Log:Exit Music (For a Film)
With so many tasks that he's set for himself, the Capitalist is, where people tend to find him, at his desk, jotting down some notes. He has done various different things that need to be tested and which tests should follow others among other things which he wants to also accomplish. So he has schedules written, notes taken. There's also a few stacked or opened texts to be found. One of them looking like an almanac or book book of maps while others are books written about untouched, native lands and things of that nature.
The knock at the door draws his attention and lures him from his desk, but not until he's given his notes a brief read through. Only then does he actually open his door a crack, before widening the entry when noticing just who is outside.
He's dressed in something more casual, but then again, it could be because he hadn't left his room yet. A Grey T-Shirt, a pair of jeans and combat boots. That fancy watch can still be found at his wrist. "And who do I have to thank for the honor of your visit today?" It's all said in a light-mocking tone, but he gestures into his room, "Make yourself at home."
"You, yourself, and maybe a little bit of me. Mostly, though, it's your doing, knowing you're on the other side of the wall is being tugged with a little magnet. And I've done about all the alone time I'm going to do for the time being. It's still a bit odd." The Caregiver is in a little strapless fit and flare snow white dress with bright pink designer heels on and darling hair and cosmetics to match, naturally. Once in, she reaches to lay a hug around the Capitalist's midsection tight with a tiny rock back and forth, but not before a brief up and down lookover on step for the door to close behind, "Hell, you're almost rugged today."
With her cheek turned during the squeeze, she catches a glimpse of the man's desk and workspace with a few quick bats of lashes, "Damn, you're going all out with books and everything. I think I dig the idea of you sitting and looking incredibly studious. Do you have any glasses in here? If you have glasses in here too, I quit restraint, we're playing coed and professor."
Others might know this as his Driscoll look, since the first time that he dressed this casually was after Aliens. He's wearing shoes at least, even if he hasn't done much with his hair, letting bangs fall into his face. At the hug, he returns it in kind, if not a little gingerly -- patting her on the back and things of that nature. "I might step out for coffee or something stronger in a bit." He informs, his own gaze now looking out towards the books on his desk, "Since there's no internet here." He then pauses, and adds in, "What we in 2018 and beyond had to access vast amounts of information through our computers... I've been forced to do manual research with books. Trying to find another shit hole third world country sort of deal to hold Wyred Fest at as we're moving it from the Grey Island. Madison doesn't want it held in an actual third world country, believing that people will take it as an insult that we're throwing a huge party there and I can't blame her for that concern." A brow arcs slowly, "Glasses? There may be some in my wardrobe." He's sure he's even seen a monocle once... "But I've no need for them."
"Yes, I realize you don't need them, that was..." The Caregiver blinks a little at the pat on the back and deflates some before releasing the man, her joke falling a little flat after he fesses up there might be a pair. She nods some while listening to the Capitalist, pausing at the foot of the bed to wiggle free of one heel, then another on the way to the desk to start looking at some of the collection of books, "I see." Brushing some hair away from falling in her face to tuck back behind an ear while looking at a map, she mentions, "I can go if you'd rather work or step out. Or I can just go lie on the bed and be quiet and let you work and self-occupy."
"I've been at this all morning." Maybe even part of the afternoon, he's not quite sure what time it is, despite wearing a watch. The Capitalist then begins to close a few of the books that he doesn't think will be particularly useful and sets them aside. Probably for the cleaning fairies to take once they are forced to sleep.
Still curious as to her presence here, as if people didn't visit one another for no good reason at all, it brings up the question, "How are you feeling?" Rather than stepping out for coffee, he has his own minibar in this room, so if not caffiene, a little spirits will do for now. Heading there, he asks, "Care for anything?"
"... I was struggling after a particular conversation or two, I decided I wouldn't give in to doing that, I aimed to fix it, now... I'm not sure." The Caregiver admits to the Capitalist while still looking down at the books, her brows knit down some. "Did I do something wrong? Because I understand you being particularly different when we're in that door on the space station, but in here... this is a far cry from how we actually parted coming back from..."
Her eyes flit to the minibar and she shifts her weight between bare feet after posing her slow inquiry and gauging the man for a moment,, hand knocking back through her hair. Then after a wet of her lips, she decides, "Whiskey, straight."
