nexus_sages | (no subject)

Well, time would tell whether or not she'd want to come for a visit at some point and whether or not she'd like it there. He had a momentary thought about the stupidity of his invitation, but it was just a natural thing to do that it came out before he could consider anything further on the matter. Not that they talked business at the table, that wasn't it. You know, just in the event that she was by his side when someone nasty came around with a problem.

Anyway, a matter to think about later if she even took up the offer. For now, he was content enough here and felt a pang of pride getting her out from that prim and proper stance she'd been in.

"What a hard life," he commented with his smile hidden behind the glass that he'd rose to his lips.

A sip, and Nash considered. Well, that was true. Seemed like children were lied to the most 'for the better'. Worst time to lie to people, really. Raise your child in a world that didn't really exist. How did that benefit them? Still, he could imagine how much of a pain in the ass that would make a child and it caused him to laugh a little. "Didn't she learn at some point?"

He was not unaware of her stare, but he was also not uncofortable with it. Nash wasn't completely vain, but he didn't suffer from low self esteem or anything of the like. Most of the Thompsons were well cut. Handsome men, pretty girls. His sister, like his mother, had red hair and tanned freckled skin. A tough women that wasn't afraid of the dirt, or giving a hefty backhand to someone that deserved it. Proud of herself, and far from a damsel in distress.

Nash's eyes returned back to Verity, "and what's it you wanna be doin'?"

He might be pleasantly surprised by how much work she's put into not being the damsel in distress. She's not a born fighter; she doesn't have the warrior instinct. But she's stepped up to a god to protect a friend. She can handle whatever jerks bother him. (She did nothing to even slow the Odinson down, but she tried. That's the important part, right?)

Proud of himself, is he? That's fair. Hope he can handle what he's gotten himself into. Even better if he can enjoy it. She doesn't recross her legs, but she tucks both her feet up on one of the stool's rungs. It's progress.

She might not be able to see his smile, but she can hear it. Her answer is a soft hum and a lift of her eyebrows. It's such a hard life for them both, she's sure.

"Who, me or my mom? I like to think I'm a better person now. My mom still doesn't like to admit magic is real. But we're not on speaking terms right now so it's a rather moot point." Verity's not the only strange child to end up estranged from her family. The 616 was full of stranger, sadder stories than hers. It's all about perspective and desperately trying to pretend it doesn't hurt.

A whole family like him back home? That, she has to see. "Mathematics. I wanted to study the theoretical fringes of how numbers work. There's no lies out there, only mysteries. But being a university researcher or untenured junior professor wouldn't pay off all the student loans in my lifetime, so, it seemed impractical to pursue."

Not everyone was the same, and not everyone should be the same, but he'd certainly be pleased to hear that she faught for where she was right now in that journey. He on the other hand had calmed down a bit. At least when it came to matching fists in the local pub.

His eyes looked her over when she returned the playful kick and seemed to have loosened up some. Good, and with whiskey going down the way it did. Well, it was going to be a comfortable afternoon. Hopefully he didn't end up offending her any, but they'd get to that later.

"Your Ma," he confirmed, and nodded when she told him about her mother not really believing in magic.

He wasn't sure what he thought about the matter. A lot of people in his family believed in that kind of thing, but it was different. Black masic, sacrificial sort of stuff, devil worship. Demons and Angels. In the end, it was often man being as men would be: disgusting. At least that's how Nash saw it. Bad people were bad people and did bad things. Although sometimes things weren't explainable. Luckily it didn't happen too to anyone in the family.

"Mathematics?" He rolled his head away from her with an audible exhale, "well shit, what you sittin' with someone like me for?" A chuckle, "that ain't never been a specialty of mine."

All she had to do was ask, just as long as she was prepared for what would come of it. Going to the farm that was.

Maybe they can meet in the middle on the subject of violence, fighting for survival instead of pleasure, fighting to defend instead of being defenseless. It's not an altogether bad solution in an imperfect and often violent world. His or hers.

