( it would be easier to hide this growing anxiety if only they hugged for longer, but david—wanda has come to learn—bulldozes through when he's feeling particularly strong about something. so, now that he pulls away this fraction of a distance, hands just below her shoulders, wanda's caught in just leaving her hands to lightly hold onto the sides of his shirt.
he tries to catch her eyes, but wanda's looking down, away. it's not about being shifty, it's just— embarrassing, really, how much emotion can just wrap itself around her, leaving her to managing all sorts of complicated feelings that aren't just her own (though they are, mostly her own, just this barrage of grief that she's been carrying with her so long). )
I didn't mean it like that. ( her voice is quiet, like she's trying to hold her breath, lest it gives life to choked vocal chords. it's fine—she's fine. ) I'm just ... trying not to read into it.
( telling him without telling him, that she's felt something through him that she's been trying to parse and the result isn't great. the sticker on his shirt has tangled itself on her hair, and wanda notices, drawing her hands away from him to try and get it off. it distracts her enough to be able to say, with a little more strength in the volume of her voice, ) We don't choose to come here, and we don't get to choose when we leave. It's just... ( she catches the sticker, which sticks to her thumb. wanda brings her hands down to her lap, careful of not ruining or losing the star. ) I never get to say goodbye.
( this isn't about david, even if it partly is, and wanda recognizes it as much. she raises her hand to show him the star; it's clearly for sticking on paper and other such surfaces, not randomly on shirts. )
Glue's probably old. ( not at all related to the star: ) Sorry.
( —read into it? read into what? his response? something else? the question catches, sits to one side of his thoughts, even as his hands remain resting on her arms, reluctant to pull away entirely. it's notable that he doesn't make the same effort — trying not to read into it (whatever it is) — when her voice is quiet, when she avoids looking at him, and he inhales a breath before glancing away to the side. after a loose count of three, he straightens, finally dropping his hands and sitting back further when she pulls her hands away from his top to deal with the sticker caught in her hair.
he looks back to her, to her hands, as she continues. is that all it is? not getting to say goodbye? it's not precisely impatience the explanation sparks, but it's decisiveness, a thought and a(n almost) solution— ) Then I'll write you a letter. I'm not going to let the choice be taken from me, but if it is, then— You'll have that.
( it doesn't quite solve the problem of her reciprocating, of saying goodbye in return, but it's something. perhaps not closure in the truest sense of it, but it'd mean less wondering, fewer questions. while it's not to the extent of wanda, david knows what it's like not to get to say goodbye, too, and so—.
he reaches out to take the star balanced on the tip of her finger, the corners of his lips curving up into a small smile. ) You're being silly. This was supposed to be a nice, happy new roommates dinner. ( he leans forward again, quiet teasing, almost coaxing in his tone. ) Don't make it sad.
( she wants to argue that it's not her fault that she is 'making it sad', because this whole thing has been sparked from that wayward sentiment in his words. of having figured it out, why she can't put her finger on why it doesn't feel right. but that really is the thing about 'reading' other people's feelings: interpreting them is not always so simple, and this is one hell of a layered emotion.
wanda follows his hand as he takes the star from her, eyes moving then to his face, as he offers her a small smile. only then does she look him in the eyes.
(it doesn't escape her, his proposal, of writing her a letter. if she's being silly, then he is, too, offering this otherwise simple and easy solution to a problem that's so much bigger than what wanda is willing to admit, even to herself. why had she never thought of it? it's actually brilliant—) )
With your handwriting? ( she teases right back, managing a small smile of her own and rubbing at the corners of her eyes. he's close enough that— wanda presses in for another hug, scooting closer herself, mostly against his side. ) It better be a long letter.
( it doesn't have to be (they've really known each other for just a few days). when she draws back, she holds onto his arm, allowing herself the courage to stop being sad about something she doesn't understand and something that david is more than willing to try and help her avoid feeling, ultimately. )
...but this is enough, too. ( a quiet pout, her hands moving down his arm to hold his hand proper. ) Are you happy?
( the 'nice, happy new roommates dinner' may yet be salvageable. )
( this time, when she moves closer for a hug that's as much existing in each other's proximity as it is anything else, he doesn't pull away to interject with anything. he stays where he is, with her pressed against him, companionable and content. he doesn't care to linger on the awareness that syd hadn't appreciated it, that she hadn't considered much of a solution to anything because it hadn't changed the fact that he'd left. that wanda accepts it is— oddly, startlingly relieving. whether or not it'd stay that way, whether or not she'd still feel appreciative for it if and when it happens is irrelevant — for now, it ties a bow on something uncomfortable, packages it into something more palatable.
the reality of it will happen when it happens. )
—That sounds like a trick question. ( he tells her, a non-answer to her are you happy? he'd been happy, and then the conversation had taken a turn, and now what is he supposed to say? yes and he runs the risk of looking like an asshole; no and he still runs the risk of sounding like an asshole.
he looks to her hand in his, settles on— )
I like spending time with you. I'm happy that we're friends.
( happiness is a strange word for it, anyway. content, he thinks, would be better; grateful, maybe. happy implies a kind of simplicity that he doesn't think the city's earnt, that this hasn't earnt. )
( wanda confirms, after he's given her his own kind of answer. he didn't need to answer it directly if he didn't want to, but he answers it honestly enough; that much wanda can ascertain. she's also a pretty straight-forward kind of person, even if she'll speak rather cryptically about things that she, personally, doesn't fully understand; never saying something she doesn't anticipate elaborating or that she doesn't expect the person she's talking to to not understand by themselves.
then, her expression softens. )
Me, too. (i like spending time with you. i'm happy that we're friends.
she draws her hands back to pick up the sticker sheet, then offering it to david to put the star sticker back on it. better, perhaps, than throwing it out... wanda pushes up to stand, holding onto the sheet after the fact, but doesn't take a step away. resolutely, she states, ) It got sad not because I was being silly. The music stopped. ( duh ) That's why.
( his gaze flickers, brief and assessing, before seemingly accepting wanda's words at face value. it doesn't change his answer, doesn't lead him to adding anything new or elaborating because, quite quickly, wanda speaks. it's redundant, perhaps, the establishing that they're both okay (more than okay) with this, the thing that neither of them have quite settled on a definition of beyond accepting that they get each other.
he wouldn't be here if there was any question about it; she wouldn't tolerate it. her mind had made that much clear.
—still, that doesn't change that it's nice to hear it spoken aloud and confirmed.
she stands only after he's pressed the star back on the sticker sheet, and though he's not convinced it'll stay on the sheet for long, not with the fluff caught on the back of it from his top, but it sticks for now. once he's certain it's not going to flutter pathetically to the floor, he lifts his gaze to look at wanda, expression reflecting firm, certain doubt. his eyebrows arch and he looks to the stereo, missing her glance down at him. )
So you need background music at all times. ( a soft murmur of a statement, intoned musingly enough. it's cute as a mock defence, entirely ridiculous, and there's no need to call it out for what it is.
except— ) I'd been going to play the second side. You interrupted.
( a no on the picking something different, then. )
( the amused statement doesn't escape her, and wanda rolls her eyes to herself; he's making a point about her exceptionally-bad excuse, not wanting to call her out for it but making it clear that he could. wanda shifts on her feet, about to head to the stereo, but when he mentions that she interrupted, she pauses halfway through a step. )
You're the DJ, aren't you? You are slacking on the job.
