thoughtformed | [text]

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?

I did. I fought a zombie. A man called Low Key helped me.

Okay, first off, whoever named their kid Low Key has serious issues.

Second... are you serious?

That's just what he said his name was. And yes. I fought it and he conjured a spear of ice to finish it off.

[Just no filter for this kind of stuff.]

[She physically stops herself from spewing out her first thing that comes to mind, which essentially boils down to "bullshit".

Remember, Alisha... storm shitheads. Low Key is probably just another one. Inhale, exhale... okay, better.]

Right.

Guess I was right about your whole... [She gestures to all of him] appearance being a good front. Because honestly? You do not physically look like you could fight "zombies".

Edited 2013-01-02 17:53 (UTC)

[He smiles, but it's not the boyish expression he had worn when he had forgotten his memories. It was dangerous, predatory, and didn't quite reach his eyes.]

I'm a lot stronger than I look.

[Alisha mutters:] You aren't the only one.

[She doesn't smile back. If anything, her tone is laced with bitterness; however, it's not directed at him or even herself... well, maybe a little bit with the latter.]

Anyways. I'm glad one of us made it out alright... even though you're still going on about weird shit, I guess it's a good thing you're back to normal.

...As normal as you seem to get, anyways.

One of us?

[His expression quickly shifts to one of question and concern when he catches her words.]

Did you get hurt, Alisha?

L-look, it was nothing, alright?

[Okay, she's not the best liar. Not in the least.]

I just don't think I want to talk about it right now. Still glad you're okay, but I don't want to talk.

[His face hardens. That was an obvious lie. People don't stutter when they tell the truth.]

... I want to know who hurt you. They'll regret it.

Trust me, it's complicated. [Her voice turns weary.] Way more complicated than I'd like.

I don't want to sound bitchy, but it's really not your job to be my Superman. Besides, I still need to talk to him about wot happened. It's just...

[She shakes her head, unable to find the right words and unable to find a way to voice what she wants to say... especially in a way that wouldn't incriminate and give away her old date's name.] It's nothing. Don't worry about it, okay?

[He frowns, conflicted. 'Complicated.' That was the word people always used when they knew the situation was bad, knew they were in danger, but didn't want to admit it. At least, that had come to be his interpretation.

For a moment, he was reminded of Cordelia. She had used that word a lot. Used it to push him away.

It still hurt.]

... I want to help. I don't like seeing you upset.

... we're friends.

[She doesn't want to push him away; well, figuratively at least. She just prefers to keep her heart a safe distance away from the people around her. Though it probably doesn't do her much good, she also prefers to handle this particular thing on her own.]

You can't help; I know that sounds shit, but it's probably true. It's between me and him. There's a lot of bullshit that needs to be cleared up.

[She quiets for a moment, those words resonating in her ears. "We're friends." It's a phrase she hasn't heard in a long time; her friendships have either been shallow or the bond went unspoken. There's something about hearing it though; it almost hurts. Her gaze travels down again, away from the video screen.]

I'm not much of a friend, I hate to tell you.

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