as_damaged | ☤ forty-five

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☤ forty-five

If--

It doesn't prove anything either way.

I always try to talk myself out of saying anything when this happens, but the truth is I think it's kind of nice. Horrifying, more often than not, but-- there's always a chance of seeing someone familiar.

[ooc; as always~ Cam is season 3, I would prefer to minimize explicit spoilers on recent canon but she can forget whatever she needs to ;) Please no duplicates of housecast unless approved by the concerned muns. etc etc. backdating-friendly forever.]

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I've been better, but I've been worse. [She looks at him with a little quirk of her lip, not quite the smile the flowers won but still something genuine, which she figures must be worth more than a front. She doesn't want him to worry, though she likes that he does. If he'd showed up drunk or despairing again, she wouldn't admit that; in a way that's always been her problem, prioritizing future suffering over present anything. But he needed it, and Cameron is good at being needed, if she's good at anything.]

It was a rough spring in the City, [she elaborates calmly, a bit of time granting some distance from the events; the dead thing at her window, the dead man on the street, the dangers always at the periphery of life here. She heads into the kitchen as she speaks, grabbing the first thing that comes to hand-- a plain mug, as chance has it-- to put the flowers in. She sets it down and doesn't come back at once, an open invitation for him to join her a little further indoors.] Nothing unmanageable, mainly.

[She pauses. Some things are easier to say through a wall.]

You're looking... good.

...I suppose not always for the worse.

Sometimes it's difficult to tell.

That would be another reason to make the most of the time you have and find out.

Hey, don't worry about it. It was kind of neat... I've never gotten to fight things before. I mean, there was the spider-guilt after, but no one got hurt.

Yep, just standard medical wraps. Are you at the hospital?

[He could still say he needs her, but it wouldn't be fair, now or in what is his present, her future. He's learning how to be without, and to give credit where it's due, surviving alone has become an undeniable talent. Takes a while finding his feet with it again, in a condo big enough for two, but he's getting there. He will. Eventually her absence might be a dull enough pain that her presence could be entertained again. As friends. They've managed that before.]

I remember a few crazy seasons. [He comments, raising his voice enough that she can hear him as he takes his time over joining her in the kitchen. He stops to look around on the way, letting more of that memory come back.] I'm sure you can live without me reminiscing.

[In her kitchen he finds a stretch of counter that could be worn away by the habit he has of leaning there. Hesitates, choosing his words carefully.]

I'm a lot better. Think we both are.

That can be a dangerous thing. Do you know the story of Cassandra?

No. Tell me Cassandra's tale.

I'm glad.

[That's quiet and a little hoarse, tinged with the emotion she's been holding in for the better part of this weekend. She hasn't cried; it feels a little foolish, but... Cameron couldn't say she isn't troubled.]

Maybe I've just been here long enough to build some resilience about it. Though... I don't want to talk about it either, [she adds, glance flicking aside towards the new window she can't actually see. It's intentional, answering the latter comment first; encapsulating it, because she can't handle too much of this at once.

That resolve falters a little.]

I wasn't sure you'd come.

The City certainly doesn't lack for strange opportunities.

I'm not today-- I... took the rest of the weekend off, after I realized what was going on. But you can bring them by tomorrow if you'd like?

She was given a gift of prophecy; but cursed, so that none would believe her proclamations. She was aware of the future, but powerless to change it; or even to effectively warn those who might be in danger, to prepare them for the inevitable.

What do you take from such a story?

I wasn't sure you'd want to see me.

[That with a rush of nervous breath, and it's clear that he has debated back and forth over the merits of this idea. He's tried staying away from her before, and failed, but in sobriety there was nothing pushing his choice but a personal need to right things where they'd been wrong - as much as is possible or fair.]

I'll always come, when I can. If you do want that. [He makes a slow approach, edging round her to find a safe distance to reach out, his hand on her shoulder.] I haven't been fair. It was important I show up, if only to let you know I'm not... what was it? Dying of a massive coronary?

That depending on what the future holds, knowing might be harder than not knowing. But you wouldn't be able to guess that until it was too late to turn away.

[Cameron breathes a laugh, the corners of her eyes wrinkling slightly as she lifts a hand to wrap her fingers around her wrist.]

That's not fair, [she chides, because he understands exactly what she meant by that, even if he didn't at the time. Really if Chase develops a paranoia about a massive coronary, it would literally be his own fault.]

I like... knowing you're okay,

[she adds after a second, fingers shifting a little. The problem comes when he isn't, but overall it's an assent because she knows too much now to be left wondering. It's too much to hope that they're okay, maybe; but if they both are, at least, it's a start.]

I can believe there is truth to that.

Would you want to know your own future?

Your metaphors are terrible. [Chase counters, with too much fondness for it to be a rebuke. He leans closer, as if wanting to catch that breath of a laugh and hold onto it, let it justify all the reasons he's putting himself through something that could be the definition of the term bittersweet. And no, he never developed that particular paranoia, but neither did the suspicion ever completely go away.]

I'm managing. [He throws back to her earlier description of this particular spring. Autumn was the rough season for him and spring's bringing some new hope with it, if not exactly for a fresh start.] One advantage of doing what we do; no one gets indulged enough to fall apart for long.

[And perhaps that's saying too much. He sighs, tipping his head down without the once requisite fall of hair into his eyes.]

I'm sorry I scared you.

I'll do that, thank you! ...It's Allison, right?

No thank you, I don't need it.

It suited the purpose at the time. [Really, it's not like she could have told him about... himself. Her perspective never fails to perplex her; at this point he may as well be two people, as opposed to one person she knows twice over. The history of one informs the other, but only barely; and while she finds it hard to be this easy with Chase whose in the City, she doesn't want the same things from this man that she wants from his younger counterpart.

His comments raise any number of questions; but she finds, almost to her own surprise, that she can live with that.]

I hope I helped, a little.

That's right.

I wasn't offering. I'm about the furthest you can get from a prophet.

Then I am happy to know you are not so cursed.

Right. Thank you, Allison, and I'll see you tomorrow.

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☤ forty-five

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