[Max turns toward him when they slow to a stop, still holding on to his shoulder to help keep herself upright. She looks at his arm as he does, frowning. The mark is strange, and she doesn't really have any proof that it's the cause of his hallucinations (for all she knows, he just hallucinates on the regular), but she does suspect it.]
Weird...
[She nods when he asks to see hers, hesitates for a moment, thinking of how they can both stand in order for him to see it and also help keep her standing. She shifts as well as she can to put her back to him, sliding her hand from his shoulder down to his arm and putting it around her waist again, this time around her front instead of behind her. Her hair is pretty short, but she tilts her head to the side to try and keep it off her neck anyway, so he can see. (She feels a little like the willing victim in a vampire movie offering up her neck for a bite.) Her own mark (₪) is pretty clear there, but it's not exactly the same as Jamie's.]
Jamie doesn't protest verbally at the way Max is positioning herself but inside he's losing his shit. Touching girls people scares him, and even though this is all to keep Max upright with her injured leg, it still feels painfully intimate, much more so than it did with the two of them side-by-side while he was still half-convinced Max was another hallucination. He tenses up behind her and his grip around her waist tightens; he tries to conceal the trembling in his hands and voice but doesn't entirely succeed.]
U-um...okay, let's, uh, l-lemme see...
[His touch is excruciatingly delicate as he brushes a few strands of hair away from the mark on her neck, and he holds his breath, partially because he's nervous but also because he doesn't want to be panting all over her like some kind of creep. He momentarily forgets his anxiety as he observes the strange mark, way too elaborate for a simple bug bite and different from the one on his arm.]
You've got one, too. A mark, I mean. Not the same as the one I've got, but.
[He doesn't make any real move to disengage, for fear of offending this perfectly nice, very real girl he's been shuffling along with for the past little while. He just goes very still behind her, save the minute tremors in the arm around her waist.]
So - what do you think it means? The marks. And the...everything else. [He gestures fitfully with his free arm.]
[It's kind of bad that the first feeling that comes to Max in response to his clear unease with their position is amusement. But every other guy she knows would probably be flirting with her or making a dumb joke. She's not really used to guys being uncomfortable with a girl so close to them. So the amusement honestly is born from amazement, and.... Relief? It's refreshing, that he's not doing either of those things every Blackwell boy seemed to like doing. (Yeah but they're dead now anyway, Max, she thinks with a clench of guilt, but it's beside the point.) Anyway, it's probably a good thing he was behind her and couldn't see that amusement flash across her face for a second there.
To be fair, she also just feels bad because she's the one causing him distress. She didn't mean to do that. But then again she never means to do the things she does that end up hurting people... Jesus, please don't let this guy end up dying too. It's funny how that thought immediately makes her feel kind of protective of him.
The whisper of his touch, so feather-light over the back of her neck, over sensitive skin, feels almost more intimate than if he'd just... brushed her hair away normally.
Aaaand now her ears are probably turning red. Fuck.
But the marks.]
I'm... I'm not really sure. When I first woke up, I thought that... maybe this was some sort of afterlife...?
[In which case, the guy would already be dead, dummy. Right. But still. Obviously, they can still feel things. And this? The closeness? Would feel really nice if she wasn't so worried she was stressing him out. She should probably let him know he can move away now if he wants to.
...Yup.
...Any second now.
...
...
...
Or she could just remain completely silent on that front, that works too.]
[He frowns dubiously, which she can't see, but it probably carries through into his voice anyway. He considers it for a moment. Being dead would explain a lot of the weird shit he's seen, actually.]
It's...as likely as anything else, I guess. I mean, bug-bite tattoos and wandering alone forever doesn't sound like any afterlife I've ever heard of, but I guess there's a lot of different ones out there, probably.
[He...does not sound terribly disturbed at the notion of being dead. The idea doesn't bother him as much as it probably should, if he's being honest. He'd been expecting it for a while now and, if it's actually true, all he really feels is a sort of "well, that's that" sense of resignation.
This girl, though.]
What - um. Why do you think it's an. An afterlife? What were you - I mean, you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but - what's the last thing you remember before you got here?
[He's...not commenting on the fact that the girl hasn't moved away from him. Maybe she likes it. Maybe she needs it, if she thinks she's dead. And if that's the case, who is Jamie to begrudge someone that measure of comfort?]
[Honestly, it's also just easier to have this conversation this way. Without having to look someone in the eyes or even face to face. And there is, admittedly, comfort in it. She could pretend he was someone she knew, if she wanted. Even someone... she loved. She banishes the thought pretty quickly; it just added to her guilt.]
