Storyteller

who: eris, everett and brett
where: living room, mostly
when: later afternoon/early evening

It was all a bunch of bullshit, in Everett's opinion. Really, everything here tended to be, but in this particular situation? He was getting reminded of that fact more heavily than he usually would. That stupid dollhouse was an obvious goading tactic, at least as far as he was concerned. What other use would it have? Dress up each of them in some absurd little representation, put the whole thing out in a public spot so they could be witness to each others' reactions. And he blamed his lack of a fucking drink for his, but that didn't exactly matter much now. He'd had a bad one, they'd all seen it. Eris had probably even felt emboldened enough to call him 'captain' again, that or her brain damage had just made her forget not to. But Ev felt surly enough to assume the former as he sat in the living room, staring balefully at the outdated television even if it was off, one hand clutching the doll he'd thrown away earlier, the other holding what had to be his fourth cup of shitty instant coffee.

"Thank you, Nurse Ratched, but I'm fine and I can walk around if I want to, and you still haven't answered me." Eris' scratchy voice sounded as she entered the room, surprising herself with whatever was behind it. Yep. She didn't know this house layout, and had no clue where this room was going to take her. Hey! It was a...living room? Maybe. Whatever. There were creepy stairs. And Everett, she noted, pausing to have a coughing fit, which stopped her and doubled her over just inside the door a few paces, Brett on her heels.

Brett, in fact, almost wheeled right into her as she stopped, he was that close behind her. And he took the opportunity of her coughing fit to once again completely ignore her question about when he'd eaten last. "See - you're sick, so get your skinny fucking ass back to bed before you get worse and spread it to the rest of us!" he told her, before he noticed they weren't alone in the room, meeting Everett's eyes for a moment.

Just their initial dialogue had been enough to garner Ev's attention, confirming his suspicions that there was at least some familiarity between Brett and Eris. He met Brett's stare readily, a somber darkness in his own as he twirled his doll between roughshod fingers. "Wise words," he grumbled, sipping some coffee, "That sort of thing can spread real easy, Stockard." He managed not to glower too much when he said it, but boy were those some loaded words. You spread your sickness my way a long time ago, he mused, biting back on it in the name of whatever fucked-up amends he was working towards.

She gave herself a moment to swallow down the pain in her throat, and shot glares at both men. Really, it would have been a better effect if she hadn't looked like a stiff breeze might knock her flat. Then she drew in a breath, coughed a little more, and finally pushed herself back upright fully. "Yes, I'm sure my exposure is going to spread. I'm a plague carrier. It's my main goal, to give you all sore throats. It's a devious plot to make you sound stupid." she said sulkily. She was still carrying a blanket around with her like a little kid, and while normally she would have left the room considering it's occupant--she was being defiant, and she couldn't be defiant if the only place left to go back to was a bedroom. At least, if she wanted to be even vaguely comfortable. So she trudged across the room and fell face first down onto the free sofa. "Deal with it." she said, voice muffled by the cushion. God. Everett knew now. She really really hoped this didn't come back to haunt them. Then she wondered when she'd started to think of them as 'them' again, and couldn't remember, and thought perhaps she shouldn't but her brain hurt so what-fucking-ever.

Brett rolled his eyes. "You're acting like a fucking five year old," he told her, looking away from Everett as he started talking. So fine, the guy knew they knew each other now. Well, that simplified things didn't it - anyway, he'd never been the one who was bothered by that shit anyhow. And right now, he wasn't really in the mood to pander to her in any way. Except maybe to go and get her another blanket if she insisted on staying here. Maybe.

"All kinds of accusations about childish behavior today, hm?" Ev observed cynically, leaning down to set his doll on the floor. If it was out of sight, maybe he could get past his self-loathing about what the thing was supposed to imply. "Lord knows it's funnier when it's not aimed my way." That wasn't all he had to say, but he didn't exactly want to hit the two of them with a rush of questions. If Brett knew Eris? There was likely a lot Brett knew about what had happened to Eris, and Ev wasn't about to push forward and find himself on the receiving end of more accusations. The guy hadn't been there, hadn't seen the results of her handiwork before the experiment. And even if Eris had changed since those days? Everett didn't want to sound like he was justifying his murder. So they could ask, or he could keep tiptoeing around it all.

Eris shifted to her side, curling up on it and pulling her blanket around herself, up over her head so she had an almost hood-like cocoon going. "At least I'm not throwing my toys." she said. Then sneezed, and sniffled, coughing some more afterwards and groaning, curling up a bit more. "Where is mine, anyways?" she asked, frowning slightly. She looked at Brett. "Where's yours?" If she'd done something with them, she didn't remember, but she did remember wanting to keep them, to look them over better later. And it was later now.

"How the fuck should I know - I stopped playing with toys a long time ago," he pointed out, sitting back in his chair, deciding that blankets could wait. Anyway, he didn't particularly want to leave these two alone in a room together - last time hadn't exactly ended well. "It's probably in the dolls house. As is yours - does it matter? They're just dolls. And they're just trying to screw with us. Again." It was just like the cards, though he hesitated bringing that up. And then he wondered why, since them knowing each other wasn't exactly a fucking secrets anymore and he wasn't meant to be pandering to her, was he? "It's like the fucking tarot cards and I'm not having that." He'd burned those damn things, after all.

This was genuinely interesting; Ev had to wonder if Brett forced the polite-but-dry side he'd seen before, or if the vitriol he was seeing now was forced. Somehow, he suspected it was the first of the two that had been fake; how many people could go through these experiments and not get a little twisted up? And besides, maybe it had been earlier in his life, maybe the accident. Ev had certainly seen enough war veterans who'd ended up hating life and every person who was a part of it. But even with that insight? Something caught his focus even more. "Tarot cards, y'say," he echoed simply, looking between the two of them.

