Trying Not To Talk

Feeling:
angry

Who: Brett and Eris
Where: The vicarage - hallway/ kitchen
When: Early morning

Eris had gotten up early. Kind of stupidly early, because she had gone to bed really early. She was feeling better. Not one hundred percent, or anything, but she was moving faster, her head didn't pound constantly, and the little ache in it was actually something that was kind of normal for her. She got headaches a lot. Her fever seemed to have gone down some too. She'd even gotten dressed today. Real clothes and everything, though she stuck with warmer things, comfortable things. She was sitting on the third stair up from the bottom, looking down at the Brett-doll she'd retrieved again from the doll house. She kept thinking she was going to check it. See what was under the eye patch. See what kind of cut the missing limb had. All that kind of thing, but she hadn't yet. And, as she was sitting there, staring down at the doll in her hands, she was kicked out of her heavy thoughts by the watch on her wrist. With the little musical alarm that was going off. She couldn't place the song, but it sounded like a music box to her. The light on it started to flash as well. She didn't do anything, just stared down at it, watching the little smileyface icon on the lcd screen blink.

Brett had been up for a while as well. Given the last few days, sleeping in didn't really feel like an option any more, and he didn't want another day where everything was getting started before he'd had a chance to privately get himself ready for the day. So, he'd woken early this morning and kept himself very much to himself until he felt ready to face whatever it was they had to face today. He was, however, pleased to see that the chair they'd given him yesterday hadn't been taken away again. It was a damn sight better than anything he'd had in the past, and far and away above the piece of crap they'd given him for a couple of days. He rolled out into the hallway almost silently, enjoying the lack of squeak and the loss of rusty resistance. And, as such, he saw her before she saw him and he looked at her, noting the small signs that told him she was looking rather better today.

Blink. Blink. Blink. Why was it a happy face? Had they done that? Or was it just the way the watch had been made? Smile, time for your happy-pills! She'd probably be doing better if her pills were anywhere near intoxicating, but they weren't. Well. Unless she od'd them with a lot of alcohol. They were just there to...do whatever. She didn't remember much about them anymore. She'd read the files on them when she'd first got them and forgotten all about the fine print a long time ago. She just knew they were necessary. The music box alarm kept going, ringing the tune over and over. She supposed she had to give it some credit. It wasn't only like ten notes. It played a song. She guessed that for a watch as nice as this one, some cheap little midi file that repeated itself after only a few seconds just would be insulting. Was it a sonata? Was that what was playing? She could imagine it on the piano. Setting the doll on the step next to her, she reached out to hit the little button to turn the alarm off, standing up and going to head for the kitchen to get herself a glass of water, but she stopped. Because she saw Brett up the hall. She hadn't heard him coming, and her first thought was...How long was he watching me? She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there. How long he'd been there. It was a little unsettling.

"You being all musical now?" he asked her, raising an eyebrow. He'd heard the music, after all. Didn't know what it was for, but she'd definitely had music. And that fucking doll again. She just couldn't leave shit alone, could she?

"Yes." she said. "Apparently so." She finished walking down the steps, walking across towards the kitchen door, but not going in yet. "It was a present for you." she said. "Your saving grace." Then she turned to go into the kitchen, but she didn't actually shut the door when she went inside. She left it wide open, and started the process of going through the cabinets to find a glass.

Brett moved round to the kitchen door nearest the stove, simply because it had the most space around it. He didn't think anything of it, it just felt better that way. He didn't go into the room - he still had yet to enter the kitchen, but at least yesterday's feast had filled his empty stomach. Today he was back on energy bars. "My saving grace?" he asked her, his tone expressing his sarcastic doubt over that. He had no idea what she was talking about. Or why she would have a present meant for him.

She found the glasses, filled one up with water from the tap, then dug her pill box out of her pocket, taking them. Then she hit the little pulsing light button, and turned towards Brett. "It's my brand new, automated you." she told him, leaning her hip against the counter, arms crossed loosely over her stomach. "You don't have to remind me to take my pills anymore." she clarified for him. And again, she just had that little hollow kind of feeling in her chest. Which was probably why she was presenting it to him in the way she was.

Brett didn't answer straight away, though he kept his face blank. He... didn't know how he felt about that, apart from he knew he wasn't jumping for joy or anything. Not like she probably expected him to be. or seemed to expect that. "Oh. Right." he paused, watching her take the pills. "...When did you get that?" he asked, his tone politely interested, though free of any real emotion, which, all things considered, was strange for Brett. He was a great user of emotion in his words - even if that emotion was usually disdain, rejection and any other negative connotation he could wrangle in there.

She noticed that, which had her not answering immediately in return, as she set the glass down on the counter. "Yesterday." she told him. "Santa must have thought I've been a good girl. I got this, a notebook with a pen, a...I don't know. Recorder...thing. I haven't figured out how to use that yet." She shrugged. "And you got a shiny new wheelchair. So I guess yesterday was be nice to the invalids day." she said, pushing off the counter, and turning towards the cabinets again. "Do you want anything? I'm considering attempting to eat." Because her stomach felt slightly better. It could hold things down, theoretically.

"You're feeling better as well," Brett said - more of an observation than anything, she was looking better, she was sounding better. She was better. And he shouldn't be feeling this off kilter about things. "That's... good. And no, I don't want anything. But you should eat," he told her, and then felt that internal kick. She didn't need him to say that. She didn't need him at all anymore, did she. He should be happy about this - he'd spent enough time trying to fucking get rid of her, after all.

"So should you." she said in return, still not looking at him. But then again, she hadn't expected him to say yes. She would just do what she did otherwise, which was make him something, and leave it where he could get it when he was feeling less stupidly stubborn. She found bread, and decided to make grilled cheese. Because they were really, really easy. So long as she remembered to pay better attention to the burner. "I don't know what they gave me the recorder thing for anyways." she said, tone kind of neutral, slightly conversational. "I mean, what am I going to record? 'Today, we were all vaguely bitchy at one another. Hannah's dog stinks. I think Posy might collect eyeballs in jars in her off time. Brett yelled at me today, and Everett was gruff and ordered me around like a prisoner. Please, Baby Jesus, bring me a pony. Amen'" she dictated, the lilt of her voice going more ditzy as she dictated. "Or maybe 'hey, you fucks moved me again in my sleep, it's creeping me out, stop it'." She said, tones evening out. "Can't say that I think there's much I have that I'd want repeated back to me later."

Brett rallied himself, feeling the funk looming and for all the fucking wrong reasons. Anyway, it was really fucking clear that this situation didn't bother her at all - and why the hell should it? She was still getting what she needed, wasn't she? Those were their presents yesterday: what they needed and a measure of independence. He should be fucking grateful, not sitting there like some kind of fucking lemon. Brett reached for his internal annoyance and anger, grasping it like he always did and feeding it, drawing off it - his way of dealing with the world. "I'm sure you'll come up with something, Princess," he told her, injecting the usual drawl of disdain back into the words.

There was the Brett she knew and--- the sarcasm was back. She started to butter the bread, and set the pan on the burner, setting it to medium low, and vaguely hoping that would work. Things burned last time and she thought maybe it was because the burner was too high. Whatever, it wasn't like she was a master chef. She was barely competent with simple things. "Or, I'll forget it on the table, and eventually forget I have it, coming back in at some point and wondering what the hell it is." she put in. "Somehow that seems more likely to me."

Brett watched her putting things together, wondering if she'd burn it this time. She'd burnt it last time - she'd probably forgotten that she'd been cooking it. Which - wasn't his problem now, was it? "Maybe you can set your watch to remind you," he shot back at her, putting a slight emphasis on the word 'watch', the sarcasm still heavy there. That was what it was there for, wasn't it? Her new, portable replacement for him: it could even go upstairs and didn't have the associated attitude problem. Made everything so much simpler.