I'm pretty sure I've heard the wandering alone forever thing before. With the dark sky, and the sand... Uhm, it may have been in a fantasy book, though.
[She reaches a hand up to touch the back of her neck then, trying to feel for the mark. It does occur to her that... This guy's reaction to the idea of being dead wasn't what she'd been expecting. He's kind of weirdly accepting of it. Maybe that's why she feels she can tell him this, though.]
We were on the road. In Chloe's truck. She was driving. We'd just... Left the town... What was left of it... I wasn't-- I felt.. guilty. Shit, I still feel guilty. But I'm not... I don't really regret it? I'd make the same choice again, if I had to. Maybe that makes me a terrible person. Maybe that's why I'm here. I thought... "This is why I'll have to wander here alone forever..."
[It's... Not a very clear explanation, but she's kind of just talking to the air in front of her, her voice thick with emotion the further she gets into her story. She hasn't even told this guy her name. She doesn't really know what she's doing, but it still feels good to let all of that out. To maybe let it go, if she can.]
this isn't as good as the tag that got eaten but HHHHHHH
[For his part, Jamie just...listens. Recoils briefly when she reaches up toward the back of her neck and it looks like she might come close to touching him by accident, but otherwise remains still, silent, and passive, mulling over what she's trying to tell him.
A destroyed town...did she escape a disaster? That would be enough to make most people feel guilty. But then she mentions choices and regret and it's enough to make Jamie wonder.
Maybe she was the disaster.
Absently he chews the corner of his lip as he thinks this over, wondering what it means, who she is, what she's been through. What she did. Maybe it was deliberate, and awful - she doesn't strike him as the mass-murderer type, but then again, most mass murderers don't. Or maybe it was a terrible accident.
(Or possibly it was something in between: emotion denied until it simply wouldn't be any longer, vented in the most destructive way imaginable. You know how that feels, Pilot.)
Whatever the girl's history, he probably isn't really one to judge. It might not mean anything at all, anyway. Life was full of difficult decisions and people were, as a rule, excellent at finding ways to feel guilty for all of them.
He exhales lightly through his nose, breath no doubt tickling her neck. Are they really dead if they're still warm and breathing?...]
Well, I mean...even if we are both dead, we're...here. Wherever this is. So all we can do is keep going, I guess.
[Pause. She's getting emotional, which makes him uncomfortable, because he really has no idea how to deal with that sort of thing.] And, y'know. You found me, so there's probably other people around here somewhere. So you're not totally alone.
[Super helpful and very comforting, surely. Also they're still kind-of hugging, probably because they're both too awkward to disengage.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
for poorlycopingstrategist
[Max turns toward him when they slow to a stop, still holding on to his shoulder to help keep herself upright. She looks at his arm as he does, frowning. The mark is strange, and she doesn't really have any proof that it's the cause of his hallucinations (for all she knows, he just hallucinates on the regular), but she does suspect it.]
Weird...
[She nods when he asks to see hers, hesitates for a moment, thinking of how they can both stand in order for him to see it and also help keep her standing. She shifts as well as she can to put her back to him, sliding her hand from his shoulder down to his arm and putting it around her waist again, this time around her front instead of behind her. Her hair is pretty short, but she tilts her head to the side to try and keep it off her neck anyway, so he can see. (She feels a little like the willing victim in a vampire movie offering up her neck for a bite.) Her own mark (₪) is pretty clear there, but it's not exactly the same as Jamie's.]
please enjoy this trainwreck child
Jamie doesn't protest verbally at the way Max is positioning herself but inside he's losing his shit. Touching
girlspeople scares him, and even though this is all to keep Max upright with her injured leg, it still feels painfully intimate, much more so than it did with the two of them side-by-side while he was still half-convinced Max was another hallucination. He tenses up behind her and his grip around her waist tightens; he tries to conceal the trembling in his hands and voice but doesn't entirely succeed.]U-um...okay, let's, uh, l-lemme see...
[His touch is excruciatingly delicate as he brushes a few strands of hair away from the mark on her neck, and he holds his breath, partially because he's nervous but also because he doesn't want to be panting all over her like some kind of creep. He momentarily forgets his anxiety as he observes the strange mark, way too elaborate for a simple bug bite and different from the one on his arm.]
You've got one, too. A mark, I mean. Not the same as the one I've got, but.