Eris was silent for a moment. Mostly because Everett finding out about she and Brett's Magical Adventure into Futility was going to piss him off. Because he'd told her to tell him if she was going to attempt anything dangerous. And she'd just...not. So she shifted back a slight bit. Curled up just a little more. "I want to see our dolls." she said quietly first. Because yes. she did think it was like the tarot cards. She wanted to know if her doll had her scars. She wanted to know what was under the eye patch on Brett's. Because after her initial amusement factor at the whole thing, she'd begun to wonder. She'd had strange dreams about the dolls, and she wanted to know if they'd gouged out his eye. And if at some point during this stage of the experiment if they were planning on making him match. It was a chilling thought. But it made her want to check. To be sure. "We found tarot cards. They were painted like us." She said, voice dull, or she meant it to be. It came out less dull and more unreadable, especially with the hoarseness. "They looked like Rosemary had painted them." Then her eyes focused on Everett. "Guess which card you were, Captain?" she asked, tone still light, and she looked away again.

"Later," Brett said, not moving an inch - especially not when she started talking to Everett about the cards, because he knew very well what card had been that man's and he didn't think the guy would have a particularly good reaction to hearing it.

"No." It was a simple refusal, but both the tone and look Everett had when he said it gave the impression that he wouldn't be convinced to change his answer. He wasn't going to play their captors' games, not again. They could get into his head anyway, but he would at least know he tried to stop them. "How long you gonna let them use you to get to me, Stockard?" Everett asked flatly, both hands curling around his mug, "And I told you before, drop the 'captain' shit. Unless we've time-traveled back to you and I in Atlanta, it doesn't fit." If she wanted to twist the knife? Maybe he could too. If Brett knew her, he just might wonder what that meant, what Atlanta had been like for the two of them.

Eris propped herself up on one arm, glaring at Everett. "And how long are you going to let them use you to get to me, Captain." she hissed. Then coughed some more, momentary strength sapping back again. "It isn't all the fuck about you. It's not, it--" she broke off. She shouldn't have said anything. She didn't want him to know that it got to her. That he terrified her. That she'd gone out into the graveyard and cried for fucks sake, because she'd seen him in her room. And that the card? That hadn't been there for her to twist his knife. That had been there to twist the one in her. She started to get up, leaving her blanket behind this time. It weighed her down too much.

Brett watched the interchange, knowing there were things here he didn't know and not stupid enough to stop things to ask. That was in the past anyhow and Brett had very fucking definite views on the past. "Stop it - it's not about either of you. It's about all of us. They're fucking with all of us. And we just make it worse. We're playing their little games all the damn time and they're loving every minute of it probably."

His temper had flared, he'd been a breath away from barking at Eris, and Brett spoke up. Ev's hands tightened around his mug to the point where he expected the ceramic to crack and shatter as he choked down his rage, and when he spoke he had to look down at his feet. "Sit down Eris... Julia... whatever the hell you want to call yourself. Just sit down," he rumbled with an abrupt weariness. "I know how you see me. I've seen that moment, that look in your eyes replayed a dozen times now. They showed me. And it's not ever going to go away, not even when I put the last of these fucks in the ground. But I'm going to try anyway, okay? Hate me, spit on me, remind me how far I am from who I was. I. Won't. Quit. I won't ever raise a hand to you, either. If I do either of those? Just might realize that I'm already dead. And if I do... well, just go get the gun I gave you, save me some wasted time."

She was close enough to him. Her reaction was very clear. She stopped dead in her tracks when he said 'julia'. She stopped, she stared at him, her expression stricken. She swung, an automatic reaction. It wasn't a punch. It was a slap. And while she didn't have the strength to put behind it to even probably make it hurt, the crack was clear in the room. She also knocked herself somewhat off balance from it, and wound up catching herself on the arm of the chair Everett sat on. "You do not....get to call me that." she breathed, coughing more, and glaring at him as she tried to catch her breath.

Brett watched them, this time not interrupting, though he was poised to if it came to it. But, right now, no. Not unless he hit her back, at least. As for her hitting him? Everett was a big guy, he could take it.

Ev's head turned with the slap, his eyes shutting to hide the anger that burst to life within them. No, it hadn't hurt in the slightest, but the very gesture made him mad. "Doesn't feel so good, does it? People using names they have no right to. Keep yourself clear of things like that, Stockard. I've told you how I feel about it." All of it was said with the low undercurrent of a growl in his voice, and Ev twisted to get out of his seat without touching Eris, dropping his doll on the sofa. "Get some god damned rest, too. You're no good to anyone when you're hacking up a lung. You know where I'll be if you need me."

He started to leave, looking back over a shoulder at both her and Brett. Ev didn't know where they'd found the tarot cards, but it wasn't a leap of imagination to assume that it wasn't in town, given how long he'd gone with no signs of Eris. "Don't try leaving again," he said mostly to her, "Getting put back here, that's the nice option. I don't know how many times they'll give it to you." That said, he started for the stairs. Ev needed a drink. Lacking that? He'd probably go pound on a wall until his hands hurt too much for him to think.

"Thought I wasn't any good to anyone still breathing, Dupree." Eris said far too lightly, watching his back. She pushed herself to her feet with obvious effort, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment to steady herself, because she felt just a little dizzy there. She started taking steps towards the door, because she still needed to go find those stupid dolls. She needed to see what they'd done to him. it was like her brain was stuck on it. She needed to know. When he stopped and looked back, speaking again, she looked at him. "Why don't you tell us a story?" she asked. "You told me a little. He only got heresay. What happened to you?" She still headed for the door. She was still going to go get the goddamn dolls, or try to look for them, but him telling Brett might be better anyways. "I'll be back." she said, finally getting to the door. She was shivering again, but she just moved too fucking slow with the blanket.

