thoughtformed | [text]

[The lack of enthusiasm is one thing; the words themselves are another. For a moment, she can't help but pity him, though she doesn't let that cross into her features.]

For the best then in this case.

[Never mind that she does feel bad about him not being not so cheery anymore. Franky, he was far more fun to talk to when they had lost their memories. Then again, she's not so pleasant now that she has her own back, so she can't exactly blame him for his current disposition.]

Even if it wasn't magic, though.

[He pauses, looking at her curiously before checking over his shoulder as though someone might be watching their exchange. He probably has more to worry about with the possibility of someone watching the network itself, but seeing as he's not the best with technology yet, that doesn't quite click with him.]

Something is out there that's powerful enough to make something like that happen on a large scale. ... dangerous.

[She's quiet for a few, long moments, contemplating what he says. She opens her mouth to speak, but stops short, making the decision to change her response.]

It seriously better not be. I think I've had enough of "dangerous" for one lifetime.

Edited 2013-01-01 02:34 (UTC)

Danger never goes away. No matter where we are. It's always a part of life. Safety is a lie.

[And that's the gospel according to Connor.]

Yeah, well, it doesn't have to be big, bad danger bullshit, does it?

Why can't it be normal "try not to get mugged on the way home or rear-end the boot of a car" danger?

[Her voice raises in frustration; it's certainly not directed at Connor, but rather referencing past experience.]

It doesn't have to be, but it usually is.

What's the boot of a car? Cars don't have feet.

Maybe this time is not. [She's stubbornly clinging to that hope, at least.]

Oh, wot do you yanks call it... You know, the boot. The back where you put your groceries and luggage and shit.

Uh... the back?

[He knows nothing about cars.]

I'm pretty sure it's just called the back.

There was some other word, but who knows.

[She shrugs.]

Anyways, hitting someone's boot is bad news; you have to pay the owner to get it fixed, then you have to deal with family and friends giving you shit about it, and then the front of your own car is mangled.

Not fun.

That sounds like a lot of trouble just for hitting a boot.

I'll take demons any day. I can just kill them.

First magic, now demons... would you please just make up your mind? I'm having a hard time telling wot kind of mental you are.

[Sorry, Connor; she honestly doesn't mean to be mean, she just has a hard time dealing with any sort of upset, frustration included.]

I have enough shit to figure out now without you flip-flopping on me.

Magic and demons go together.

[He frowns, troubled.]

I'm not flipping.

Harry Potter never had to fight demons.

[Well, there you have it, Connor; she clearly doesn't understand that the magic he's talking about might not be the Hollywood hocus pocus she's seen around.]

And I'm the Virgin Mary.

Who's Harry Potter?

[And just color him even more confused.]

That's not funny.

[His foster-father taught him to take religion very seriously.]

Oh, for fuck's sake... [Okay, she can't hold back this eyeroll.] Even if you don't read, there's an entire movie series on the bloke.

And I'm not trying to be funny. If I was trying to be funny, I would have gone, "ha, ha," or something.

[He looks annoyed, finally. Sarcasm doesn't always escape him, and it's finally clicking. He can toss it right back, too.]

We don't get a lot of movies in hell. Guess they think they won't sell there or something.

You shouldn't say things like that about any of the saints.

Obviously; Netflix doesn't deliver to mental hospitals.

Wot? You afraid Jesus is going to smite me from the heavens? [She scoffs, mumbling.] Bit late for that.

I've never been to one of those.

And no. He hasn't decided to smite me yet, and I'm an abomination. You're probably safe.

[She's about to snark about her disbelief, but something stops her: the realization that after their whole little amnesia bonding episode, she actually doesn't want to believe he's a psychopath. For now, she drops the "mental" thing.]

Yeah, well, be glad you weren't in England a few months ago. You might have been.

Maybe.

[He can't argue that. Not even a little. Something else comes to mind, and he suddenly looks uncomfortable again.]

You liked me better without my memories.

Yeah, well, you weren't spewing shit about danger, and demons, and magic.

[Actually, that had very little -if anything- to do with why she liked him sans-memory.]

Only because I didn't know. I never would have lasted a day in Quor'toth like that.

But you're not in Queeroth or however you say it. Might I remind you that you did just fine without all that crap.

Quor'toth. And Los Angeles wasn't any better. This place, maybe. But there's still danger here.

From wot I hear, LA's a shithole. And I heard you the first time.

But you didn't run into any danger without your memories, did you?

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