semantics

who: brett and eris
where: the random church of DOOM
when: morning, throughout the day

Eris woke early. At least, she thought it was early. The light coming in from outside was muted at best, due to the stained glass, and there weren't any normal windows. Mostly what roused her was the sound of the wind, and the smell of something that made her stomach growl. So, slowly, she came awake, and she propped herself up on one arm, looking in the darkness of the building. She could see vague outlines, but not much more. The smell of food, however, was still strong, and she reached for her lighter, flicking it and she lit the candle that had been placed next to the pew she'd been using. Vaguely, she tried to remember when she got back the night before. Or if she remembered coming back at all.

That wonder died, however, when she saw up on the altar, there was a long table that hadn't been there before, the podium pushed off to the side. There were dishes there, covered, but obviously being kept heated. Standing, she silently moved a little closer towards the altar, but stopped when something else caught her attention. The door...well. I was different. Different in the way that it was sort of not looking like it was there anymore. A sick feeling rose up in her stomach, and she walked over closer, and saw a simple typed note tacked to the wall where the door used to be. "Relax, enjoy the food we've provided you. We will return to collect you later." was all it said. Drawing in a deep breath, she let it out slowly, fighting that sick feeling back down again, and she looked back over her shoulder at Brett. He was still asleep. Setting the candle down, she walked over, and sat down on the floor beside him, not actually moving to wake him. Instead she just sat there in the semi dark, eyes on him. This? Was not going to go well.

The man stirred after a few minutes, almost as if he knew he was being watched. He'd settled himself down to sleep on the floor the night before, not trusting the narrowness of the pews, not wanting to fall off in the middle of the night. He blinked his eyes open and focused on her, looking at her, steadily. "What?" he asked, grumpily, really not appreciating her being that close whilst he was asleep.

She didn't speak immediately, not exactly sure how to word it. Because she was under the impression that this wasn't going to sit well with him by any stretch of the imagination, and that being the case...well....yeah. "...we seem to have a situation." she said, voice light. A situation. That was one word for it. At least with him waking up, the sick feeling settling over her did ebb a bit. Why, she wasn't sure, but she didn't examine the feeling. It probably had something to do with her stupid not wanting to be alone tendency now. Because at least if he was awake, she wasn't dealing alone. Or, she knew he was going to freak out, and was mentally prepared for that, or as prepared as she was going to be.

Brett sat himself up, immediately completely and totally awake. "What kind of a situation?" he asked her, his full attention on her as he assessed. It couldn't be an immediate danger situation, or she would have woken him, rather than simply watching him, so, they had time. But he wanted to know what was going on.

Eris' eyes didn't leave him as he sat up. "There's been a bit of a banquet left for us, and a note." she said, voice the same as it had been when she announced that there was a situation in the first place. Light. "The note was left where the door used to be. It said 'Relax, enjoy the food we've provided you. We will return to collect you later.'" she recited. She might have said more, but didn't, choosing instead to give him time to let that sink in.

Brett stilled and stiffened, feeling his heart begin to race and the panic rise. "...Say that again," he said, his voice low, controlled.

She saw the way his frame tensed up, and how any movement just stopped. Things were going to get interesting here in a minute, obviously. "They left us a note, saying that they've provided food, and they'll be back for us later." she said. "They left a banquet table, and taken the door away. It's just a blank wall. I saw them do it at the house...I think I told you about that..." she said, wondering if she had or not. But she vaguely recalled. Then again, her memory wasn't exactly to be trusted.

Brett moved as she talked about a blank wall, hauling himself backwards and up into his chair with surprising speed and power, rocking the thing on it's wheels a little as he barely lifted his feet into place before turning round and heading down toward where the exit had been. It didn't take much to see that there was just a wall there now and he turned, heading back towards the small room off to the side - these places always had a back exit, right?

Eris stood up, though she took her time, watching the faint form of Brett trying to find a way out. She climbed up onto the nearest pew, and sat on the back of it, feet on the seat. "There's no way out, Brett. Not right now." she told him, positive that he wasn't going to listen to her, but she gave it a shot anyhow.

He could feel the sweat breaking out over his body and he knew it had nothing to do with the exertion of wheeling himself around. His heart was racing, thumping so hard he thought it was going to break out of his chest. Or, more likely, that he was about to have a heart attack. he didn't want to die here in this building, but he could feel the walls closing in on him, it was getting dark, he had to get out, needed to get out, had to get out. He wasn't aware of anything else but finding an exit, not realising that he'd started muttering under his breath, repeating those words, "Have to get out, gotta leave, can't stay."

She watched, then stood, walking along the seat of the pew over nearer to him, so she could lean over and watch him better. "Brett...calm down." she said, knowing that was going to have no effect on his calmness. Really, her motivation behind it was possibly to redirect him slightly. It probably wouldn't work, but it might for a moment. If it didn't work, her vague idea that he had some claustrophobia issues? Were more than confirmed, and the ante was driven up. Some claustrophobia issues was going to have to be redefined as 'fucking horrible claustrophobia issues'.

Calm down? The bitch wanted him to fucking calm down? What was she, crazy? Well, fuck yes she was, weren't they all? Fucking crazy to be doing this shit in the first place and there was no way out. He could feel himself hyperventilating now, there were spots in his vision - he needed air, he couldn't breathe in here, it was pressing down on him, he couldn't breathe, there was no air, where was all the fucking air?

Eris watched for a few long moments, hearing the rushed, labored breathing going on. Then she got down, padding barefoot over towards him. "Brett--you're panicking. You need to calm down." she said, voice even. Steady. Again, she didn't actually expect it to work, but she figured she'd try. If her tactics had to start getting more overt, then they would, but she wasn't going to start with the heavy shit until it was clear it was necessary. Little things first. Like use of his name. Making sure she sounded even. Taking the limp out of her step as she'd walked over to him. She reached out, to touch her fingertips to his arm--and braced herself for a bad reaction. Vaguely, she wondered in the back of her mind if he'd ever hit a girl in his life. She was guessing not, but she was also guessing that could change really fast right now. Not that she cared. It wasn't like she hadn't taken a hit before.

Lost in his own tight ball of panic, Brett didn't really acknowledge her until she touched him and then the reaction was instinctive, lashing out aimlessly with his arm, not so much trying to hit her, but not trying to miss either.

Hey, look. There was that change she was talking about. She'd been braced for him to take a swing, but her reflexes left a little to be desired. So she caught it right in the stomach, which doubled her over and dropped her down to one knee, hand latched onto the arm of his wheelchair automatically--which all things considered, was probably not the best thing ever. About the only good thing was she'd been hit worse in her time. The not so good part was it brought her mind back to the last hits she'd taken, which had been right before the lights went out and her life had been completely altered. She really couldn't deal with thinking about that right now.

The jerk to his chair as she grabbed it really didn't help things as Brett continued to flail, pushing forward on the wheel bars and getting himself out of there - except there was nowhere to go. He ended up sat in the very centre of the church, inhaling shuddering breaths far too fast, his eyes wide, drenched in sweat and sure that he was going to die. His gaze hit the windows, those horrible, hideous, can't-really-see-through-them stained glass windows. They didn't even open - he could see no way of opening them, they needed to open. He fumbled at his side, grappling for the pistol he kept there - he'd make the fucking things open. he needed to be able to breathe.

Eris was down for a moment, hand clutched to her stomach, but then she looked up pushing herself up as she coughed for breath. She'd definitely had worse, though this sucked enough as it was. Then, she saw the gun. Fuck. That? Was bad. And she'd taken hits but not bullets and she didn't plan to start. So even if she'd started towards him--she backed off then, til her back hit the wall. She didn't even try to get his attention again, she just watched, and really hoped that he didn't turn the damn thing on himself.

For all his panic and stress, it never occurred to Brett to turn the gun on himself. Or on her. No, he had a target and that target was the nearest window as he aimed and shot a hole in the stained glass, right through the face of the queen of cups, sending shards of coloured glass flying.

Eris flinched when the gunshot went off in the small room. And as she watched, glass tinkled down in a rain of colorful edges. They hit the floor, or some did, some blew outside. A large shard fell back but didn't drop forwards, and it didn't fall out the back of the window, either. She kept watching for it to a moment or two, before she pushed off the wall to stare at it. Why wasn't it falling? Wait. It was leaning against something. And really she should look behind herself and see if she was by a window, but the weirdness of the large shard had her attention more.

Brett was already turning as he aimed at each window in turn until six of them stood with holes in them, yes still he attempted to fire more, the chambers of his pistol clicking empty each time. That took a moment or two to get through to him, but he could feel the air in his lungs now, it took the edge off his panic. Didn't calm him entirely, but it definitely took the edge off.

Eris felt the air on her back, felt the shards of glass clatter to the floor near her. And for a second there, she felt quite a lot as if all the air had left her lungs. Like she'd had the wind knocked out of her, even if she hadn't. She heard the gun clicking, and her attention focused back on him. She could see the light streaking in through six of the windows. Dim light, but light none the less. Glancing down at the floor, she saw glass looking back up at her. The face of...some sort of card. Someone. Slowly, she glanced behind her, to see how close the shots had been. Closer than she would have liked. Then she looked back at Brett. Well...at least he appeared to be a good shot. And if she was less busy thinking he shot at me in the back of her mind, she probably would have recounted that it was a good thing to know he could hit the mark even in the middle of a meltdown, but really, she was stuck on that first bit.

Brett felt around for spare bullets, but it clicked into place pretty fast that they were in one of the bags, nowhere immediately in reach, so, for now, he let the gun drop to his lap, closing his eyes and stretching his neck back, face towards the ceiling, as though he'd get more air in that way. As though he could pretend there was a way out now.

Watching him, she didn't move, not immediately. But goddamn. She was actually afraid if she disturbed him, that he'd do...something. She wasn't even sure what. So when she finally made herself, she did it as silently as possible, looking down to make sure she didn't step on any glass. At least she was bare foot and she could do it without drawing attention. Again, she stepped up onto one of the pews, and made her way across the floor that way, taking a wide berth around him to get over towards her own bags, which were up by the food and everything. She kept her eyes back over on him a lot, just waiting for him to snap again in a new way. Maybe throw the gun at her or...something.

