Trying to Get Out


Who: Brett and Eris
Where: His place(s)
When: Afternoon

When Eris woke, she was still not feeling the best. She didn't know if it was because she hadn't taken any of her medication the day before, or because of her fever last night, or...who else knew what. The headache of all the messages back and forth, the hunger pangs, the fact that she'd wound up having to use a sink she couldn't wash things down in for facilities...there was just awfulness all around. Add on top of that her horrible feelings about her own predicament, her idea that she'd been misinterpreting everything, and Brett's perpetual silence from his computer and you had one hellish day.

So, when there was the ability to leave? She took it. Straight away, even. Even with the locks on things gone, and everything else, she was the hell out of there. She really hated it when she came up in that little house they'd initially stuck her in. That didn't help her disposition at all, particularly since she'd deliberately left the place behind ages ago. Or what felt like ages ago. But all of the things she'd left there were still, in fact, there.

Not knowing what to do, she changed her clothes after showering, and she still felt a little shaky. Shaky, and she didn't know why. If it was her medication situation or what. And, for now, she didn't care, either. She could walk, she was upright, that was good enough for her. She told herself she wasn't going to go looking for him. Really, she did, but it was itching at her. Like needles under her skin, she couldn't focus around it. Him. Whatever.

The elevator had been small. And the ride up had taken a while. Long enough for her to stand there thinking it was a long goddamn ride. Which meant Brett wasn't going to deal with his so well, if he had anything like she did. That set into her mind, she kept looking towards the door. And about five minutes later, she found herself bundling up and heading over, walking up the center of the ploughed street, heading straight for his house. She pushed through the snow up to his porch, and sat there on the top step for a good while, half listening for him inside, her hair freezing in little curls down her back. But having had exposure not too long beforehand really meant her sitting out in the cold was not going to work out for her very long, and soon she was shivering, her teeth chattering almost painfully. Aches in her bones had her going to the door--which was locked, then breaking in--even if breaking in just involved climbing through a window and shutting it again.

It didn't take her long to find the elevator. It just took her a while to work up the nerve to hit the button to call it. In the meantime she tried to get warm again, but felt a little chilled to the bone. Whatever. She was just...checking. Then she'd figure out what the hell she was doing. When the doors opened and she stepped inside, the first thing she thought to herself was yes--this was going to be hell on him. Shit. Right around now she wished she had some of her meds to drug him again. She'd have to see how he did. Damnit. Hitting the down button, she leaned back against the car wall and willed herself to stop shivering. And willed herself to stop wondering what was going to happen, and if he was going to immediately send her away.

Brett was still in the campsite. He knew he could leave - he'd found that out early that morning. Had immediately gone to go do that - even packing up the bags he had to take stuff with him.

And then he'd seen the elevator.

It looked weirdly out of place - like something from a fucking Narnia movie or some shit - a door in the middle of a stand of trees. A door that slid open to reveal a really, really small elevator car. Tiny, in his head. Rationally, he knew he'd fit in there, no problem, but he'd sat outside and looked at it until the doors had slid quietly shut once more and then he'd turned back and decided to have breakfast first. Breakfast turned into washing up, which turned into having a soak in the pool - which turned into a very long soak, because the minerals in that pool really didn’t help the aches and pains in his body. And then he needed to have lunch and the time ticked away, time where he was so busy keeping himself busy that he couldn't possibly even think about going back up again. The one thing he didn't do was check the computers - he wouldn't admit it to himself, but he knew that everyone else would have left the moment they could. That it was just him, stuck down here.

The doors swung open with a quiet slide, though she didn't notice any customary 'ding!' to announce her presence. The first thing she noticed that it was warm down there. Much warmer than upstairs. Taking a step out, she looked down to see grass beneath her feet. Which...was just trippy. There were no two ways about it, that was trippy. Especially when her jeans were still wet from where she'd trudged through the snow, and her hair was still kind of melting. Looking around, she saw a little path. And...trees, and...yeah. This was just a little insane. A tiny, tiny bit. Sure. Right. She took a few steps away from the elevator, not necessarily wanting to surprise him. Just because she hadn't had the shotgun didn't mean he didn't have his firearm. "...Brett?" she called hesitantly, voice coming out a little hoarse, though that was less due to her being ill and more due to the fact that she just hadn't been speaking much in the last day or so. Her voice sounded odd to her own ears.

Brett had the fire going, a kettle with some water hanging from a hook, a pot sitting by the side with coffee warming in it. Really, he had it all pretty well organised, but he'd lived outdoors before and he was comfortable with it. Or possibly 'comfortable' wasn't the word - he knew it was fake, he'd cottoned on to that almost immediately, and whilst he was suppressing that thought, because he didn't want to openly acknowledge he knew he was trapped in a box - or had been for a couple of days, at the same time, knowing it wasn't real helped him deal with it. It meant that he could use what he knew, without feeling that deep-seated pain about what he'd lost. Because none of this was real, it was all just pretend, a game, this wasn't anything like his old life, as much as it really was.

He looked up, though, as he heard his name called. That was different. He was alone down here, he knew he was. He set the mug he'd been drinking from down near the embers to keep warm and pushed himself off, heading towards the voice. "Hello?" he called back.

Orienting herself towards where she'd heard him, Eris walked in that direction, reaching out absently to touch some of the trees as she walked past them. It didn't take that long to see the fire, to catch sight of him. She got to the edge of where the trees were, not actually going out into the clearing. She wasn't sure why she was hesitating like she was, but...there it was. She stopped before she entered that space. She also didn't say anything, because well...she'd arrived. 'Hi' just seemed odd to her. She guessed she could start with 'So, you really are in crazy magic wonderland', but that wouldn't work either. Plus, he'd been ignoring her for a day, and she still felt all kinds of unsteady with that, so she flat out didn't have any idea what to say. In the end she remained still, and just kind of watched him.

He stopped as he saw her and he felt this wave of relief wash over him that she was really okay, then pushed that back. Of course she was fucking okay - he knew she was okay, she'd told him she was okay, she'd probably gone and got a load of sleep yesterday, then they were let out this morning. She was fine. She needed to start taking her pills again today though - he wondered if she'd done that. His eyes dropped to her wrist, even though he knew her watch was broken, had told her to do that. But still, he looked anyway, until it hit him to wonder why the hell she was here and he looked back up at her - though the surprised question didn't really come out that way as it went through his usual filter first. "Didn't expect to see you here, Princess."

Eris opened her mouth to answer him, then shut it again because she had no idea what she was going to say to that. Like she didn't want to ask him again if he was alright. Because he'd answered that pretty damn plainly yesterday, hadn't he? Why wouldn't he be? He was just peachy. Peachy keen, even. Just fine. She leaned back against the tree she was still near, and unzipped her coat, since it was starting to get too warm, or maybe she just didn't want the cold clinging to her like it seemed to be. A few things went through her head to say, none of which she accepted. She couldn't tell him she had to check on him. That she had been worried. That she knew the elevator was going to be a problem for him. That she wanted to know if he needed anything, or if he had everything he needed. Hell, even if she did ask that last one, she knew what he would say. No, he had everything, thank you very fucking much. Even if he didn't. "Thought I would see wonderland." she said back eventually, after she knew she'd taken too long to say something.

Right, she was just curious - of course, why would it be anything else. He'd told her where he was, after all. Except... "How'd you find it?" he asked, changing the wording there - she wasn't looking for him, after all. She'd said that.

"When I woke up, there was an elevator...I took mine up. Yours wasn't hard to find." she told him, since hey, that was easy. That answer she could give him. She didn't have to think about it. She shrugged her coat off of her shoulders, and set it at the base of the tree, sitting down for a moment so she could unlace her boots. If there was grass, she wanted to feel it beneath her feet. Just for a little bit, if he didn't bitch about it. That and she just wanted to be out of wet cold clothes. Not that she'd be removing much else. She did reach up to drag her fingers through her hair, shaking some of the water out of it.

Brett watched her, wondering if she thought that answer made any kind of sense. "Why wasn't mine hard to find?" he asked her, frowning. "Where does it go to?" He wondered if everything led to a central place - but then, she'd clearly been outside - she was wet, was dressed for outdoors. It had been snowing, before they got put in these rooms - maybe the elevators came up in town. That would make sense. She'd walked... "If you're cold, sit next to the fucking fire," he told her, the eye rolling tone covering his worry as he thought things through - it still hadn't been that long since she'd been sick, after all. He turned and headed back that way, which was as much of an invite as he could give her.

It was an invite she would take, because she definitely hadn't been going to go there on her own. So, when he did that, she paused long enough to take her socks off, and she left them with her things, before she pushed herself up to walk over to the fire. When she got there, she didn't sit down by it so much as curl up on her side as close as she could without risking burning herself. She realized she'd skipped part of the equation for him, and filled it in. "The elevators go up to our houses. The ones we got when we were put in the town. Or...I think that's how it worked. That's how it worked with my house, I guessed it was the same for you, and I was right."

Brett had spent a lot of time yesterday on the floor by the fire - it felt good to get out of the chair, and lying on his side had eased some of the discomfort of not having access to so much that was necessary. But as he looked down at her, lying there, he made no effort to actually join her. It'd be messy, he decided. She'd watch him getting himself out of the chair, then he'd have to move his legs until he was in a position he could sustain. It'd be embarrassing, possibly humiliating if it didn't go perfectly. Better to stay where he was. "There's coffee if you want," he told her, indicating the single cup. They hadn't given him enough for two, obviously. He didn't comment again on where the elevator went, though he took it on board. He just didn't want to think too much on that tiny space, and leading up to that small house. Which meant that they'd moved them out of the vicarage, back where they were.

She shook her head at the offer, making a little bit of a face as she did so, eyes mostly on the fire. She brought her foot up and absently brought it in closer to the flames, though not close enough to catch her jeans on fire. That would be counterproductive. "My stomach still doesn't like me much." she said in way of explanation. She curled her arm beneath her head, and shut her eyes, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He was okay, and...he was happy down here, even, so even if the elevator got to be a huge problem and he couldn't manage it without proper sedation, he'd be okay. Or, that was her theory and she was sticking to it until proven wrong.

"Have you eaten anything?" Brett asked her, roughly, wondering if she'd had a day like he'd had yesterday. And whether she'd eaten today. That sat right there now next to 'have you taken your pills', which he didn't ask. Nor did he ask her whether she'd been to find the doctor now that they could get out. Questions, questions, so many of which didn't get asked.

She shook her head, making a vague 'nuh-uh' hum, not opening her eyes again for the moment. She curled up a little more, getting surprisingly comfortable for being on the ground. But maybe there was just something about the environment that she liked. She didn't let her thoughts drift any farther than that, thank you. Like she wasn't thinking about asking him why he'd ignored her. Or what any of that meant, or...a million other questions she wasn't entertaining in the slightest. So she laid there, curled up on her side getting warm again. And possibly letting herself relax a little. Just a bit.

Brett turned himself about, crossing over to the little stove setup that he actually had things to cook on today. He set a pan to warming, looking through the small box of food that was unlocked today, the keypad gone as if it had never been there. "Eggs do you? or will that clash with your stomach as well?" he asked, setting things out as he came to them.

She thought about it. Of course, with that thought came the one where she had to wonder why he was bothering. "I don't know." she said honestly. "Might as well not waste the food." she opted for. She was second guessing still. And in her second guessing, she was figuring that she might as well not go for anything that he might do that would be considered catering to her. She should also figure out when she was going to get back up and figure out where she was leaving to. Just because there was a princess room beneath her crappy old house didn't mean she wanted to stay there. She didn't. Here was nice, though. But...yeah that so wasn't happening.

Well, if she didn't know, she was getting eggs, Brett decided. Eggs were easy, and there were limits on what he could do with a ring and a single pan. It didn't take him but a few minutes before they were ready and he emptied them out onto his plate, adding a slice of buttered bread and he set the food in his lap as he headed over to her. He passed the plate down with a fork. "Here," he offered, a little gruffly.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, before she took it, pushing herself up with a faint wince. "I can't promise I'll keep it down." she warned lightly, not really going to ask him what he hadn't gotten about not wasting the food in the first place. He was being about as hospitable as Brett could get, she wasn't going to hand him a reason to kick her out already. Even if she was fully aware that she was going to have to go right back out into the freezing cold, and she didn't especially like that. She set the plate on her knee as she sat Indian style, taking an experimental bite of the eggs. She also took the opportunity to look around more properly, letting her eyes fall on the thing-what-started-with-a-b. "Do you actually have a bed in there?" she asked, turning her eyes on him and letting her gaze rest there for at least a short few moments, before she averted it again, finding something else to look at. Shiny flames were as good as anything.

"Sort of - more lots of blankets and something vaguely soft. Not gonna find a fully sprung mattress or anything, but it's better than what we had in the tent," he told her. For a start, the thing was open-sided on one side, so it didn't feel as close as the tent had. He watched her eating, not replying to her comment about possibly not keeping it down. if that's the way it was, then they'd know, but she should try and eat.

Eris ate slowly. Very slowly, really, and only a little at a time. She nodded when he answered her, not going to check or anything, not going to see for herself. She'd been rather harshly thrown out the last time she'd been in anything resembling his bedroom. Actually...that had happened a couple of times now. So, she wouldn't be heading anywhere near it. She'd just been curious. "Sounds nice." she offered, still looking around a little. "Do I hear birds?" she asked, the question an honest one. For all she knew she could just be hearing things.

"It's not bad - and yeah, you hear birds. Haven't actually seen any though, so I figure they're just dicking about and it's a recording or some shit." Like he assumed that the blue above them wasn't really sky. Knew that now, in fact, given that she'd said they were under his house. Under - that was another thing that his mind was blocking out right now. He knew if he actually openly faced that, it'd be hard. He'd spent so many months underground. But this environment wasn't like that, and so he was just not dealing with things on any conscious level. "You can look round - since you wanted to see the place and everything," he offered.

She looked back at him, seeming to consider for a few moments. "Are you going to eat anything?" she asked, holding the plate he'd given her back out to him, if he wanted some. She'd eaten about a quarter of it, which she was considering good at this point. And it wasn't as if they hadn't shared before. And alright, it hadn't been since the last time they'd been sat around a camp fire, but that was hardly the point. "I don't want to eat all your food." Since she didn't know how long he planned on being down here. And really, if he wanted to stay, she wasn't exactly going to make him leave. She might look around. She didn't know how far she'd go. She knew there were meant to be computers and all.

Brett shook his head. "I've eaten already," he told her, not adding the dismissive 'don't worry about me'. That would be having to raise the issue of whether she would or not. But, she'd cooked for him when he couldn't for himself, hadn't she? "And I have more food - you've hardly eaten enough for a small bird there, Princess," he pointed out. She'd waste away to nothing, if that's all she ate.

"I know, but I don't want to eat too much then have it sit badly and...I don't know if forests come with plumbing." she admitted. She didn't figure her losing her lunch over by a tree was going to do anyone any favors. "I still don't feel well." she said, which she knew she'd implied, what with her not being sure that she could keep everything down, but that put it a little more plainly. "I can try to eat more later." she added, to placate him somewhat. She would, she just didn't know when. Or if it would be the rest of this. She took one more bite basically just to help appease him, though.

"Told you - you can look around if you want. And don't feel like you have to force it down, just on my account," he added, watching her do just that, which annoyed him. Then again, he was a man who was easily annoyed and he was on edge today, knowing that he couldn't stay down here, not really. he could pretend he could all he liked, but sooner or later, he was going to have to face that elevator and that knowledge, even though it wasn't openly acknowledged, had him stressed.

She set the plate down, and glanced at him for a long moment, looking like she might say something, but in the end she didn't. Instead, she looked back at the fire for a moment, then stood up, and stretched a little, mostly giving herself a second to keep steady. Then she walked around the fire, heading along slowly, looking around everywhere at once, or seeming like that's what she was trying to do. Which, to be fair, was exactly what she was trying to do. This place was interesting, and she liked it better than she'd liked her place. But then again, in her place she'd been alone. Words on a screen hadn't been nearly enough.

He followed on behind her, giving her some space to move, but definitely accompanying her wherever she chose to go. Not that there was much choice - the four paths that led to the computers, and the one that led back to the pool. Other than that, it was just trees.

She'd kind of expected him to stay where he was, and do...whatever it was he was going to do. She had no idea. She didn't expect to be followed, so when he did, she glanced behind her at him, then slowed slightly to walk less in front of him and more with him. The first path she took went to a computer. "Who's on the other end of that one?" she asked, already turning back from it, because it was just a computer, but curious none the less.

"Nobody now," Brett told her, honestly - given that the person who'd been there was standing in front of him now. He'd spent a lot of time in front of that machine - the tire tracks on the ground gave that away. This one and the one opposite, Camber's.

"Okay, who was on the other end?" she asked, not really catching that he meant her. She figured everyone else had gone up their elevator shafts to freedom as well, the only one who would have been stuck down here would be Brett. She veered when she started to hear the sound of water, and wanted to investigate that. It didn't sound like a shower so much as...she didn't know. She'd have to see.

"You were," he told her simply. But then she was walking away again. Well, it wasn't like there was a lot to see, really, was there? A small clearing, a computer - it was hardly fascinating. He began to follow her again, though he left it a couple of beats before he did.

She glanced back at him when he said who it was, and kept her eyes on him for a long moment. I still was. You were ignoring me. You left me. she thought, but didn't say, turning back around so she could keep following the sounds. Which eventually led her to the pool, and when she saw that she stopped dead, blinking. Her head tilted slightly to the side as she attempted to make sense of that. "You have a waterfall? And a spring?" she asked rhetorically. Good goddamn, that looked...well. Insanely nice.

He rolled up beside her and looked down at the pool. "Well, you hardly get a bathroom in the middle of the woods now, do you? Have to admit - give them points for authenticity," he said with only the barest touch of sarcasm. He'd not said anything else as she'd looked at him before - she hadn't said anything, he wasn't going to say anything. Yes, he'd sat there all day - until she'd left him. And then he'd worried all fucking night, left with messages that didn't come through as often as he would have liked them to. But he wasn't going to bring that up unless she did. And somehow, he doubted she would.

She walked up to the side, then sat down on one of the rocks, reaching down to drift her hand through. She looked surprised again. "It's warm." she observed. Which he would have taken note of. But she looked for a moment like there was a near childlike excitement on her features, a pure appreciation for something very simple. She of course wanted to try it, but...was entirely unsure what he would think of that, and decided not to find out.

"It is," he confirmed, with a small smile. He'd liked that pool. He liked that pool. But there was that growing awareness again that he'd have to leave it behind. That that was for the best anyhow - he wouldn't be in this place where he wasn't really thinking about where it was. But there was that elevator. And if he survived that, he'd never be able to come back down here again. He wasn't thinking about that. "It's nice. They put something in the water. Minerals and shit, I think," he told her, actually encouraged to talk by that look on her face. He'd never seen that one before.

"Really?" she asked, grinning still. She kept drifting her hand back and forth in the water, catching the small smile he'd had for a moment there. "Must be really nice." she said, imagining it to be. And for him, probably very much so. It wasn't like he was going to haul himself in and out of a tub very often, or she didn't figure he would. And he didn't really look like the bath salts kind of guy. Definitely not a 'real men take bubble baths' sort. "I had a big tub...y'know, when I could get to it. But I didn't really use it." she told him, shifting so she was leaning her arms on the rock she'd been sitting on, so she could lazily drift her arm through the water--though she took the time to push her sleeve up. Her jeans were already wet she didn't need anything more to be damp on her.