She glanced over, before setting the first one in the pan. "Or not." she said. Because she still didn't even know how she felt about everything. Just that it gave her that hollow feeling, and she didn't like it, and she was aware how insanely stupid it was. "I just said I don't need it anyways. And I don't need the notebook either." And...she did need someone...something to remind her about her meds. Because that she consistently forgot. And if she remembered, she didn't know if she'd already remembered, and taken them. Then she spoke without thinking about it first. "And then one day, they'll set it so it goes off four times a day. To see if I catch it." she said. "And I probably won't."

"So count the pills in each bottle after you've taken them and write the numbers down in your notebook," Brett told her. Not failsafe, not with the ways they could fuck with things, but it would make it harder to fool her.

She looked over at him. "Hm. Hadn't thought of that." she said, turning back to the stove. And she probably never would have, either. But it wasn't a bad idea. Or, might not be a bad idea. "But then, we both know how good I am at keeping track of numbers." she said, referring to the inventory she'd been trying her hardest to take before they'd left. And she still had things that appeared on the list more than once. Even if she'd been over it what felt like a million times. That particular frustration rose up and her jaw set, as she stared down at the pan. Then she realized she needed a spatula, and hadn't found it first. She'd missed that step. So, she started going through drawers to find one.

"Take it off the stove before you go looking, or it'll burn before you can get back," Brett told her before he could stop himself as he realised what she was doing. Fuck. he pushed back and turned away from the door. "Enjoy your breakfast," he told her, determined to get the fuck out of here. This whole thing was fucked, no matter which way he looked at it. He needed some space. He always needed fucking space. There wasn't enough of it in this world.

She looked back towards the stove, and did what he said to, before she looked back and saw he was leaving. She didn't say anything for a few moments, then walked around the doorframe, to look up the hall after him. "I'm feeling better." she said. "Wasn't that what you were waiting for?" She didn't say 'we need to talk'. Or 'hey, your excuses have flushed themselves out of my system, how about you get to that shouting at me thing now?' or anything like it. She left it at that. He'd know what she meant.

"Does it even matter?" Brett called back, not stopping, heading for the front door. She didn't need him - why the fuck did they need to have anything out anymore, now that she didn't need him and with this fucking snow everywhere and with them having taken most of their belongings, they couldn't exactly leave any longer. Not really. Hell, she'd tried it and she'd been sick for days and he wasn't going to risk her like that, so - what was the fucking point anymore.

She watched him still moving, still retreating. "Yes." she said. It was a simple answer. And really, about as simple as she could make it. And she wasn't getting into the long version, because she didn't even know what she would say. Leaning her shoulder against the wall, she waited to see if he kept going, or what. If he had anything to say. Or, maybe it didn't matter to him. Maybe none of it did. So, she put that to voice. "Doesn't it?"

"Why would it?" he asked her, stopping and turning to face her. "What's the point? or do you get off on me shouting at you?" he asked, pulling on that deep well of anger again to cover the feelings he refused to acknowledge at him being replaced.

"What's the point?" she asked, blinking and just staring at him, a little flicker of confusion running over her features before it smoothed back into neutrality. "I guess there isn't one. Funny, I'd thought there was. I'd thought you'd had shit to say to me, that you weren't going to do, because for some fucked up reason, you didn't want to do it while I was sick. Well, I'm fine now." Or, mostly fine. "And now you're pussing out?" she snapped, tapping into her own anger finally. It had been pretty fog-hazed for the past few days. Mostly, the primary feeling she'd had going on was hurt. Which she wasn't acknowledging.

"Pussing out?" Brett asked, surprised. "No, I'm not fucking pussing out, but is there really any fucking point, when you try and leave town and it almost fucking kills you, so that's out for now, isn't it? And when you've got that... thing," he said, waving his hand at her wrist as his voice rose. "So unless you're after an argument for argument's sake, then what's the fucking point?"

"What the fuck does this have to do with anything?" she asked, gesturing at her wrist. "And whatever, big deal, I didn't die, did I?" she continued. "And you've spent pretty much every second since then bitching at me, and you've got shit to say, and now you're just not going to? What the fuck you've never had problems bitching before, or telling me exactly what you think, why are you suddenly wondering what the point might be in the first place? And what about after this? Or are you going back on everything now?" she said, forgetting entirely that she was making anything. She crossed her arms across her stomach and just glared.

"Going back to everything? There's an 'everything' to go back on? I never promised you anything Eris - or Julia - or whatever the fuck you've decided to fucking call yourself today!" he shot back at her. Whether or not he thought there was any point in arguing with her, it seemed to be in full swing in any event. An argument about an argument.

That hit her hard, and she stalked up the hallway towards him, fire in her eyes as she did. "I told you something and it was something I fucking trusted you with. And the second that you got the chance to, you completely fucking turned your back on me. The first hint of an excuse and you were fucking gone, and so you know what? I left. And they dropped me the fuck back here so you could dish out more, and you did, and for some stupid reason, after you decided that everything you'd fed me before was just bullshit, you were looking after me. Or maybe you just got off on giving me a hard fucking time. So don't stop now, sweetheart." she said, leaning over, grabbing the arms of his chair and she slammed it back against the wall he was closest to, leaning over him. "You're were just getting started." she hissed.

Brett hated that - he hated being pushed around like that, but she'd been right in her assessment previously - she was a girl, so he didn't fight back. He glowered up at her as she loomed over him - she was a tiny fucking thing and she could still fucking loom, it wasn't fucking fair. "Fuck you - you've spent all this fucking time telling me how I can't trust you and how you're a bad fucking person who screws with people and then you're surprised when I think you've been fucking lying to me? What - I'm meant to immediately jump to the conclusion that you told me the truth and not, say, whatever the fucking hell is common knowledge and that everyone else got a lie or some bullshit story? because that makes sense in what fucking world, exactly? Certainly not the world where you've already trying to give me a new one for fucking trusting you in the first place. So back the hell off."

"Yes, I was surprised, because this entire fucking time you've been telling me time and again, whenever I've tried to warn you, that no. I wasn't her anymore. That I wasn't that girl. And you said it like you knew it. Like you understood, because you're not who you were either." she snapped, still leaning her hands on the arms of his chair, leaned in close. Anger had her cheeks flushed, her system shot with heat. "And I trusted you. I believed you. And the first second that you got, you dropped all of that. Like it didn't. Fucking. Matter." And she just barely caught the wording there, catching 'I' and changing it to 'it'. She knew something else had slipped before, but she was too mad to care right then. Or something else. she didn't know. "So, what did you have to say to me? Huh, love? What did you have to say that you're backing out on now? Doesn't seem fair. I waited like a good little girl, didn't I? Because of your stupid condition? Well I want to know. I want to know what you have to say to me. Lay it out."

"And I thought you were different, I thought you had changed and then that? The other day? When suddenly I realised that maybe I'd been wrong there, and all that time you'd be right - and you'd even been telling me that. So yeah, I dropped it - all of it. Because if that wasn't real? What about the rest of it? I don't play games," he spat back at her, not telling her how that had felt, refusing to admit how much that had made him feel like he'd been played. How much the whole thing had just fallen apart for him, like the rug had been pulled out from under him and the ground was missing.