Brett kept his eyes tightly shut for a long time, his body tense for all he was leaning back in a pseudo-relaxed position. His breathing slowly strengthened though, his breaths deepening, though his body continued to tremble as he fought to control the panic that was still right there. This couldn't be happening, this just couldn't be happening. It couldn't - how, why, even with the windows open, he couldn't get out of them, not like this, not like the fucking cripple that he was. If he wasn't, he would have been able to do this, but now, he couldn't do this - he was fucking useless and he was going to die here and it would have been better if he'd died on that mountainside - at least then he wouldn't have had to live through this fucking joke of an existence where every day just proved a little more how fucking useless he was.

Getting to her bags without incident, Eris reached into the side pocket of her bag, and took out one of her medications. She took the rest of hers out as well, setting them on the floor next to her, and she pulled out two bottles of water. Looking over, she was in the clear so far. There were pews between them, and she could barely see his head, still leaned back, from her position. Not taking her meds yet, what she did was open up one of the waters, and she started scraping some of the pill she'd taken out into it. It wouldn't do a lot, but if she could get him to drink the water not knowing it wasn't just water, it might calm him down some. That was her goal.

He felt cold - everything was cold, and he was shaking. God, he couldn't do this, he just couldn't do this. He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling, noting absently the pinpoints of coloured light, but not getting the fact the light was bouncing off the shattered glass in places. It was just pinpoints of coloured light on the ceiling, but at least the black dots dancing before his eyes were gone. Brett tried not to focus on the fact they were trapped - he tried not to focus on the fact there was no way out, tried to suppress the ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit that threatened to overwhelm him again.

She scratched half a pill into the water, then stopped. If she did get him to drink it at all, she didn't want the effect to be so obvious he'd know what happened. Right now, she didn't even know what he would do if he thought she'd drugged him. However, knowing that he didn't even take meds for his condition, and the fact that his immediate response to her being near had been to hit her--she wasn't thinking rationality was his friend right now. She capped the bottle again, and slowly rolled it between her hands to mix it some. Then she went and crawled up onto the pew she'd put between herself and Brett, looking over the back of it. "If I go over there, are you going to hit me again?" she asked, voice light.

Brett closed his eyes again and shook his head. "No," he told her, his voice sounding strained. had he hit her? He didn't remember. He was still shaking and he could still feel that panicked feeling lying in wait just beyond the horizon, ready to reappear at any moment.

She gave him another minute before she headed over. She had the bottle of water with her, though she stayed back from him. "You should drink something. I'd say eat but somehow I doubt that you'll touch anything they left for us. This is from our supplies." she offered, holding the bottle out to him, but still remaining back a little farther than he'd be able to swing. It was part practical, part to put him slightly less in the aggressor's seat. She hadn't deliberately manipulated in a while, but right now it was a good thing she knew how. If he was coherent enough to notice her at all, he would probably take away from it that he was making her nervous. So, she would be less likely to be seen as a threat, which--right now she wanted to be absolutely anything but a threat.

Brett reached out for the bottle, trying to stop his hand from shaking, but doing a pretty bad job of that. "Don't like being inside," he told her as he took it from her and held it for a moment before trying to get the cap unscrewed. He felt that need to explain that much, though he didn't look at her.

She took a step back from him when he had the bottle, and she was paying strict attention to him. He was shaking, she could see that. He was unsteady. she didn't think his breathing was as regular as it should be. All the little cues of stress. Not that she needed that pointed out to her--he'd hit her then shot windows til the gun went click, it didn't take a genius. "I noticed." she said, voice quiet. She backed up enough til her back hit the side of one of the pews and she slid down it, stomach protesting a little but she didn't make a show of it. "Claustrophobia. I'm assuming you picked it up from your experiment." she added, after a few moments. "...how bad does it get?" she asked, considering she'd need to know, really. And, say, if she should lock herself in the bathroom, if he was going to get violent again. "Is there anything that can help?" she added.

Brett dropped the bottle cap as he fumbled it off, spilling some of the water over the side of the bottle before he took a sip, not noticing anything unusual about the taste. "I - bad, it gets bad." He laughed, a harsh, almost maniac, self-depreciative laugh. "Bet you guessed that though, right?" he asked her, finally looking over as he took another sip, a trickle running down his chin as his hand shook again. "And yeah, shut up for nine months kinda fucks your shit up."

She nodded. "I imagine so." she agreed. "What helps you?" she asked. "What can I do to help you?" she asked. Beyond slipping you meds to calm you down slightly. Theoretically, it would take the edge off for him but not arouse suspicion. She was thinking if he caught on...there would be badness. "Anything." she added, so he'd at least have the idea that there weren't limits. And, really, she'd knew anything he told her she'd consider at the very least.

The laugh resurfaced. "Find me a way out of here?" he suggested, taking another sip of the water, hoping that it'd help at least.  It was still so cold, but cold was good - cold meant that the winter air was getting in - that's what he told himself.

She gave him the light edge of a smile. "I'll attempt that, if you want." she said. She got up, hand covering her stomach where it ached for a second, and she looked at the windows he'd shot out. Her eye caught on the one large shard of glass that had been propped up, what she'd started noticing before. Before he'd shot at her, that was. It was propped on...awesome. What looked like bars. That's why it hadn't fallen out with the rest of the glass. "Do you think I could have the gun, Brett?" she asked, turning her eyes back to him.

Brett looked at her, then down at the gun. He paused, then held it out. "I wouldn't shoot you, if that's what you're thinking," he told her, bluntly. He was lots of things, but he wasn't a killer - not even by accident.

She looked back at him. "Brett, you shot at me." she said, not looking back to the broken windows, where she'd been standing near them. "Did you even see me over there?" she asked. "And that was after you hit me. I don't think you're at your most rational right now. And while it's comforting to know you're a good shot? Being shot at..." she shook her head. She took the gun from him, since he held it out towards her. "Thank you." she said. "I'll give it back to you as soon as possible."

"I didn't shoot at you - I shot past you," he told her, taking another pull on the bottle - it was half-empty now and the thirst he'd had was passing. He was feeling a little better for it. He paused and slipped the bottle down between his leg and the side of the chair. "...Sorry for hitting you," he murmured, phrased as an afterthought.

Eris looked at him then flashed a strange little half smile. "Well, when I'm aiming over at you and pulling the trigger, we can talk semantics of shooting at versus shooting past, til then, I'm going to say it felt really bad, and be done with it. And it's okay. Not the first time I've been hit." she said, walking over to put the gun on the pew by her things, where he'd have to work to reach over them if he wanted it back quickly. Then she was back over, looking at all the windows. "You pack a good punch, anyways." she told him, mind trying to calculate the distance to the windows, and if she could find a way up there. If so she could at least look at the bars fixed to the building. See if she could unscrew bolts or something. That was, if Brett had a kit to work on his wheelchair, which she was imagining he did.

He was starting to feel a little calmer now and he quirked a wry smile. "Wasn't even really trying. Trust me - if I really wanted to hit you, you'd know about it." Not that he'd ever hit a woman in his life and he wasn't about to start now. But she didn't know that.

"Well for not trying, it hurt well enough." Eris told him, giving him a half smirk. Then her eyes were back up on the windows, and she climbed up onto the pew she was standing next to to get a slightly better vantage point. "What would it take?" she asked. "...to trigger you really wanting to hit me, that is." she clarified before he had to ask.

"Sorry, doll - I don't work to a recipe book. Not that easy," he told her, settling down into his chair a little more comfortably, letting go of the last of the panic and becoming increasingly aware of the fact his t-shirt was stuck to him, sweat-soaked. He couldn't bring himself to really care though.

"Okay, well, hypothetically speaking, just for the sake of argument, what might it take?" she asked, walking along the pew and stepping carefully up on the bench's arm, to get a higher vantage still. "I was figuring you for the type who doesn't hit girls." she added offhandly. "Would I be the first one you've ever cracked? Even if it wasn't necessarily intentional?" she asked. She strained a little as she craned her neck. "Have to say--you're the first person who's ever hit me that didn't mean it." she added.

"I figure from that that either people mean it a lot - or you just don't get hit," Brett commented, still not answering her question. He didn't see why he should. He rolled his head back up towards the ceiling, this time really watching the way the light played up there, feeling less freaked by the world. He was still tightly aware of everything, but he felt like it didn't quite feel like death right now. "Personally, I'm thinking the first one there, just as a guess. You have that kinda air about you sometimes, darling."

"What, that I'm the kind of girl who when someone hits her, they really mean it?" she asked rhetorically. "Guilty as charged." she said. "You didn't answer my question, though." she said. "You know, you blowing off everything I ever ask you is just a little unfair, especially considering what we're doing together." she added. She didn't sound angry about it, just like she was pointing it out. "I'm up front with you about everything. But you never even give me a tiny sliver back. Not very gentlemanly of you, love."

"Since when has life been fair?" Brett posed. "If it was fair, neither of us would be here right now." He paused, considering this. "Well, I wouldn't be anyway." He still wondered about her. What she'd been through had changed her, by all accounts, and he could accept that fact. And, seemingly, she'd not been a particularly nice person before - possibly she deserved what she got, though he doubted she would ever view it that way. "And anyway, I'm not a gentleman," he added, for good measure.

"Does it actually cost you that much?" she asked, getting down from the pew, and she looked at the floor, to see if they were bolted to it. Which it seemed like they were. She'd need to drag one over towards the window to climb up high enough. Then she walked to the altar, testing to see how heavy the podium was. Which was fucking heavy, but she started to drag it either way. "Honestly...why won't you ever give me anything? Unless you're too stressed out to care, that is. Why will you trust me to go out into the potentially fatal blue yonder with you--but you refuse to even answer simple questions that don't even have that much to do with you? I'm not asking for your life story."

"I don't play well with the other children. I'm not one for sharing," Brett told her, leaving her to her efforts and turning his chair, feeling relaxed enough now to carefully and slowly start towards their bags, waiting at each moment for that tight feeling to hit back in again. But he was cold now, he needed to get changed, and, if he could actually manage that tiny-feeling other room, wash some of the sweat off.