Brett went after her. "No you won't - you go back in there and sit the fuck down and I'll go," he told her, firmly as he caught up with her in the hallway. "Or, better get - get back to bed again. You're gonna make yourself worse." And, that way, she wouldn't be alone in a room with Everett either. "Where the hell are you going anyhow?" he asked.

"Finding the dolls." she said. "And I'll lay back down when I get back to the living room." she told him, reaching out to use the wall to keep herself upright. She was getting shivery again. That was right, there was a reason she was always carrying that blanket around like a fucking preschooler. "...but I'm not going in there by myself." she added. No matter what Everett said, she didn't want to be alone with him. Hell, even if she started buying into his bit about not taking another shot at her she didn't want to be alone with him. Not after what he'd done to her at the police station. Making her stay still while he got in close to look at her neck. She shuddered, pausing for a moment because her head was pounding. Ow. This sucked.

"What is it with those fucking dolls anyhow?" Brett asked, but it half sounded like a rhetorical question. "Just... Look, go into my room and grab the other blankets. If the dolls are that damn important to you, i'll find them, but they're just fucking dolls, that's all."

She slowed, and looked over at him. She didn't say anything for a long few moments, just looked, expression unreadable. Or, it was until she had a bit of a sneezing fit, and doubled over for a second. Fuck, that hurt her throat. It was raw already, if she could just quit sneezing and coughing so much, it'd be so much nicer. Giving herself a second, she breathed, and made sure speaking again wasn't going to trigger a coughing fit. "They're important to me." she told him. Because that was the truth. Or more specifically, his was. Her own was more for a basis of comparison. I need to see what they've done to you. But she couldn't say that out loud, both because she knew how it sounded, even inside her own head, and she knew he wouldn't deal well either. Mostly because she imagined he'd tell her she was fucking stupid and it was just a doll, and they were doing this to get this kind of result in the first place and she was just playing right into it. And really, she probably was. She just couldn't help it this time.

"You've got a fucking fever is what," Brett told her, shaking his head. he turned away, muttering something mostly inaudible about pandering and drugs as he headed off to look for the dolls. "....And get those fucking blankets!" he called back as he headed off, his tone sharp and commanding.

She looked after him, and actually smiled, the very faintest bit. Though then she winced. "I don't know how to get to your room, Brett." she said, staying where she was as she tried to remember where the kitchen was as well. Because she wanted to get him something, or maybe get something they could share, if she could keep anything down. But still. That was way easier a task when one could understand the layout of the house they occupied.

He stopped and half turned, pointing off to the left, though he was further down the corridor. "Over there," he told her, bluntly, before turning and carrying on towards where the dollshouse still stood. He figured that the dolls would still be inside it.

Eris winced faintly. Over there. There were doors over there. Many doors. She remembered at least where she'd just come from. And she wound up peeking into one that led her to the kitchen. There, she grabbed a box of crackers that they could share. She just didn't have the time or energy to make anything for him again. So, she just stuck with 'simple and possibly edible'. Then she headed for his room, since he wanted her to get his blankets, which right now seemed like an awesome idea, if only she could get there. Finding his room wasn't too hard. There was the great fucking hole in the ceiling that could remind her it was his, and all his things in there. Walking over to the bed she pulled the covers off, but wound up sitting down on it for a moment, to catch her breath. She wondered just how ridiculous she looked, sitting there with a box of crackers hugged to her chest on one side, and blankets half pulled up over her head on the other.

Brett made his way to the dollshouse and looked inside, grabbing her dolls, then his - and then just all of them, in case she decided that she was going to be fucking petulant about it. He blamed the fever. She needed to take her next round of drugs soon anyhow. He was sure she wouldn't have remembered to today. She hadn't remembered to yesterday, not unless he'd handed them to her with a bottle of water. At least he had them in his things - it meant he didn't need to get drinks from the kitchen. He dumped the dolls into his lap and headed for his room. "You know," he said, as he saw her sitting on his bed. "You should just go back to bed again. After you've taken something for your pills. I can get you a damp cloth for your forehead - it'll help with the fever. And I spoke to a doctor yesterday, she's going to try and get over once the weather calms down."

Eris looked up, wondering how long she'd been sitting there, because obviously it was long enough that he'd already got the dolls and she just hadn't moved again. In fact, she'd almost just curled up on her side, but didn't figure Brett would be too happy about her occupying his bed. She peeked at him from under the blanket. "I've been in bed all day." she said, and even she could hear the little-kid sort of whine there. It was almost funny. "Do damp cloths really work?" she asked, thinking about that. She didn't know. She didn't really think she'd ever had anyone looking after her like this before. The news on the doctor made her shrink back a little. Though the 'she' helped. "Who is she?" she asked.

"Yes, they really work - when you've got a fever. So does being in bed and resting," he lectured, not even trying to be nice about it. "There's a reason sick people stay in bed - it works. Or it works when they're not spoiled brats about it. Then it doesn't work - and neither does the whole business about getting better. You're only making shit difficult for yourself and she's someone who was in my experiment. Don't know much about her, except she's a doctor. Honestly, I think she thinks I have shit for brains, either that or she's a moron, but she's got her MD and she's not the guy you won't see, so I asked her to come," he explained to her.

