six ☼ spam & audio

[deshabille]

spam } anya

[Mal goes to Anya first. Of course she goes to Anya first. Pietro, she thinks, would want her to know first - would want her to hold the news for a while before anyone else did.]

[She tracks her down in the library and stands with her legs braced apart, fingers tapping on her hips. There is an edge about her; she is doing her utmost to hover in frustration, rather than head straight into bloody rage.]

Anya.

private } erik

Pietro's gone. Thought you might like to know.

private } barbara

We need to speak in person.

public } voice

Pietro Maximoff has left the Barge. For good, it seems like.

Comments

[ Private ]

[surfaceshine]

You, me, and a dartboard.

[ Private ]

[deshabille]

You do have a way with words.

When?

[ Private ]

[surfaceshine]

You don't need me to have a way with words. You need me to shut up and throw darts.

Nowish is good for me.

[ Private ]

[deshabille]

I've been ordered to have a drink nowish.

private

[pvtparts]

Pub, five minutes.

[She'll have a drink waiting for you, Mal.]

spam

[deshabille]

[And she is there in ten. It's close enough. She looks fine. Really. She's fine.]

[But she will take that drink, raising her eyebrows.]

Very kind.

spam

[pvtparts]

[Mal shares what's necessary and important, but it doesn't come easy to her. Polly holds no expectations she'll talk about any of it now or possibly ever. But if she wants to, she's there to listen. If not, she's there to talk about something else. Or just drink in silence.]

[Either way, she's not letting Mal sit on this by herself and Polly is patient.]

Be courteous and don't tell anyone. I've a reputation to maintain already.

[Private]

[itstopped]

I'm sorry to hear that.

Do me a favor and try not to punch Dean in the jaw again, though.

[Private]

[deshabille]

Darts this time.

Are you?

[Private]

[itstopped]

Why wouldn't I be?

Audio

[bodilesswarrior]

You're in luck, I just escaped. [There's only so long she can stand being in anything like a hospital. She's not better exactly, not really, but good enough that it's safe to be on her own.] 506.

Spam

[deshabille]

[She knocks on the door about five minutes later, not bothering to respond in the interim. She knows Barbara probably still feels terrible, that she shouldn't bother her, but she also doesn't care. Besides, she thinks it's probable that Barbara would also rather be busy than idle.]

Spam

[bodilesswarrior]

[Truer words.

The door opens remotely; Barbara is at her computers, entering new data into her files. She closes them with a click, turning to Mal with a faint smile.]

Hey.

[wedonot]

I'm sorry to hear that.

[deshabille]

I'm sure.

[wedonot]

Is there anything I can do?

[tentacruelest]

And you didn't follow him. Such is my luck.

[deshabille]

Ha. And leave you unpestered? I'd pine.

[tentacruelest]

Follow him out, Corporal. P'haps there will be someplace of use for you, seeing as you've done nothing worthy aboard this ship.

[fridgetothefire]

[She glances up. She guesses, but doesn't guess, torn between wanting to dismiss it and wanting not to acknowledge it, or at least wanting not to be so pessimistic that she acknowledges it in advance. So she just - waits, somberly, for Mal to say it.]

Yes?

[deshabille]

[That look almost hurts. Almost. (It hurts a lot.) Her brows draw together, delicate and unreadable.]

Your brother is gone.

[She doesn't say I'm sorry. She's patronizing, but not that patronizing. Her sorrow doesn't mean a thing.]

[fridgetothefire]

[Lua, Cass, Pietro. She will miss him least, but it still feels a bit like getting knocked down again every time she tries to stand up. He was - he could have been like Erik, she thinks, could have been everything her real brother was not, was beginning to approach it when he first slipped into the coma. But he did, and she already has a place in her to slot the official declaration of his absence.

Still, it stings. Someone faster, and more annoying, she'd suggested to Dean with a grin. Someone she was fairly certain would have held Dent down while she tortured him, if she had asked him right. Someone who was sorry, maybe not for all the things the Admiral wanted, but for the things that struck Anya worst. Wherever he is, she hopes he's found a way to do better by Luna, for both their sakes.]

Thank you for letting me know.

[It's a quiet acceptance, not quite bleak, not quite resigned. Somewhere sighing between the two.]

[Private]

[wecanavenge]

[It's perfectly impossible to tell that he just muttered a few curses into his empty room.]

Thank you.

[Private]

[deshabille]

Don't.

[Thank her; do not thank her for this, as much as she knows that that's what people say for lack of anything better to say at times like these.]

[Private]

[wecanavenge]

[He could tell her it isn't her fault, or that she did well with him, but he has to acknowledge that she probably knew him better than he did. And that is disappointing.

Pietro looked so much like his father.

Erik makes a noncommittal noise - an acknowledgement, respect for what she wants - and cuts the feed.]