( she intones, along with a playful ruffling of his hair as she goes past him, a light reminder of his not-so-official role from the previous day in the car. she sits on the couch's arm, then, placing the sticker sheet next to the stereo, all while she works on ejecting the tape to turn it around to play the second side. she's quiet for a moment, reading the label, city pop.
pressing play, it's quiet at first, before a more upbeat rhythm starts, introducing then a voice the neutralizes the beat. wherein the other songs before were by some male singer, the female vocalist is pretty refreshing. the songs to follow will be of a similar vein in sound, even if the singer is different in each one.
wanda turns to david, pointing at the stereo. )
It's 'city pop'. I haven't heard that before. ( it sounds like it was something recorded from a recording, like most everything else, but it still is pretty crisp. lifting her feet from the floor, she lands back on the couch to sit on it proper. ) Good? ( their taste in music may not be all too similar, but so far they haven't had any trouble of the musical kind. after the song plays for a bit longer, wanda's swaying with the beat, then— )
Come, get up.
( she stands, hands reaching out to him to help him up. was he not done eating waffles? sorry about that, but they won't be going anywhere. it's a 'happy, nice new roommates dinner', so time to put the 'happy' back into it; they danced before, while in the astral plane, to an even slower song. it can't be too hard to figure out what wanda is asking of him. at least she does say, )
I was the DJ. That job ended when you necked a glass of wine and I drove us back, ( he retorts, expression deliberately neutral but for the small curve of a smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth. it's a light rebuff, half-hearted and not remotely serious, and his attention returns to his unfinished waffles and the bowl of fruit while she busies herself with the tape.
he's in the middle of eating a strawberry when the music starts back up, a small tilt of his head towards the stereo the only initial sign he's listening, followed by a full turn when wanda speaks. city pop. he has no idea, either. it's — fine. easy listening. not quite hold music, but not far off it, either. while david's particular about the sounds he's willing to tolerate, even if they're ill-defined and difficult to articulate, this is inoffensive and, in truth, a little boring. he chooses to eat another strawberry instead of offering his opinion, only looking back to wanda when she tells him to get up.
he lifts his head to look up at her, eyes unblinking as he tries to gauge how serious she is. the tips of his fingers are a little sticky and tinged with red from the strawberries, and his gaze flits from them to the table and back again. a little absently, distractedly, he wipes them against his pant leg and only then takes wanda's hands to stand. it's a little awkward, him uncrossing his legs, her taking his weight to help pull him up, although there's a little something that makes it momentarily less graceless than it'd be otherwise.
david keeps hold of her hands, eyebrows quirking. one song. dancing isn't something he tends to do, not in person, not like this. it's different in the other place. reality-that-isn't-reality. the is-real-but. )
( when david spends a couple of seconds too long between her, looking at his hands, to the table, then back again, wanda can't help but add, ) Don't be boring. ( accompanied by a grin that she is unable to contain. not that she expected david to need the encouragement/dare. she saw a chance to be a bit of an imp and took it.
then david's up on his feet, hands still a little sticky from the strawberries, but that doesn't matter. who leads? is met with a shrug of her shoulders, easy, as she starts to move their hands back and forth, get a chain of movement going to whatever the beat of the song is. there's no fancy footwork or anything, just feeling whatever they feel like.
even if wanda does try to get david to spin with something resulting mostly in failure. )
—in my culture, dance is a very fun experience. ( as her movements falter, the spinning a non-success, arms now crossed as she continues holding david's hands. ) The music is usually faster than this. ( she tries untangling her elbows, turning them over and going under their hands. ) We would only need a guitar and something to hit like a drum, and even the old tetkas would join. Pietro was very popular in the dance circles.
( the music she describes is similar to what had been playing in the other place, with the people dancing in the plaza, in what-was-sokovia, in her mind. community and warmth, especially at a time that felt completely devoid of that. )
There was a rave some months ago. I hope another one happens soon.
( especially given the extra soothing effects of it— )
( —it's not dancing-dancing. it's vague, led more by wanda than david despite her shrug, and though it's not precisely energetic — in part thanks to the music — wanda's enthusiasm is contagious despite david's non-starter of a spin. in my culture, she says, and david's gaze flickers over her as he, too, remembers that plaza in wanda's mind. the music and the people that david had interrupted with something of his own. (hard to call any of that anything to do with his culture, though. he doesn't even know where he'd first heard that song.)
the glance slides into something of a question when she mentions a rave, david imagining the kind where addresses were mentioned only by vague location, followed by vague instructions, followed by abandoned warehouses in industrial estates and gas stations. or ones you only went to if you knew someone who knew someone, who'd give you a phone number to call, and then there'd be a recorded message with the address.
it'd never been his scene. too many people. too much noise. )
I haven't thought about it. ( it's not quite right to say he'll listen to anything, but he wouldn't call himself fussy even if there's an element of being particular about it. interesting works, something with a good bass line, or percussion; something that a melody that doesn't grate. psychedelic, in some respects, but not in the way that most people mean it. surreal, fuzzy, looping—
—but disco's fine, too. new wave, like the band wanda had played earlier.
a little bit of a lopsided, acknowledging smile— ) —Not usually anything they play at raves.
( wanda hadn't been sold on the idea of the rave at first, but the first time she had gone, just out of curiosity, had made her more enthused to go the rest of the times it'd take place. to anyone else, it would feel foolish to try and explain, the kind of feeling she got from it, how everything was at peace and her mind was just swimming with the flow, instead of this burden of listening and picking up on things. )
This one was different. It wasn't about the music.
( but, chances are she won't encounter much of a calming, similar experience again. it's been months, anyway, and so much more has happened in the diadem since that would make it kind of reasonable why no one would want to put up a rave again. but still.
david doesn't give her much of a clear answer, haven't thought about it, again. as the song comes to its end, wanda lets herself hang from his hands, weighing down, and turning around him, if only to let herself sit back down on the couch, letting go of his hands. one song, she had asked, and that's enough as is. a thought comes to mind, as she considers him. )
Have you been? To raves? Concerts, or anything like that?
( wanda knows he was institutionalized for several years, but before then, perhaps? (he doesn't look much the type, though, to be fair.) wanda, for all that she lacked because of the situation in sokovia, was still able to enjoy live music, from neighbors and local musicians coming together during times of respite. sokovia wasn't always without things, even if they certainly didn't have frosted flakes.
her questions, and the ones that follow, are not meant to judge him, rather than they are a way of trying to assert who exactly david is, beyond what she already knows. )
(it wasn't about the music. he shoots her a look, head canting to one side. are raves usually about the music? his expression says he doesn't think they are, and the quirk of his mouth confirms that even before he adds, ) That's a diplomatic way of saying it was about the, ( he lifts a hand and gestures with a hand, half-hearted finger quotes. ) 'Atmosphere'.
—House parties mostly. ( parties in a loose, vague sense. how loose and vague depends on when they're talking about. he knows he's mentioned, in unspecific terms, his commune, but he's made a point of avoiding details, of not elaborating on what that was like. ) The kind where music adds ambience, but no-one's really there for it. It's more a flavour thing.
( she sits, and he makes his way over to the collection of cassettes homed near the stereo, and he starts to flick through them one by one, trying to find something that'll help illustrate his point. it'd be easier, of course, if panorama wasn't such a hodge-podge of things and, as plastic slides against wood, he continues, ) My family listened to all sorts. Fifties, sixties, seventies. I listened to some eighties, like the band you played earlier. I never liked anything that was too—. ( he flicks a hand in the direction of his head and refrains from elaborating further. instead, he glances back over his shoulder at wanda. ) Live music didn't really work for me. Concerts and gigs and whatever.