"I just can't lay there anymore for a while. It's uncomfortable and I just feel like I'm laying there in a cloud of sick air and I just need to be somewhere else for a while. I'm laying down in the living room, why isn't that acceptable?" Eris said, making a face at Brett. Yep. When she was sick, apparently? She behaved like a child. Or, somewhat like one, anyhow. And she was ignoring that she'd gotten up to go get dolls, and had stopped said lying down. "And why am I grabbing your blankets? Weren't you yelling at me earlier about spreading the plague?" she asked, mind randomly spitting that back out at her. She pulled them around her more firmly either way since she was shivery, she wasn't going to go back on it now, he'd told her to get them, so she was getting them. She just wanted to know why it was he got to bitch at her about spreading sick everywhere and then told her to go get his blankets.

"Why? Because you weren't lying down," Brett pointed out, pedantically. "And because you were shivering with one blanket and because you were fighting with the guy and generally? Not resting." He wasn't going to let that one go. He was stubborn like that. "And, if you're going to be like that, then you get my blankets, because the sooner you get better, the sooner I can stop having to care for your skinny ass."

"Well, I don't get along so well with the guy, he killed me, remember? I'm unreasonable like that." Eris said, though there could have been a lot more bite to her words than there was. "And I was trying to rest! Then...I wanted to see the dolls. Which you got, and now I have your blankets and I'm going to get plague all over them and when you bitch about it, I'm reminding you that I was just doing as told." For once. "And technically you could just not care, you know. You could just tell me to fuck off and take care of myself." she pointed out, as she started wrapping the blankets around herself properly, it helping the shivering slightly.

"Yeah, well - maybe I still will if you're going to be like this about it," Brett told her, notably not fucking off and leaving her to it. "And I'm aware the guy tried to kill you - but that doesn't mean to say you have to do his job for him. And I said that you being out of bed and up was unreasonable - not you reacting badly to him, but walking out of the room would have been a viable option as well, so don't try and feed me that bullshit, Princess." He considered what she'd said earlier. About the fact that Everett wasn't allowed to use Julia. Which, apparently he was. Which made no sense. At all. Part of him wondered if that had just been for his benefit, part of him really still didn't trust her. Which is why he hadn't, and wouldn't bring it up.

"I'm not trying to give you shit about anything, sweetheart." Eris said, sulking just a touch. "And, I think I'm listening fairly well for someone who doesn't have to listen to a word out of your damn mouth, so a tiny smidge of credit would do, or maybe just laying off a tiny bit." she added, holding her fingers up just a hair's bredth apart. "So what's the plan then." she said, now fully bundled up in his blankets, and she started to get back to her feet once more because she was going to lie down if she didn't. She wasn't going to deal with Brett yelling at her for that. So. She got back up. "I want to know what he's got to say about what happened to him." she added. She got closer to him, then reached out to take up the Brett-doll.

"Who else are you going to fucking listen to then?" Brett snapped back at her. "The guy who tried to fucking kill you? The blind girl who'd like to see you dead? Or, hey - how about Miss Freakshow, who thinks everything and everybody's her fucking business? Would you prefer she makes sure you don't fucking die on us? That you take your pills so you can get back to being able to take care of yourself? So, no - you don't have to listen to a damn word I say. And here - have you fucking dolls, if that's what you want. But don't expect me to give you credit for being a stupid bitch about things," he told her, pushing the dolls off his lap and onto the bed and turning round to head out of the room without a second glance.

Eris arched a brow at that little pissy bitch fit. That was...she had no idea on that. Was he pissed because she hadn't said thank you or something? Or he wanted credit? Or he assumed that she did have to listen to someone and couldn't say, take care of herself? She had no idea. But she gathered up the dolls anyways, wondered if this meant that the damp rag thing was now off the table and vaguely wondered if it was supposed to be hot or cold, and figured that she just didn't know so whatever. It wasn't like she'd asked for it to begin with. Then she started back towards the living room, because regardless of what Brett said, or did, or whatever, she did still want to know more about what happened to Everett. So she made her slow ass way back out of the room, and headed towards the living room. Though really, it was only after stopping as looking at the other doors she was presented with, and rejecting them on the basis that the living room had been farther away than all that. She headed up the hall, catching up to him though they were really quite the pair at the moment. She moved along behind him, not trying to go around. "If I pushed you, would you throw a fit at me, or hit me or something?" she asked.

"I'm quite fucking capable of pushing myself - anyway, this piece of crap and you'd be sweating like a fucking pig before we went two yards. You don't want to, sweetcheeks," Brett told her, without looking round. She'd done exactly what he'd expected her to do - she was heading back toward the living room. Which was why he was heading back toward the living room. Because whether he'd just thrown a hissy fit at her or no, he wasn't going to leave her alone with Everett.

"You could help me. I wouldn't be pushing you all on my own." Eris said, nudging his chair slightly from where she was. Not that she was overwhelmingly well suited to doing that at the moment, with a box of crackers, and dolls in her arms. Which reminded her, and she went to put the box of crackers down by his side. It wasn't like she was planning on eating a lot of them. If any. She might pretend to, she supposed. Her stomach just didn't like...pretty much anything right now.

"Great," Brett said as she offloaded crackers onto him. He looked up and round. "And I always liked being used as a shopping cart. Thanks - but no," he told her, turning back and putting more effort into turning the wheels of his chair - something that was easier said than done, the amount of rust on the thing. It squeaked at every turn and required three times as much effort to his normal one. They really had it in for him, didn't they?

Eris actually was smirking down at him faintly. As much as she could do with feeling as shitty as she did right then. So she walked behind him for a few more steps, the living room (in theory) coming up on their right. And she was getting impatient, so she got the dolls situated, and did push him, though damn it wasn't easy. But she tried, it meant that they moved faster, anyways. She wanted to go die on the couch now, thanks, but she didn't want to be alone with Everett, and really? She wanted Brett to hear whatever he had to say too. It was important. Or, so she figured, anyhow.

