folkmeme | texts from folkmore; tffm

we can interrupt your spiraling journey through your past mistakes to gawk at my current one.

[she's cradling her right hand with her left, tightly against her chest, when she arrives. she knocks with her knee against the door, more as an alert to her arrival, before she slips right through and inside.

there's no blood, at least. just a very vivid burn.]

[He was blearily pulling on a sweatshirt over a T-shirt when he heard first the knock and then suddenly her footfalls. He looked grumpy as he came out of his bedroom.]

You know, most people tend to knock and wait to be let in instead of just breaking into people's houses!

[But since Ava had been raised by wolves and handlers, he'd give her a pass.]

Go sit down in the kitchen. I'll get the supplies we need.

You invited me... [meaning he both expected her visit and intended to allow her inside, so the whole waiting for the formality of him having to open the door when she could easily bypass that step feels... well, a weird technicality to get hung up on, doesn't it?

but she sits as instructed, feeling far too embarrassed about this whole incident. at least he hasn't asked the details.]

[Dex was afraid if he asked too many questions about what had happened, at least at first, she'd get angry, embarrassed, or both again and take off again. He didn't want to leave her having to deal with her injuries all on her own. He unscrewed a cap of burn cream and put some bandages on the table when he came back in.]

Let me see it. [He examined her hand for a moment without touching it.] You didn't put ice on it, did you?

I tried cold water, but it stung. So I didn't know if that would make it worse. [Ava tentatively holds out her hand, scorched palm upright for him to examine.]

I don't get injured often. Not like this. So I wasn't sure... [she feels a little ridiculous about not having any basic medical kit on hand, but her usual health issues aren't handled with creams or bandages.]

That was the right idea. Cold water can help but ice will just make a burn like this worse.

[He squeezed out some of the cream onto a tissue and started gently dabbing it onto Ava’s injury, grasping her hand with his own to keep it from moving around without even thinking about it.]

I’m glad you came over here instead of just trying to guess what needed to be done and making things worse.

[she hisses slightly between teeth, and a faint blur of her arm yanks out of his grasp while her actual one remains. she's used to pain, excruciating levels of it, but burning is a new sensation that she doesn't enjoy at all.]

If it were my leg, or... stomach, or face or whatever else, I wouldn't care as much. But I require use of my hands. [and thus far more concern for it healing up properly.]

How long does something like this take...?

I get it. I'd be the same way if it happened to me

[If Dex lost use of his hands or arms for any reason, he'd be fucked given his overall skillset.

After he'd slathered the burn in ointment, he started carefully wrapping up her hand with a bandage.]

A week or two. Just keep it clean and change the bandage while putting on more ointment daily.

Ugh, that's forever. [given it's her dominant hans.

once the initial shock of pain fades into something more manageable, Ava's left noticing how his touch seems far more gentle than a lot of the previous interactions between them. where contact had ranged from her headbutting him to him shooting bullets through her.

she looks at him. glances away. nods.] You do a lot of first aid, in the FBI? [because he certainly seems practiced.]

The time will fly right on by. Especially if you end up involved in more of the weird shit that goes on around here.

[The fact he kept getting involved in said weird shit with her did make him pause for a moment as he wondered if the two of them might end up in yet another strange situation where Thirteen wanted them to talk to one another. Granted, he certainly wasn't going to mind that, not now that he was starting to develop a genuine fondness for Ava.]

The FBI? No. Not much there. The Army? Yes. There wasn't always a medic around for the small cuts and scrapes we all got, so it paid to know how to patch each other up.

Been trying not to, but it seems to catch me anyway.

[a pause.] But at least it's less annoying when it's with you. [or does that sound too...]

Ah. Must feel different, when you have other people you're fighting alongside. I only ever operated alone. Only trained to hurt, never... help. [and she just leaves her hand outstretched, even as he finishes with the bandaging.]

[He paused and looked up at her when she said going through the things Thirteen had put them through was less annoying when it was with him. He thought about questioning that but thought maybe he shouldn't. Maybe he'd misinterpret what she was saying again and they'd end up in a big wicked fight again.

Dex gratefully moved onto another subject. Talking about his time in the Army was one of the few things that didn't always felt like it hurt inside of him.]

I've never been good at trusting people. But when you're in the Army, you have to learn to trust the guy next to you with your life. Otherwise, you'll end up dead. And I learned to protect them all because they were doing the same thing for me.

