chaotica | session 13 . video

session 13 . video

[ Here is Cambridge, seated at his desk, if the word 'seated' includes sprawled with feet up and uniform jacket open, revealing blue turtleneck underneath. He looks very comfortable. He may also have a glass of Scotch. ]

I'd like to conduct a survey. Call it personal patient satisfaction, if you think it's annoying.

Ready?

Now: Pick three adjectives to describe me. Support your choices with evidence and/or reasoning.

Thank you very much.

[ Cheers. He takes an apparently very satisfying sip of Scotch, letting out a little ah after. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Not busy, not entirely sober. Fair warning.

you'll probably be nearer my wavelength a bit pissed. are you aware of my most recent death toll?

also I can come up and do this face to face but I sometimes think better in text.

As it turns out, I am also a mobile being.

Exquisitely so, dear. Would you like to combine your therapy and mine or would you have trouble being sufficiently authoritative naked and oiled up?

Edited 2015-02-11 02:45 (UTC)

I can be sufficiently authoritative in nearly any situation.

it's why I like you so much.

get down here then, and I'll work on your deltoids while I bring you up to speed on my latest piece of self-destructive stupidity.

Edited 2015-02-11 03:15 (UTC)

Sounds like a party.

[ And he's gonna go on and wander over there. ]

[Iris is in her robe, curled very small into one of the big wicker armchairs in her spa.

She's always been a small woman, of course, but her usual demeanour is so much larger than life that she rarely looks it. She doesn't look dramatically red-eyed or weepy, but although she smiles to see Cambridge, she is patently not happy.]

'Ey Doctor Cambridge. Did you bring the whisky or will you 'ave some of mine? 'Ow much 'ave you found out about what 'appened with Roderick and me?

Yours. I'm not sharing; it was a Christmas gift.

[ And he likes it SO MUCH. ]

Roderick and you. Can't say I've had Roderick's acquaintance at all, actually. [ Strange to see her like this. He undoes the thin fabric line down the center of his uniform and shrugs it off, leaving the blue turtleneck and the black pants below. ]

Would you like to tell me what happened?

[She's grateful to need to get up and pour more drinks; because this is easier to talk about when she doesn't look Cambridge in the eye.]

Horatio's inmate. Nice lad, actually; I think you'd find 'im interesting. We talk a lot about death and ...any road, a couple of weeks back 'e asked if I'd let 'im kill me. And I said yes. So we went and did it in the Enclosure so as not to leave a mess, and ...I know.

And I didn't 'esitate to say yes. Not for a second. I don't want to be dead, you understand; I've very much internalised the death toll 'ere. It's a bad 'abit to get into and I'm not sure 'ow well I can get meself out of it.

And then ...well, let me show you.

[She hands Cambridge a fresh drink and her communicator, showing this conversation, and busies herself selecting massage oils while he reads it.]

[ He reads it quickly, but chews over it even as his eyes pass over the words. ]

Is it your nature, Iris, not to think about the people who love you? Is it something you've ever overcome?

[ He's not asking this accusingly, and he thinks she'd be able to tell that. He thinks this is an important question. ]

[Iris thinks over the question as she works Cambridge's shoulder muscles, using the rhythmic long, smooth strokes of her hands as a way to ground her own nervousness. It's deceptively complicated.]

Buggered if I know. It's... It's not so much I didn't think of 'em, so much as I didn't let myself. Part of me can never quite believe it's for real, any road; even when I know it is.

[She pauses, considering, though her hands and her breathing keep moving at their own unhurried pace.]

I'm not sure I ever 'ave overcome it, no. I think it's so 'ard to really believe I matter to anyone that I act as if I don't. Even when I know that's not true.

[ Oh, that's nice. He closes his eyes, props his chin. ]

And that's why it makes it easier to connect to so many. Lots of little connections feel freer, easier, more believable than fewer, heavier ones.

[This startles her enough that her hands briefly stop moving, though she doesn't speak until she's started again. Her rhythm is thoughtful, controlled.]

Safer. The word you want is safer.

How long have you been alive, Iris? How many times have you had to say goodbye to someone you love?

I sort of lost count after the first millennium, Dr. Cambridge. My timeline's ...become very complicated and not all my memories are quite where they should be. Or what they should be. Or necessarily in that order.

A lot.

And you'll have to do it again.

And again and again and again, Dr Cambridge. Till the multiverse wears out or till I do, whichever 'appens first.

[She says this with a kind of sturdy pride, and her hands on him move with more confidence. He is also one of those people, or will be; there's no real difference in Iris' view between potential and actual.]

I'm not saying it's easy, but trying to avoid it'll break you far worse and far deeper. 'Sides, people are worth it. But you're the last person I need to tell that to, aren't you, sweetheart?

More worth it than what you're giving them, in my ever-so-humble opinion.

[Her first impulse is to shout at him, immediately on the defensive; her hands become still on his neck as though Iris is carefully counting all the ways she could incapacitate him without getting out of breath.

She is doing exactly that, but she's doing it as a calming technique: she visualises all the nerve clusters and the balance points where one can break a bone with its own physics, and then she moves again, exquisitely gentle.]

Which is exactly the problem I've come to you with, Dr Cambridge. It's an 'abit I know I need to break, at least with them two. I were 'oping you might 'ave some suggestions.

[Her voice is sweet and light, and has razor blades in it.]

[ He communicates through more than just the little chuckle; his mind, ordinarily well-controlled, easily gives up a swirl of genuine affection. He likes her. The ease of it implies that perhaps he's been very close with a telepath before. ]

You just said you know you need to break it. Does that mean you really want to? [ The question is more serious.

He suspects the answer is mixed, yes and no. ]

[Iris runs her thumb down the line of his spine, ticklish and delighted.]

I really want to not 'urt people I love that way again. It's a dirty sort of 'abit, throwing meself on grenades for kicks. It does feel good. It does what I need it to. I just... I really don't want to make Cain and Babs feel that way again.

[In other words, a mixed yes and no.]

Tell me the benefits of continuing on as you are.

[ He has a fair idea of what he's facing, but he wants her to bring it out between them. ]

Good grief.

[That question takes her aback, and she spends some moments considering it while she works the muscles either side of Cambridge's spine, the nerve clusters around his hipbones.]

...that's a trick question, really. It's not about benefit. I'm not thinking longterm when I pull a stunt like that, I'm not trying to do the right thing. It's like gnawing your leg off to get out of a trap; it sorts the immediate problem out in a big rush of pain and adrenaline and blood.

[And then she snorts softly in rather humourless laughter.]

'Course, you still 'ave a limb missing after, but that's a different problem. They do say a change is as good as a rest.

Edited 2015-02-19 13:28 (UTC)

I know you don't think ahead. That's why I'm asking you to. Give me a realistic assessment, Iris - nngh.

session 13 . video

[text/private]

[text/private]

[text/private]

[text/private]

[text/private]

[text/private]

[text/private]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]