abheirrant | ❧ i n b o x

[Apropos of nothing, Poison leaves Carlisle a message in the middle of the night. She doesn't expect an answer right away... but does he even sleep, anymore?]

Hi, Carlisle. [She pauses, coughs, then goes on.] Just... making sure you're doing alright. Let me know?

[She gets an answer almost immediately; apparently, no, he does not sleep anymore.]

Poison. I have been meaning to speak with you again.

Oh--

[She's taken a little by surprise, but recovers quickly.]

... Well, here I am.

Yes. Here you are.

[And some silence. He's been meaning to contact her, but clearly hasn't thought of exactly what he wanted to say when he did.]

I um. I met your beau.

[Yep. Good start, and not at all what he actually wanted to tell her.]

[Oh, spirits, just give her a moment to blush.]

Good. Peter's wonderful. I'm glad you've met him.

He is a good lad. He helped me with my communicator when I first arrived, and we spoke at length at the party.

[Which he did attend, thank you very much.]

So... you've been doing well? I've been--

[Concerned. Worried?]

I mean, I've thought about you.

[She needn't say how concerned she's been -- he can hear it in her tone.]

I am better than I was in some regards, and worse in others. This has not been an easy transition for me, though I suppose that should be expected.

Mm... it's not easy. This isn't my first time and it still isn't easy.

[A tentative little smile creeps into her voice.]

It's good you've been making friends.

Less 'making friends' and more 'reconnecting with ones of whom I was unaware,' but I suppose there isn't much difference, in the end.

[He has been making some new acquaintances, but he's slow to call people friends. Poison is probably aware of this, he realizes belatedly.]

No, not really.

[She uses the word 'friends' loosely, of course. Poison doesn't make friends easily, and she knows Carlisle doesn't either.]

Did you want to talk to me about something?

I... suppose not.

[Said like someone who really does want to talk, but is uncomfortable with doing so.]

I merely wanted to make sure you were doing well. As well as can be expected here.

... Are you sure?

[She could accept it, she really could, but just sending a message as a matter of courtesy doesn't feel as if it's what's going on here.]

That's all you wanted?

[Genji was born into luxury. As the second son of the head of a crime organization he had everything he could ever want, and not just money to spend but people who cooked for him, cleaned, did all the day to day tasks.

After his .. injury, he'd been incapacitated and hadn't needed to take care of himself for a while, or been able to even if that had been a priority. And once he was joined up with Overwatch he still had most of his needs taken care of. He dumped his laundry in a bin and it magically showed up back in his room clean and folded. The only reason he knew how to cook eggs was because he felt inept when the microwave broke and realized just how little he knew about being the human he claimed to still be.

It took nearly half a carton before he got it right and made something edible.

But laundry still eluded him. In fact now that he thought about it he's not sure he's ever even seen a laundry machine. He'd never been in the laundry room either at Hanamura or the Overwatch base. And the Shambali monks didn't need to wash their clothes as they didn't sweat and get them dirty. What did washers look like? They were metal cubes right? There certainly wasn't one in his room (though there was a small countertop dishwasher that he'd mercifully figured out how to use without flooding the place).

And now Genji had a problem. He did actually wear clothes under his armor, a thin body suit and boxerbriefs that kept his skin from chafing against the metal. And he really wanted them clean.

He frowned at his phone while he debated his options. Just how inept did he want to come off? Robot-ninja doesn't know how to take care of himself. Entitled little brat just like he'd been as a child.

Eventually he settled on Carlisle because if nothing else at least the fact that he wears clothes might reassure the man that he's human.]

May I trouble you for a rather mundane question?

[After the hellish time Carlisle has had lately -- proving himself to be largely a failure of a healer in his current state, raising undeads left and right, being coerced into using his necrotic abilities, living(?) with the constant fear he'll lose hold over himself and become the Blight Heir again -- he isn't sure he even wants to look at the phone when it beeps at him. He finds himself pleasantly surprised by the name he finds there, and the request.]

Please. I welcome the mundane at this time.

[It might be hard to tell if he's being genuine through text, but he's absolutely serious. His existence is too tumultuous as it is.]

Do you know anything about the laundry facilities? Where they are for starters.