He wouldn't admit it, but the help was appreciated - this thing was killing his arms, he'd had a cramp once already today, and that was in addition to the usual biting pains in his legs. He had painkillers for both, but as usual, he wouldn't take them - he'd given them to her for her aches and pains instead, though he hadn't told her that either. All she'd really known over the last day or so was that every now and then, Brett had given her pills to take, and bitched at her until she took them. The rest, wasn't important. He made an effort to pull away from her as they entered the living room, managing to speed up enough to wrench the chair out of her hands slightly as they went back in.

Eris rolled her eyes at Brett, but didn't say anything, making her way back over to the couch where she pretty much did exactly the same thing she'd done the first time, which was to flop down face first onto it. Then she moved to get under both sets of blankets, feeling at least a little warmer as she settled in, curled on her side. The dolls were kind of hugged in towards her body beneath the blankets. She'd look soon. Just...not right now. Maybe later when she was by herself or something. "Story time." she said, addressing Everett.

When he'd started to walk away, Everett hadn't gotten far. 'Tell us a story' froze him in his tracks, hands closing on opposing wrists to rub the scars that circled them both. He'd just stood out in the other room as Eris and Brett left, motionless on the outside as a swirl of thoughts consumed him. How long could he keep pretending he was okay? Ev was lying to himself on too many levels. He could admit he was a murderer, but there was still that nugget of belief inside that he could be a good man. But could he? He'd been shown his own hypocrisy by his captors, then... had he really escaped? Or had he been given a chance to rejoin the experiment? Doubts like that could drive a man mad, and Ev hadn't even realized he'd moved while he was musing on it all.

But there he was, back in the living room, hands folded together. And there was Eris and Brett, like none of them had ever moved. Ev's jaw set as he tried fighting the thought that he was just outright losing his mind. Stop lying to yourself, Dupree, he mused darkly, Admit to everything, don't wonder if you've hit the bottom. Just hit it, start over. "You want to know what happened after I killed you," he growled, brow twitching as he said it out loud for the first time in far too long. Brett was there, but Ev didn't care any more. If he kept hiding this, it was going to break him.

Brett's jaw twitched, hearing that admission coming from the guy - not that he'd actually doubted for a moment that Eris had been telling the truth about what had happened. It was strange, with some things, he really didn't trust her. With others, he didn't for a second doubt her. He kept quiet though, his eyes moving from one to the other, trying to keep sight of both of them.

"That's what I want to know." Eris confirmed, not letting her gaze waver from Everett, though she wanted to look over at Brett. She just didn't let herself. Instead she laid there, tugged the blankets a little better over herself, and seemed to settle in, like she was waiting for a bedtime story.

"I quit," Ev began simply, reaching up to run a hand across his scalp. "I just... I thought I could handle taking on the weight of what I did, and I couldn't. Things didn't get better in the house for anyone, and instead of dealing with them I kept coming back to what I'd done. So I quit, Lina took over. And for a little while, I hoped that I could get a grip on my own time, try to balance giving up who I was with that night... I was a good cop," he said in a low, sorrowful tone. Really, in Ev's mind, they'd both died that night. He'd killed a dedicated policeman when he'd killed her, and he would've changed that night if only for his own sake.

"But things never leveled off for me, Stockard. Even if you weren't really dead? You haunted me." And before, when he'd believed that he could still atone for his actions, that had been part of the fuel for his belief. He'd felt remorse, deep and genuine, but had it been for her? Or for himself? "So I spent a month or so just... fucking around. Drinking myself calm every day, walking the halls at night. We had more attacks around then, someone in the house grabbing the others, beating them, stringing them up. And the whole scenario just made me realize how fucking powerless I was, even when I came for you. I didn't nail you, girl. You were lined up for me and the hammer was put in my hand. So I gathered up my shit, some fresh water, and I left. Figured if anyone there had half a chance of making it through the woods, it was me. And I didn't even have that." He was old, after all, and even with as much as he remembered? His time in the Marines was over thirty years behind him. "I was maybe twelve days out, and I'd been careful. Worked my way northeast, slept in trees when I could, covered my tracks as much as possible. They still found me. They kicked seven kinds of shit out of me, just for fun I think. One of them had a taser or a tranquilizer, I don't know. I just know the beating stopped, something hit me and the world went black. And when I came to, I was somewhere else."

Eris listened, watching Everett as she did so. She was starting to warm back up again, which was a plus. She still felt like hell, but she wanted to concentrate on what he had to say. And she wanted Brett to hear it, because it might make him change his mind if they were still on for any future adventures (she wasn't sure at all if they were or not), and she didn't want to risk some important detail getting lost to the black holes in her brain.

"There was a cell." He looked down with that little detail, jaw knotting tight with the strain of memory. Everett needed a drink, his hands had wound together tight to keep from shaking under the strain of reliving his ordeal. "Plain steel, one bunk, one toilet. I don't... I don't know how long I was in there at first. The light never went off, see. Sometimes it'd get brighter, but that was it." He shook his head, reining in the urge to talk about the hopelessness, the stretch of what must've been days without any kind of interruptions aside from the odd meal or bottle of water. "So eventually, they started. They'd cuff me, take me to another room, beat on me. Suffocate me. Electrocute me. Never say a word. I'd just take as much as I could and wake up in a cell. Without a mirror? I never really knew how bad it was, I just knew it hurt."

He looked up, running both hands over his head and taking a deep breath. "But pain has limits, y'know. Eventually you're just wailing on a slab of meat, and the fear goes away. So... they made sure it didn't. It started in my cell, I could hear the others back at the house. I could hear Rain crying, wondering where I was, Lina swearing up a blue streak as things got worse, Kales just trying to get Emma to leave their room. Next time they took me to that other room? They didn't lay a hand on me, they just... turned on a TV, let me see what the others were trying to survive. Then they worked me over."

