Participants:
| Scene Title | No Question of Loyalty |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Magnes receives a visit from an awkwardly grateful bandmate. |
| Date | June 28, 2010 |
Magnes' apartment.
Early in the evening, Magnes is laying back in the bed, eating orange slices and watching Kick-Ass again. He's only wearing a pair of boxers with a blanket covering his lower half, and when Elaine lets Sable in, the movie is on a part she might like: Hit Girl beating/shooting the crap out of people with Bad Reputation playing in the background.
Sable hasn't actually ever made a visit to someone in as tough shape as Magnes ostensibly was in. Days of his life given up, anemic which is a word that certainly sounds pretty bad, though Sable doesn't have the first clue what it actually means (which is never a good sign, medically) - she's not sure how she's supposed to comport herself, but she settles on walking slowly and softly, like you might if someone were sleeping. Though he's definitely not sleeping. She sidles in on ginger feet, up to the bedside, eyes tracking over to the television. She squints.
"Joan Jett?" she says, though it's really not a question. It's definitely Joan Jett, that's not up for debate. Her head tilts as Hit Girl does an arial reload, and her eyes swivel to Magnes only with some effort. "Y' don't look half fuckin' bad, boy," she says. She sounds maybe a little tired, and maybe little worried, but definitely a little relieved, "Though not f'r lack 'f fuckin' tryin'."
Magnes smiles, patting the bed next to him, then offers the plate of orange slices. "I couldn't let you down. That's all I could think about when I was in the hospital, I had to get to that concert because I promised I wouldn't let my crazy life ruin your dream." he explains, finally giving Sable herself his reasoning.
Sable looks at the orange slices like maybe she's not sure what they are, or what Magnes is trying to do by holding them out to her. Really it's because her brain is busy processing what Magnes has just said. She shakes her head, "Thanks but no thanks, hon," she says, and this may be the first time she's used that particular fond diminutive for him - he's usually 'boy' - "Honest, I'm not sure exactly how t' express the, like, depths of my gratitude, bein' like, approximately fuckin' bottomless. How's about this? Just, like, know that my pokin' my nose three times is, like, secret code f'r eternal thanks. Here," she lifts her finger up and prods the tip of her nose thrice, then grins, "How's that?"
Magnes snickers, trying his best to sit up, then drops back down with a sigh. He's still exhausted. "You don't have to worry about thanking me or making things up to me. You're my bandmate and one of my best friends, it's my job to be there for you however I can. I needed you to know that I meant everything I said about your dreams being as important to me as any superhero stuff I do."
Sable's hand makes its swift way to the back of her neck, where it scratches in a sure sign of personal discomfort. She is not so much with the easy displays of platonic affection. Mostly she rolls with good natured personal abuse and threats - the bad news crowd she grew up with weren't exactly touchy-feely sorts. Her smile is lopsided and clearly there despite her discomfort, and despite herself. "I feel a tiny bit a tyrant f'r drivin' y' so far," she says, "So all I c'n say is that I'd surely do the same f'r you in, like, a similar situation." Her hand falls, "I… figure there ain't particularly much I've done in life that could be called a, like, wise fuckin' decision. Joinin' up with you's a shinin' goddamn exception."
"You were there for me even at my worse, if it wasn't for you I wouldn't have taken the next step with Elaine, I'd be afraid of losing opportunities with the girls I'm hung up on. Even at my worst, you're always there for me, always giving me advice." Magnes reaches over to take Sable's hand, not seeming to really wanna lift his arm all that high at the moment. "I'd be lost without you, so making you happy is the least I could do."
Sable takes the hand, all the while having to sort of repurpose and reconfigure her interaction protocols. Mostly she looks sort of confused, but she's still smiling. "…it'd make it a fuck 'f a lot easier on me if I'm, like, just permitted t' say 'ditto'," she says, "Well, like, except turnin' it around like… I ain't gonna thank y' fer helpin' me take th' next step with Elaine." And here's a chance to make things feel slightly more normal. She grins. "I won't need no help in that regard, time comes." Humor - sentiment's cure.
"You know, I really don't care if Elaine experiments, as long as it's someone like you or Quinn. No guys." Magnes, having never officially uttered those words, makes Sable the first to know. "Considering my mornings and nights not being able to move in bed lately, I could probably use the break."
"Oh Jesus, now y' tell me!" Sable says, rocking back on her heels as if the news had physical force, "Fuckin' after I resolve t' mend my ways. Some goddamn sense of timin' y' have." She gives a small snicker, "Too fuckin' badly beat t' receive what some've called 'sexual healin'', eh? You really were at the brink 'f death."