Taking that bottle of whiskey, he fills to glasses, all the while listening to what's said. "Why do you think you may have done anything wrong?" The Captialist asks, placing the cap back onto the bottle and then moving towards her with both glasses in hand, extending one in her direction. His dark brow begins to furrow slightly, but he doesn't look annoyed, just curious or concerned. Once the glass is taken, he'll lift his own to his lips for that first sip.
"After returning from... the Lodge?" He asks, trying to put the pieces together and finish her sentence for her with his own assumption.
"No, if you'd been like this the whole of the while since, that'd be different, but you know I don't mean it so broadly. After returning from the date, the last time I saw you before... space. You know. When I was naked and sleeping on your chest. Now you're acting like you don't know me or I'm a stranger still, like you're... stuck or something. Like it's odd I want to come see you or just share the air for the sake of not being alone after we..." The Caregiver narrows her eyes a little at that particular response from the Capitalist and puffs air over her lips before looking down into the drink so she doesn't have to out her expression with eyes and face. After nodding a little to herself for one reason or another, she drinks long, then turns some to wander into sit on the edge of the bed.
Then, quietly, she sighs and rubs her free hand at tension creep at the curve of bared neck and shoulder, looking at her toes. After working her bottom lip between her teeth with bruising pressure, she looks back over at his desk and pulls in a shallow breath of air before wondering, "So. Do you feel like what you've found or organized with notes is giving you a more solid sense of doing what you're needing to do? Do you have an order to how you're planning to test?"
"You wouldn't be in this room if I were really acting like we were strangers." The Capitalist will point out, taking a much harder swig from his glass, though he doesn't polish off the contents just yet. Though he cannot fault her for thinking that something may be wrong, especially when she gives her explanation. "I have four memories within me, four memories that I try to suppress at times." Here, he paces slowly about the room as he gives some kind of monologue of sorts.
"My thoughts and actions are sometimes molded by these memories, but is it really weird to wonder what someone might want when they come knocking on your door?" He pauses in his steps, attentioned turned back on her, "I'll always assume that if someone comes here, they have information to impart, or a concern to bring up, or they want to see if I want something to eat or drink and things of that nature. I guess, if I wanted conversation, I'd step outside. So I was curious if your visit today was any of what I'd already mentioned, though I don't mind being kept company."
Those notes, once they are brought up, he looks to them on his desk. "It reminds me of what I need to do and when I should be doing it. I thought we'd go back to the Wellson life first and foremost but Nettie wants to return to Prosperity for a time. I'm not sure if you're interested in joining up or not. Something about a train robbery..." He takes another sip from his glass.
The Caregiver looks at the Capitalist for a long moment and she looks like it's taking a lot to keep the expression mostly neutral instead of gutted all of a sudden. After looking at the remnants of her drink, she nods again, drops her hand from neck and shoulder, then rises up to go put her emptied glass down on the minibar, voice quiet, "I know what you've had for lives. And I've been respecting that, immensely, even planning and acting accordingly for it when faced with certain things. You may not have been able to tell me you loved me as Christian and maybe Cillian was just my cousin and we weren't as close as I imagined we were when I was just Eilis. And I'm not asking you to love me now."
She stands there a moment, looking like she's going to pour herself a refill, voice quiet as she carries on with her eyes on the bar and profile turned to the man, "But I am going to ask you to quietly respect the fact that even though my two lives seem paltry to you, there's still an epic battle inside this time and I... awoke with the memories of lying in your blood for eight to ten hours trying to protect your body from monsters while I looked at you here in front of me. I have memories of aching, living alone with the reminders of you everywhere and night terrors. So I..."
"I'm trying real hard to give you space and the right responses. But with Pierce not even being able to open his door and look at me, with the scent of my babies gone, with you just... slipping away, now, suddenly, after spending... I--" She blinks back tears and blows out a puff of air over her lips before turning to pace back over to wiggle her feet back into her heels, "This is my fault. Excuse me."
The more he listens to the Caregiver, the more that he feels like he's heard some of this before or was told something similar in a time before the Lodge. The Capitalist waits for a point to speak up, though even know he's both confused and a little annoyed by what he's being told. "I know that it must have been more than just a little difficult for you after Christian's death, but you've said so many times before that you are neither Laine nor Eilis and it almost looked like you wanted to put that life behind you. Then we go on that date and then it seems like you want something more and I just wanted you to be sure of what you were asking for."