He watched her, sitting there, trailing a hand in the water, looking happy. For a moment, he just watched her - and then he abruptly looked away, upwards, toward the trees. "Yeah, not bad," he agreed, gruffly, not at all imagining her and any of that. Nope, not in the slightest. Fuck. He looked back down, back along the path they'd come from.

"If I ask really nicely, can I come down here sometime and use it?" she asked. Not today, she didn't know how she'd feel about it. And she hadn't been going to ask at all, but if it was a vague 'sometime' that was less on the spot. So maybe it was okay. She noticed he was looking back towards the path, and wondered if he was concerned about the fire, or if maybe he just wanted to leave. When really, if she had her way, she wouldn't mind staying. She put her eyes back on the water, changing the subject before he had a chance to answer her in the first place. "I think I'm going to move to the vicarage." she told him.

He looked back to her, frowning slightly and ignoring her question completely as he went with the statement. "You are? Why?" but, then again, why not - before he knew she hadn't lived in her own house anyhow. She'd broken into another, because she hadn't wanted people to be able to find her. "If this is... People knew you were at the vicarage before. Nobody came. And if they were going to, they'd check there first." He wondered what the current situation with Everett was, but didn't specifically bring that up.

She shrugged one shoulder, not looking back at him as she continued to play in the water, and she tugged up her other sleeve to do the same, switching. "There was the snowstorm. They might not have been able to." she said, voice soft. Almost too quiet to be heard over the water, but not quite. "And I liked that place better. Maybe it just matched what the inside of my head feels like." she said, getting a little more in depth than she really meant to, but her mind was drifting slightly, and she was just talking. A place that at one point was probably rich, in immaculate repair, beautiful, perfect, and now it's faded and torn, broken down. Flawed. "I just...don't really like that first house they put me in. It was across the street from Everett, just to fuck with my head. It was across the street from Lina, just to do it some more. I...I don't like that place." She didn't like any of the emotions she'd gone through while living there, was more specific. And while it hadn't exactly been happy fun times at the vicarage, she'd had him there. And even if he wouldn't be there anymore, it still held better associations than that first house. Where she'd barricaded herself in then sat in the bottom of a closet and cried. about she not stay there? Ever? "I liked it better there."

Your first house was across the street from Everett, but he lived in that one with you, Brett thought to himself, but was there really any point saying that? And who was he to have any opinion on where she may or may not live? "Well, if you liked it better - hopefully they'll let you stay. Hopefully they're done playing reset," he said, instead, keeping his tone relatively neutral. He left out any comment on the inside of her head - he could see how she might feel that way, given everything he knew about her. It was sad, but he could see it, and they didn't pick up on that with each other. Or, if they did, it ended in the kind of row they'd had the other day when she'd done it to him.

"I doubt it." Eris said. "...but that's where I think I'll be." she told him. "Just in case." She didn't put in just in case he needed her for something. Or wanted to find her. He could fill in his own blank there. She still didn't quite look at him again, letting the feelings she'd had yesterday wash back over her again. The silence on his end. How she was fairly sure now that she'd misinterpreted everything. Misjudged. Understood things all wrong, projected into the proceedings what she wanted there, not what was really there. She pulled her arm back from the water and crossed it under her chin with the first, eyes staying on the waterfall as she fell quiet.

"'Kay," he said, knowing that there was no 'just in case' - he'd be checking in with her, whether she let him know where she was, or whether he had to track her down. "You'll have to let me know the number there," he added.

Are you staying here? You could come with me. she thought but wild horses couldn't drag those words out of her. Instead she nodded. "Okay." she said. Then she gave a half smile, and looked back over at him, mostly just shifting her head on her arms to rest her cheek against them. "Will that mean I don't get to message you at four in the morning and complain that you never call?" she asked, remembering she'd teased him about that before. This felt weird. It felt...she didn't know. She didn't especially like it, either.

He gave her a slightly forced smile, but didn't answer - actually sparing her his response of 'you'd only complain if you didn't know when to take your meds'. After the other day, that seemed crass and anyway, he wasn't entirely sure it was, in fact, true. "You'd probably be telling me to fuck off instead," he said, eventually, a couple of beats later than it should have been,

She didn't so much notice that his response was late, something she would have picked up in a heartbeat before everything faded to black. She watched him for a moment, then let her eyes fall shut again, remaining still for a few moments. "I doubt it." she said eventually, honest. She didn't want him to fuck off. She didn't want him far off. She didn't like the idea of them giving up on leaving town again. But that was what everything felt like. And realistically, she probably wouldn't be able to travel in the cold for a while. Even if they did hit them upside the head with the reset factor.

He knew that she didn't want to be alone, but he couldn't help the looping thought of 'but there are other people'. And anyway, she found him overbearing and demanding and he was sure it was only a matter of time before she decided that he wasn't worth it, not even as a regular clock that could tell her when. "We'll see," he told her, quietly, again a little too late as he watched her lying there, eyes closed.

She didn't say anything. She didn't trust herself to. She felt like everything was too close to the surface. Definitely too close to the surface to be controlled. Her grip on control was tentative at best in matters like these, and she didn't want to push it when she knew perfectly fucking well that she'd let everything slip. All the things that were running through her head, all the questions she had. She was aware she still had a question, in theory. She didn't know if he'd decide not to answer anything for her because she wasn't on the brink of possible death. It wasn't as if he owed it to her. He'd done that to keep her talking. And he no longer needed to. She'd made it. And he was fine. Fine fine fine, and there hadn't been any reason that he wouldn't be. She needed to remember that part, not that it was difficult, what with it still stinging in the back of her mind.

She wasn't saying anything, and she was still just there, and he started to feel a little creepy, because he was just ...watching her. He swallowed and slowly exhaled, pushing himself back a little. "You can use the pool any time you want," he said, turning back towards the path. An offering to appease the off feeling of staring. But he felt all sorts of off today, like things really weren't right. But he'd known that already, hadn't he? They'd had an argument, things had been bad, then there was yesterday and that hadn't been any better. Now here they were, and she was here - and why was she here again? She clearly figured that access down here would be permanent, so why had she needed to come here straight away.

She opened her eyes and watched him leaving, and that felt wrong too. Wrong, or off, or bad...some mixture thereof. She appreciated the offer that she could use the pool any time she wanted. It would give her an excuse, but... Things still felt raw. She couldn't help but feel like he was leaving her again. Like yesterday with his silence, only this time he was physically separating himself. Which really meant she should go. Eyes staying on him as he retreated, she let him get back towards the center before she pushed herself back to her feet. She felt the grass beneath her, then followed silently, unsure what to say. When she walked back up, she didn't enter the clearing again, staying back like she had the first time. "...would it be better or worse for you if I was with you when you take the elevator back upstairs?" she asked, voice soft. She didn't ask if he wanted her to. She didn't ask if he needed her to, or anything. Just...what would be better. And that was if he was going back up at all. Honestly, considering they may not be leaving again together at all, and might be parting company, did he need to? This place would make him pretty happy. It was his element.

Brett turned back to her as she spoke and raised his chin slightly. She was going then. Well, there was no reason really for her to be here in the first place, was there? She'd come, she'd seen what she wanted to see. She was going. "Whichever," he told her, trying hard not to brave any emotion at all - whether to do with her, or to do with that fucking elevator.

She leaned lightly against the tree and rested her head against it as she kept her eyes on him. She looked like she wanted to say something, even opened her mouth to do so, then shut it again as she averted her gaze. Oh. Okay then. she thought to herself. And really, what exactly had she expected? What should have gone differently in that scenario? What the hell was she on, and why was she even talking about this in the first place. She knew she should move now. Probably grab her stuff and go, but she didn't move yet.

Brett didn't move, though he watched her as she did. "So - you going then?" he asked her. Would she insist he came with her? Would she insist that he got into that fucking coffin of an elevator car, would want to make sure he left? Or would she leave him down here, trust he'd come up sooner or later. Maybe she'd want him to go first, leave her down here. Maybe she didn't care, was just offering out of some sense of duty. He didn't know - he didn't even know what second guessing was here anymore.

Internally she winced. Well, that said everything, now didn't it. If she'd needed it spelled out for her, that was as spelled out as it was going to get. 'Hey, why don't you fuck off now' was what that said to her. She started to walk towards her things, making a wide sweep around him since she would have had to go nearer if she'd made the straight shot. "I didn't mean to intrude on your space." she said. "If you want anything for down here, I can probably get it. The town looked like it was back in working order but I could be wrong. I didn't pay that close attention." No, she'd come straight the fuck over here, like some stupid little puppy. Right. She didn't look back at him, because there was that whole emotions being close to the surface thing and she wasn't in the slightest bit steady enough to push anything.

He let her get across to the side of the clearing before he spoke, not sure whether he wanted to stop her or not. Or if he could. If he should. "You didn't intrude," he told her, his voice firm on that. He wouldn't have told her that she could come back down here if she had been.

She crouched and started to gather up her things, pausing for a moment when he spoke, and it took her a second to look back over her shoulder at him. She didn't turn completely, she just turned her head to the side, only half looking back over her shoulder, eyes focusing on the pretty lean-to. "Didn't I." she said. It was kind of a question. She didn't know, really. Hell, she didn't even know if she wanted him to answer her. If she wanted him to address her at all, or if she'd rather he just let her pick up her things and leave, before her dignity took a harder hit than it already had.

"No." But he still didn't entirely get why she was here. That he'd been growing more confused about since she'd been down here. He'd thought he'd had it figured out, but then with things she'd said, it'd left him unsure again. "Why did you come here?" he asked, on a whim, a totally unplanned question. Normally that would have been one he'd have kept to himself.

"I wanted to--" she started, but stopped, looking down again. What filled in that blank that she could actually say? She'd wanted to check on him? She'd wanted to see him? She'd wanted to see if he needed anything, and if he was okay with the elevator, and if he was going to resurface at all? She'd wanted to make sure that he was alright, even after he told her in no uncertain terms that he was perfectly fine and there'd never been any reason for her to think otherwise? She was silent for a few long moments, trying to figure out what to say, how to finish her statement. It was taking her a lot longer than she would have liked. In the end, she gave him an answer, but she didn't like the answer she gave. Because it said too much, and she was aware of that. "I wanted to see you." That covered pretty much everything. Picking up her things she started to head up the path she thought would lead her to the elevator, but stopped, looking around confused for a moment. Was that the right way? She didn't remember anymore. She'd really like to disappear around now.

That actually shocked him. Of all the answers he could have predicted, or guessed at, that one wasn't even on the list. So much so that he just stared as she walked off. She'd wanted to see him? It was only when she stopped again that he gathered himself enough to say, "....What?" Okay, possibly he didn't gather himself very much....

She didn't actually expect him to say anything, and she finally sighed, reaching up to drag her fingers through her hair that was still a bit damp. "I wanted to see you." she repeated herself. "I've seen you. It's pretty clear to me you'd rather I wasn't here, and I'm not exactly sure what fried wire in my head thought--" she stopped there. "Nevermind, it's not important. I'll just..." she made a vague gesture. "Leave you to it." was what she landed on to finish that statement. She didn't really look back at him the entire time. Mostly because she couldn't in any way deny the fact that she was hurt right now. Last time she'd felt this way she'd done a fairly adept job at convincing herself it was something else, but today? She wasn't having much luck with that. No, she was hurt. She just didn't need to let him see that if she didn't have to.

"I never said that," he told her as he tried to get through what she was saying. Things had been weird, sure - but he hadn't expected her to come down here. And with things the way they'd been the last few days... He didn't like it, but he would hardly say he was surprised. He just wasn't sure how to act right now. Wasn't sure exactly what was off - save for the fact they'd had a fight and not been able to clear the air.

"You didn't have to." she said, voice quieter. Tired. Or more edging towards 'sick and exhausted' which was closer to the mark. "I get it. I got it pretty clearly yesterday too. I don't--" know why I bothered. Only that's bullshit. Because I do know why I bothered. Because I was worried. And I wanted to see you, and the other night, I was fucking scared, and I thought I was going to die, and I wanted to see you again after that experience. Obviously, that whole thing really didn't play in with you. Which, after examining myself and facing up to some harsh truths, I realize is my own fucking fault. All the way around, really. So you don't even get called on being a bastard, because it's been my perceptions that have been fucked here. I did this to myself. You were perfectly clear from the very beginning what was up with you, and your opinion of me, and I'm pretty sure I've just been injecting my own damaged notions into everything. "I'm sorry." she said, and she wasn't even sure what she was sorry about. Everything, maybe.

She kept walking towards where she thought the elevator might be, severely unhappy and she paused once more. "...the ride is a long one...just so you're prepared for it. Okay?" she said, doing that half looking back over her shoulder thing again but she didn't come close to really looking at him. She wanted to say more than that, but didn't, looking helplessly down at the ground as she hoped she was even going in the right direction.

He set off after her, really not knowing what to say to that. He'd been thrown by what she'd said, and now he was thrown and confused. And confusion led to the rise of that too familiar anger. "Don't put words in my mouth, sweetheart," he said, loudly, though not quite shouting. "If I didn't want you here, you'd really know about it. I'd tell you. Not like I've backed down from doing that before," he pointed out. Okay, so he was never going to be the best welcoming committee, but he'd let her look around, and that was a big thing for him. And if she expected a warmer welcome, then she really should go find someone else.

She looked back properly this time, but only because he was closer. And she recognized that tone. "Okay, Brett, I won't put words into your mouth. Provide some for me then." she invited, still sounding tired, and she leaned her back against one of the trees she'd been about to pass, focusing her attention on him. If he was getting that tone, maybe he'd start bitching. Or...she had no idea. She didn't know what she was hoping for, either, really. what might be best.

He stopped, some distance from her, as she came back with that. It was an invitation - he just didn't know whether he wanted to take her up on it. Didn't like being put on the spot, but underneath his anger he knew he'd probably asked for it. The defensive wall was up though, protection in place. "I didn't fucking expect you to come down here," he told her, straight off, struggling with what he could and couldn't say, his anger making him want to speak, but he needed to watch what he just came out with. "But if you weren't welcome I'd've told you to fuck off the moment you appeared. It's - fucking hell, you know I thought that was it," he said, hesitating over that, then just giving up and coming out with it in a vaguely acceptable form that really didn't say anything like he could have done, but even that much was a concession in his head.

She kept her eyes on him, her face unreadable, expression entirely neutral as she listened. "Thought what was it? For me? That that was going to be the last time you spoke to me?" she asked, not going farther yet until that was clarified. Because with as little as she trusted her own perceptions in those moments, she just really needed it spelled out.

"Yes, Princess, that's what I thought," Brett told her, as though that should have been obvious. He wondered if she'd gone back and read through their conversation, whether she'd seen what she'd been like - if she got why he'd been as scared and worried as he had been.

Eris shut her eyes for a long moment, trying to reign everything in again. She rubbed at the bridge of her nose, at her eyes, and didn't say anything for a few long moments. "You weren't the only one." she said eventually, voice quiet. There was more there, but she didn't really know what she could and couldn't say right then. Still feeling like everything was off, and she had misread everything, she didn't have a proper gauge, and didn't want to make everything worse.

"So, yeah, I'm..." It was hard, deciding what to say. What he was and wasn't willing to put out there. "It's good to see you," he landed on, leaving it too long to finish that sentence. But there was nothing else he could say. Not that he'd allow himself to say. He hated feeling vulnerable, and she did that to him at times.

You're what? Fine? Slightly flustered that you're being visited unannounced by a woman you thought was going to die? her mind supplied to fill in that first blank, but she didn't say anything. She just looked over at him, and spent a little too long just looking, obviously having a lot of her own trouble with words. "It's good to see you too." she managed after a time. It was genuine, just difficult for her. Especially feeling so wrong-headed about everything.

"I just didn't expect you to come down here," he said, knowing he'd said it before. But he was still stuck on that, why she was here, what she was doing here. He was going over old ground because stepping onto new ground was something that he wasn't sure he wanted to do, though he noted that the spurt of anger had died back. That never helped - the world was easier to deal with when you were angry, everything flowed more smoothly, and now, instead, he was left just feeling uncertain.

"I heard you the first time." Eris said, looking at the grass beneath her feet for a time. There was a lot on her mind. How if he'd thought she was going to die, what did that mean? Nothing? And why had he ignored her yesterday? And why did he seem to be contradicting himself? But then again, maybe he wasn't, and she just didn't understand. Without looking up, she spoke again. "You keep saying that. But then you were pissed at me saying you don't want me here. And you thought I was going to die, but you told me you were fine, and you..." she drew in a breath and made a soft, frustrated sound, reaching up to drag her fingers through her hair. "I was scared, and you were there for me. I appreciate that. I just...wanted to see you. Check that you were alright, you said you were but I wanted to see...and you're alright, so..." she said, knowing she got lost in the middle there. She'd been going to ask him for clarification on things, ask him to make things make sense for her but in the end hadn't. He'd probably just look at her like she was stupid anyhow. Like she was meant to be able to put all of this together and for all she knew, that was the case.

"Just because I didn't expect you here doesn't mean that I don't... That you're not welcome," Brett told her, abruptly changing his wording mid-flow as he saw the words she'd put in there rising up in his reply and veering away from them. The 'w' word was up there with the 'c' word as a no-go area. "And yes - I thought you were going to die. All fucking night, I thought you were going to die. Even after you stopped fucking talking to me, I thought you were going to die. You. Not me. So yes, I was fine - I wasn't the one who'd possibly swallowed half a bottle of pills without fucking realising it." He didn't even know why that point had come up - what the hell else had he been meant to say to that? Because he sure as hell wasn't going to admit to anything else. He'd been physically fine.

"I heard you." she said. "I get it. Fine. Noted." she said, still not actually looking over at him again. Again, things slipped past her, things she would have caught once upon a time, caught, latched onto, held back for later. Just not anymore. "And you had word. I made sure you had word." she said, ticking her gaze over towards him but not at him. More at the grass about a foot in front of him as opposed to actually laying her eyes on any part of his person. "And I know. You don't really need to yell at me for it, I know. I almost just punched my own ticket by accident. Trust me, it's pretty much carved into my psyche right now."

"I know I had word," Brett told her. It's not the same. There hadn't been enough word. Not the way he would have wanted. Not as often as he'd wanted. He didn't notice that she wasn't looking at him - because he wasn't looking at her either. Her general vicinity, yes - enough to know she was still there - but he wasn't actually looking at her.

She really needed to go. This conversation wasn't getting any easier, or less confusing, she still didn't even know what she wanted out of it, and as far as she could tell, it was all just getting worse. And she wasn't sure how she was doing it, either. A few voices in the back of her mind had helpful suggestions, but she wasn't really listening. Just one thought came through loudly. It was all in her head. She had a question, she just couldn't come up with a proper way to phrase it. There wasn't a proper phrasing. Plus, she didn't suspect she wanted the answer, either, so she left the question about how if he'd thought she was going to die, why had he ignored her yesterday unasked.

