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[oh good because her next person was going to be tony stark (no, not that one, the other one) and that was sure to end in disaster. She does smile though, at the unexpected reply, and switches over to text,]

k c u then.

[enjoy her teenage grammar. Half an hour gives her time to grab some decent food, too, which she bets he could use. Annnnd then off she goes!]

[He's there in the next fifteen, but that's good because it gives him time to scout out the area and make sure that he's not walking into a trap.

Just because they've had a few civil conversations doesn't mean he trusts her, and someone else could easily have got hold of or hacked her phone. But it seems like the area is clear, so she'll find him just sitting on a log near where the campfire had been before.]

[She's early as well, though not by as wide a margin and she grins when she sees him, completely bright and earnest.

After all, she wasn't really sure he'd show up.]

Hey! Here, brought you something.

[She slings her bag down from her shoulder, pulls the fraying zipper open and pulls out a tinfoil-wrapped meal. Smells like meat and vegetables. Somebody's been learning to cook. It's a fucking joy, seeing all the shit they've got lying around here you can just... turn into a meal. Having food every day - fresh food, not shit that's been canned for so long you have to decide if the botulism's worth the risk - is so fucking weird to her.

She's actually grown about an inch since getting here just because of the damn nutrition.]

[He relaxes a little when he sees that it's just her, nobody else, though he can't help the confusion when she holds out that tinfoil wrapped meal.

It smells good, better than most of the stuff he's been subsisting on recently, and he can't help that his stomach rumbles loudly.]

You called me out here to give me food?

[Oh for fuck's sake. Ellie rolls her eyes a little, marches over to where he's sitting and pushes the food right into his hands. Take it, jerk.]

Well, not just to give you food. Um, I wanted to let you know I have a roommate now. And I'm not really sure I trust her, [she's saying that mildly, but it's code for 'she keeps leaving my door unlocked and I'm paranoid as fuck so we are having Problems] so... just in case you were thinking about another shower my place is probably not a good idea.

[Which is sort of a silly reason now that she thinks about it. She scuffs the ground with her foot.]

Just thought you should know. You know?

[Ellie stop saying 'know'.]

[It's a mark of the tentative trust between them that he doesn't question if the food is a trap, or if it might be laced with something, he just pulls off the foil and starts to wolf it down like a man starving.]

You looking for someplace else to go?

[He can read between the lines there, a roommate who can't be trusted isn't a good thing to have in somewhere that should be a sanctuary.

He won't be going around there for showers again, anyway.]

There are other rooms that aren't being used.

[He knows, he breaks into them sometimes.]

I'm thinking about it, yeah.

[The log is a bit too high up for her to scuff the ground with her feet, but she sort of swings her legs back and forth.]

I've got enough money saved up I could probably just... rent my own place, and then nobody gets to bitch about how many locks I've got on the doors.

[It's a bit of a self-deprecating poke at herself and her paranoia. She knows it's not healthy. Knows it isn't even necessary, here-- like, how many people have gotten killed over a can of peaches since she got here? None that she knows of.

She hesitates, and then sort of switches tracks.]

Do you know if... that's what people used to be like? Before-- [he knows her history now, so she just sort of waves her hand in a way meant to encompass its entirety.] Nobody caring about locks, people being friendly with their neighbors. That kind of thing.

[He's not about to tell her that she's not old enough to rent her own place, she's obviously used to being self sufficient and it would be better for her to be somewhere that she felt safe rather than being forced to live with someone else. So he just nods in approval at her plan to get a place of her own, with literally no judgement about how many locks she might want on the door.

The question, though, that stumps him.

He's silent for a few moments, though not in a way that says he doesn't want to answer, more making sure he has the right answer before he speaks.]

Not always, not everywhere, but yeah. I think I have a memory of coming home one day to find a pie on my counter from my neighbour, I don't remember her name, but I can remember she used to leave a pie maybe once a month or so.

[So that was a friendly situation, right?]

