Participants:
| Scene Title | Jealousy |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Tension springs from an unusual source, the the lack of understanding of women is shared by two men. |
| Date | June 6, 2011 |
Endgame Safehouse
It didn't actually take that long for Graeme to get Devon settled, in the spare empty room that Graeme usually crashes in when he's at the safehouse overnight. But it's his night for watch and the teacher has slept rather recently, so he's not using the sleeping bag tonight. Despite his talk about not tempting curfew, it was well after curfew but before bedtime when Graeme slipped from the safehouse to pick up the rest of the bag of supplies from the car, and to change where he was parked to somewhere fairly unobtrusive. Somewhere he could be parked for days without anyone really caring, and with the cover on the car, no one will care.
And some time sooner than later, he'll pick up another one, and some of Devon's things if possible, or things that will fit the teenager, in any case. And then, eventually, most of the residents of the safehouse had gone off to sleep, leaving Graeme sitting comfortably crosslegged with a blanket and a book in the room nearest the entryway, rather on the alert. Messenger bag and duffel bag and several canvas bags next to him, so that he can get to his things rather than risk disturbing what little sleep that Devon might be able to get.
The page turns again. It's more of very early morning than night now, and Graeme's gotten himself coffee, another meal with the heated up leftovers of dinner, and just very recently returned to his claimed spot. The coffee is very securely set on the ground next to him, where both the M9 and the revolver sit. Both of them, because he's on watch, loaded and ready. He's quiet, mainly focusing on the tales of the Norse gods in the book of mythology that rests in his lap, halfway thinking about the lesson plans for the coming week, and very much kicking himself for getting out of touch with things. There's an undercurrent of frustration at the need to keep himself aboveground and safe, when it feels much more like being sheltered from what is going on, and the page turns again, a pause for the teacher to sip from his coffee.
Remi fell asleep shortly after curling up with Jaiden after her terrifying ordeal. Turns out that terror makes you really tired. She was a little freaked by the negation, because when you're used to the background noise, silence is almost deafening; however, it was moreso the shooting at people and being shot at that freaked her out. But thankfully, she wasn't damaged. Just a little bit dirty after crawling around in the dirt.
Her early bedtime means an early wakeup time, too. And the familiar voice sounding in her head, with her ability blanketing the safehouse and its enterance from her bedroom above the front door, is a rather pleasant way to wake up. She rolls out of the bed, rather quickly switching into some PJs conveniently stolen from Jaiden's bags, a pair of soft pants and a baggy t-shirt. And oversized socks to cover up her somewhat deformed ballet dancer feet.
Then, it's down the stairs she goes, as quickly as she can. Her destination is the entryway, and she only gives Graeme enough time to notice that someone is stampeding down the stairs before she's leaping on Graeme, halfway draping herself across his shoulders. "Graeme~!" She practically sings it, wrapping her arms around him in an enthusiastic hug.
"Christ, don't surprise the person on watch alright, s'il vous plaît," is the response, the drawl mildly butchering the French words on the end of his request, the first acknowledgement that Graeme gives. "And don't you dare knock over my coffee." It takes a long moment, though not really longer than a few seconds, before the gun gets released, and awkwardly, his arm comes up to wrap around her shoulders for a moment.
"I'm glad to see you, but god, Remi, it's three thirty-six in the morning, lower your voice before you wake everyone else up. You've probably woken the lightest sleepers just by greeting me, and stampeding down the stairs isn't wise either, alright?" He points to the empty bit of wall near him, though not right next to him — that's where his coffee is, and the coffee seems to be the most important part of things at the moment — and gestures for her to sit. Apparently after that, though, the chastising is over. Or at least, it will be if she heeds his words and is more quiet.
There was precious little sleep found for Devon once he'd been stashed away in Graeme's room. The night was spent mostly staring into the darkness while the experience continued to play out in his head. The couple of times sleep had overtaken him were stolen away after only minutes. Lucky for him, nothing came so terrifying that he disgraced himself by crying out.
Eventually the teenager gave up on trying to find sleep. While still in his blue jeans, is gray thermal, still stained from the night's adventures, is dragged over his head and arms shoved through the sleeves. It might have been bothersome if he hadn't experienced such things before. He kicks his way free of the sleeping bag and finds his way to the door by the faint glow at the floor. A faint creak gives note to Devon's presence, followed soon by his appearance in the main room.
