diamondhack | INBOX

[It's about thirty minutes later when there's a knock at his door.]

[it takes a full minute before he answers the door, and when he does it's pretty obvious as to why he really messaged her. Because he sure does look like crap; paler than he's been in a while, though at least that's more from training than other reasons.

He offers her a weak, there-and-gone smile before he steps aside to let her in]

[She's... admittedly a little shocked. It's almost visible in the way she blinks and her brows furrow only slightly.

She steps in and quickly sets the bottle aside. The drink can wait. He cannot.

Dark eyes search his face when she cups his cheeks. Years upon years of tailing people taught her many things about reading a man, yet this required no experience.]

What happened?

[he lowers his head a bit when she cups his face, leaning into the touch and shutting his eyes. Against his will, almost, since he really didn't mean to seek out comfort, but then again, he hasn't been thinking all that much.

His voice is barely a whisper when he finally talks]

Black box.

Oh.

[She runs her thumbs against his cheeks. She knows. She understands. She suppressed it. Her own trials brought little comfort for several nights, but she made her peace with it.

Yet it made the choice difficult for her as to who to become next.

Isha moves to wrap her arms around his neck.]

I'm so sorry, love.

[he just stands there, arms hanging loosely at his sides. The thing about these trials is that it's all events, emotions he's never had to face before. His life has been, in a few words, easy and carefree. Excluding the murder, and the murder attempt in his twenties, he's been lucky. Controlled. He was in charge and able to do what he wished.

With this training? He's helpless, confused. His temper, a thing rarely ever triggered, and yet he's popped up far more than it has since . . . he can't remember. And he doesn't want to think about the details.

He blows out a sigh and finally raises a hand to wrap around her]

I'm fine. [it hurts to talk, but he's forcing it] Just worn out.

[She only holds him now, playing with his hair gently.

She'd felt this way once, here, with Noh-Varr. Her heart is steel. She is well-versed in the ways of strength despite pain and weakness, because that's what she knows, what she's taught herself. She couldn't be weak out of the fear of losing her life.

She wants to take whatever he's feeling and bear it herself.

His voice is strained. It's never good when his voice is strained.

She pulls back to gaze at him.]

My own Black Box was a nightmare as well. You're not alone.

[it isn't the sort of strained that comes with talking too much; he screamed himself hoarse and then some at the end of his training, his anger breaking free of his usual, tight hold on it.

He lifts his head to look at her and tries to smile, but it's barely there, barely a quirk of his lips]

I imagine not. I doubt anyone has had a good experience with it.

[She searches him. There would be a quip in return, some sarcastic remark said in jest, but he's not in a state she likes him to be.]

Tell me what happened.

[he's not in a state he likes to be in either, and it's almost frustrating that he's having so much trouble dragging himself out of it]

I'd rather not. [he winces a little at the thought. He doesn't want to think about it, why would he want to talk about it? Out loud, in front of anyone? Even if it's Isha]

Let's just say it hit personally this time.

So be it.

[It's not her place to drag his secrets out. Others? Perhaps. His?

Not exactly.]

If it's any consolation, mine was very personal as well.

It's very strange, how such a device knows how to dig deep.

[he clears his throat with a wince, then draws away to take her hand, wordlessly leading her over to his bed]

[She follows with a quiet hum.]

It knows more than it will ever let on.

It knows things it shouldn't, I think. I understand its purpose, but . . .

[he can't find exactly what he wants to say, though, so he just shakes his head and sits on the bed with a grunt]

INBOX | CDC

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