Her temper may be quick to flare, but she's easy to soothe; lasting damage to a friendship is hard to achieve with her. And she did mention she's stubborn. In other words, good luck getting rid of her.

Not believing in magic hasn't been an option in her life; fortunately, she's seen some better examples than just the black sort. Lots of people performed and used various kinds of magic around her every day where she's from, and their attempts to make people forget what they saw didn't work on her. Being immune to mental manipulation has its charms, but also a few downsides.

"I'm here for a nice talk, not a research partner. And you are very nice to talk to. Anyway, life would be boring if I only ever talked to people with my exact interests." Then she grins and kicks his stool again. "Or maybe I just think you're cute."

Good thing he knew how to handle a temper, if anything he kind of enjoyed it Depending on the situation. What can you do, right? He spun the top of the stool around so his back leaned against the bartop with his elbow keeping him up. His drink came in to his chest and fingers idly clicked the glass.

"Can't argue with that reasoning," he took a drink and sent a smile her way when she kicked his stool. "So you live here, that right?"

Edited 2015-12-14 02:01 (UTC)

A good passionate debate can be very stimulating, so long as everyone involved knows how to not take it personally and when to shut up and hug it out. She's still working on the first part, but she's quite good at the second.

He's going to teach her some very bad habits if he smiles every time she does that. "I do. I mean, it's strange. Really strange, sometimes. But once you get used to the idea that it's going to be strange, it's... well, it's still overwhelming. But once you get over that, it's pretty great. Most of the people are nice. Nicer than in New York, anyway. There's a lot of opportunities. People have been helping me learn how to deal with the curse better, I'm learning all sorts of new things, and I feel a lot more useful now. Like I'm actually helping people and not just standing in the background watching things happen."

The life of a supporting character, man. It's sad.

"I have more friends here than I ever thought possible. I have family who actually like me. Coming here was one of the best things that ever happened to me." She stops there before she delves into a massive overshare, sips her whiskey, and then looks up at him again. "So, if you're looking for redemption? You've come to the right place."

If his smile was the way to condition her into poor decision making, she was going to be rid of her proper self in no time! He watched her finish the second drink and listened to her talk about the experience she'd had here so far. Somewhere in the midst of her talking about it his smile faded, and true to his previous statement about being bad at hiding his feelings, his chin ducked down in some deeper sort of thought.

Nash still wasn't sure whether he wanted to stay in Dallas when things got set up and maybe the change of pace would jig something. He knew if he brought up moving to another line of work in the family company there wouldn't be much of a problem with it, there were others that could do what he did. His struggle was something more internal, that split between knowing what he did could sometimes be horrible and enjoying what he did.

If he stayed here, he might be able to live somewhat normally. You know, open a bar or something. Hell he could combine his skills. Seen it before, barber shop in the morning, bar next door. He'd miss his family, though, and he wasn't really sure whether he could. Live 'normally'.

"I'm glad you found this place, then," he said, finishing his own drink. "as for me," there was a short potentially hollow laugh, "well, I ain't sure redemption is the right word. Sometimes I think," his voice seemed a little more somber, "I was just born bad. You know?"

She's a lonely woman who's spent most of her life alone, scared and scaring people in equal measure. A smile and a friendly conversation are like a feast to her starving soul. But that doesn't make her less observant. A lifetime in the background's made her good at picking up on these things. There's no rush for him to respond when she's done; there's no sense of impatience. She's not afraid of the quiet. And when he does speak, she listens.

"Let me tell you a story." It sounds innocent, but the way she says it, this is serious business. With an elbow on the bar and her chin in her hand, she's taking her time with this. Picking her words with care.

