IC contact for lastvoyages

[cactusy]

[If I don't have an active post up, feel free to use this post to have your character call, videochat, text, or knock on Shaw's door.]

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[littletonoidea]

Eiffel lands and lets Neal storm away; he just leans on the door, pulling his hairtie out so he can play with his own hair too. He really wants a cigarette.

"Okay," he sighs, all volume gone and replaced with exhaustion. "From the top. What the hell does or does not Malcolm have to do with this?"

[cactusy]

Shaw knows that she shouldn't talk, and so she doesn't: she just digs her shoulderblades down against the couch, closing her eyes.

[conning]

Neal stays facing away, hands in his hair. He closes his eyes, waits, goes ever-tenser in the ongoing silence. This is not--

For God's sake, for God's sake, he just wants her to say something, anything. Wants her to let him have the remotest clue of where they actually stand right now.

[littletonoidea]

Neither of them can see Eiffel's face, so they don't get to see how the concern flickers quickly into frustration, and then resolve. And that comes with a small, determined huff.

"Alright. I didn't wanna have to do this, but you guys leave me no choice." And he lifts both arms, and gets his hair tie in optimal snapping position. "I am the undisputed champion of hair tie snap tricks on the USS Hephaestus for the last three years running."

His eyes narrow as he looks down the sights of his arm, levelling his arm steadily between Shaw and Neal.

"The next person to say something that isn't telling me what the hell's going on is getting one right between the eyes. And if you're gonna question my aim, if I've fired five hair ties or six, ask yourself this: am I feeling lucky? Punks?"

[cactusy]

Eiffel, honey, do you have any idea how many times Shaw has been shot with actual bullets.

She opens her eyes and flicks her gaze towards him, and she should laugh, would laugh under different circumstances, would laugh if she could--

"I'm trying to minimize damage," she says, looking a little uncomfortable.

[conning]

If Eiffel is listening, carefully, closely, he might hear the softest exhalation of irritation and amusement from Neal.

Of course, then Shaw says that, and Neal turns around before he can think to stop himself. "Minimi-- What do you think I'm angry at you for, Shaw?"

[littletonoidea]

Eiffel doesn't say anything, but his arm cannon gets pointed back at Shaw with a raised eyebrow.

[cactusy]

"Saying I don't think you're objective about Bright. Saying I think you prioritize his comfort over other people's."

In short, not keeping her big mouth shut about her opinions.

[conning]

Neal closes his eyes, then lifts his fingers and pinches the bridge of his nose. He does everything in his power to ignore the way Eiffel's shootin' hand comes swinging back around to point at Neal.

"Why do you think that made me angry?"

[cactusy]

"Because you don't agree," Shaw says, her brow crinkling a little. Obviously. Why else would he be angry?

cw mention of suicidal ideation/jumping ship

[conning]

Neal lets out a barely-audible "For fuck's sake, exhaled in fresh frustration.

"Because you weren't listening to me. You ignored everything I said in opposition of that opinion, didn't even think about what I'd said as far as I could tell. Even after I told you the only reason you think I'm biased in that particular way is because you don't see the conversations I have with him, because humiliating him in public happens so fucking often here and back home that the absolute only thing it does is tell him he's a freak who can't learn how to talk to anyone."

He gestures as he speaks, small curt movements he's totally unconscious of. "What I do for Malcolm is the same thing I did for Lestat, it's the same thing I'm about to do for fucking Johann because those of us wardens not directly dealing with a crisis were so far up our own assholes we didn't even stop to remember that the most recent murder victim just had their warden fucking disappear on them!"

He takes a breath. "It's what I can't-- I can't help doing, because I know what it's like to be that person. I can't just let it happen and let people decide they might as well..." He forces himself to take another quiet breath. "If they need someone to be on their side, loudly and visibly on their side so they don't choose to jump the railing like I did before I knew you or pretty much any of my friends now--then that's what I'm going to fucking do."

He turns away again, to brace his hands against a counter or the back of the nearest chair.

[cactusy]

"That's not--"

She makes a small, frustrated sound in the back of her throat.

"I was listening. The reason I think you're biased isn't the reason you assumed I had, or the one you argued against. Wanting to take the side of whoever seems the most downtrodden is bias. I'm not saying that as a, uh, a value judgement, it's not a bad thing, but it's emotional decision-making."

She inhales, sharply and quietly.

"I do think it's because you're passionate and big-hearted. And just because it frustrates me sometimes doesn't mean I don't admire you for it. I admire you deeply for it."

[conning]

All the temper drains from him at once.

"You goddamn idiot," he says softly. "So are you."

[cactusy]

"I'm... what?" she asks, feeling very much like she's missed something.

[littletonoidea]

"Passionate and big-hearted?" Eiffel echoes wryly.