There's a slight narrowing of his eyes and he quickly finishes off his drink, but as she's already at the bar, he waits a moment before going to refill his own glass. "I heard something similar before. You'd said that Nettie had felt the same way, the last time we were here. That she felt like I was slipping away and I honestly don't know what any of you want from me." A pause, "I'd asked her once, who she'd like to be and her response was 'Do we have to choose?'. It would help! And I wasn't ignoring her then either, though my own feelings were conflicted and with Maata gone, my mind was in a darker place."
Noticing that rather than continue on with her explanation, she choose to take flight instead, he reaches out for her arm with his free hand to prevent her from doing just that. "Just tell me what you want from me. I can't read your fucking minds." He then mutters, "This is the problem with women...Unbelievable." It really does look like this inability for both Penitent and Caregiver to just say what needs to be said and explain things to him so that he can understand has grated on his nerves when they think /he's/ the one withdrawing from anything. "You've got my attention. I'm all ears."
"It's not that I'm neither, I'm both and more. And so very much Laine in the bones with feelings and memories at the same time. Just like you're all and more. It's not something there's even words for, not something to pet name like the others or..." The Caregiver huffs out a breath as her arm is caught and that touch alone looks like it makes her want to go at him for something that isn't quite an argument so much as an attack of the violent lustful variety. She rolls her eyes suddenly, as much at herself as exasperation, muttering, "Goddamnit, I don't trust myself to do this... On our date, I talked too much, I wanted our bodies to tell us what was right because sometimes there aren't words or thoughts. I wanted our bodies to tell us everything we needed to know."
"But fine. I'm going to stare at you and tell you everything I want while staring at you so whatever comes out, you asked for it." Her brows knit stubbornly before a hand downright drops to her hip in sass fashion, looking up at him, "I told you what I felt at -length-. I've told you how much passion and love stays with me. I've went out of my way to know you in this place, not feeling it was fair to show you Paris and make you feel snared in Christian, to learn and expose myself to the Driscoll life you've had, hell I come knocking just to share your air. I still desperately want to fuck you. I want to lie with you. I want to fall asleep with you and take care of you while you plan and rub your shoulders and challenge you. Because you need to be challenged as much as you need someone that believes in you and hangs on every word between. And whatever that turns into or doesn't turn into because of the sheer fuckery we're in, I'll at least know I tried, that we tried to keep something that was stolen by whatever is causing it. And even if it's wrong in the end, it'll still be worth it."
She's not ranting, precisely, but there's sheer intensity in the quiet rapidfire of her words up to him to match her eyes, "I want to tell you secrets I've been keeping because I didn't want you to worry about me or feel like you had to save me. Because I'm ashamed. But when you're standing here treating me differently than you've ever really treated me in here, I'm terrified to do that and hear what comes out. And I want to yell at you that if the Christian in your bones heard me tell him I was going on a cattle drive with Pierce, my husband, knowing what those doors can do, who was Mikey, by the by, well he'd be a little triggered to boot."
Then she just kind of breathes quick and heavy. He did ask for it.
Once he's captured her in his grasp, there's a firm, but not painful, squeeze at her arm and only once she agrees to stay and speak her mind does he actually fully release her. Instead of treading forward to refill his glass, he gives her his full attention, being able to show her the respect she deserves.
He doesn't mind the staring at all, his gaze meeting hers head on, but not in a confrontational way. Or not entirely. Some of what is said does pique his interest and resonates somewhat within him. "You've known me in two different... stories and have engaged with me here twice. Well, one a half times as we've yet to jump into another lifetime. You know just what kind of man I am and I've told you much of what I've gone through here."
He then quickly says, finally moving to the bar to refill his glass, speaking out just as he does this, "And yes, it wasn't fair of me to question your motives or intentions when coming here. I just... thinks don't happen in a natural way here that they do in our lifetimes. There, we are living our lives with no other memories. Here, there's a lot of baggage weighing us down." The bottle is set down, but he doesn't reach for his glass just yet, just staring off of through the cabinet itself, though more contemplating things on his mind, "We don't know if we're being observed, but I'm sure that we are. We don't know where we are, so we're always on edge. Some of us anyway." He turns to face her, that glass still untouched. "Why do you think I'm treating you differently than I've ever done before? From the complaints I get regarding Nettie, this isn't a new thing."