The silence drifted and Brett found it increasingly uncomfortable, until the urge to fill it became too much to deny. "It wasn't the same," he told her, reluctantly. "Word - it's not the same. It was never often enough. There were these huge... gaps... But - I just wanted to know you were okay, you know. That you were going to be okay. It was my own fucking fault, anyway. I should have fucking kept my temper - time and place and everything. I can.... understand why you didn't want to talk to me," he added, even more reluctantly. he wasn't good at suggesting that he might actually be wrong, especially not when he felt justified in his anger, just not with the circumstances in which he expressed it. There and then, he should have kept that to himself. And he didn't - and he paid for that.

That had her actually looking at him again. There were flickers of uncertainty on her features, behind her eyes as she did so. As she let that sink in. That sounded more like how she'd thought things had been. Which only served to confuse her more, but made her feel slightly better on some level. Of course, then there was the rest of it. "I didn't stop talking to you because you were angry with me." she said, after too long a time thinking about it all, she knew. "I knew you were going to be. I...honestly thought you were going to stop talking to me at that point. I didn't think I'd get a response at all." She was quiet for a moment, considering what else he'd said, the part she'd skipped over in the first place because she wasn't sure how to respond to it. "I didn't mean to..." she didn't know how to end that sentence. Make him worry? He hadn't said he was worried. Wait. He had, that night. She remembered the word on her screen. Possibly not the whole phrase it was attached to, but the word.

"You didn't mean to what?" Brett asked, not sure at all where she was going with that sentence. And anyway, it was an easier question than the other one which sprung to mind - which was why. Why did she stop talking to him then, if it wasn't because he'd been angry at her. She'd left. He would have stayed there all night. He did stay there all night.

"I didn't mean to make you worry." she said, making a slight face, and she sighed, looking away again, then back at him. "That's as close as I can say, I know that's not quite the right...word, or way to put it or something, but I can't think of how to say it. But I didn't mean to do that. I thought if you had word it'd be...I don't know. Good enough." Not that he'd said it wasn't good enough, just that it hadn't been the same, which, standing there, in the middle of the situation with him, she could understand. She didn't say anything for a long minute, eyes settling on his and staying there. "I didn't really want to do that to you, though. If it happened. I don't know what the end would have been like. I don't know what you would have gotten beyond...whatever was going on in my head, and then nothing." she said, voice quiet again. "You said it yourself. Wasn't that the bad part about still being able to talk to me?"

"I would rather have known," he told her, after a long period of silence as he looked at her. His voice was quiet, and he found himself thinking back to Scott-Steve-Stuart-god-he-wished-he-could-remember-the-guy's-name. Remembering his name seemed important right now. Or possibly it was just a distraction. He shook it off. "And you going didn't make me worry - I started worrying the moment you told me that fucking watch had gone off when it shouldn't have done. You going - all that did was mean... It gave me time. Switched the focus. Doesn't matter, it's over now. Just don't - don't fucking do it again," he told her, his voice growing rough and dismissive at the end there as he sought to cover up some of the rest of what he'd said.

Technically, you would have known. The next morning, anyways, when I never checked in with anyone. Though I wonder how long Everett would have kept it up for. How long he would have told you a little white lie. How long you would have believed it. She wondered what he did mean then, she'd taken what he said about it not being the same to mean he'd been worried. But if that wasn't the case, she wasn't sure what he did mean. "I'll try not to." she said to the last bit, considering she would. She didn't know how well she would do. It wasn't like she was that good at remembering her medication, or remembering if she'd already remembered her meds. The most regularly she'd taken them after not having them given to her twice a day by a slot in the wall, was when he told her. She just didn't figure that was going to keep happening. Wasn't his responsibility, and he wasn't going to be in the same place, so it would hardly be convenient. Would you have missed me if I did die on you? What would you have done if you knew I did? if I'd stayed talking to you then just stopped? How would that at all be better? Why would you rather have known? The news would have been more detached if you'd gotten it via a message from them. Or happening to talk to someone who had talked to me. Of course, if I hadn't talked to you, no one would have caught it, and I probably would have overdosed, because I would have just kept taking the meds when the watch went off. No one else would have caught that. Just you. "You said it wasn't the same." she said, tone lightly confused.

"Yes, I did," Brett confirmed. he looked away, then looked back a few moments later, his jaw flexing slightly, unhappy about having to explain himself, but knowing he was about to anyway. "When I was talking to you, I knew what was going on. I knew how bad you were, or whether you seemed to be getting better, or worse. I knew you were there." After all, she knew he'd not let her go even a couple of minutes without checking in unless he specifically knew she had gone somewhere to do something. "Getting messages - that's waiting to know that you haven't died yet. there's no context there, there's nothing more than a 'she's still alive'. And then the next wait for something that might not come. That's waiting for someone to die, not trying to keep them alive." And that difference meant something to Brett. That difference was a part of him he didn't like to acknowledge, but couldn't completely deny. That he tried so hard to hide and ignore, but that was still there, underneath the layers of pain and hurt and anger.

She kept her eyes on him, paying close attention when he spoke. That...she could understand. Some people might not really get the difference, but there was a big one. It also confirmed a lot in the back of her mind that she thought about Brett in general, as a person. That right there was the hero in him talking. The person who volunteered to go risk his own neck to save other people's. Bruised and buried, but still there. Not quite eradicated, even if he probably would prefer it that way. She didn't know how to feel about it. It came back to the same things she'd thought before. Seeing who he used to be still intact in there somewhere was a good thing. But knowing that might mean the same thing for her wasn't. There were a few things that came to mind to say, but she didn't. Like she didn't tell him that there was nothing he could really have done but get upset when she did drop on him. Since she was back to thinking that he would have been. Like he would have been upset if strangers died on him back in the day. In the end she nodded, acknowledging his explanation and accepting it.

That was it - a simple acknowledgement, and he told himself that he had absolutely no grounds to be disappointed about that. None at all. She'd asked. He'd told her probably more than he'd had to, since she'd never actually asked for an explanation, but he'd given her one anyway. One that she probably didn't want - hence the lack of any real acknowledgement there. Should he really be surprised she didn't know what to say to that? This was why he didn't tell people shit. You offer up information and nobody wants it anyway. "Yeah, well, doesn't matter now," he muttered, looking away again.

She hesitated, then shook her head a touch. "Matters to me." she said. Which it did, really. "I told you I appreciated what you were doing in the first place." she said, having a bit of a hard time really figuring out how she was going to word things or what she was going to say. "I wouldn't have chosen my course of action...or I at least would have thought about it more if I'd known it was going to have that kind of impact. I didn't think about it that way. I just long as you knew whether or not I was still breathing that it would suffice." And she hadn't thought about that buried hero complex.

"Yeah, well, this isn't about me, is it Princess? And it wasn't. So don't think you have to fucking cater to me or some shit. You did what you had to do for what was going on with you," he told her, though he was aware that that wasn't the first time she'd said that she'd do something differently because of him. As if she actually gave a damn what effect what she did would have on him and that had him on the defensive.

And for some reason, she hadn't been expecting that. She didn't know why, he always got randomly pissy with her. She also didn't know why she was feeling more slapped down by it than usual. Maybe because she'd come close to things there. That hadn't been easy for her to say in the first place, and...right. So, she was left frowning for a moment, and blinking at him, before she turned away again. She picked up her things, and started up the trail again, hoping that it was going to lead her where she needed to be in the first place, because having to find it by going back through didn't really work when there was storming off going on.

Brett closed his eyes and sighed a little as she stormed off. Great. He'd gotten possibly a little too good at the whole alienating people shit over the years. He wondered if he'd read things wrong - what she'd said, it didn't necessarily match up with how he'd interpreted her non-response to his admission. And now she was storming off after his pissy reaction to her own admission and... he set off after her. "Wait - Julia." There was a hesitation over the name, but he used it - given that she'd walked off on 'Princess' there wasn't really anywhere else to go on that one.

She stopped when she heard her name, and every time it came up it still felt that little bit strange to her. Seeing it in writing was strange, hearing it out loud was. Maybe because she was still trying to connect an identity to it, when she wasn't at all sure what that identity was. She wasn't sure who Julia was. She just knew she most certainly wasn't really Eris anymore. Either way, she stopped when he said her name, and she drew in a breath, letting it out before she turned halfways round, looking back at him over her shoulder. She didn't ask him what he wanted, he'd said to wait--she was waiting. Here's where he tells me that the elevator is back that way.

He came closer this time, up to her, rather than stopping at a distance before. He told himself that was because they were closer to the elevator now - she was, in fact, on the right path - but that thought threw up questions in his head about the fact he didn't want her to go. He pushed those back down again. Which raised the other question of what he said next. Which he hadn't thought about at all, so there was a silence before he actually spoke. "Why did you go?" he asked, realising he was coming back to the question he hadn't asked earlier. "If it wasn't because I pissed you off. Why did you go?"

Of course he'd ask that. Just what she didn't know if she could answer in any satisfactory way. Not without selling herself out, at any rate, or that was how she felt. But he asked, and she felt like she owed him an answer. She looked at the ground, looking at the tracks the tires of his chair left in the dirt, and the wheel, since he had come up close. She bit at her lower lip, and tried to think of how to say things. In the end, she sat down, lowering herself to sit on her jacket, and she had her knees pulled up towards her chest. She rested her cheek on them, face turned towards him even if she wasn't actually looking at him, she was looking past him, back the way they'd come. She kind of wanted to do what she'd done when they were on the back porch of the abandoned house. She'd sat behind him, sort of between the wheels of his chair. But that would be weird to do right now. It wouldn't make sense and it would be blatant hiding. So she didn't let herself, even if that was her instinct for a few near panicky moments.

"I wasn't doing very well." she said, when she found her voice again. "And, I was kind of thinking that this was it." And by 'kind of' she meant 'definitely'. "And I was thinking about what I might want to say to you if it was. And that was why I said what I did in the first place. I thought...doesn't matter. And I knew you'd be mad. I know you wouldn't take it well. I was really surprised when you messaged me back at all. And it just...wasn't fair." she said. "I'd said something, that I meant to be something helpful? Maybe? Someday? And all I did was make you angry. But you were still there. And I just...that wasn't fair." She was quiet for a moment, giving herself a second. "And I just...there was a ton on my mind, and I didn't want to dump it all on you. Half of it was shit I wouldn't have wanted to know anyways. And I didn't really trust myself anymore after what I said not to start...I don't even know? That's how off I was feeling. I can' head's all messed up anyways, and I've never felt like that before, and I just didn't know what to do. So I had to go. But it wasn't because you were mad." And there was the part where you were the only one I wanted to be talking to, and it might be the last time we spoke, and that was what I did with it. Just...pissed you off. That would be your last memory. Me, saying shit and hurting your feelings, then I'd up and die on you. I really couldn't do that. She couldn't get herself to say that last part though. It implied far too much. Like that he would remember her at all. Or that she would want him to have a better memory of her than that. And that she wanted to be talking to him, when she was at her worst there, her most vulnerable. That was all far too much and she'd already given away enough in one shot.

Brett considered that - there was a lot there to consider. One thing stuck out to him, caught him, and he didn't like that. "You - sounds like you were trying to get rid of me," he said, though he tried to rein in his hurt at that thought. Her expectation of pissing him off - even if she'd apparently been trying to do it in a 'nice' way. A knowledge that what she said he wouldn't be able to appreciate straight off. Her saying that she'd not thought he'd message her back at all. Her complaint that it wasn't fair that he had done. The fact that she couldn't cope with any of it - that she'd left when he'd refused to. Had he been meant to walk away?

She ticked her gaze from the path back to Brett, and a light frown flickered over her features. She started to shake her head, the frown settling there, one leaning more towards confusion than anything else. "No, I--" she started, but broke off, really considering that. "I think I was just...trying to spare you a little." she landed on. "Not get rid of you, just..." she trailed off a moment, and gave him a really weak ghost of a smile, which didn't last very long. "I mean, is that really what you wanted to do with your night? Go through some massive head trip with someone like me? Who's head isn't ever really that great to start with, and I was just so...fuzzy, and I don't think I was making sense, and you have a hard enough time dealing with me, I didn't really think you'd appreciate having to sit through the melt down I was going through." and then hey, she said that last thing she hadn't been saying. It slipped out more than she intended to say it, though. "I didn't really want you remembering me like that." Then she looked away again, because she didn't in any way want to see how he reacted to that. "Not that I have a suggestion for how I would want you to remember me, if you did. Just...not words on a screen that steadily got less and less coherent and more and more panicked and scared and probably then there'd be the slide down into total mental failure, and then...nothing."

"Yes, that's what I wanted to do with my night," Brett told her, stubbornly. "That's all I wanted to do with my night. Even if all it entailed was you getting steadily less coherent and more scared. Because at least I could have been there with you - instead you had to go do that to a guy who tried to kill you." He didn't know about the other two people she'd had access to. At best, they were strangers. She would have said if they hadn't been. But, in any event, he knew she'd picked Everett. And he knew where he stood on that guy.

She looked back at him, not saying anything for a few long minutes. She just watched him, tried to fit that statement in with everything else in her head. Tried to figure out how it fit. Or what she had to move around to make it fit. "I was a mess, Brett. I'm kind of still a mess." she said. Kind of. Yeah. Try she was, and she knew she was. "I didn't want you to have to go through that. This entire situation is fucked up enough as it is. I I said. I didn't really trust myself. You don't even want to know what was going through my mind. I didn't--I'm sorry." she said, at the end feeling like she owed him that, even if she didn't know why.

Why was he even trying to justify this? Why was he putting himself out there? Exposing himself like that - admitting things like the fact he actually wanted to be there for her? All when she clearly didn't want him to. They were talking in 'was's. This wasn't now, this wasn't even future - this was something that was in the past and an angle that hadn't come about. "Fine - I didn't. And you're still here. You're right - situation's fucked, so let's just leave it," he told her.

"Next time I accidentally OD, I'll be sure to invite you for the breakdown?" she suggested, trying to lighten things a little, but she didn't actually bank on it working. "If you..." she just didn't know where that sentence ended, and she stopped before it got messier than it should be. "Just don't say I didn't warn you that it'll be...bad. The worst part was sitting there thinking that I was wrong about everything ever, and my entire perception base is fucked. Which I'm still trying to figure out if that's true or not." she admitted. She reached out and brushed a little bit of dirt off the tread of the wheel closest to her.

"Next time they give you something to tell you when to take your meds, I'm going to break it myself before you have a chance to learn to rely on it," Brett growled back. Whatever the reason for that watch malfunctioning - whether it was because she dropped it, or some scheme by the scientists, he knew at whose door he firmly laid blame. "So, there's not going to be a next time." He left it at that, though he could feel it hanging in the air - that unspoken press to question what she meant by a fucked perception.

She sure as hell wasn't going to offer up any extra information on what she'd said. Instead she held her wrist up. "It bit me anyways." she told him, meaning the bruise there. Which had been her fault entirely, but it was better than asking her own question. Which was if there wasn't going to be a next time, how exactly was that going to come about? She was moving to the vicarage. Maybe. He was...doing whatever it was he was going to be doing, and being they didn't have any immediate plans for escape attempts, it would be really intensely weird for her to ask him to live with her. It wasn't like they'd been living together by choice before. And he liked his space. He liked his space, that other house sucked anyways, and he had this right here, which was pretty awesome in the grand scheme of things. so he might just say fuck it, and instead of dealing with stupid town winter land of fucked up people, he could just stay here and have warm woodsy summer land with a great spring and lean-to that started with a B.

Brett looked at her proffered wrist, the bruise dark and obvious there and he hesitated, then resolutely didn't go with his instinct, which had been to reach out and touch it. he lifted his eyes to hers. "Looks like that hurt," he offered, instead.

She hadn't expected him to do anything but look, and she took her hand back. "That's what happens when your migraine's turned up to eleven and you forget little things like unclasping the fucking thing before throwing it across the room." she said. "I maintain it bit me." Though really, the major bite had been the malfunction. Which was her fault--so far as she considered, anyhow. But then again, that had been a revelation in her own head that had helped contribute to the 'hey Brett probably doesn't need to see me like this' idea. That yeah, this whole thing? Her being where she was? Her fault. It'd be nice if she could blame the scientists but in moments of clarity, she didn't think that was actually the case.

"You had a migraine?" he asked her. That figured - he hadn't really thought about it, but with everything she had going on, it made sense that she got them. "And, generally, if you don't unclasp something before throwing it - you're arm goes as well. Take it you ripped the damn thing off? It tinkling at you again?" he asked her, going for the lighter path there, since he could do and get away with it.

She nodded, frowning a little bit. "Did I not tell you that? I thought I told you. It was...I got the headache and went upstairs...did I tell you I thought they gave me an injection for it?" she asked, totally unsure. Maybe she hadn't told him. "And yeah I ripped it off. It went off when I was trying to lay there in the dark and quiet and die, and I just...god I would have happily taken an icepick to my temple at that moment in time." The migraines really just floored her, crippled her down to being less than useless. She frowned a little, thinking. "Everett helped me take my meds that night. He was drunk." And yet he'd been stone cold sober when he'd tried to kill her. She thought. That was fuzzier a memory than his helping her with her meds.

"You told me about the injection," he told her. He just couldn't remember if she'd mentioned a migraine, or just called it a headache. Honestly, at the time, he'd had other things to worry about. He listened to what else she had to say there and realised something was bugging him. And he couldn't ignore it. "If you're moving back there - will you take one of the first floor rooms," he asked her, specifically not asking her to take his room, but acknowledging to himself that that was what he meant. In any event, he'd hated her being up those stairs.

She opened up her mouth, then shut it, and nodded. She could do that. She didn't need to clarify why he was asking her. It was probably 'just in case'. Because if 'just in case' happened, and she was upstairs, that wasn't going to work out terribly well for either of them. Assuming he even knew anything happened. She still wasn't really allowing herself to think about how things were going to work now. Or how she wanted them to work. Because how she wanted them to work really really displayed how vulnerable she was. Plus, it wasn't as if it was news to him. She didn't want to be alone. She'd told him that. More than once, even. But it sure as fuck wasn't his responsibility to be the one to make sure she wasn't. Even if she'd signed him up for the task for a while now. "I can do that." she said, voice slightly more muted than a moment ago.

"Thank you." It meant a lot to him that she'd do that - and that she'd do it without making a fuss about things, or making him explain himself. Because explaining would be meaning having to make himself vulnerable, and he didn't want to do that. He'd done that too much recently and he was still waiting for it to come back and bite him. And the more vulnerable he made himself, the more he expected that backlash - and that led to situations like they'd already encountered, where he read situations wrong, because he expected her to disappoint. It never even occurred to him that maybe she just wouldn't and he was waiting for nothing.

"You're welcome." she answered him. That was simple. Sure. She'd get her shit...which she didn't have much of anyways, pack it up in...whatever she happened to find, and she'd move there. Where there was the cemetery and the church around the building. Where no one was for a pretty large space. She could be there all by herself. Just her, the rats and the dead. ...she really didn't want to be alone. Fuck. She rested her chin on her knees and looked down at his feet, taking in the details of his boots, because it was better than looking up at him. Or thinking about how she'd take his room. And how that was probably fucking creepy of her, but she'd do it anyways. She'd claim bigger bed if she had to justify it. She half fidgeted with a frayed string on the end of her jeans leg, not paying attention to it. Questions were rising up in her head again. She really hated those fucking questions. It wasn't like she was going to ask any of them.