"Neither am I." Eris said. And she stopped. She stopped lugging the podium aside and let it drop to the floor with a bang that filled the room. She didn't even sound angry, it just sounded final. She didn't look over at him, to even see if he was paying attention or not, instead she walked over towards her things, and started digging out clean clothes.

"You just ask a lot of questions about other people," Brett added for her as he leaned forward and rooted through his pack, pulling out a few items of spare clothing. He wondered if the things he'd rinsed out last night would be dry by now. Whether he'd be able to make it into that room to find out, or whether he'd have to swallow his pride and ask her to retrieve them for him.

She didn't answer him. She just stood, and changed her clothes right there, pulling her socks on, though not her shoes. Still, she didn't look over at him at all, like he might not have been in the room, period. Sitting back down, she grabbed her water, and took her medication. She'd set it out before, when she'd been preparing the water she'd given him. She hoped she hadn't taken more and just forgot about it. It was entirely possible with the stress she was currently under, but she didn't think so. After swallowing them down, she stood and walked back up to the altar, and started to lift some of the tray lids to see what they'd been left to eat.

He figured the lack of answer was something in itself. if nothing else, it meant that a request to go and get his clothes for him wasn't going to be well received. Well, he didn't want to be dependant upon her anyway, or so he decided as he turned towards the door to the back room and stared at it, trying not to think about how at least out here there was air, and space and how that was just a normal sized room. Brett didn't actually move, just sat there staring at the door.

She was aware of him behind her, regardless of the way she appeared to have forgotten he existed. Mostly, she was tired. He'd freaked out, hit her, shot at her, generally been an irrational nutcase for a bit, and she'd taken it all just fine. But occasionally she tired of his 'I don't play well with others' track, especially when she was going far out of her way to help him. And today, after the inherent violence and all, she wasn't interested in continuing to play, if he wasn't going to play with her. Or at the very least do more than have her doing things for him while he did nothing, not even give her answers to questions that would cost him nothing. She'd go back to it, she knew. Her reasons for being with him in the first place hadn't changed. She didn't want to be alone, and he was better than anyone else. Hell, their entire relationship was based upon using one another. But the least he could provide was some semblance of conversation now and then. Looking down at the food, she found a plate, and put some pancakes on it, along with bacon, and some syrup. Grabbing a fork, she sat down behind the table on the altar, back to the wall, where she couldn't see Brett.

He couldn't do it. He knew that without moving. He just couldn't do it, not right now - he couldn't go in there. He sat where he was for several long minutes before he turned away, dumping what he'd collected onto the floor in frustration and heading off to find her. "I don't know," he told her, bluntly, as he came upon her. "What it'd take - I don't know."

Eris didn't look up at him right away, she finished taking a bite of her food, before her eyes ticked up and settled on him. She took a drink of her water, eyes still on him, and she capped it, setting it aside. "You're not really the type to hit a woman, are you." she said. It wasn't really a question. More just something to acknowledge. Someone like him, with the rescuer background, all of that...no. It didn't fit the profile she had of him in her head, based off of the limited information she had on him. He was probably raised to believe that boys didn't hit girls. She didn't necessarily get a chauvinist vibe from him, so she didn't think it had been hammered home that boys were better than girls. Just that you didn't smack them around. Of course, she could be wrong, but she didn't think so.

"No," Brett told her, some feeling behind that. The idea appalled him, if he was honest. Well, generally it did. "Though, I dunno - maybe if I ever got my hands on one of the fuckers running this show," he amended, thinking of that. He doubted that they were all men, anyway.

"Somehow I don't think any of them would register as male or female to most of us." Eris said, voice light, a little thoughtful. "or human." She wouldn't think so. They'd have to be sociopaths of a far higher caliber than herself. She was silent for a moment. "Was there anyone in your experiment that even tried with you?" she asked. "Or did everyone write you off?" she knew she'd asked things like that before, though she didn't recall if he'd answered her. Knowing him--emphatically not. Her tone wasn't pointed as she asked, though.

"Don't know," Brett told her, honestly. "People... usually get the hint." Which she hadn't, though he knew part of that had been a fluke as well. If she hadn't appeared the day everything went to hell - well, they were hardly friends or anything, but he'd actively and continually been telling her to fuck off up til that moment, but that day had changed things around.

"Well, that's what I mean by tried, though." Eris said, after taking another bite of food. "You take effort. Most people don't. Not really, and the second they do, most people bail. It's just the way humanity works. Most people don't want anything they actually have to work for, not on any real level. They want something or someone to fall into their laps." She shrugged one shoulder. "It's why my job was so easy a lot of the time. You just...find where the blanks are and fill it in. Smile at the right times, laugh at their jokes. If you get someone that wants the conquest, you put up just enough of a fight. I just have to wonder if anyone really tried with you. I can't decide if I think someone did, and you really did not notice, or if everyone wrote you off from the get go, or at least very quickly, due to the situation you were in." She took another drink of water. "I could kind of see both."

"Well, can't help you with filling in the blanks there - kept myself to myself when I could, and when I couldn't they were generally irritating fucks," Brett said, not blinking over disparaging the people he'd spent nine months of his life with.

She actually gave him a light little turn of a smile at that. It had a slightly impish nature to it, but only just. "Brett, I think that you'd be hard pressed to name a single person you don't consider an irritating fuck." she said. "I'd be shocked to hear you say something nice about anyone. Did anyone try to cater to you?" she asked. "Take you on as their own personal pet project, decide you needed 'saving'?" she asked. Because she could see that too. She knew that behavior as well. Someone looking to avoid their own problems by dealing with someone else's. And they'd of course to it to feel better about themselves.

Brett snorted a laugh. "One or two might have tried that bullshit - but it never lasted long. I don't need a fucking nursemaid," he said, which was a concept she seemed to have grasped but which others couldn't. He didn't need anyone to look after him and anyone who tried got disabused of any such notion really fucking quickly.

"No." she agreed. "You don't." Because she didn't think he did. Yes, there were things he couldn't do on his own. That didn't mean he couldn't do anything. Like her. "So there are possibly little girls running around, wondering why they couldn't melt your frozen heart?" she asked. "Why they couldn't get through to you, or get you to let them help you?" She could imagine that, clearly. And she really did assume it would only be females who would have tried.

Brett just gave her an unamused Look at that, which was an answer in and of itself - words really weren't needed. They both knew what he meant by it, or, at least, he assumed that she would.

"Just trying to mentally prepare myself for if I start getting questions from girls who start nosing around." she told him. "With a look like that, there's got to be at least one." She drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "If I get you a plate, will you eat something?" she asked. Since there wasn't exactly wheelchair access onto the altar. "I haven't died of poison yet."

"What happened to never admitting to anyone that you knew me, or vice versa? And are you assuming they're going to let us go back?" he asked her. Given that apparently they were going to be 'collected'. Then again, Everett had been put back, hadn't he? He'd been tortured, apparently by the scientists, he'd escaped - but then he'd been put back into the town, now, apparently, by those same scientists.

"I don't plan to admit that we know each other, I'm just thinking the eventuality is inevitable." Eris said, sighing. "And yes, I figure they're going to drop us back there at some point. The only real question is when. I mean, if they wanted us dead, they could have killed us last night. So obviously that's not their goal. Which means there's another game afoot. We just don't know what it is yet." She set her plate aside. "You really should eat something." she said, since he hadn't answered her about the food.

Brett quirked a humourless smile. "Now you're beginning to sound like me," he pointed out, referencing back to the other night by the camp fire. "Okay - I'll eat something. Though..." He took a breath. "Look - I left some clothes in the other room. Could you, maybe, go get them for me?" There was another pause. "...Please?" He hated asking that. It was official. Hated it.

"Yes, I'm sounding like you. Guess we trade off." She pushed herself to her feet, and nodded. "Sure." she said, not making a big deal out of it. Mostly because she knew it was hard for him, and while she could rub it in, she wasn't going to start now. Plus, he'd come over and given her a little of what she'd wanted, so, there wasn't any reason to deny him that. She got him a plate with some pancakes and other things on it quickly, and handed it over with a fork, before she went to collect his clothes.

He took the food, directing his attention to it as she walked off, relieved that she'd just done it, that he hadn't had to reduce himself any further by asking again. That he hadn't had to seem any more dependent, as if the chair wasn't enough. It was only a fucking room, for fucks sake, but the thought of it filled him with dread. Him! Him who'd once felt like he'd never be scared of anything. But that guy was long gone now, replaced with this shadow of a thing, taking out his frustrations on a plate of fucking breakfast food.

She got his clothes from the bathroom, pausing to splash some water on her face, and she grabbed a hair tie from the back of the sink that she tied her hair loosely back with, before she headed back out to him, She had them all over one arm, and held them out when she got back. "Their pancakes could use blueberries." she said.

Brett finished off the piece of bacon which was all that remained on his plate by the time she got back and leaned forward as he swallowed, stretching to place the plate on the floor. "Never been a huge fan of blueberry pancakes," he told her, volunteering that small piece of information, though he didn't add in anything about what he did like.

"You a chocolate chip man?" Eris asked, going back up to the table to snag another slice of bacon, before she put the covers back on the trays. "Whipped cream would have been nice too." she added. "But then again, the nanny used to do those stupid little faces with breakfast. Did hair and smiles with whipped cream." she said, looking back at him. "You done or do you want any more?" she asked.

Brett looked her up and down. "Why does it not surprise me that you had a nanny," he said, dryly. No, not surprised at all - he'd said she looked like the type who was used to being waited upon. She had that natural kind of self-assuredness, though it wasn't always present. He figured that it used to be, but now - now it was only there in snatches. You could still see it though, it was still there.

"Probably because somewhere deep down you think I was a spoiled little rich girl." Eris commented, offering him the bowl of cut fruit in case he wanted any. "Or possibly not so deep down." she added. "And you'd be right. I didn't see much of my parents growing up, there were just nannys. And none of them stayed around very long either."

Brett took a slice of apple and bit into it, chewing and swallowing, looking at her all the while. "You have anything to do with that? Miss 'I used to enjoy manipulating people'?" he asked her, figuring that there was at least a possibility that she had done.