Brett listened, blankly. he knew that this could have happened to them. He'd known it back at the church. Hell, he'd expected it - for that to be their fate, something like that anyhow. The surprise had been waking up back in town. Still, it was different to hear it said aloud, to hear someone who had actually been through it talking about it. All his usual bitchy commentary was quiet as he let the man talk.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Eris wondered what else had gone on in the house. What had happened that she'd missed when she'd been dropped in a room and forgotten about. But she didn't ask. She wouldn't, either way. And she wanted to hear what else they'd done, what else Everett had to say over it all. So, she just watched him, watched the lines of tension through him, the small gestures, all the little things she generally would be picking up to use against him later, she just...didn't plan on that right now. That didn't mean she didn't notice them.

"I told you before that I figured it out, how long I was gone. Months, Eris. Months of them switching it up every day. And it worked. They... I stopped fighting, stopped caring when they'd put the cuffs on me. Didn't recognize my own voice, I hadn't spoken for so long. And I don't think it was what they wanted." This was what he hadn't wanted to say, because it confirmed what Eris had told him. You can't just turn off that dark side when you want to. "So they took me in one day, turned on the TV, cuffed me to the chair. I saw them die, Eris. Rain, Torlin, Kales... you. A good moment would just cut off and you'd be there, tied to the bed. They just kept showing me over and over. The first words I heard that weren't from the house? 'Take him outside, shoot him in the head'." Ev raised both hands to show them the scars on his wrists, his eyes grim and earnest. "I was the only one who went outside when it was over."

He didn't need to explain what he meant by that, Brett could follow the way it was going. "Yet here you are," he said, quietly, eventually. That bit, that didn't make sense. Then again, what made sense in this place anyhow. There seemed no rhyme or reason, no method to this madness. It was a fucking experiment - wasn't there meant to be a method? hell, they'd even had a 'control' group. But that had been then - where were they now? In here, that was where. Was this just the end game? Torture them all a little more, make them fall apart? Make them think they were going to get out alive and then snatch that away again?

She watched, eyes ticking to the scars when he showed them. And she didn't need it fully spelled out for her or anything, she got what he was saying as well. She curled up a little more, staying silent, just kind of letting everything sink in. She didn't know what this meant for her. What it meant for the idea of getting out, leaving town. She didn't know how Brett was going to see it. Because of the two of them, he was less suicidal. He might not be at all, even, really. "We didn't see anyone when we were out." she said, voice light. And it wasn't meant as a statement to say that they wouldn't be found and put through the same thing. Though it was confirmation that they'd left. That she'd gone back on what Everett had told her.

"You wouldn't see anyone until it didn't matter if you did," Ev told her flatly. "Back in the mansion, the guys who got Holly? They were wearing combat gear, at least the boots. The ones who had me? Military-issue equipment, police-grade cuffs, very specific model firearms. They're not fucking around." He looked back to Brett, nodding slightly. "Here I am. Got some shit from where they had me, started moving again. I found a little group from one of the other houses, the one where no one got fucked with apparently. They were goddamn helpless... I kept them alive until the rescue effort found the lot of us. There's your story."

Brett shook his head. "No - here you are. With shit going down again. It wasn't like you lost them or anything. It's not like this place turned out to be what we were told it was. They're still running this show, which means that, no matter what you did to get out of there? At the end of the day, they fucking let you go. After all that. There was no 'rescue effort', not really - that was just another fucking, far as I can see. And now? We see what they want us to see. And that's all."

Like the cards. Seeing what they wanted them to see. Or, that's where Eris' mind went. And she took out the little her-doll, and looked at it, holding it up over her as she shifted onto her back. "So it's all a little game, and there isn't any escape. And we just get the keys in our backs wound up, and go along our little paths, and they do whatever they feel like." she said, voice quiet. Reaching up, she tugged the high collar down from the dress the doll her was wearing, to see if there was the scar there. Which...there was.

"Eventually, you're going to get a choice," Ev told both of them. "Give up and die, or let them turn the key and keep playing with their toys. I know that's what they did with me, they made the options clear. I could let those men put a bullet in me, or I could take them apart and keep telling myself there's a point to all this. I won't know if I'm lying to myself until right before I'm dead." He sat back with a weary sigh, resisting the urge to check his own doll for the scars of bondage. They'd be there, but he wouldn't give his captors the satisfaction of seeing him twitch.

"They can't fucking afford to let us escape. Why do you think we all believed it so much when they fed us the line about red tape and the political fallout from discovering the existence of the experiments? Because that's what it'd be. It'd be a fucking circus. The dead. The missing - all over the damn world. Every country vying to take someone down for damage to their countrymen, sticking the knife into someone just because they could. But I'm not going to dance to their tune, follow that path. And yeah, I know by telling them where to go on things I'm probably just following their path in a different direction, but fuck it, at least I won't be being a sheep with it. And if it's the game until you die, then does it really fucking matter anyway?" Brett told them, coming to the end of his rant.

Eris was listening, and she checked the back of her doll, where she saw the scar from the knife. Then she righted it's clothes again, and set it down on the back of the couch, sitting her there, staring out at the room. Her eyes shifted around, towards the floor where Everett's doll rested, and she shifted, to see if she could reach it. "So does that mean we're still going to leave?" she asked, not quite able to get ahold of Everett's doll, so she slid down off of the couch to crawl over and get it, the other dolls tumbling to the floor with her.

