"Only if you touch something on my side of the lab without asking," he said. "Otherwise, I don’t mind. Not like you’re spying for the Kaiju or anything. And if you are—no offense, but I thought you’d be a lot bigger."
And laughed at his own little joke as he went back to the Kaiju organ he’d been poking around it. He let her walk around the room, looking at things. He was never one to suppress curiosity, so he let her look at whatever.
"Yeah, that is," he said. "I mean, aside from the line down the center of the room, isn’t the decor pretty obvious? Totally cold and boring. Just like he is. Makes me wanna go over there and mess with his equations, but I’m not ready for another earful just yet."
”Pretty sure if I touched anything on your side of the lab, it’d bite me,” Johanna remarked, looking at more of the entrails with a distance than Newt showed. Okay look, it wasn’t that she was scared, but the fact of the matter is, no matter how much dissecting a piece of monsters knocked it down a bit, it was still a monster. And this monster was an alien. Who the hell knew what kind of alien things it could do, even when dead?
Johanna didn’t know. Afterall, jack of all trades. There’s nothing in this room that she had a particular knowledge of and all the information made her head hurt. (And it wasn’t like she could fight them –– that was for Rangers in Jaegers. Hah.)
”Number one Kaiju spy, you found me out,” She told him, laughing. “They wanted some undercover top secret information, so they sent me in human skin. Beware. Category eight, unheard of by your standards, laying dormant inside this skin.” She rolled her eyes at her own joke, and continued wandering and looking at Hermann’s equations.
Yeah, the line and the decor alone gave off the two different sides of the room as well as the practical versus statistical research material. Not a speck of actual Kaiju on his side (except for the drop of gunk that fell onto Hermann’s side. Johanna kicked it a bit further away from the line and onto his side, smirking).
”He gets mad if you mess with his stuff? Do you do that a lot?” She asked Newt, looking closer at the equations. No, she doesn’t understand a fucking thing. It’s frustrating, really, to see the capacity at which a brain can hold and how infinitely small it made Johanna Mason feel. Titanic aliens were destroying the world, but she never felt so tiny as when she saw just how many multitudes could be contained in a brain –– that wasn’t hers. Flickers of anger, maybe it was directed at herself, came around. Why did the fate of the world have to possibly depend on this stupid chalkboard? Oh, she wanted to erase it all.
That should be a comfort, right? The sun should be a comfort. But it’s just as bad as the darkness because when you’ve traveled as close to the sun as they have you learn to fear both. Wedged into a tiny ship fronted by a bomb and hurtling through space towards a dying star. A dying star that is still unimaginably hot.
His hands move to hers, holding on for dear life. What the hell is wrong with him? He feels like his chest is closing up, like he can’t breathe, and he can’t stop himself from bringing his left hand up. But there’s no frostbite. He’s okay. He didn’t just get shot out of a fucking airlock.
Another spasm of pain rolls through his leg and his teeth grind together, Mace’s head falling forward against Jo’s shoulder. She’s the rock in the middle of all of this and he doesn’t bother hiding the fact that he needs her right now, his arms wrapping around her waist because all he can see is Cassie and Capa and Pinbacker.
He folds into her. It’s odd maybe, in some other kind of thought process, how he’s muscles and straight backs and Mace, but he folds into her quickly, easily. She moves to hold him, to be the support he needs even if she doesn’t know how. Obviously she doesn’t know how. She wanted him to look outside and see the sun –– see how bright it was, see how they weren’t there, slowly hurtling towards it with a fucking bomb, how the mission was a success and how they were both still alive and on Earth.
Days like this it feels like maybe Pinbacker sent them into a sort of purgatory of whatever god he found amongst the stardust, the two of them voids just searching, searching, searching, until –– until fucking what? But it can’t be. They made it, they fucking made it and they’re still alive. They put each other back together with gauze and sutures, listened to each other’s breathing pretending to be asleep, grasped at each other in their underwear and under blankets to try and store body heat they both didn’t have. And not that much has changed. Well –– they’re back on Earth. But they’re grasping onto each other now, and all Johanna could think of is that night where their stitches were still new. She’s holding onto him, arms around his back and tucking his head underneath hers, just as hard as he holds onto her.
”Mace, just take deep breaths,” She tells him, speaking in a low, low voice. She moves her head to rest it on his back, so he can feel her words through him. She closes her eyes and tries to imagine the book in her hands that she’s thinking of.
Old old old, the last time it was reprinted years ago. There’s a coffee stain on the first page from her father, a tear on the table of contents. It’s an edition that also has Thoreau’s “On the Duty of Civil Disobedience,” But Johanna never got around to reading that one. No, she didn’t ever really make it past trying to teach herself to read through Walden in that book, did she?