[He seems like a guy so fucking weighed down by everything, by breathing, that seeing that abated for a memory that's comparatively light is nothing short of a miracle.

He's not like Joel. Joel-- she's still trying to figure out how she feels about some of the shit he's done. But Joel is... there's something different about the way he carries his bullshit. This Mark guy strikes her as a lot more sad and somber. Older and younger than Joel at the same time, in ways she's not sure she can articulate. Like... paper that's been drawn on and erased until it's worn thin and almost translucent, and the old lines are overlaid and the whole thing's a mess.

She thinks they'd probably hate each other, though, that one's certain. Not that Joel likes people to begin with. Or Mark does, for that matter.]

Sounds like it was a nice place. I mean... who doesn't like free pie?

[Now that he's thought about her, he wishes he could remember her name or even what she looked like. But the only part of her that he still has is the smell of freshly baked pie and loopy handwriting telling him to wash out the dish and leave it outside her door. It feels wrong that he doesn't remember more of her than that.

His brow furrows just slightly and he shrugs, it's not something he can talk much more about without giving away how little he knows about his own past.]

You look like you've been having pie, that's for sure. Other stuff too, you've grown evens since I met you.

[That just gets her to laugh a bit, not even remotely self-conscious.]

I know, right? It's wild. My pants barely fit and I swear I've grown a fucking inch.

[Still no boobs though. Okay, yes, she's disgruntled about that one. One day, boobs. One day. Skeleseer's quiet spirits can kiss her fucking ass about that one.]

Joel told me that people used to try to be skinny on purpose. [A laugh.] Can you fucking imagine?

[She can't even imagine a world like that. Where being thin is a luxury. The only person she's ever met with a paunch is Bill, and fuck knows how he managed that much.]

Yeah, I come from a place like that.

[Sort of. His few memories of growing up were of the tail end of the Depression and the war, where nothing was plentiful and people were definitely not skinny by choice. But now that he's broken free of HYDRA, he'd have to be blind not to see the advertising everywhere he goes.

Not that it has anything to do with him, if there's one thing definitely not on his radar, it's how he looks.]

It's a good look on you, eating well.

[Joel she would have elbowed in the ribs. This guy, however, she just sort of nudges gently. Know your audience.]

It's a great fucking look on me, jerk, get it right.

[A beat. Then,]

I kinda feel guilty about it, though, you know? There's a lot of people back home who won't ever get a chance to know what this is like. Just... eating whatever you want, whenever. No consequences.

[He nods, tensing just a little when she elbows him, though not enough to move away or be anything more than an instinctive reaction. He's not going to give her some useless platitude about how it's okay, because it's not. And that guilt probably won't go away any time soon.]

You're right, they probably won't get a chance to know what this is like. But you have, and you didn't screw any of them over to get this chance, so don't waste it.

[But it all ties back into the same issue, with her. She lived, Riley died. She lived, Tess died. She lived, Sam and Henry died. Joel almost died. Sometimes she just feels fucking cursed, like death just follows her around and touches everything she's ever cared about.

She's dedicated so much of her life to living for other people. Even her mom, whom she barely knew. The idea of not wasting her chance is something she struggles with every fucking day. She wishes she believed in god, or something. Maybe it'd make it easier to accept that she just can't seem to get her ticket punched. I'm still waiting for my turn.

Her shoulders hunch.]

Yeah. [It takes reaching down into some impossible reserve and pulling a tattered thread of optimism out of the pit of her fucking soul before she can add more to that:] And hey... maybe one day it'll be the same back home again, you know? Cheeseburgers for everybody.

[She fidgets a bit. Kicks her feet.]

I think you're right, by the way. I should try to find a cure here.

Edited 2017-04-11 12:02 (UTC)

[He doesn't bother to squash on her hope that maybe one day things will be better in her world, though he doubts sincerely that it would ever be in her lifetime. Even if a cure was found, even if civilisation started to rebuild, that sort of thing took generations to stick.