He looked at her, eyes resting on the top of her head as she looked down. He caught the movement, the way she was playing with the hem of her jeans, the way she was curled up. "...And I'll call you, morning and evening. Make sure you're taking your meds. So you'd better fucking be in," he said, hiding things behind the tone and the swearing. Hiding the fact that he cared about what happened to her. Hiding the fact that he knew she didn't want to be left and that he couldn't promise her any more than that contact that he had an excuse for. Him, that guy who hated people, who'd turned pushing people away into an artform. He couldn't do any more and he knew that she only got that much because they could both pretend that it was only this once. Or that there was some other reason. or they could just ignore that there needed to be any reason at all or that any possibly existed. She allowed him to not have to make himself vulnerable.

She was going to leave, and he would be staying here. Him saying he'd phone her really hit that home hard, and it knocked that hollow place in her chest she'd felt when she'd gotten the watch. That sort of indescribable empty place that popped up without her knowing how to deal with it. And maybe he would phone her. But this was Brett. What was he going to do beyond 'ring ring, take your goddamn meds. click'? What, were they going to talk about the weather? Not likely. And knowing that she was feeling like she was, it just dropped a huge wash of self loathing over her. God, she was fucking pathetic. Especially since what else was playing in there was that he wasn't going to need her for anything anymore. In the other house, she'd had to get him food, or anything from the kitchen, because he wouldn't go in there. And she'd thought today, even, that he might need her to help him with the elevator, because it was such an enclosed space, and he was going to freak out. But really...Brett? Was pretty fucking capable. it was like she'd told him before. He could do a hell of a lot more than he thought he could, and he'd done just fucking fine without her up til now. She was just...a charity case. Someone who was a little too damaged to walk away when anyone else would have. Someone he had to watch out for. Maybe she'd do that counting the pills thing he'd suggested.

"Thank you. I'll try to remember better. In case you're busy." she told him. Because she didn't really want to that. Just the girl he had to ring in to twice a day like someone checking on their kid. Hopefully, however, he'd just know she sucked at remembering properly. That she could remember well enough that she had to take her meds, but was sketchy on if she'd done so or not. Which meant she could either skip it entirely thinking she'd already done it, or overdose because she didn't realize she had. "And I'll be in." she added belatedly, trying to push back that crushing feeling of being alone. It was already starting, and she knew why. It was because she'd spent two days all by herself, and the second day he hadn't been speaking to her. And it wasn't like she'd been chatting up anyone else. As much as she owed Everett for helping her, she didn't want to sit and chat and make nice with him, and the other people, whoever they were, could fuck off.

So she was already starting to feel anxious. Already starting to feel a twist in the pit of her stomach, as she understood she needed to get up, and leave. And that would be that. Fuck, she'd come straight here because she wanted to see him after nearly dying and he'd needed her to explain that shit to him. To justify her presence. To answer why. It wasn't like she was going to be able to have a handy excuse like that for just coming over to visit him, now was it? And what was she going to say? She just came by because she couldn't handle being alone in that house anymore, or any house, and could she just sit with him in the same room for a while? But then that wouldn't work well for her either, because she stuck with Brett for reasons. Because she liked him. Even if she didn't really like owning up to liking him, she did. Even if most of what came out of his mouth was bitching in one fashion or another, she still enjoyed his company on some level. And she still had lingering trust issues with him, but she trusted him more than anyone else. Flat out, she wanted to be around him. And it wasn't just because he had pretty eyes and a heartbeat. She liked talking to him, even if it was like pulling teeth. She liked when once in a blue moon, he'd find something to smile about. And when he did, he looked like a whole different person. He interested her. He kept her guessing, and wanting to know more. And he fed her just enough information to string her along with it, and part of her didn't mind, because it meant there was more to dig for tomorrow. She wasn't going to have excuses anymore. And Brett wasn't exactly the drop by and have coffee type.

Brett rolled his eyes at her words. "I've hardly got an active social life, Princess," he reminded her. His days were generally spent avoiding people where possible, after all. "I doubt I'll be busy." He paused, before adding, "Who knows - might be glad of the distraction." His tone was light, purposefully so, not wanting to give anything, make any insinuations, put himself out there at all. But it was getting harder to deny that he sought out her company. For all he usually caused arguments, for all he didn't entirely trust her and was continually waiting for her to let him down, for all he knew there were whole swathes of issues there, he wanted her company. He just didn't know how to deal with that, and didn't know how to deal with the rejection he anticipated if he ever really let that be known.

She glanced up at him at the last part. She didn't know whether he was saying that to make her feel better, or if it was true. Attempting to logic out what the likelihood of either case was going to make her head hurt, and beyond that, she just didn't want to think about it. She wanted to take it. So, what wound up happening was she looked at him for a few heartbeats, then she smiled a bit at him. It was light but genuine. "I probably would be." she said. "There's only so much exploration I'll be able to do of that house, and while the Alice in wonderland headtrip of it all will be funny the first six times I can't remember what's in the scary basement, it'll lose it's shiny eventually. Though if you do call and I'm missing, just assume I'm lost in the house somewhere. You know me...not really a social bunny."

"Well, if you're gonna get lost, do me a favour and get lost on the first floor, 'kay," he told her, because he couldn't deny the fact that he would come looking for her if he didn't get a response. Especially in the next few days, when everything that had happened recently was right there at the forefront.

"I'll try." she told him. Though she didn't really expect that she would. it was a big house, she hadn't seen all of it. Or even most of it. She'd need to explore the space. She'd rather not do it alone, but...she was trying to pretend she thought for even a moment that she would be okay. Plus, even if she asked him if he wanted to look around the house with her, he'd say no. She'd have to help him with it, and Brett didn't do help. He didn't even do help when he absolutely needed it. Are you really going to call? What happens if I don't answer? What happens when you stop?

Brett nodded, once, agreeing with that. They both knew he couldn't have been serious anyhow - she couldn't live her life to revolve around what he could and couldn't do. What he was capable of. And he wouldn't really ask her to. His world was far too limiting for any normal person. He didn't want to be limited to his world, he'd never ask anyone else to be. He fell silent for a while, knowing that he had to broach something sooner or later. He'd been putting it off all day. "I..." God, but this was hard. He hated admitting vulnerability and this was definitely that. But he'd been talking as though he wasn't staying here, and he knew he couldn't - this place was as much a prison as the experiment had been and sooner or later, that'd filter through. But, more than that, he had limited food supplies down here. And what if they blocked off the exit again once they'd given everyone a chance to get out? He couldn't stay here. He didn't want to stay here. He just couldn't leave either. He knew all of that, he just didn't know what the fucking hell he was going to do about it. "You think the way out of here's permanent?" he asked, backing down from admitting his failings once again, edging round the subject.

She thought about her answer for a moment before giving it. "I think if they were going to take them away, they probably would have just moved people overnight. I think they want people to know the space is there, and that they can go there if they want. It kind of seems like they deliberately set up something kind of...nice." she said, looking around again, so she wasn't looking at him. Wasn't focusing her eyes on him, even if the rest of her was focused on him. "I like it down here. I like it better than my room." she told him honestly. "It feels like an escape." she admitted, voice a touch distant there. Then she shook herself out of it, blinking and looking back at him. "I think you have time. I don't think they'd just randomly take it away, at least, not for a while. Can't say they wouldn't ever, were down here for two days without it and were fine." she pointed out. She shrugged. "So it's a place you can deal with well."

But if they take it away and I still haven't been able to leave, it'll be a coffin all the same, Brett thought to himself - and then really wished he hadn't. It brought thoughts to the edges, if not into full view - of being trapped, of not being able to get out, of running out of food. They'd given him the chance to leave, if he didn't, why the hell would they keep him supplied? He knew there was a way out - he just couldn't take it. Wouldn't take it. He needed to take it. Or he'd end up stuck here, like he was stuck in the experiment because he couldn't take the tunnels. "What if they just wanted to see who would leave. Set up something people wanted, then see who would rather stay there."

"I think that's part of what they're doing." Eris said. "Who decides that whatever they set up is awesome enough to just stay there. I'm sure there'll be a few people who would want to." Just not her. What with the alone of it all. And it wasn't like she'd had any great sentimental attachment to anything there. Brett's environment was tailored to him. Hers...but then that brought up her questions about herself again. Like who she was now. There wasn't anything personalized or tailored to her because there wasn't a her anymore. or, not a her like there had been. She was still figuring out what the hell was going on with her now. Who she was.

"Makes me wonder what they're going to do then," Brett replied. "Call me paranoid, but - I could see them giving us a way out then, if we don't take it... I don't fucking trust them." Which wasn't really news, at the end of the day.

"Of course you don't. If you did...I'd be highly disappointed." Eris said, sighing. She sat back a little bit, leaning on her arms as she looked at him again. "I could think of worse places to get stuck. But...either way. You want to go back upstairs." she said, reading into things. "Will you ever come back down?" she asked. She thought that would probably depend wholly upon how capable he was of that elevator ride.

I don't know if I can get back up there in the first place, Brett thought to himself. "I think I should go up," he told her, looking down the path and growing cold just at the mere thought of what waited at the end.

She bit at her lower lip as she studied him. "That's up to you. This sanctuary's pretty nice. The world up there isn't offering much at the moment." she told him. Which was true. "I--" she started then paused. Then decided whatever, she'd started it so she might as well finish. "I'll go with you if you want." she said. She quirked a faint smile that didn't hold much humor. "I mean, I took the hit last time fine. And it'll be shorter." They'd been trapped in the church all day and night. The elevator would be a few minutes. Though she was willing to bet that to Brett it would feel like forever. And it was a much smaller space. "You're not allowed to bring any firearms though." she added.

He looked at her, not saying anything. He just didn't know if he could do it. At all. The idea of voluntarily wheeling himself into that tiny little box, allowing the doors to close... And that was without even thinking of what happened if there was a fault and they got stuck. He just didn't know whether he could do it.

She let the silence stretch out for a few moments, before she sat forward again, pushing herself to her feet once more. She stepped slightly closer, something that might just have been the result of her shifting her weight to the foot that was closer to him. "Brett, you don't have to do this right now." she said. "Or today. You could do it tomorrow, or the next day, or...whenever you wanted to. But you don't have to." she told him, just so that was out there. "And if you needed anything, I could get it to you. I...I wouldn't mind." It would give her an excuse. And she half wondered if that was some twisted motivating factor here. Like some deep remnant of her manipulative self, echoing back through her. A shred that still existed. She really hated thinking that. She didn't think that was it, but then again, she didn't trust herself. Not really. And because she didn't trust herself in those moments, she looked away.

"Stay here?" Brett asked, almost surprised. He'd expected, maybe hoped, that she'd encourage him to leave. Not to stay, not to be understanding, catering even. "I can't. I - I can't make myself a prisoner like that. I..." But he still didn't know if he could face that elevator car. but he couldn't stay here - she'd leave and he'd be down here, buried, alone, just waiting for his way out to disappear, that choice that was no choice at all taken away.

She nodded when he asked the first question, but didn't try to push the point of view as he continued. Prisoner. She'd thought about it in terms like that when she'd thought of her own room. But then it was a lot like a room she'd been shoved into and forgotten about for months, so she had issues there. This place just didn't feel like a room. Which probably was what made all the difference. "It's not going to be easy." she told him, wanting to be honest. "It's not a big elevator to begin with, and the ride will feel very long. It was a few minutes at least." she said.
Yeah she around now would have liked to have her meds so she could give him half an anxiety med again.

"I know it's not going to be fucking easy," he barked at her, taking his fear out on her, then wishing he hadn't. He rocked a little in his chair, his hands tightening on the rests before he caught that and stopped. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "You - you might have to force me to do this," he told her, eventually, looking over at her.

His anger there was actually almost welcome. It was familiar, something she'd dealt with before, and she also knew that it wasn't actually anything to do with her. It was because he really didn't want to face this. So, she could deal. And, with that last bit, she nodded. This? Wasn't going to be fun. But, she'd do it. "Do you want a drink?" she asked. "Anything to take the edge off?" Because that might help some. She didn't know. She also wanted to know what kind of timeframe he wanted to work on. Because she could wait it out for a while. Waiting it out was a fine idea in Eris-land.

Brett gave her a crooked smile at that. "Yeah, but don't really have much left," he admitted to her. He'd only had the one bottle down here with him, and he'd drunk most of that the other night. Sitting it out, waiting, was easier when he was getting himself drunk. Course, he'd paid for it the next day when the hangover had kicked in and he'd spent most of the day attempting to sleep it off.

Eris arched a brow at him, crossing her arms across her stomach. "You don't? What, you were drinking?" she asked. "How terribly unfair of you. Sure, I'm not allowed to drink--and I was a very good girl, you know--but you killed a bottle?" she quirked a half smile at him. "Bad Brett. But, fascinatingly enough, I could actually go get us more." she said. "And I'd be willing to and everything, just so long as I can sit by the fire when I get back again, and roast a marshmallow."

"Yes, I was drinking. And I don't have any marshmallows either," he added, though for all he knew there were some in the cupboards upstairs. He knew he hadn't fucking gone and got any from the store though, that was for sure. But there was the question of whether he wanted her to go get alcohol. It'd make things easier, he knew that much. Or, possibly, it might just make them worse. Maybe if he drunk enough to pass out, then she could just wheel him in and take him up. But, she'd have to go. Fucking pull yourself together you fucking idiot - it's not going to suddenly disappear behind her! he told himself. "But sure, if you wanted..." he made himself say.

She'd only really seen him drink the once, when they were both terribly depressed and plotting escape attempts. But she didn't ask about it. She didn't figure he'd tell her right now anyhow, and maybe she'd just save the question for when she returned. "I'll go get us alcohol and marshmallows then." she said. "Maybe chocolate. Any other requests while I'm out?" she asked, sitting on the grass again to put her socks and boots back on.

"Sledgehammer to the head?" Brett suggested, not adding the and don't be long, onto the end of that. Nothing had changed. Nothing had changed at all. He'd been down here before she turned up and just because she was leaving, that wasn't going to change things, that wasn't going to make him any more or less trapped down here. But he'd released those feelings, he'd acknowledged them, which meant that whilst he could deal before, they were pressing in on him now, closer and closer, making him feel even more bound and trapped.

"I could probably invent a drink and call it that." she told him, having the terrible urge to reach out and ruffle his hair a moment. So, it was a good job that she was sitting down and nowhere in reach. Because he'd hate that. Plus she just didn't do little things like that. He'd think she was insane. She thought so. She didn't even know where it came from. She laced her boots up tight and dreaded going back out into the snow. Then she stood and pulled her jacket on. "What's your poison, anyways?" If she was going out, she may as well get him something he liked.

"There's probably one called something like that already - I don't know, was never a big one for cocktails. And I'll have Jack if you can find a bottle. There was one in the kitchen at one point," he told her, wondering what state the town was in now. "Other than that anything that's strong enough to qualify as 'liquor' will do for me." He wasn't going to be fussy, if the intention was to get falldown drunk.

"Jack. Noted." she said firmly, nodding. then she drew in a breath, and let it out for a moment, eyes on him. "I'll be back." she promised. What she didn't do was ask if he was going to be okay. Or promise that she wouldn't be gone for long. She was still debating her meds, half a pill. That wouldn't really harm him, right? Just a little bit mixed in with the bottle? And this time he was going to be going for drunk, so it wasn't like she had to hide it well enough that he wouldn't notice it. He hadn't noticed the first time. She'd have to think about it on her way to get a bottle. She again resisted a little weird urge to touch him in some manner, though knew the root of it this time would be purely to be reassuring. That just didn't fly with Brett. He avoided contact. So reassuring wouldn't really happen there. Annoyance, maybe, but not reassurance.

Brett looked at her, then looked away. "I'll build up the fire again," he told her, crushing the urge to reach out for her, which he knew was just an add on to his rising fear of being left here, of her not coming back, which he'd already acknowledged was completely fucking irrational, so he wasn't going to cater to that.

"You better, or I'll be pissed. And pissed, freezing and wet isn't a good combination for me." she said. She stayed there a heartbeat longer, just looking at him, then she turned, to head back towards the elevator. Or where she thought the elevator was. Jack, and maybe just a little bit of one of her anxiety meds. And she'd need to not be drinking much. Not if she was going to be dealing with a drunk Brett. And one she may need to move around the hard way, at that. Well at least she had her plan. She thought there was a bottle of jack in her princess room. And her meds would be there. Which...she should probably take, too, but she didn't think she would. They still kind of scared her. Hitting the call button, she drew in a breath and looked back the way she'd come, wondering if he was gone yet.

He wasn't - he'd turned to watch her go, though the moment he realised she was looking to see if he was there or not, he turned and headed back off down the path, knowing she'd caught him there.

She was a little surprised, but figured he might be trying to get some kind of a glimpse of the elevator car when it arrived. But then maybe not, she didn't know. Either way, she watched him disappear again, and when the elevator finally got there, she got into it, hit the button, and tried to time the journey--which was absolutely bloody impossible without any kind of measure of time. so, she just kept realizing that it was one long ass elevator ride. Most took what...under a minute? Tops? So yeah this was weird. When she got upstairs again, she didn't waste time, she just headed right back the way she'd come in the first place, going back to the stupid little house she'd had, then taking another stupidly long elevator ride. Lucky for her, she was right, there had been a bottle of Jack, and she grabbed that, walking over to her meds. After hesitating a little, she uncapped the bottle, and shaved half an anxiety med into it, recapping it and turning the bottle over and over to mix it--even if it had dissolved fairly quickly anyhow. There was more liquid in the bottle than there had been in the water bottle she'd drugged. And she didn't figure he'd drink this whole thing down or anything. Especially if what she'd put in there worked how it was meant to. Then, after grabbing herself a bag and a change of clothes, she headed back, not actually going to find marshmallows. She'd do it another time. She'd have to remember where the store was to even do that right now, and she didn't feel like doing that, or wandering, lost. She didn't want to leave him down there for too long by himself.

As it was, it seemed like an eternity to Brett. Adding wood to the fire and stoking it up really didn't take very long, and then it was just a matter of waiting. He'd assumed that she'd only be going up to the surface, going to get whatever she could find in his house, which, of course, once she was gone longer than ten minutes meant that he really started to panic about how long that fucking elevator ride was going to be, imagining all sorts of horrors of being trapped in a small box for that long. he'd ended up sitting, staring into the flames, throwing small bits of bark torn off one of the logs into the fire and watching as the pieces curled and burned.

Eventually she got back, chilled again, and she was glad that there was going to be a fire. Fire was good. Fire would thaw her out enough. She walked quickly down the path towards said fire, dropping her bag down and she crouched to unzip it, taking the bottle out and she walked over towards him to hold it out. "As promised." she said.

Brett took the bottle and uncapped it, taking a swig without going for a cup. He only had the one anyhow, she could use it if she wanted it. He felt the alcohol burn its way down his throat and hissed a little. "There's blankets, if you want them," he told her, nodding toward the lean to. He probably should have got them out for her - if she was going to lay out on the ground, she'd want blankets - but he just hadn't.