"Yes you do." Eris shot back at him. "Yes, you do." she repeated, eyes not leaving his for a second. "You play all the fucking time and most people don't see it but I do. And you know why you can be around me, and we can go off together, and we can say we're just going to leave everyone else the fuck behind and not care what might happen to us? Because I let you." she told him. "So is that what you wanted to tell me? I'm an evil bitch, because the name differences? Because no matter what high and mighty bullshit you were feeding me, you just were waiting for me to fuck up? For you to drop down on me like a ton of fucking bricks without even asking me to clarify? Not even for a second?" She finally pushed back, walking a good five feet away, back up the hall towards the stairs. She dragged her fingers through her hair, and felt the anger, the hurt, everything swirling around inside of her and she knew it was one of those times where she just...didn't have control. Where her emotions were calling the shots, and she didn't have rational say. That filter had gotten damaged sometime when the lights went out. It came out as a laugh. An entirely humorless one, though it almost sounded rich. It was kind of an alien sound to her at this point. And it sounded off even to her. Or maybe any laughter of her own would by now. It was possible. "Do you know why I told you my real name, instead of the alias?" she asked, looking back over her shoulder, though not fully at him, gaze fixed hard on the shitty wallpaper. "Because I started out telling you the truth with everything. And I figured I wasn't going to start lying then." By the time she finished speaking, it was quiet. "Guess that was the wrong call."

"Maybe the wrong call was not telling me you'd told everyone else something different," Brett retorted. "And no - for the record - I wasn't waiting for you to 'fuck up'." He shut his mouth, his expression tight as he looked away for a moment, not wanting her to see what was in his eyes. "...I was waiting for you to let me down," he told her, at last. Somewhat reluctantly.

It was the fact that she didn't get fire back that had her turning back around fully, and she just stared at him for a long few moments. Stared, eyes narrowed. Everything was still there, but the push towards manic was ebbing a little. Not fully, just enough. She realized in a distant fashion that she was shaking a little bit, and didn't know why. Adrenaline? Maybe. "Why would I tell you that, when we've known each other for weeks, and you never want to even really talk? And you never asked me my name at all? You didn't want to know. You were perfectly fucking happy to just not know my name. I still don't even know why you bothered asking for it in the first fucking place. But don't give me 'you should have said', when communication isn't exactly your strong suit." she said. She walked back over, but didn't close the distance. She was still about three feet back from him, arms still hugged around herself. In the end she leaned back against the wall opposite of him, and slid down it. "Well, did I then?" she asked. "Let you down? With flying colors, even?" She was sure she had. Even if it hadn't been intentional.

"'Flying colours'? Don't give yourself airs, Princess," he told her, finally pushing forward from where she'd had him against the wall, just a bit, closing the gap slightly. "And I asked because it seemed fucking pointless not to know," he told her. "And I never said you should have said - just that maybe if you're looking for the wrong call, that was it. But you didn't, so what exactly was I meant to think? Huh? What?"

"Oh, good! So, you completely cashed out on me for a slight slip?" Eris asked, making a short laugh sound, that was anything but good sounding. "Not even me failing on a large scale? Just something minor?" she continued. "Wow, that really makes me feel so much better." she said, shaking her head and she looked back at him, even if she'd been looking up the hall. And she didn't meet his eyes. She looked past him, over his shoulder. "You can think whatever the fuck you want. You weren't meant to think anything. What I would have wanted? Was you to just...fucking ask me. Give me the chance to explain. Just a shred of maybe the tiniest bit of--you know just...nevermind." she ended in a mumble. "Nevermind. It doesn't matter." Like he'd said.

"You left," Brett reminded her, jumping straight in there as soon as she'd finished talking. "You left - you fucking dumped shit into my room and you left. You wouldn't even have told me you were going if you hadn't nearly fucking hit me with that shit, so don't give me that. You wanted me to give you the chance to explain? Then don't stand one floor up when you know I can't fucking get up those fucking stairs and then disappear out of town. And since you've been back? You've been ill. And whilst you've been ill? I worked some shit out, okay? Like you didn't fucking lie about shit. So, fine. You didn't lie - I jumped to the wrong fucking conclusion, but you wanted to know why I jumped, so I told you."

"Yes, I left. You were really fucking clear with that look you gave me when I said my name was Eris to Hannah. And you didn't really seem to want to talk, when I did drop your shit down to you. And fuck off, I didn't nearly hit you, I looked. I wouldn't do that." she said, grumbling about that. "I told you then that I hadn't been lying. I did tell you. It just didn't matter. Did it." she said. "So don't tell me I didn't say. I did. You weren't listening. You didn't have the time for me." she reminded him. At least, that was how it worked in her head.

"I was angry. And..." He broke off that sentence, refusing to admit to her that he'd been hurt. He wouldn't lay himself open to being that vulnerable. "You didn't want people to know we knew each other - remember? That wasn't a conversation we could have with you up there and me down here. And you knew that - you knew I couldn't say shit to you and if you'd wanted anything more? You would have come down. but you didn't - you put us in a situation where nothing could be said that was worth anything at all and then you left. So don't land this all on me."

"Please, since when do you actually fall in line with anything I say?" Eris asked. "And I would think if I was telling you the truth there, you might have clued in that the rules were suspended for the time fucking being." she said, her eyes finally landing on him properly. On his eyes, and they didn't waver again. "And you know, it occurred to me that you wouldn't exactly see me if I did try to go talk to you. You weren't exactly giving me the impression that you wanted to. Just that you wanted me the fuck gone. So I was gone."

"So why are you here now? If you were so keen to do what you assumed I wanted? Why the sudden need to bring all this up and have it out?" Brett asked her, feeling like he was missing something. Yes, he'd admitted that he'd learnt he was wrong over the past few days, but that admission had come after she'd started this. he didn't get her motivation here.

The question stopped her. Because she didn't know how to answer him. It had her opening her mouth, then shutting it, and looking away. Man, there was some shitty wallpaper in this house. The dollhouse had nicer wallpaper. Why. It was a pretty fucking straightforward question, and she didn't have an answer for him. Besides the obvious one. Obviously, it did matter to her. And she didn't want him to leave. She didn't want to be alone. That was all, she just...didn't want to be alone. And it had nothing to do with him. Really it didn't. In the end she couldn't actually come up with anything. nothing that made sense, or she was willing to say.

"Great - and now you have no answer to that. Perfect. This mean you're done shouting at me?" Brett asked her. "Because I'm fairly sure we've woken the entire house up by now. And your breakfast will be cold." he turned and started away again. "If you come up with a decent answer to that one - let me know," he called back to her.

"You said it didn't matter." She said, after he got a good three feet up the hall. "So...why do you want to know why it matters to me, if it doesn't matter to you?" she asked. She thought it was a valid question. since that didn't make sense either. though, belatedly, she recognized she'd just said in a sideways fashion that it did matter to her. Fuck.

"No, I asked if it mattered - and obviously the answer's 'yes'," he said, stopping, not raising his voice this time. He knew very well he'd led her to believe otherwise, but then again, he'd thought it wouldn't matter to her. Nothing ever mattered to anyone else. He never mattered to anyone else. "I just don't get why."

She didn't catch it. with as emotional as she'd gotten and as she'd already felt control slip during this conversation, she accepted that she must have misinterpreted. She was quiet for a long, long few minutes. When she did speak, she didn't even know if it was an answer to his question, or just a statement. "I trusted you." she said, voice quiet. Kind of dull.

I just don't get why, Brett thought to himself as he closed his eyes and dropped his head slightly. He didn't say that though. He wasn't sure what he was going to say until the words came out. "I trusted you too," he told her. He didn't really get why for that part either. It wasn't like she'd even attempted to sell herself as trustworthy, but he thought that maybe that had been part of it. There was an honesty to everything he'd appreciated. Which was why the lie - or what he'd seen as as the lie - had hit so hard.

She watched him, and the lightest of smiles curled her lips, even if it died a moment later. "Can't imagine why. I kept telling you not to." she told him, voice light. "And I guess that's gone now?" she said, not meaning for it to come out like a question, but it did. There was that light lilt at the end of it, and she really hated herself in that moment for how it sounded.

"Yeah, you did keep telling me not to. But - at least you were honest about it," he told her, still not turning round, though he opened his eyes again. He didn't answer her question though - he'd have to have an answer to give her, and right now, he didn't.