[He absentmindedly kept his hand on Ava's after he finished bandaging it up, not really paying attention to the present moment as he thought back to the way his life had gone since he'd chosen to go into the Army at eighteen instead of trying out any other career path.]

That's why I joined up to begin with. The Army and the FBI helped keep me on the right path for a long time. If I couldn't get rid of the thing inside of me that kept wanting to kill people, at least I could control it by only killing bad people and keeping good people safe from them.

[the lack of response is noted, seems to confirm that she should have kept it to herself. they never seemed to talk about it afterward. maybe that was the proper etiquette regarding stumbling straight into one another's trauma...

luckily there isn't too much time to dwell and overthink on it, listening as he willingly talks about his time in the army and the sense of shared responsibility for the lives of the soldiers around him. it makes sense, given what she's learned about the way his mind functioned, that such a structure would benefit. not based in empathy or feelings, but a collective mission to focus on and accomplish.]

I think it's easier to keep track of who is meant to be good or bad when there's clear cut sides, huh. Don't have to think much harder about who has kids at home, who is good to their family and community, who is a liar or a cheat or... Morality is so relative, clouded by so many competing religions and philosophies and outright hypocrisy. Almost all of human history has functioned this way. On some form of tribalism, where our human instinct is the same as any other animal's. To protect what we see as ours, family and land and resources, against all outsiders. Modern culture likes to pretend our nature is above it, that humans are somehow enlightened beyond that intrinsic need to put our own interests and safety first. By people that have lived comfortably enough to not know what it really means to survive beyond making a paycheck.

I think they take it for granted that there wouldn't be a country, laws to protect them, if it weren't for people like us doing the dirty work. They're selfish, far more so. They're just not willing to admit it.

Sometimes I think I was just born in the wrong era. Having someone who could make judgments about who lived and died in terms of a group must have been an advantage when everyone lived in caves and hunted woolly mammoths. Someone like me could have made the hard choices everyone else couldn't and keep as many people alive while getting rid of the weak ones that would drag everyone down without worrying about feeling guilty about it afterwards.

[He still hadn't pulled his hand away, not when he'd gotten so focused on the conversation at hand.]

In the modern world all they see me as is some kind of monster, a face to use when they want to remember the world is cruel and death comes for everyone without distinction.

Mn, I think when battles were fought closer to home, it was less an abstract idea of soldiers going off to save our freedoms, but an immediate reality of the necessity of protection. That people appreciated. When they didn't get their meat packed neatly in plastic from the grocery, but had to raise or hunt and slaughter their own, they couldn't squirm so much about the cruelty. The majority of people live so comfortably where they don't have to get their hands dirty, yet still benefit from a society that only functions because others are doing it behind closed curtains.

[at some point along the way she gently brushes her thumb over his palm, and then stills again, not wanting to draw too much attention that might result in him pulling away. because this is soothing, despite the topic of conversation. a simple touch that has no further intent behind it.]

You're not a monster, just because they got a peak into the inner workings of reality. They're just spoiled and naive and believe in a fairytale version of the world that doesn't and never has actually existed.

But if you had to live in another era, I think a cowboy hat would suit you.

They could all do with being up close with a battlefield right outside their doorsteps. Maybe then they'd get a bit more appreciative instead of being fucking hypocrites up there on their high horses, looking down on everyone with judgment they haven't earned in being able to cast on others.

[Dex now definitely felt Ava's thumb running along his hand. But by now this deep into the conversation it felt more like a comfortable gesture than anything else, so he didn't pull away.

He grinned and completely brightened up when Ava said she thought he'd look good in a cowboy hat.]

Really? You think so? I always have liked Westerns a lot.

But... I think the weak can be worth protecting. There's other sorts of value they can bring to a community. For me, it's the greedy that need to go. The hoarders of wealth, of resources, that would rather watch others suffer without. Those that try to own other people.

[she's glad there's at least somebody to share in the bitterness with, how difficult it was for people like them to fit into society.]

Of course, the fastest draw in town. You'd either have your face on one of those wanted posters, or cashing in on the bounties.

[a small laugh, her hand slips intangible for the brief moment of lost concentration. she quickly tries to latch tighter onto his hand to anchor back to physical reality. except. the burn. she hisses lightly in protest, and pulls her hand away.]

That's a perfect description of Fisk right there. Ruining lives left and right to improve his own. I would love to see him go up against you. When his charm and persuasiveness fails, he tries to use his physical strength to get what he wants. He'd be furious being unable to touch or even see you.

