heyfreemagic | (no subject)

[When shadows are living forces and your city is under attack, it's no surprise that some people are driven to drink. Those newly brought into the city have been dragged into an unfamiliar place away from their homes, pushed into a fight they know nothing about, and saddled with abilities they likely never asked for. It's a lot to take in.

The go-to method for Greg is to avoid making waves and just try to get along with other, normal people, while someone else can handle the issue. Unfortunately, none of the normal people seem to be willing to get along. For all his efforts, he can barely get one-word responses out of the best of them, and general disdainful looks from all. Not to say it's an unfamiliar circumstance, but with everything else it's all too much to deal with right now.

Greg hasn't drunk a whole lot since the birth of his kid, but his kid's not here, which is a conflicting matter all its own. He's nursing a beer alone at a table, tuning his guitar softly. The rest of the barflies don't seem happy to have him there, since, well, they're presumably here to drink and forget about all these foreigners. Still, they accepted the few crumpled bills from his wallet without too much complaint.

They may have to get used to sharing the space, should anyone else feel like coming for some pressure release.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Well, at least he's breathing. That's better than the alternative.]

[At the moment, Wash doesn't have anything more than those words. He can't say it's going to be okay - that's bullshit, and they both know it. He's not exactly good at this. Well, no, he's okay with people he knows, but those are in pretty short supply right now.]

[Right now, all he has is his presence, and in a world where nearly everyone hates them on sight, maybe that's enough. After a few moments, he puts a hand gingerly on Greg's shoulder. It's not much, but hopefully, it'll help.]

[As a social person, someone who did his best to get along with people and thrives on his connections, with everyone he knows suddenly cut away, he's starved. The hand, though uncertain and awkward, is welcome, loads better than the stern grip from before. He keeps breathing, and for a time, that's all there is.

Everything is going to be fine, he reminds himself. He's gone over it more times than he can count, enough for it to be more routine than actual belief. In the end, things always end up coming out for the better. He doesn't have any control over it. He has to trust.]

I... I'm okay. [He's not, but he's as close as he can get right now. Everything is going to be fine. He presses his palms into his eyes, wiping out the tears.] S-sorry, I just had to... get it out of my system.

[Yeah, he's not okay. That's pretty damn obvious. Wash can recognize denial when he sees it, but if denial is what's working right now, he's not going to break Greg out of it. That'll come later.]

Yeah.

[There's a moment of silence, and then another. He's bad at this. He's bad at emotions, bad at people, and there's a part of him that just doesn't want to care - not here, not where he knows he or anyone else could be yanked away at any moment-]

[But he can't help himself. Greg is here, and he's not okay, and they're all stuck here together, and Wash just can't ignore his empathy like he could a few years ago.]

[He isn't Recovery One anymore. He hasn't been for a long time. Burning everything down from the inside out is no longer an option - it hasn't been for a long time. It's easier in the very short term, but it just fucks everything up in the long run. He has to remember that.]

[And he has to try.]

Look, I'm bad at...at all of this. But we're in the same boat. If you need someone to listen...I can do that.

[Usually, this is where he'd put on his grin, shake it off, offer to go get some pizza or something. That worked pretty well on children, and threw off emotionally restrained aliens. This is an adult human, perhaps emotionally restrained but attentive. He can't shrug it off so well here.

Still, Wash is barely more than a stranger, at this point. What was he supposed to tell him, his whole mess of a life with magic aliens? More than that, no human on Earth had ever been able to...

It hit him, properly, at that point. No human could do magic. Not just on Earth, it wasn't physically possible. He wasn't on Earth, not his at least. He couldn't even be in the same sort of reality.]

Oh... oh jeez. I... where can I even start...?

[It's so insane, it's too much to take in. And yet, the realization's familiar, in how entirely alien it is. Greg choked out a laugh. Somehow, someway, he's gone and done it again.]

Hah... this is unbelievable... the culture shock's finally hitting me, man. [He laughs again, and he can't help the tears leaking out.] Oh man, I'm a wreck. I can't tell you anything, I don't know what's what anymore.

[Yep, full-on breakdown time. He could...he could handle this, as long as it wasn't him. Somehow. Right.]

[He uses the space of a few moments to try to think his way through this, through someone else's breakdown. Maybe he could meet him halfway? Sometimes you had to listen, and sometimes you had to open up yourself - he'd figured that out with Tucker. Did you know I was the worst Freelancer on my squad?]

[It was worth a try, at least.]

In the...the last place I was in, they gave us magical pets. Build an animal out of neon Legos, feed it a cookie, and it'll love you forever. I wound up with a fluffy yellow bat, about the size of a volleyball, and I hated it. Magic isn't real where I come from - I didn't want any part of it, and I definitely didn't want some pet following me around.

But...he grew on me. The whole place did. [And now he misses Fang, and Melody, and Puddles, and- and he yanks himself out of that train of thought before it spirals. Not his breakdown. Not yet.] Point being, you can get used to anything, and eventually you'll get used to this. It's just...it's gonna take time. All of it will.

[The distraught laughter wound its way back down into more deep breathing. He wiped at his eyes again, though the tears hadn't really stopped.

That's right. Wash said he had experience with this sort of thing. Magic pets, magic powers, magic worlds, from a place without any.] Heck of a thing to get used to. [It explains a little about Wash, at least.]

Back home... [It's so far away. Oh man.] ...back home, humans and magic just... don't mix. It's just... not possible. But I guess I was young, and... heh, you never think the rules apply to you, huh?

I... I made a lot of lives a lot harder, getting involved with magic. [Who knows how things would be, if he'd just kept driving. He screws up his face, and sniffles loudly. Nope. Trying to imagine it, he comes up with a blank.]

We figured it out, though. Eventually. So... I can manage again.

You can get used to anything. [He shrugs, like that wasn't the biggest understatement of the past week.]

[Okay, that sounded like Greg had experience, with- with something, at least. Probably not the best time to pry. He gives it a moment to settle instead, to let Greg catch his breath.]

You don't have to do it all at once, you know. [Wash sure isn't.] Like I said, it takes time.

Yeah... yeah, it does. [It doesn't happen all at once. But in the end... he wouldn't trade his life back home for anything. Maybe, somewhere far down the line, this can be for the better. He'll have to wait to see, for now.]

Wash... thanks. Seriously. [He wipes his nose on his arm, and gives Wash a weak smile. He certainly doesn't feel good, or even decent, or really anything short of awful. But he does feel just a little better than a few minutes ago.] You're a good guy, you know that?

[Greg's doing better than Wash is at the moment; Wash can't manage a smile. He nods instead, and-]

[Wait, did Greg really just say that?]

[His eyes widen for a moment as he processes that. This is the guy he took his considerable frustration out on when he first arrived, and now Greg is...thanking him? Complimenting him? It's like the Reds and Blues all over again. He just attracts these people.]

[After a few moments of trying and failing to process this turn of events, Wash just looks away.]

...Thanks.

[There's an interesting reaction to being thanked. Maybe the battle-experienced, angry, bitter soldier is shy? Greg's smile flickers and fades, and he shrugs as he straightens himself up.]

Ah, man. I made you run out on your beer, huh? I'll have to buy you another sometime. Or, like, lunch. Something.

[He's not sure how soon he should go back to that bar, and he hasn't yet figured out that things are generally free around here. It's the thought that counts.]