She noticed that he didn't answer. Which just...hurt. "Technically, since I didn't lie to you in the first place, I guess that wasn't me being honest." she said. "Or maybe I just...kept expecting you to do exactly what you did. And then you did it." she said, though her voice lacked accusation. She could have tossed that in there, but didn't. "Why have you been--" she started, not sure how to word things. 'Taking care of me' was just way too fucking close to the mark and close to a lot of other things she wasn't at all willing to look at or bring up, to say.

He turned round then, because he didn't quite understand what she'd just said. "You have to lie first to then be honest?" he asked her, feeling like he was missing something here. But then again, she'd had rather odd viewpoints about things in the past, so this could simply be another case of her looking at things in a way that was alien to him. "And why have I been what?"

"Yeah. I told you that you couldn't trust me." Eris said. Then gave another soft, humorless kind of laugh, looking down to the carpet for a moment. "Turns out you could." He just hadn't. And...this was all a mess in her head. It had been so much easier before she'd gotten hurt over things. He'd been using her, she'd been using him. They'd had a very nice 'I don't fuck with you, you don't fuck with me' arrangement. And then he'd gone and hurt her feelings. Which she hadn't even been sure she had in the first place, so it had been a bit of a shock. She took another moment to try and figure out how to word the question. "Trying to look after me." she said finally, since it was close, but didn't involve the word 'care'.

Brett considered this, silently, his only response a long, audible exhalation before he turned to the rest. "You were ill - someone needed to do it. You couldn't look after yourself," he told her, using the past tense there. Because she could now, couldn't she? They'd seen to that. She didn't need him any more. And he hated how much that got to him.

"I probably wouldn't have died." she said. "I probably would have made it. And you didn't just do the small things to make sure you didn't have to clean up after a corpse." she said, kind of walking herself through this as she spoke, this kind of new territory for her since she hadn't thought it all out this specifically. "You were there," she said, frowning a little bit as she looked back up at him, the fact that she caught it fully right as she was saying it.

Brett gave her a stubborn look. "Yeah - and?" he asked, challenging her with that. "So, I'm just meant to do the bare minimum, is that it? Anyway - I didn't exactly do much, did I? Bitched at you, made you take your pills. Which I couldn't even get from upstairs. You should have been eating more, but... Yeah. So you got the half-assed job."

No I didn't. she thought. Because he'd spent a great fucking lot of his time harping on her. And trying to get her to do the things she needed to to be healthy. Get better. She just kept looking at him. She was considering things. Letting her mind turn them over. Like his reaction to what had happened to the poor bastard tied to the tree. She'd been watching. Paying attention. Pieces were filling in in the back of her head, but she didn't have the whole picture yet. She didn't say anything about it though. "So, you just did the bare minimum, so I didn't wind up stinking up the house when I died." she said, not believing that. Her tone was neutral, though. "And now...what? You just did what you had to, you were pissed at me, and then worked through it, and now you're just...going away. And leaving me with...what? Nothing?" She groaned a little, and reached up to rub at her temples. "Can you do something for me? Just...make sense for me? Lay it out there, please. Whatever you want to say, whatever adds up here, I don't give a shit what you tell me, so long as it makes sense. And I promise I'll pretend to buy whatever the fuck it is that comes out of your mouth."

"What do you want me to say here? Really? No - I didn't want you to die. No - I didn't even want you to be ill. Does that really surprise you? Fucking hell - you know..." He broke off, giving her a look. "I don't like seeing people suffer," he told her, grinding that out. "And now? You're better. And you have that watch thing. So, you don't need me to bitch at you. Or to be a fallback in case you forget what meds you've taken when. They gave you independence from the thorn in your side. Congratulations."

"I thought of it more of a freedom for you. So you don't have to feel like you have to bitch at me anymore." she said. "Remember? It's a present for you." Or, that's how she saw it. And for the first time, she let herself think about that more. Because she did see it like that. That they were... taking him away. Severing that contact. That simple, but important little thing that kept them...what, together? Kind of. In a terribly non-together kind of way. God did she ever fucking hate where her head was at right now, and where it was going. "You won't be bogged down with having to look after me, because no one else will. You won't even be required to do your...what did you call it? Your half assed job. You can be free. It's not like you were sticking around for the company." she finished. "That's my issue." And when she said that, she wasn't looking at him again. she was looking at the carpet, which was just as shitty as the wallpaper.

"They gave it to you," Brett told her, but he was frowning already at what she was saying. Again, he really felt like he was missing something here. "Did you not want it or something?" he asked, eventually, sounding a little less certain than he normally did.

"I didn't ask for it." she said. It hadn't even occurred to her, actually. That she should get something that would remind her when to take her meds. Of things she thought about in the grand scheme of things, that didn't make the list. If she'd sat down and thought about it, she would have figured there were things out there that did that, but...yeah. She'd never considered it. Her mind just didn't work that way, she'd never had to deal with anything like this before. Not in her own life, not in anyone she'd known's. "I thought they knew something I didn't."

"I didn't ask if you asked for it," Brett told her. Nobody asked for shit around here - at least, he'd never asked for anything and he didn't hear anyone crowing they'd gotten shit. "I asked if you wanted it."

She didn't answer him immediately, looking back up at him. "Does it matter?" she asked. Because he sounded like it mattered. Like her desire for the stupid thing played in somewhere, and she had to wonder where. If she'd missed something, or...she didn't know. But she was watching him carefully now. "No. I didn't want it." She'd had him. Only...kinda not anymore. Only he'd been there, and...she was back to thinking this was all a really, really big mess. And that Brett made no sense.

Yes, it mattered. He hadn't thought that it would have done - hadn't really known it mattered, not until she'd told him, not until he'd realised that she didn't need him any more. He'd not really thought that she'd needed him in the first place, that he'd been doing all those things she'd needed someone to do. He'd just started doing them, because it made sense. Only then they were taken away from him. And that left a hole. A huge, gaping hole he didn't like. "Why not?" he asked, after a period of silence that was far too long.

She waited. She definitely wasn't going to interrupt whatever train of thought he had going on. And he was going to need to give her time too, because she had no fucking idea what to say to that. How to answer. "Didn't need one, did I?" she answered with a question. It was better than saying 'I had you'. that just...she couldn't say it. It wasn't in her personality to do so. Definitely not right now.

"They obviously thought you did," Brett said, blankly, after a moment or two. He was trying to work out what the hell she'd meant by that. He didn't know, he wasn't sure. "...And you're wearing it," he added, after a moment or two.

"Like I said, I thought they knew something I didn't." she said, watching his eyes again, after looking down at it. "You were there when I was sick...but that's just you." she said. "You said it yourself, you don't like to see people suffer. So, you were doing that, but...that didn't mean that you were going to be there afterwards. And...you were going to skip off. I mentioned the talk we were meant to have...and you turned and said have a nice breakfast." she pointed out. "So, you kind of hammered the final nail in there." She sighed, and thunked her head back against the wall, eyes on him.

"You were the one that said it," Brett told her. "Days ago - we're using each other, according to you, right? That's all this is - and we can't leave with this weather. And you don't need me to be your memory for you any more. You have that. They gave you that. So - what else is there?" He didn't think she'd have an answer for that. She hadn't understood it when he'd got pissed over the whole using thing in the first place. There was no other dimension of this for her. It was straight forward, so he'd taken his leave. Before she got a chance to tell him to fuck off.

"And you spent a lot of time being pissed at me for that comment, remember? You corrected me." she said. "What, are you going back on that now, and saying I was right?" she asked. She didn't say more than that, wanting to know what he'd say. That, and she didn't want to get to the most fucking pathetic part of it. That really...it all came down to the same thing. That tiny part of her that wouldn't die, that screaming little voice in the back of her head that didn't want to be alone. And he knew that. Was he going to make her say it? Was he that cruel? Or did he forget? She didn't think he'd forgotten. He didn't forget things.

