Look at me straight [COMPLETE]
WHO: Millions Knives (returntoeven) and Robin III (123youreit)
WHERE: A coffeehouse.
WHEN: March 24th, mid-afternoon.
WARNINGS: Nada.
SUMMARY: Knives has something to give Tim and uses it as an excuse to meet and talk some sense into the stressed-out teen.
FORMAT: AIM log thinger.
Knives: *Is sitting at a table, a cup of coffee already in hand as he waits for Tim to show up*
Tim: *Arrives in civvies - jeans and a long-sleeved black t-shirt. He gets a cup of coffee and makes his way over to sit at Knives's table.* Hey.
Knives: *Peers at Tim from his seat, scrutinizing without seeming to before nodding once in greeting* Robin.
Tim: *For all that he seems outwardly calm and composed, his body language is practically humming with stress and tiredness, concern, and... hurt, buried deep in there along with everything else. But he's hiding it all very well, and clearly interested in getting straight down to business.* You had something for me?
Knives: *Is not entirely convinced by Tim's facade, especially given past conversations and his own experiences, recent and past, but he leaves it alone for now. He reaches under his cloak and produces what seems to be a small, rectangular metal box about the size of a person's hand with a switch on the side, and hands it to Tim.* This.
Tim: *Accepts the... box? And turns it over in his hands, examining it with mildly expressed curiousity.* What is it?
Knives: *Taps a finger lightly on the table.* A device that should help neutralize Crane's ability to control others, if my theory regarding how he does it is correct.
Tim: *Eyebrow raise - he looks at the device with renewed intensity and lets out a low whistle after a moment.* I see. Thank you. How does it work?
Knives: *Steeples his fingers, his voice quiet.* There was a man in my homeworld - a non-psychic who could control others bodies at will. His 'method' involved the use of small, metallic threads invisible to the human eye that could send electrical signals to the victim's brain via the nervous system. That device *he points* is a miniature magnetic field generator, specially designed to counter such abilities. Its radius is somewhat limited, though, so it will only shield one person at a time. *He shrugs.* Assuming, of course, that Crane's powers are the same as the other one I know.
Tim: *Leans his chin in his hand, fingers tapping against his mouth as he thinks that over.* It does seem likely to be a similar power, from what we know. And if this device doesn't work against it, at least we can discount that theory. *He places the device into his pocket and smiles faintly.* I'm guessing you have one for yourself?
Knives: *Raises an eyebrow.* I don't, actually.
Tim: ... Huh. Why not?
Knives: Because I very much doubt I'll be dealing with Crane in person, and if I ever do again, he'll be dead before he can try anything remotely like it. *All of this said very casually.*
Tim: *Obviously not happy with the statement about killing Crane, but he knows better than to say anything, restraining himself to silent disapproval.* Hmm. Well, I hope he knows better than to try confronting you himself.
Knives: Considering our last meeting, I'm fairly sure he does. *He sips at his coffee, peering over the rim at his companion.* Been keeping tabs on him, have you?
Tim: Oh? Scared him, did you? *He allows himself a faint half-smirk before returning to a more neutral expression, nodding.* Of course.
Knives: *Shrugs* If I did, he hid it well enough. It's been known to happen. *A meaningful pause* And everything else?
Tim: I... yes, of course I have. Why?
Knives: *Doesn't answer, just LOOKS at him.*
Tim: *Leans back a little, chin lifting defiantly.* What?
Knives: *Raises an eyebrow but still says nothing.*
Tim: ... *Sighs* If you're trying to suggest that I can't handle it, you're mistaken.
Knives: *Skeptical* Because you look like you're handling it so well right now.
Tim: *Tightly* There a few... personal stressors involved, but I'm not letting it interfere with my work.
Knives: Just a few.
Tim: *Eyebrow twitch* That's right.
Knives: You're a terrible liar.
Tim: ... *Sighs* Only sometimes. Fine. Do you really want to know what has me... upset?