( a beat; a concession— ) —Probably went to one or two with Amy. ( and hated it, he doesn't add. ) And piano recitals.
( wanda's city pop continues, and david decides for now not to change out. what does he do for fun? what a question. he turns to face her, placing his hands on the top of the unit behind him. )
My— The people I lived with before, we would spend evenings together. Play games, have like... A book club once a week. Tell stories, enjoy each other's company. I meditate, sometimes. Nothing wild or crazy. Things were a lot for a while, so I've been trying to enjoy the simpler things.
( she throws right back, easily and comfortably, leaning back on the couch as he turns to the collection of cassettes. one day she should try and organize her collection, label it properly, maybe categorize it based on the genre. a project for the future, perhaps, now that her moving is pretty much sorted. wanda leans against the arm of the couch, trying to catch what he's flicking through, then up at him when he does glance over his shoulder. )
Piano recitals?
( —how random. anyway, she kind of gets a better picture now, based on david's whole... thing, the schizophrenia probably made it a pain to deal with music that didn't 'work' for him.
she leans back once he turns proper. spend evening together, plays games, a book club (why did he hesitate?), enjoy each other's company. very kind of quaint, as far as 'fun' is concerned, but wanda can see how something like that can be both pleasant and enriching. it makes even more sense, when he bookends it by saying that he's trying to enjoy the simpler things, considering how everything a lot for a while. for wanda, it's more about making up for the fact that she didn't have many lived experiences herself; try them once, sort of thing, and if she likes it enough she'll try them again. )
We can do things like that if you want. If it helps. ( ? anyway, as if providing an explanation, ) I like to try things out once at least, especially here. There's a lot of time to kill, and other than — work, it's not like I have to answer to anyone. (anymore. she tilts her head. ) My brother was the extrovert, anyway.
( and although she's been trying to be a little more of what pietro always tried to encourage her to be, it's not exactly fun all the time, or easy.
she sits back, an amused expression on her face, teasing— )
( her echo of his words earns a huff of a laugh and he steps away from the wooden unit with the stereo on it to make his way to the sofa and drop himself next to her. his tone's a little wry when he leans into her briefly, answering, )Sure, we can go with that.
( he straightens when she asks about the piano recitals, explaining— ) Amy played. We had a piano in the house. My mom tried to teach me too, but I didn't take to it. I did play soccer as a kid, though.
( and then she leans back. her offer, the we can is nice. sweet. it's not enough to make him feel bad about the misrepresentation, the lack of complete transparency about what he'd been up to before awakening in the scrapyard — all that she knows is all that she needs to know, and it's not as if any of it's a lie. he knows how people interpret the enlightenment house. he knows how it comes across. wanda's said she won't judge, but that doesn't mean he needs to test her.
he pulls his legs up to sit cross-legged. ) That's why I asked if you like games. ( partly, anyway. ) But I don't know how well a book club will work if it's just the two of us. ( quizzical, fleeting— ) A book pair? (nah. another slight, subtle lean towards her, faintly (jokingly) accusatory— ) I am older than you. You're like, a baby.
( punctuated by a breath of a pause. )
—Amy wasn't an extrovert, but she had more friends than I did. My friend, Lenny, though, she could convince you to do anything. Of anything, if she put her mind to it.
Funny. ( she says, softly, but doesn't elaborate, at david's explanation of the piano, at his playing soccer. her mom took on the task of teaching the twins piano when they were young, as well as having art projects at home. suppose that's what all moms try to do, ultimately, for their kids— she tries to imagine david playing soccer. when he leans in again, after sitting cross-legged and tries to figure out the logistics of a book-club-for-two and seems to set the idea aside, wanda puts her hand to his shoulder. it's almost like she felt the (joking) accusation incoming. ) I'm not.
( a baby. twenty-six is a commendable amount of years to have lived, considering her circumstances.
she does leave her hand on his shoulder, having gone from an attempt to shove him away to just a warm, casual point of connection between them. there's amy, whom he's mentioned before, wanda recognizes as his sister, and then there's lenny. wanda thinks it's the first time he's mentioned his friend. )
Is she one of those people who are afraid of you?
( it doesn't sound like it, with the way he talks of lenny, albeit very simply and without much detail. a quiet twisting of her lips, figuring she's answered her own question herself, before, ) Do you miss them? Your sister? Lenny?
Lenny? No. We met—. ( when? ) Years ago. ( he knows his memories on that are a mess, a mass of what's true, what farouk made him think and believe, but regardless of the specifics, it's been him and lenny for longer than it's been him and anyone else. ) She knows who I am. ( it's quick, hurried, certain enough that it's almost dismissive; lenny doesn't question him, not like that. she's not afraid of him (even if she should be—) (not that he would). )
Of course I miss her. Them. But Amy—. ( the pause is abrupt, indecisive. ) She's gone. Whatever this place can do, if it can bring back people who are dead, take them from before they die, it's not — I don't want her here.
( it's not, specifically, that. it's not that he doesn't think they could make some kind of a life here if she did turn up, but it wouldn't be her. it wouldn't be her and ben, the life they'd planned out together. farouk had destroyed her in much the same way he'd ensured david's life was a ruin, and he doesn't want that for her — to either come here and remember what'd happened to her, to ben; or to come here and have that waiting for her. or — not, as it were. but that amy wouldn't be his amy, so—.
(it circles back to the question wanda had answered earlier, the one he'd dodged at first and then answered in a roundabout way, his I've figured it out.) )
—Lenny would like this place. ( a flicker of consideration, a glance up to the ceiling; a correction— ) The Blocks, not the Sanctum. Too many cameras. Too many, ( he clicks his tongue. ) Enforcers. But she's got someone, and being away from her would upset her, so—.
It doesn't matter. ( decisive, a firm conclusion, even if he doesn't say in what way it doesn't matter. he doesn't shrug her off, but he does turn to her as much as the sofa allows. intense, intent— ) I told you, I'm not in a hurry. I miss them, but that doesn't mean I can't be happy here, too.
( david doesn't want them here, and wanda wonders about that. is it partly because of what this place is, how much more complicated it would be, to have loved ones here to look after? to worry about? wanda isn't stupid; she recognizes that a lot about david is selfish. didn't he impose this idea of moving in with her, without even asking? just assuming he could make it be and he wouldn't have to explain? but she also sees, beyond the selfishness, another side of him. she can't quite quantify what it is, but it's lonely.
and lonely gives way to many other aspects of oneself.
it doesn't matter, and though david doesn't shrug her off, wanda does move her hand away. as he turns to her, intense and intent, wanda sits sideways, to face him, and grabs hold of his hand. )
I'm not asking because I'm trying to catch if you really meant it about not being in a hurry to leave. ( turning his palm up and over, she glances down, at the lines on his palm; one hand holds his, lightly, and the other she uses to draw over the lines—the heart line (ambiguous, between selfish and falls for easily), the head line (inconsistencies), the life line (cautious), the fate line (broken, different directions). ) I know what you said, and I believe you. I trust you.