"I did, but if that's what you think..." Brett pointed out. "I can't make you think what you don't want to think, Princess. And, according to you - you were using me. And the way I see it? For you - I've run out of uses. So, see me not making a fuss. I'll just... Go be somewhere else and you can get on with your life," he told her, an edge of bitterness creeping into his tone. He tried to claw it back, but it escaped anyhow, which he hated. It betrayed a vulnerability he absolutely loathed.

Eris was silent for a few long, long minutes. She kept her eyes on him, steady, watched his eyes. "You've forgotten, haven't you." she said. Her voice was quiet. Very quiet. Almost inaudible, really. She pushed herself to her feet, and walked over to him, placing her hands down on the armrests of his chair. She drew in a breath, and let it out slowly, keeping her eyes on his. "Tell me that you forgot, and you aren't just being cruel to me." she said voice still that nearly inaudible quiet, not letting her eyes leave his for even a fraction of a second.

He met her eyes, his face carefully blank. "You think I'm cruel?" he asked her, carefully. "If I was being cruel, you'd know it - I'm not good with subtlety in that," he allowed. Usually it had more swear words and abject distain than he was using now. And it would be a hell of a lot easier on him.

"Tell me you're not just twisting the knife." she said. "Tell me you aren't." Please. Because that was the one thing they didn't do. She didn't prod him about his weaknesses, and he didn't with her. It was how they worked. And this? Was throwing her really, really badly right now. Far worse than she would have thought. "You didn't--" she started, and had to give herself a second. "We didn't start this with you fucking...telling me when to take my meds. We started this because you needed to get out, and I needed--" she stopped there.

"To not be around people who wanted to fucking kill you all the time," Brett supplied, wondering exactly what he was meant to be twisting the knife over here. That was how he remembered it starting - that she hadn't liked her survival odds when there were people in town gunning for her like there were.

She shook her head. She didn't know how she felt about him saying that. It meant he wasn't just being incredibly cruel to her. But it was something he was supposed to know. That they didn't talk about, but he was meant to know. To understand. She was still feeling all kinds of unstable. Eris was not having a good time right now. Not by any stretch of the imagination. "Is that what you remember." she said. Then she pushed up, backed away from him a few paces, and she turned, starting to walk away. She wasn't even sure where she was going at this point.

Okay, it was official: he knew he was missing something now as he pushed down on his wheels and followed on behind her as she walked away. "Yes. That's what I remember - so since I'm clearly forgetting something, and it's clearly bugging you, how about you put us both out of our misery and just fucking come out with it? Or am I meant to guess from the ether here?" Because, if he was, that would just be another thing he fucking manifestly failed on.

From the ether. Because she hadn't told him or anything. It wasn't the main reason she was still with him. It wasn't why she'd gone to his house in the middle of the night, after Everett had had her stood still in the police station, so he could see what he'd done to her. It wasn't why she put up with shit, why she tried for him in a lot of ways. Her voice was dull when she spoke, light. Void of inflection. "I didn't want to be alone." She kept walking, though still hadn't picked a destination, but she was kind of running out of hall. Maybe she was headed for the stairs. Where she saw where she'd left the doll-him. Maybe she was leaving again. She didn't know.

Of course - it wasn't about him at all. He could have been anyone. He was just a body, a thing - a being. He stopped, watching her. She'd told him - clearly she had. Before. He'd just... Maybe he'd filed it under the same heading as her using him. It had the same impersonal connotations, after all. That's all she wanted him for - because he was there. Convenient. "I'm sure you can find someone to make you not alone," he told her, after a few long minutes. He bit back the second comment though. He didn't look to hard at why.

"I don't want to." was out of her mouth immediately. And she regretted it, but it was the truth. She got to the stairs, and walked up a couple of them, before she stopped, and looked down at the doll there. She sat down on the step again, half obscured by the sliver-inducing railing. She picked up the doll, and looked down at it. Better than looking at him. Because she didn't know how he was going to take that, and she was feeling cornered. like she had to admit things. Like she needed to tell him what he needed to hear. And yet he wasn't giving anything back. Or maybe she just wanted to think he wasn't giving anything back. Like there was some secret buried beneath his insistance that he'd just been looking after her because he wasn't that much of an asshole. And that he didn't care to be around anymore, because...she had a watch now. That played some stupid song she couldn't place. And blinked a happy face at her.

That stopped him in his tracks. He officially had no idea how to react to that. She didn't want to? What was he meant to do with that? To think about that? What did she mean about that? She could have anyone - sure, there were people in this town she had a history with, but... even taking that into consideration, there were four other experiments. There were interns, there were volunteers - the odds were stacked in her favour and he - he was convinced that she wouldn't have trouble finding someone else. So what the fuck did she mean by that? He didn't have a pat response to that. Not at all.

He was being silent. And he was silent for so long that she actually looked back up. She shifted slightly, enough that she could see him better through the bars. He looked...possibly confused. Maybe just...thrown for a loop. She kept looking at him for a few long minutes, letting the seconds tick by, kept time by her shiny gold watch. "Brett," she said, voice quiet. Soft. "Did you honestly think, in all this time, that I was around and putting up with all of your shit, because I didn't think I could find someone else if I really wanted to?" she asked. She looked back down at the doll, and finally reached up to pull the hat and eye patch off of its face. And she froze. She'd been telling herself that it was stupid. She really was. And she'd been telling herself it was going to be like Hannah's eye, whited out. Or just fine, they'd just put on an eye patch for effect. But that wasn't the case. There was damage there. It looked...she didn't even know. Like a gunshot wound? A bayonet wound? Something. But it was Not Right, and that sent awful feelings shuddering through her at a good goddamn clip. She frowned, staring down at the doll, unblinking. They'd fucked up his eyes. She liked his eyes. They'd paid attention to get the color right on the fucking card. The other eye was perfect. And she just....wasn't dealing with this well. But they hey! That was a trend today for her!

He still didn't answer her. He didn't have an answer for her. He didn't know what to think about that. And then she was lookng down - at that fucking doll again. And he saw the change in her expression and he knew that - whatever it was - she was letting them fucking get to her again. "Stop it," he told her. "Just - don't." God, but that was easier than trying to figure out the rest of it.

"They fucked up your eyes." she said, some emotion threaded through her voice, even if she wasn't speaking loudly. And she knew she should stop. And she was aware of the fact that they were just trying to get a reaction. Bla bla bla. Et cet era, so on and so forth. It was idiotic. But she couldn't help it. They knew how to push her buttons, she supposed, and this was a button. This was very definitely a button, and she didn't even know when it got there, or how they knew, but...fuck.

He looked at the doll, then back at her. "No. They didn't. They gave you a fucking doll that bears a passing resemblance to me. I'm right here and I have both my eyes. They're the one thing in this shitty fucking body that aren't fucked up. See?"

They didn't give it to me, I keep taking it back. she thought, but didn't say. She didn't look up right away, looking intently down at the doll. Then she did look up. And she studied his eyes. Then she got up, closing the short distance to him, dropping the doll in his lap as she reached up and turned his face up towards hers, looking in both of his eyes, but paying special attention to his left one.

Brett ignored the doll in his lap, meeting her eyes and not pulling away. "And, surprisingly, I'm not a unionist solidier. I don't have one leg. Or a missing arm. And you're not fucking Scarlet O'Hara. Hannah's not a Chinese railway worker. Everett's not a slave. And fucked if I know what Posy was but I'm sure she wasn't that either, so if you're done checking I have both blues, you can let go now," he said, stubbornly.

