If you were faced with Him in all His glory

What would you ask if you had just one question?


Previous Entry Share
IC contact: Sirenspull
- your calls are bad news
paterelohim
Uh, hi! This is Ca- I mean Chuck Shurley, just- Chuck, sorry. [Indistinct fumbling noises] Leave a message after the beep and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks?

  • 1
[It takes him a few minutes to untangle himself from the wires on his desk and pad out to the front door. His hair is curled from being mused by his hands, his left eye still unnaturally blue due to the subconjunctival hemorrhage.]

Evening Chuck.

[Chuck blinks at his appearance, but holds up the paper with a Look.]

Dude. I don't trash friendships because of one bitch fight.

[He looked worse yesterday.]

You'd be surprised how many people do.

[Thoughtfully:]

Yeah, well... fuck 'em. I'm not exactly most people.

[Evenly, honestly.]

You do realize unless the Core keeps us both here for more than a decade, I'm not going to believe that right?

[Not for lack of wanting to. But he just. Can't. Take the risk.]

[And that's what makes Chuck settle back on his heels, starting to visibly close down again.]

Yep. Eeeven if I prove it.

[It's sadly really not personal.]

Everyone says that. My wife said that.

[People with PTSD aren't great at maintaining friendships either. He's trying, really. But. The other shoe has to drop at some point, doesn't it?]

You look like I should feed you.

[His wife. She sounds like a saint. Chuck glances down at himself, blinking distantly.]

Uh- yeah, I don't know. I guess I haven't really eaten today.

[He won't admit it, can't, because he gave so much to Magda, to have it spit in his face, but their marriage was doomed. And he just has never really been able to completely trust anyone since. Magda created Magneto just as much as the Holocaust did.]

Come in then. I have a chronic problem of overfilling my refrigerator.

[Tired nod.] Okay.

[He walks in, noticing the kittens without his usual smile- just a blank sip of the coffee.]

[He steers Chuck into a chair, Yali and Schrödinger trying to run after but bumping into each other and getting into a tussle match.]

Drink your coffee, I'll heat up some food.

[He lets himself be steered and sits down numbly, slowly relaxing into it.]

Okay. Sure.

[Obedient sip. The kittens eventually make their way over, and one starts climbing up his leg. His pants are corduroy, so he doesn't really feel it, but greets Yali silently once he's in his lap by letting the kitten sniff his finger. Yali headbutting his hand actually gets him to crack a smile, and by the time Magneto comes back Yali will be on his back in Chuck's lap, stretched out and purring loudly.]

[He walks back in with a plate of roast beef, a ton of vegetables, couscous, and a bowl of cranberry & pecan croissant bread pudding.]

Kitten therapy cures all ills, for a little while.

Yeah. [Softly, still gazing raptly at Yali. After a moment he tears his gaze away, eyes... widening at everything Erik's carrying.]

Wow. You weren't kidding about feeding me.

No, I wasn't. What do you want to drink?

[He puts the plate on a TV tray, so Chuck can keep Yali in his lap.]

[He pulls the tray closer with one hand and keeps petting Yali.]

Well, the coffee's good, for now. It's actually awesome.

[Because maple. Seriously. The Canadians are geniuses, he's pretty sure. Chuck starts a little when Yali takes issue with something he's doing and scratches at his wrist, but his gaze lingers on the kitten long after Yali has moved on.]

I love cats. [Of all sizes.]

I can make you more, when you want it.

[He follows the kittens with his eyes.}

So do I.

Cool, thanks.

[Taking a slow, contemplative sip.]

Damn. [Softly.] I practically needed Midol yesterday.

Welcome.

[Snort]

Jubilee has a drum in her living room. If you ever feels the need for some again

[Snort. Congrats, you broke through the lineface wall!]

Thanks. You're a pal.

Sometimes.

[Small grin.]

I don't handle grief well either.

[Rubbing his face with one hand.]

Most people don't, at first. 'Specially when the guy who broke your legs is trying to play the victim at you.

[Okay, there's some definite... twisting of how it happened in that right there. Or mostly just projection, since Chuck is 100% sure that Lucifer feels like the victim, and is making himself out to be to whoever will goddamn listen, and is probably princess-pissed that Chuck didn't sit down and listen to his feelings and bake him cookies.]

[Or feed him booze and pain pills like he did.]

If I say something you probably really don't want to hear, do you promise not to storm out?

[That is not fear you hear in his voice, Chuck, you must be mishearing.]

[.....Oh, awesome. Super. No, he's really pumped to hear whatever this is.]

That... depends. [Long-suffering sigh.] Would saying it be a dick move?

[He has a fear of abandonment, ok? A JUSTIFIED fear.]

Um.

[His mouth quirks, part amusement, part nervous laughter.]

I don't think so. But. Consider the source?

  • 1
?

Log in

No account? Create an account