Devon's eyes - tiredness mixes with fear and worry and clouds his expression - drags over Graeme and Remi. The sight causes him to stop just where the room opens up, though surprise isn't in evidence on his face.
"Oh, pardon." Remi does heed his words, lowering her voice. Her arms are tight around Graeme's shoulders, overwhelminghly happy to see him. He can almost feel as much coming from her. Sliding into his lap carefully, she holds him in silence for a moment, stifling the excited cheers she wants to let out about being reunited with Graeme with remarkable efficiency. Self control is wonderful.
Well, except when she doesn't display it. Like right now. She's sneaky about it, putting her cheek against Graeme's for a moment, before pulling back briefly to smile happily at him. Any terror that she's suffered hours before is gone. And then, after smiling for a moment, Remi's lips are suddenly pressed against Graeme's in a kiss that is definitely not as platonic as she usually kisses him. She's fast about it, too, gently pressing a hand to the back of his head to keep him from turning.
I fucking missed you, you know. Devon is offered a brief wave. Yeah, she knows you're there.
This is Graeme's 'I am fucking confused' face, which the teenager should recognise. Except it's not the confused in a good way, so much, which should also be obvious to the teenager. I know you did, but no. The chastising this time is mental, as Graeme disengages with remarkable efficiency. There are people he's attracted to. Aric, whose annoying habit of walking around the apartment just out of the shower in a towel makes Graeme's heart melt in this ridiculous way. Elisabeth, something that Graeme still doesn't understand so much, but he's not fighting it or the way that being with her was just so very simple and so very much right.
But his feelings for Remi are entirely and wholly platonic, and this only so much as confirms it for him, so much the opposite of the first time he kissed Liz. There's a moment of pause, and then Graeme very, very firmly disengages, no longer trapped by the confusion or her hand, which is grasped carefully, brought down. And the period of time that Remi's been gone has not been great for Graeme in terms of anything, and the teacher has more issues about personal space at the moment, especially considering that he's on watch. Which he says, putting down his coffee at this point and pushing aside the blanket to simply pick Remi up, setting her down in the spot that was originally indicated for her to sit. He'll even let her have the blanket, he's got another one. "Remi …" Graeme switches to speaking aloud, and shoots the teenager a look of male communication that is along the lines of both wtf and confusion. "Don't make this harder for yourself than it already is, alright?"
This said as Graeme tucks the blanket around her, another blanket grabbed from his bag and the revolver tucked into the waistabnd of his jeans before he perches on a wire spool. Distance is important, but his thoughts are very carefully neutral and blank. He's gotten better at dealing with telepaths in the time she's been gone, too, and is harder to read than he used to be. "You're my friend. Nothing more. I …" he can't. He's not attracted to her, and his heart is taken. By the man that she set him up with, no less, amongst else.
In response to the look, Devon only shakes his head. He may not understand the connection, or attempted connection, between Remi and Graeme, having never found himself in a relationship. While he might crush on someone now and again, the teen finds himself lucky to not have such hangups at this particular time. But the message is clear enough, as he briefly meets Graeme's look then turns away. "Is there coffee," he asks rhetorically, keeping his nose well out of the situation until it's been resolved. He doesn't wait for an answer, but instead moves into the kitchen to find himself a cup and some of the black brew.
A rattle from the kitchen signals he's found cups. And the coffee pot with its never ending supply is still relatively warm. Devon fills his cup and takes a moment to enjoy a long swallow of the bitter liquid before he reappears just where the common area opens once again.
It's Remi who is confused at first, seeing things with this new aspect of her ability that have her lost in another world at the moment, her face going blank as she experiences the vision of Graeme's memories. Of Aric, and things she probably wasn't supposed to see. And of Liz. Of Liz. She promptly allows Graeme to remove her from his lap, her expression unreadable. She's kind of glad to be away from him, after seeing that.
And for once in her life, Remi feels jealousy. Normally, she doesn't get jealous. But she took Graeme in, gave him a steal on rent for a luxury apartment. And he's still staying there, though without the whole rent part. She's loved this fucker with all of her heart, done everything she could to make sure he's been happy in her own odd way…and he chooses to be bisexual with Liz? Liz, who she also has a Thing for, regardless of whether the blonde is attracted to her or not.
So this is jealousy.
She falls quiet for a long moment, turning to stare at the ground. She's got the ballerina mask on, now, an unreadable expression on her face. By the looks of it, she's probably not taking this as well as she appears to be. And she's not talking, with her voice or her mind.