[He'll broach the more complicated: what is fabric softener and do his clothes need to be softened? after the basics.]

They are located in a room off the side of the communal room at the end of the barracks hallways. They are curious devices, but I had a friends show me how to use them so I would not have to wash my entire outfit by hand.

[Though he does have to do that now, at least to scrub the ink out of his mask and gloves. He got it out of his veil easily enough, but his hands are so stiff since he healed Kieran, nearly uncooperative even now as he tries to type back to Genji. He's been struggling to do the washing himself; he'd call someone, but his best option would have been Pratt, and after what happened with Kieran...

Well. He wouldn't be surprised if the Deputy never wants to speak to him again. Genji helped him once. Maybe he would again. It would require him removing his mask, though, and revealing what he is. He's not sure he can stomach that, but he is undeniably desperate to wash the ink out of his clothing. It reminds him all too much of the monster he is beneath his many layers.]

I could show you, if you like.

[There's an obvious pause, hesitation. The silence stretches on for longer than he'd like.]

Do you remember telling me of when you discovered you were the Hierophant? How those around you grew ill when you threw a tantrum, nearly dying because of powers you didn't yet understand?

[Of course she does, he tells himself. What a foolish question, though one giving him some space from the next.]

What... what would you have done, had you killed them?

[It's obvious, and she waits.

There's a small 'hmm' when he asks if she remembers. Not a conversation she'll soon forget, after all the unintentional missteps he made during it.]

I don't know. The aim of it was that I'd die first. [She pauses, sinking into thought for a moment.] I suppose... I might have ended up with a completely blank world. One I could have written them back into, if I'd wanted to.

I see.

[A quiet little sigh.]

And what if you hadn't been able to? What if they were just gone, and it was your fault? How would you accept that?

[Oh good, it's reassuring that someone else didn't know how to work the machines. Maybe he can play this off as these particular machines are different than what he knows, and not that he's never used any of them. ]

That would be appreciated. I would rather not have my entire room covered in drying laundry.

Especially sheets.

[Because that's a thing right? It's fabric so he should wash it. He's pretty sure that's how it works. What... about the pillows. Do pillows get washed? Oh this is more complicated than he thought.]

Gather your garments and bring them to Quad 004. I will await you.

[Hey, look at him, inviting a near stranger to his room. He's desperate for some help himself, though.]

[Genji gathers up his clothes and the sweatshirt that the robots had forced him into his first day there. Upon studying the bed he decides that he probably only needs to wash the bottom sheet since that's the one he lays on. He's put all his clothes into the middle of it and wrapped it up into a neat, easy to carry bundle.

It does feel a little weird because he's wearing a t-shirt and boxers under his armor right now since that's all he could find. The fabric had bunched up in a few places making it uncomfortable, but it was better than being naked under his armor. And at least that wasn't visible through the metal plates.

He approaches Carlisle's room, knocking politely with his sheet full of clothes over his shoulder.]

[Carlisle cracks the door open, making sure it's Genji before opening it the rest of the way. He looks as though he's been put through the wringer: his hair is less kempt than it was at the party, despite how out of his element he was there; his gloves have black stains around the fingers, ones faded from having been washed before. His mask has similar stains, lining the base of his jaw and neck with just a few under his eyes where his cheeks met the quilted fabric.

He moves stiffly as he steps outside, though Genji may catch a glimpse of his room as he slowly closes the door, his fingers refusing to fully bend. His room is in a bit of disarray, with mugs and cups and papers littering the beds and desks. Beneath one of them, there are also several jars filled with the sap from the trees in the park, all stacked neatly for storage. There's also a bucket and a few bars of soap pilfered from the showers -- he's been doing some washing in his room, despite the machines they'll be visiting momentarily.

He beckons for Genji to follow him toward the common room for that set of Quads.]

This way.

[ It's a couple of days after the... incident with Kieran, and Ben's finally getting around to contacting the healer who had come by. He got Carlisle's contact info from Pratt and sends a quick text. He doesn't just jump right to asking what the fuck had happened, though. He has some manners at least. ]

Hello, this is Ben.
We met the other day.

[ He could do a whole long explanation but honestly he hasn't got the energy for it so he just bites the bullet and clarifies: ]

The one with the tentacles.
I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing?

❧ i n b o x

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