Either way, Cassian shakes his head as he gathers up a few things. A bottle of tequila. Leftovers in the fridge (he's not sure what the situation is at Poe's, but Cassian clearly remembers having to go grocery shopping with Junyoung when they got out of the hospital, so there's a chance there isn't a whole lot of food in Poe's kitchen yet). A jacket. His blaster. HIs cell phone, after a pause.
Takes actually 18 minutes for him to get to Poe's. He's not favoring his leg, exactly, but he is being careful as he approaches the house. ]
[ BB-8 warns Poe of Cassian's approach. That's good, because it gives Poe a chance to stop staring at the glass of bourbon he's been nursing and knock the thing back before he goes to the door.
He's already done ten thousand billion idiotic things today, what's one more.
Poe leans against the open doorway as Cassian reaches the porch. ] You didn't say how real it would seem.
[ Oof. Any temper he was prepared to unleash dissolves against the reminder that Cassian has seen his own hells. Poe just studies the younger man for a moment, then jerks his head toward the interior of the house.
There are holes in the ceiling where BB-8 shot his grapnel through cameras, and scorch marks on the walls from where the droid killed the others. They're the only real standout features of the place beyond its emptiness and a single framed "family" photo on a table in the foyer. ]
I know, I know. They're going to come back and put in more. But hey, take advantage while we can, right?
[ He puts his hands up, the bag with food and bottle of tequila in one, but after a second makes his way into the house. ] When I woke up, I labeled all the ones I found. Then I labeled where more could be. My roommate was a little confused, to say the least.
I don't think I even gave him my name for a good forty minutes.
[ It is empty, but so is Cassian's place. So is every house he's been to, save Steve and Bucky and Natasha's, when they were dealing with the body. (The last time he felt like he was doing something that made sense, actually.) ]
[ Roommate. It's a stupid thing to be jealous about. Poe has BB-8.
Still, it would be nice to have another human being around--
His mind flashes on Caroline, and Poe practically flinches from the question.
He would make a garbage spy.]
I remembered a lot of things that never happened, from-- [ From the times he used to visit. And there are those memories now, unfolding in the vaguest terms, Cassian and Pietro and week long stretches four times a year.
At least they're in the kitchen. BB-8 rolls forward to greet Cassian and Poe braces his elbows on the island in the big kitchen's center. ] I remembered a lot of things that never happened. Someone I've never seen before today. Never.
[ Poe massages his temples and goes to get another glass from his overstocked cupboards.
There's one in the sink, in addition to Poe's own empty bourbon glass. That bottle is still sitting out, waiting to be used. ]
[ Okay. Cassian can do algebra, here. Someone was over, and Poe did...what? ]
Is anyone hurt?
[ Seems like a reasonable, open sort of question to ask. Poe sure doesn't seem okay, for what it's worth. BB-8 gets a pat on the head, a wane smile. Stretching back upright, however, has Cassian sucking in a breath before he can help it, but then he covers it up by setting the back on the counter and watching Poe move around. ]
There's not much...warning for it. Dead drops, really, only they're hardwired into every emotional response possible.
Depends on your definition. [ He spins the glass across the island to Cassian, locking on to that moment of undisguised pain. ]
You are though.
[ He's not going to think about emotional responses right now. He can't change what happened, certainly can't fix it. The best, the only thing he can do for Caroline right now is to stay away. ]
'Suffering' is usually my definition when applied to others.
[ Bleeding out in the sand, when applied to himself. Either way, Cassian takes the offered glass and holds it between his fingers for a moment before slamming it back.. ]
Who was it?
[ Glossing over his own 'hurt', thank you very much. ]
[ You can't leave an opening like that and not expect him to take it, Cassian, come on.
Poe pours his own glass, frowning at the liquid. Every instinct tells him to put it down and go hit something instead of drinking, but he's pretty sure most of the stuff in here he could hit would break.
He can't fly drunk.
But there's nothing to fly right now anyway.
Yeah, time to do like his cousin and knock that shit back.
I was in pretty bad shape when I got here. My back, my leg...there's not at 100 percent yet. [ Cassian's not sure how far he could sprint, if it came down to it, and that worries him a lot.
He should probably go back to the hospital but he...won't. ]
[ C'mon Poe. Cassian can plot damage control if he's unaware of the scope he's dealing with. ]
Probably. I just have to get through the next two days, then I can take it easy. [ Until taking it easy leads to boredom leads to going nuts in the echo chamber of his own head. ]
[ How very inconvenient when it comes to identifying a specific, unnamed individual.