"Well, it's not that I'm too beat, I'm just exhausted as hell after. I don't think American men were built for a Scottish girl being in charge." Magnes laughs, moving his hand to place the back of it across his forehead. "You know, you have a lot of resolve and personal honor."
This is a compliment, and a high one, but it makes Sable's eyes skitter off to one side, her hands finding her pockets. "That so?"
"I've never known you to do anything you resolved not to, you never seem to stray to any sort of temptation that would break your personal values." Magnes lifts an orange slice to his mouth, then slides it in. "You're almost like a knight."
Sable gives a snort at this, that same uncomfortable, lopsided smile rising to her lips, though tinged with new ruefulness, "Mebbe in that I, like, charge straight ahead like a moron on account 'f this 'r that chick, in hopes 'f winnin' her fuckin' handkerchief 'r whatever," she says, then pauses, "You just never seen me get properly tempted. Willful 'n' pigheaded I am f'r sure. Honorable? Jesus. I know too well I don't quite measure up 's far 's that's concerned."
"I think you'd be surprised. You're the Wolverine of the group, honorable and wild at the same time." Magnes suddenly has a very mischivious smile, staring at her with a rare possibly scary gaze. "I know what you can do to thank me… bake me cookies, any kind. You go on this journey of cooking baking and you can consider us even."
Sable is definitely not used to that particular brand of sparkle in Magnes' eyes. Reckless mischief is something she tries to handle, for all the good it does her. Of course, his hijinks, from the sound of it, look to be less reckless and more delicious. Though Sable + oven might produce a danger all its own. "Like, without adult fuckin' supervision?" she says, "Can I enlist, like, an ally? I dunno if this particular fuckin' knight is brave enough f'r t' do that quest solo."
"Of course you can, but when you learn how, you have to do most of the work. They can supervise." Magnes reaches up and taps her nose three times. "You can do anything you set your mind to. You're a rock star, aren't you?"
Her nose wrinkles instantly, but she doesn't try and dodge the taps. Sable lifts her hands from her pockets and folds her arms before her. "If I was t', like, give you a gentle embrace 'r somethin'," she says, "Speakin' purely in the, like, hypo-whatever-cal. But if I was t' do such a thing, would it cause some harm t' yer person, such that you'd be unable t' play in th' band any longer? Because as irritatin' as yer sorry ass may be, I don't wanna waste time lookin' f'r a new bassist."
Magnes shakes his head, carefully motining a hand. "Come on. I can't sit up, so, get down here and hug." he assures in the most cheesy of ways. It's a natural sitcom.
Sable sidles as close as she can and leans down for a rather stiff and awkward hug. It's very much a 'hug between dudes' kind of hug. Or at least between the kind of dudes Sable's more used to, the kind who do not hug other dudes.
Magnes musters up as much strength and gravity as he can to lift his arms and wrap them around her, embracing her a bit less awkwardly, like he'd actually hug a girl. "Don't ever worry about how loyal I am to you, the band, or any of my friends."
Sable gets a little less reserved once the hug is in progress, though she doesn't squeeze Magnes too hard, afraid she might break him. He might not be under warrantee. She eases up from the hug, giving a snort. "Jesus," she says, "May I fall dead this fuckin' instant if ever I had a doubt 'f yer fuckin' loyalty, boy. So you c'n cut it out with the crazy fuckin' grand gestures, arright? It's enough y' put up with m' without y' literally fuckin' killin' yerself over my goddamn so-called fuckin' values. Dunno what it is I do, makes folks think they need t' hew t' my own twisted decisions."
"They probably sense that you're an eccentric genius. Like Einstein, Tesla, or Ms. Frizzle." Magnes lays back again, and returns to eating his orange peels, yawning slightly. "I think I need to sleep. You mind tucking my blanket so I don't go floating away?"
Goddamn it, can't Magnes let her remain in a spot of self-loathing for just a little? Being a tortured artist is hard when someone's always cheering you up. Sable rolls her eyes. "Fine. I guess yer due f'r a little nursemaidin'. Now, I ain't too practiced at this, so tell me if I'm doin' it wrong." She takes the edge of the blanket, and tugs it up to Magnes' neck, tugging down as firmly as she can considering her caution.
"You're doing fine. It's easier when I'm in bed with someone, depending on how I'm laying, I get weighed down." Magnes barely says another word before his head just tilts to the side, and he's suddenly breathing much slower, eyes closed.
Sable straightens into a full stand, viewing Magnes with a steady yellow gaze, her smile small, but incredibly fond. She shakes her head. "Boy, oh boy…"