Participants:
| Scene Title | Mister Crankypants |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Peyton, in a very good mood, describes her experience fighting the Nightmare Man (with the help of Cat) to Aaron, who seems to react badly to the good vibrations. |
| Date | January 30, 2010 |
Aaron, Peyton, and sometimes Gillian's Apartment — Upper West Side
'Is this what being a security guard is like?' Aaron wonders to himself as he sits back from not-exactly-staring at the baby monitor viewing Peyton's sleeping form. 'Because if it is, I never want to be one. Booooring.' He shakes his head and heads into the kitchen for a minute or two to grab himself a glass of orange juice. Nights didn't used to be this boring. At least, he doesn't think they did. Maybe they were. Who knows?
Aaron carries his glass of orange juice back into the living room, sipping it along the way before plopping himself back down on the couch and continuing his surveillance. At least it's not as maddening as psychowatch, which he really hopes he's seen the last of. He doesn't really need a neurotic roommate. He has plenty enough neuroses for the entire apartment.
Usually Peyton doesn't wake up so quickly — he probably gets a fright when her form is gone from the bed, but after a moment he'll hear the toilet flushing and then the water running as she brushes her teeth. If it runs too long or she doesn't emerge, he might worry, but so far the sounds are normal morning sorts of sounds for Peyton. She emerges a moment later, still in her pajamas — today, a pair of blue and lavender flannel bottoms and a lavender tank top on top, her feet in lavender slippers to match. Yes, she has matching slippers.
"Good morning," the clairvoyant says in a bright and cheerful voice that may make him wonder if she's sleep walking and that the Nightmare Man has taken a new path in his dream influence. "You wanna sleep? I can take over."
There is a moment of terror when he realizes that the bed is empty, and he bolts up — very nearly spilling his orange juice — only to hear the toilet flush. Aaron breaths a heavy sigh of relief and slowly settles back down onto the couch. When Peyton appears with her chipper greeting, his face contorts into utter confusion. "Who are you and what have you done to Peyton?" Whether or not he's serious with the question…. "Seriously, whatever you're taking, I want some."
The brunette smirks, heading into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of orange juice, then adding a splash of 7-Up, before coming back into the living room. "I had another dream, but I was able to stop it. I understand what Cat was talking about now," she says, lifting her glass to take a sip. Her cheeks are a touch flushed from the excitement and fear of the dream, but she seems calm and content. She moves to the couch, tucking her legs under the blankets that are ever piled there.
"Well that makes one of us," Aaron says, picking his glass of orange juice back up off of the coffee table and downing it before returning the glass to the kitchen. Then it hits him, and he stops in the kitchen archway. She had another dream and was able to stop it. Dream? Nightmare. "Wait a minute. You had another nightmare?"
"It was … it started bad," Peyton says, frowning a little at the memory. "I was on trial for … selfishness." She laughs a little — in the light of the room, with daylight peeking through the pale curtains, it seems ridiculousness. But it plays upon her past dream and her fears that she is a horrible person. "Danko was the attorney arguing against me, and I think … I think Eileen was the judge. But then Cat showed up and told me to break my handcuffs, and I did." She takes a sip and lets him digest this, though it's clear there's more.
There comes a snort when Aaron hears what the dream was, though ridiculous is not quite how Aaron would describe it. It's sounds plain old batty. "Sure it was one of the nightmares and not just some regular fucked up dream?" He finally makes his way back over to the couch and drops himself down onto it. The daylight only makes his crabbier.
"Well, I guess it could be but it felt like the other… in a different sort of way." Yes, that makes no sense. "And remember what I told you about Cat telling me about the patronus thingies, all that Jungian and Harry Potter shit? She showed up and she had a … like a jaguar with her, and she said it was her avatar. And that the way to fight the Nightmare Man was to pull out an… avatar… like a stronger part of myself or something and that it would help me. And I did." She doesn't say what her avatar was; it seems too personal. "And then everything slid away and I woke up."
She doesn't say and Aaron doesn't ask. Though it's not that he's not curious, but he's pondering what possible thing he could conjure up in such a scenario. In the end, he comes up with zip, zilch, and nada. Maybe sans nada. Not even zip or zilch, really. "Huh," is really all he can come up with to say. Well, one comment comes to mind. "Her name is Cat and her avatar is a jaguar? That's just creepy."
She kicks him with one foot, though it doesn't hurt as it's still clad in slipper. "She has a wacky sense of humor. Anyway, it doesn't have to be that — it could be someone you see as protecting you or just a … better version of yourself, a stronger you," Peyton explains. "I think the point is just that you are … sort of … manifesting strength, showing that you can't be pushed around in your dreams, you know? Like mine was someone I know, but Cat's is obviously the way she sees her stronger self. All… ferocious and growly I guess. And she made fun of the people, sort of made it all seem just… stupid."
Aaron's eyes turn to Peyton's slippered feet for a moment after the plush kick, and then he listens semi-intently to her further explanation. "She have whiskers, too?" It does sound rather silly. Their own system seemed to beat the Nightmare Man alone, unless he simply had other people to torment and never once came around. Then again, now Gillian and Peyton have had dreams, rather close together, and have fought them off. Is he next?
"Bad. No, Cat's pretty," Peyton says, kicking him again for making the snarky comment. "It's good though. If it was really that kind of nightmare, and he didn't … make me try to do something bad," she says, still uncomfortable saying what it is she almost did. She sips her juice again and then stretches to set it down. She worries her lower lip between her teeth a moment, before sighing. "Am I selfish, Aaron?"
"Nope. That's all me," Aaron says, clambering to his feet and trudging off towards the bedrooms. Apparently he feels it's his time to sleep, or something. His tone suggests that the conversation's over, though. Clearly he needs the sleep, so he can be less of a Mr. Crankypants.
Peyton scowls at this. "What? No." She throws the blankets off her legs and pads after him. "You're not selfish. What's the matter? I'm asking you for a reason — if I am… you can tell me. I'm trying not to be, I really really am." Her voice trembles a touch, as if the abrupt end to the conversation is him perhaps not wanting to tell her the truth; maybe he's being sarcastic about him being selfish. "They said I was selfish, that they blind folded me at that trial with Danko because they couldn't trust me to see them, that I wasn't worthy to see them. That I was selfish for looking in on Danko and trying to keep tabs on him. I'm not doing it for just me, you know that right? I'm scared of him, but not just for me." Her cheery mood has darkened, as she tries to convince Aaron of what she's uncertain of herself.
Aaron turns on Peyton, coming up really close. "Ever think you might be trying too fucking hard? Being not selfish doesn't mean destroying yourself trying to fix the world— that's not your responsibility. Just because you wasted away two decades of your life being petty doesn't mean you have to make up for it all in one year." On that note, he turns again and enters his room, closing the door swiftly behind him. It's not precisely a slam, but it's not particularly quiet, either.
Well, then.
Peyton stands in the hallway, eyes wide, one hand reaching out for the archway's frame to steady herself. That was unexpected. She may not have gotten an A in her English courses in high school, but the irony is not lost on the clairvoyant; she tried to be a better person by being less selfish and instead alienated someone in the process. She storms after him, retorts on her lips but instead stares at the door for a moment and then gives a kick with her slippered foot.
The just recently healed one.
"OW, FUCK AND DAMN IT!" she cries out, then hops back to the living room, hoping she didn't wake Gillian, a little belatedly.