( it's really that simple. this much, it's just learning about him, leaving open, perhaps, the ability for him to talk about those he misses and whatever he wants with her.
she moves his hand so that it's cupped, and she counts the mounts on his palm, under his fingers. it's fine — she's not actually doing a reading proper. instead, wanda opts to just hold his hand in hers. )
I'll keep an ear out for any Amys or Lennys, if they ever show up. ( and, of course— ) And keep my distance if a Farouk ever does show up, too. You'll be the first to know.
( a quiet smile follows, a tilt of her head, eyes meeting his. )
( she says she'll keep an ear out and reflexively, he shakes his head. he doesn't mean it as a don't, more a that's an unnecessary before he states, ) I'll hear them. ( self-assured and certain. he doesn't know that, not really — he still hasn't tested the full extent of what he can and can't do — but he's sure in spite of that.
and so that's where he leaves it, allowing wanda to take his hand in hers. he doesn't think she'd been lying, or had been trying to trick him, he'd just wanted to be clear. make sure she knew his perspective on the matter. trust is — well, it's not quite that it's challenging, per se, but he knows how easily it can be broken; he knows, too, how he prefers to curate it. he knows that not having easy access to that simple solution can make things — annoying, even if wanda has something of a cheat sheet in being able to guess at his feelings.
he does, quietly, acknowledge that— ) Not Farouk. He can hide himself. (he can't hide the twist of bitterness in that, the distaste. it's short-lived, brief. ) But I don't want to talk about them, not Farouk, not Amy, not Lenny. (we'll look after each other. ) What do you do for fun? What do you want to do? There's a whole world out there. ( his gaze flickers towards the window as if for emphasis. ) Don't lie to me and tell me you haven't been playing it safe.
( don't call it a cheat sheet just because you can't do it—
wanda moves past the subject because david says that he doesn't want to talk about them, not any of them. that he'll hear should amy or lenny arrive, but that farouk will be much more difficult to intercept. her cheat sheet does help in picking up that short-lived twist of bitterness, which is why she lets it be.
david glances out the window, and it makes wanda — think. )
I hitchhike. I get to meet a bunch of people that way. ( that can't really just be it. she thinks about it for a bit longer, finally letting go of his hand, and bringing up her legs on the couch, too; feet up on the cushion, knees bent, she hugs her legs close as she presses her side against the couch. ) Sometimes, I run into raiders—
( she pauses. hm. she owes henry a car window... well, if he hasn't asked since... )
I keep busy with work, and I try solving crossword puzzles with the magazines at work. I never get them right. ( for a moment, she releases her arms from around her legs, and fidgets with her fingers, with her sleeves, rings. ) There's someone I work with. We're — scouting out how easy it'd be to... (you know) —in the Sanctum.
( anyway! that's not super important, unless david wants to focus on it. )
I want to get a television. I have a stash of video tapes at work that I want to see. Sitcoms, mostly. Some movies. So, ( she motions with her hands, thumbs and pointer fingers stretched out, depicting a semblance of a rectangle ) it needs to have the VHS part.
( she's mentioned the hitchhiking before and david hadn't thought much of it. in and of itself, it's something that's not safe, but it's different for someone who can do what wanda can do, even if there's no assurance that whoever she gets into a car with can't do the same or more. but, but, her addition of 'I get to meet—' gives him pause, and david, silently, looks to her, his head tilted to one side as he interrupts her answer to request, )What?
( it overlaps with the rest of what she says, the thing about sometimes meeting raiders, and the way she doesn't linger on that all but confirms to david that he'd been correct in his assertion the night previous that they're nothing to worry about. assholes with guns, maybe, who get off on scaring people. she can handle them, he can handle them.
—but he does linger on that unfinished remark, precisely because it is unfinished. ordinarily, it'd be different. he wouldn't need to. the thought would be there, it'd accompany the utterance, and david would be able to decide if he wanted to pursue it or if he wanted to leave it. as it stands, it just comes across as if it's something wanda's not fully committed to, or like she thinks david will judge her. ) —How easy it'll be to what?
( it's more interesting than the idea of watching vhs. he's been there, done that. movie afternoons at clockworks, inoffensive things that wouldn't upset any of them. musicals. animations. dancing in the rain, bedknobs and broomsticks. rated universal, rated parental guidance. he doesn't think that's what wanda will like necessarily, it's just what it puts him in mind of. he almost tells her that they don't need a tv.
(lenny had agreed.)
he taps his fingers against his knees, a short one-two. ) What sitcoms?
( his what? is not going to get an answer, because having to explain what this whole hitchhiking situation is for her, ever since her arrival here, is going to be a too-long story that she doesn't think is very interesting. wanda can't drive her motorcycle well enough, out into the fringes, (isn't comfortable with it) so she gets to meet people who may potentially be the ones to give her a ride should she ever need it, want to. that's how she's met a lot of the people she considers acquaintances, friends—
but they have a car now, so maybe those days are behind her.
wanda presses her feet, annoyingly, onto the side of one of his thighs. wanda is fully committed to the ventures that she has going on with a certain vampire friend of hers, so it's more likely that she'll think david will judge her. still very much in those early stages of friendship, wanting to appear cool but not too cool that you're untouchable, that kind of thing.
her expression pinches. )
How easy it'll be to break into places. ( said quickly, )Anyway, I have found Malcolm in the Middle. Also a few episodes of The Honeymooners, ( she's listing these off while counting on her fingers, almost as if she were to continue, he'll overlook her statement, (that is one of the reasons how she can afford this place) ) season 2 and season 5 of The Dick Van Dyke Show— ( she points at him, excitedly ) which is my favorite one.
(breaking into places isn't an answer. sure, on the surface, it's something, but it's not a why. some people break into places for the thrill of it, but more often there's a reason. sometimes it's to squat, but wanda has a place; sometimes, it's to intimidate; more often, it's to steal. it's to take something. sometimes that's money, sometimes that's things, sometimes it's something else entirely, but no-one breaks into somewhere to leave empty-handed.
he's not judging, not really — he'd gone along with her plan to sneak into silvia's store too quickly to really be able to comment — but he knows the consequences that can come from breaking into the wrong place at the wrong time. the reasons for it don't even matter, aren't important.
there's a lot in the way her expression tightens when he asks about it, the way she moves on, the press of her feet against his leg.
his attention drifts, away from her and towards the stereo. the cassette whirs each and every time the volume drops, when the recording-of-a-recording dips in and out. it reminds him of before.
a sharp glance back to her, expression bright. )
For what? Fun? The adrenaline rush? 'Cause you want to steal from people who have it better than you? ( he adjusts his weight to lean towards her without inadvertently pressing her feet deeper into his thigh. ) I know what you can do. It's not about how easy it is to break into anywhere. Everywhere's easy.
( so! )
—They used to show movies in the day room at Clockworks. TV shows were less frequent.
( of course david picks on it, because he likes to pull at threads of things that he happens to find fascinating. wanda isn't all too fussed, but still is; maybe it's the idea that she should probably, definitely?, keep it secret, lest her and astarion's ventures become a whole lot more difficult than they need to be. not to mention there's that judgement and disappointment she can see coming her way from others, like steve or erik...
in any case, almost dismissing his tangent about wanting to figure out the why, she says— )
That's why I need to find a TV with a VHS player. You'll like them. ( said with the confidence of someone who loves sitcoms and is about to show their friend something she considers precious, and will not take anything but this is awesome! as an answer— (it makes her feel nostalgic; pietro loved to tease her about her favorite sitcoms, pretending to be annoyed at her episode choices.)
then, a pause, her expression speaking volumes of someone who most definitely is debating saying something else.