"Everyone else had a perfect copy. Everyone else's was on. Mine had my scars, even the one on my back. But not yours." she said, not actually letting him go just yet, she was still staring into his left eye. "Not yours." she repeated. Then she let him go. Though it was something that was noticeable. Like she kind of just caught up with what she was doing, like she had to shake herself a second, a frown flickering over her features. "I don't like what they've done to you." she said, like she needed to add on that explanation.

"They've done nothing to me," Brett told her, pulling back slightly. "They've toyed with a doll that has a passing fucking resemblance to me. That's all." He held up the doll, then pulled it's head off. "See - look, ruined doll, I'm still here. It's nothing, Princess. Nothing. Just a doll. You wanna pull down my pants and check if they made me all Ken-doll?" he asked, challengingly.

She looked at him for a long moment. She didn't look at the doll. She'd seen. that image was going to be burned into her mind's eye for a long time. "I never checked yours to see if it was anatomically correct." she said. "And if I went anywhere near your pants...something tells me you'd have a very bad reaction." she said. Brett could barely stand being in the same tent as her. He waited til she was asleep to climb in there with her. Then she looked him in the eyes again. "Should we find out?" she asked, in that same challenging tone he'd used on her.

"With no point of comparison, there's hardly any point, is there?" Brett answered. "Point is - I'm not a fucking doll. And neither are you. And you let them get to you too much. You shouldn't. It's what they want and if anyone here knows that, it should be fucking you, Princess. So, stop it," he told her, keeping eye contact the whole time.

Well he was right on one point. She should know that. She really, really should. But this got to her anyways. "Who says I'm not a doll?" she asked. She held her up her wrist. "Look, I even come with accessories." she said. She held up her hair. "You can even see where my head comes off." She turned in a circle and faced him again. "Who says any of us are any more in control of ourselves as that?" she asked, eyes ticking to the broken doll then back up to his. "I know you're right." she said. "I just..." It bothered her. A lot.

"I say you're not a doll," Brett told her as she turned back to face him. "And yes, you know I'm right - so snap the fuck out of it and deal. First the fucking cards, now the dolls. What is it, exactly? This obsession with things that come from them? What is it?"

"It's not an obsession with things that come from them. It's just--" she broke off there. Hadn't she done enough laying herself bare today? Really, she thought she had, she deserved a break from it. He could lay off any time now, and quit digging into her vulnerabilities. "--why do you care anyways." she said, instead of going into what she was going to say. "I should just stop it, right?"

"Right," Brett confirmed. "You should just stop that." He didn't go into why he cared. There was the general and the specific anyhow. He preferred to ignore both. "Unless you wanna tell me what it's just," he added.

"I think I'm done letting you shove in the knife, and twist it around in all of my vulnerabilities today, Brett." she said. "Especially with you giving me shit back. You know, you want me to clarify shit for you, you want me to tell you--but you just ignored me asking you why you even care in the first place. And what are you getting out of this? Unless you really just want to walk away. Find yourself someone you don't have to take care of to go with you on your next jaunt. You said you worked things out, but you haven't said you were sorry. In fact, you know what? You've said next to nothing about your end of this the entire time." she continued. They'd been here before. Back in the church, when she'd let him have it for his continual evasive nature.

"We all have to be in it for something?" Brett asked her. "Like you were so sure that I was just using you - like that was so normal, so every day. Not at all an alien concept to anyone - like most people were just in something for what they could get for their own personal gain. But you do - don't you? You're only in it for what you want out of it. But at least that lets me know where I stand. At least I know that what... You only want me for your reasons. There's no pity there. Or charity. You're not pretending at all. I get that too fucking much."

"We weren't talking about me. we're talking about you." she said. "So don't pull bullshit and turn this back around on me again. This entire fucking conversation you've focused it in on me. Well, you're here too. Unless you don't want to be. And if you do want to be, then I want to know why. You're doing it again. Not saying anything about you. So, you want me to not think about what you want out of things? Like you're not here for something you're getting? Correct me." she said, making eye contact again. "Because you give me no reasons to think otherwise, and you have to know that. So make up your mind. What is it you want me to think? And why is it I'm the more honest of the two of us?" she posed. Then she paused. "Do you want me to want you for other reasons?" she asked, tone very light at that.

"I don't want people's pity. Or charity. I don't want - I'm not interested in talking to people who look at me and feel sorry for me. And that? Is the majority of the world and screw them all. They have no idea. But you didn't - okay? You might have been all about how you were fucking evil incarnate, but at least you didn't do that." He paused, considering for a long, long moment before continuing. "When you talked, you talked to me. I might not have always liked what you said, but you said it to me. ...And you didn't fuck off when I told you to." Which most people would have.

She listened, and as she did, a few things clicked into place for her. And, after a few long moments of silence, she nodded. "Alright. I accept that." she said. That made sense to her. That, she could get. Could grasp, and it made things a little less messy. It certainly didn't clear everything up, but it gave her something. "So, you have me around, because I make you feel like a person, and wouldn't go away?" she asked, just for clarity. "And that makes me unique."

If she could go with that, so could he. It set things more back on an even keel, at least. Meant he didn't have to delve any deeper into vulnerabilities he didn't want to explore. He shrugged. "Well, makes you uniquely fucking annoying, at least," he joked, giving her a rare non-pissed look, a smile behind his eyes, if not actually making it as far as his face.

She looked back at him for a moment, and a faint little half smirk touched her lips. "Yes, but you like that about me, sweetheart." she said in return, tone matching his. "Besides. If you didn't have me around, you'd be really bored." she added, drawing in a breath and letting it out slowly, wondering at the way she was feeling better now. Goddamnit, she didn't want to feel better. Like they'd just had a huge fight and made up now. People who did that were people that...yeah she wasn't going there.

"Because my life was empty before you walked into it," Brett said, dryly, though the humour didn't entirely die from his eyes. He'd let go of that well of anger, he knew. He should work on picking that up again. He needed that, he always had that - it was safer with that. He didn't have to deal with things, but her and her fucking questions. No matter what he gave her, she thrw something else back at him until suddenly humour seemed to be the safe fucking option - and when had that happened anyway? When had stopping fighting seemed the right thing to do?

"Not empty." she said, shaking her head. "Just a lot less entertaining." She drew in another deep breath, and let it out slowly, trying to get rid of a lot of the tension in her frame. Which...was going to take more than a few deep breaths. She'd need a bath later. But that was later. She tilted her wrist and looked down at it. At the watch, that seemed to have shattered their equilibrium. If they'd ever had one to start with. It had already been flawed, but...this seemed to have heavily knocked things askew. She might lose it someday. Or it might get broken. She wondered if that would put things back the way...she was going to think that they should be. She'd thought he'd be happy to not have to take care of her. She'd not dealt with the idea well. He'd...he'd actually tried to fuck off, hadn't he? That was sinking in late. He'd wanted to fuck off because she didn't need him to tell her when to take her meds anymore. Hm. "So, in the spirit of things that are entertaining." she started, looking back at him. "I'm making something to eat. You're going to have some. I promise I'll try not to burn it this time."

Brett looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "You're making it sound like I don't have a choice in this..." he pointed out. But, he was arguing less than he normally would, though he decided that was because of the way she'd put it. She'd phrased it right. It wasn't her doing him a 'favour' - and she still hadn't acknowledged he couldn't feed himself. Even when he'd brought that up, she hadn't bitten. Not really.

"You don't." she told him, starting to cross back towards the kitchen, and as she got closer, she noticed a kind of heated smell. Annnd she'd really left the burner on. It was sitting there, nothing on it, glowing red. Awesome. So, the plan was now, next time she decided to have a huge fight with Brett, she needed to not be in the middle of anything that could start a fire. She looked at the pan on the off burner, and saw that she'd already started a sandwich. Right. She'd been looking for something, he'd told her to take it off the burner first. She'd been looking for....a spatula. Okay. So, leaving the kitchen door wide open again so he could come talk to her while she did this--if he was going to do that, she went rifling through drawers. "It'll probably be less toxic than anything anyone else in this house makes."