"You'd need a group," he told Eris, biting back his thoughts on Brett's ramble. Ev had never believed things were truly over, he wouldn't have until he was back in America. Like Janie had said to him. We'll always be here in some way. They were all dancing, it was all they could do here while they were alive. "People to keep a constant watch, supplies, a planned direction. Anything you don't have thought out is just going to crash, plain and simple. If you try leaving? You need to make sure there's absolutely no way for them to pull you back here."

"You could never guarantee that," Brett told him. "Short of packing fake teeth with cyanide pills in them like some fucking weird spy movie. If they wanna bring us back, we're gonna be coming back. Trust me - we didn't decide to head back here on our own." No, they'd just gone to sleep one night and woken up the next morning. Though, Brett had to wonder, was it just coincidence that they'd been trapped first, that they hadn't been picked up on any of the days they'd simply been camped out.

Eris got to Everett's doll, and sat up to look at it. She looked at the wrists, and saw they were accurate. Then she sat the doll on the floor. Crawling back over to the couch, she climbed back up onto it, beneath the blankets, where it was warm, and waited for her teeth to stop chattering before she spoke. "More people wouldn't help. Nothing would help. They move us around like their own little dolls any time they want, and none of us remembers a thing. We wouldn't need to see them coming. Not really. It wouldn't matter if we did or not." she said. She reached down to snag Brett's doll, leaving Hannah's and Posy's on the floor, not caring about them. She did notice Hannah's eyes were whited out, though. An absent sort of observation.

Ev sat forward, shaking his head. It was a hopeless situation, really. They could sit here and wait for what was coming next or they could try and change it, even if it was a futile effort. To Everett, it was at least better than waiting for the next punishment or wondering which of them was going to break. "Only thing that matters is whether you want to be passive when they're fucking you or not," he rumbled, rising stiffly from his seat. "Don't know there's much more I can say on it."

"There's not really, no," Brett agreed, not giving his opinion on his status in regards to being passive or active. He knew, but he didn't feel the need to share that. "Simply put: we're all fucked. That's all there is to it. Nothing changes but the scenery."

It was the motion of Everett getting up that distracted Eris' attention from her looking at the Brett doll--though she hadn't checked it for anything yet. She had only distantly heard the last two statements as well, though focused in again. "Calling it a night, Everett?" she asked, tone unreadable.

He nodded slightly, starting away from the two of them. Ev couldn't stay here, couldn't face the expressions that would be full of disgust or pity for him. His justifications for what he'd become had lost their weight some time ago, and his desire to try and fight the situation? It was wasted on Brett and Eris. He knew it was hopeless, but it gave him something to work towards. But not here, not now, and especially not when all he wanted was a drink. "Just heading upstairs for a bit," he finally said. "Give a holler if I'm needed, I'll be awake for a while. And I meant it before. Get better, Stockard. Zero chance or not or surviving, we need everyone in the best shape they can be in."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and bit back a few things she could say. Then she just glanced away. "Sweet dreams." she said instead, curling up on her side again, pulling the blanket over her head for a moment, hugging the doll she'd kept to her chest. She didn't even want to think about the implications of what he'd said. Or what uses he might have in mind for her that she'd need to be healthy for.

Brett watched as Everett left the room, and didn't try and say anything to either of them. He considered trying to move her again, get her to actually go back to bed, but figured that he shouldn't waste his breath. Anyway, she was probably as wrapped up as she was going to get there and since when was he a fucking nursemaid anyhow? he sat back in his chair, massaging his temples. His eyes hurt and he had a headache coming on, that was for sure.

When she was sure Everett was gone, she peeked back out again. She shifted, so she could let her gaze rest on Brett. Watched him giving off all the signs that he had a headache. In another life, she might have catered to him. Might have gotten up, gone to take over the motion for him. But not this one. And not right now. She and being upright weren't compatible things. "You should get some rest." she said eventually, voice quiet. Funny, considering he'd been trying to get her to all day.

"I'm resting," Brett grumbled from behind his hand. "See, I'm fucking sitting down and everything," he added.

She didn't say anything for a moment, eyes still on him. "Fine. You should go to bed." she corrected herself. She still had his blankets. Which she'd have to give back. Because while the house was warm, it wasn't that warm. Or maybe that was just her perception, because of being sick, she didn't know. Either way, she'd need to be giving them back. "You should also eat something." She'd never taken the crackers back from him.

"I'm not the one who's sick," Brett reminded her. He was aware that he still had her crackers. She needed to eat as well - she needed her strength. "I don't need to go to bed right now. You need to get sleep. I'll wake you up when it's time for your pills." There was nothing like sidestepping advice from other people.

"No, you're the one who's stressed out, been running himself kinda ragged all day, and has a headache." she pointed out. "And who hasn't eaten. ...much." Because she thought he probably had had some of the french toast she'd made that morning. Not that it probably had been that good or anything, but it was something. Other things floated in the back of her mind to say, but they were only half formed at best, and she didn't try to pull them in closer to focus.

"Oh no - I actually had to do something! Wow, it must be the end of the fucking world. I'll cope - I used to work for a living and everything. And I've eaten, so don't start in on that shit. Now, try and get some sleep. And hey, think about it - since you're the main cause of my problems at the moment, you sleep, I won't have problems, I can take a break - we're all happy," he pointed out.

"I never asked you to take care of me, sweetheart." Eris said. "I never asked you for anything, so if I'm the cause of all of your problems, why don't you just leave?" she asked. "Being I'm so problematic, with my trying to make sure you don't starve, because I know you won't go in that kitchen. And hey, there's that part where I'm completely fucked in the head and need to be reminded of things, I know that's got to be really awful for you. And everything else...don't give me grief because you decided to make me your pet fucking project." her voice was getting tighter as she spoke, even if really she hadn't started out angry. And she didn't know why it was leaking in now.

