011 ☣ sleepover!

[fridgetothefire]

Private text to Ben, later at night after this post:

hy can i crash at your plcae tonite

i dont wanna go back to mine



[Private to Alex, the next morning]

i have a gigantic hangover

bring me breakfast u owe me

Comments

private/text

[tolaywaste]

Okay. What do you want?

private/text

[fridgetothefire]

food?? and juice

maybe dry cereal from th dining hall

no wait thats crunchy

what is good for hangovers idk

private/text

[tolaywaste]

Eggs???

Juice i can do.

private/text

[fridgetothefire]

eggs yes good

i miss chickens

private/text

[tolaywaste]

I'm. Not bringing you a chicken.

private/text

[fridgetothefire]

no just eggs is good fried plz

cant take crowing rn

private/text

[tolaywaste]

I'll try to remember not to crow at you.

Give me half an hour.

private/text

[fridgetothefire]

k thanks

oh im in ben's room btw so go there

3-06

spam!!

[tolaywaste]

[ . . . Yeah, Alex has less than nothing to say to this. Ben's room? Why? How? Okay. But he makes Anya her eggs and grabs her juice and heads to Ben's room, knocking lightly on the door (to forgive her hangover).]

spam!!

[fridgetothefire]

[She makes a garbled, grumbly noise to let him know that's she's heard, and eventually lurches her way off the bed and toward the door. Her clothes are slept-in rumpled, her hair is a mess, and she still smells a bit like vodka.]

Blurgh. Thanks.

spam!!

[tolaywaste]

Jesus. What happened?

[Sorry, Anya, he's all out of tact.]

And where's Ben?

spam!!

[fridgetothefire]

Uh, yesterday was awful so I went on a vodka quest.

[Like duh, Alex. You were there, there was a lot of horrible flying around yesterday.]

He's...somewhere. Crashing with his warden, I think.

spam!!

[tolaywaste]

How much of a vodka quest?

[Are we talking shots or bottles here B[ Also, strange sense of relief occurs.]

So he just let you stay here?

[ Private : Text ]

[warisart]

[Ben takes a minute to respond, staring blankly at the words on the screen. He's communicated with her before, she's perfectly literate, so the errors are somewhat concerning along with what he witnessed on the network.

Then he realizes what must be going on. He'd already known his answer but he doesn't need to understand the rest.]

Yes. Cabin 6 on level 3.

Do you require assistance to reach it safely?

[ Private : Text ]

[fridgetothefire]

u r a hero thanks

yes im ok i can walk

be there in a bit

[ Spam ]

[warisart]

[Ben knows even less what to do with the first part of that, but marks the time and sets a mental timer for how long he'll wait for her to show up before he goes looking. Something is wrong, and he doesn't intend to leave her to face it by herself indefinitely.

He leaves the door open, sitting stiffly and absolutely still on the edge of the military-style metal bunk while he watches for her.]

[ Spam ]

[fridgetothefire]

[She's not stumbling, but she keeps a hand trailing along the wall, picks her steps deliberately and slower than usual. She looks only mildly frazzled, hasn't been crying, and smells like vodka. She pauses in the doorway, sways a little.]

Sure you really don' mind?

[ Spam ]

[warisart]

[She's not stumbling but he can smell it on her, would be able to even if it were fainter; he stands and moves to meet her, bright brown eyes scanning for any overt sign of anything wrong with her, anything he could solve with his triage training or by redirecting her to the Infirmary.

Nothing tangible. His chances of being able to help just decreased significantly, but he bites the inside of his cheek to keep his expression neutral.]

I'm certain. Please, come in. You are partially inebriated. [The cabin is small, containing only a bed with plain navy blue blankets, a simple dresser, and several stacks of books and CDs. There's a packed away chess set on top of the dresser.]

[ Spam ]

[fridgetothefire]

I'm very inebrated. Mostly. Yes.

[She smiles a little to see him, and at the simplicity of the room: essentials, books, music. It's comforting. She sits on the bed and then immediately flops back onto it, feet still on the floor.]

Uhg. What a day. What a year.

[ Spam ]

[warisart]

[There's no place else to sit, of course, but Ben wouldn't anyway. He paces first one way and then th eother over the empty space between the bed and the dresser, not quite frowning and not quite agitated, not overtly.]

What has happened?

[ Spam ]

[fridgetothefire]

[She watches him move back and forth, like a cat or a tennis fan, touches her tongue to her outer lip, fumbling for how to explain any of it.]

Remember when I said I killed my king?

[ Spam ]

[warisart]

[He ends up stopping somewhere to one side of the dresser, not blocking the door which is, in fact, deliberate. Ben settles to loose attention, except for how his head is cocked slightly to one side, regarding her intently.]

I do.

[ Spam ]

[fridgetothefire]

[She stares down at her hands, forces the words out, stumbling on them.]

He's here.

Not him. He's too young, his hair's wrong, he doesn't hate me. He doesn't know me. But it's still him.

[ Spam ]

[warisart]

[Ben is never very expressive, not as easily identifiable as most, but what little that does come through is almost always significant. Now his entire face seems to sharpen and close, eyes narrowing.

There's never any mistaking that he was raised by the military, but times like this it's much easier to see without trying what their original intent was for him. And all transgenics.]

Has he attempted to harm you?

[ Spam ]

[fridgetothefire]

[She shakes her head, her hands gripping each other tightly so they don't shake.]

He was. Kind to me, when I was in zero. I think he thinks he cares. But he's so angry now. His room is next to mine and I could hear him destroying things. He has the same abilities and he's so angry. It makes sense why but I can't. I can't be there.