Knives: *Is quiet for a moment before answering, just evaluating him silently.* I do.
Tim: *Alright, he... wasn't actually expecting that from Knives, of all people. He's surprised for a moment, then sips his coffee silently. Eventually, he manages to speak, quietly.* Where... should I start?
Knives: *Normally, Knives would not do this. He is not a sympathetic person and tends to be terrible at these sorts of things in general because regular, human emotions aren't something he deals with well. However, his recent brush with madness has left him a bit more aware of such things than usual, and he figures - given what he knows of Tim's predicament - that's he's heading for a similar sort of breakdown unless something prevents it. That's why he's here, the device he made notwithstanding.* The beginning.
Tim: Ahh... hm. *That's a little complicated to determine, with Steph here and Batman - well, there's nothing to be proved or done about Batman, not yet. But the beginning, in terms of his time here in the city, and things Knives knows of - well, it's fairly easy to see what, in particular, he could be aiming to hear about.* I suppose that would be my... captivity. It's had a bit of a lingering effect, as these things tend to.
Knives: *Listens silently, his expression mostly neutral and edged with seriousness* You've had nightmares?
Tim: *Huffs a quiet breath out through his nose.* Yes. I always have nightmares, though, this is just - extra material.
Knives: What about?
Tim: From this... hm. *He shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat, clearly uncomfortable thinking about it, much less discussing it.* Captivity. Being trapped and helpless, in the dark. Hurt and alone... or not alone, but that's - just the usual ghosts.
Knives: *Frowns a little but otherwise maintains his neutrality.* And your captor?
Tim: *His eyebrow twitches, but otherwise he stays about the same - getting more detached, perhaps.* Mm. Yes. Looming and... taunting me, silently. Hurting me, because he could. Did. But they're just... nightmares. They'll pass.
Knives: *Is skeptical about this but keeps it to himself for the moment, scrutinizing Tim again.* Who else have you told this to?
Tim: ... No one.
Knives: And you're still trying to do everything else you believe needs to get done. *This is not a question, but rather a flatly-spoken statement.*
Tim: Of course I am. It's what I do.
Knives: *Leans forward a bit, looking...slightly dangerous.* At what cost?
Tim: *Stiffens, but... thinks about that.* My own, I suppose. It's nothing I'm unwilling to pay.
Knives: *His expression turns colder at those words.* And how long do you think you can keep this up before you snap?
Tim: I'm not going to snap. *His tone is quiet and apparently confident, but his grip on his coffee mug tightens significantly.*
Knives: If you keep this up, yes you will. *Significantly darker tone here, as well as a slight note of self-depreciation* Even those who pride themselves on their self-control eventually lose it. You're not any different.
Tim: *Slowly, grudgingly softens in his pose as well as his defiance, ending up looking a little... lost, though he was still fighting to keep that hidden.* Then what do you suggest I do to prevent it happening?
Knives: Find an outlet.
Tim: ... Hm. A little easier said than done.
Knives: *Not amused* Let me rephrase, then - you said you haven't spoken of this to anyone else, essentially meaning you've kept everything bottled up. Even the most basic psychology textbooks will tell you that's a recipe for disaster. So: find someone - a close friend or person you trust, whoever - to talk to about this. And *he looks at Tim pointedly here* take some time off.
Tim: *Laughs a little bitterly* My close friends... are walking reminders of their deaths. I'm getting better about dealing with that, but it's still uncomfortable. And, ah, as another little matter of distress - the girlfriend that I thought was dead showed up here, too, and it turns out that she was alive, in Africa, all this time. So you'll forgive me for finding it a little difficult to know who to talk to. *He shakes his head.* And crime doesn't take time off, so I can't.