"Well, that'll be an offer I can't refuse then," Brett said, his stomach, which had largely been neglected and ignored over the last few days winning out over everything else. He stayed back from the kitchen door, near enough that he could see her, but far enough back not to be freaked by the enclosed space.

She found what she was looking for, and went back to the stove, putting the pan back on the burner. "It is." she said. "So...was that your first experience with the scientists making someone an example for no reason? Or, at least, reasons we don't actually get yet?" she asked. Since his experiment had been different from hers. She knew that a lot of the psychological fuckery that they'd been put through on a regular basis wasn't the case for him and everyone in D.

"Yeah," Brett agreed. "They didn't really do that kind of thing with us. Poor bastard - wonder what he did. I mean, it seemed kinda out there and random to be actually random, you know," he added, settling into the fact that, apparently, they were going to have an actual conversation, which he generally didn't do. Hell they generally didn't do that, not really, but something had to give here, after everything. This seemed like fairly safe ground, which was probably screwed up - but then again, what wasn't?

"Yes, it did." Eris agreed, flipping the sandwich in the pan over a little too soon, before the first side was done, but she was paranoid about burning it, so she was making damn sure she didn't. She was having a similar mental 'huh' moment. Because it did, in fact, seem like they were going to have an honest to god conversation. One with words and had nothing to do with either one of them. "In my experiment, they liked to make examples of people. Like if someone was fucking up a lot. Or if someone was being really selfish or something. So, I suppose, in a way, they were trying to promote togetherness, in the most fucked up ways possible. But then again, they also set the Captain up to murder my ass so, let's not ever say that they're consistent." she continued. "But with all the christmas shit around, and the way he was found...there's got to be a connection somewhere. It's far too random to be anything else. We would have rewards days, where everyone would wake up with a present, but they didn't go full on psychotic theme with the house to do it."

"So, this is something else? Then again, they ran five experiments on different, what? Themes? Someone out there has too much imagination," Brett said, rolling his eyes, watching her cook. Hey - it was going to be his food, he was vested in making sure she didn't fuck it up.

She flipped it again, and did slightly better on that side, so she went to grab a plate, so she could finish this one without burning it. "Seems like it. Though I couldn't say what. And who knows what they're trying to do. I mean, they've shoved everyone into different households for seemingly no reason. They deemed it appropriate to put Everett in a room on the same floor as me, even. I don't know how the other houses are set up, but..." she shrugged one shoulder. "And now this with the gifts and the decorations." she continued. "And one poor bastard who had his nuts frozen off. I would imagine there's a reason, even if we don't know what the fuck it is."

"But this one's like a sick joke?" Brett suggested. "Between you, me, the rest of them - maybe they were waiting to see who'd break first." He had been going to joke about who'd kill who first, but he was well aware that there was a 'been there, done that' here. Sick joke indeed.

"They like that too." Eris said, flipping the grilled cheese over again, and deciding if she did anything more to it, she was going to fuck it up. So, she put it on the plate she'd gotten out, and then hunted up a bag of chips she'd seen earlier. Bringing them over to him, she held them out, thinking about something to drink. "Do you want milk or what?" she asked. Because she didn't know. She knew there was milk in the fridge, but she didn't know what else might be lurking inside the confines of the fridge. "And they could be seeing who'll break first, but I'm not sold on the idea that people here aren't already broken. Unless they're going for screaming crying padded room breakdowns." she said thoughtfully. "Or, start scooping people's brains out with a melon baller breakdowns."

"You heard about that other experiment?" Brett asked, taking the grilled cheese and shaking his head that, no, he didn't want milk. "The one where almost everyone died? 'Hell house' was how it was described to me." Not that he knew that much more than the very basics, but he'd read the journals, kept his ear to the ground, bitched with one of the people who got out alive. He knew some.

"No, I haven't. But then, I haven't really been looking at the journals that much." If at all. She went back over to make herself a sandwich too. "What happened there? Beyond 'almost everyone died'." she asked, glancing back over at him as she made her things, keeping her eyes on him as they spoke. Had their weird conversation. Like they were actually talking. It was...interesting. Still kind of trippy, but interesting.

"I don't know details," Brett admitted. "Met this woman in the grocery store and she was all 'you don't know shit about my pain' about it - so either she was a fucking drama queen, or whatever they went through was pretty damn bad," Brett allowed. He got the feeling it was the latter though.

She flipped over her sandwich again, sort of half losing track of what she'd been doing. One side was a little dark. Oh well. "You managed to get yourself into a conversation with someone, and they immediately hit you up with 'you don't know my pain'?" Eris asked, sounding amused, and she shot a little half smirk at him. "Or, she just bludgeoned you over the head with it without the conversation part? Because generally speaking, darling, you don't get yourself into many conversations. Especially not about respective levels of pain and suffering."

Brett rolled his eyes. "It was the day after things went to shit - I was getting supplies, she wanted to know what the fuck was going on. I didn't realise she'd only just arrived in town and basically called her a fucking moron. Then I asked what experiment she'd been in and... Hell house," he summarised for her. "And I talk - sometimes," he told her. Which, fine, that had an add on of 'but only when I can't avoid it'.

She got her sandwich off of the pan, a little worse for wear, and decided she just didn't care. So she shut off the burner, and grabbed a plate, grabbed a can of soda from the fridge...even if it was some crazy russian brand she couldn't read, and she went to sit down on the floor, back to the wall so she could continue her conversation with he who didn't converse. "You talk sometimes." she gave him. "Just not usually unless I prod you into it." Then she paused. "Or we've been drinking." Because they'd talked a lot that day. "So hell house, where everyone died. Sounds...ever think that we were on a sliding scale?" she asked, interrupting herself.

Brett shrugged, biting into his sandwich. "There was a control group - E, apparently," he told her, figuring by now she didn't know. "So... You've got E at one end? Nice, happy, safe, whatever. Then you've got hell house on the other, rocks fall, everyone dies. Then three in the middle. You, me - and the people in isolation. C. Don't know how they'd fit into the sliding scale, but guess it's whatever fucks you up the most, maybe? Nine months spent in a single room..." Not really his idea of a good time. He'd be trying to claw his way out by the end.

"I don't count." Eris said. "But okay, a control group, and one where they pulled out all the stops and decided to play Sleepaway Camp III." she continued, eating her lightly burned sandwich. "Then the one where they had little to no real contact with you lot, but put you through a lot of hell. One where they liked to basically fuck with everyone's head all the time, and there was a lot of contact, and...C...isolation, do you know if people had any contact with them? Or what happened with them?" she asked. Because no, she didn't know. She didn't read the journals. She sure as hell wasn't going to write one, and after her initial type of post? She was done with that. It wasn't like she cared about anyone else in town.

"Fucked if I know - just know what I've heard," Brett told her - just because he paid attention didn't mean he was out and out asking questions. He read the journals, every day, but he rarely, if ever, commented on them. Someone would have to say something really fucking stupid to get him to do that. "Oh, wait, no - there was some conversation about some guy putting up entries in that one about his travels or some shit. Anyway, apparently people in their experiment could read them. And another guy was saying he always signed his posts or something - so I think maybe they could communicate some of the time. But, being realistic, and knowing the fuckers and what they do and can do? I'd say that if they're putting people into isolation? It's gonna be pretty fucking isolated."

Eris didn't say anything for a long few moments, setting her grilled cheese aside and she picked up her soda, but didn't open it. She glanced off towards the dollhouse, not really looking at that so much as thinking about her own isolation. "I can imagine." she said. They'd thrown her in a room, and forgot about her. Oh, save for the occasional things they'd showed her. Or the medication that came twice a day. No actual contact. No voices, no...nothing, really. Just a room she couldn't leave. She glanced back down towards her watch, and was thinking about it in a different light. Like the light that it was just another way for her to be dependent on them.