Poe makes a noise that isn't exactly disapproval. It's more closely related to concern. Still, he himself can't really talk when it comes to taking things easy.
[ Poe gives in to nervous energy, walking a circuit of the kitchen as BB-8 asks for confirmation of what a bake sale is.
The pilot has to resist making a sharp comment about bake sales and where they can shove themselves. Cassian is making five tables worth of baked goods plus the shop's standard inventory, which means to some degree it matters.
Or is that just this place, telling them that it matters?
He tops himself off, pauses as he starts to raise the glass, and sets it down in disgust.
How many times is he going to fail before he gets a grip on himself? The recent infractions pale in comparison to what he gave up to the First Order, but he's beyond used up his ration of mistakes.
The First Order.
Poe rests his elbows against the island counter, scrubbing his hands through his hair. ]
We can't just sit here. We have to figure out who's doing this, why, we have to get out.
[ Cassian, for his part, watches Poe while explaining to BB-8 that it is a baked goods fundraiser for the school and the local hospital. He goes on to explain that it is a little pointless, really, but it's an excuse for adults to socialize and eat sweets, plus spending money for 'a good cause'. ]
It's not terribly important, honestly, but people have asked me to bake so.
[ He raises his eyebrows at Poe. ]
I don't think storming the Sheriff's office is going to get us very far.
I don't know. You, me, BB-8. I think we could take 'em. [ Poe smiles in a way that says he could be joking.
Maybe. Probably. Probably definitely joking.
He drums his knuckles on the table and goes back to walking around the room, apparently forgetting he's still got a drink sitting out. ] Come on. You can't tell me that no one here is planning anything.
[ He's solution-oriented, Cassian! Particularly when finding solutions means avoiding his emotions. ]
[ Cassian allows himself to let out a little snort. ]
As far as I know? No. Mostly, I imagine, because going after the Sheriff's office doesn't solve the larger problem of 'how did we get here and how do we leave', not when there's still a wall on one side that practically drains you of your lifeforce, and some nearly impossible to scale cliffs on the other. At best we take them out and we're still stuck here.
[ His eyes track Poe as he moves across the room, immediately worried. He seemed to take being family in stride, even armed with information that counteracted that. Whatever this is, whatever is affecting Poe now, is more...personal, maybe. ]
I think we're mostly in the 'collect intel' stage, I'm sorry to say.
He stops long enough to reclaim his drink, and BB-8 trundles over to Cassian, swiveling his head dome around to track Poe's progress through another circuit of the kitchen.
It's easier for him with Cassian. They have shared history, of a kind. They're on the same side. Cassian was the first friendly, honest face Poe encountered. And he didn't have the memories of being relatives to cloud his impressions. With the memories of visits, and standing on tip-toes as a kid to try and be taller than his cousin, and Cassian's insistent ruffling of his hair--those things only serve to reinforce the sense of belonging. They've come in quietly, not crashed down on him all at once. Moreover, he knows they aren't real, however real they might seem. Cassian knew of his parents, lived years before Poe was born. It's easier to separate the real and the fake memories, if not the emotions tied to them.
And yeah, there's proof that they never could have known each other, but there's enough to make Cassian the closest thing to a squadron member Poe has here.
Caroline....
Caroline came out of nowhere. Came out of nowhere, and hit far too close to home.
Poe stops, staring into space (at the microwave), and drinks again.] What intel have we got?
Cassian just sort of lets his eyebrows arch slightly at Poe's reaction; whatever happened must have occurred quickly, and it clearly shook Poe to the core. He feels bad; there's no good way to explain what it feels like, to have emotional context come along with memory and know that none of it happened. Or at least it doesn't appear to have happened, not really. ]
Not much.
[ Cassian finishes his second drink. ]
There was a body, in the river. Not human, which is strange for this place; Earth is a pre-spaceflight planet, really, and doesn't seem to have an otherwise occupied solar system. So either that has changed, and the information available here hasn't kept up - or we aren't on Earth at all. [ He'll take either, to be honest. ] It was shot with a hollow-point, and whatever was in it's system probably killed it based on my roommate's findings. He works at the hospital - [ Cassian explains, with a wave of his hand ] and is good people.
Anyway. Body, in the river, infected everyone in town through the water supply. Which tells me that we're isolated in more ways than one, and this might be as much about keeping people out as it is about keeping the rest of us in.
Be nice to know if that wall makes people feel the same way coming in as they do trying to go out. Either way, meant for safety or not, it's a prison.
