2019-08-30 - Cell phones and Surrogates

Grumpy Alexander is grumpy. His roommate is asleep but that hasn't stopped a nurse from turning on the TV on that side of the room, and it's playing something Alexander clearly finds irritating. He's drumming his fingers on the head of a stuffed monster toy, and there are flowers and the suggestion that one chair next to the bed is often occupied. He looks okay, and awake, aside from one half of his neck, which is bandaged.

There is no telling where Bennie got the outfit or if she cobbled it together herself with her sewing skills and something acquired from the thrift store she could alter, but the blonde has a full blown Candy Striper outfit, from the white dress, the pink striped apron all the way up to the old fashioned nurses' hat. And NOT the slutty version from the Halloween store.

She doesn't come bearing flowers, stuffed animals or balloons, but a book from the library and a spiral pad with a faded cover. Sticking her head around his curtain, she says a soft, "Knock, knock?" Instead of the exuberant way she invaded Ruiz' room last time she was visiting a patient.

Ah, blessed distraction from sitcom hell. Alexander glances to the door. His eyes widen as he takes in his visitor. Or, at least, her outfit. "Are you real?" he asks first. Or tries to ask; his voice comes as an unintelligible croak. More grump, but he waves her in. Offers a smile, gestures at the outfit, one eyebrow raised.

Bennie pauses where she stands, two fingers plucking the edge of her skirt and fanning it out to the side to do a little pose. "You like? I figure I visit enough people in here, I might as well start looking the part." He's not the first to ask if she's real when she dons a costume, that being Easton when she played 50's housewife. "I promise I'm not one of those...Dollarphases." Dolorphages. Whatever.

She bites the inside of her cheek, then motions to the chair. "...can I?"

Alexander gestures easily to a chair. He grins at her claim, then reaches for his phone. There is tapping, until a text message is sent. It looks lovely on you, Bennie. But that IS what a dolorphage would say. For the record.

He settles back and studies her, head tilted to one side. Tap tap. Are you well?

For a second Bennie looks confused as to why Alexander suddenly has to text someone, until she hears the chime from her pocket and it dawns on her. She fishes it out to read the screen, and is about to type out her response before she realizes she's not the one to have difficulty speaking. "We really need to work on some sort of universally known indication that we aren't these Dark Men people. Speaking of, when you're feeling better, we're totes going to have to have a discussion about that and Easton."

There is a shrug to the question though, and a more exuberant, "Just peachy keen, jelly bean. But I'm here to check on you, not the other way around."

Alexander flashes a quick grin. His fingers type quickly.

They'd just emulate it. They're assholes like that. Or at least, they are in my experience. His eyebrows go up at the mention of the Dark Men and Easton in the same sentence. His smile turns to a frown. Another text is quickly sent. What? Is he okay?

A wave of dismissal to her cheerful reply. Both can be accomplished. I'm bored. But good. He picks up the monster tucked into his side and shows it to Bennie. Oscar. Erin brought him. A smile; he likes the silly thing, and it DOES kind of look like Sesame Street's favorite Grouch.

"He's fine, just. He's being messed with. And not in the veil, not in some dream, but here. I even shared his ...hallucination? Illusion? But anyways, he's off on a boy's fishing trip weekend with Geoff, which I'm pretty sure is code for butt sex." Bennie talks down at her phone screen so she can answer his words as they come scrolling in. Her glance flicks up though as she sees him move out of the corner of her eye, showing off his new fluffy acquisition. "Oh my god, so cute! I never pegged you as a stuffed animal kinda guy, but now I know. I brought you a book! I don't know if you like Whitman or not. If not, it makes a handy projectile! Though. I have to return it to the library when you're through, so. Don't ruin it."

Alexander arches a skeptical eyebrow. Type type!

That's not fine. Being messed with. Has he been using a lot of power, lately?

Ting! That one is off to be read and there's a pleased grin when Oscar is deemed cute. His smile turns slightly sideways when she says he didn't seem like a stuffed animal kind of guy. He puts Oscar aside, for a moment, then reaches for his gown. Clearly, time for strip-and-tell! No, no. He's actually quite discreet about manuevering the thing around so that he can show Bennie an old, old scar on his stomach without flashing anything but a length of thigh and side. Both of which have a few other scars. But he points that one out, then covers everything up and types.

My teddy bear did that when I was...8? Didn't have many after that. But Oscar seems cool. Then there's a bright smile. I love Whitman. Thank you.

"Well, there was the whole opening the veil thing and returning covered in dead guy goo?" But that couldn't possibly be it, right? Bennie's trying to down play the whole thing, mainly because it doesn't seem like she wants to burden Alexander with it while he's convalescing. They'll be plenty of time for that later.