"Leave? Ha! That's a fucking joke - where would I go anyhow?" Brett laughed, mirthlessly. "I don't think so. And yeah, you never asked me to take care of you. But I never asked for anything from you either, so don't give me that whole 'making sure you don't starve' shit or I could be asking you just the same thing."

"Someplace not in here, harping on me, then bitching about having to harp on me?" Eris suggested. "Jesus, you're just--" she started, then stopped. "Whatever you've got to say just say it. Get it out there. Yell at me, do whatever you want, I just..." she was tired. And she knew things were still unresolved with them, even if they had sort of fallen back into roles they normally took with one another. Of course she also knew her emotional control wasn't what it used to be. And her being sick didn't make that any better.

"You're sick," Brett repeated, letting that wash over him. It was tempting but - not whilst she was sick. It would be like kicking an injured puppy. If he had anything to say to her, it would stay on hold until she was better, until they could deal on equal terms. "Get some rest. I'll be - elsewhere," headded, turning and starting out of the room.

"I'm sick, I'm not a complete invalid." Eris said, frowning at him as he started the process of leaving the room. Which she knew went a lot faster with his other chair. "And I'm tired of this shit, alright?" she said, pushing herself up to prop herself on one arm, eyes still heavy on him. "You can bitch at me all day about everything under the sun but now you're going to hold back?"

"Yes," Brett told her, but he didn't add anything more. He wished he had his other chair - he'd be fucking out of here by now with his other chair. This fucking thing made making a storming out type exit fucking impossible! Anyway, he was right - she was sick and needed rest. She was just being a stubborn bitch.

Eris squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying very hard not to do something like...take her doll from the back of the couch and throw it at him. But she really wanted to right now. Really wanted to. "Why?" she asked, voice clipped. "Why bother?" Because that didn't make sense to her either.

He stopped at the door, but didn't turn to look at her. "Because you're sick," he told her, this being in and of itself an entire explanation as far as he was concerned.

"What's the difference?" She asked, just staring at him again. "You've been doing nothing but giving me a hard time for two days now, but this is some line you won't cross? Because now it matters that I'm sick?" She shook her head. "It makes no fucking sense. Just...fucking say whatever you've got to say. I'll even be quiet while you do it." Didn't mean she'd be quiet after he said his bit, but during, she could do.

"Yeah, and most of what I've been giving you a hard time about is related to the fact that you're sick. You're sick and you won't be fucking sensible and stay in bed and let someone else look after you. It's all a long list of 'no' with you. But you know what? You don't know better. You act like you do, but you don't. So that I'll give you a hard time about, because I do and I'm trying to help you. The rest? Can wait, so it'll wait," he told her, turning enough so that he could just about see her, twisting as best he could in the chair.

She was still looking at him eyes not averting at all, and his rational sort of response to her helped in some fashion. It actually eased a little of the sting that she had going on. And she really couldn't argue the not being sensible thing, because she knew she wasn't an especially good patient. Nor was she used to being sick, or being looked after, really it was all one big situation she wasn't prepared to deal with, as she didn't have experience with it. Add on top of that their current living situation and room mates, and she was even less apt to fall in line and do the right things. "I don't want it to wait." she said finally, voice less sharp than it had been a moment ago.

"Yeah and I don't want to be stuck in fucking Russia. And I don't want to be stuck in a fucking chair either. We don't always get what we want, Princess - live with it and get some fucking sleep," he told her, before heading out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He almost slammed it, but he had a headache, and anyway, it'd just piss her off and she'd probably follow him and that'd start the circle of trying to get her warm again, so he just shut it, and sat there, just outside the door. Just in case she tried that crap.

She didn't do anything for a few long minutes. She stared at the door, and she kept listening for the squeak of his chair to signify that he'd gone back to his room or something. Up the hall, whatever. But it wasn't there. He'd stopped right out side the bloody door. God, her head hurt. And she just...didn't want to do this right now. And she didn't want him hovering, if he wasn't going to talk to her. And she didn't want to be bitched at anymore, and she just...the whole fucking world could stop now, she wanted off. She got up, wrapping her own blanket around herself, and gathering his up in her arms. She still had the him doll clutched in one hand. Opening up the door, she dropped the still vaguely warm blankets down on his head.

Brett heard the door open, and had just enough time to think I fucking knew it - you just have to have the last fucking word, don't you? before the blankets landed on his head. He snatched them from his face and glared up at her, thrusting them back into her hands. "Keep them," he told her, firmly.

"No." she said, voice strangely quiet and weirdly non-confrontational, starting her way around him, not taking the blankets, just pushing them back at him. She was headed up the hall. The stairs were that way, she remembered. Kinda. She didn't remember how far, but they were that way. She was going upstairs. Right now she didn't even care that she knew Everett was up there. And what's her face. Bitchface. Posy.

Brett threw the blankets after her, though they didn't go very far. He couldn't chase her even if he'd wanted to, not in this fucking chair and, really, he was starting to be able to actually identify when it would be a completely fucking waste of time and energy. So, instead, he threw the blankets down onto the floor. "Fine!" he called after her, turning away and heading towards his room.

She didn't look back, didn't rise to that, and just kept going, planning on listening for once. She was going to bed. Like he kept telling her to do. Of course, she was just doing it someplace he couldn't get to her. Where she could lay down, and maybe sleep, and just...write off the rest of this horrible fucking day. That would be nice. Maybe she'd not think about the torture Everett had told them about. Maybe she wouldn't think about whether or not they were even chancing it again, because she still didn't know if she and Brett were still doing anything. Maybe she wouldn't think about what it meant to her if they weren't.