[ Poe tops himself off again without thinking about it, not paying attention to how much he has or hasn't drunk. It's something to do with his hands.
He toasts Cassian and knocks the whole thing back recklessly, squinting and making a face after he swallows. ] Well. I think it's safe to say this sucks.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ Somehow he manages to convey a salute in that sentence, before hanging up.]
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Either way, Cassian shakes his head as he gathers up a few things. A bottle of tequila. Leftovers in the fridge (he's not sure what the situation is at Poe's, but Cassian clearly remembers having to go grocery shopping with Junyoung when they got out of the hospital, so there's a chance there isn't a whole lot of food in Poe's kitchen yet). A jacket. His blaster. HIs cell phone, after a pause.
Takes actually 18 minutes for him to get to Poe's. He's not favoring his leg, exactly, but he is being careful as he approaches the house. ]
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He's already done ten thousand billion idiotic things today, what's one more.
Poe leans against the open doorway as Cassian reaches the porch. ] You didn't say how real it would seem.
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My entire family was dead by the time I was six; my brother just called me an 'old maid' for not being married twenty years later.
Cognitive dissonance doesn't begin to cover it.
[ How the hell do you warn someone against something like that? ]
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There are holes in the ceiling where BB-8 shot his grapnel through cameras, and scorch marks on the walls from where the droid killed the others. They're the only real standout features of the place beyond its emptiness and a single framed "family" photo on a table in the foyer. ]
I know, I know. They're going to come back and put in more. But hey, take advantage while we can, right?
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[ He puts his hands up, the bag with food and bottle of tequila in one, but after a second makes his way into the house. ] When I woke up, I labeled all the ones I found. Then I labeled where more could be. My roommate was a little confused, to say the least.
I don't think I even gave him my name for a good forty minutes.
[ It is empty, but so is Cassian's place. So is every house he's been to, save Steve and Bucky and Natasha's, when they were dealing with the body. (The last time he felt like he was doing something that made sense, actually.) ]
What happened?
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Still, it would be nice to have another human being around--
His mind flashes on Caroline, and Poe practically flinches from the question.
He would make a garbage spy.]
I remembered a lot of things that never happened, from-- [ From the times he used to visit. And there are those memories now, unfolding in the vaguest terms, Cassian and Pietro and week long stretches four times a year.
At least they're in the kitchen. BB-8 rolls forward to greet Cassian and Poe braces his elbows on the island in the big kitchen's center. ] I remembered a lot of things that never happened. Someone I've never seen before today. Never.
[ Poe massages his temples and goes to get another glass from his overstocked cupboards.
There's one in the sink, in addition to Poe's own empty bourbon glass. That bottle is still sitting out, waiting to be used. ]
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Is anyone hurt?
[ Seems like a reasonable, open sort of question to ask. Poe sure doesn't seem okay, for what it's worth. BB-8 gets a pat on the head, a wane smile. Stretching back upright, however, has Cassian sucking in a breath before he can help it,
but then he covers it up by setting the back on the counter and watching Poe move around. ]
There's not much...warning for it. Dead drops, really, only they're hardwired into every emotional response possible.
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You are though.
[ He's not going to think about emotional responses right now. He can't change what happened, certainly can't fix it. The best, the only thing he can do for Caroline right now is to stay away. ]
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[ Bleeding out in the sand, when applied to himself. Either way, Cassian takes the offered glass and holds it between his fingers for a moment before slamming it back.. ]
Who was it?
[ Glossing over his own 'hurt', thank you very much. ]
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[ You can't leave an opening like that and not expect him to take it, Cassian, come on.
Poe pours his own glass, frowning at the liquid. Every instinct tells him to put it down and go hit something instead of drinking, but he's pretty sure most of the stuff in here he could hit would break.
He can't fly drunk.
But there's nothing to fly right now anyway.
Yeah, time to do like his cousin and knock that shit back.
He raises his eyebrows.]
Tit for tat, Cass.
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I was in pretty bad shape when I got here. My back, my leg...there's not at 100 percent yet. [ Cassian's not sure how far he could sprint, if it came down to it, and that worries him a lot.
He should probably go back to the hospital but he...won't. ]
Your turn.
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[ So there. He pours himself another drink and slides the bottle over to Cassian. ]
You been pushing yourself?
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[ C'mon Poe. Cassian can plot damage control if he's unaware of the scope he's dealing with. ]
Probably. I just have to get through the next two days, then I can take it easy. [ Until taking it easy leads to boredom leads to going nuts in the echo chamber of his own head. ]
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[ How very inconvenient when it comes to identifying a specific, unnamed individual.
