ellectrical | (no subject)

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Elle is curled up into one side of the couch, head leaned against the arm, sparks snapping around her neck. Farrah, who has chosen to settle on her stomach, is watching the sparks crackle, head moving back and forth very slightly as the electricity flares and flashes on her skin.

Fortunately, she hasn't resorted to batting her paw at them.

That probably wouldn't be pleasant for anyone.

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"I don't think he says what he means. To me."

Beat. "Sometimes."

"Oh."

X considers that for a few seconds.

Then --

"He pretends a lot. At home. Because people are always watching."

She does not shrug.

"I think he forgets. Sometimes. That he does not have to pretend in Milliways."

Beat.

"Most of the time."

This pause is longer.

"You are okay?"

"I can't talk to him."

Beat. "If he's pretending. Or I don't know. And I'm not."

"I will tell him," X says, then hesitates.

"If that is okay."

If Elle does not mind.

Elle's not sure what the protocol is here, as she's never had a social circle big enough to cause this kind of thing.

So she answers, "I don't know if you have to."

"I think it will be less confusing."

But X's opinions may be suspect.

She is not exactly a social mastermind, either.

"Okay."

She doesn't have any other reason to protest it. After a pause, the sparks move to her neck again, and Elle sits up, slightly shifting Farrah to her lap. The cat takes interest in the sparks again, but doesn't complain.

"I'm glad he doesn't pretend with you."

"Yes," X says, very simply.

"I am glad, too."

Otherwise they would not be who they are. Or maybe how they are is more accurate.

And this, of course, is the moment that Steve McQueen chooses to make his belated -- and very energetic -- entrance.

X's midsection will never be the same.

Otherwise Elle might not see this as she does now: completely not her business.

"Are you okay?"

Maybe it's not just about the cat.

X repositions Steve McQueen in a way that is more comfortable for both of them, then looks up at Elle.

She considers her question for a few long moments, then nods.

Carefully.

"Yes. I am."

Beat.

"Even when it is not quiet."

"It's not quiet?" she asks, slightly pressing down on Farrah's back, as she looks close to batting her paw at Elle's neck again.

X takes a careful breath.

"More people have found the Facility's research. It is problematic."

So, in a way, it's same old, same old.

Just like always.

"What do they do with it?"

"Sometimes they attempt cloning. Or behavioral conditioning."

Like with X's trigger scent, which she is definitely not talking about.

"They always want to make more weapons. Even if they do not want those weapons to be people."

Elle's silent for a moment, mostly because the question forming in her mind is one that sounds weird no matter how she shapes it.

"Do they want to - fight someone?"

"I think they want to be paid," X offers, after a moment.

"To fight everyone."

A lot of supervillains are like that, too.

It is problematic.

After a beat -

"They could learn to fight."

"They do not want to get hurt," X says, a little flat.

"Or killed."

It is stupid.

"... you killed some of them."

Shouldn't this be a cautionary tale?

"They think better weapons will protect them."

Maybe eventually they will learn.

(All signs point to no.)

The sparks crackle to her shoulder, and she glances down at them.

"I don't - think about it like that."

"About what they do? Or what people like them do."

She tilts her head, studying Elle carefully.

X also takes this time to scratch between Steve's ears.

It -- is nice.

"About weapons."

Beat.

"I don't think they protect me."

X blinks, eyes gone wide.

"You protect you."

Obviously.

"And I do not want you to die."

That is probably not what Elle meant. But --

Elle doesn't look at X.

"Sometimes you need weapons," she answers, slowly.

"But I don't think having them protects you."