She glanced back towards it, and after she shrugged her jacket off, and crouched to untie her boots, she looked back to him. "Thank you." she said. "I'll need it anyways." Since she was changing. She'd already spent a while sitting around in dampish clothes, she didn't plan to again. And while she had changed in front of him without care previously in their time together...something about that right now seemed wrong. So, she didn't question the idea in her mind, and she just grabbed the bag up and headed towards the lean-to, opting to change in there.

He frowned a little as she headed off, wondering what she was doing. He wondered if she'd decided that whilst she was down here waiting for him to get drunk enough to handle, she was going to go bathe in the pool. He wouldn't blame her - he was hardly great company. Sure, she'd talked about lying by the fire, but maybe she'd decided that being away from him was better. He tipped his head back and chugged a couple of fingers from the bottle, which was way more than he knew was sensible in a single hit.

Eris was thinking to herself that the little space was kind of cozy seeming. Not something she would have minded at all. Definitely more comfortable than their tent-space had been. Shoving her dirty clothes back into the bag, she gathered up the blankets and wrapped them around her shoulders, heading back out towards the fire and Brett. Well, he'd definitely lit the fire up. She also glanced at the bottle and...if he was going to hit it that hard, and keep up that rate, that might be trouble. Still, she sat down, choosing to sit next to him, or near him, even as she laid down curled on her side towards the fire. She just happened to be turned enough so she could easily see him.

Brett looked down at her. He'd watched her walk back over, had actually been surprised to see her heading back to him and not towards the pool, where he'd convinced himself she'd be going. "You came back then," he said, not exactly kindly as he took another swig from the bottle. The first affects of the alcohol were starting to bite at the edges, that always happened with him when he drank this fast. He was a big man and had a damn good tolerance, but when he really threw it back, he felt it quickly.

She looked mildly confused at that. "Was I not meant to?" she asked, not sure what he was talking about there. "I told you I would be?" Since she'd given him the jack and everything. So yes, she felt like she was missing something. "...Brett, slow down." she said, wincing slightly as he drank more. She didn't really react to his tone, though. She was used to that.

"Figured you might take the opportunity to use the pool - you seemed to like that," he told her, ignoring her request for him to slow down. In fact, feeling perverse, he took another swig, though not as large as the others. He didn't want to chug so much down it made him throw up - that'd just set him back to square one in the 'getting drunk ' stakes.

"I'll do that when I don't have other things to be doing." Eris said. "I did like it. I think it's great, and probably feels lovely. theory it'll still be there another time. You told me I could use it whenever I wanted." she pointed out. "Unless you didn't mean that." She was trying to judge how much she was going to allow him to drink before she made an attempt to get the bottle back from him.

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. And, really, what else have you got to be doing right now than sitting here watching me get fucking drunk? Wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to do that," he said, feeling sorry for himself and letting that out as the alcohol started to take hold. He was just fucking pathetic, he could understand if she didn't want to have to fucking deal with that. "You didn't bring marshmallows," he observed, that statement not actually connecting to anything else at all.

"I have important laying by the fire to do." Eris told him. "And sitting here watching you get drunk suits me fine. I didn't get marshmallows because I don't remember how to get to the store, and I didn't want to keep you waiting." she added on the end. "So I'll just have to make do with...sitting here by the fire watching you get drunk." she finished. "Unless you want to come over to the pool with me, and I can go in there and you can get drunk there. Choice is yours, really." she told him.
Brett took another hit and shook his head. "Here's fine," he told her - if he'd felt weird watching her just lying by the pool before, he definitely wasn't going to put himself in the situation where she was in the damn thing, that was for sure. "You were gone a long time," he pointed out, changing the subject.

"I had to run to my old place. I remembered there was a bottle of jack there. Plus I wanted to change my clothes to something dry when I got back." she explained. "I didn't mean to be gone long." she told him, keeping a careful eye on that bottle, even if she didn't look like she was. She shifted onto her back, and curled her arm beneath her head to pillow it, one knee propped up as she kept her gaze trained on him. She might have asked him if he'd missed her, but--not right now. There would be nothing but bad if she said that.

He nodded a little - then wished he hadn't as the world swam slightly. He tucked the bottle down by his side, giving it a break for a moment or two until his system had had time to get used to it. "Wondered - fucking long elevator ride," he told her, looking at her, then raising his eyes to look into the fire again.

"It'd say it's about five." she said, purely guessing there. But it felt like five. It just felt long. Way long for an elevator ride, and she was thinking that was physically impossible. So they had to be moving it really really slowly or...something. That was her theory. "So...five minutes and you'll be back upstairs when we leave." she said, not putting any kind of time limit on that. She'd get to forcing him when she got to it, not right now. She needed to wait for that shit to kick in a little better. "Which we're not talking about right now. Got any questions?" she asked him. "I got questions the other day. Seems only fair to reciprocate." Which was purely a tactic to try and distract his attention from focusing in on what was to come.
Five minutes: that seemed like an eternity to him. Five whole long minutes. He closed his eyes, his fist closing around the neck of the bottle again, though he didn't lift it to his lips. He took a minute, counting his heartbeats, counting out the seconds towards just one minute before he opened his eyes again. "I think you still had one," he told her.

"I do." she said. Though she was surprised that he was bringing it up. She kind of thought that he wouldn't. Hell, he'd even mentioned that she was more likely to get an answer then than any other time. "Mine can wait. It's my last one, I have to make it good." she told him. "I was asking if you had any questions." she continued, eyes not wavering from his. She could see the fire shine in them, just that brighter edge between his lids. "If you don't have any for me, then okay." And he might not. He might not want to know anything about her.

The alcohol was really hitting now, in that good way it did before the serious drunkenness set in, before control started to really slip dangerously, but nothing seemed as tight any more. "Maybe I don't want you to make it good," he suggested, looking back over towards her out of the corner of his eye. "And questions about you? I never like the answers." He looked back towards the fire. "You never seem to like the answers." That part was linked in with why he didn't like them as well.

"Doesn't have to be about me." Eris pointed out gently. She wasn't going to argue with him about the being unhappy with the answers thing. And she wasn't going to explain herself about her question. In truth, she had a lot of questions she could ask him. They were just questions she didn't think he would answer, and even if he did, she didn't want the answers. So...she was being intelligent enough not to put herself into that position. "I just said if you've got any, fire away. If you don't, that's alright."

Brett fell silent for a while, not responding to that at all, just watching the fire dance, the patterns there leaving imprints on his vision as it moved. "You don't seem like an outdoor type of person," he said, eventually, not necessarily posing it as a question, just a statement that she could either pick up to discuss, or not. Her choice.

That actually made her smile a little. There was an amused edge behind it. Of course, he had to take that and be difficult, even if it was just not bothering to ask a simple question, but putting it like that. "I wasn't." she told him. "I never really had much to do with nature, I didn't really grow up anywhere where I had to unless it was specific, and let's just say mommy and daddy never were the camping types." she continued. "I like it now, though. I like this. I like laying here and reaching out where I can feel the grass. Honestly? I'd be happy here for a while." she told him, glancing around briefly before she let her gaze rest on him again.

"It's not real, you know," he reminded her. He looked up, where the 'sky' was beginning to slowly turn darker, though true night was a way off yet. "It's a good fake, but it's not real. There's even fucking stars at night." They'd got the constellations right as well - same as they were outside here. He'd appreciated that, the small touches. They'd helped. Like there was a breeze. And birdsong. The trees rustled from time to time. Someone had really put effort into the little things, but it was still a cage.

"I know. But it's a taste. And right now I'd take that." she admitted. "I missed summer. Everett paid me his visit when it was still winter outside. And then I didn't get let out again til now." She paused for a moment, then smiled. "So about all the summer I really got was that rainstorm with you." Which she'd appreciated. She still appreciated it.

"That'd make two of us then - been inside since January, remember?" he reminded her. "I didn't even get to see outside between the plane and the experiment. Left the airport in the US, next thing I knew, I was in a bunker underground." And that had been that - the rest was history, like all of his life. But he remembered the thunderstorm - he loved the rain.

She nodded. "You win." she told him, not unkindly. More just a true acknowledgement. "So we both missed out." She shifted slightly, letting her knee fall a little, her foot tilting to the side enough that she could trace little lines on the bottom of it. She was thinking back to the day or so before she'd been 'killed'. "But since then I've gained an appreciation for simple things. And that's one of them. Especially after believing for a long time that I was going to rot in my little princess room. So I liked being outside. And I know this isn't real, but it feels real enough. I wonder if it would ever rain in here. You'd think it would have to, to keep all the plant life alive." she mused.

"Or they have an underground water system, drip-feeding the earth," Brett pointed out, casually and absently tracing a finger in circles around the mouth of the bottle, which was still tucked in down by his side. "I'd more wonder that, if we're in god knows where Russia, how hard it was to build shit down here - maybe we're not far enough north for permafrost or whatever it is they call it. Where the earth doesn't ever really defrost. And why, if they've made these places just for us, why did they make the town like something out of the 50s? I thought that it was an old town or something, but if this is here, surely the town's new - unless when they built the town, they built every house with its own nuclear bunker or something and this is just one hell of a redecoration effort. And if each one's tailored to someone, if we broke into the other houses, would we find one of these for each and every person who was ever in any of the experiments?" he asked her. Oh yeah, the alcohol had really hit home now. He wasn't sounding drunk, not slurring his words or anything, but he was talking, his lips successfully loosened.

Eris noticed that he was talking. Excessively, for him. She merely listened, ticking her nails back and forth over the little scars on the sole of her foot. "I like the idea of rain a lot better." she said, little smile on her lips. "And I would say that they built it. Seems impossible for them not to have. Even if they did build the houses with their own little bomb shelters, I don't think they would have been so deep, or as sophisticated. I figured they did the fifties thing just to fuck with everyone's head. The whole golden age thing, where everything was nice, and shiny and your neighbors were polite, god fearing people, who didn't randomly murder the woman next door. And maybe. I wonder if I'm going to find an elevator in the vicarage." she said.

"Would you want to take it if you did? As fucked up as that place looked?" he asked her, still tracing the mouth of the bottle as he watched her. He had a nice buzz going at the moment. It wouldn't be enough, if it came down to it - he needed to drink more, but he was enjoying the warm glow feeling, like nothing really mattered all that much right now. He was far more relaxed than he was used to being, like the world was a softer place.

She gave a little rueful half smile. "It would bother the shit out of me to not know." she admitted. "I can't say I would be perfectly happy going to check, or that I wouldn't be waiting for some silent hill shit when the doors opened, but...I'd have to see." She stopped the tracing thing for a moment, eyes still on him. "If you can't find me, it could very well be because the place has an elevator and a room, and it ate me. Would you want me to tell you before I went?" she asked. She wouldn't ask him to go with her, even if she would really, really want him to go. It was going to be hard enough getting him out of here, she wouldn't ever ask him to even try to go into an elevator in that house. Fuck, she never even expected him to go into the kitchen.
"Silent hill shit?" Brett asked, not getting the reference. He didn't sound overly concerned though, he could guess. "And yeah, I'd wanna know - be fucking pissed if you just disappeared on me. So - don't go doing that."

"Yeah, it was a game, and a movie..." she started, but trailed off. Then she just looked at him for a few long moments before she sat up. She shifted closer, even though she'd chosen to position herself close to him to begin with, and she set her gaze to his. "If I ever disappear on you, it won't be because I wanted to." she told him. He could fill in the blank there. It would be some outside influence. Something beyond her control. "So if there's an elevator...I'll let you know before I check it out."

"Never really much into games and movies," Brett told her, lifting the bottle again slightly, into his lap, but no further. He looked down at her, noting that she'd moved. "You're far too curious for your own good, you know. You can't just leave things alone ever, can you? Bet you're the kind of person who'd push the big red button, just to see if it really does make everything go bang."

"I don't have anything else." she said, the confession completely random, she didn't think about it at all before it was just there. Out. It was true, she just didn't know if she'd thought about it that way before. So there was a flicker of uncertainty behind her eyes, over her expression, even if she didn't look away from him.

"Just curiosity, or just games and movies?" he asked her, taking a sip from the bottle and offering it to her. He knew the answer, and had he been sober, he wouldn't have even considered asking the question, but then again, there was a lot he wouldn't do if he was sober.

"Curiosity." she answered, knowing he knew that. "I never really wanted for anything, but nothing really held my interest, either. I think that's one of the only things that's really carried over. Between then and now. At least with you. Sometimes I think I know how you work? And other times..." she gave a light touch of a smile that didn't last. "I can't figure you out at all." But he held her attention. She wanted to know. She wanted to know what made him tick. How he worked. She wanted to know everything, really. "Everything else is just details. And I can appreciate the little things, but mostly that's because I figure it can go away at any moment."

"I'm not an elevator that might lead to a bad place though," he told her, taking another sip, before adding, "Or a big red button. But you know me better than most people do. Not that that's saying much. I don't want to be known. Is that why you want to know? Because I didn't want you to? Do things you're not meant to look at interest you more? Like knowing where the elevator goes, or what's under the eyepatch?" he asked her, referring back to that doll. "What's on the cards?"

She gave his questions thought. Because if he was bothering to ask, and she finally took the bottle and took a drink of it, holding it down against her knee. "I know you don't like to be known." she said. "And I know you're not an elevator that might lead to a bad place. It's...different. With that, I just would need to know what's in the same space, what's connected in. I don't care what the elevators that may or may not exist in the rest of the town lead to. I just would there. I'd need to know. So one day it doesn't suddenly come up, and something or someone comes through and they were there the whole time. If there are horrors beneath me, I'd rather know what they are." she told him. "And I was meant to look at the cards, at the doll." She knew that. It was like he'd said before. They did it because she reacted. "I want to know you because I don't understand you. And sometimes I think I do, and other times I think I'm wrong about everything. Most people I can understand well. I understand Everett. I know why he killed me. I know who he is. He's a monster who wants to play the hero part. It just doesn't work so well for him. Because he doesn't have those hero instincts. It's like trying to do good when all you have to work with is broken glass and razorblades. You can't do good if all you've got in the back of your mind is shadows. That's him. He still wants it though. To be a better person. He wants--" she stopped there. Thank god she did, because he would not deal well with where that sentence ended.

"He wants what?" Brett asked her, since she'd broken off mid-sentence. And because talking about Everett was better than talking about himself and whether she understood him or not. he knew she saw more of him than he was oft-times comfortable with, that she was a hell of a lot more observant that he'd like. He was actually more surprised to hear her say that sometimes she thought she didn't understand him than he was to hear her say that sometimes she thought she did.

He wants to be you. Or who you used to be. I think he's still there. Or part of him is. You said it earlier, didn't you. You wanted to be there. So that's what it is, sweetheart. He wants to be you. someone who had the right tools to start with. "He wants to be a hero." she said. "He wants to be someone who can see the world for a place where good things can happen. Where he can save people. Unfortunately for him...the only way he could think of to save people? Was by murdering me. He brought me scotch, you know. Had a drink with me. Said he had a solution to it all. I didn't know he'd drugged it." She took another drink. Like Brett didn't know she'd drugged him. She didn't have the right tools either. She was the girl with a psyche like a box of broken glass.

"Being a hero isn't ever really very heroic," Brett told her, reaching for the bottle again. "In reality, there's no such thing. Doesn't exist. Right thing to do, wrong thing to do - end of the day, it's just luck of the draw and looking back on shit. Nothing more than that," he told her, shaking his head. He really wanted that bottle back.

She hesitated on giving it to him, then took a long, deep pull on it before she gave it back, aware of what she was doing there. But if there was less for him to drink... She kept her eyes up on his, feeling hot from the fire on her left side. She should move, but she didn't. She didn't especially want to. "I'm sure people were happy I was dead. I know some were. But I'm sure most everyone there was pleased. I guess that makes him a hero for them." she said. "Champion of the people. Ding, dong, the witch is dead." She shook her head a touch, though. "I don't really believe that. I think reality is based on perception. Things are true because people want them to be, things exist because that's how they're viewed. The monster under the bed is real to children. And there are people in this world who remember your name. And you can't tell me that some of them don't raise a glass to you, their personal savior." She was silent for a heartbeat. "It isn't about luck of the draw, or it wasn't for you. It wasn't happenstance that you came across people when they needed someone. You chose what you did. You set out in life to do that. That's not luck, or just looking back on things."

"They don't have to live your life," Brett told her in response. "When you get right down to it, it doesn't fucking matter what other people think, how they see you - you're the only person who has to life your life. So fuck perception," he said, gesturing with the word. "It means dick. Who fucking cares what some fucking moron thinks when he pours himself a glass with his friends. It doesn't fucking matter to you, not in any real way. The reality is what really fucking happened, not what other people think happened. A kid can fucking think that a monster under the bed is real, but it's not gonna crawl out in the middle of the night and eat it all up based on fear. And someone can think someone else saved them all they wanted, but that's just simplifying something that's not that fucking simple and never will be. It's like putting someone on a fucking pedestal - it takes away the reality of who someone is. Nobody's a hero. And if someone says they are, then their ego's too fucking big, or they're lying to you. And if there are people out there who think someone's a hero for murdering someone, then I don't want to know them. There is no final fucking solution. And nobody has the right to play god. Fuck that," he finished, taking mouthfuls between sentences until there was at least half a bottle gone and he was feeling the effects like he'd been hit with a load of bricks. And moreso that usual, but he put that down to the speed with which he'd been knocking it back.

"You don't want to be viewed like that, so you don't want to give it any power." Eris said. "That doesn't mean it's not valid. Just because you don't want to hear it, or think about people labeling you like that doesn't mean it invalidates what they think, what they feel. And there's a difference between you, and the monster under the bed. You're here. You've done things. Like I said--perception. To them? Heroes exist. Because they met you at some point." She drew in a breath, and reached out for the bottle, gripping it, hand beneath his on the glass, though she didn't try to take it, she wanted him to let go first. "It also depends on what your definition of hero entails. If you've got some idealized version or you can understand that they're people who've just gone above and beyond, not superhuman or perfect."

"But what they think doesn't make any difference to reality. Doesn't change my life. And I'm not interested in being some, what? Beacon of fucking hope or some shit, in their's. That's an illusion." And if they could see me now, they'd be at the front of the pity queue. See how far he's fucking fallen. What a fucking shame Brett thought to himself, knew that's how it'd go. Just knew. And he didn't want that. He didn't let go of the bottle either, though he made no attempts to pull it to himself.

"Depends on your view of reality, is what I'm saying. Your life and your perspective isn't the end all of the world. So, you can say that there's no such thing as heroes, but that doesn't change that most of the world would say there are. And you'd fall into that category." Eris said. "I don't know if you'd be termed as a beacon of hope. Just...responsible for certain people still remaining on the planet. You've got to try a lot harder to be a beacon of hope. That takes work. And public speaking." She kept her hand on the bottle too, not moving it, not necessarily trying to take it. It just stayed there, something she was aware of, and she wondered if he was.

Brett shook his head. "Not what I'm saying, Princess. Honestly, I don't give a fuck what people want to think in their lives, but if Everett's looking to be a hero, I'm saying there's no such thing. People might believe there are, might even point fingers to people they think qualify, but the reality of being that person? It's not heroic. Other people put a label on you - I don't want that label. Especially not now." Especially not now that he couldn't be that anymore, when people would look at the label and just see the waste of a life. It was why he didn't talk about what he used to do, how he'd ended up like this. He didn't want to see that pity in their eyes. They could all just fuck off and leave him alone.