"Where I came from, gods are real. Some of them anyway. Maybe all of them. The Greek, the Egyptian, gods you and I have never heard of... and the Norse. Oh, the Asgardians, they're trouble. Especially Loki. He was the god of mischief, the master magician, the storyteller, and trickster. These are not virtues, in Asgard; he couldn't fight with his fists the way his brother Thor could, and the other Asgardians didn't respect his abilities. He grew bitter. Who could blame him? They were cruel and he was lonely. Eventually, his bitterness turned to evil, and he became destructive. He wanted to kill his brother and all the warriors who'd taunted him, he wanted to destroy Midgard--Earth--because it was a place his brother loved. He would have done just about anything.

"Until, one day, he realized that if he allowed the world to end, he'd never be able to redeem himself. There'd be nobody left to see his victory and no one would ever love him. So he allowed himself to die and be reborn as an innocent child. A new god of mischief. But the Asgardians didn't always see that this child, who had his name and the face they remembered from their own youth, wasn't the same. He was supposed to have a chance to be someone new, someone better, but... he never really got it.

"And he allowed himself to die again, to be replaced, secretly, with the third version of Loki. The god of lies. He pretended he was still the innocent child, he played his part, doing more or less what he was told until it didn't suit his purposes anymore. He found his way to Earth, made a friend, and had a real chance at change. Maybe he could have, if he'd been honest... but his past and his future caught up with him."

She pauses here and wishes she hadn't finished her drink. This is hard, even when she's trying to keep herself out of it. "So, you see the pattern. Another rebirth, another Loki. God of stories, now. Who knows what's next? But he's going to keep trying. Because that's what you do. You keep trying. No matter how you started out, you can change."

His eyes moved over to her when she changed her position and began to tell her story. Putting aside the fact that she talked about Gods being real in her world, he deciphered what she was trying to say fairly well. Nash knew who Loki was, according to mythology, but didn't know much about him. Nevertheless, sounded like this 'God' was impossibly human even still. Although there was something he disagreed with in the story, but he'd thinking about how to say it.

"I'm guessin' that friend was you," he wasn't stupid, so he had to consider his words carefully. With a long inhale, Nash turned his stool to face her. His head tilted a bit, his eyes found hers and considered a little longer. Fingers placed the empty glass on the table.

"Now, I ain't meaning to say that this Loki friend of yours is a bad person. We all do bad things sometimes," He felt like it was a good way to start, "but the only thing your story about him reliving his troubles three times over proves to me is that some people can't change. They're just meant to be what they are. An' it seems to me that the end of the road for him is the same, it's just the way that he get there that changes."

Edited 2015-12-14 17:26 (UTC)

Verity doesn't mind being watched. It's a nice change from being overlooked or seen as a stand-in for whatever the other person expects. The fact he's listening and thinking about what she said is the icing on the cake. It's what keeps her temper from flaring much; she can keep a lid on it.

"Yeah, that was me." Some little part of her wonders if he's going to ask the follow-up question everyone asks. She hopes not. Her gaze stays with his until he looks away. There's a brief narrowing until she considers everything he's saying (ironic, yes, she knows; she's working on it), then she takes a breath and shrugs the irritation off. He doesn't deserve it and she can be better than that. "I'm sorry, I must have told it badly. He did change. I know he did, I saw it. The point I was trying to make is that sometimes it takes a lot of work, a lot of tries before you find the people and the place where you can get a fair shake at a second chance. Or third, or whatever. And sometimes it takes people a long time to see that you have changed. But you have to keep trying."

She can be very emphatic when she talks. It comes from being a comic book character. The italics, like an accent, are hard to shake.

Nash isn't that traditional. He figures that it's entirely possible for a man and a woman to be friends and let it end there, sometimes it's more, sometimes it's not, either way what business is it of his? Maybe that kind of attitude came from being in a family where there was a lot of strong women that didn't fit the role of 'what a woman should be'. Who knew. His sister could be a bit of a maneater so who was he to judge what Verity did or didn't do and with whom.

A small smile found his lips again when she continued, explained a little further. A little perspective never hurt, and the more he thought about it the more he thought that it was more that possible he just wanted to find a way to validate the idea that he was horrible rather than fight against it. It was easier when you accepted the bad than to keep struggling with is.