When things turn to show and tell, Bennie leans forward to inspect the scar with a scowl forming on her usually bright features. Her fingers extend briefly as if compelled to touch, but quickly coil back when her phone chimes again. "Seriously? Not only would I never have a stuffed animal again, I would exterminate them with extreme prejudice. BYE BYE Teddy Ruxpin. I knew that thing was the pure evil when you cold put heavy metal tapes into it and it would sing along. Oh! Here." She slides the book onto the edge of the mattress.

No touchie. Alexander eyes the hand as it approaches, but without any particular heat to it. He's got too much morphine to be particularly skittish at the moment, which is why he's probably also willing to show Bennie his belly. He shifts around to cover everything up again, and shrugs. More typing. I won't say that I didn't. But 30 years of not being attacked by stuffed animals soothes the ache a bit. Besides, if I hated everything the Shadows sent after me, I'd...hate everything.

He picks up the book and looks it over with delight. It's flipped through for a moment, before he sets it aside and takes up the phone again. Thanks. This is great. And we'll try to help Easton. He needs to avoid using his abilities. For a bit. Throw them off the scent.

No touchie. Bennie knows better when it comes to Alexander, but that doesn't mean she wasn't compelled for a brief moment. "You mean you don't?" Hate everything. Her question makes her smile rebloom to its full glory as she eases back into the visitor's chair, still clutching the spiral notebook with the faded and worn cover. "We both agreed to try and cut out glimmer as much as possible. But I just discovered something new I can do so it's really hard to not try and flesh it out. At least that way, I'd be less ...frightened of whatever freakiness I am. To quote G.I. Joe, knowing is half the battle."

Alexander blinks at Bennie a couple of times. He doesn't text. He just shakes his head: no, he doesn't hate everything. He seems bewildered, and a little sad, that the question even had to be asked. His hand caresses the Whitman cover, then he peers at Bennie, thoughtfully. Points at her. It doesn't need words to make the meaning clear: Do you? The rest, it seems, can wait until she addresses this question. The way he's staring at her suggests that a diversion will not be accepted.

Bennie feels a bit stripped down when Alexander looks at her like that. Turning self conscious, she lifts a hand to curl a finger around the shell of her ear, tucking a strand of blonde behind it. Even her body language changes, instead of the usual confident posture she usually has, her shoulders curl up a bit and her spine compresses until her back curves concave. "What." She murmurs, not understanding the question, perhaps, or feinting dumb.

Alexander continues to stare at her. He's got a penetrating sort of stare when he wants to use it (or, let's face it, even when he doesn't), and he's using it now - watching every moment of her turn of body language. He licks his lips, and says, slowly and carefully, his voice worse than hoarse, "Do you. Hate everything?"

"What? No! Of course not! And don't talk, god, you're going to hurt yourself more." Bennie pops up during her protest, moving to that ugly salmon colored plastic pitcher that seems to be an institution in every medical facility across the continental U.S. and pours him a fresh glass in the matching cup and unwraps a bendy straw to thrust into it. She hands it over with a frowning moue of her lips. "I have a wonderful boyfriend, a great job. Good friends. What's there to hate? A person can get through anything with those kinds of things at her back."

Alexander would protest, but...well. No talking has been ordered. So he just takes the cup and bendy straw, and takes a sip from it like a good boy. But his eyes don't waver from her, studying and weighing her response with that flat gaze he gets. He takes another sip of water, then sets it aside so he can text.

You said you hated yourself. A while ago. You shouldn't. Or what you can do.

With a little noise of frustration that sounds more like a squeak, Bennie goes back to her phone to see what Alexander had to say. It takes her longer to read the text than it really should, or perhaps she's formulating an answer and picking her words carefully. Finally, she just turns the ringer off her phone and stuffs it in her pocket. She can't respond to any of his disagreements with what she's about to say if she takes away that line of communication with him.

"I'm a monster, Alexander. And not because..." Bennie's eyes look up and to the side as she tries to pick out the words. "Not because I'm I can glimmer like most of this strange town can, but because..." Her teeth find a spot on her lip that she worries with a brief saw of their edge. "Because at Easton's bar, when the Ghoul showed up. People fought. Hard. And then I just ...dropped one. Maybe two? Of the cops. Cops, Alexander. It doesn't matter if I knew they were a vision or not, if they were the veil or not. I cracked their bones like chopsticks. And if that's not bad enough?" Her eyes finally return to his face. "It felt good."

She takes a deep breath and forces her smile back on her face, just like that. Just like she flips some switch and decides to just pack it all back away in a little box. "So! Can I get you anything else? Just nod. Another pillow? The TV remote? I won't insult you by asking if you want me to just make this go away so you can go home. I know you'd ask if that's what you wanted."