(decidedly, david isn't like steve or erik.) )
It's an easy way to get money. I used to do it, with someone else, at the gambling dens. But, then that become tricky, and we were nearly found out one time. ( wanda's fledgling criminal days... ) Breaking in's easier. I use my powers, we steal a couple things, we get out with no one remembering we were there. ( she places her hands on her knees. ) The guy I work with—he figures out pawning the items off, so I don't worry about that. I get my share afterwards.
( then, she raises her right hand, pinky raised. )
( it's, well, considering panorama, oddly mundane. it's a means to make money, and she's self-conscious of it. how many people are there in the city who've made their existence completely honestly? too many people come and go for that. she swears him to secrecy regardless, and he eyes her for a moment before acquiescing. who'd he tell? it doesn't bother him what she does.
it does, though, explain a few things about the apartment, regardless of any impact he might have had. it makes him rethink, too, the way he'd assumed she was judging him back when they met for the first time at the motel and david had pretended like he was going to get a job and pay his way for the room legitimately. it doesn't, of course, make him reconsider things enough to correct her, to set the record straight. )
Okay.
( it's easy agreement, accompanied by a loose lift of a shoulder before he leans forward, resting one hand on her knee for balance and hooking the pinky of his other hand around hers. )
I won't tell anyone how you make your money. But just because it's easier doesn't mean it's easy. Don't get cocky.
( it's not so much that wanda was judging him, so much as she still (then, now) has these thoughts in her head that using her powers is bad; that she shouldn't use it to mess with other people's minds, their memories, even if brief. so it drags over her like the dirtiest of secrets, does it make me a bad person?, constantly racking through her mind. when she had asked david, in their first meeting, if he had ever been told if that using his powers on others was a bad thing (somewhat loosely related to him getting a job), it hadn't been to judge or to force some kind of expectation of him.
genuinely, she had been wondering if this guilt she drags with her is fair for her to drag at all. (this is how bad habits start to get excused.)
even now, there's a little bit of that. of that guilt, of actually really enjoying the validation that david has brought into her life these past few days: we're powerful. why shouldn't they? why shouldn't she?
their pinkies hook together, an easy enough promise. his words aren't meant to chastise, but it still feels — somewhat like that. pietro used to steal before, use his speed to get medicine for the sick in novi grad, toys for the kids. she would tell him something similar, in an angry tone (you'll get shot—and then he was shot), but it's not the same as messing with people's heads. she glances away, momentarily, his hand warm on her knee. )
...I'm not. ( getting cocky. still, she gets her pinky, her hand, back to herself, presses it to her cheek. ) Maybe if — we worked together sometimes, on a few jobs, maybe— ( she's just plainly suggesting a team-up for crime. he seems understanding enough, and, maybe, through that, wanda could benefit in learning from him? their powers? ) It'd be less risky.
( he doesn't seem to be against crime, either way, so. )
I know others have strong feelings about stealing, ( but that's not what what makes her feel bad about the whole thing. she elaborates, quickly enough, ) but more than that — I don't want to screw up and hurt others.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2026-04-25 05:54 pm (UTC)he tries to catch her eyes, but wanda's looking down, away. it's not about being shifty, it's just— embarrassing, really, how much emotion can just wrap itself around her, leaving her to managing all sorts of complicated feelings that aren't just her own (though they are, mostly her own, just this barrage of grief that she's been carrying with her so long). )
I didn't mean it like that. ( her voice is quiet, like she's trying to hold her breath, lest it gives life to choked vocal chords. it's fine—she's fine. ) I'm just ... trying not to read into it.
( telling him without telling him, that she's felt something through him that she's been trying to parse and the result isn't great. the sticker on his shirt has tangled itself on her hair, and wanda notices, drawing her hands away from him to try and get it off. it distracts her enough to be able to say, with a little more strength in the volume of her voice, ) We don't choose to come here, and we don't get to choose when we leave. It's just... ( she catches the sticker, which sticks to her thumb. wanda brings her hands down to her lap, careful of not ruining or losing the star. ) I never get to say goodbye.
( this isn't about david, even if it partly is, and wanda recognizes it as much. she raises her hand to show him the star; it's clearly for sticking on paper and other such surfaces, not randomly on shirts. )
Glue's probably old. ( not at all related to the star: ) Sorry.
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Date: 2026-04-25 06:51 pm (UTC)he looks back to her, to her hands, as she continues. is that all it is? not getting to say goodbye? it's not precisely impatience the explanation sparks, but it's decisiveness, a thought and a(n almost) solution— ) Then I'll write you a letter. I'm not going to let the choice be taken from me, but if it is, then— You'll have that.
( it doesn't quite solve the problem of her reciprocating, of saying goodbye in return, but it's something. perhaps not closure in the truest sense of it, but it'd mean less wondering, fewer questions. while it's not to the extent of wanda, david knows what it's like not to get to say goodbye, too, and so—.
he reaches out to take the star balanced on the tip of her finger, the corners of his lips curving up into a small smile. ) You're being silly. This was supposed to be a nice, happy new roommates dinner. ( he leans forward again, quiet teasing, almost coaxing in his tone. ) Don't make it sad.
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Date: 2026-04-25 07:22 pm (UTC)wanda follows his hand as he takes the star from her, eyes moving then to his face, as he offers her a small smile. only then does she look him in the eyes.
(it doesn't escape her, his proposal, of writing her a letter. if she's being silly, then he is, too, offering this otherwise simple and easy solution to a problem that's so much bigger than what wanda is willing to admit, even to herself. why had she never thought of it? it's actually brilliant—) )
With your handwriting? ( she teases right back, managing a small smile of her own and rubbing at the corners of her eyes. he's close enough that— wanda presses in for another hug, scooting closer herself, mostly against his side. ) It better be a long letter.
( it doesn't have to be (they've really known each other for just a few days). when she draws back, she holds onto his arm, allowing herself the courage to stop being sad about something she doesn't understand and something that david is more than willing to try and help her avoid feeling, ultimately. )
...but this is enough, too. ( a quiet pout, her hands moving down his arm to hold his hand proper. ) Are you happy?
( the 'nice, happy new roommates dinner' may yet be salvageable. )
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Date: 2026-04-25 07:58 pm (UTC)the reality of it will happen when it happens. )
—That sounds like a trick question. ( he tells her, a non-answer to her are you happy? he'd been happy, and then the conversation had taken a turn, and now what is he supposed to say? yes and he runs the risk of looking like an asshole; no and he still runs the risk of sounding like an asshole.
he looks to her hand in his, settles on— )
I like spending time with you. I'm happy that we're friends.
( happiness is a strange word for it, anyway. content, he thinks, would be better; grateful, maybe. happy implies a kind of simplicity that he doesn't think the city's earnt, that this hasn't earnt. )
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Date: 2026-04-25 08:21 pm (UTC)( wanda confirms, after he's given her his own kind of answer. he didn't need to answer it directly if he didn't want to, but he answers it honestly enough; that much wanda can ascertain. she's also a pretty straight-forward kind of person, even if she'll speak rather cryptically about things that she, personally, doesn't fully understand; never saying something she doesn't anticipate elaborating or that she doesn't expect the person she's talking to to not understand by themselves.
then, her expression softens. )
Me, too. ( i like spending time with you. i'm happy that we're friends.
she draws her hands back to pick up the sticker sheet, then offering it to david to put the star sticker back on it. better, perhaps, than throwing it out... wanda pushes up to stand, holding onto the sheet after the fact, but doesn't take a step away. resolutely, she states, ) It got sad not because I was being silly. The music stopped. ( duh ) That's why.