Knives: *And that little speech REALLY manages to piss him off, his grip tightening around his own coffee mug until it cracks. He can't help it - death, after all, is a very sensitive subject for him, and he doesn't take kindly to having it rubbed in his face.* You're missing the point. *His voice is a low hiss.* The fact that they're dead in your time doesn't nullify their ability to care about or help you. Do you think they want you to think of them like that - as walking dead men instead of the friends you claim they are? *Coldly* Idiot. And I never said anything about disappearing for a week, now did I? Taking time off doesn't mean going on vacation - it means taking maybe a few hours out of the day to look after yourself instead of worrying about every other fucking thing that moves.
Tim: *The increase in Knives's usual intensity is palpable with the flaring of his temper, and Tim feels the familiar sensation of his skin wanting to jump off, vaguely. Despite that, and despite the way the words hit home, he manages to remain fairly cool. He looks down at his coffee and closes his eyes, effectively hiding any expression, though.* I... know they don't. We've had - this kind of discussion, it's just. It's still difficult, especially with the nightmares rubbing the images in my face every night. But I - I'll try. To talk to them, if I can. *He swallows and looks up slightly, through his bangs.* I already spend a little time meditating each day. I suppose I could... extend that.
Knives: *Stares at Tim coldly for a moment before some of the rage begins to just....trickle away. His grip on the cup loosens, and he looks down at the inky black liquid for a moment, silent as he regains his composure. He doesn't really know what else he can say that hasn't already been said so he settles for something simply, his voice quiet.* Whatever you think will help you most.
Tim: *Breathes out slowly* I will try to find something else, as well, but I think more meditation would be a good start. And... thank you for, ah. Caring, if that's not too strong a word.
Knives: *Makes a noncommittal noise and pinches the bridge of his nose, looking disgruntled.* It is.
Tim: *Tiiiiiny ghost of a smile.* Mm, well, for the... vague concern for my well-being. I appreciate it. *He drinks more of his coffee, still quiet and thoughtful.*
Knives: Hmn. *Looks at cracked cup for a moment, slightly annoyed, before going to get another one.*
AFTER WHICH THEY FINISHED THEIR COFFEE IN A RELATIVELY COMPANIONABLE SILENCE. THE END.
WHERE: A coffeehouse.
WHEN: March 24th, mid-afternoon.
WARNINGS: Nada.
SUMMARY: Knives has something to give Tim and uses it as an excuse to meet and talk some sense into the stressed-out teen.
FORMAT: AIM log thinger.
Knives: *Is sitting at a table, a cup of coffee already in hand as he waits for Tim to show up*
Tim: *Arrives in civvies - jeans and a long-sleeved black t-shirt. He gets a cup of coffee and makes his way over to sit at Knives's table.* Hey.
Knives: *Peers at Tim from his seat, scrutinizing without seeming to before nodding once in greeting* Robin.
Tim: *For all that he seems outwardly calm and composed, his body language is practically humming with stress and tiredness, concern, and... hurt, buried deep in there along with everything else. But he's hiding it all very well, and clearly interested in getting straight down to business.* You had something for me?
Knives: *Is not entirely convinced by Tim's facade, especially given past conversations and his own experiences, recent and past, but he leaves it alone for now. He reaches under his cloak and produces what seems to be a small, rectangular metal box about the size of a person's hand with a switch on the side, and hands it to Tim.* This.
Tim: *Accepts the... box? And turns it over in his hands, examining it with mildly expressed curiousity.* What is it?
Knives: *Taps a finger lightly on the table.* A device that should help neutralize Crane's ability to control others, if my theory regarding how he does it is correct.
Tim: *Eyebrow raise - he looks at the device with renewed intensity and lets out a low whistle after a moment.* I see. Thank you. How does it work?
Knives: *Steeples his fingers, his voice quiet.* There was a man in my homeworld - a non-psychic who could control others bodies at will. His 'method' involved the use of small, metallic threads invisible to the human eye that could send electrical signals to the victim's brain via the nervous system. That device *he points* is a miniature magnetic field generator, specially designed to counter such abilities. Its radius is somewhat limited, though, so it will only shield one person at a time. *He shrugs.* Assuming, of course, that Crane's powers are the same as the other one I know.