[The big gorilla in the white suit would be completely outmatched when it came to facing Ghost.]

I'd just need to learn how to ride a horse and I'd be all set.

[He felt that prickly feeling on the back of his neck when her hand phased involuntarily through his. Then he saw her pull away, realizing the burn still had to be painful for her. He paused for a moment and then decided to ask something to help shift the moment away from that awkwardness.]

What were you trying to cook anyway?

Charm rarely works much on me at all, anyway. [or at least the sorts that most people would fall for. the lack of socialization makes her vulnerable in some ways, to being outmaneuvered by those with far more influence than her. but. Ava's also on high alert for manipulation tactics, and people trying to be too outwardly charming...] Triggers my paranoia too much. But it's probably for the best he isn't here, I've been doing good without getting my hands too dirty.

[okay, so she stomped through Alexei's heart, but that was just on the train so did it even really count. and technically not her hands.]

Never ridden a horse either. Think it'd try to toss me right off. [because she always expects animals to be spooked out over her powers... which does make her nervous about the upcoming meeting of Yelena's dog despite reassurances.]

Oh. An omelet. A robot made a comment about needing to crack a few eggs, and I thought, well. I'm capable of doing that.

If he was here, I'd ask you to rip his heart out of his chest. [It said something how badly Dex wanted him to suffer given he wasn't a sadist for all that his psychopathy made him enjoy death. Most of his kills were quick, one shot or object thrown at the head with the person immediately dropping dead. But for Wilson Fisk? He'd happily stand by and watch as his heart was torn out while it was still beating.]

An omelet? [He gave Ava a questioning look as if wondering how she managed to so badly mess up what was essentially a very easy thing to cook. But after seeing how her whole life had been managed for her by her handlers up until very recently, he wasn't about to judge her too hard.] I could show you how to make one. Once your hand isn't burnt.

I would. [no real hesitation, which surprises her. she's wary of anything that might seem like an order, to utilize her as a weapon. but this doesn't. feels like something more, a protective instinct perhaps.]

Yes, a few eggs in a pan, flip it... didn't seem too difficult, in theory. But I... [a frustrated sigh.] Was struggling figuring out the flipping part. Ended up losing grip of the handle. And then my reflexes were unfortunately faster than my sense, because I grabbed for it- [yeah she realizes it's dumb, thanks.] Anyway the omelet ended up tasting like singed rubber. [which is her way of saying yes, please, rather than accepting the offer outright.]

You would? [He echoed. He was a bit surprised but Ava was the one who knew his history with Kingpin the best by now and knew exactly why that man was deserving of all the hatred that came his way.] That's a nice offer.

[Which would have been a very creepy thing to be saying had it been coming from anyone but Dex given the way his brain was wired.

He shook his head a little hearing Ava's mishaps. He was going to have to teach her how to cook if only to make sure she stayed physically safe. If she couldn't manage a simple omelet, he thought she might burn her trailer down if she tried to do something like make meatloaf.]

I'll show you your way around the kitchen. Come by once in a while at lunchtime and I'll give you some lessons.

Of course. And I'd hand it to you after I ripped it straight through his chest. Just so you could be sure. So you could feel the last few futile beats before it finally gives out. [and she means it, doesn't think it's creepy at all to offer such protection of her... friend? is that what they are.

it's the offer of the cooking lessons that make her far more nervous. or at least that's how she interprets the little uptick in her heartbeat.] ... Just, whenever? [that's such an open invitation.]

That's one of the nicest things anyone has offered to do for me.

[Despite it also being a terribly violent and gory hypothetical bit of kindness, Dex couldn't help but be touched by it. No one had ever cared about his happiness so much they'd offered to murder someone for him. He liked that feeling. He liked it a lot.]

Sure. But only if you want. [He interpreted her nervousness as maybe being uncomfortable with Dex being so forward with his offer. Though he hoped she'd take him up on it. He liked having Ava around now, seeing her on a near-daily basis since they were neighbors.]

Help even things out a little, with what you've done for me.
[a glance down to inspect her bandaged up hand, to avoid giving too much away.]

I do! [a bit surprised at how quick she is to clarify.] I do want to. But I think... specifically planned days. Might work better. [otherwise the doubt of whether any particular day might be a good one or not won't prevent her from actually going because she's talked herself out of it a good half dozen times before it's too late in the date not to be lunch anymore. or what if she starts coming by too often and bothering him?]

texts from folkmore; tffm

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