"Well, could just be how I wanted to interpret it," he admitted. His smile turned a little more genuine, "sorry to break the mood. You up for another?" Idle hand tapped his empty glass.

Not asking about that alone will get him very close to the top of her favorite people list. Up in the neighborhood of her new brothers, which might be ironic since they've both asked her that question and one of them still doesn't believe her. He's great, really, when he's not being a jerk.

Did Nash know his smile is infectious? Because it is, in a very agreeable sort of way. It feels good to smile so much. "Ah. Well, that's fair enough. Loki would probably say that that's what stories like gods are for." She glances briefly down at their glasses, then gives him a nod when she looks up again. "Sure. You didn't break anything. This place seems to attract people with something on their mind, and anyone who's happy the whole first time they're here is either in shock or on some amazing drugs."

"You weren't born bad," she adds quietly. "You may do bad things sometimes, but the whole is greater than the sum of the parts."

He'd been told. About the smile, that was. A few times over the years, but he didn't let it affect his ego that much. So when they seemed to have gotten over the first hump of the dumps and she nodded for a third drink, he was feeling a bit more high in spirits. Chances were, stading straight was about to get a little more difficult after the third whiskey but hey.

"Ain't broke nothin' yet," he leaned a little close to her and then rocked back again and waved the tender over for another round. There was a moment of silence spent just looking her way, then a single laugh as his head dipped toward the refilled glass just put in front of him. Well, that was nice. She was nice.

"You got a good heart, Verity."

Yeah, they maybe should have thought about the effects of this much whiskey in this amount of time, or thought about having something to eat. Oh well. What is a visit to the infinite space between everywhere for if not binge drinking?

Her cheeks flush when he leans in ever so faintly. The curse of pale skin. There's no hiding it when he's watching her like that, but she hasn't had the sense he's the sort to judge her for these things. He's probably used to making women flustered. She has a feeling he's used to a lot of things she doesn't understand.

"Broken things can be fixed." The blushing's only going to get worse after the compliment. Maybe talking will help, or distract him. "Sometimes they're even more beautiful after. Like kintsugi." Is she rambling? She thinks she's rambling. "I don't know if I'm good. I hope so. But I've got things to make up for."

No good story began with a salad, right? At least they weren't at shots, but that could very quickly change if he was feeling stupid enough. Let him finish the whiskey first and go from there.

Nash resumed his original position, chest facing her and body leaned on the bartop by propped up an elbow. His fingers curled around the side of his face and he shamelessly watched her cheeks flair up with that contagious smile. He did, when he was in the mood, know how to charm his way around the block a bit but he was more attracted to a lady that pushed back some.

"Pretty sure that just makes you human, donnit?" He leaned in again, just a little. "Go on, impress me with your worst."

Not every good story has to start with a bad decision, but most of the interesting ones do. There's no need to rush anything. She's not going anywhere.

He can watch her blushing all he likes, but after the initial wave of embarrassment from the scrutiny subsides, she'll be giving him one of her infamous eyebrow looks. This one is 'that look for when you're waiting for the joke to be funny'.

"Human and flawed, yeah." Being asked about her worst makes her smile fade. She looks down, sips her whiskey, and thinks about how to phrase it before deciding there's no sugar-coating what she did. Her eyes are sad when they lift to meet his again, sad and resigned to whatever judgement he passes. "I walked away from a friend when he needed me, and he died."

Nash let out an exhale at his failed attempt to lighten the mood. Suppose he should have figured that if Verity could tell when someone was lying they wouldn't answer a question like that lightly. He frowned a little, brows ebbed inward, and a hand instinctively found her shoulder.

"Hey," he tipped his head, "Shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry." A moment, he let his head fall. "How 'bout we start over? Since you live here, I'm about ready to head out. Wanna show me the sites?"

There's a jolt of surprise when he touches her, just an instant of tension before she releases a breath and relaxes. His touching is permitted. She'll even lean into it if his hand lingers.