"They tended not to like me." Eris said. "Sometimes I had something to do with it. It depended if they were serving my purposes or not." she admitted, taking out a strawberry to eat. "I don't actually remember when it first started, though. And, I don't know if that's courtesy of Captain Dupree, or if I just never remembered." she added.

"The perils of bored children," Brett said, blankly, collecting his clothes from her. He didn't ask though - it occurred to him, to wonder if the spoiled little girl, the manipulator, the self-confessed ruiner of lives had ever done anything like that, but he decided that right now, stuck here, trying not to think about the fact there was no way out and they could, in fact, be facing a whole fucking world of pain when they finally did leave here, he decided he didn't want to know.

She set the bowl on the table again. "Probably the culprit is closer to the perils of bored, overly intelligent children neglected for the most part, given far too much leeway, and..." she paused, something flickering behind her eyes but it cleared a moment later. "...no instilled sense of responsibility." she finished her statement. "But then again, I'm not really the type to go blaming things on other people. Not unless that was the goal. That stopped being the goal a long time ago."

"It did? When was that then?" he asked her, wondering if it was when she'd almost died, or earlier than that. He still didn't really understand what had driven her before, but then, he knew better than most that some things didn't matter - that she was as much the person she had once been as he was the person he'd been before his accident. Sometimes people changed. Sometimes who you were died, even if you carried on living.

"Right around the time the lights went out." Eris confirmed. She sat down on the edge of the altar, looking down at her sore feet. Reaching out, she picked lightly at dead skin from one of the popped blisters. "Maybe a little before then. Things...about a week before it happened everything's sort of a blur, I know I don't remember all of it." she said. "I know that everything was crashing down around my ears. I mean, it wasn't like I was surprised when he showed up."

And yet you didn't stop. He wondered what kind of person that took - that wouldn't see things coming until it was too late to do anything about them. Who would actually let things get to that stage in the first place. Who would actually pull enough shit in this world that someone would actively want to kill them. And not just spur of the moment emotional homicide, actual premeditated attempted murder.

She looked over at him, since he didn't say anything. "What?" she asked. "Am I supposed to be one of those types who can analyze the people around her, but never bothers to turn the lens around on herself? I used to be. It got me killed. Can't say I really figured I'd give it a second shot. Didn't work out so well for me the first time. I never really used to pause to think about things. Never had to." She shrugged one shoulder.

"Or, at least it seemed that way at the time?" Brett suggested, since it seemed clear to him that anything which got you almost murdered qualified as Doing It Wrong. At least, it did when it was her way. His way? He'd never done anything to ask for that. "You ever wonder what happened to those people whose lives you fucked with?" he asked, after a pause.

"I never used to." Eris admitted. "Wasn't important to me. After I was stuck in a room with brain damage and all, learning to live with that and relearning some things, I thought about it more. I know what happened to some people. I know who went to jail, things like that. Other people...no idea. I'm sure some had some heavy duty therapy ahead of them. Others probably went on to fuck people over in their own ways. It's not like everyone I fucked with in my life were perfect little angels to start with." she said. Then she paused. "I never really believed that much in truly good people. Everyone's got their dark side. And everyone likes to indulge it if they can just get one little voice beyond their own to give the okay. I've learned that that's honestly mostly what people are waiting for. Validation. If it's perceived as given? People will do terrible things." Then she paused, and looked over at him for a long moment. "I'm willing to bet, though, that you were a little angel. At least, until your life changed."

Brett shook his head and wagged a finger at her. "Don't you know, darling - gambling's illegal," he admonished, instead of giving her anything there. his life hadn't 'changed' in his opinion - it had ended. He wasn't that guy any more. Not that she was right. He'd been no angel, but he didn't want to talk about that guy. He didn't want to dwell on his past at all. "Anyway, two wrongs don't make a right, no matter who's giving it. And there must have been some people you failed to crack."

"Not that I remember." Eris said. "And two wrongs don't make a right?" she asked, arching a brow. "What do you mean by that? I never said my reasons for fucking with people was because they weren't angelic. Just saying that a lot of the lives I messed around with, they weren't pristine goodie goodies, that I just wanted to see ruined. It's not like I was going after nuns, or children, or whatever." Then she paused, eyes on him. "Am I wrong, sweetheart?" she asked lightly. "Were you not an angel?"

"Nobody's an angel - there's no such thing," Brett told her. "And what I meant what that you were starting to sound like they asked for it - that you just gave them what they'd be doing anyway. You took where they were going and you just offered a little encouragement. Like all you did was tell them it was okay. you were starting to sound like you were trying to justify what you did."

"You're reading in." Eris said. "I never did anything based on who deserved anything. Mostly it's just the criminal element that the stakes are higher." she said. "I don't have any justification for what I did. Beyond the experiment, where I was actually hired for it. I didn't pick those people out on my own. Though even then, really. I mean, what would I have for an excuse? I'm not an excuses type. I'm just explaining. Which you didn't ask about and don't want to know anyhow." she put in. "What could you have done that made you not an angel? I'm betting little things. Things that don't really count against you. Not like other people. Not like the rapists, or arsonists, or or embezzlers...I'm betting the worst you've done was get a little too drunk and fuck someone you regretted in the morning."

"Maybe I'm reading in - you asked me what I meant by what I said, I told you what you were sounding like. I thought you wanted me to answer your questions," he shot back, though there was, for once, no real bite to his words. He didn't figure it was needed there. He was just baiting her, though there was a possible edge of sarcasm. "As for me - I told you, gambling's illegal. you shouldn't bet, you know. And you don't know anything about me, not really - I could be any of those things."

"I'd like you to answer questions." Eris agreed. "I'd just like to know more about you." she told him. "And you know that. You just...want to use me, and get out of it without...giving anything." she said. "My point is that I don't know things about you. I'd hardly say I don't know anything about you. I think if I didn't? If I was really that far off--you wouldn't get so upset when I do peg you." she pointed out lightly. "And right now, I'm easy for you to use. I don't want to be alone. You know that." She shrugged one shoulder. "Sometimes I just wonder if you ever think about how long that's going to last. How much I'll actually deal with, since y'know...I'm pretty good to you, dearheart. All things considered." She didn't sound like she was threatening him. Because point of fact--she wasn't.

"No - you want to know about my past. You want to know about who I was," Brett corrected. "And me? I'm not that guy any more and I don't want to talk about him. That life's over. Gone. That's just the way it is. It doesn't matter now. So no, I don't really want to answer questions about something that's not relevant anymore. And I don't really ask them about things that aren't really relevant anymore either," he added. "As for using you? What the hell makes you think I'm using you anyway? Because of this? Because we're here and I needed a driver?" He shrugged a shoulder. "I never asked you for any of that, sweetie - you're here because you want to be. I never twisted your arm, I never tried to talk you into shit. I never asked for anything you choose to do. And I'm pretty sure I told you not to do some of it. And yeah, some days I wonder why the hell you bother."

Eris was quiet for a long few moments. "Who you were plays into who you are, even if it's just the shadows. So, regardless of if you want to forget who you used to be? That doesn't mean it's irrelevant. And somehow, I doubt you'd be any more forthcoming over anything about now. You just don't want to talk about yourself, period." she said. "Which is damn interesting, because when I first met you, you seemed pretty upset about the idea that people would only see you for the chair. But you don't want to give any indication you're more than that. I've gotten bits and pieces, but only by really trying hard." she said. "And I think you're using me, because even if you would probably prefer it, you can't do this by yourself. I even told you your best bet for it, and you haven't gone for it, so there's got to be something holding you back. It most certainly isn't my sparkling personality. I'm thinking it's because I'm willing." she continued. "I've got a weakness you can exploit." she said with a shrug of one shoulder. "And I'm so far letting you do that." She stopped for a moment, eyes on him. "Is that not how this works?" she asked, voice very light at the end there.

Brett looked at her, long and hard, then turned, wheeling away across the room, clothes dumped in his lap. He kept his lips tightly closed against all the retorts he had to everything she'd just said. He fucking hated it when she did that - when she saw right through him, left him feeling open and exposed, vulnerable. When his only way out would be to answer with the very thing she wanted - explanations, information. About the fact that he was afraid that all people would see was the chair because that's all that was left as far as he was concerned. About the fact that he was with her in this because she was willing, yes, but that that didn't equate to him fucking using her - though he couldn't put his finger on what that did mean, but she'd been wrong in her insinuations and he was good to her as well, it wasn't all one-fucking-sided, just because he wasn't poking his nose into shit that didn't matter anymore. And he didn't exploit - that had been her game and he wasn't like that and she could go to hell if that's what she was saying. And she could fuck off if she wanted - except she couldn't, could she? Because they were trapped in here and that really wasn't something he should be thinking of right now.

He wheeled himself off to the far side of the chapel, facing away from her, and stripped off his damp t-shirt, dropping it onto a pew before he pulled on the cleanish one, adding a fleece on top.

She gave him a while. A good five, ten minutes at least. For her part, she covered the food up again, and went and curled up on the pew. Which, after a little bit, she recognized it was actively starting to get cold in here. Awesome. So, she went up to the podium she'd started to drag before she'd given up, and she started dragging it again, a little at a time. The exertion would get her blood going. "So, assuming I'm wrong," she started, pausing to move the podium more. "How does this work?" she asked.

He hadn't looked round at her in that time, not once, not even when she'd started moving again. And he didn't look round when she spoke, though he answered her. "I don't 'exploit' people, or manipulate them, or any of that fucking shit. That's your game - or was. It's not mine," he told her, tightly.

She again waited a few minutes before she spoke again, getting the podium under one of the windows. She had to pause to push glass out of the way, what might have once been a page of something. Looking up, she carefully started to climb up on top of it. "Alright, so you don't do that." She noted that even though he was pissed at her, he didn't say it was still her game. Curious, that. She kept the observation to herself. "So...what is it then?" she asked. "Obviously, I don't understand." she said, without any hint of mockery in her tone.

Brett didn't answer at first, then he turned himself round, wheeling the chair about in a tight circle. "Just because you're willing, doesn't mean that I'm using you," he told her, meeting her eyes. He didn't try and address any of the rest of it. He wasn't going to start explaining himself to her, he wouldn't put himself in that position.

