[more like a half hour, but she's only been at the edge of the high rises once. she's refused every offer Bass has made to see his apartment, afraid that she'll end up asking him for a contract just to get out of the down. nevertheless, she uses his name to get into the up and then pauses before riding in the elevator to the fifty-seventh floor.
[ Neal hasn’t told many people about moving — he’s kept his place in the Down — but he welcomes Charlie in despite that, holding the door wide for her as he swings it open. He shares the space with Cable most days, although Neal keeps his own room, thankfully, and it’s tidy as it is spacious. ]
Hey...
[ Confidence man, indeed! He closes the door behind her and clears his throat. ]
No, I. I should probably get used to coming up here. [she has the grace to blush.] Not here. Just, when I sign a contract, I'm sure it'll be something like this.
[she glances around the apartment as she follows him to the room and takes a breath as she looks him over. he looks good, really good.
it's not as easy as she wants it to be to forget all the emotions he'd triggered in her when she'd been not-really-pregnant. it's just as difficult to squash the feelings that the whole ordeal caused her to feel and she finally reaches to push back hair that's already in a long braid.]
I'm glad you messaged me. I was thinking about you. About everything that happened.
That makes two of us. I can't stop thinking about it, if I'm being honest.
[ It's part of the reason it's taken him so long to get back to her. Between his own issues and this, Neal's been having a hard time getting out of bed some days. Already the guilt is eating at him and he tries not to show it, but if Charlie's paying attention, she'll easily note his eyes don't lower: If he's looking at her, he's looking at her face; if he's not looking at her face, he's looking elsewhere.
In his room — a semi-tidy offshoot from the living area — it may not be immediately obvious, but Neal has been painting. Canvases stack behind his easel in the corner, pops of color creeping out to the edges. The picture in progress, still sitting on the easel itself, is primarily blues and blacks, cut with a searing, pale yellow, both stark and abstract against the dark background. Evocative of moody thunderstorms, it's not Neal's favorite medium, nor does it accurately represent anything of his 'true' art style, but it's there and probably meant something to him while he was busied with its building process. ]
Do you want to sit down? [ He gestures to his perfectly made bed, trying to be the decent host he knows he can be. ] How about a drink?
[she notices that he's looking, but what he sees is more accurately representative of the woman he met in the bar than the woman he saw in the hotel; she's slender, fit, tan, and not at all pregnant. Whatever spell had taken hold those hours at the hotel have long passed and though she takes his invitation to sit, she does so with a moment's hesitation. Not because it's a bed, but because he seems so uncomfortable.
it's as she sits that she really takes in the painting on the easel, recognizing the colors as something threatening in the sky, perhaps not exactly a thunderstorm, but it reminds her of home. of the nanotech playing with the weather, and it prompts a soft smile.]
I like that. [she nods at the object she's referring to.] It reminds me of Texas. Of the skies in Texas at night.
[and then, because she can't skirt the issue forever, she focuses her bright blue eyes on his and says, with more tenderness than she means to:] Are you okay?
[ He presses his lips together and his shoulders lift. Neal likes being vulnerable the least of all, and it seems Duplicity has a way of bringing out his vulnerabilities. Even as a successful (and somewhat celebrated) conman, he's finding absorbing the way of this society is a challenge, and not in the ways he tends to enjoy; it's difficult in a way that Neal's been otherwise able to avoid in his previous life.
He grabs up a glass — there's so much space afforded to him in this one room in the Up, that he has his own little bar — and the sound of running water from his private bathroom feels more like an accusation than anything, because Neal knows he has everything he needs here and he's made use of this fact by living in his own little, depressive hole.
When he returns, he offers out the glass and glancing back over his shoulder at the painting. ]
[he answers and then disappears into the bathroom to fill the glass and she's hit with a sense of guilt because it's her fault that he's not okay. maybe not all her fault, but at least partially. she absorbs that guilt and takes a breath before standing again, feeling distinctly uncomfortable even though he's invited her there.
taking the glass when he offers it, she follows his gaze to the painting and, though she knows it's not being given out of a sense of sentimentality, she thinks about the things she's owned over the last several years and feels oddly touched anyway.]
Thanks. [taking a sip of the water, she follows it with a clearing of her throat.] Did you want to talk or? [he says he's not okay and she's not sure if she's supposed to help him fix it or not. she wants to. she doesn't want to be the reason he feels awkward.] How can I help?
[ Perhaps now Charlie's beginning to understand why Neal wanted to give her the comfort option. He's too smart, and he knows better than to delude himself by now, so what issues he does have with depression, he can identify pretty readily. It's not a good look on him — one of the few things — and even now, when he least wants to, he acknowledges that. ]
I was told it wouldn't last. [ That sounds cryptic, right? Neal leans, arms crossing for the comfort of it. ] The baby— The pregnancy— Whatever we want to call it. Hallucination, I guess.