[He doesn't make any real move to disengage, for fear of offending this perfectly nice, very real girl he's been shuffling along with for the past little while. He just goes very still behind her, save the minute tremors in the arm around her waist.]
So - what do you think it means? The marks. And the...everything else. [He gestures fitfully with his free arm.]
high-five for traumatized teens
To be fair, she also just feels bad because she's the one causing him distress. She didn't mean to do that. But then again she never means to do the things she does that end up hurting people... Jesus, please don't let this guy end up dying too. It's funny how that thought immediately makes her feel kind of protective of him.
The whisper of his touch, so feather-light over the back of her neck, over sensitive skin, feels almost more intimate than if he'd just... brushed her hair away normally.
Aaaand now her ears are probably turning red. Fuck.
But the marks.]
I'm... I'm not really sure. When I first woke up, I thought that... maybe this was some sort of afterlife...?
[In which case, the guy would already be dead, dummy. Right. But still. Obviously, they can still feel things. And this? The closeness? Would feel really nice if she wasn't so worried she was stressing him out. She should probably let him know he can move away now if he wants to.
...Yup.
...Any second now.
...
...
...
Or she could just remain completely silent on that front, that works too.]
a good time will be had by all
[He frowns dubiously, which she can't see, but it probably carries through into his voice anyway. He considers it for a moment. Being dead would explain a lot of the weird shit he's seen, actually.]
It's...as likely as anything else, I guess. I mean, bug-bite tattoos and wandering alone forever doesn't sound like any afterlife I've ever heard of, but I guess there's a lot of different ones out there, probably.
[He...does not sound terribly disturbed at the notion of being dead. The idea doesn't bother him as much as it probably should, if he's being honest. He'd been expecting it for a while now and, if it's actually true, all he really feels is a sort of "well, that's that" sense of resignation.
This girl, though.]
What - um. Why do you think it's an. An afterlife? What were you - I mean, you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but - what's the last thing you remember before you got here?
[He's...not commenting on the fact that the girl hasn't moved away from him. Maybe she likes it. Maybe she needs it, if she thinks she's dead. And if that's the case, who is Jamie to begrudge someone that measure of comfort?]
no subject
I'm pretty sure I've heard the wandering alone forever thing before. With the dark sky, and the sand... Uhm, it may have been in a fantasy book, though.
[She reaches a hand up to touch the back of her neck then, trying to feel for the mark. It does occur to her that... This guy's reaction to the idea of being dead wasn't what she'd been expecting. He's kind of weirdly accepting of it. Maybe that's why she feels she can tell him this, though.]
We were on the road. In Chloe's truck. She was driving. We'd just... Left the town... What was left of it... I wasn't-- I felt.. guilty. Shit, I still feel guilty. But I'm not... I don't really regret it? I'd make the same choice again, if I had to. Maybe that makes me a terrible person. Maybe that's why I'm here. I thought... "This is why I'll have to wander here alone forever..."
[It's... Not a very clear explanation, but she's kind of just talking to the air in front of her, her voice thick with emotion the further she gets into her story. She hasn't even told this guy her name. She doesn't really know what she's doing, but it still feels good to let all of that out. To maybe let it go, if she can.]
this isn't as good as the tag that got eaten but HHHHHHH
A destroyed town...did she escape a disaster? That would be enough to make most people feel guilty. But then she mentions choices and regret and it's enough to make Jamie wonder.
Maybe she was the disaster.
Absently he chews the corner of his lip as he thinks this over, wondering what it means, who she is, what she's been through. What she did. Maybe it was deliberate, and awful - she doesn't strike him as the mass-murderer type, but then again, most mass murderers don't. Or maybe it was a terrible accident.
(Or possibly it was something in between: emotion denied until it simply wouldn't be any longer, vented in the most destructive way imaginable. You know how that feels, Pilot.)
Whatever the girl's history, he probably isn't really one to judge. It might not mean anything at all, anyway. Life was full of difficult decisions and people were, as a rule, excellent at finding ways to feel guilty for all of them.
He exhales lightly through his nose, breath no doubt tickling her neck. Are they really dead if they're still warm and breathing?...]
Well, I mean...even if we are both dead, we're...here. Wherever this is. So all we can do is keep going, I guess.
[Pause. She's getting emotional, which makes him uncomfortable, because he really has no idea how to deal with that sort of thing.] And, y'know. You found me, so there's probably other people around here somewhere. So you're not totally alone.
[Super helpful and very comforting, surely. Also they're still kind-of hugging, probably because they're both too awkward to disengage.]