"That says what it isn't." Eris said. "Which you already established." she pointed out, meeting his gaze, one hand against the wall to keep herself steady. Falling wasn't a good option right now. "I asked what it is. Obviously I'm missing something. I'm looking at things from the wrong angle. What am I not seeing?" she asked. And it was an honest question, because she didn't know. She wasn't even just trying to needle him at current, she flat out didn't get it. And she didn't like not knowing the score, it threw her off. With a situation like they were in? She definitely wanted to know that, without having misconceptions.

Brett shrugged a shoulder. "What it is is simple - just two people who couldn't stand to be in that fucking town any longer," he said, after a long pause, though when he spoke his voice was calm and even. "I wanted to leave, you wanted to leave. So, we left. I'm not exploiting your weaknesses or whatever the hell you think - we just happen to be on the same road in this, but you make it sound like I dragged you into this, like I talked you into it because I... Because I needed some kind of fucking nursemaid to look after me or some shit."

"Again, you're reading in. Just because I was under the impression that you're using me doesn't mean that there's any implication that you forced me into anything. If you were--that doesn't even mean there's a negative connotation, like there's ill intent at all." she said, turning to carefully push some of the shards of glass from the windowsill, outside, so nothing landed on her and cut her. "I also didn't say anything about being a nursemaid. That's your head spitting that out because I'm sure that's what most people want to do with you and what you dislike the most. If I thought that's what you needed, I wouldn't be here. I'm not a nurse I'm also not a particularly good caregiver. I just said you can't do it alone. That's just practicality, it has nothing to do with the idea of coddling you or that you're incapable of taking care of yourself. In fact, if we're looking at our journey so far, you've done more to take care of me than I have of you. You helped look after all the blisters on my feet." she said, pushing more glass out the window, and shivering, because hey--fucking cold out there. "People use each other all the time. It's human nature--or, the human nature that I've seen. But if you're insisting that you aren't? ...alright." She was quiet for a second, glancing back over her shoulder. "I just don't like not knowing where things are, Brett. I'm sure you can understand that. I'm still not sure I know now."

"Look, in your world, maybe 'you're using me' doesn't have negative connotations. In my world? It does. When someone says that? It's a bad fucking thing. Especially when you start talking about exploitation. And add to that you're little line about you putting up with shit and how that's not gonna last and how you're oh so good to me? Like this is completely fucking one sided. Yeah, I took that shit badly," he told her, tightly. "So, okay - you don't like not knowing how things are? We're travelling together - or we were. Trying to escape this shit. And now, now we're..." He took a breath, trying to steady himself, feeling himself getting more and more worked up and that was a bad thing right now. "...Stuck here, waiting. So - that's it, game over. I'm sure given enough time you'll know even less, depending on what those fuckers decide to do with us."

She pushed more glass out, then turned, crouching down on the top of the podium very carefully, one hand down to grasp the little raised ledge of it to keep her balance, her back propped against the wall. "Not knowing what's going on with them I've learned to live with." Eris said. "But not knowing what's going on with you...that's not something I accept very well. And you seem to go out of your way to make sure I don't." she said. It wasn't accusational, it was her actually trying to figure all of this out, when some of this was pretty alien to her. It would be so much easier if he'd just own up to the way she saw it. Everything would be simple then. But here he was, complicating things. "You say it's not one sided. But...most of the time if you're talking to me at all, it's pointed and abrasive. The rest of the time you're not talking to me. And don't think I don't notice that you put yourself as far from me as possible, and wait things out so you don't have to deal with me. Which--honestly, that I get. You've got no reason to want to be anywhere near me, beyond the necessary. But that's why things don't add up for me. I don't..." a frown flickered over her features. "I don't understand." She was silent for a moment longer. "I didn't mean to accuse you of things that you find distasteful. I didn't mean to offend." And the more she tried looking at this, the more it unsettled and confused her. That wasn't good.

"So I'm not Mr friendly-chatty guy. I'm not going to suddenly open up and share with you, princess - that's not my style and if that's what you're after you're gonna be disappointed. If it makes you feel any better, you probably know more about me than anyone else in back in that hell hole. But when I say it's not one sided, I mean I've been pretty good to you too at times. When you've needed it," he added, because she didn't always need it, she wasn't fucking helpless, in lots of things she could take care of herself and he wasn't going to make a big thing about the other times.

"I'd be disappointed if you did. One of the things I like about you is you're a challenge." Eris said, not necessarily affectionately. More it was just a point. "When have I needed it?" she asked. "Besides the time I already mentioned." She didn't see what was so horrible about just...using someone because it was what he needed to do to survive. He didn't want to be in the town. He couldn't do it alone, and for some insane reason, he didn't want to try and get together with the people who would be much better suited to helping him. Which was another point she didn't understand, if he wasn't exploiting a weakness. If he was, it made perfect sense to her. But he seemed fairly offended that she'd even mentioned it. So...either he was in hardcore denial about his nature, or she was actually wrong. She just didn't like being wrong, especially because she couldn't actually connect together the right answer.

"Well, for a start, the day you fucking OD'd on your meds," Brett pointed out to her. He'd been keeping an eye on her and her medication ever since, making sure that she took it when she was meant to and only when she was meant to. He just didn't make a point of it - if she took it, then he kept quiet about the fact that he was watching, but he was watching. He'd never thought that she would appreciate him getting in her business in any kind of an overt fashion.

"I probably would have been fine." she said. "You just...stuck around. I was imagining it was so if I happened to die, you'd know you needed to find yourself a new partner." she said, again, not sounding like she thought it was a bad thing. "If people were doing the same kind of thing in a crisis situation, plane crash, avalanche, what have you, you wouldn't look down on them for using one another...why are you so upset about it seeming to apply to you?" she asked. She drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "I don't understand you." she concluded, standing back up and looking at the window ledge again, getting a little more glass off of it. "This would be a lot easier if you just..." she trailed off. "The other part I don't understand is why you aren't going for a better bet than with someone like me. Being wrong about the other parts there, that blows my theory on that." She paused. "I need your maintenance kit." She was reaching out the window to try and find where the bars where fixed to the building, and she thought she felt bolts.

"You made it sound fucking one-sided," he told her. "Now you're going on about using each other? Before? Fuck that - no, what you said, you sounded like you were making yourself out to be some hapless fucking victim and I was the manipulative bastard pulling all the strings, so don't try and turn this round on me now just because I got shitty about it. And if you want my kit, it's in that bag over there," he told her without missing a beat, pointing to a smallish grey bag at the end of one of the pews. He didn't like this, he didn't like the feeling he was being messed with and he wasn't sure whether he was or whether she was just clarifying things, but it had him edgy with that risk there that she was, in fact, messing with him and he'd been wrong about all her shit with how she'd left her old ways behind - had that just been a line? Was this all still some game for her where she tried to get shit out of him and then when he didn't bite she twisted things round to be completely fucking innocent, or make it sound like he was in the wrong.

She looked over when he pointed, then carefully climbed down to go retrieve it. "You know, you always seem to give me the benefit of the doubt, that you know I'm not the manipulative bitch I used to be, but you're definitely looking at me like that right now." she said. "I wasn't trying to make it sound like I'm some hapless victim. If you need it spelled out for you, here. The implication involved if I have a weakness to exploit...is that I need you for something, don't I." she said, looking through the bag. "Which means I'm with you for a reason, and it isn't your sparkling personality either. Beyond that glaring flaw in my own psyche, practicality dictates that if I'm doing this at all, I need someone who knows how to do this. I do not. You very much do. Add on top of that that you're the only person in town I want to spend any amount of time with, and probably one of the only ones who wouldn't try killing me if given the chance..." she trailed off. "I'm not trying to turn things around, and I still don't think that I've even said anything bad about you. You're just doing what you need to to survive, and so am I, in some ways. There isn't anything wrong with that." she said. She got what she needed and finally looked up. "But if that isn't what you're doing, then I don't know what it is, and that? Scares me."

"I'm wondering, yes - it's either that or you and I seriously have very different ways of looking at the world if you honestly think that what you said to me wasn't at all offensive. So, it's either that or you're still playing games and I fucking hate games. Especially since I doubt very much your claim that I'm probably one of the only ones in town who'd not kill you given half a chance. Yeah, possibly the people in your experiment hate the ground you fucking walk on, but, girlie, wake up to the fact there were five fucking experiments. You like a bet - do the math, the odds are in your favour," Brett told her, watching as she went through his bag. "And fine - you put up with my shit just because you need what I know. I'm not exploiting that particular weakness just because you wanted to leave and so did I. That's not 'using each other' - that's what's generally known as 'working together towards a common goal' or, more succinctly 'teamwork'. Now that might be a foreign fucking concept to you, but it happens all the damn time. Deal with it."

"...I'm fairly positive that you and I view the world in entirely different ways, sweetheart." Eris said, pushing herself to the feet. "Everyone's view of the world is different, of course, but your view and my view...I'm pretty sure that it's damn near polar opposites." then she paused, as she walked back over to the podium. "Or...maybe just how you used to view the world would have been opposite to how I did. Maybe not so much anymore. I'm just sure that you were a good person. It's well established that I was not." she said. Climbing carefully up onto the podium again, Eris turned her attention to the window, and tried to figure out how she was going to do this. She paused before looking back at him over her shoulder. "You weren't there, Brett." she said. "The people in my experiment? The way things went? I hadn't done anything to most of them. We're talking maybe two or three out of forty at the point where I was assaulted. And the things I had done? Nothing major. Minor little things just to get people's heads turning a little. And...they all looked at me like I was a fucking vampire. They took the self-proclaimed murderer over me. And they didn't have any reason to. But they did it anyway. Even people who were supposedly with me on things...they didn't say or do anything. Not even a word... You have no idea what it's like to... And Everett's there, and..." she trailed off, and turned back to the window. She didn't say anything for a long time, and finally grabbed one of the bars to try and pull herself up really not at all sure she wouldn't drop herself down and break something just for trying. She didn't even know what she was going to do if she did manage to get the bolts off of the bars. It wasn't like Brett could get through. But it was something, and somewhere in there, she was doing it because he needed a way out, so she was making the effort. She didn't correct him on missing out the other part of what she got from him, she imagined he'd left it out deliberately, and she didn't so much mind that. "...fine. Consider me dealing." she said, tone flat. Distant. But at least it wasn't that edging into distressed that it had been before she'd stopped herself talking. She managed to get up to the sill, though it was a tight fit. She held onto the bars tight with her free hand, and slid one leg through the bars, only able to put her lower leg through. Her thigh was too wide to manage it. But it gave her a little better hold, even if it was awkward, and fucking freezing. Sliding her arm through as well, she thought she was balanced alright, if awkwardly and not at all comfortably. What with the half hanging out the window over the floor and podium. This sure as hell wasn't going to work long term. If at all.