[ He looks elsewhere, struggling against a tight throat and stinging eyes. This is incredibly hard for Neal, of course, but that's not why he'd asked Charlie to come by. He could talk all day about his dreams of a beautiful family of his own, but that didn't absolve him of his own guilt over the matter. ]
I wanted to make sure you were okay. If... you do want to talk, I can— We can. I'm here, that's what I mean. A-and I can help if you don't have anyone. Cable will— He'll do what I ask. I don't want you to think I'd just abandoned you there. Here...
it's the most appropriate and it still cuts the most. it's harsh and accurate and charlie hates the way it sounds after how real everything felt for those few hours that morning. even though she'd known deep down that it couldn't be possible, letting herself believe had felt right. now she's looking at neal and he sounds like it hurts him to even say it, so she nods and steps closer.]
I don't think you abandoned me. Not that first time, not at the hotel. [she takes a drink from her glass before she sets it down and folds her own arms across her chest and focuses on his eyes. he seems determined to hide his gaze and his guilt, but she waits, patient, as he gathers control or loses it again.]
It wasn't real, Neal. I wasn't your responsibility. [she dips her head to ensure he's looking at her and her expression is serious.] You don't have to worry about me. I can take care of myself.
[it's not entirely accurate. charlie's biggest fear is people leaving her. abandoning her. whether through their own volition or not, people in charlie's life continuously walk out of it and it's something she's used to. unfortunately, she's also gotten used to assuaging the guilt of those that've done so.
[ He says it, but he doesn't know-know. Neal can make educated guesses, he can make assumptions, but he's barely had a chance to get to know Charlie in ways less biblical, and while it seems like he should believe her, it doesn't mean he won't have some say, or some stake. Still, he knows how this looks — how he looks — and Neal doesn't think he's doing himself any favors letting the emotions flow.
Taking in a deep breath, he finally nods and meets her eyes more squarely and purposefully. ]
I know you're strong. I can see that. But we're all in the weeds here, and the last thing anyone needs is someone to be so inconsiderate as to make their problems someone else's.
[Charlie inhales like she's about to say something, thinks better of it, then stops and looks away for a moment before going all in.
He's not just some nobody that she's met here. Of the experiences she had, he's been kind of it with the ones that matter. Sure, he'd walked away after that night at the bar, but he'd also just been there when their mutual... hallucination had popped up and it'd affected him, too, clearly. Maybe, just maybe, being the badass she was used to being around people wasn't the right move to make.
She takes another breath and tries again.]
Maybe that is what we need. [she holds up her hand.] Where I come from, none of this exists. No electricity, no manufactured clothes, no hot running water. [she gives him a smile.] No good food. People tend to think about themselves first and what they can get out of everyone else. It's why the world collapsed after the power went out. It's why I've lost everything and everyone I've ever cared about.
[maybe she's not strong, maybe she just fakes it like everyone else.] I don't want you to be sorry, Neal. It happened. It sucked. It's something I'm never going to have and, you know, for a while, I wanted to believe I could. We could. And I don't think it's a bad thing to be upset about it. [she shrugs and looks down for a moment.] I was.
[it's an impulsive move and she'd never do this were anyone else in the vicinity, but she reaches out as if she's going to give him a hug.] I wanted to check on you because it was something that happened to you, too.
[ While Neal doesn't necessarily agree — if anything, it happened at him, not to him — but he doesn't shy away from taking that hug. He's such a sucker for contact, for that feeling of being a human being connecting with another human being, and as he holds her to him, his arms close around her tightly. ]
You're a better person than I am, Charlie.
[ Of that, he seems certain. Neal doesn't think she'll agree, and he probably is being unfair with himself, but truthfully, he doesn't think he was quite ready for a shock like that when he'd hardly absorbed the seven shocks he'd taken beforehand. ]
It's hard to know what your life was life then, but if this is better... [ He doesn't want to dismiss that. It's important to her, it ought to be acknowledged. ] I'm glad I didn't ruin that for you here. It's easy to forget people have it rougher than this when I'm throwing myself a pity party.
[she doesn't agree but she's not about to argue with him. he has no idea the things she's done to stay alive and she's going to keep it that way for as long as possible. she wants to count him among the few friends she has here and she wants to chase them away as slowly as possible.]
It would take a lot more than what you've done to ruin anything in my life, Neal. [she pulls back just a little so she can look up at him.] But parties are always better with more people, even the pity parties we throw ourselves.
[ He looks down at her for a long moment, staring as if searching for something. It's there, he's sure, but hard to see even this close. Still, he nods and then pulls her back into a hug, not quite ready to let go. ]
You're right about that.