( she glances down at him. )
Do you want to pick something different?
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Date: 2026-04-25 09:07 pm (UTC)he wouldn't be here if there was any question about it; she wouldn't tolerate it. her mind had made that much clear.
—still, that doesn't change that it's nice to hear it spoken aloud and confirmed.
she stands only after he's pressed the star back on the sticker sheet, and though he's not convinced it'll stay on the sheet for long, not with the fluff caught on the back of it from his top, but it sticks for now. once he's certain it's not going to flutter pathetically to the floor, he lifts his gaze to look at wanda, expression reflecting firm, certain doubt. his eyebrows arch and he looks to the stereo, missing her glance down at him. )
So you need background music at all times. ( a soft murmur of a statement, intoned musingly enough. it's cute as a mock defence, entirely ridiculous, and there's no need to call it out for what it is.
except— ) I'd been going to play the second side. You interrupted.
( a no on the picking something different, then. )
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Date: 2026-04-26 12:03 am (UTC)You're the DJ, aren't you? You are slacking on the job.
( she intones, along with a playful ruffling of his hair as she goes past him, a light reminder of his not-so-official role from the previous day in the car. she sits on the couch's arm, then, placing the sticker sheet next to the stereo, all while she works on ejecting the tape to turn it around to play the second side. she's quiet for a moment, reading the label, city pop.
pressing play, it's quiet at first, before a more upbeat rhythm starts, introducing then a voice the neutralizes the beat. wherein the other songs before were by some male singer, the female vocalist is pretty refreshing. the songs to follow will be of a similar vein in sound, even if the singer is different in each one.
wanda turns to david, pointing at the stereo. )
It's 'city pop'. I haven't heard that before. ( it sounds like it was something recorded from a recording, like most everything else, but it still is pretty crisp. lifting her feet from the floor, she lands back on the couch to sit on it proper. ) Good? ( their taste in music may not be all too similar, but so far they haven't had any trouble of the musical kind. after the song plays for a bit longer, wanda's swaying with the beat, then— )
Come, get up.
( she stands, hands reaching out to him to help him up. was he not done eating waffles? sorry about that, but they won't be going anywhere. it's a 'happy, nice new roommates dinner', so time to put the 'happy' back into it; they danced before, while in the astral plane, to an even slower song. it can't be too hard to figure out what wanda is asking of him. at least she does say, )
Just one song.
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Date: 2026-04-26 06:49 am (UTC)he's in the middle of eating a strawberry when the music starts back up, a small tilt of his head towards the stereo the only initial sign he's listening, followed by a full turn when wanda speaks. city pop. he has no idea, either. it's — fine. easy listening. not quite hold music, but not far off it, either. while david's particular about the sounds he's willing to tolerate, even if they're ill-defined and difficult to articulate, this is inoffensive and, in truth, a little boring. he chooses to eat another strawberry instead of offering his opinion, only looking back to wanda when she tells him to get up.
he lifts his head to look up at her, eyes unblinking as he tries to gauge how serious she is. the tips of his fingers are a little sticky and tinged with red from the strawberries, and his gaze flits from them to the table and back again. a little absently, distractedly, he wipes them against his pant leg and only then takes wanda's hands to stand. it's a little awkward, him uncrossing his legs, her taking his weight to help pull him up, although there's a little something that makes it momentarily less graceless than it'd be otherwise.
david keeps hold of her hands, eyebrows quirking. one song. dancing isn't something he tends to do, not in person, not like this. it's different in the other place. reality-that-isn't-reality. the is-real-but. )
Who leads?
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Date: 2026-04-26 01:41 pm (UTC)then david's up on his feet, hands still a little sticky from the strawberries, but that doesn't matter. who leads? is met with a shrug of her shoulders, easy, as she starts to move their hands back and forth, get a chain of movement going to whatever the beat of the song is. there's no fancy footwork or anything, just feeling whatever they feel like.
even if wanda does try to get david to spin with something resulting mostly in failure. )
—in my culture, dance is a very fun experience. ( as her movements falter, the spinning a non-success, arms now crossed as she continues holding david's hands. ) The music is usually faster than this. ( she tries untangling her elbows, turning them over and going under their hands. ) We would only need a guitar and something to hit like a drum, and even the old tetkas would join. Pietro was very popular in the dance circles.
( the music she describes is similar to what had been playing in the other place, with the people dancing in the plaza, in what-was-sokovia, in her mind. community and warmth, especially at a time that felt completely devoid of that. )
There was a rave some months ago. I hope another one happens soon.
( especially given the extra soothing effects of it— )
What's your favorite kind of music?
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Date: 2026-04-26 04:04 pm (UTC)the glance slides into something of a question when she mentions a rave, david imagining the kind where addresses were mentioned only by vague location, followed by vague instructions, followed by abandoned warehouses in industrial estates and gas stations. or ones you only went to if you knew someone who knew someone, who'd give you a phone number to call, and then there'd be a recorded message with the address.
it'd never been his scene. too many people. too much noise. )
I haven't thought about it. ( it's not quite right to say he'll listen to anything, but he wouldn't call himself fussy even if there's an element of being particular about it. interesting works, something with a good bass line, or percussion; something that a melody that doesn't grate. psychedelic, in some respects, but not in the way that most people mean it. surreal, fuzzy, looping—
—but disco's fine, too. new wave, like the band wanda had played earlier.
a little bit of a lopsided, acknowledging smile— ) —Not usually anything they play at raves.
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Date: 2026-04-26 04:49 pm (UTC)This one was different. It wasn't about the music.
( but, chances are she won't encounter much of a calming, similar experience again. it's been months, anyway, and so much more has happened in the diadem since that would make it kind of reasonable why no one would want to put up a rave again. but still.
david doesn't give her much of a clear answer, haven't thought about it, again. as the song comes to its end, wanda lets herself hang from his hands, weighing down, and turning around him, if only to let herself sit back down on the couch, letting go of his hands. one song, she had asked, and that's enough as is. a thought comes to mind, as she considers him. )
Have you been? To raves? Concerts, or anything like that?
( wanda knows he was institutionalized for several years, but before then, perhaps? (he doesn't look much the type, though, to be fair.) wanda, for all that she lacked because of the situation in sokovia, was still able to enjoy live music, from neighbors and local musicians coming together during times of respite. sokovia wasn't always without things, even if they certainly didn't have frosted flakes.
her questions, and the ones that follow, are not meant to judge him, rather than they are a way of trying to assert who exactly david is, beyond what she already knows. )
What do you do in your spare time? For fun?
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Date: 2026-04-26 05:35 pm (UTC)—House parties mostly. ( parties in a loose, vague sense. how loose and vague depends on when they're talking about. he knows he's mentioned, in unspecific terms, his commune, but he's made a point of avoiding details, of not elaborating on what that was like. ) The kind where music adds ambience, but no-one's really there for it. It's more a flavour thing.