Outrage flickers in Alexander's eyes when she puts the phone away. He frowns, and glares at her. Although her actual answer stops the glare - his face goes blank instead. Intent. Listening. He doesn't shy away from the revelation, although his fingers tap tap tap out a rhythm on the bedspread. And then he reaches out with his mind - this isn't a gentle request. Instead, he just projects his voice past all the mental defenses she has, impossible to run away from.

<<Don't try to silence me, Bennie, just because you might not like what I have to say.>> He studies her for a long moment. <<I'm the last person to be able to tell who is or isn't a monster. But if you're one, then I'm one. And Easton's one. Not because we have powers. But because we've killed, and felt satisfaction in the kill. In that moment. When the actors ambushed us, wanted us to turn someone over to the darkness, we killed them. I killed one of them with my powers and my hands. Not because I had to, but because I was angry and...>> a long pause <<it felt good, yes. Not the death. But coming out on top when I was scared and angry and when I felt powerless a lot of the time. I slept better after that than I have for...a decade. Maybe more. So. Am I a monster, Bennie?>>

God, his voice is louder than any time Easton accidentally shouted in her brain meats. And unlike anything he's ever projected to her, Alexander's voice doesn't bring comfort. Bennie's hands fly to the sides of her face, hands fanning out over her ears and temples as if she can block the intrusions, the words as they almost seem to assault her simply for the fact that she can't fight against them.

She vehemently shakes her head, disagreeing, discombobulated. "No!" She finally shouts, causing his neighbor on the other side of the curtain to snort in his sleep and mumble before his snoring recommences. Her chin is trembling, her bottom lip wobbling. Her eyes welling with moisture that doesn't get shed. "He's a soldier. You're an investigator. I'm...I'm a healer. I'm supposed to fix people. Not break them apart. And like a coward, cowering behind the bar, while people like De la Vega get... look, I should go. You'll let me know if you change your mind about wanting my help." She moves to retake her notebook, gathering it to her chest like a shield.

<<Being behind the bar was a smart thing, Bennie. And you are a healer. You do fix people>> Alexander moderates the 'volume' of the projected voice, but it's still stern and forceful in a way his physical voice rarely ever is. The tears are studied with what might look like impassivity, except that his eyes are almost on fire with some strong emotion. <<But the inherent other side of that is the ability to harm. To break. You don't need your powers to do that, either. It just makes it easier. And the fact that when your life, and the lives of others, were on the line, you broke people and felt okay about that - it's not monstrous. It's human. I've seen monsters in human skin, Bennie. They don't regret. They don't doubt. They enjoy every minute of what they do.>>

He ducks his head and sighs. <<But I've felt that way about myself enough to know that me telling you won't help. Won't change how you feel. I'm sorry. I wish I could, because you deserve better.>> Then there's a lopsided smile. <<If you wanted to heal me, I wouldn't say no. I just want to keep the scar.>>

Bennie's lips thin, her jaw clenched against the further words echoing in her head. And she can hear each one perfectly, as if he spoke them aloud, it's a difficult thing to get used to. A difficult thing to even accept. But of her twenty nine years on earth, she's only started to accept glimmer in the first place this last one. And it's been a wild ride.

The heal of her palm grinds into her eye socket and she gives a laugh that sounds anything like her normal musical one. "I can't make any promises. And I'm going to have to touch you."

<<You don't have to, if it will make you feel bad. But you can touch me if you want.>> Alexander's mental voice gentles, although he's still projecting it into her braaaaaainz, and that's not very polite. But he's being as polite as he can be while violating the sanctity of her mind. So. Yay?

Well. She did abandon her phone. So turn about is fair play.

Bennie gives a little shake of her head and slides the notebook out of her grasp and puts it on the seat she abandons to step up to the side of his bed. She looks down at him, but instead of going to lay a hand on his throat, she slides a finger along his forehead and nudges a little strand of his hair into place. Hey. He gave her permission. "Shove over. You big...jerk." That's about the harshest name she can think of, and even then it's not as if she means it.

Alexander needs a proper shower, so that hair is a little bit lank as it's shoved back into place. He blinks owlishly up at her at the touch, but doesn't flinch away. Morphine helps. It does take him a moment to realize what she means by shoving over, and even longer to decide if he actually wants to do that. Eventually, though, he does. Shuffle enough to give her room, but watching her, wide-eyed and curious the whole time.

"Yeah, well. Just remember. You did this to yourself. With all your...talking." If it can count as that. "Easton's out of town, so you're going to have to be his surrogate." Because Bennie isn't just climbing onto the mattress like she did with Ruiz, the blonde is edging up there with Alexander and then full on stretching out next to him to lay down and nuzzling her head onto his shoulder.