Tim: *Leans his chin in his hand, fingers tapping against his mouth as he thinks that over.* It does seem likely to be a similar power, from what we know. And if this device doesn't work against it, at least we can discount that theory. *He places the device into his pocket and smiles faintly.* I'm guessing you have one for yourself?
Knives: *Raises an eyebrow.* I don't, actually.
Tim: ... Huh. Why not?
Knives: Because I very much doubt I'll be dealing with Crane in person, and if I ever do again, he'll be dead before he can try anything remotely like it. *All of this said very casually.*
Tim: *Obviously not happy with the statement about killing Crane, but he knows better than to say anything, restraining himself to silent disapproval.* Hmm. Well, I hope he knows better than to try confronting you himself.
Knives: Considering our last meeting, I'm fairly sure he does. *He sips at his coffee, peering over the rim at his companion.* Been keeping tabs on him, have you?
Tim: Oh? Scared him, did you? *He allows himself a faint half-smirk before returning to a more neutral expression, nodding.* Of course.
Knives: *Shrugs* If I did, he hid it well enough. It's been known to happen. *A meaningful pause* And everything else?
Tim: I... yes, of course I have. Why?
Knives: *Doesn't answer, just LOOKS at him.*
Tim: *Leans back a little, chin lifting defiantly.* What?
Knives: *Raises an eyebrow but still says nothing.*
Tim: ... *Sighs* If you're trying to suggest that I can't handle it, you're mistaken.
Knives: *Skeptical* Because you look like you're handling it so well right now.
Tim: *Tightly* There a few... personal stressors involved, but I'm not letting it interfere with my work.
Knives: Just a few.
Tim: *Eyebrow twitch* That's right.
Knives: You're a terrible liar.
Tim: ... *Sighs* Only sometimes. Fine. Do you really want to know what has me... upset?
Knives: *Is quiet for a moment before answering, just evaluating him silently.* I do.
Tim: *Alright, he... wasn't actually expecting that from Knives, of all people. He's surprised for a moment, then sips his coffee silently. Eventually, he manages to speak, quietly.* Where... should I start?
Knives: *Normally, Knives would not do this. He is not a sympathetic person and tends to be terrible at these sorts of things in general because regular, human emotions aren't something he deals with well. However, his recent brush with madness has left him a bit more aware of such things than usual, and he figures - given what he knows of Tim's predicament - that's he's heading for a similar sort of breakdown unless something prevents it. That's why he's here, the device he made notwithstanding.* The beginning.
Tim: Ahh... hm. *That's a little complicated to determine, with Steph here and Batman - well, there's nothing to be proved or done about Batman, not yet. But the beginning, in terms of his time here in the city, and things Knives knows of - well, it's fairly easy to see what, in particular, he could be aiming to hear about.* I suppose that would be my... captivity. It's had a bit of a lingering effect, as these things tend to.
Knives: *Listens silently, his expression mostly neutral and edged with seriousness* You've had nightmares?
Tim: *Huffs a quiet breath out through his nose.* Yes. I always have nightmares, though, this is just - extra material.
Knives: What about?
Tim: From this... hm. *He shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat, clearly uncomfortable thinking about it, much less discussing it.* Captivity. Being trapped and helpless, in the dark. Hurt and alone... or not alone, but that's - just the usual ghosts.
Knives: *Frowns a little but otherwise maintains his neutrality.* And your captor?
Tim: *His eyebrow twitches, but otherwise he stays about the same - getting more detached, perhaps.* Mm. Yes. Looming and... taunting me, silently. Hurting me, because he could. Did. But they're just... nightmares. They'll pass.
Knives: *Is skeptical about this but keeps it to himself for the moment, scrutinizing Tim again.* Who else have you told this to?
Tim: ... No one.