And he certainly looks a lot less tense about the whole situation; he's even lowered his 'weapon', and starts tying his hair up again. "Just 'cos you're not going around screaming from the rooftops like the boys' locker room line-up are, doesn't mean you're not feeling it, Aunt Sam. Just means the rest of us aren't prepared when it's your turn to start on a nice gourmet foot."

[conning]

Neal rubs his face tiredly. "I swear to god I have been trying to do this as delicately as I know how, but Sameen, that your brain doesn't tell you what your body already knows doesn't mean the feelings aren't there. You can be one of the least objective people I know. Everything you do is emotionally driven, everything. You assume objectivity because you can't identify what you're feeling and assume bias in the rest of us when some of us can. The reality of it is you can't tell if you're being objective because you've never learned to separate how you feel from what you feel."

He sighs. The faintest, most aggravated, loving smile flutters across his face. "You told me Malcolm hurt you--crossed several lines. You made that very clear. You said he does it to others. And there are times that he does. But pretty much everyone else I know who's had struggles with Malcolm has been able to talk through them with him and move on."

He walks slowly over to sit down on the couch next to her. "He hurt you somehow, I'm not going to make you share. But you're so dead set fixed on the idea that you're objective simply because your emotional experience is different than the..." he gestures at himself "...louder ones among us--you haven't given yourself any time or grace to figure out where that hurt comes from and how it can actually be resolved."

He tentatively, experimentally puts a hand on her arm. "And you didn't fail Will. What happened has nothing to do with how closely you were watching him and everything to do with this boat being packed to the bow with unstable personalities under pressure."

[cactusy]

Oh god, this is exhausting. It's exhausting to realize how wrongly Neal is reading her, how wrongly Neal has maybe been always reading her, and she doesn't even know how to begin to unpack and untangle this, not when any misstep could send him flying back into a fury. It's like death by a thousand cuts, she thinks: anger followed by sympathy based on false pretenses followed, presumably, by disgust when the unstable sands underneath his conclusions shift away.

Just the anger would have been better. Anger and a quick, decisive cut-off was better than a slow deterioration will be. But she'll try to explain, because what the hell else can she do.

"You're wrong about... basically all of that," she says tiredly, with no real expectation that she's going to be believed, at least not yet. "Malcolm didn't hurt me. I know Malcolm thinks I hate him, and maybe he even told you that I was making my decisions about Will because I have an unresolved grudge against him and want to hurt him, but I don't. How I feel about Malcolm is complex, but it isn't confusing, and isn't the basis for my wardening of Will. How I feel about you is confusing."

Completely wrecked over Neal Caffrey, and she's not even a little bit aware of it says her sign. Shaw sees the lights blink on out of the corner of her eye, but she ignores them.

"I don't want to hurt you, and I know how easily it is to do that when Malcolm comes up. I should have redirected when we talked about this before."

[conning]

"Those were two separate but related statements. He doesn't think you hate him. He thinks you're indifferent to him, which for him in some ways hurts more. What he is, is afraid of having his access to someone he loves revoked because their connection is deemed too risky or complicated for the current situation. The same way some might look at your relationship with Root in different circumstances."

He glances at her sign, he can't help himself. A pause, as a blank and startled look crosses his face. "Come here."

Neal gives her arm a gentle tug, trying to make her sit up so he can give her a proper hug.

[cactusy]

Shaw chuckles on an exhale; it's a crackly, worn-out sound.

"Indifferent is the last thing I am towards Malcolm Bright."

But she lets him pull her: not exactly actively participating in the sitting-up process, but not bothered by his efforts in the least.

[conning]

He sighs, hugging her tight, a bear-hug embrace that doesn't leave room between them for doubt of how he feels. "You're an idiot."

[cactusy]

Oh boy, a bear hug is a lot. Even as zoned out as she is, Shaw has to resist the urge to wiggle - but she does, because Neal is important and he is worth enduring uncomfortable things.

[littletonoidea]

Eiffel's perfectly happy to keep letting his siblings have their moment, but maybe he wants in on the hug too.

He's not gonna crowd Shaw, though; but he does come over and lean on the couch, giving Shaw a quick squeeze of one shoulder and ruffling Neal's hair.

"While I hate to break up the Caballero's comeback tour, it kinda feels like we glossed over a few things." He rests his elbows on the couch as he loosely folds his arms, and turns a concerned look at Neal. "Did you seriously jump over the rails?"

[conning]

Ah fuck. Neal releases Shaw carefully, sighing. "This conversation isn't actually over yet, either."

[cactusy]

Shaw says nothing: she just shifts away when Neal releases her, then carefully adjusts so that her arm is leaning against his, and waits for an answer to Eiffel's question.

[littletonoidea]

"Seeing as how Shaw's word of the day announcement says she's worried about you," he reminds Neal, with a light nod towards Shaw's lovely neon sign, "I think it's still pretty relevant."