Brett looked at her, watched her, pissed at this entire exchange, unsettled by the whole thing - though he didn't know how much was left over from his earlier panic attack. But still, fuck, he hated this. "What do you see?" he asked her, after a few minutes, wanting to let that all go - could they just concentrate on the positive for a while, maybe that would be easier.

She paused, and stared out for a few moments. "Nothing." she said. "Trees. Grass. Sky, but the kind of sky that's not really a sky, it's just...endless grey, no features." she told him, shifting again to reach down, trying to find where the bolt was again. Feeling it, she opened up the kit, and tried to find the most appropriate tool.

"I meant... Okay, what are you working on?" he asked, clarifying. He assumed there was no way out up there, but then it wasn't like he was going to be crawling out any windows anyhow, so that didn't change his 'holy fuck I'm trapped' mental baseline at all. In fact, he was a little surprised that he was dealing with it so well right now.

"Oh." she said. "There are bolts fixed into the wall, holding the bars on." she said. "...can't say I see them. But I can feel them." She didn't say more than that, and very carefully slid her arm down again, to attempt to twist the bolt. Not that she really expected anything to work. But, she said she'd try. Or, maybe she hadn't. Maybe she just decided she would, and she never actually articulated that. She couldn't remember.

Had there been bars on the window yesterday when they'd entered the building? He couldn't remember - which was a fact that pissed him off right now. Would he have even gone into a building that had barred windows? But, it had been raining and he hadn't spent that much time contemplating the exterior of the chapel - he'd just wanted to get dry for a while. "There's some oil in the bag as well if they're stiff," he offered, though the back of his mind had to wonder whether they were welded into place. He knew that that's what he'd do if he wanted to keep people in. Especially if he knew he was inside.

She nodded, but didn't actually say anything out loud. Instead, she was concentrating on trying to get it to budge, and not dropping Brett's tool. Even if he could just get a new one at some point, she didn't especially want to hand him something new to get cranky over. Wasn't really the best way to go about things today. Not when her mind was drifting back on things she didn't really want to be thinking about.

Brett tried not to think about how he wanted to be able to be up there, tried not to let himself twitch about the fact that he'd be able to do something if he was up there. He knew he was fucking useless now, but there were just times when that fact was really hammered home. This happened to be one of them. All he could do was watch her, that was all.

She tried until she grit her teeth, and then made a sharp, half stifled cry, snatching her hand back wrench clattering to the podium and from there to the floor. She cradled her hand to her chest then thunked her forehead against the bars for a moment, breathing in the cold air.

"You okay?" Brett asked, ignoring the skittering wrench - he could find that later. "You cut yourself on glass?" he added, wheeling himself forward towards where she was.

She shook her head. "I'm fine." she said. "Just...muscles seized up." she explained. She shook her hand out, which still didn't like her, and then she started to lower herself back down to the podium. "I seriously doubt I will be able to do anything with that." she told him, before she got back down to the floor, and she carefully made her way to the bathroom, where she turned the hot water on, plugging the sink. She had little scratches on the back of her thigh and knee, but that was all. Nothing that was even properly bleeding. Or, she didn't think so, anyways.

Brett let her go, wheeling himself over to where she'd been and looking up. There was no way he could get himself up there - even if he could consider it, he was too big to do what she'd just done, and with a pair of fucking useless legs, it was all a non-starter, yet he looked all the same, nevermind that even if they got out he'd not be able to go anywhere - they'd never pry off enough bars to get the chair out, and he'd be reduced to crawling through the mud. He closed his eyes, trying not to panic now that it had been confirmed there was definitely no way out, but the panic didn't come, not full-blown anyhow. That almost worried him more than anything else - was he that resigned to his fate? When would they come for them? Was it the knowledge that they were now the only way out?

Eris stopped the water when it had filled the sink, and after shutting the door of the bathroom, she washed up some. That, after soaking her hands for a while. It gave her some time, which currently she thought she needed, and hey--she couldn't just go for a walk, now could she. So, she just took her time. It was also warmer in the bathroom, even if it wasn't by much. Curling up with her chin on her knees, back resting against the door, she shut her eyes for a while, time kind of slipping away from her for a bit.

Brett didn't move for a few minutes, mulling everything over in his mind and feeling the sense of disgust in himself, in what he was, rising up once more. This was what he'd been reduced to, when he thought he could fall no further. Waiting for someone to come and collect him, to take him away, wiling to accept the pain he anticipated afterward, just to get out of this box. He truly was pathetic.

Turning, Brett made his way to the bathroom door before knocking on it, not too hard, but audible. "How you doing?" he asked, making no move to actually enter the room.

The knock startled her a little, though she didn't make any sound. She just tensed up, and realized she'd sort of...spaced a little. "...fine." she answered him. She assumed he needed to use the facilities, and stood, emptying the water from the sink, and after she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, she opened the door up again, and walked past him, already moving towards her next project. Walking up the aisle, she stopped in the center of the church, looking around. "Hatchet?" she asked, half looking over her shoulder, but not fully, not enough to actually look back at him.

"Red bag," Brett told her, turning his chair round to face her as she walked off. "You know the walls are made of stone, right? That hatchet's not going to get through them." It'd be dull long before that happened, they'd wear the blade down to nothing.

"I know." Eris answered him, walking over to the red bag, vaguely wondering why she was doing this. It wasn't like she was freaked out over being locked in there. Yes, she would have preferred to go for a walk and give herself space but she didn't need it. Either way, she kept going, and walked to the red bag, getting the hatchet out of it. Taking the plastic cover off of the blade, she walked over to where the door used to be. It was just that blank wall now. But it was plaster. She didn't bother removing the note that had been left on it, before she took the first experimental swing.

He watched her swing the hatchet a few times before he headed over, coming at her from the side so that he wasn't going to in any way get hit. "And you'll get even less far like that," he told her, watching the way she was swinging the thing. "Give it here, I'll do it," he added, even though he knew it was fucking pointless.

She looked over at him, then looked at her progress, which granted wasn't a ton, but it wasn't exactly precision work, bashing a wall in. But, it would give him something to do, so she didn't argue with him, and instead handed the hatched over to him, walking away again. "Thought you needed to use the bathroom." she said, tone absent as she walked away. Then her eyes turned on the buffet table. Walking over, she took one of the big metal bins, and dumped it's contents into another one, bringing it over towards the podium.

"No - I wanted to check up on you," Brett told her, eyeing the wall for a moment and angling himself as best he could before he swung. It was an odd, unfamiliar angle - he'd used a hatchet countless times in the past, but all of them had been whilst standing. Still, a couple of swings in and he found his rhythm, sending plasterwork flying.

She'd expected him not to answer her. So, when he said that, she looked back over, watching him swing the hatchet a few times. "Why?" she asked. And it was clear that confused her. Like him sticking around the night she'd messed up her medication and had compounded things by drinking a whole hell of a lot. She still didn't quite understand that either. She walked a few paces around the room, glancing around for something she could burn. Not something too heavy, just enough to see if the smoke would cooperate and travel through the window, or not. Too bad they didn't have more cards to burn. Wait...they had some firewood. Hopefully it wasn't still wet. Going to get one thinish log, she dropped it into the bin, and went to get her lighter.

"To make sure you were okay," he responded amidst another cloud of plaster bits and a couple of largish falling chunks. He swung once more and got the dull thud of something harder underneath. He stopped and leaned forward, pulling bits of loose plaster off the wall.

She held her lighter underneath the curl of bark on the log, eyes over on him. She didn't say anything for a long time, but felt unsettled. Confused, and unsettled, which was never a very good combination. "I told you I hadn't hurt myself." she said, though it was a belated sort of statement, considering she'd heard the thud, and it had distracted her attention for a moment. She was figuring that they'd put something up like that just to tease, but...she'd wanted to try anyhow.

"I know," Brett said, simply, as he saw the stone underneath the plaster. Fuck. Not that he'd expected anything else, but still, it was incredibly disappointing. "Look, girli..." He stopped, dropping his head for a moment. This was ridiculous. This whole fucking thing was a joke. The world's least funny fucking joke. "What's your name, anyhow?" he asked her, not looking in her direction, not raising his head at all.

She leaned her back against the wall as the wood caught, though it was a sluggish sort of flame, that she was thinking she'd have to coax along. Her attention wasn't on that anymore, though, it was leveled on Brett. "Are you asking because you really want to know? Or are you just tired of calling me 'girlie' when you don't want to come up with a pet name?" she asked. Her tone wasn't pointed, it just happened to be important to her. She wasn't even sure she would be able to explain why, if pressed. So, she hoped he didn't ask.

"Can I have both?" he asked, after a moment. Most people it wasn't a problem with - he didn't ask people their names, but they without fail offered them anyway. Until her, she hadn't and somewhere along the lines it had turned into a battle of wills, in his head at least. How long before one of them gave. Except here and now, that seemed as fucking pathetic as he was. Just another example of the uselessness there.

She thought for a moment. "Yes." she said simply. She'd give him both. Keeping her gaze on him, she made a decision. Or maybe she'd made it before, and it was just coming up now, when really, she had figured this could go on indefinitely, with him never knowing her name. "Julia." she answered him.