Knives: And you're still trying to do everything else you believe needs to get done. *This is not a question, but rather a flatly-spoken statement.*
Tim: Of course I am. It's what I do.
Knives: *Leans forward a bit, looking...slightly dangerous.* At what cost?
Tim: *Stiffens, but... thinks about that.* My own, I suppose. It's nothing I'm unwilling to pay.
Knives: *His expression turns colder at those words.* And how long do you think you can keep this up before you snap?
Tim: I'm not going to snap. *His tone is quiet and apparently confident, but his grip on his coffee mug tightens significantly.*
Knives: If you keep this up, yes you will. *Significantly darker tone here, as well as a slight note of self-depreciation* Even those who pride themselves on their self-control eventually lose it. You're not any different.
Tim: *Slowly, grudgingly softens in his pose as well as his defiance, ending up looking a little... lost, though he was still fighting to keep that hidden.* Then what do you suggest I do to prevent it happening?
Knives: Find an outlet.
Tim: ... Hm. A little easier said than done.
Knives: *Not amused* Let me rephrase, then - you said you haven't spoken of this to anyone else, essentially meaning you've kept everything bottled up. Even the most basic psychology textbooks will tell you that's a recipe for disaster. So: find someone - a close friend or person you trust, whoever - to talk to about this. And *he looks at Tim pointedly here* take some time off.
Tim: *Laughs a little bitterly* My close friends... are walking reminders of their deaths. I'm getting better about dealing with that, but it's still uncomfortable. And, ah, as another little matter of distress - the girlfriend that I thought was dead showed up here, too, and it turns out that she was alive, in Africa, all this time. So you'll forgive me for finding it a little difficult to know who to talk to. *He shakes his head.* And crime doesn't take time off, so I can't.
Knives: *And that little speech REALLY manages to piss him off, his grip tightening around his own coffee mug until it cracks. He can't help it - death, after all, is a very sensitive subject for him, and he doesn't take kindly to having it rubbed in his face.* You're missing the point. *His voice is a low hiss.* The fact that they're dead in your time doesn't nullify their ability to care about or help you. Do you think they want you to think of them like that - as walking dead men instead of the friends you claim they are? *Coldly* Idiot. And I never said anything about disappearing for a week, now did I? Taking time off doesn't mean going on vacation - it means taking maybe a few hours out of the day to look after yourself instead of worrying about every other fucking thing that moves.
Tim: *The increase in Knives's usual intensity is palpable with the flaring of his temper, and Tim feels the familiar sensation of his skin wanting to jump off, vaguely. Despite that, and despite the way the words hit home, he manages to remain fairly cool. He looks down at his coffee and closes his eyes, effectively hiding any expression, though.* I... know they don't. We've had - this kind of discussion, it's just. It's still difficult, especially with the nightmares rubbing the images in my face every night. But I - I'll try. To talk to them, if I can. *He swallows and looks up slightly, through his bangs.* I already spend a little time meditating each day. I suppose I could... extend that.
Knives: *Stares at Tim coldly for a moment before some of the rage begins to just....trickle away. His grip on the cup loosens, and he looks down at the inky black liquid for a moment, silent as he regains his composure. He doesn't really know what else he can say that hasn't already been said so he settles for something simply, his voice quiet.* Whatever you think will help you most.
Tim: *Breathes out slowly* I will try to find something else, as well, but I think more meditation would be a good start. And... thank you for, ah. Caring, if that's not too strong a word.
Knives: *Makes a noncommittal noise and pinches the bridge of his nose, looking disgruntled.* It is.
Tim: *Tiiiiiny ghost of a smile.* Mm, well, for the... vague concern for my well-being. I appreciate it. *He drinks more of his coffee, still quiet and thoughtful.*
Knives: Hmn. *Looks at cracked cup for a moment, slightly annoyed, before going to get another one.*
AFTER WHICH THEY FINISHED THEIR COFFEE IN A RELATIVELY COMPANIONABLE SILENCE. THE END.