”’When I wrote the following pages, or rather the bulk of them, I lived alone, in the woods, a mile from any neighbor, in a house which I had built myself, on the shore of Walden Pond, in Concord, Massachusetts, and earned my living by the labor of my hands only. I lived there two years and two months. At present I am a sojourner in civilized life again.’" She recites the first lines of Walden aloud, close to Mace’s ear. She told him of this piece of her –– slightly, slightly. It’s the most personal piece of herself that she ever gave to a person. And isn’t this just intimate? Holding him, saying these words. It’s stupid maybe, and she doesn’t know if it can help, but she’s never gotten through how to support something other than plant–life. These words are calming for her though, reading them to –– when ––– it was the only way to hold onto how to breathe it felt like at times.
you have the best taste in music it’s how i know you’re awesome ( among other things )
this pleases me i live to be told i have good music taste tbh
tell me which part of yourself
you hate the most
so I know exactly where to plant my lips
every time I see you
psa ;; i serve/manage at an irish pub so the month of march = st paddy’s month. i am going to be ridiculously busy with this probably (and also probably drunk), especially this week.
one day someone will get possessive over me when i rp with other people.
”Don’t know what you’re talking about, dog.”
[ Chuck can’t be bothered pretending to be good or nice anymore. So maybe he and Johanna brought out the worst in each other— but it’s not exactly like Chuck cares about that shit anymore.
They’re young and they’re invincible and that’s really all Chuck cares about. ]
“The day Chuck Hansen falls in love— take me out back and put me down, you understand?” [ It’s not in the cards for him. He refuses to let it be. ] “Well, whatever. Tim-Tom probably isn’t gonna come around anymore. Onto the next one?”
[ Their friendship works for her because fuck, it’s good to live within the bad parts of yourself and someone else. Because humans aren’t all these inherently good, full of hopes and dreams and sparkly things, are they? No. Jealousy and anger and hatred runs in veins, and the two of them don’t fucking hide it. People hate that about them, and maybe they should look in a fucking mirror before they cast that kind of judgement on the two of them, hmm?
Johanna’s laughing at Chuck’s comment. ]
”Let’s have a pact then –– if either of us fucking do, ever try to use the L–word, the other puts them out of their misery.” [ It’s unthinkable, the idea that someone in the world would deal with Johanna Mason’s bullshit. It’s not possible. It doesn’t matter how many fucking people exist out there. And Johanna isn’t looking to ever let someone fucking in. The world would end before that, end seeing as where the world seemed to be going, well –– ]
”Onto the next, heartbreaker. And so we beat on.”
[ Ariadne tried to not look as annoyed as she felt. Johanna might feel like she didn’t have much to lose, but Ariadne knew there were a lot of pieces in play that she could not afford to uncover by getting caught having clandestine meetings in a garden. ]
[ She sighed slightly, pulling her coat tighter around her, and feeling awkward about all of this. ]
"And I’m not sure what you want me to say about what happened in there. I don’t blame you for being angry, I don’t blame you for hating us, all of us. I just… don’t blame you."
[ Not the best apology, but she certainly wasn’t about to admit to being part of a big conspiracy to bring the system that had destroyed so much and so many lives either. ]
[ The annoyance on the woman’s face was clear; Johanna read it. Maybe it’s just clear for Johanna to read when people feel like that since it happened pretty often with her. She was a hard kind of woman to swallow, and that’s how she liked it. It should burn on the way down. ]
"Ariadne then. You can relax, you know. People aren’t going to find us and if they do –– well, I’ll just tell them you wanted some compensation for all the sponsorship you gave me during my games. Might have to grope me to help with our alibi."
[ Johanna laughed and winked at the woman. Her voice was cutting and no, she didn’t trust this woman, she hated where this woman was from but –– she was cautiously (as cautiously as Johanna Mason could be) stepping to see what everything was about. She was different than others, at least. And she felt like she could make a sex suggested joke and not actually be taken up on the offer –– it was a relief of a thing in the Capitol.
Her eyebrows furrowed as the Capitol woman started to ramble about the drink back in the party. Did she really think Johanna brought her out to the side of the gardens just to wait for a fucking apology, or something? ]
"Don’t really give a damn about the drink. Fucking hate this dress so it doesn’t mean a thing if it’s ruined. I’m not looking for blame games or fucking apologies."
[ So then why did Johanna seek out a private conversation with this woman? Her fucking curiosity sometimes got her into stupid situations. ]
"You seemed like more was going on then just parties and fashion and drinking drinks that’ll make you vomit so you could eat more while the fucking Districts are starving and barely making it with rations. So. Talk. You got the floor."
[ Johanna had a feeling this woman was never told that before, never felt how liberating it was. Well, here you go, Cooper. ]