lorentzian | 01 ✴ written / action

My name is Jane Foster. And if I'm remembering everything correctly, which I can hardly believe, then I've been here before. That being the case, there are a few people I need to talk to. You'll know who you are.

For those who don't know me, you might remember a spectacularly failed attempt at escaping the enclosure some time ago. (Sorry for the vague time frame. I haven't figured out yet how long I've been gone.) For anyone who arrived after that time, I'm an astrophysicist who specializes in wormholes. Well, it's more complex than that, I also study quantum energy fluctuations and related terrestrial phenomena pretty much all over the world - Earth, I mean. Earth. Earth in 2013, for anyone curious. Sorry, this is getting off topic.

In a nice turn of events, I didn't wake up outside, so no search and rescue needed this time.

I guess, um.

Hi, everyone. Old and new. It's - weird to be back.

[ Once she's done writing that plain, unembellished message, Jane shuts her journal and sighs, staring at the blank wall opposite her. Thank the powers at be for small blessings, like waking up warm and comfortable for once instead of half-frozen on a forest floor.

Since the apartment in which she awoke is one of the unclaimed ones, there's nothing really here for her to make use of - or, alternatively, disturb. So a short while later she is slipping out the door, walking on tip-toe down the halls and stairways, though she'll pause at the entrance of the building. She doesn't relish the idea of going out in the cold barefoot and in only a sundress. So she'll skulk about there, deliberating while checking her journal periodically for responses. Anyone who doesn't immediately strike her as Overtly And Comically Evil will probably get a hello. ]

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[ Her brow knits. ]

Yeah, of course. Here--

[ She picks up her journal from where she'd set it down and moves to hold it out to him, her expression a question, though she asks nothing further. ]

[He sets aside his coffee and slides the journal over, lifting it and flipping through for a moment. When he finds his own entry, he silently hands it back and gets his coffee again, ducking his head and sipping quietly at it. It's not exactly a full explanation, but he's hoping it's enough to at least explain his emotional state.]

[ With a feeling of foreboding, she takes the journal, gives him one last look, and plays the entry back.

Oh, god. The way he sounds is enough to make her sick with concern. She tries very hard to keep her expression schooled as the explanation goes on, but she just can't. Halfway through she presses a hand over her mouth and doesn't lower it until long moments after the recording has stopped.

Be careful with your magic. ]

Oh, my god. Billy. Billy, I'm so--

[ Without another word she sets everything down - journal, coffee, anything - so she can go over and pull him into a tight hug. ]

[He does at least accept the hug, returning it one-handed, though he can't quite look at her yet. He's not proud of what happened, nor does he think he should be getting the sympathy for it, but... god, it really is nice to be held. She wasn't there. He didn't hurt her. They at least managed to dodge that bullet, and for that, he's grateful.]

...so... that's what you missed. Welcome back, huh...?

Billy.

[ There's a small waver to her voice, but her hands are firm as she steps back from the hug enough to cup his face instead. Her face is pinched with distress and care, but she's trying to smile anyway. ]

What kind of big sister would I be if I wasn't glad to see my little brother again? So don't you even start that with me.

[ She drops her hands, sighing out heavily, and every inch of her is worry, electrified and too restless to stay still, but she forces herself not to move. The energy channels in fingers that tap at nothing but the air over her thighs. ]

.... if you don't want to tell me the details, I will really, truly understand. But I want you to know that family doesn't stop loving family just because something bad happened. Okay? I'm not going anywhere.

[Billy doesn't respond for a long moment. He glances up as she cups his face, then down again, his expression sick with guilt and uncertainty and, truth be told, surprise. Every time someone hears about what happened or sees the effect and doesn't hate him for it is a shock, and he's still not over that feeling.

Finally he shifts from foot to foot, chewing idly on his lower lip, and tilts his head towards the living room area.]

We should... sit down. I'l put the fire on, get you those socks. We've got blankets. And...

[A pause, an exhale, an air of uncertainty that just won't leave him alone anymore.]

...we can talk.

... sounds like a plan to me. [ Her smile is crooked, but warm, and some of the tension seeps from her posture. ] Come on. [ She'll pick up her journal and head over there. ]

... you know, this might sound really weird, but, um, if you had a pair of sweatpants I could borrow.... [ Sucks air in through her teeth and smiles sheepishly this time. ]

[He glances down as they walk, brows lifting a bit, then smiles weakly. Yeah... sundress. Not really her style. He sets down his coffee and steps back, gesturing.]

Come on, you can pick something out of my closet and get changed. I promise it's all clean.

[The stuff in the closet, anyway. And Jane's awesome enough to be invited to his hobbit hole of geekery.]

[ Oh man. Teenage boy bedroom.

Nerdy teenage boy bedroom.

Jane has to stifle a laugh the second she steps in. ]

Oh my god. What a dork. [ WITH SO MUCH FONDNESS. ]

[He reddens a little, scuffing a hand through his hair. You know what? This is a lot better than talking about everything else that needs discussing. He'll take even the teasing.

The room itself is pretty lived in, though. It's a mess, but lovingly so, and there are signs of Teddy's presence as well. Mostly when he opens the closet and it's half-full of clothes that wouldn't fit him properly, or fashions that don't suit him. He also pointedly ignores the spandex uniform buried against the corner wall.]

Y-yeah, yeah... this is actually nothing compared to my room back home. My, um. Collections are many.

[He steps back, gesturing and heading for the door.]

Take whatever you're comfortable with. You want something to eat?

[ Jane wrinkles her nose, amused and teasing and oh so unable to help herself. ]

Is Kirk still here? If so, don't tell him I said this, but I used to have his picture, you know, the Shatner version, taped to my wall. I know what it means to be a geek.

[ She does notice - can't help <>but notice - the way he ignores his uniform, But she won't pin him on it. Instead she gamely steps over to the closet and starts rifling through. ]

Sure. Whatever you have on hand is fine with me. Thanks, Billy.

[He nods and heads out with a wave, shutting the door behind him for privacy, then bustles about the kitchenette grabbing some food- a bit of fruit, crackers, chips. Lazy house-hosting foods. When she comes out it's scattered on the table with the coffee, and he's curled up on the couch with a blanket, and an extra one set aside for her.]

[ She emerges after a few minutes wearing this t-shirt over a pair of too-long sweatpants that she's had to roll up at the cuff. She can't seem to stop grinning. ]

Oh, my god. After my day, this is a feast. Thank you, Billy. [ She plops down on the couch beside him, sampling some of the fruit to wash down with coffee and settle under the blanket. ]

[He smiles at the shirt - good choice, Jane, good choice - and pulls his legs up a bit, passing her a pillow.]

I'd offer to cook you some real food, but Teddy's the only one who cooks in this place, and he's at school. You can come for dinner if you want, though.

Huh. That's funny. I thought this was real food, unless you just managed to serve me a really tasty wax replica.

[ In other words: don't worry about it, you doofus. She lifts her legs off the floor so she can sit cross-legged on the couch instead. ]

Not that I'm opposed to dinner, either. I'd like that, actually.

Ha ha.

[Billy drags the chip bowl closer to sit on the couch between them; he still hasn't had breakfast, and having a big sister over is the best excuse to avoid a healthy breakfast.]

So what kind of terrible day did you have for this to be a feast, exactly? What happened after you got back home?

[Because seriously why would he want to keep talking about himself by choice. Plus, catching up is totally important, too.]

01 ✴ written / action

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