( she sits, and he makes his way over to the collection of cassettes homed near the stereo, and he starts to flick through them one by one, trying to find something that'll help illustrate his point. it'd be easier, of course, if panorama wasn't such a hodge-podge of things and, as plastic slides against wood, he continues, ) My family listened to all sorts. Fifties, sixties, seventies. I listened to some eighties, like the band you played earlier. I never liked anything that was too—. ( he flicks a hand in the direction of his head and refrains from elaborating further. instead, he glances back over his shoulder at wanda. ) Live music didn't really work for me. Concerts and gigs and whatever.
( a beat; a concession— ) —Probably went to one or two with Amy. ( and hated it, he doesn't add. ) And piano recitals.
( wanda's city pop continues, and david decides for now not to change out. what does he do for fun? what a question. he turns to face her, placing his hands on the top of the unit behind him. )
My— The people I lived with before, we would spend evenings together. Play games, have like... A book club once a week. Tell stories, enjoy each other's company. I meditate, sometimes. Nothing wild or crazy. Things were a lot for a while, so I've been trying to enjoy the simpler things.
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Date: 2026-04-26 05:57 pm (UTC)( she throws right back, easily and comfortably, leaning back on the couch as he turns to the collection of cassettes. one day she should try and organize her collection, label it properly, maybe categorize it based on the genre. a project for the future, perhaps, now that her moving is pretty much sorted. wanda leans against the arm of the couch, trying to catch what he's flicking through, then up at him when he does glance over his shoulder. )
Piano recitals?
( —how random. anyway, she kind of gets a better picture now, based on david's whole... thing, the schizophrenia probably made it a pain to deal with music that didn't 'work' for him.
she leans back once he turns proper. spend evening together, plays games, a book club (why did he hesitate?), enjoy each other's company. very kind of quaint, as far as 'fun' is concerned, but wanda can see how something like that can be both pleasant and enriching. it makes even more sense, when he bookends it by saying that he's trying to enjoy the simpler things, considering how everything a lot for a while. for wanda, it's more about making up for the fact that she didn't have many lived experiences herself; try them once, sort of thing, and if she likes it enough she'll try them again. )
We can do things like that if you want. If it helps. ( ? anyway, as if providing an explanation, ) I like to try things out once at least, especially here. There's a lot of time to kill, and other than — work, it's not like I have to answer to anyone. ( anymore. she tilts her head. ) My brother was the extrovert, anyway.
( and although she's been trying to be a little more of what pietro always tried to encourage her to be, it's not exactly fun all the time, or easy.
she sits back, an amused expression on her face, teasing— )
That all makes you sound old and wise.
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Date: 2026-04-26 06:21 pm (UTC)( he straightens when she asks about the piano recitals, explaining— ) Amy played. We had a piano in the house. My mom tried to teach me too, but I didn't take to it. I did play soccer as a kid, though.
( and then she leans back. her offer, the we can is nice. sweet. it's not enough to make him feel bad about the misrepresentation, the lack of complete transparency about what he'd been up to before awakening in the scrapyard — all that she knows is all that she needs to know, and it's not as if any of it's a lie. he knows how people interpret the enlightenment house. he knows how it comes across. wanda's said she won't judge, but that doesn't mean he needs to test her.
he pulls his legs up to sit cross-legged. ) That's why I asked if you like games. ( partly, anyway. ) But I don't know how well a book club will work if it's just the two of us. ( quizzical, fleeting— ) A book pair? ( nah. another slight, subtle lean towards her, faintly (jokingly) accusatory— ) I am older than you. You're like, a baby.
( punctuated by a breath of a pause. )
—Amy wasn't an extrovert, but she had more friends than I did. My friend, Lenny, though, she could convince you to do anything. Of anything, if she put her mind to it.
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Date: 2026-04-26 06:39 pm (UTC)( a baby. twenty-six is a commendable amount of years to have lived, considering her circumstances.
she does leave her hand on his shoulder, having gone from an attempt to shove him away to just a warm, casual point of connection between them. there's amy, whom he's mentioned before, wanda recognizes as his sister, and then there's lenny. wanda thinks it's the first time he's mentioned his friend. )
Is she one of those people who are afraid of you?
( it doesn't sound like it, with the way he talks of lenny, albeit very simply and without much detail. a quiet twisting of her lips, figuring she's answered her own question herself, before, ) Do you miss them? Your sister? Lenny?
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Date: 2026-04-26 07:06 pm (UTC)Of course I miss her. Them. But Amy—. ( the pause is abrupt, indecisive. ) She's gone. Whatever this place can do, if it can bring back people who are dead, take them from before they die, it's not — I don't want her here.
( it's not, specifically, that. it's not that he doesn't think they could make some kind of a life here if she did turn up, but it wouldn't be her. it wouldn't be her and ben, the life they'd planned out together. farouk had destroyed her in much the same way he'd ensured david's life was a ruin, and he doesn't want that for her — to either come here and remember what'd happened to her, to ben; or to come here and have that waiting for her. or — not, as it were. but that amy wouldn't be his amy, so—.
(it circles back to the question wanda had answered earlier, the one he'd dodged at first and then answered in a roundabout way, his I've figured it out.) )
—Lenny would like this place. ( a flicker of consideration, a glance up to the ceiling; a correction— ) The Blocks, not the Sanctum. Too many cameras. Too many, ( he clicks his tongue. ) Enforcers. But she's got someone, and being away from her would upset her, so—.
It doesn't matter. ( decisive, a firm conclusion, even if he doesn't say in what way it doesn't matter. he doesn't shrug her off, but he does turn to her as much as the sofa allows. intense, intent— ) I told you, I'm not in a hurry. I miss them, but that doesn't mean I can't be happy here, too.
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Date: 2026-04-26 07:31 pm (UTC)and lonely gives way to many other aspects of oneself.
it doesn't matter, and though david doesn't shrug her off, wanda does move her hand away. as he turns to her, intense and intent, wanda sits sideways, to face him, and grabs hold of his hand. )
I'm not asking because I'm trying to catch if you really meant it about not being in a hurry to leave. ( turning his palm up and over, she glances down, at the lines on his palm; one hand holds his, lightly, and the other she uses to draw over the lines—the heart line (ambiguous, between selfish and falls for easily), the head line (inconsistencies), the life line (cautious), the fate line (broken, different directions). ) I know what you said, and I believe you. I trust you.
( it's really that simple. this much, it's just learning about him, leaving open, perhaps, the ability for him to talk about those he misses and whatever he wants with her.
she moves his hand so that it's cupped, and she counts the mounts on his palm, under his fingers. it's fine — she's not actually doing a reading proper. instead, wanda opts to just hold his hand in hers. )
I'll keep an ear out for any Amys or Lennys, if they ever show up. ( and, of course— ) And keep my distance if a Farouk ever does show up, too. You'll be the first to know.
( a quiet smile follows, a tilt of her head, eyes meeting his. )
We'll look after each other.
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Date: 2026-04-26 07:50 pm (UTC)and so that's where he leaves it, allowing wanda to take his hand in hers. he doesn't think she'd been lying, or had been trying to trick him, he'd just wanted to be clear. make sure she knew his perspective on the matter. trust is — well, it's not quite that it's challenging, per se, but he knows how easily it can be broken; he knows, too, how he prefers to curate it. he knows that not having easy access to that simple solution can make things — annoying, even if wanda has something of a cheat sheet in being able to guess at his feelings.
he does, quietly, acknowledge that— ) Not Farouk. He can hide himself. ( he can't hide the twist of bitterness in that, the distaste. it's short-lived, brief. ) But I don't want to talk about them, not Farouk, not Amy, not Lenny. ( we'll look after each other. ) What do you do for fun? What do you want to do? There's a whole world out there. ( his gaze flickers towards the window as if for emphasis. ) Don't lie to me and tell me you haven't been playing it safe.
