patheticvillain | forty-two ➢ video + private + spam

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forty-two ➢ video + private + spam

Whoever brings me ibuprofen and weed first gets to be my best friend for the next week.

What'd I miss? Needy, where the fuck are you? Where's my cat?

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Was there a flood? I heard there was a flood. Did it get you?

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[The first thing Cassel does - after a really solid lunch and a long shower - is get down to the gym. He doesn't know what's happened to Mindy, but it seems like he's on his own here for a little while. So he meanders through the gym equipment, cleaning, re-organizing, and very obviously brooding.]

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[And Stiles has a history of hyper-vigilance. A long history. He smirks at Cassel's statement and shakes his head.]

No, so far I haven't died a gruesome death on the Barge. [But considering everything? He isn't expecting that trend to last forever.]

How are you feeling?

Honestly?

[He looks at the door, as if he's waiting for someone; then down, shifting his weight, crossing his arms. Not only is he moving with discomfort, he's doing it deliberately, not wanting to hide anything. He didn't know he was in a coma until he woke up, but he still feels - lonely, cut off from this whole ship and everyone on it.]

I'm pissed. I hate comas. And I'm worried about Needy.

[Stiles watches him, frowning and also glancing toward the door when Cassel does. He sees no one and returns his gaze toward the other guy's face. He doubts anyone aboard is really fond of being comatised, so he doesn't blame him there at all. It's never happened to Stiles, but the whole dropping into a coma for unknown reasons thing is troubling at best, even if there don't ever seem to be any ill physical effects after.]

Well yeah. Comas suck. [His frown deepens at the mention of Needy, though.] Why? What's going on?

She's freaking out. I think she thinks I can't tell, but I can.

[He can tell when almost anyone's freaking out. He knows what to look for, what people tend to hide.]

Did she get hurt? I don't want to go behind her back, but--

[He has to know. What happened, who made her think he wasn't coming back, who to watch out for in the future. Who to hurt, or try really hard not to hurt, who to think over and over again about hurting and walk away from like a good reformed bastard.]

[Or if it's just his fault.]

No, not that I know of. I mean, I'm pretty sure if she'd gotten hurt I would've known. [His eyes are troubled as he looks at Cassel.]

I think she's just -- been really worried about you. A lot of people have been dropping into comas lately and it's weird. I don't think she's used to it yet.

You never get used to that. Not unless you're, like. Iris.

[Glancing up at Stiles, he looks away quickly, not quite able or willing to hide the hint of guilt in his eyes.]

You've been looking out for her? I know she likes you guys.

Yeah and let's face it...there's only one Iris. Uh. Usually.

[Stiles frowns when he catches sight of the guilt.]

Dude, you know it's not your fault, right? I mean it's not like you chose to be in a coma.

Usually.

[Things that are not helping him in this moment: thinking about Bianca. Okay. Deep breaths.]

Does it matter if it's my fault? Like, really. That's a serious question. I've been there, okay? When I was an inmate, my warden took some time off. And I wasn't mad about it, you know, I knew he needed to, but there's still this fear that they'll change their mind or something will happen and you'll be alone. Again.

Coma's the same way. You know it's not their fault, but what if something just happens and they never come back to you? She doesn't deserve that shit, nobody does. Not even the worst, ugliest people in the world.

[Sorry, Cassel. It's sort of currently on his mind, considering. He falls silent when the other man talks, listens intently to what he's saying. He hasn't been an inmate. But he can kind of relate to that fear of being left alone, even if it's an irrational fear on his part. A lot of fear is irrational.]

No. You're right. But that's sorta the whole thing about life. You don't always have control of what happens. To you, to people you care about. [He looks away.] Sometimes bad things just happen and all you can do is try to pick up the pieces when it's all said and done. And...you can dwell on it and feel bad as much as you want and it's not gonna change anything. Or you can focus on what you can control. On reassuring Needy that you won't choose to leave her for good. That even if you leave for a little while because of stuff back home, or because you drop into a coma...you're going to come back if there's any way you can.

[He listens, to his credit. The whole time refutations are roiling in the back of his mind, violent arguments. He wants to pick a fight with somebody, he realizes; he wants to argue. But not with Stiles. Stiles isn't the problem here, or even a substitute for the problem.]

I guess that's one thing I still haven't learned. [A smile that's a little more like a smirk, a little meaner and more self-defensive than strictly necessary.] Not having control. Just dealing with that.

[That and not just dwelling on his own misery. He got that lesson mostly down, but there are days - well. This is starting to look like one of them.]

[He blows his bangs out of his face and looks up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.]

Maybe I should just go back and start over.

[He nods, and looks down at his hands at Cassel's admission. He can definitely relate. He wishes he didn't.]

Start over how? [He glances at him sideways, curious.]

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