So he just nods to her judgement, not questioning it. It's her choice, not his.]

There's a lot of good tech here. Maybe even if you're not a cure yourself, the key to it might still be found in whatever made you immune, could be a good place to start.

[Better there than diving right into magic and all that nonsense.]

I'll keep my ears open.

[There's not really any hope to squash. She can talk a big game, live and breathe optimism, but Ellie can't even imagine a world that's any better than the one they've got. It's just... it's nice to dream.

(Poetic. 'Let's lose our minds together'.)

She gives him a wan little smile.]

Thanks. You're a good dude.

[A beat. Then,]

Do you know how to do that whole... anonymous bullshit on the network? Like whoever asked about ghouls?

Yeah.

[He didn't figure it out until he saw that post being made, and he was sort of angry with himself that it took that long, but he knows how to do it now.]

You want me to show you?

[It's easier to focus on this than the compliment she just paid him that he has no idea what to do with.]

Sure. If you don't mind.

[She pulls out her tablet without fuss and holds it out for him. Trusting that he's not going to do any shady shit with her identity.]

[He's careful to keep her tablet angled towards her so that she can see everything he's doing, slowly and methodically setting up an anonymous feed and then back to normal, and then once more to make sure it's been demonstrated properly. Then he holds the tablet back out to her.]

I'm not sure how secure the network is, even under a filter like that.

[It's why he doesn't use it unless he has to.]

Thanks.

[A beat.]

I don't really care. If somebody knew it was me, I mean. It's just...

[She huffs. It's ridiculous, and she knows it, but...]

I just hate the idea that people are going to pity me for the shitty place I come from. Like... I get it, it fucking sucks, but I don't need anybody else rubbing my nose in it, you know? It's hard to talk to normal people who've never lived like that.

[Which is probably why she gravitates towards people like 'Mark'. Ones who've seen enough shit of their own that one teenage girl being a shell-shocked killer who has too many nightmares about too many things isn't anything out of the ordinary at all.]

[It's not a good thing that he can understand her situation, objectively he knows that means she's lived a horrible life and he should pity her for it. But he doesn't. He's just kind of amazed at how strong she is to have stayed so relatively optimistic, and if she's cautious and needs to carry a weapon then that's just sensible survival strategy.

So he just nods, not offering any sympathy, and sinks down to sit on one of the nearby logs.]

Shared experience isn't an easy thing to find.

[He knows he's well and truly screwed on that front. Not unless he somehow gets past the weirdness of there being another him here.]

Show them how strong you are, teach them how to hunt and shoot, how to survive in the wilderness. Nobody pities someone they see as strong.

[She shakes her head.]

But even that's like-- hey, let me wave this freak flag over here, you know? I don't really want people to know I'm good at that kind of thing.

[Because as far as she can imagine, it leads back to the same thing in the end. Sure, they might not pity her for the shithole world, but they'd find something else to coo in sympathy over. She'd rather they all think she's from some awesome future with flying cars and no disease, that everyone's happy.

She doesn't say that it's also a good thing to keep that shit under her hat in case she needs to kill somebody. Being underestimated in a fight is a fucking lifesaver most of the time.]

[He shrugs, it's up to her what she wants to tell people and he can understand wanting to have the element of surprise. That never really exists for him, the serum and his training have given him pretty obvious muscles, and that makes it hard to pretend to be as wholly harmless as a skinny teenage girl can manage.]

Better pity than hatred.

[Trust him.]

But you don't have to tell anyone shit, some things are better left unsaid.

[She scuffs the toe of one shoe (it's getting a little small but the discomfort doesn't register as something fixable, just something to be endured) against the laces of the other and doesn't look up at him.]

You think so?

[Because she doesn't. She's dealt with both, and she'd prefer hatred by a wide, wide margin.]

Hey-- anyway, enough about me. What've you been up to? Make any new friends?

[Sorry, there's an unspoken implication there that that's exactly what you are to her.]

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