She wondered if he had before. But, she didn't ask. She was sort of aware that anything she termed to him as a question could be considered her final question, so she wasn't going to waste it. She didn't say anything further, just looking up at him, watching his eyes, thumb brushing back and forth lightly against the glass of the bottle, just below his hand.

"He's looking to be something that doesn't exist, except in the minds of others," Brett carried on when she didn't say anything. "You want to be a person who see the world as somewhere where good things can happen? You want to be the person who was rescued, not the one doing the rescuing. You're doing the rescuing? Then you just get to see a world where people do fucking stupid damn things. And they do them over and fucking over again. You see a world full of stupidity and carelessness and badness. Pain and death. He's looking for a myth." He finally tugged at the bottle, needing another drink, aware still that she'd been holding onto it too.

She let it slide from her grip, thinking over what he said, watching his eyes. She almost rested her hand against his knee when he had the bottle again, but in the end didn't, she set it back down in her lap. "So if the world was full of stupid people, who simply repeat the same mistakes over and over..." she started. "Why would anyone continue on with a path chosen to continually pull them out of the fire? If it's all pointless, and all that gets seen of humanity is stupidity, carelessness and badness." Since that was how he'd termed it. She didn't think she could argue the point, it was largely how she viewed the human race. At the very least as a stupid species. Humanity was essentially a diseased kind of community. All of it, in one way or another.

Brett took a long draw on the bottle, exhaling sharply as he dropped it back down to his lap, within her easy reach should she want it. He looked down at her, licking a stray drop from the edge of his mouth. "Because the world is full of stupid fuckers, present company not excepted," he told her. It was easier, in retrospect, to decide that he should never have done what he did, that he was a fool for thinking it was worthwhile, for giving up everything he did. For loving it.

She did reach up to take the bottle this time, knocking back a good amount. It wasn't making her stomach overly happy and burned her throat, but he didn't seem to be slowing down. She kept the bottle in her lap, sort of half tilted back against her thigh, fingers wrapped around it, fingernails scratching back and forth against the glass. "So we're all stupid, and the world is a horrible place?" she asked. "And no, that's not my question."

"Know it's not your question, Princess," Brett told her, starting to slur his words now, feeling increasingly disconnected from everything. "And yeah - stupid and horrible, that's just the way it goes," he nodded, then shook his head. "Bullshit."

She could hear the slur in his words. She took another drink from the bottle, and then set it behind herself, though she didn't make the motion overly noticeable. She was feeling it a little herself. Warmth in on her skin...though she was still a little too hot on her left side. She shifted then, a little to her right, a little closer to him, though that might have been coincidence. "Don't you find anything in the world compelling anymore?" she asked, eyes back up on him. She sort of had the urge to prop her chin on the armrest of his chair, but figured that wouldn't go over very well.

He looked down at her, holding her eyes. An answer rose to his mind, right there in his currently fuzzy mind and he tilted his head to one side slightly as he continued to look at her. She was compelling - as much as he'd tried to avoid it, it was getting harder to deny that fact to himself. He couldn't deny it, as drunk as he was, not to himself, but he had that urge to stop denying it to her. Just that one word - except, look at him, a fucking cripple in a fucking wheelchair with nothing going for him and she'd look at him with that pity in her eyes - the one person who so far hadn't. The wave of self-disgust washed over him and he looked away, looking round for that bottle again. It had disappeared.

"I know something that you find compelling." Eris said, still watching him, even if he had looked away. She'd thought for a moment he was going to say something, and had almost stopped breathing, waiting for him to. But then, he didn't, which she should have expected in the first place. She also knew he was probably looking for the bottle, but she didn't help him with that. "You like lightning. And rain. Storms." she provided. "That's something."

There is was. Throw the dog a fucking bone. Offer up some kind of fucking platitude to make up for the fact his life was nothing. "Where's it gone?" he asked her, his words definitely slurred now. He sat forward in his chair, craning round, looking for the bottle, overbalancing forward a little and only just catching himself from falling.

When he started to fall, she automatically reached up, hand on his chest near his collar bone. "Hey...really not sure you need any more, sweetheart." she said, voice light. She pushed herself up on her knees, gently pushing back on his chest, and vaguely she was thinking this was the most contact she'd had with him. At least, physically. The only other time, really, was when he'd tended to her. When she'd scraped her leg at the abandoned house, and when he'd helped tend to the sores and blisters on her feet when they'd been traveling.

He pushed her hand away and leaned forward again. "Don't need you t'tell me when 've had enough, sweetheart," he said, roughly, still swaying. He caught sight of the bottle, out of reach and behind her. Fucking typical.

"No, you don't need me for anything." Eris said, though it wasn't pointed. She was agreeing with him. Except to make you get onto the elevator. "I'm expressing my opinion. You've had enough." she stood, though didn't actually move back from him at all, and while he'd pushed her hand away, she had one out near his shoulder. She was considering pushing him back, at the very least away from the fire. He'd...probably really hate her for that, but if he did happen to fall, she didn't want to risk anything of the sort.

"'M still here, aren't I? So - not enough and.. Just gimme the fucking bottle," he snapped at her, giving up on trying to push forwards and leaning back, dropping his hands to the wheel bars and shoving off, pushing the chair backwards, trying to manoeuvre around her instead. But he knew he wouldn't get there, clumsy, crippled fool, he couldn't get anywhere faster than she would could just turn round and move the bottle again. She was in control here and he was just nothing. Just a guy she was trying to get drunk so that she didn't get hurt getting him out of a place he was too fucking incapable to get out of himself. Like he didn't need her, as if he was at all capable of doing things for himself. He was useless, then he joined an experiment that just fucking made him worse.

"You're still here because I haven't said we have to go yet. It's not like you were ever going to volunteer and say 'okay, now's the time to get moving'." Eris pointed out, stepping back a little, and she actually purely accidentally tripped back over the bottle. It was something previously she would have done deliberately, but in this case, she hadn't thought to. She swore softly, and bent to right it, though there wasn't much left in the bottle now. Probably for the best. Eyeing it a moment, she held out what was left to him.

Brett grabbed it off her and downed what was left without pause. "Don't want to still be here - wanna drink u'til I fucking pass out. Easier all round, fucking easier," he slurred at her. He knew it was something he'd actually never managed to do though. He'd never found that end of his limit, he'd never been so drunk he'd passed out. Nearest he'd come was to have had so much that he just curled up and fell asleep, but even then he'd usually managed to get to something he could call a bed first.

She sure as hell couldn't carry him. Push him around, yes, but...yeah. She was already concerned, when he'd swayed forward and nearly fell. If he did that, and dropped down, she wasn't going to be able to help him. Not until he woke up again, and could get himself back up. Because she wouldn't go get help, even if Everett was a big enough guy to do so. Brett wouldn't ever want anyone to see him like this, and the only reason she was seeing it was because it was currently necessary. She stepped over to stand in front of him, looking down at him. She didn't say anything, just looked, considering.

"What?" Brett snapped, looking up at her. He didn't try and move away though, and he stopped, sitting back in his chair and just holding her eyes, belligerently, the empty bottle still gripped in his right hand.

"You haven't had enough to pass out. I'm not going to get you any more. You could try to sleep for a while, but I don't think that would help matters, and either way, when I tried to move you, you'd probably just wake up again. I'd try to calm you down, but I'm not very good at that to begin with, and you don't do anything you don't want to do. So I'm thinking about pushing you back there and going now." she said. The question of whether or not she'd get hurt in the process was a real concern. Unfortunately, she kind of thought in her current circumstances, that possibility fell under the heading of 'likely'. But oh well. She'd agreed to do this knowing that it was. She wasn't going to back down now. Besides. She'd probably had taken worse beatings. Probably. With a small enclosed space and a guy who could throw a punch and hit her with a ton of metal he was sitting on...yeah she just wasn't going to keep thinking along those lines. Didn't matter.

He didn't answer her for a long time and he felt as if he should have suddenly turned sober, but he didn't - he still felt all disconnected from everything. "Can push m'self," he told her, eventually, dropping the empty bottle to the floor. "An' need to put out the fire - can't leave it here. Might burn everything down."

"I can come back down and put it out." she told him. You're stalling. And she also thought if he could push himself, if it was just that easy, then he wouldn't need her there. She didn’t' figure that was the case. She leaned slightly forward, resting her hands down on the armrests of is chair. "Time to go." she said, voice light.

He shook his head. "No - no way. Not leaving it. Can't leave it. Fire starts and whoosh, everything goes up and we're in that thing and - no, not leaving it," he told her, stubbornly, sitting up straight in his chair, holding her eyes.

"You're stalling." she said. But she also straightened, and looked around for a bucket, or something else she could use to douse the fire quickly and efficiently, so that he wouldn't have the excuse to hold onto. She spotted one, and walked over to it, picking it up. "I'll be right back." she said, turning in the direction she thought the spring was in. If not, she'd know soon enough because she wouldn't be able to hear the water, but she hoped it was the right decision. Moving fairly quickly though made her head a little woozy, and her stomach unhappy. She shouldn't have drank what she did even if it hadn't been that much.

"Not fucking stalling," Brett called after her in a loud voice. He'd decided he wasn't - the fear was real enough. And everyone knew you didn't leave a fire unattended. Especially him. That had been the paying part of his life, after all. Dealing with fires. Except, he realised, she didn't know that bit.

She ignored him and found the pool fast enough. Helpful, being able to listen for it and all. She dipped the bucket into the water, and pulled it out, wishing again she had time to actually soak in it. She'd feel better. But it wouldn't help Brett, and that was what she was doing for the moment. Coming back over, she quietly started to douse the flames, her eyes left with bright trails of afterimages considering she'd been looking into the flames, and it was kind of darker than she'd thought it was out there. In there. Inside, she was inside. right. She set the bucket down and blinked for a few long moments, trying to get her vision back to normal. "Is there anything else?" she asked, voice light.

"My things," he told her, starting to move towards the couple of bags that had been left at the edge of the clearing nearest the path to the elevator earlier on. The world swam though and he stopped. "I need my things." He pointed a wavery finger instead.

A frown flickered over her expression, and she walked over towards him, half reaching out but then stopping, thankfully doing it while she was still mostly behind him. "Are you okay?" she asked, voice soft. She'd go get his things, and she'd bring them and put them in the elevator for him. But first she wanted an answer to that. She was guessing 'no'. Worry crept into her system, about what she'd done with the pill and the alcohol, and...what if it had been too much?

He shook himself, then his head. "S't drun'," he told her, looking up at her, his vision blurring. He blinked, trying to clear that, but it wasn't working too well for him. "Fire all out? You get all of it? Gotta get all of it - even the little bits," he advised her, swaying very slightly.

Okay yeah she needed to get him upstairs. Like...nowish. "It's out, Brett." she told him gently. "I got it all, I promise." she said, and looked back to be sure, but she didn't see any glowing embers. She started forward to grab his bags, because if she didn't, she was going to complete that whole reaching out for him thing. "I'll just put these inside." she told him, totally unnecessarily since he could see her just fine. She started to head that way, wondering if he really was going to get himself over there, or if she was going to have to come back for him.

He tried, but it was slow going as he pushed himself across the grass, being that every second or third time he pushed down with his arms, he swayed forward and almost fell out of the chair, which even he in his current state knew was a bad, bad idea. He wouldn't be able to get himself back up again when he was like this - and she'd have to see him sprawled across the place. "S'why I don' drink," he muttered to himself as he stopped for a breather.

Eris got to the elevator, and dropped the bags inside after pushing the button to open the doors. She was getting more nervous. Anxiety was hitting in the back of her mind, even as she still felt sick. Right. Well, she was doing this. Looking back, she saw him taking his break, and she walked back over. She got behind him, and like she had the day in the house when he'd had the really crappy rusty wheelchair, she started to push him, not asking first, just doing it. And she waited. Because he was going to fight her--she knew he was, it was just a matter of when.

He gave up and let her push him once he'd almost fallen again trying to help her with that. He swayed back in his chair, hands on the armrests. He didn't feel too good right now, his vision swimming as they approached the open elevator. He didn't say a word to her as his gaze fixed on that, watching as the blurry image came closer and closer.

She was tense. She kept waiting for it to happen, kept waiting for him to do something. What, she wasn't sure. But she got them there, didn't rush things, but kept moving steadily there. She didn't want to go too slowly and drag it out or anything, so it was an even pace. She didn't try to stop before going in, either, not wanting to give him that 'are you ready' moment. She just wanted to get inside and get the button pushed as quickly as she could manage.

It was when he entered the elevator that things really started to hit and Brett gripped the rests of his chair, his knuckles white as he stopped himself from just reaching out to either side and bracing himself so she couldn't get him in. He was stronger than she was. At least, he thought he was, but then again, he wasn't feeling great right now, so maybe he wasn't. But still, he gripped his chair, his heart racing, breathing coming faster as sweat broke out on his forehead.

She got him in, having expected him to try and stop her from getting him into the car, and was weirdly proud of him that he didn't. She hit the button immediately, staying behind him, eyes down on him as the doors slid quietly shut behind her, and there was that little tug in the stomach as the elevator started to rise. Her attention was raptly on him, and she even slowed her breathing unconsciously as she waited.

He cracked and pushed the chair back as the doors slid closed - but of course, by then it was too late. "I can't do this," he muttered, under his breath, then repeated it, louder this time. "Can't do this!" The walls were closing in on him, everything was shrinking they were never going to get out of this, it was all going to go wrong, there was no oxygen, he couldn't breathe. Brett started to hyperventilate, panic hitting him full force.

Eris really had expected this, but it still sucked when she got pushed back against the elevator doors, squished by his chair. It didn't entirely knock the wind out of her, but it wasn't pretty, and since she also didn't have room to go anywhere else, she wound up reflexively leaning forward, hand on his shoulder to catch herself a little as she was trapped. And uncomfortably so. "Brett--" she started, trying to push him forward just enough so she could stop being squished. This elevator really was too fucking small. There wasn't really anywhere else for her to go, unless she wanted to crawl onto his lap or something. That would go over well.

Brett wasn't listening to her, trapped in his panic attack, though it did mean that he didn't try and fight her moving his chair forward either. He'd let go of the wheels when he'd realised that this was, in fact, his worst nightmare realised and he was trapped in a small box, small enough that he could touch every side from where he was. After that, things had fallen apart quickly and he could feel the oxygen draining from the air - or he imagined he could. It felt like it was getting hotter, there was no air, he needed to get out of here but there was no way out. He shoved her hand off him - everything was too close, far too close.

She didn't try touching him again, gripping the hand grips on the back of his chair instead, and she braced herself back against the doors. This was going to be a long time. God, it was going to be a long time. "Brett, it's almost over." she said, pretty positive he wasn't listening to her in the slightest, but trying anyhow. "Okay? It's fine. And it'll all be finished in just a few minutes. I promise."

Brett pulled at the neck of his shirt, trying to get more air, sweat patches appearing on the material. His breathing was harsh and audible now and he could see nothing but stars - evidence to him that there wasn't any air in the car, rather than the fact that he wasn't getting enough due to his own hyperventilation.

She reached out again, figuring this was going to end badly. But she did so, hand on his shoulder, and she leaned around him a little, though it was awkward in the space. "Brett, can you hear me?" she asked, reaching out a little to attempt to turn his face towards hers--but yeah, she was just expecting this to go very poorly.

"Get off me!" he shouted, gasping air in, the exclamation lacking power, not seeing her really, just reacting as he lashed out, catching her arm in his hand and pulling it away from his face, forward, not appreciating that she was actually positioned behind him. His awareness of his surrounding was almost nil - other than the fact he was trapped.

Well, pulling her forward was kind of the opposite of getting her off of him. It pulled her forward, partially into the handgrip and over the back of his chair, which hey--didn't at all work. But hey at least it wasn't as if she was surprised. Just now kind of hurting. And in a bad position for him wanting her off of him and away. She just didn't have room to do much and she tried to slide out from behind him, and she just hoped he didn't shove the chair back again to get a full stomach full of hand grip. That would be really bad.

Brett started to struggle as she came over the chair a little and he felt her against his shoulder. He'd been trying to get her away, he didn't want to be touched - he wanted everything to stop closing in on him. The walls were getting closer. Closer and closer and he was never going to get out of here. He pushed at her again, trying to get her off and away, making incoherent exclamations.

She slapped a hand down on his arm rest, and tried to push herself up and over, which sort of only half worked and she wound up falling down onto the top of his bags. Which...hopefully didn't have anything too breakable inside, because she landed hard. She had to half wonder if it would just be worse for him if she wasn't here at all and had just pushed him in and hit the button, or if it didn't matter in the slightest either way. It wasn't like she thought he understood she was there and trying to be there for him. He looked completely lost. And she'd seen it last time it had taken him a while to get back to himself, and that had been after he'd shot out windows then ran out of bullets. Fuck, how much longer was this ride?

Brett's eyes were rimmed red as he shook her off and went back to pulling at the neck of his t-shirt until he ripped the fabric, tearing down an inch or two before he let it go, his chest heaving, his body shaking, but less now as he just waited for it to be over, sure that this was it, that he was going to die now.

She laid on her back across the bags, feet up on the wall of the elevator as she kept her eyes on him. Well, any idea she'd had that he might go back down there for some reason was shot all to hell. That was just...never going to happen. Absently, in the back of her mind, she was thinking that if she did find an elevator in the vicarage, and did take it down and got trapped down there, he sure as hell wouldn't ever go looking for her. She'd rot down there if she had to rely on him for it. It wasn't a bitter thought. she didn't resent the idea. It was just something for her to keep in mind. "Almost over." she said quietly.

He closed his eyes, exhausted, woozy, his chest heaving, but with less power behind it now. he just wanted it to be over. If this was it, he wanted to be done now. he just wanted to be done now.

She kept repeating that, that it was almost over until the elevator came to a stop, and the doors behind Brett opened. When it had slowed, she'd sat up, so when it opened, she just immediately pushed his chair back, falling a little forward off the bags awkwardly, but she got him out of the car. Back into his old house, and she drew in a deep breath, letting it out in a rush as she pushed herself up to prop her arm on the bottom of the car, relieved it was over.
He felt the change in the air more than anything as she pushed him back out of the elevator. It was cooler out here, there was room to breathe and he just sagged where he was. Normally, he would have headed straight outside, but he didn't feel like he had any energy left to move, and he head wouldn't stop spinning.

She just breathed for a moment, trying to orient herself, and feeling relief, still sort of sick, and a little sore in places. Then the doors started to slide shut again so she reached out to stop it, pushing his bags out first. Then she pushed herself to her feet, and stepped out into the room, making a circle behind him, where she went to open the nearest window. She did that, then went and opened up the living room door, and she started to push him over towards it, ignoring the cold. She just knew he'd want that, and even if he wasn't doing it himself, she figured it couldn't hurt to cater right now.

He almost sobbed as he felt the cold, fresh air hit him. his body temperature changed rapidly as the sheen of sweat chilled instantly, but he didn't give a damn right now - it was air, there was oxygen and that wave of relief that hit nearly knocked him once again. He let her push him, not fighting against that. He wanted to go faster, but he just didn't have the strength left to do anything for himself right now, not even to fight against someone doing something for him.

