Yeah, well. No one's ever accused the brain of making decisions rationally. [ It's ok, she doesn't really expect him to be. They'll just keep going, however long it takes and whatever reassurance or support he needs. ]
Why do you always ask me that? I don't know. I get up and avoid it because I don't know. I need distractions, but those aren't - they're short-term. [ He finally looks at her again, for a little bit. He's never actually dealt with anything before, Max. His parents died, he drank and worked. Kidnapped, betrayed, tortured, he transformed himself into a superhero and didn't look back at all. Dying by his own hand, as many other risks as he can possibly take, even pushing away people who would have made him try to deal with it. He's never had to handle it, and never did because he didn't know how and nobody told him, 'Step one, you gotta -' And because he didn't know, he never did, and he never did because he didn't know, and now it's as self-sustaining as this tower in NYC. ]
Because I want to give it to you. [ Simply, and then with a little more carefulness to it. ] You're right, they're short term. If I found a therapist, would you talk to them? [ Because she can help, sure, she can try to sort through everything and reconcile him with it, but she's not a professional and sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger. Then again, sometimes not. ] Running away doesn't work. Not in the end. You have to face it head-on.
[ He quiets again, because he doesn't understand why she wants to do that so badly either. There's too much about all of this that doesn't make sense, that can't be predicted and derived and broken down into components and recrafted in the shape of something better, and it pisses him off.
And now he's looking away again. ] I don't know. Maybe. I sort of doubt it. I had more fun fucking around with the last shrink I went to than talking to them.
[ It's because she cares, Tony, that part's really very simple. She might not always be good at specifically articulating it, but that's always why she wants to help.
She doesn't try to chase his gaze, just stays firmly seated and there should he choose to look back, watching him but not demanding his eyes. ] If it was just us talking, would you do the same to me?
Please. Like I have the energy to lie to you. It never works anyway. Case in point.
[ Okay that was maybe a little... It's still not you Max, he's just. Displeased. This is quieter. ] Are we finished with this room? We can keep - talking, whatever. I just wanna get a washcloth. Clean up some still.
[ What about it doesn't make sense here, he matters to her, of course he matters to her. How could he not? She doesn't know how else to make him understand that except maybe flat out tell him, but. ]
Then we'll keep talking. [ Decided, calm, because he has to talk to someone and he's right, lying to her tends to not work very well. ]
[ Please don't do that something inside him might actually break. ]
Cool. [ It's relatively flat in affect, but part of that is because he's slowly getting up and is shifting moods around and any number of other things. There's a lot of stuff in play right now. And now he's on his way to his room, passing through it to stand at the sink in the bathroom. He made it in pretty smoothly - he's not nearly as wobbly as he was on the way to the couch. Not perfect, a little slow, confidence shaken, but not shaking, which is an improvement. ]
[ She's going to find a way to tell him that won't involve any breakage at all, because breaking him seems like a bad plan but he needs to know this.
She's not going to make herself obviously ready to help support his weight right now, because she feels like that might make him feel a little bit weird, but she's going to stay fairly close, casually so. She does snag him a handtowel and hand it to him before resting a hand on the small of his back for a moment, just a lingering touch as assurance of her presence. ] Do you need anything?
[ She's been trying to convince him of it for a long time now I'm not sure it's a lesson that can be learned without a certain amount of breaking.
But that would make him feel a little weird, yeah. He's calmed down a lot, by now he's just dealing with the leftover adrenaline and residual endocrine response and shit like that, as far as he's concerned. He's just sort of leaning on the counter a little bit for now - while he takes the handtowel from her without really thinking about it, he hasn't moved to turn on the faucet just yet. There are a lot of thoughts to sort through at the moment; he's okay with putting it off a little while longer. ] Thanks. No. I'm just gonna... Wash up and change, I guess.
[ If that's what's absolutely necessary, then okay, because it is a lesson he's going to learn eventually. She'd prefer to do it without breaking, but he has to learn this someday. She has to find a way.
She nods a little, moves her hand to rest the back of it on the back of his neck, just a check of temperature and a cool light presence for a moment before she pulls it back away and settles against the bathroom counter. ] Seems reasonable. [ And then, softly. ] You can't beat yourself up for it.
[ He's pretty hard-headed about some things. It comes with an over-abundance of intellect - things that you think you know, you assume anything different is just incorrect. False information. People trying to make you feel better and sugar coat things, or deliberately misleading you for some other purpose. And some of it's just plain denial.
That contact is nice, the coolness appreciated, even if he doesn't really make much of an outward sign of it and just feels slightly at a loss when she pulls her hand away again. He lets her words hit the air and dissipate a little, sink into the atmosphere they're creating, before he finally moves to wet the cloth a little. ] Can. Probably don't need to, but can. [ Folding it over again, fidgeting with it more than anything, although he does start to brush oil off his arm, clean his hands. ] I don't like irrationality.