"No, I'm sorry. I take things too literally." She'd make a mental note to work on that if she hadn't been drinking; not much chance she's going to remember right now. "No, I don't want to start over. I like you already, and it's not like another chance will go any better for me. But if you want to see the sights, sure. Magical, technological, artistic, natural? The walking around would take too long to see them all today if you're going to be home in time for dinner."

He thought she might be a little jumpy but was glad to see she didn't think of him as a complete threat. Then again, maybe she should. Well, enough of that for now. Nash waved like it was water under the bridge. Not like he's never had a few drunken evenings with friends or family that were nothing short of a rollar-coster ride themselves.

Nash thought a little, "well, how 'bout you pick and I'll work on an excuse to tell my Ma why I'm late?"

Not a threat, a surprise. One that's turning out nicely. Maybe she should be more careful about a lot of the friends she makes, but too late for that kind of discretion. This time, it's her turn to lean in, her lips curled in a mischievous little smile and an eyebrow arched. "You could always tell her you met a pretty girl."

Where to take him... that merits some thought. She wants something impressive but not overwhelming, not too far away, nothing that would require them to be sober (so the flying cars are out), and something he'll enjoy.

Ah ha. She perks up when she gets an idea. "You ever heard of an artist named Escher?"

Nash slipped off the stool with a chuckle. He wandered off for a moment to chat with the bartender but came back in less than a minute. Fingers grabbed his jacket and he nodded toward the door, "it'll all be, when will I meet her, is she gonna be around for longer than a week, blah blah blah."

"Who hasn't?"

It's very gentlemanly of him to pay, but she's still leaving a generous tip. She lives here and wants to be thought well of. "Oh, one of those? I'm sorry to hear it. I think my mom would have fainted if I'd ever told her I met someone."

She stands and picks up her jacket, draping it over her shoulders again as they head out. "On some worlds, he never became an artist or never got famous. There's a real working Escher staircase room not too far from here. We could go watch the slinkies. One of them has been going for 137 years."

"Well, I figure she's just worried her only boy ain't going to be making her pretty little grandchildren anytime soon," he chuckled and headed out with her. "God knows Ruby-Sue ain't gonna settle anytime soon neither."

A brow lofted when she talked about a real Escher staircase. Seemed to make sense though for a place like this. He shrugged and squinted once they were basked in normal light again then looked over toward her.

"Why not," a hand waved, "lead the way."

"You would make pretty children," she agrees. It seems like a safe enough answer while she's slightly distracted. Did her mom ever wonder about that? It had never come up between them. Too many things were never really talked about in her family. At least she can't pass it on. "Ruby-Sue is your sister? Older or younger?"

She turns and waits for him to fall into step with her before glancing up at him again. Her pace is slower this time; they both had more to drink than was strictly necessary, and she wants to keep an eye on him. Just in case. "Did you mean it? About my coming to visit your world?" If he's regretting the offer, now's the time to speak up or forever hold his peace.

He stopped for a moment to feed his habit and pick out another cigarette and then easily caught up with her, a chuckle answering her claim on him making pretty children. Hands shoved into his pocket after it's been lit and he nodded.

"S'right. Got one sister, one brother. I'm the oldest, Ruby's the youngest though you wouldn't know it. Hell, sometimes she's sharper than I am." It made him crack a smile and puff out some smoke, "then I never did brag about intelligence being a redeeming quality of mine."

He's fine, happy to stroll in the slower pace. Somehow even more relaxed. His eyes were distracted by this and that until she asked about his offer and he stopped with the very smallest of a wobble. "Sure I did."

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This is about 5 years of comics condensed. It could be longer. :P

Oh boy, here we go!

And I never even mentioned the bird...

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Our secret tour guide is my husband ;) He's funnier than I am.

SORRY work has been giving me a hernia - watch me skip over the money situation

Don't apologize! Not your fault. And if work's causing problems, def take care of yourself.

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