She got him to the door, then carefully over the stoop down onto the porch. There. He was out. She wasn't going to let him stay long, but he was out. She stepped back, because she hadn't actually changed for the cold, she still had bare feet, and...shit actually all of her stuff was still down there. Witness her not really wanting to go back down and get it. But she'd have to. It wasn't like she was staying. She gave him a minute, standing just inside the doorframe behind him, shoulder leaned against the door. "Better?" she asked quietly, almost wanting to reach out and brush her fingers through his hair, but she didn't.

He was cold now, but coming back to himself, and the shivering was honest and temperature related rather than panic-induced. The cold air also helped clear his head a little, though not entirely and the world remained soft-focus for now. He took a few long, deep breaths, then looked at her, his face drawn, the stubble on his chin emphasised by his red eyes and the hollow look there that he couldn't hide. He opened his mouth to speak, only to find he didn't know what to say right now.

She held his eyes when he looked back at her, and gave him the lightest little almost-smile. It wasn't quite there, it was something that was actually more a press of her lips together than anything. She looked a little tired. That had sucked a lot, but...well, they'd got him here. "Time for you to go inside and wash up?" she suggested lightly, bypassing any reaffirmations that he was up, he was out, and everything was fine. Or her part in that.

He knew he should. He was, no doubt, a mess and part of him hated that someone, anyone, saw him like this. But right now, it was too late for that. She'd seen and it was just a case of waiting for that reaction. he didn't have the energy right now to push her away before it came. He'd just have to ride it out. And as for the shower, he couldn't, not yet. His bathroom wasn't that big and whilst it was big enough to not send him into a panic in normal circumstances, right now he couldn't do it. And he needed his head to be clearer before he started shifting himself around anywhere where he could slip and fall in any event. "Need a little longer," he told her, looking away.

"Okay." she said, not pushing. She looked at his shirt, at him in general, and drew in a breath, letting it out slowly. She shivered, the cold sinking in fast. Then she turned, and headed into the house for a moment, hunting down an afghan on the back of the couch. She brought it out to him then dropped it over him because doing the sweating panic thing then doing the freeze your ass off thing just wasn't that awesome a combination. "Do you want me to leave you be?" she asked him, pretty much wanting to do whatever he needed right then.

"You don't have to go," he told her, wrapping the blanket around him without a word about it. Honestly, he'd really rather she stayed for a while - he still didn't feel entirely right and he figured that having someone else around for a while would be a good idea. He'd drunk far too much, far too quickly and it had hit him harder than it normally did.

She hadn't actually planned on leaving so much as giving him time. "Okay." she said, sticking a toe out to brush it through the snowfall that was on his porch. Her tracks were in it, his tracks were, but there was still untouched fluff. She pushed it back and forth lightly, looking down at it before she turned her eyes back up on him. "I'm not really dressed for leaving right now anyways." she said, giving him a faint little smile. She wanted to ask him if he wanted anything, or needed anything, but she didn't want him to snap back on her. To decide she was pitying him, or whatever it was he would decide. He'd find a way to make it something bad, anyways. Even if that wasn't what it was. She just...wanted to help, right now, because even if he didn't need it often, he did right now. He had today. And he wasn't going to need her anymore, for pretty much anything so...right. She wasn't examining it very closely. "My feet would get cold, I'd turn all blue. Wouldn't be pretty. Red is more my color."

He looked at her and frowned, before looking down and realising for the first time that she wasn't wearing anything on her feet. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath, before starting to turn himself round again, to head back inside. "Come on," he told her. "Let's get you in - you'll freeze out here." He'd freeze out here, he knew that, he just would have preferred that over being trapped indoors if it was just him.

She hesitated. Because really, she thought that he was right now a perfect recipe for getting himself sick. So she wanted him back inside, but she also didn't want him going back in before he was ready to. "You sure?" she asked. "I'm alright so far...I mean, I can't hang out here on the porch all night or anything, but a few minutes more won't kill me." she told him, going more for his mental health's wellbeing. The worst he would get was a cold or something, which wouldn't really be that bad, right? She'd just have to get him medicine, a lot of tissues, and probably some movies to kill time watching. Maybe a book or something.

"Open the windows, leave the door, I'll be fine," he told her, gruffy, pushing himself in towards the house, though she was standing in the doorway. The blanket slipped off his shoulders a little now he wasn't holding it in place and the end caught under one of his wheels. He stopped and pulled at it, trying to work it loose. "And put something on your feet before you get sick again," he told her, shooting her a look. "There's socks in the top drawer of the dresser in my room." Which was a big concession for him. He didn't let people in his room, he closely guarded his privacy, but standing barefoot in the snow she'd get sick again and that wasn't going to happen.

She would have reached out to help him with the blanket. Really she would have, but she knew that would go over badly. Especially with the tone of voice shift. So, she didn't, and anyhow, he would move and he'd be able to get it on his own. She also thought about telling him no, that she could just go back down to the magic forest land and get her own socks, even if they were wet, but opted out on that. She just remembered the whole room-thing, and how she wasn't really welcome there. No matter where his room happened to be. She'd even had the same twitch earlier. "Yes sir." she said, sighing slightly, though she didn't actually sound pissed about it. She just turned to head back into the house, and attempted to remember where his room was. Which...she thought was off down a hall, so she picked one to go looking down.

Brett watched her go, then went back to the blanket, getting it out from where it was stuck, then just bundling the whole damn thing up into his lap and getting back inside. He left the door open and, throwing the blanket back on the couch, began to open all of the windows, which wouldn't do much for the inside temperature, but it would make him feel a whole lot better.

Eris opened windows as she went as well, including the one in his room, even if she was thinking that she was going to need to shut them before she left--whenever that might be. When she did find his room, she thought to herself that it looked different in the light and such. She'd been in there before, but her state of mind at the time had been a hell of a lot more distressed as well. She found the socks, though, and sat on the end of the bed, thinking his room reminded her of a hotel room. Kind of...tidy but not lived in. Which didn't surprise her. Pulling them on, she wondered if she couldn't borrow a hoodie or something, if he had one. Then she went to the door. "Brett? Can I borrow a sweatshirt?" she called, not wanting to assume she could. She also wasn't going to tell him to shut the damn windows.

He didn't shout back, instead he headed down to the bedroom, not wanting her to go rifling through his drawers to find whatever she might need. Anyway, he needed to change himself - even if he wasn't going to shower just yet, he could put on clean and non-ripped clothes, that would help. "Sure," he told her as he made his way over to the dresser, only glancing at her. He took out a shirt and a couple of sweatshirts and held one out to her.

She walked over and took it. "Thank you." she said. Then she hesitated, before she pulled it on over her head, pulling her long hair back out, and she walked back towards the door, figuring he was going to change whatever he was going to do. Which meant he needed her not to be hovering. She was still worried about him possibly not being steady enough to do things, but didn't want him to know that either, so she sort of just...paused in the bathroom out of sight in the hall, and listened.

He decided that changing was something he could cope with. He was going to fucking cope with it. He still remembered far too clearly the days when he hadn't been able to manage it, when he'd had to suffer the indignity of a variety of usually pretty female nurses helping him with that. They were always fucking pretty - he'd decided early on that that shouldn't be allowed. Pretty people should not be fucking allowed to work with people who need help. It was like an extra level of indignity. He refused to go back to those days - he'd prefer to sit here in torn, sweaty, stinking clothes than ever accept help with something as simple of changing his shirt. And so he waited until she left the room before he started the fight where he couldn't quite get his mind round where the holes were, and got his head stuck. Usually he could do this without a second thought - it was his legs that were the issue, but even then he had things down to an art, he could take care of himself. But he was drunk and, unbeknownst to him, drugged as well, which made things definitely interesting. He managed it, though he knew it had taken him too long, and he was breathing heavily once again by the end of it, and feeling ashamed of himself, that something so simple should have been so hard. He dropped the ruined t-shirt into his lap and headed out to throw it in the trash, not looking for her, sure that she'd be wondering that that had taken him so damn long. In his head, she was laughing.

She was still in the bathroom, knowing it was taking him too long. She'd shut the door, so she could have the excuse that she wasn't feeling well, or whatever, fill in the blank, but she was just...listening. and she didn't hear any sharp thuds or anything, she was just...aware of time. And it stretched out for her, seeming even longer than it was in truth, because she knew it didn't generally take him this long. When they'd get up in the morning or whatever when they'd traveled, it wasn't as if it had taken him any real time to just get changed. So...she was in there beating herself up over having made the choices she had. She heard him go by...but didn't follow out right away. Mostly because she was fairly positive he would have decided that was suspicious. Because it was fucking suspicious. So she gave it another minute or two before she wandered out after him, remembering to flush the toilet as she did so, for effect.

Brett hadn't actually put that together, his self-recriminations turning him very insular for the time being. He was too busy deciding what her reaction would be, what she would be thinking, pouring bucket loads of negativity all over everything that there wasn't room for reality as he crossed to throw the shirt in the can under the sink. He sat up and leaned forward over the sink to throw a couple of handfuls of water over his face, washing off the sweat and trying to clear his head, but that latter just wasn't happening.

She followed the sounds, and leaned in the doorframe, not entering the kitchen. She was just...very weirdly aware of His Space. Even when she'd been downstairs, with the clearing, she'd hung back and she felt like that again. Like she didn't want to be intruding, even if he'd told her not ten minutes ago that she didn't have to leave. Of course, that was before they'd had another tempo change in the fucked up song that was their relationship. And while used to them, that didn't mean she knew exactly how to deal with them at any given time.

"Well - say something then," he told her, once she'd been standing there, watching him, for a few minutes. He didn't look round, but he didn't move either. He could easily imagine the expression on her face - he didn't need to see it. Didn't want to see it, not on her, not when he hadn't had to see it before. But he'd convinced himself it would be there now.

"I want to know how you're feeling." Eris said, not sure what she was going to say til she said it, because she felt on very unsteady ground. Mostly because of her own thoughts and feelings and twitchings on everything, and not much to do with his moodswings. "If you're okay. Because you don't really seem okay." she added. "And I'm wondering how long you're going to leave the windows open. Not that I'm planning on running to shut them or anything, just...I don't want you to get sick. I'm still kind of sick, it sucks, generally speaking."

Brett pushed away from the sink, shooting back a ways before turning himself round and going over to her, looking up at her, overly aware right now that he had to do that. That annoyed him so much all the time - that he was forever looking up at people. That constant reminder, if he needed another constant reminder. He was a tall guy, he'd always been a tall guy, and now everyone towered over him, even her, as small as she was. But he was even more aware right now of that. "You want to know how I'm feeling?" he bit at her. "Don't you know - can't you tell? How the fucking hell do you think I'm feeling? When I can't do fucking anything, useless piece of fucking shit. I know you've thought it - you've seen it, I can't do anything and I can't even live in fucking house without fucking freezing because I can't... I can't do it and I was fucking useless before and look at me now," he ranted at her.

Eris had expected him to get an attitude with her. When he came over closer, she almost had the internal twitch to step back, to protect herself, just in case he took a swing. Which--she didn't like that thought. She didn't like it on a lot of levels. Not that she'd think that about him knowing he wasn't the type to hit a girl, even if she had in fact, gotten hit by him before, and had again today in some respects. Her middle was tender around now. She didn't like what it said about her, either. Because it meant that she was waiting for it. Maybe it was in response to what had happened to her, what Everett had done, and it was just taking this long to really show itself to her so blatantly. Maybe it was because he had hit her before. She didn't know and she didn't know if she was capable of examining it either. And the third part of hating that--was that she understood that she had the momentary urge to step back but not leave. Which said something about her. It said she would be willing to take it, at least on some level from him. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. That was a lot of issues to be slammed with all at once, and so even if she already would have had to think about what he'd said before she answered, that made it even more difficult. So emotions flickered over her features as she looked down at him. She looked away, jaw setting and her posture changed, slid farther into defensively vulnerable, arms crossed over her stomach, hugging herself a touch. "You know, do you." she said, voice just that little bit too light. "You know what goes on in my head. You know that I've thought that?" She finally ticked her gaze back to his and they narrowed. "Say that to me again." she invited. "Say that to me again. And this time think back to the sentiment we parted company on when I was fucking od-ing."

That was before, he thought to himself. Before today, before she'd seen him like this - so much worse than he'd been in the church. Before she'd seen him be unable to move himself around, or cope with the simplest things. He'd expected her to have changed her mind on things since then. Proof of what he really was. But her tone took the edge off his anger, leaving him just with that deep well of self-pity, self-hatred. "That was before," he finally said, echoing his thoughts.

"And this is now, and until I start treating you like a fucking invalid who can't do shit? You do not get to project that shit onto me." Eris snapped, tone still too light, but there was that bite to it. "That is not fucking fair, Brett. You're having a bad day. I'm not going to randomly fucking reassess my entire opinion on you based on that. Because guess what, I have bad days too. Had one yesterday. Having one today, really. And oh yeah, there was the night where I did almost fucking kill myself because I am that fucked." she continued. "You're not useless, you're not incapable, and what the fuck ever--bad fucking day." She walked a few paces away, shaking her head and trying to decide if she wanted to try and dial back shit right now or if she'd rather just let it all loose.

That hit him hard, like a slap in the face, but it was a slap that jolted him out of the spiral he was in pretty damn effectively as he looked at her back. He didn't know what to say to that. Everything he'd been thinking was, apparently, wrong. He'd expected her to do just that - to change her opinion based on one day. He wouldn't have blamed her for it. He expected it, sooner or later. He'd been waiting for it.

She was silent for a long time, not looking back at him, and she walked farther away. "You know something?" she asked, voice quiet. She sounded tired then, and she was. She'd had a very emotionally exhausting few days, and this didn't help. "If you actually sit there, and think about it? Between the two of us?" She shook her head and leaned against the wall, eyes down on the floor. "Brett, you were just fine without me. You're good. You've got everything down, you know what your limitations are, you know what you can and can't do, and whatever it is you can't do--that doesn't fuck up your entire existence. I know you think it does, and I know you hate it. But you can live without help." she continued, reaching up to rub at her temple for a moment before she continued, dragging her fingers through her hair, letting it fall down to obscure her profile, though that wasn't by design. "I can't. Quite obviously, I can't. Maybe I'd make it for a while, but I'd fuck up badly enough eventually. I can't not take my medication. And I'm pretty sure a lot of it isn't exactly the type that you can pick up and put down and it doesn't put your system through hell. I feel like shit today, and I...I'm afraid to take them? I know I should, I know I have to, but after the other day, I just...I looked at the bottles and couldn't do it. And I can't remember properly to take them. I'd forget I had, or not know I'd forgotten. I need--" you. " of us is honestly dependent, helpless. It isn't you." She pushed off the wall, and walked further into the house, not even sure where she was headed.

He gave her a few minutes, and honestly, he needed that time himself. She was right, he knew that, except he hadn't been looking at a comparison scale. He'd been looking at an absolute. If there was a comparison to be made, it was him now against how he'd used to be. Not him compared to her. So, he left it for some time before going to find her.

She found her way towards the front door, where there was a little area to sit by that felt a little less exposed. And she knew it was childish of her, but she just...didn't know what else to do. She damn near had walked out the door, and left everything down in his forest of doom, and walked back to that hated little house in what she was wearing. In the end she didn't, and she couldn't have said why. She'd even had her hand on the doorknob. But she'd gotten in near the couch, and was almost sitting behind it, curled up against the wall with her shoulder in against it, under where the arm jutted out. She was sitting a lot like she had been down in that room, knees hugged to her chest, head down. She'd leave soon. Soon soon soon. She just needed a few minutes. And a lobotomy. There should be an ice pick in the kitchen, right?

He found her there, and had to wonder if she'd positioned herself there on purpose, where he couldn't get to her. Not that it mattered, but the thought was there. He looked at her for a few moments before saying anything, not sure at all what he was going to say before he started speaking. "I have days-" he told her, his voice tired, empty of any of his usual ire, and strangely soft for the lack thereof. "-when I can't even get myself out of bed in the morning. When I can't face the world. Most days I think it would have been better if I'd died in that accident, but some days I wonder if I just lay there long enough maybe it'd be over. Everything's a struggle. Every day. And yes, I learned to cope with the basics, with getting things done. But it's hard. Every. Single. Day. Every day's a bad fucking day - just sometimes they're worse." He could go on, he knew, there were other things he could say, he just wasn't sure if he wanted to tell her them.

She looked up at him as he spoke, paying attention. She hadn't walked away because she didn't want to speak to him, she'd walked away because she was dealing. She needed time where she wasn't just there with him. But...she was listening, wanting to know what he had to say. You've faced the world every day since you've been with me. she thought but didn't share, because she didn't like her wording, or the connotations that were put onto it, even if that wasn't what she meant by it. Still, she kept her eyes on his. And she had to think about what to say to that. Again, she sort of vaguely wondered why it was he wasn't suicidal. Or not at much as she could be. Because she knew it was there in her fucked up head. Lurking in the background somewhere. "So what do you do?" she asked. She felt like a child. She felt like she needed guidance like one. And it really wasn't fair to lay that on him. She didn't want to lay it on him. for a lot of different reasons.

I go through the motions, he thought to himself. "You know what I do - you've seen it. I just... carry on." And made life hard for everyone around him. He didn't mention that he had pills, for his depression, for the mood swings. He just didn't take them. Like he didn't take the pills for the pains in his legs or for anything else. They were there, he still had them, lined up in the back of the cabinet under the bathroom sink. He just never took them. That would just be one more thing he was reliant on.

She kept her eyes on his for a few moments, then looked down again. She nodded a slight bit. She did see that, so yes, she could agree that was what he did. It just left her feeling hollow. Carrying on. That wasn't something she thought was good enough. There were conflicting impulses in her system and she knew it. There were the suicidal sort of tendencies, alongside the ones that strove for survival. What had made her move into an abandoned home, and try to stay hidden there. What had made her go with him in the first place. What made her stay, because she didn't do so well on her own. In fact, she did remarkably poorly. In the few days before he'd found her again, when she'd thought everything was over, she'd done more or less nothing but drink. Lots and lots of alcohol, drowning out everything. The noise in her head that never quite made as much sense as it was meant to. Burying her face down against her knees for a moment, she drew in a deep, not terribly steady breath, and tried to let it out slowly. "I don't know if I can do this, Brett." she said, voice a muffled, small tone. It was an admission that she wanted to take back immediately, but she couldn't even move at that point. She just stayed curled up where she was.

Brett closed his eyes for a moment and tried to clear his head. He needed a clear head right now, but it was still all sorts of fuzzy. He didn't feel completely in control. Giving up on that after a moment, he opened his eyes again and reached down, shuffling the brakes on on his chair. The problem with being drunk, he knew, was that sometimes something which you knew to be a really bad fucking idea seemed like a good idea. And that tone in her voice, and the way she was sitting made it seem like a good idea as he pushed the footrests to the side and then braced himself and, using the strength in his upper body, lowered himself to the floor.

It wasn't a particularly graceful move, in fact, he dropped the last few inches and sprawled slightly before he started shuffling his way over to her, closing the distance to try and lean against the wall, hoping she'd do the kind thing and actually move over some so he could.