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Date: 2026-04-26 08:19 pm (UTC)wanda moves past the subject because david says that he doesn't want to talk about them, not any of them. that he'll hear should amy or lenny arrive, but that farouk will be much more difficult to intercept. her cheat sheet does help in picking up that short-lived twist of bitterness, which is why she lets it be.
david glances out the window, and it makes wanda — think. )
I hitchhike. I get to meet a bunch of people that way. ( that can't really just be it. she thinks about it for a bit longer, finally letting go of his hand, and bringing up her legs on the couch, too; feet up on the cushion, knees bent, she hugs her legs close as she presses her side against the couch. ) Sometimes, I run into raiders—
( she pauses. hm. she owes henry a car window... well, if he hasn't asked since... )
I keep busy with work, and I try solving crossword puzzles with the magazines at work. I never get them right. ( for a moment, she releases her arms from around her legs, and fidgets with her fingers, with her sleeves, rings. ) There's someone I work with. We're — scouting out how easy it'd be to... ( you know ) —in the Sanctum.
( anyway! that's not super important, unless david wants to focus on it. )
I want to get a television. I have a stash of video tapes at work that I want to see. Sitcoms, mostly. Some movies. So, ( she motions with her hands, thumbs and pointer fingers stretched out, depicting a semblance of a rectangle ) it needs to have the VHS part.
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Date: 2026-04-26 08:39 pm (UTC)( it overlaps with the rest of what she says, the thing about sometimes meeting raiders, and the way she doesn't linger on that all but confirms to david that he'd been correct in his assertion the night previous that they're nothing to worry about. assholes with guns, maybe, who get off on scaring people. she can handle them, he can handle them.
—but he does linger on that unfinished remark, precisely because it is unfinished. ordinarily, it'd be different. he wouldn't need to. the thought would be there, it'd accompany the utterance, and david would be able to decide if he wanted to pursue it or if he wanted to leave it. as it stands, it just comes across as if it's something wanda's not fully committed to, or like she thinks david will judge her. ) —How easy it'll be to what?
( it's more interesting than the idea of watching vhs. he's been there, done that. movie afternoons at clockworks, inoffensive things that wouldn't upset any of them. musicals. animations. dancing in the rain, bedknobs and broomsticks. rated universal, rated parental guidance. he doesn't think that's what wanda will like necessarily, it's just what it puts him in mind of. he almost tells her that they don't need a tv.
(lenny had agreed.)
he taps his fingers against his knees, a short one-two. ) What sitcoms?
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Date: 2026-04-26 08:51 pm (UTC)but they have a car now, so maybe those days are behind her.
wanda presses her feet, annoyingly, onto the side of one of his thighs. wanda is fully committed to the ventures that she has going on with a certain vampire friend of hers, so it's more likely that she'll think david will judge her. still very much in those early stages of friendship, wanting to appear cool but not too cool that you're untouchable, that kind of thing.
her expression pinches. )
How easy it'll be to break into places. ( said quickly, ) Anyway, I have found Malcolm in the Middle. Also a few episodes of The Honeymooners, ( she's listing these off while counting on her fingers, almost as if she were to continue, he'll overlook her statement, (that is one of the reasons how she can afford this place) ) season 2 and season 5 of The Dick Van Dyke Show— ( she points at him, excitedly ) which is my favorite one.
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Date: 2026-04-26 09:14 pm (UTC)he's not judging, not really — he'd gone along with her plan to sneak into silvia's store too quickly to really be able to comment — but he knows the consequences that can come from breaking into the wrong place at the wrong time. the reasons for it don't even matter, aren't important.
there's a lot in the way her expression tightens when he asks about it, the way she moves on, the press of her feet against his leg.
his attention drifts, away from her and towards the stereo. the cassette whirs each and every time the volume drops, when the recording-of-a-recording dips in and out. it reminds him of before.
a sharp glance back to her, expression bright. )
For what? Fun? The adrenaline rush? 'Cause you want to steal from people who have it better than you? ( he adjusts his weight to lean towards her without inadvertently pressing her feet deeper into his thigh. ) I know what you can do. It's not about how easy it is to break into anywhere. Everywhere's easy.
( so! )
—They used to show movies in the day room at Clockworks. TV shows were less frequent.
( or: his familiarity is thin. )
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Date: 2026-04-26 09:33 pm (UTC)in any case, almost dismissing his tangent about wanting to figure out the why, she says— )
That's why I need to find a TV with a VHS player. You'll like them. ( said with the confidence of someone who loves sitcoms and is about to show their friend something she considers precious, and will not take anything but this is awesome! as an answer— (it makes her feel nostalgic; pietro loved to tease her about her favorite sitcoms, pretending to be annoyed at her episode choices.)
then, a pause, her expression speaking volumes of someone who most definitely is debating saying something else.
(decidedly, david isn't like steve or erik.) )
It's an easy way to get money. I used to do it, with someone else, at the gambling dens. But, then that become tricky, and we were nearly found out one time. ( wanda's fledgling criminal days... ) Breaking in's easier. I use my powers, we steal a couple things, we get out with no one remembering we were there. ( she places her hands on her knees. ) The guy I work with—he figures out pawning the items off, so I don't worry about that. I get my share afterwards.
( then, she raises her right hand, pinky raised. )
I'm swearing you to secrecy.
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Date: 2026-04-26 10:02 pm (UTC)it does, though, explain a few things about the apartment, regardless of any impact he might have had. it makes him rethink, too, the way he'd assumed she was judging him back when they met for the first time at the motel and david had pretended like he was going to get a job and pay his way for the room legitimately. it doesn't, of course, make him reconsider things enough to correct her, to set the record straight. )
Okay.
( it's easy agreement, accompanied by a loose lift of a shoulder before he leans forward, resting one hand on her knee for balance and hooking the pinky of his other hand around hers. )
I won't tell anyone how you make your money. But just because it's easier doesn't mean it's easy. Don't get cocky.
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Date: 2026-04-26 10:19 pm (UTC)genuinely, she had been wondering if this guilt she drags with her is fair for her to drag at all. (this is how bad habits start to get excused.)
even now, there's a little bit of that. of that guilt, of actually really enjoying the validation that david has brought into her life these past few days: we're powerful. why shouldn't they? why shouldn't she?
their pinkies hook together, an easy enough promise. his words aren't meant to chastise, but it still feels — somewhat like that. pietro used to steal before, use his speed to get medicine for the sick in novi grad, toys for the kids. she would tell him something similar, in an angry tone (you'll get shot—and then he was shot), but it's not the same as messing with people's heads. she glances away, momentarily, his hand warm on her knee. )
...I'm not. ( getting cocky. still, she gets her pinky, her hand, back to herself, presses it to her cheek. ) Maybe if — we worked together sometimes, on a few jobs, maybe— ( she's just plainly suggesting a team-up for crime. he seems understanding enough, and, maybe, through that, wanda could benefit in learning from him? their powers? ) It'd be less risky.
( he doesn't seem to be against crime, either way, so. )
I know others have strong feelings about stealing, ( but that's not what what makes her feel bad about the whole thing. she elaborates, quickly enough, ) but more than that — I don't want to screw up and hurt others.
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