Graeme looks over at Remi. And his own thoughts wander, a little. Because she is, at the bottommost line, his friend, but feelings and such aren't something that the man has the exact choice over that some people seem to think. He recognises the hurt in Remi's blank expression, a silent apology offered though he's not really sure what he's done.
Instead, he takes a sip of his coffee, and looks over to the teenager. "Couldn't sleep?" He's choosing, very purposefully choosing, not to engage in the topic anymore. And probably, he'll talk to Liz about it at some point later, but in the mean time, the teacher isn't going to let even Remi's misjudgement cause tension in the safehouse. That much is clear in his thoughts, that at this point also they all need to live together, get along, not have problems between them. Eventually, he turns back towards Remi, puts his coffee down on the spool he'd been sitting on, moves towards the duffel bag. "You know, before you went and kissed me, I was going to tell you I brought you some stuff from the apartment." The words are quiet, not accusative, at the very least there. That be it platonic or not, he does care about the young woman. "Some clothing," though it's the plainest of such, and mainly her pyjamas and underclothes, "two hairbrushes, little things I thought you'd have missed."
Remi is offered a look, though Devon's expression is void of opinion on the matter. Her suggestion says friend and trust, but friends don't need to involve themselves in every personal matter. He'd likewise extend the same indifference and distance to even his closest companions. As he lifts his cup to take another drink off his own coffee, the teen's attention returns to Graeme. "No," he replies, though the teacher knows the answer before it's uttered; the kid had taken up space for a few nights at the apartment.
After rubbing absently at his eyes, Devon moves to take up a seat on one of the camp stools. Space is given to both Graeme and Remi, both physically and mentally. His thoughts are kept well in check and neutral, and he pays no attention to the summary of things that've been brought from Dorchester. All his focus goes into his coffee.
Blue eyes travel to the items Graeme is pulling out, though Remi persists in her silence. Not a sound comes from the woman, who remains wrapped in the blanket with that neutral expression on her face. She's got a good poker face. Inwardly, she's processing what she saw. Processing the fact that, while she knows that she really has no right to be, she is jealous right now. Jealous of Graeme for getting with Liz. Jealous of Liz for getting with Graeme. Because they're both forbidden fruits to her. And she doesn't like it in the slightest.
A brief glance is cast toward Devon, before she looks back to Graeme. Then, Remi stands, removing the blanket and tossing it in the spot that Graeme abandoned. "I'm going back to bed. Leave it by my door. I'm in the room above the entrance." That's all she can really manage to say right now. She really doesn't want to make a scene about this. At least, not with Devon present.
Another glance is cast toward Devon, this time with a slightly thankful gleam in her eyes, before she moves toward the stairs quietly, looking to be more lost in her thoughts than what really churns beneath the surface. She needs to get out of here for a little while, before she freaks out too much. All of this shit is way too much for her right now…
Most of Remi's stuff is in a canvas bag, and the tops he'd pulled out as an example are put in the canvas bag too, handed to Remi before she goes up the stairs. "I'm on watch right now, so you take them with you," he says. Rather than him have to go up the stairs to do it, and without so much as thanks for the thought and consideration, he's terribly uninclined to do it it for her at the moment. It's not a terribly heavy bag, either, and then when Remi's gone up the stairs, Graeme pauses. His thoughts remain carefully telepath-neutral, and they will for the entire time he's in the safehouse this time around, most likely.
A look is cast to Devon, and Graeme sighs, quiet. "Somehow, I'm glad she picked up on those thoughts and not the things that bother me when it gets quiet." Those things, the reasons that Graeme reads during his watch, keeps his mind busy at perhaps all cost rather than court the return of the nightmares and the hyperactive, imbalanced distraction that so rarely comes when he has his ability. "I think … I think she's picking up more on contact with people, or something."
"You wonder why I got upset about her nosing into my head," Devon says with a shrug, once Remi's left the room. It's not his place and he doesn't feel like delving into the secret lives of the telepath and teacher. "Just keep your eye on her. Liz is too." For various things that he doesn't voice nor think about. He'll bring it up again through more secure channels.
Leaning forward until his elbows are braced against his thighs, Devon lets out a sigh. Time to change the subject, to give the two more space. "Thanks for the sleeping bag. I've got some cash on me, for emergencies." His gaze lifts, seeking out Graeme's. Funny how the tables have turned, it wasn't that long ago the conversation was reversed. "It's yours if you can pick up some supplies for me." He's got his pack, with a spare shirt and laptop and a bottle of water. But not much in the way of living out of.