[ The thing is, she does want to make him feel better, and she wants to help him, but she has lines she avoids crossing, and one of them is lying to people she likes. And she likes him quite a lot. So when she says something, it is always something that she means, always something she considers fully the truth.
She's not quite sure if touch is something he'll be okay with right now or if it'll just make him feel like something is being asked of him, but there's no negative reaction to her hand and after a long moment she lets her hand drift to his upper arm nearest her, slide back and forth slowly. ] It's not your fault. Not even a little bit.
[ Unfortunately, he's of the experience that it's typically those whom one likes that most often necessitate the need to lie. Or simply the opportunity. Either way, the result is similar.
Touch isn't bothering him right now, and even if it was, she typically has a grounding presence that he welcomes. It's very specific situations that would have him flinching away from her, and this doesn't happen to be one of them. At least, not now that he's had time to recollect himself. So he doesn't move away from her, but he leaves that arm where it is, uses the other one to wipe off his chest instead, careful around the edge of the reactor to make sure he's getting any trace residue. ] Doesn't change the fact that it's here.
No. It doesn't. [ Steady and certain. It doesn't really change any of the facts of the matter. But maybe, if she can eventually get him to believe it, it'll help change how he reacts to it. Her hand will stay on him until he shows any sign of not wanting it, because hopefully it is providing that grounding presence, the reminder that she's here and wants to help, that she's not going to leave him no matter what. ]
[ He wets the cloth a little bit again, folds it in a different pattern, and keeps checking and double-checking to make sure he doesn't have any more on his shoulders, his other arm. It's something to do with his hands, and it feels nice - he'd had a nice cold sweat going on earlier too and if there's some sort of cleansing metaphor to be had from this then he's doing his best to ignore. ]
Yeah. [ It's hard to argue in the face of her logic, especially given that his side of the discussion comes from a point of disliking the illogical. It just makes it pretty stupid to debate her given that as a starting point. ] I'll write it down somewhere. Keep it on a post-it.
[ She lifts her hand for a moment to let him make sure he's all cleaned off, rests it back on his shoulder when he's finished and presses her fingers against the muscles of his neck, seeing if she can't loosen them up a little. ]
I'll remind you. [ But that's not much of an agreement from him, really, and the fact remains that she knows there's no quick and easy fix for any of this. ] I'm not going to tell you this can be fixed right away. But I'm here, and you're here, and we will find a way to make it better.
[ By this point he's really just fidgeting with the cloth, folding it one way, the other, pulling at the material, running fingertips along the edge. He doesn't want to look up, doesn't want to move away from the counter - it's grounding, her hand on his arm is grounding, everything's grounding and he's worried if he moves and doesn't have any of those grounding presences, even for a moment, he'll wake up and suddenly realize he was somewhere else all along. ] Oh I don't doubt you will.
[ He's quiet again, listening to that part. Still fidgeting, but listening, and that's finally something he feels like he can accept. Whether it's because she worded it well or he suddenly changed his mind about things or what, but he can accept that. ] Yeah, okay. [ Finally a sideways glance at her, even if it's brief. ] I trust you.
[ It's ok, she can get that. If he needs to stay right here for a while, they can stay right here. She doesn't want to push too much - he knows best what will keep him all right, so they're going to stick with that.
But that - it's a reaction she believes, if one she also doesn't know what to do with, because he's said this before and he just keeps trusting her, and sometimes she thinks of precisely what that means and she doesn't know what to do with it, doesn't know how to believe she won't fuck it up.
But she's going to do her goddamned best not to. ] You can always find me, if you need me or you think I would help at all. Always.
[ She can more or less assuage her self-doubt with the knowledge that she is amongst the four total people in his entire life in whom he feels he can definitively place any significant level of trust. Four might seem like a fair number, but when you consider it's basically one of those four, or something he created himself, it brings it into an altogether different light. They might all garner independently high levels, but after you realize that it's a high level or effectively none at all, it changes the perspective somewhat. Tony's trust is more or less all or nothing, because he doesn't do well with gradients or half-ways, and it's probably unfair of him as a whole but at the same time, it doesn't feel as though there's much he can do about it.
And that's the faintest hint of levity on his face, just there. For a moment. ] Yeah, I know.
[ Unfortunately, he's of the experience that it's typically those whom one likes that most often necessitate the need to lie. Or simply the opportunity. Either way, the result is similar.
Touch isn't bothering him right now, and even if it was, she typically has a grounding presence that he welcomes. It's very specific situations that would have him flinching away from her, and this doesn't happen to be one of them. At least, not now that he's had time to recollect himself. So he doesn't move away from her, but he leaves that arm where it is, uses the other one to wipe off his chest instead, careful around the edge of the reactor to make sure he's getting any trace residue. ] Doesn't change the fact that it's here.