Brett nodded, but made no comment on the name. He didn't even know if he'd ever actually use it - he rarely referred to anyone else by their names even when he knew them. "There's a knife - actually, there's a few. In the bottom of the red bag. If we're going to try and get through the wall, we'd be best off trying to loosen the mortar around the stone rather than hacking our way through, which wouldn't work even given a few years. You wanna bring them over?" he suggested, before going back to clearing more plaster from the wall.

She looked at the wood again, then lit another bit up before she did that, going to get him what he asked for. She also grabbed one of the heavy iron candle holders, placing the candle nearby to light up the area better, and keeping the other so she could hit at the stones a while. They needed hammers, or...something. She held out the knives, figuring they were his, and he could pick out what he was giving her, and what she was going to be doing with it, because while she got the concept...she'd never done anything like it before.

Brett slipped the hatchet down by his side and took one of the knives, a smaller one - it happened to be a vegetable knife, though they were all just kitchen knives. A blade was a blade and he'd figured they'd need to be hunting at some point if they were gone for any length of time. Clearly, that eventuality wasn't going to happen now, but he'd brought them anyhow. He looked back towards her fire, but it seemed to be contained, so he turned his attention back to the wall, starting to use the blade to simply scrape away at the lines of mortar visible between the stones.

Eris took the heavy base of the candle stick, and hit it against the wall, sitting down indian style on the floor, amidst the plaster bits. It wasn't like she cared about getting herself dirty. Her frame of mind had shifted some, it was more thoughtful now than morose, which for a bit there... "Do you think if we set the place on fire, they'd just let us burn, or they would come in and 'rescue' us?" she asked, glancing up at him for a moment, before hitting at the wall again. If it was fresh mortar, it probably should be weaker, though this didn't seem to be showing signs of that.

"I wouldn't like the odds," Brett said, leaning back a little as she started to hit at the wall, instinctively more than any real fear that she was going to hit him. "And if that's a signal fire-" which he'd assumed it was, "-then I'd be thinking that the only people who are gonna see it will be people who already know where we are. But he hadn't tried to talk her out of it, anything that got him out of here sooner rather than later was good for him - which was what sent him back to scratching at the wall.

She smirked faintly. "Name one thing you actually like the odds on." she said, turning her eyes up on him as she set the candle holder aside. The mortar wasn't going to give way that way, so, she just reached up to take one of the other knives to start scratching as well. "And it isn't a signal fire, though that would be nice. You've just shot out six of our windows, and I'm freezing. And it's just going to get colder in here. So, I wanted to see if the smoke would actually go out the windows or not, if I tried to build something up for heat. Death by smoke inhalation isn't really high on my list of things to do today. I already suffocated to death once, I wouldn't really go for it again, nor take anyone with me."

He looked across at her and shrugged before going back to scratching again. "Don't you know, princess? I don't like the odds on anything. I'm a depressive, humourless bastard. And if you're cold, set up the tent and crawl inside for a while, smaller space means it'll heat up faster with you in it," he recommended.

She looked at him. "Maybe later." she said, scratching again, even if she knew they'd tire of this far before it got them anywhere. But it was something to do. And it kept him occupied, and she didn't know if his freaking out would return at any point. She didn't especially want him going off the deep end by himself. "And you're not entirely humorless." she commented. "I've seen you smile." Ticking her gaze back up at him, she gave a little amused half smile. "And I know true bastards. You don't qualify. But don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

He didn't pick her up on that - and he didn't ask her to qualify. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, and she was far too observant sometimes for comfort. If she wanted to expand on that, she would, but he'd asked enough questions for today, and if he asked for an explanation, she'd ask for his opinion on its accuracy in return and that he definitely wasn't prepared to give.

Her mind went further on the subject, but it played back into their earlier conversation, the one that had him going off to pout in the corner, so she didn't share her thoughts. Instead she just went back to work, scratching away and thinking that a chisel would be really nice around now. She let her mind drift over things, drifting towards the morbid, though she didn't think she should bring those up either. She almost wanted to, but hesitated.

He let the silence linger, leaning forward to blow mortar dust from the groove he was working on, brushing the worst of it out and pushing the knife deeper in, levering off some more loose plaster from the top of the stone he was working around. He was good with silence, especially given their conversations so far today. And it was helping to have something to concentrate on.

She kept working too, coughing a little at the dust, but then again, she was down on the floor with a lot of plaster dust as well, so that really wasn't a huge surprise. She was thinking about the scientists, and what would happen to the if they really were just...brought someplace and tortured. Specifically, she was thinking about if they did anything to her that made the brain damage worse. Really not the world's cheeriest of subjects, but it was there.

Brett was trying not to think about the pointlessness of all of this. What were they really going to do? At best they'd be able to shift the mortar from around a couple of stones, but if this place was properly built, then those stones could be a good foot thick, maybe. And even if they managed to get the mortar out, they'd probably be too heavy to move - plus there was the possibility that this was a double thickness wall, something which made him look back round at the windows, trying to judge depth from them.

She noticed his attention shift, and glanced up. "What're you looking at?" she asked curiously, sitting back slightly and she stretched, shaking her hand out again to give it a rest once more. The cramping in it was just getting worse, which she had expected, and was more or less ignoring. She'd live. Just like she lived with her feet being all kinds of fucked up. It was temporary pain, and she wasn't going to make a fuss about it.

"Trying to figure out how thick the walls are," Brett told her, gesturing to the windows. "Easiest way is to look at the windows, see how inset the ledges are, you can figure it out that way - assuming that this wall's the same thickness," he added, since it was an assumption.

Eris pointed to the scuffed areas on her pants. "About this thick." she said measuring it out between her fingers then holding them up for him so he'd have a more accurate idea. "So...thick, but not six feet thick or anything. Definitely pointlessly thick, considering our timeframe." she assessed. "But it's better than doing nothing, and otherwise we might have to think up little games to pass the time. I'd of course suggest truth or dare, you'd shoot me down, and we'd probably start wondering if 'I Spy' is out, or if either one of us remembered a deck of cards."

"Well, the note didn't exactly define 'later', did it," Brett pointed out, though he wished he hadn't had that thought. 'Later' could, in fact, be a very, very long time. But he agreed with her - what they were doing at the moment was pointless with a view to getting out. The only point of it was to give them something vaguely constructive to do.

"No, they didn't." Eris agreed. "But somehow I doubt they'll keep us waiting all that long. They might have fun, interesting games lined up for us." she said, eyes back on the scratching as opposed to him, even if she was very aware of him there. "Or they could have a lot worse." she said. She was quiet for a long time after that, mind drifting back and forth along the same lines it had been previously. "Are you afraid?" she asked, looking up at him. "Not of this situation, but of what comes next." she clarified. Because she knew right now, he wasn't doing well. This, however, could be nothing. Could be cake in comparison to what they had coming.

Brett considered that. Was he? He didn't know. He'd never been someone who was frightened by the unknown though. It had never daunted him, never put him off. It was the known that scared him these days - the unknown was something which called to him, it always had, but possibly that was its own kind of fear, born of a tendency towards recklessness. "No, I'm not afraid," he told her, eventually. "Are you?"

She definitely didn't rush him on his decision, giving him the time to think about it. "No." she said. "The only thing that keeps popping up in my mind that bothers me is the possibility that if what Everett said was true, and we are taken and tortured, that they'll make me worse. Can't be that hard of a shove to go from...I suppose I don't actually know how to rate what happened to my head. Mild? Maybe? I'm not sure. But it wouldn't take much to push it to severe." She was silent for a moment. "I don't especially want to exist like that."

"No, I can imagine you don't," Brett agreed with her. He knew the one thing he definitely feared was being helpless. Now or in the future. It was why he avoided so many people. He refused to be dependant, or even be seen to be dependant. Or even give an appearance of being seen to be dependant. He'd go through hell and go without first. Unfortunately, the answer to 'what more could they do?' was fairly clear right now.

"...it's difficult enough waking up one day and realizing that you aren't who you were when you went to sleep last." she said, working a little more intently at the scratching. "The idea of losing even more seems..." she paused, trying to think of a word, but in the end she didn't finish the thought. She figured that really, if anyone understood what she meant by it, he would. Though with her, it wasn't just not being able to do certain things anymore. Any more brain damage for her, and she may wind up not remembering how to read, or having the mentality of a child, at best. Or worse, there was always the idea of being in a vegetative state. Braindead but kept on breathing.

Brett concentrated intently on his portion of the wall, not answering her for a very long time. "Would there ever be a point at which you'd rather not carry on?" he asked her, a totally serious question. If he turned it on himself, he didn't know the answer he'd give. He'd thought at times in the past that he'd reached that point, yet he was still here, though some days he wished that he wasn't, thought that it would just be easier if he'd been able to have reached that point.

"Yes." Eris answered, and it was one that she didn't actually have to think about, because it had been on her mind for the past while or so. And it had crossed her mind before now, before the town, everything, this was just the first time she was faced with the idea that it was a true, and possibly imminent possibility.

Brett knew from the single word answer that she hadn't had to think about that one, not at all. "When would that be?" he asked her, almost gently, a tone raised simply as a result of that fact.

Her hands stilled for a moment, and she didn't look up right away, instead she stared down at the quarter inch she'd carved into the wall. If it was a quarter inch. Then she looked up at him, his tone getting through to her more than anything else. "If there wasn't any shreds of me left." she said. "Right now, I'm not who I used to be, and you seem to accept that. But I know who I was. But if I stopped remembering where I came from. If I stopped remembering who I am now, even if I'm not always certain who that is." If I ever do. "If I got so bad that I was child-like. Or if they dropped me down where I was brain-dead, or as good as." she said. "Given a choice, I wouldn't want to live out those scenarios." She met his gaze, since he was looking at her, and held it.

He held her eyes for a moment, then nodded, not looking away. "Understood," he said, though he didn't explain that comment any further. He took what she'd said on board though, filed it away. He didn't make promises to people any more. There was little point relying on a cripple - who would want to. He wouldn't put himself out there to fail, but it was there all the same. He turned back to the wall, leavering out a chunk of mortar.