[ His whole body seems sigh, muscles loosening like his guard's physically falling around him. He can be incredibly selfish at times, and now doesn't feel all that different. Still, he can't bring himself to send her away, to be by himself, either, or think that she might be by herself, too. ]
Would you stay for dinner? It's supposed to be just me tonight. I've got plenty.
[needing the contact more than she wants to admit, charlie leans into the hug he gives her and feels that sigh his body seems to give. her own responds as if in answer and it's just nice to be held by someone she feels like understands. he was there, he knows, he gets it.
the offer to stay is generous and she nods, her head still resting against his chest.]
Yeah, that'd be good.
[her cooking skills are a bit rusty if it doesn't include an open flame, so maybe she'll watch this time, but she's always down for company. despite trekking her way back and forth from texas to nevada and back again, she's not really as solitary as she likes to think she is.]
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no subject
[more like a half hour, but she's only been at the edge of the high rises once. she's refused every offer Bass has made to see his apartment, afraid that she'll end up asking him for a contract just to get out of the down. nevertheless, she uses his name to get into the up and then pauses before riding in the elevator to the fifty-seventh floor.
the door gets a sharp knock.]
no subject
Hey...
[ Confidence man, indeed! He closes the door behind her and clears his throat. ]
I would have come to you.
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[she glances around the apartment as she follows him to the room and takes a breath as she looks him over. he looks good, really good.
it's not as easy as she wants it to be to forget all the emotions he'd triggered in her when she'd been not-really-pregnant. it's just as difficult to squash the feelings that the whole ordeal caused her to feel and she finally reaches to push back hair that's already in a long braid.]
I'm glad you messaged me. I was thinking about you. About everything that happened.
no subject
[ It's part of the reason it's taken him so long to get back to her. Between his own issues and this, Neal's been having a hard time getting out of bed some days. Already the guilt is eating at him and he tries not to show it, but if Charlie's paying attention, she'll easily note his eyes don't lower: If he's looking at her, he's looking at her face; if he's not looking at her face, he's looking elsewhere.
In his room — a semi-tidy offshoot from the living area — it may not be immediately obvious, but Neal has been painting. Canvases stack behind his easel in the corner, pops of color creeping out to the edges. The picture in progress, still sitting on the easel itself, is primarily blues and blacks, cut with a searing, pale yellow, both stark and abstract against the dark background. Evocative of moody thunderstorms, it's not Neal's favorite medium, nor does it accurately represent anything of his 'true' art style, but it's there and probably meant something to him while he was busied with its building process. ]
Do you want to sit down? [ He gestures to his perfectly made bed, trying to be the decent host he knows he can be. ] How about a drink?
no subject
[she notices that he's looking, but what he sees is more accurately representative of the woman he met in the bar than the woman he saw in the hotel; she's slender, fit, tan, and not at all pregnant. Whatever spell had taken hold those hours at the hotel have long passed and though she takes his invitation to sit, she does so with a moment's hesitation. Not because it's a bed, but because he seems so uncomfortable.
it's as she sits that she really takes in the painting on the easel, recognizing the colors as something threatening in the sky, perhaps not exactly a thunderstorm, but it reminds her of home. of the nanotech playing with the weather, and it prompts a soft smile.]
I like that. [she nods at the object she's referring to.] It reminds me of Texas. Of the skies in Texas at night.
[and then, because she can't skirt the issue forever, she focuses her bright blue eyes on his and says, with more tenderness than she means to:] Are you okay?
no subject
[ He presses his lips together and his shoulders lift. Neal likes being vulnerable the least of all, and it seems Duplicity has a way of bringing out his vulnerabilities. Even as a successful (and somewhat celebrated) conman, he's finding absorbing the way of this society is a challenge, and not in the ways he tends to enjoy; it's difficult in a way that Neal's been otherwise able to avoid in his previous life.
He grabs up a glass — there's so much space afforded to him in this one room in the Up, that he has his own little bar — and the sound of running water from his private bathroom feels more like an accusation than anything, because Neal knows he has everything he needs here and he's made use of this fact by living in his own little, depressive hole.
When he returns, he offers out the glass and glancing back over his shoulder at the painting. ]
It's yours. If you want it.
no subject
taking the glass when he offers it, she follows his gaze to the painting and, though she knows it's not being given out of a sense of sentimentality, she thinks about the things she's owned over the last several years and feels oddly touched anyway.]
Thanks. [taking a sip of the water, she follows it with a clearing of her throat.] Did you want to talk or? [he says he's not okay and she's not sure if she's supposed to help him fix it or not. she wants to. she doesn't want to be the reason he feels awkward.] How can I help?
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I was told it wouldn't last. [ That sounds cryptic, right? Neal leans, arms crossing for the comfort of it. ] The baby— The pregnancy— Whatever we want to call it. Hallucination, I guess.