With a sudden fiery look cast Graeme's direction, Remi takes the bag, lugging it up the stairs with a frown slowly growing across her features. It's all she can do not to start an argument. Instead, she'll just go up to her bedroom, curl on her uncomfortable makeshift bed, and try to sleep off the anger and jealousy that stings at the back of her eyes.
Right now, everying sucks.
There is perhaps actual palpable relief in the atmosphere as Graeme relaxes. He takes a sip of his coffee, sighing and going to curl underneath the blanket, gun put down next to him. As he does so, ability pushes all of the disagreement back, out of his head, so much that it doesn't so much bother him anymore. It'll bother him later, when he's back at the Dorchester apartment after work on Monday, but it doesn't bother him now. Right now, a long minute passes and Graeme seems as calm and collected as ever, leaning back against the wall.
"I'll pick up stuff for you tomorrow after work," Graeme says. "Let me know your sizes, and such, and if there's anything in specific you want like, as well. And I'll be getting another sleeping bag for you, too, since by rights you need a long one rather than just a normal one. Pillows, too, so we still have some spares." The words trail off, and Graeme offers Devon a faint shrug. "I will. I was … worried about this, more or less, Liz knows." The issues of entitlement, he means, but it's but a very brief flitting thought for the teacher as he talks to the teenager.
"Thanks," Devon says quietly. He sets his cup on the floor between his feet, hands raising once free to cradle his head. "I'll talk to Liz, too." His mind flits for a fraction of a second to his last conversation regarding the telepath. "I really, really don't think she's fit for this life. Hell, I barely am and I've lived it before."
Dropping his hands, he lifts his gaze to Graeme again. There's something the teenager seems as though he's trying to process, trying to explain without giving away fears or concerns or even an opinion. Finally he sighs, and covers the moment with a shake of his head. "Women." Like he knows about all that.
There's a faint snort of amusement from the teacher. "Something like that." Graeme tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling. "Hell, I'm not suited for it," he admits, a now familiar determination edging his voice nonetheless. Though he's good at it, and his ability makes him uniquely suited for some things, like being able to fit almost two lives into his schedule, without sacrificing a need for sleep or the like.
"I just want to settle down somewhere with Aric and live somewhere I get to see the sky at night, somewhere peaceful. Preferably with the rest of my friends nearby too." The description certainly doesn't match New York City, in any case. "I just do it … because it's the right thing to do, because I have to or I won't be able to live with myself in the quiet moments."
Having no experience in the whiles of women, Devon can appreciate the snort. "Least you got someone," he offers, sans sarcasm. He means it, in a happier way. "Or, someones." The amendment comes with a faint and fleeting grin. He drops a hand and picks up his coffee, then pushes himself off the stool. "I just want somewhere …that I don't have to run from. A home that doesn't change." A family that doesn't crumble like a pie crust. "Sorry to add to your food bill again, Graeme."
"Anyone makes it so you have to run from here," and the edge of determination and protectiveness to the drawl, the same as the teenager has come to expect from the teacher, does not change, "and they will have to go through me first. Several times over if I have a say in it. It may not be much of a home, but you're welcome here, you know. In case Liz hasn't made that abundantly clear already."
It's not that it's much comfort to offer, but Graeme says it anyways, with a half smile flashed back to Devon. "No being sorry. I won't let you skip meals to save me money, you know." The words are predominantly teasing, offered in fun and jest given the past interactions between the two and the fact that Graeme won't let people skip meals very much in general.
"I know I am," Devon says in regards to his welcome in the house. "She's made it clear, even if I feel like the others are looking at me crosswise." His head shakes dismissively. That's their problem. If they want to know about the teenager, they have but to come and ask him. "I'll pull my weight around here, too." Though that goes without saying. If he were to sit idle too long, he'd go crazy.
The teenager manages another fleeting grin, knowing full well Graeme's insistence of eating. "No skipping meals to save you money," he agrees. But says nothing of skipping meals from the stress and worry he's been sitting with. "You need relief from watch, come get me. Going to try and sleep a bit more." Which they both know probably won't happen. Another thing that goes without saying. Devon lifts his cup of coffee and turns back to find Graeme's room, leaving the teacher to his book and watch.