She kept her eyes on him after he'd looked away, and in the end she smiled. It was small, but genuine. Then she looked back to her work and returned to it. Hearing that made her feel better in strange ways. Even if he didn't help her with that--and she wasn't sure he wouldn't--he knew. Which meant he could pass those wishes on, just in case. Not that she knew anyone who would do her any favors, but there were people who would probably leap at the chance to finish her off. And she really couldn't be bothered to care who ended things for her, so long as they ended. If things got worse for her. Not before then.

He missed the smile, not looking at her again as he hollowed out another corner down to a couple of inches and blew the dust clear. That was almost half way round now and he stopped for a moment, looking at the blade and testing its edge. It was almost blunt now, but that wasn't surprising. "What are we going to do when they come for us?" he asked her, finally looking round.

Eris looked back at him, watching his eyes for a moment before she answered him. "What do you want to do?" she asked. "In my experience, we wouldn't ever know. We could stay up all night, and we'd just...wake up somewhere else, and not even remember falling asleep. I think the scientists have a great resource to tap into of roofies. But either way...just because I don't think we'll ever see them coming doesn't mean that I wouldn't be willing to say, curl up with the shotgun. If we wanted to go that route."

Brett ran his thumb along the edge of the bade again, his eyes batting down to it, then back to her. "Just thinking that if we were planning on fighting, dulling these is probably a bad plan." For that matter so had been using up their ammo on shattering windows, but he'd needed to do that, he'd needed the air. It might be cold now, but at least he could breath - he couldn't breath before, he'd needed it. Just like she'd needed to do this.

"Would you want to let them get that close to you?" she asked. "I'd say the knives or the hatchet would be back up. The firearms would be the main weapon. You've got more ammo." she said. And she would of course, be giving it back, now that he was calmer about everything, and not twitching so much. "We've got an abundance of broken glass as well." she pointed out. "If we wanted to surround ourselves with it, just for noise factor, and to be a pain in the ass for them."

Brett considered this, bringing his hand up to massage his forehead. "True," he allowed. "But would we really be any more than that? A pain in the ass? Hell - they disappeared a door on us. Don't you think they would have taken away our weapons if they'd thought we'd be any threat?"

Eris put her knife down, and shifted, leaning her back against the wall so she could look up at him better. There was the slightest little turn of a smile to her lips. "Baby," she said. "Since when are we going to stop trying just because logic dictates that it's not going to pan out?" she asked. "We're here. We left, knowing that they'd find us eventually, or I did. We discussed it. We're even grinding at a wall that we know we're not going to get through." she pointed out. then she paused. "Unless the idea that it might work bothers you." she said, latching onto that idea. "The idea of some random shot you take actually killing someone. Is that it?" her tone wasn't at all mocking, it was more honest, because it was something she would need to know. "Will you be unable to take a life, if we're in that kind of a situation?"

"If it was pointless, yes," Brett told her. "I've never bought into that 'take a few of them with me' bullshit. This isn't war, it'd just be killing some poor bastard who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. If it wouldn't actually achieve anything..." he trailed off, shrugging slightly.

"In the wrong place at the wrong time?" Eris asked, arching a brow. "Would you consider the people who could in fact, capture and torture us 'poor bastards'?" she asked. "Doesn't seem to me like they'd be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Seems to me they'd know exactly what they were in for. What they were going to be allowed to do." She was quiet again for a moment. "What would you consider to not be futile?" she asked. "And would you not be able to stay with me if I didn't hold the same opinion and I pulled the trigger on the first son of a bitch who came in for us?"

"If there was actually a chance - and a real chance. Then it wouldn't be futile. And just because their motivations might not be exactly fucking pure doesn't mean to say they're not people, not human. And I'm not just gonna take a life on some kind of fucking revenge trip that's not going to achieve anything other than get blood on my hands," he told her, matching her tone - explanation rather than anger. "So if the first son of a bitch who came in for us was the only son of a bitch, then maybe that wouldn't be futile. They come in force? That's a fucking waste of time and pulling that trigger is revenge, payback, not an escape attempt."

Head leaned back against the rough stone, she kept her eyes on him, something akin to curiosity in her eyes. "You would need it to be a pure motive on your end." she said, understanding, even if she herself didn't adhere to the same ideal. "You didn't answer my question. Would our arrangement change, if I wasn't so pure of heart?" she asked. She paused for a moment. "And does this mean that I can't count on you to have my back? If that's the case...I merely need to know." She wouldn't necessarily hold it against him--it would just be something she would have to keep in mind at all times.

"I don't know," Brett admitted. "About our arrangement. But - I have your back," he gave her. Until it came to that, he had her back. After that? He wasn't sure - if she killed one of them just to see him dead, he didn't know how he'd take that.

She nodded, taking that in. Though she didn't know if the answer added up in her head. She expected that the arrangement would change, though he gave her an 'I don't know' for an answer, and she would have thought that the answer would have been a definite no. So, she wasn't sure what to think, exactly. "You wouldn't see it as self defense?" she asked. "For me...I don't want them taking me anywhere. I don't want to be taken off someplace and played with. I don't want to be brought back to town, either." She paused, then added one more piece of the puzzle. "I don't want them touching me." There was silence a moment and she glanced away before looking back. "Just because it wouldn't work doesn't mean I would want to lie back and let them do it."

"That's why I don't know," Brett told her, quietly. "Because I know some of what you've been through and I've been through my own shit as well. And yeah, I can see self defense coming up a lot and yeah, that would make the difference. If that's what it was." But he could also imagine there'd be some who would simply be out for vengeance - hell, he'd been surprised in those first few days that there hadn't been more trouble when people figured out there were interns in town. The day that stupid fuck posted on the journals, Brett had half expected a lynching in the town square.

Eris didn't let her eyes leave his, just watching. taking in everything about him in those moments, because she imagined that it was quite important to the make up of him as a person. She was just having a lot of moments today, learning about him. He was a fascinating person, in her eyes. "How would you judge?" she asked. "How would you judge me?"

He looked at her, meeting her eyes for a moment before he returned to the wall, blunted knife or no. "On your actions," he answered. He had no other answer for her. Just what she did, and what motivated that. What she chose to do with it was up to her, but he knew that if she went on a revenge kick, he couldn't and wouldn't support her in that.

"How would you be able to tell, I mean." Eris clarified. "How would you know what my motivations were?" She paused, and then shifted slightly, looking at his progress on the wall before returning her eyes to him. "And why did you bring up the knife, if you wouldn't really intend to use it?" That was curious. It had obviously crossed his mind, but when faced with the stark practicality of the question...it was so much foggier a story.

"There's a difference between fighting and killing," Brett pointed out. "I never said I wouldn't use it - what I said is that I won't kill in cold blood. There's a whole world of difference there. As for how I'd know - ask me that if it ever comes up. At the end of the day what you're left with is a judgement call - that's not something you can make ahead of time," he added, still working on the wall.

She was silent for a few moments, then nodded. "Fair enough." she conceded. Then she turned around again to work at the wall some more. "This conversation hasn't actually brought us to a decision on what we're going to do." she said. "Do you have any preferences?" she asked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, but not fully heavy-attention watching him anymore.

"Yeah, get the fucking hell out of here," Brett told her, dryly. It wasn't an option, of course, but it would be his preference. "I swear, I'm never entering another fucking building ever again," he added, only half joking with that.

She laughed a touch. "Then you're going to be in for a very long winter, sweetheart. You're going to have to look into a whole lot of ways to keep yourself warm. I would suggest limiting yourself to say...not entering strange buildings that just happen to be put into our path when we've been barred from venturing further." she said. "Just to be on the safe side. There are good things in buildings occasionally. Beds. Bathtubs. Running water." Not that this particular building had those covered, beyond the running water bit.

"Yeah, maybe," Brett agreed. He didn't know how bad the winters got here, after all. Last winter he'd mostly spent underground. He shook his head and stopped again, looking over at her. "What do you think we should do then?" he asked her.

"Kick back. Relax a little bit. Pick a corner we can defend, block the view if we can from windows..." Eris said, stopping her work again as she looked back around the building. "Wait." She shrugged one shoulder. "We can always play poker for a while if we remembered cards." She didn't remember if it had been on her list, which she was thinking would change if they didn't happen to have any.

"We have cards," Brett confirmed. "They're in the bag with the food, side pocket on the left, below the spare flashlight." He had a good memory for where things were. "Look - what happened earlier... I can't guarantee it's not going to happen again," he warned her, cautiously.

She nodded. "I know." she said. And her tone had that little bit of a gentle undercurrent to it, but it wasn't overt. "You're doing very well so far." she added. "If it happens, we'll deal with it. We've dealt pretty well so far. And I've learned that it's a bad idea to go near you when you're too agitated with this. So...lesson learned. Do you ever feel it coming on? Is there warning?" she asked. That would be pertinent to know. She knew he still had some drugged water, too, he hadn't finished the bottle, so as long as he drank some more of it later, that would help too.

Brett flashed her a humourless smile. "Yeah - put me in an enclosed space and let me go," he told her. "Apart from that, I don't know. Sometimes it's worse than others. It's a recent thing," he admitted. He'd always felt better outdoors, but full on honest-to-goodness claustrophobia was only something that had appeared after he'd got out of the experiment. Or, at least, that experiment.

She nodded. "So you're still figuring it out." she said. "Alright well...we'll just learn to deal with it." she said, like it wasn't a big deal. And really, to her, so long as he wasn't shooting at her anymore? She was not going to make it one. They each had their issues, and that was just the way it was. Eris wasn't about to start having random problems with them just because they cropped up without full disclosure warning. "If you can warn me, do so. If you can't, I'm sure I'll figure it out pretty quickly."

Brett didn't answer her, specifically because he didn't want to address the phrasing there, didn't want to acknowledge it. Instead he turned away from the wall, slipping the knife down by his side, next to the gun. "I'll go see about those cards," he muttered, wheeling away.

Eris watched him, under the impression that she'd said something he didn't appreciate, but he wasn't bitching at her about it. And, he was going to get the cards, which meant he wasn't going off in a huff, either. So, she let it go, and stood up, stretching. She was sore already from all the activity of the day, and from the past two. and really...they were going to be in for a long night, too. ...but they could cut the time down a little and play cards. Maybe they'd both untense a little. It would be novel...and possibly a minor miracle, but she was willing to give it a shot.