She heard him moving, though it took her a second to actually catch onto the fact that he was--he was down on the floor with her. Which surprised the living hell out of her. She looked up, confusion on her features as she watched him, and she did automatically move to make room. She didn't so much reach out to help him as she made sure there was enough space for him though it left her little room to go. And she knew moving away would entirely defeat the purpose here, it was just...they didn't really get close. And while she'd had the urges to from time to time--particularly today--she rather thought that was all in her head. That he just...never wanted to be anywhere near her. He was kind of the shining definitive example of 'standoffish'. Though...while she was shocked all to hell and back--she sure as hell wasn't going to push him away. And part of her really appreciated it, even if it left her wondering what was going to happen. If anything.

Everything today seemed to take far too much effort and he was breathing hard again as he leant back against the wall and rested for a moment before leaning forward again to properly position his legs. He didn't consciously consider it, but her comment about how she thought of him, that she didn't think he was incapable had hit home this time, had taken away that top layer of fear about her seeing him in positions where he wasn't entirely in control. Of course, the fact that he was drunk was also really helping there as well. That done, he rested back against the wall again, looking over at her. "You can do this, Princess - you have to," he told her.

She looked at him, thinking it felt strange that he was right there next to her. On the same level, without anything else there, the chair missing. It wasn't bad by any means, just...different, and it was surprising her in the back of her mind that it felt that way. Like it shouldn't make a difference, but it did in some fundamental fashion. She watched his eyes from far closer than she usually did, absently noting the color again. The fact that she liked his eyes. He had very nice eyes. The only other time they'd been this close was when they were on the hood of the car they'd taken out of town. "I don't think I can. I don't even have to worry about them, killing me when they're bored of me, or someone from my experiment doing it. I will. I can't--" she started, stopping for a moment, and she glanced away again, down towards the floor. "I was really scared. And I just...I really hated it. Because it was my fault. I didn't even try it. If I'd tried it, or just not cared, or something, then it would have been different. Like when I left the vicarage. That...that was different. This time it was an accident, and that scares me more than I can say. I can't tell you how it feels, even, how..." she bit at her lower lip and shook her head, not finishing the thought. She picked up somewhere else. "I can't do this. Even if I counted my pills every day, if I remembered to do that, I'm not so good at remembering counts. You remember when I tried to make us an inventory? I couldn't even keep things straight from one page to another. And so I just...I can't do this. Flat out, I keep looking at it, and looking at it, and I can't see any other outcome. This isn't going to work out for me. Everett killed me. It just...took longer than usual." She didn't realize she phrased that in the past tense.

"So, you find a way you can keep straight," Brett told her, not looking away and actually not snapping at her for that last comment, though it was tempting to do so. He knew, though, that if he pissed her off, there was nothing he could do to stop her walking away and he doubted that getting back into his chair again was something he was going to find at all easy at the moment. "And, until you can do that, I can help you remember." That was something he'd been intending on doing anyhow, whether she'd asked him to or not.

Eris rested her cheek against her knee, face towards him and she didn't say anything for a long moment. "I'm not your responsibility." she said, voice subdued. "I...I would..." she didn't know how to finish her thought there, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She concentrated on breathing in and out, because that whole lack of emotional control was hitting her again, and the last thing she wanted to do was fucking cry. So, she was attempting to push that back. She really shouldn't have drank any of that stupid fucking jack, either. Not her best decision in the world.

"Maybe I don't see it as a responsibility," he told her, after a pause as he weighed up what he wanted to say to that. And once he'd said it, he kind of wished he hadn't, because he could see where that statement could be questioned, and he didn't have a real answer to that question if she asked it.

She didn't ask it immediately, because she tried to puzzle it out on her own. But eventually she opened her eyes again, and kept them on his. "Then what is it?" she asked, voice quiet. Because that's how she saw it. It was taking on a responsibility. Like she was a kid who needed it. Like she'd thought before, when he'd said he would call. It wasn't that she didn't need him to do it, it was just...he didn't have to. Especially now. they weren't traveling together. There wasn't any real reason for him to keep looking after her.

If he'd really known the answer to that then he would have given it her before she'd have a chance to ask. He'd known that she'd ask, after all. He just wasn't sure that he could openly define it in any acceptable way. But, she'd asked, so he had to give her some kind of an answer - right now, 'I don't know' just wasn't going to fly. He felt like that would be worse than no answer at all. "Maybe it's something I want to do," he said, eventually.

The fact that she didn't expect that answer and it confused her showed in the flicker of emotions across her features. Part of her wondered if that was true, or if he was just saying it, because if it was true, that had different connotations than anything else. It would have to be considered differently, because it made it about him and not her. Another part of her was remembering the thoughts she'd had when he'd gotten so upset about her watch in the first place. How that had been the root of his ire, that watch. What it meant, maybe. So...if what he said right now was true, then that gave that entire argument a new spin. If it was something he wanted to do, then having that taken away from him would have the effect she'd seen. She wanted to ask why. And, in the end, that was what she said. "...I want to ask you why, but I won't." she said, voice soft. She kept her eyes on his, though, at least managing not to look away this time.

He held her gaze, nodding once. Yeah, she wouldn't ask, because he wouldn't want to answer and she probably wouldn't like what he had to say even if he did. Better just to leave it, not go near it. That was for the best. He looked away, just slightly, so he wasn't holding her gaze anymore, his sight directed more towards her shoulder.

He averted his gaze, but she didn't waver hers. She kept studying him, trying to think of where to go next with what she was talking about, what they were talking about. A fear rose up in the back of her mind, and she said it without thinking about it. "You know if you do this...they're just going to take us away from each other...don't you?" she asked, voice very soft. Because if he did it because he wanted to, regardless of the reason, they would want to fuck him over when he least expected it. And if she was full out relying on him, willingly, knowingly, then they would want to pull the rug out from under her as well.

His eyes batted back up to hers when she said that. She sounded so sure, but then she'd come from a different type of experiment to him - one where they did get actively fucked over, rather than just left to it in a shitty situation. But, more than that - it was the way she'd put it, really the first time there'd been a reference to any kind of an 'us' between them. They'd always been careful about that. "And the alternative is...?" he asked her, not really seeing an acceptable one there.

She opened up her mouth, then shut it, thinking over her statement again before she went forward with it. "That you save yourself the trouble for something that's just going to get taken away anyways, and I still don't think they're ever letting me leave. You I..." she started, shifting slightly, more towards him, posture slightly less defensive than it had been a moment ago as she let the arm that was closest to him drop down from where it had been around her knees, to press her palm to the floor next to him, between them. "You're a survivor. Even if you don't always want to be." she said. " down there? You didn't need me to help you. You would have gotten out eventually." There was the lightest flicker of a smile that lit then died on her lips. "You're too stubborn to have just stayed down there. And it would have taken a while, and you would have had to work yourself up to it...but you would have done it." she said. "I'm not. I...sometimes I do things that'll make sure I make it longer, but then there are other times when I'm just ready for the lights to go out again and just not come back on this time. That's not a disposition suited to being in an environment like this. I'll get eaten by it all sooner or later."

Brett shook his head. "I don't know if I would have been able to do it. You saw me in there - you had to push me out that fucking elevator when we got to the top, I - I'd given up already. If I'd been by myself, I probably would have just let the doors shut again and gone up and down until I don't know when. And I've said it before, Princess - I don't think they're letting any of us out of here. But, when we can, we're gonna try and leave again. And we'll just keep trying."

"I do. And maybe you would have, but I didn't give you the opportunity to get yourself out. The second the doors opened, I pushed you out, because I knew you needed to not be in there. But I wouldn't say that I had to." Eris said, leaning back against the wall with him finally, shoulder brushing against his. She leaned her head back against the wall, eyes on a middle distance. "What are we going to do until we leave again?" she asked, ticking her gaze to watch his profile from up close. Absently, she wondered if he recognized the fact that his accident hadn't actually changed the bone structure of his face, and if he'd been a good looking man previously? He still was.

"Well, we'll never know, will we," Brett told her. She was close enough that he had to bat his gaze back and forth between each of her eyes to hold them, but he put that down to the fact that they were squashed behind the sofa here - there just wasn't room for anything else, yet right here and now he didn't find the atmosphere constrictive. Somehow being behind something wasn't the same as being in an enclosed room. He didn't feel like he couldn't get out - much like he hadn't felt all that enclosed in the forest-room. "And what do we do? I don't know, prepare? Find some way for you to work with your meds. I'm sure we can fill the time..."

She had conflicting reactions to that. One was that yes, she was sure they could fill the time. And she wanted to jump at that, because it meant she wouldn't be alone all the time like she was anticipating. On the other hand, preparing might just entail going back to the town to get more shit and sitting it in a room somewhere. Not something they needed to do together. or that would take that long. Another part of her was still aware that he was staying here and she was going elsewhere. That she was going to be alone, and she bit back a request that he go with her. She could think of excuses now and everything for it to be like that. But...she couldn't say it. "I'm sure we can." she agreed in the end, keeping all of the bullshit swirling in her head to herself, because hey--he really didn't need it right now, did he? She drew in a breath and let it out slowly, for a moment, leaning closer to him to rest her forehead against his shoulder.

He stilled as she did that, glancing down at the top of her head, uncertain and unsure as to how to react. Oh, he could think of several reactions, some of them very him-now, a couple of them more him-then, which made a change, actually. Usually he didn't even consider those things that fell into that category - something he blamed firmly on the alcohol. In the end, he reached out with his right hand and patted her hair, a little awkwardly. It had been a long, long time since he'd been in anything even vaguely resembling this kind of a situation.

She was surprised at that. Eris hadn't expected him to touch her at all, definitely not anything like that. And she had the urge to reach out and take his hand, pull it in towards her chest to hold it there. She didn't, because even if he was making a nice gesture, she could tell it was awkward for him. She wondered just how long it had been since he'd even been this close to a girl. And close, not just in the proximity sense. She did turn her face slightly towards his touch, a more unconscious gesture than anything. Inside the back of her head, her mind was running through cues. Little things that she could do, to push the situation to something else. Different ways she could twist it, depending on what she wanted him to feel about it. All that bullshit in the back of her head that she couldn't ever shut off, all information she didn't employ now. Like she hadn't in a long time. She didn't want to. And right now, she really wished it would just...stop. Why couldn't the brain damage just reset her? Then maybe she wouldn't be so fucked up. Broken. Because she wouldn't have those shadows in the back of her mind that told her if she worked things slowly enough, that he could even see it as him drawing her in. She could make him think...whatever she wanted. In those moments she really really hated that she knew exactly how she could manipulate him.

There was the question of what he did then - the movement was a finite gesture and he felt equally as awkward drawing back as he had done moving in in the first place. He dropped his hand back to his side and leant his head back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling before he closed his eyes. Maybe he could just sleep for a while, though he knew better than to sleep on a hard floor. It wasn't good for him when he couldn't feel if he was getting numb, but with his head all over the place, getting back up wasn't happening, and anyway, it'd feel wrong to leave now. There just seemed little else to say. All roads led to badness.

She didn't say anything. Her mind was just a mass of fucked up things and she felt awful about it. Like she felt awful about wanting to curl up to his side, hug his arm, and stay there. But if she did that, she would have to move eventually anyways, since the house was now starting to approach 'fucking freezing'. She didn't want to move yet though. She didn't want to leave him there. Her question rose up in the back of her mind again, but she didn't ask. A few others did on the heels of it, and she bit her lip, staying where she was. She curled up a little further, towards him as she leaned against the wall, but she didn't necessarily try to get closer to him or lean in against him. "What are you thinking about?" she asked lightly. she'd take just about anything, so long as it got her current train of thought off its tracks.

"I'm thinking that I'm tired," he told her, not looking round, or even opening his eyes. "And cold. And it's been a long fucking day. And I drank too much." And nothing was getting any better, but he didn't add that one to the list, because he never expected it to. That was just a fact of life.

She smiled at that. It was a light smile, but present, and she looked up finally, almost resting her chin on his shoulder where her forehead had been, but in the end thinking that was a little too familiar. He'd come down to sit with her because she'd been having a mini breakdown, not for any other reason. It didn't mean there was a touchy feely free for all happening. "You want to go lie down?" she asked. "And I can shut the windows...I'm freezing." she added. Though his sweatshirt helped. And where she was sitting all close to him she was slightly warmer, but it wasn't like they were cuddling.

It took him a few minutes to answer that, during which time he still didn't move. He exhaled, long and slowly. "I should do," he admitted. "Floor's not good for me." He wouldn't be able to make it to the bedroom, he knew. There was no way he would be getting back into his chair until he'd sobered up - that was always a balancing trick to not bring the thing down on top of him and he didn't feel steady enough to try it right now. He figured he could make it to the couch though, and he'd left the blanket there earlier on. "Don't shut all the windows," he told her. He needed the air.

She nodded. "Okay." she said. "I'll leave the one in the hall open. But it's already freezing in here...falling asleep in this isn't going to be good for you." she said. "And I'm already sick, if we're both sick, that'll not work out well. Wait your turn." she said, teasing very lightly. She also didn't move, waiting for him to, really. She was oddly comfortable, and was fairly certain that this was going to be the first and last time she'd ever be in this particular position with Brett.

"I have a blanket, and I don't get sick," he told her, stubbornly, knowing he needed to move, but waiting for her to move first. He fell silent for a few moments, uncertain whether he was going to ask the question lingering in his mind, then asked it anyway. "What are you going to do?"

Wasn't that the question? What was she going to do? She thought he was coherent enough now that she didn't think the drugged jack was going to do him any actual harm. So she felt better on that score, but...well. There was her issue with not actually wanting to leave. Which was purely hers. This was his house. It wasn't like she was going to go crash out in his bed. His room was a no-her-zone. Even if she planned on taking his room at the vicarage. That was different. This was his house that he was living in again and yeah She also didn't have her boots or jacket. They were down in magic forest land. And it would be dark down there, and she would get lost. Who knew how big the place was, or how long it would take her to get back. "Trying to decide that." she said, after she was taking too long to answer him. What do you want me to do? Wait I know the answer to that. You don't care. You're just going to bed.

"You can stay, if you want to. You don't have shoes," he reminded her. Or possibly just gave that as a viable reason. And as for whether he was giving her permission for her sake, or for his, he couldn't say and he wasn't into looking hard at that either. The fact that he knew her boots were down the elevator wasn't something that really occurred - he wouldn't send her down there. He wouldn't want to go. That place was lost to him now.

"They're down in wonderland." she said lightly. "...but I don't really want to go down there in the dark then get lost. So...if you didn't mind...okay." Wow, he'd really had to twist her arm, hadn't he? She'd have to leave tomorrow. Make sure to leave tomorrow. Get her stupid, psychologically fucked ass out of here and at least pretend to try and do this shit for herself. Move to the vicarage. But...putting it off one night she liked. Because she'd been by herself for two days and she'd hated that, and she was still a little worried about him anyways so it was for the best that she stay. "Where should I sleep?" she asked, watching his profile again.

"I'm gonna need to take the couch," he told her, noting that neither of them had tried to move yet. But they were still discussing plans, so that wasn't that surprising. "There's a spare room, if you wanted," he added - he wasn't drunk enough to suggest she took his bed. Sure, he'd been fine with the idea of her taking his room at the vicarage, but he had no actual intention of going back there, it was different. But if he was back in this house again, his room was his room, whether he was sleeping on the couch or not.

A little relief swept through her at the mention of the spare room. Okay, so, that was something then. She nodded. "Okay." she agreed, thinking that made everything a lot less stressful for her. She paused, still not actually moving, even if a shiver went through her. Fuck, it was cold. "What way is it?" she asked. Not that it was a big house, but she hadn't gone looking around, either.

"Just to the left of the bathroom - opposite and down a little from my room," Brett told her. Not that there was a lot of house, all things considered. She couldn't get too lost. He noticed the shiver and decided that they really needed to move. Shifting himself forward, he pushed to the side, giving her enough room to get up. "Go on," he told her, indicating she should get up first.

Internally, she was reluctant to do so. She'd...well, that had been nice. And it wasn't like she had any illusions about it ever happening again. This had been a specific circumstance, and well. He was drunk, so she was sure it had seemed like a good idea at the time, but wasn't going to be anything he'd let himself do while sober. Still, she lingered for a second, but then got up, careful of him so she didn't bump him or anything. "I'm getting water, do you want any?" she asked, moving to shut the front door while she was up. Freezing, freezing house. She was going to be shivering most of the night now. But she'd take it. She knew she wouldn't be staying tomorrow night.

He was back at looking up at her now. Just a lot further up since he was on the floor. He had a great view of her knees. Fabulous. He craned his neck upwards. "No, but I know I should have some," he admitted to her as he turned himself around and pulled himself out backwards from where they'd been sitting.

She smiled faintly. "Yes, you should." she agreed. "I'll get you some." she added, shutting a window too. She'd keep her promise of not shutting all of them, but yeah. Somehow she didn't think her getting worse again and him giving himself pneumonia was the best plan ever. She made her way to the kitchen, not paying attention to what he was doing because it wasn't like he hadn't done it before, or had to often, so yeah. He'd be fine. He just needed water to kill some of the hangover tomorrow.

He waited until she'd gone before really starting to haul himself round to the couch. Even drunk, he felt the indignity of having to pull himself along on his ass, hand over hand like some injured zombie in a horror movie. At least, that's how he saw it. As soon as he was able, he pulled himself up and onto the couch, sitting on the edge and leaning forward to take off his boots and socks before pulling his legs up and round, positioning himself and covering himself with the blanket.

She shut more windows, but it was a small house, there weren't that many, and then she got him a glass of water, and herself one as well. Then she walked back into the living room, holding out the glass towards him. She'd had to tug the sleeves up a little since his hoodie was pretty big on her. But if she didn't have it, by now she would likely need a hot bath. She eyed the blanket he had critically. "That's not a very good blanket, plus it's wet on the corner."

"Well, it's not like I had much choice," he pointed out to her. It had taken him an effort to get this far - the bedroom may as well have been a lifetime away. He sat up to take the water off her, setting it down on the floor by his side. "Thanks," he added.

"You're welcome." Okay, so he didn't have a secret blanket cache behind the couch or anything, that didn't mean she couldn't go get him one. So, she headed off quickly to go peek in doors in the hall, and found a linen closet, with a spare blanket inside. Then she headed back to him, taking a drink and setting her glass down on the nearest end table. Then she traded his blanket out for the good one, pulling the first off and dropping it at her feet, then spreading the second one over him. "Okay I feel better." she told him pretty much to tell him automatically that it had been for her peace of mind.

He didn't say anything. He actually judged it best to keep his mouth shut. There'd been too many ups and downs today and he was just too tired to pick another fight. Anyway, he didn't know whether he could make it make sense in any event. Very little made sense right now. He just wanted to sleep. So he said nothing, accepting the blanket and pulling it up round his chin, turning his head to one side, resting it against the arm of the couch. "Night, Princess," he told her, aware it was still early, but he was just so tired right now.

"Night, Brett." she said, taking her glass of water again, and she started walking off. They hadn't turned lights on, so there weren't any to turn off, and full dark would settle in sometime here. She kept her eyes on him for a few long moments, then made herself turn around to go find the guest room. she was going to try and sleep while she could as well. It wasn't like she'd gotten a stunning amount lately, and she was willing to bet once she moved to the vicarage she wasn't going to be getting much at all.