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And now he's looking away again. ] I don't know. Maybe. I sort of doubt it. I had more fun fucking around with the last shrink I went to than talking to them.
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She doesn't try to chase his gaze, just stays firmly seated and there should he choose to look back, watching him but not demanding his eyes. ] If it was just us talking, would you do the same to me?
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Please. Like I have the energy to lie to you. It never works anyway. Case in point.
[ Okay that was maybe a little... It's still not you Max, he's just. Displeased. This is quieter. ] Are we finished with this room? We can keep - talking, whatever. I just wanna get a washcloth. Clean up some still.
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Then we'll keep talking. [ Decided, calm, because he has to talk to someone and he's right, lying to her tends to not work very well. ]
We can go wherever you want.
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Cool. [ It's relatively flat in affect, but part of that is because he's slowly getting up and is shifting moods around and any number of other things. There's a lot of stuff in play right now. And now he's on his way to his room, passing through it to stand at the sink in the bathroom. He made it in pretty smoothly - he's not nearly as wobbly as he was on the way to the couch. Not perfect, a little slow, confidence shaken, but not shaking, which is an improvement. ]
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She's not going to make herself obviously ready to help support his weight right now, because she feels like that might make him feel a little bit weird, but she's going to stay fairly close, casually so. She does snag him a handtowel and hand it to him before resting a hand on the small of his back for a moment, just a lingering touch as assurance of her presence. ] Do you need anything?
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But that would make him feel a little weird, yeah. He's calmed down a lot, by now he's just dealing with the leftover adrenaline and residual endocrine response and shit like that, as far as he's concerned. He's just sort of leaning on the counter a little bit for now - while he takes the handtowel from her without really thinking about it, he hasn't moved to turn on the faucet just yet. There are a lot of thoughts to sort through at the moment; he's okay with putting it off a little while longer. ] Thanks. No. I'm just gonna... Wash up and change, I guess.
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She nods a little, moves her hand to rest the back of it on the back of his neck, just a check of temperature and a cool light presence for a moment before she pulls it back away and settles against the bathroom counter. ] Seems reasonable. [ And then, softly. ] You can't beat yourself up for it.
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That contact is nice, the coolness appreciated, even if he doesn't really make much of an outward sign of it and just feels slightly at a loss when she pulls her hand away again. He lets her words hit the air and dissipate a little, sink into the atmosphere they're creating, before he finally moves to wet the cloth a little. ] Can. Probably don't need to, but can. [ Folding it over again, fidgeting with it more than anything, although he does start to brush oil off his arm, clean his hands. ] I don't like irrationality.
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She's not quite sure if touch is something he'll be okay with right now or if it'll just make him feel like something is being asked of him, but there's no negative reaction to her hand and after a long moment she lets her hand drift to his upper arm nearest her, slide back and forth slowly. ] It's not your fault. Not even a little bit.
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Touch isn't bothering him right now, and even if it was, she typically has a grounding presence that he welcomes. It's very specific situations that would have him flinching away from her, and this doesn't happen to be one of them. At least, not now that he's had time to recollect himself. So he doesn't move away from her, but he leaves that arm where it is, uses the other one to wipe off his chest instead, careful around the edge of the reactor to make sure he's getting any trace residue. ] Doesn't change the fact that it's here.
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But it's important to remember.
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Yeah. [ It's hard to argue in the face of her logic, especially given that his side of the discussion comes from a point of disliking the illogical. It just makes it pretty stupid to debate her given that as a starting point. ] I'll write it down somewhere. Keep it on a post-it.
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I'll remind you. [ But that's not much of an agreement from him, really, and the fact remains that she knows there's no quick and easy fix for any of this. ] I'm not going to tell you this can be fixed right away. But I'm here, and you're here, and we will find a way to make it better.
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[ He's quiet again, listening to that part. Still fidgeting, but listening, and that's finally something he feels like he can accept. Whether it's because she worded it well or he suddenly changed his mind about things or what, but he can accept that. ] Yeah, okay. [ Finally a sideways glance at her, even if it's brief. ] I trust you.
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But that - it's a reaction she believes, if one she also doesn't know what to do with, because he's said this before and he just keeps trusting her, and sometimes she thinks of precisely what that means and she doesn't know what to do with it, doesn't know how to believe she won't fuck it up.
But she's going to do her goddamned best not to. ] You can always find me, if you need me or you think I would help at all. Always.
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And that's the faintest hint of levity on his face, just there. For a moment. ] Yeah, I know.
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Touch isn't bothering him right now, and even if it was, she typically has a grounding presence that he welcomes. It's very specific situations that would have him flinching away from her, and this doesn't happen to be one of them. At least, not now that he's had time to recollect himself. So he doesn't move away from her, but he leaves that arm where it is, uses the other one to wipe off his chest instead, careful around the edge of the reactor to make sure he's getting any trace residue. ] Doesn't change the fact that it's here.