Poe makes a noise that isn't exactly disapproval. It's more closely related to concern. Still, he himself can't really talk when it comes to taking things easy.
Can he?
No, probably not. ]
What's in the next two days?
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Bake sale.
Five tables worth of baked goods plus the shop's standard inventory. I'll be up pretty late.
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[ Poe gives in to nervous energy, walking a circuit of the kitchen as BB-8 asks for confirmation of what a bake sale is.
The pilot has to resist making a sharp comment about bake sales and where they can shove themselves. Cassian is making five tables worth of baked goods plus the shop's standard inventory, which means to some degree it matters.
Or is that just this place, telling them that it matters?
He tops himself off, pauses as he starts to raise the glass, and sets it down in disgust.
How many times is he going to fail before he gets a grip on himself? The recent infractions pale in comparison to what he gave up to the First Order, but he's beyond used up his ration of mistakes.
The First Order.
Poe rests his elbows against the island counter, scrubbing his hands through his hair. ]
We can't just sit here. We have to figure out who's doing this, why, we have to get out.
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It's not terribly important, honestly, but people have asked me to bake so.
[ He raises his eyebrows at Poe. ]
I don't think storming the Sheriff's office is going to get us very far.
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Maybe. Probably. Probably definitely joking.
He drums his knuckles on the table and goes back to walking around the room, apparently forgetting he's still got a drink sitting out. ] Come on. You can't tell me that no one here is planning anything.
[ He's solution-oriented, Cassian! Particularly when finding solutions means avoiding his emotions. ]
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As far as I know? No. Mostly, I imagine, because going after the Sheriff's office doesn't solve the larger problem of 'how did we get here and how do we leave', not when there's still a wall on one side that practically drains you of your lifeforce, and some nearly impossible to scale cliffs on the other. At best we take them out and we're still stuck here.
[ His eyes track Poe as he moves across the room, immediately worried. He seemed to take being family in stride, even armed with information that counteracted that. Whatever this is, whatever is affecting Poe now, is more...personal, maybe. ]
I think we're mostly in the 'collect intel' stage, I'm sorry to say.
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[ MOSTLY.
He stops long enough to reclaim his drink, and BB-8 trundles over to Cassian, swiveling his head dome around to track Poe's progress through another circuit of the kitchen.
It's easier for him with Cassian. They have shared history, of a kind. They're on the same side. Cassian was the first friendly, honest face Poe encountered. And he didn't have the memories of being relatives to cloud his impressions. With the memories of visits, and standing on tip-toes as a kid to try and be taller than his cousin, and Cassian's insistent ruffling of his hair--those things only serve to reinforce the sense of belonging. They've come in quietly, not crashed down on him all at once. Moreover, he knows they aren't real, however real they might seem. Cassian knew of his parents, lived years before Poe was born. It's easier to separate the real and the fake memories, if not the emotions tied to them.
And yeah, there's proof that they never could have known each other, but there's enough to make Cassian the closest thing to a squadron member Poe has here.
Caroline....
Caroline came out of nowhere. Came out of nowhere, and hit far too close to home.
Poe stops, staring into space (at the microwave), and drinks again.] What intel have we got?
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[ Die hard, as they say.
Cassian just sort of lets his eyebrows arch slightly at Poe's reaction; whatever happened must have occurred quickly, and it clearly shook Poe to the core. He feels bad; there's no good way to explain what it feels like, to have emotional context come along with memory and know that none of it happened. Or at least it doesn't appear to have happened, not really. ]
Not much.
[ Cassian finishes his second drink. ]
There was a body, in the river. Not human, which is strange for this place; Earth is a pre-spaceflight planet, really, and doesn't seem to have an otherwise occupied solar system. So either that has changed, and the information available here hasn't kept up - or we aren't on Earth at all. [ He'll take either, to be honest. ] It was shot with a hollow-point, and whatever was in it's system probably killed it based on my roommate's findings. He works at the hospital - [ Cassian explains, with a wave of his hand ] and is good people.
Anyway. Body, in the river, infected everyone in town through the water supply. Which tells me that we're isolated in more ways than one, and this might be as much about keeping people out as it is about keeping the rest of us in.
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[ Poe tops himself off again without thinking about it, not paying attention to how much he has or hasn't drunk. It's something to do with his hands.
He toasts Cassian and knocks the whole thing back recklessly, squinting and making a face after he swallows. ] Well. I think it's safe to say this sucks.