This is rather more touching than Alexander signed up for. He stiffens when she stretches out next to him and nuzzles, and his non-IV hand curls into a tight fist - but he DOES manage not to panic and dump her to the ground. Yay for morphine. <<What is going on?>> His mental voice is now nothing more than confused and tentative - which makes it sound very much like his physical one. He's careful to keep his hands away from her...anything. <<Are you well?>>

Bennie doesn't try to curl around him or hug, nor get under the blankets. She just lays stretched out next to him with her head canted to his shoulder. "I know you probably hate this with every fiber of your being, but if I'm going to do a favor for you, you're going to do one for me so we're even from square one. So. Just lay there and think of England because I don't want to be alone right now."

<<Not every fiber.>> It's quiet, and although Alexander remains rather stiff under her head, his fist gradually unclenches, and his breathing evens out after a few moments of just laying there with no touching escalation. <<I don't believe thinking of England would help, though.>> And because he's projecting into her head, she may be able to pick up on the humor behind the deadpan 'voice' - he knows perfectly well what the saying refers to, but gets pleasure out of being difficult about it. <<And I can understand that. Not wanting to be alone. It's okay. Stay as long as you like.>>

The blonde just doesn't have it in her to laugh right now, even if it normally bubbles out so easily. "Just until the darkness goes away." Bennie murmurs and then tilts her head so she can look up at his profile, eyes ticking over it. "Are you ready?" She asks quietly, making sure he's 100 percent ready to be healed.

<<All right>> Alexander says, although for a guy who likes precision in speech, it has to be a somewhat frustrating answer. But he gently releases the projection into her mind, and sighs. Tries to close his eyes and relax with the unfamiliar form tucked up beside him. When she asks for his readiness, he just nods once, briefly.

"Okay." Bennie says softly, and there is the light weight of her hand sliding onto his throat. She's just touching the edge of the bandage, wary of causing him any more pain before she tries to whisk it away.

She too closes her eyes, if only to concentrate. It's impossible to tell what she goes through to get to the place she needs to in order to heal, but she goes completely still and then takes one long, deep breath until her lungs are straining from the inflation, and then with a long and calm exhale, the glimmer takes over.

Alexander braces himself when her hand rises. It's not the touch itself that he fears in this moment, but the touch on the vulnerable part of his neck - he has to restrain himself, again, from striking out by instinct. But he holds still and doesn't disturb her. There's a hitch in his breath, sharp and sudden, when the feel of her abilities sink into him, repairing torn tissue and reducing swelling and bruising. He hums to himself, and it doesn't hurt at all.

When Bennie feels the power ebb from her fingertips does she only dare to speak again, though she can't bear to open her eyes just yet, on the off chance that Alexander is making a face that she might misconstrue as disapproving. She might not be able to survive it a second time in one night. "How do you feel?" She ventures to ask, as her hand slithers away back to a neutral place.

"Much better," Alexander says. And he uses his words, his actual words. His voice is still a bit rough and growly, but it's recognizable, and it causes him little pain to use. "Thank you, Bennie. I think...I believe you might have done the trick. Which," a bit of amusement, "is going to be somewhat difficult to explain. Luckily, I think my doctor will understand." He opens his eyes and looks down at her, with a worried frown. "How do you feel?"

"I think they're starting to catch wise. Fudge the charts a little bit. When you think about it, as long as you stay here for a couple of days and they can bill? It's gotta look good for their margins, having such great success rates." At the question, there is a little shrug again from Bennie, one he can probably feel in the shift next to him rather than see, "Tired." Comes the simple answer.

Alexander reaches with his non-IV hand, and very tentatively puts it on her hair. Which is, unless she stiffens or otherwise rejects the touch, ruffled gently. "Take a nap? I think there's about half an hour between now and the next nursing check. You can sleep. If you like."

Unlike Alexander, Bennie doesn't have a personal bubble. She actually seems to relish the touch to her hair, relaxing a hair more with a little murgle of a sound in the back of her throat. "Yeah, maybe." But there is no maybe about it, because she's not bothering to open her eyes back up again. "Sure whoever is occupying that chair most of the time isn't going to mind?" The tease is light. Sleepy.

"I think Isabella will be happy that I am on the mend," Alexander says, quietly. He shifts a bit, to give her more room, even though it means smooshing his hip a bit against the other railing. "Just relax and sleep for a bit. I'll be awake." It isn't quite 'I'll watch over you', but there's a suggestion of that in the protective sort of tone he uses. He does turn to reach over her, briefly, to grab the Whitman book. Then settles in and starts reading while she sleeps.