must have some sort of inherent value. Maybe she'll be useful while he's here.]
You haven't tried to lay me out, so I'll let it slide that Poe's made an executive decision without consulting with people who know better.
[Poe chooses that moment to look away from them both and clean the already spotless glasses at the bar. Kovacs takes the moment to take a few large strides toward Daisy until he's within arm's reach.]
But people don't usually come to Harlan's World unless they've got business with the founding family, the Yakuza, or are looking to hide from someone else. So which is it?
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in a strange land — for daniel jackson
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There is, of course, the rest of the base personnel - but this is the Beta site, and he's investigating temple ruins here - there's hardly much expected of it. Specifically, there's not a lot of violence expected - so very, very few soldiers.
He's heading back to the gate when he sees her. The woman who absolutely doesn't belong. It's sudden, too, as he emerges from the treeline, less than ten feet from where she does.
Immediately, out of instinct and - oh so many incidents - he goes for his pistol. Because she does not look calm and eager to talk.
oh so many incidents lmao
But then there it is, an awareness of another person near her, honed by years of training and her powers growing with time. She turns, sees the weapon in his hand, and raises her own without a second thought. The pieces of the pistol shake apart in his hands and tumble to the ground in less than three seconds. Only when the immediate threat has been taken care of does she notice that the guy isn't from around here either.
With her hand still raised toward him, she frowns and asks almost accusatorily, "Are you from Earth?"
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a danger to myself — for newt
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Newt blinks his eyes owlishly in the light of the lab as if he wasn't expecting them to be on at this hour and he looks visibly startled when he sees Daisy sitting there at her desk. His voice sounds rough but relieved when he speaks.]
Oh, hey, Daisy. You're up pretty late... Or early.
[He smiles awkwardly, both because he's actually relieved by her company and because he knows he looks like he's half mad and is trying to act perfectly normal in these wee hours of the night/day.]
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And it looks like I'm not the only one who's had a shitty night.
[ She reaches for the not-empty cup of coffee and then grimaces down into it, thinking better of the decision to take a sip. Instead, she turns to fully face him, giving Newt a good once-over and taking in all the signs. He's never seemed completely put-together, something always a little disheveled about him that she actually kind of likes, but this... There's something more to this. It's clear as day, which she hasn't seen in far too many hours, and it makes her want to do something about it, because as usual, it's easier to worry about everyone else instead of herself. ]
I need more coffee. And food. How about we go scrounge something up before getting back into it? [ It's too early for breakfast but surely they could find a snack somewhere. If he's not sleeping well, then he should at least eat something. ]
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