"For one, you missed a perfectly good dirty innuendo and joke. And for two, that might have been the weirdest hug I've ever gotten from you when I come at you determined to make some light out of a shit day and situation. For three, I... rarely have had to explain myself like this to you. Every other time since waking, even in the space station to a degree, you're usually just... good at me." The Caregiver slides her hand off of her hip and breathes out another puff of air, but this one is more steadying than a huff over her lips while listening to the Capitalist make reply to all that coming out of her on the fly. Head shaking a little, it's her turn to fool around with refilling her previously drained glass.
And really, the longer she goes on, it's clear that she's not exactly lambasting him about it. He asked and she's slowing down to really feel and consider and tell him honestly, because she feels like he also may be genuinely curious as much as she's contemplating it herself, now, "It's like you're not as intuitive or something, and too much logic. Like you've slammed some kind of block in place to get things done. Which I understand to a degree, but... I mean, think of all the things I just -said- to you and... your response is... almost cold and rationalizing." A pause, "And the hell of the matter is, I was around you in the station with you thinking you were Driscoll entirely, more often than not, and he was still a little better at handling me."
She frowns a little and looks at the floor while her toes curl with dig, hand on the refilled glass instead of picking it up, "Which is why I asked if I did something wrong. Because when I remember our last real interaction prior to the space station, as shameful as it was to be turned down, it still was... incredibly intimate. This in comparison without the doors to blame? Mm."
Does the Capitalist look like someone who makes jokes often? Didn't think so! Though the mention of the hug just makes him blink and here he partially turns to scoop up his glass to drink, lifting it to his lips, but pauses to say, "I didn't expect to be judged on my hugs. I'll keep that in mind." Now he takes that drink.
Licking at his whiskey tainted lips, he has to grin at what's now said, "That's who I am. And I wouldn't say that I'm not intuitive, I read people easily enough, but I do prefer them to stop playing coy. And I wonder how people actually expect others to respond to their histrionics. Maybe I'm not as emotional a person as you think I am." His shoulders shrug as he goes for another drink, "It's probably why Laine and Christian got into the arguments they did."
"If you want me to baby you, I'll do it, when I'm in the mood, but it seems like you want to be pampered -all the time-." Though her mentioning Driscoll brings that grind out even more, "That's Driscoll's public face. You've never met the Driscoll in here when he'd awoken." The grin then fades, "Nettie believes that's who I am sometimes, but in truth, maybe this is just who I am period."
The Caregiver is dead silent after all the color blanches from her face the longer the Capitalist speaks and her fingers grip around the glass. After draining it abruptly, she stiffly puts it down and looks at a distant point on the wall before turning to go for her shoes. She doesn't bother pausing to get into them this time, she leans to pick them up in sweep while moving.
"... I didn't come in here wanting anything from you except to be around you. And I got... this. You asked me what I wanted, I told you. Now I'm being punished for it. I guess what I really wanted was Christian or whatever strings of him in hybrid were left until they weren't there anymore for whatever reason. I'm glad I asked to kiss him goodbye."
When she speaks, her voice is almost delicate in brand of quiet, like she's afraid to disturb her breath too much while speaking and going for egress, "And you know, maybe I'm maybe a lot of things this time around. But you have a bad tendency to ask questions when you don't really want the answers. Christian would tell me I don't deserve this. But as you were so keen to remind me, he's dead, and nothing is bringing him back. You're off the hook. I'll see you, lovely."
"You call this punishment?" The Capitalist says with a roll of his eyes and he steps off and away from the bar. "As I'm trying to get to know /you/, I'm being truthful with how I see it. And I have no regrets for asking the questions that I do. It gives me a far bigger picture of who you are, but if you're insulted by my assessment..."
No, he's not going to apologize for her being upset, whether it was his intention or not. Sometimes people need to be told the truth. "Christian says a lot of things to get what he wants." But so does the Capitalist and many of his incarnations. "And as /I'm/ Christian, that he's a part of me," This, is said with much emphasis, but rather than continue on in this vein and perhaps not caring to upset her further, he declines to say more about what Christian would think.
And, he's not going to stop her this time if she wants to go, not being that sort of man. He's done it once already. "Believe me, Christian is still a big part of me as are the others." A pause, "I'll be available if you're actually willing to talk without storming out."
The Caregiver doesn't say anything. She just leaves carrying her shoes, determined to close the door just as swift and gentle as she steps out.