[ He looks elsewhere, struggling against a tight throat and stinging eyes. This is incredibly hard for Neal, of course, but that's not why he'd asked Charlie to come by. He could talk all day about his dreams of a beautiful family of his own, but that didn't absolve him of his own guilt over the matter. ]
I wanted to make sure you were okay. If... you do want to talk, I can— We can. I'm here, that's what I mean. A-and I can help if you don't have anyone. Cable will— He'll do what I ask. I don't want you to think I'd just abandoned you there. Here...
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it's the most appropriate and it still cuts the most. it's harsh and accurate and charlie hates the way it sounds after how real everything felt for those few hours that morning. even though she'd known deep down that it couldn't be possible, letting herself believe had felt right. now she's looking at neal and he sounds like it hurts him to even say it, so she nods and steps closer.]
I don't think you abandoned me. Not that first time, not at the hotel. [she takes a drink from her glass before she sets it down and folds her own arms across her chest and focuses on his eyes. he seems determined to hide his gaze and his guilt, but she waits, patient, as he gathers control or loses it again.]
It wasn't real, Neal. I wasn't your responsibility. [she dips her head to ensure he's looking at her and her expression is serious.] You don't have to worry about me. I can take care of myself.
[it's not entirely accurate. charlie's biggest fear is people leaving her. abandoning her. whether through their own volition or not, people in charlie's life continuously walk out of it and it's something she's used to. unfortunately, she's also gotten used to assuaging the guilt of those that've done so.
especially when she has no one.]
no subject
[ He says it, but he doesn't know-know. Neal can make educated guesses, he can make assumptions, but he's barely had a chance to get to know Charlie in ways less biblical, and while it seems like he should believe her, it doesn't mean he won't have some say, or some stake. Still, he knows how this looks — how he looks — and Neal doesn't think he's doing himself any favors letting the emotions flow.
Taking in a deep breath, he finally nods and meets her eyes more squarely and purposefully. ]
I know you're strong. I can see that. But we're all in the weeds here, and the last thing anyone needs is someone to be so inconsiderate as to make their problems someone else's.
[ He feels like he's doing it right now. ]
I'm sorry.
no subject
He's not just some nobody that she's met here. Of the experiences she had, he's been kind of it with the ones that matter. Sure, he'd walked away after that night at the bar, but he'd also just been there when their mutual... hallucination had popped up and it'd affected him, too, clearly. Maybe, just maybe, being the badass she was used to being around people wasn't the right move to make.
She takes another breath and tries again.]
Maybe that is what we need. [she holds up her hand.] Where I come from, none of this exists. No electricity, no manufactured clothes, no hot running water. [she gives him a smile.] No good food. People tend to think about themselves first and what they can get out of everyone else. It's why the world collapsed after the power went out. It's why I've lost everything and everyone I've ever cared about.
[maybe she's not strong, maybe she just fakes it like everyone else.] I don't want you to be sorry, Neal. It happened. It sucked. It's something I'm never going to have and, you know, for a while, I wanted to believe I could. We could. And I don't think it's a bad thing to be upset about it. [she shrugs and looks down for a moment.] I was.
[it's an impulsive move and she'd never do this were anyone else in the vicinity, but she reaches out as if she's going to give him a hug.] I wanted to check on you because it was something that happened to you, too.
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You're a better person than I am, Charlie.
[ Of that, he seems certain. Neal doesn't think she'll agree, and he probably is being unfair with himself, but truthfully, he doesn't think he was quite ready for a shock like that when he'd hardly absorbed the seven shocks he'd taken beforehand. ]
It's hard to know what your life was life then, but if this is better... [ He doesn't want to dismiss that. It's important to her, it ought to be acknowledged. ] I'm glad I didn't ruin that for you here. It's easy to forget people have it rougher than this when I'm throwing myself a pity party.
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It would take a lot more than what you've done to ruin anything in my life, Neal. [she pulls back just a little so she can look up at him.] But parties are always better with more people, even the pity parties we throw ourselves.
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You're right about that.
[ His whole body seems sigh, muscles loosening like his guard's physically falling around him. He can be incredibly selfish at times, and now doesn't feel all that different. Still, he can't bring himself to send her away, to be by himself, either, or think that she might be by herself, too. ]
Would you stay for dinner? It's supposed to be just me tonight. I've got plenty.
no subject
the offer to stay is generous and she nods, her head still resting against his chest.]
Yeah, that'd be good.
[her cooking skills are a bit rusty if it doesn't include an open flame, so maybe she'll watch this time, but she's always down for company. despite trekking her way back and forth from texas to nevada and back again, she's not really as solitary as she likes to think she is.]
What're we having?