Brett left it at that, taking a bite of his cheese and turning his attention to eating. He wondered if this was it now - if this was his new home, permanently. Or, at least, as permanently as it could be before they tried leaving town again. Tables were turning - she didn't need him any more, but it was being set up that he needed her - if he was going to eat, that was. He needed her, or he needed to get over his claustrophobia. The question was all about which of those would be easier.

She kept her eyes down on the watch. "Are we leaving again?" she asked. It was better to ask that, than ask if they were okay. Because there was no way to phrase that that wouldn't make her twitch incredibly badly, and she was willing to bet that it would make him twitch a ton as well. But if she asked if they were leaving again, it would be assumed that they were at least back on proper terms. Whatever constituted as proper terms for them. And really, she couldn't have described that even if she'd had a gun to her head. Like she didn't know if it meant they were going to attempt to trust one another again, or if that was off. Or...what. But being she wasn't going to ask any of that, she was just going to have to wing it.

"Not yet," Brett told her, after a moment and not looking at her. She wasn't in any condition to - even if she looked better. He'd want to make sure she was properly better, and in this weather, well, just because they'd had one good day didn't follow that they wouldn't get another blizzard again tomorrow. Sure, they had web access, but 'Russia' was a big fucking place - he doubted they could pin down any kind of local weather.

Yet. Which meant yes, just not this second. Or tomorrow. Which they couldn't anyhow, they needed better supplies, preparations. All sorts of things before they'd be able to. Plus, she wasn't one hundred percent, and she didn't especially think that their more physically capable member of the party should be not really tip top. But she nodded, still looking down at the watch. Still thinking about that other connotation it held. They'd set it. Like they'd just handed her her pills through a panel in a wall. Twice a day. But if they were leaving again, even in some undetermined timeframe...it meant he was going to be there. She looked back up at him. "We'll need better supplies." she said. She had to pause for another long moment eyes on him. "You don't care about what Everett said?" she asked lightly.

"We'll need better supplies," Brett confirmed. "Which means finding out whether they have actually gutted the rest of the town." He toyed a little with his sandwich, considering her question - and actually considering it, not just giving her a stat bitchy retort of a brushoff. "I figure we stay here, we're dead anyhow," he said, eventually.

She nodded, a single incline of her head. Then she smiled at him. "I'd rather make them work for it, at least. Instead of just staying here, where people wake up covered in bells and tied to christmas trees, left to possibly freeze to death." she said. "Plus...not much to do here in town, really." she said thoughtfully. "Kind of dull, as far as towns go." She shrugged one shoulder, then finally opened her soda eyes on him.

Brett finally looked across at her, meeting her eyes. "You'd prefer interesting?" he asked, dryly. He wondered what she'd class as 'interesting' anyhow, but, well, that would be one question too many for him, really - it was already weird enough with the whole 'actual conversation' thing. He wasn't pushing anything.

"I'd prefer to make my own fun." Eris said. "Besides, I'm still figuring out what my version of 'interesting' entails. Strangely enough, it's kind of altered since I was choked to death with a belt. That kind of puts a different spin on things." Just a little. She took a drink of her soda, and rested head back against the wall, eyes still on him. "So...we won't stay." Not long term, anyhow. "...though getting out of this house would be nice. Or making everyone else get out of the house." Either worked, really.

It's amazing how something like nearly dying will alter what you do for fun, Brett thought to himself. Or like, your entire life. "You wonder whether they did that on purpose?" he asked her, pushing that thought away, to go sit in the corner with the idea that he might need her to look after him, to make sure he was still fed. And the idea that she was doing that already anyhow. "The people they put in this house?"

"I don't wonder." Eris said. "They stuck me across the hall from the man who killed me." she said. "I'm really thinking that it wasn't just names drawn out of a hat. Too pat. Hannah's here, with the connection to the Captain. Plus, I wonder if they just stuck her here because she isn't going to send any of us crying from the room." Nevermind that Everett had sent her crying from the house. She was over it. Mostly. "Posy's a complete bitch, with a superiority complex. Then there's you and I." she said, gesturing between the two of them. "Neither one of us is particularly friendly, or has much time for other people in general. They might have put you here with me, just because they wanted to fuck with everything." She was thinking on her feet here, just pondering it out as she went. "Could've worked, too." She shrugged. "Or, Everett could have decided that he just wanted to sneak into my room again, and take me out. Punch my ticket, for good this time. He doesn't seem to want to, but one never knows."

"Fuck with everything?" Brett asked. He wondered if she was aware of their new housemate, had been going to bring her up, but that diverted him as he wondered what she meant by that.

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, love, but had our conversation gone slightly differently, we'd be going our separate ways." she said. "We found a compatibility that's so far had been working out. I'm sure they knew about everything we've talked about. When I told you my name, it was in the church, which I'm sure was wired. And putting me here with people who either knew me or knew of me, they knew there'd be a discrepancy. And, considering part of the way our relationship works is I don't fuck with you, and you don't fuck with me...it was probably only a matter of time. Or maybe they wanted to see how everything would work. Or not work. See who's side you'd take if push came to shove. Or if we'd just call it quits, never speak again, and attempt to find someone else to work out an arrangement with." It was easier talking objectively about it now that it was established for her that they still had whatever they had. that it wasn't gone.

"Correct me if I'm wrong - but we did. Or you tried to," Brett pointed out, slightly unnerved by her reference to 'compatibility' and 'relationship's. He was just about okay with 'arrangement', but even that made him slightly uncomfortable. "Seems to me that you're the lynchpin in all of this, sweetheart. Everett fucking hates you, Hannah's - well, she and her's clearly share Everett's feelings..." Posy had been new and he wasn't approaching himself - she'd covered that, hadn't she.

Eris smirked faintly and fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Why Brett, are you saying that this is all about me?" she asked, putting on a southern accent for it. But then she dropped it. "I don't think so. Yes, there's connections in with me, but not all of them. If it was completely about me, there'd be either more people here, or less." she said. Then she paused. "And I left because I thought you had." she said. "And you just tried again today, by the way." Considering he had. With that little incredibly late-to-sink-in idea that he'd been leaving because he'd decided she didn't need him anymore. Which had her thinking about the watch again.

He had, and he knew he had. He'd decided to go, because he'd been hurt and he hated that. Hated that she'd told him he wasn't needed anymore, hated that he'd hated it, in fact. Hated what that implied and even though they'd cleared up some stuff - possibly the bare minimum of stuff - he still hated what that had implied. "Nowhere to go though, is there, sugar?" he bit, an edge to his tone that came from that hatred and actually had little to do with her, or her words. He looked away again, ignoring the griled cheese that was fast cooling by now.

A frown flickered over her features as she kept her eyes on him. "No, not currently." she said, tone unreadable. "Is that the only reason you've decided to stay then...just...riding this out til you can leave again?" she asked, because his tone, and words...they left things back in a place she didn't like them to be. She'd just started to let herself calm down about them. "Just...there's noplace else to go, so you might as well not be arguing with me?"

"That not why you're still here?" he asked her. But, he also knew what she meant - and they weren't talking about this town, or this house, not right now. "If I wanted to leave, I wouldn't still be here," he allowed, finally, after giving it a long time after the question.

She skipped answering the first question. She'd done enough explaining herself today, he knew the answer, regardless. So, she wasn't going to go answering something he already knew. She gave him the time to come up with whatever his answer might be, because quite a lot rode on it. When he did answer, she thought it over, not saying anything for a long few moments. And, in the end, she wound up not answering at all, she just kept her eyes on him. Trust issues were popping up again. And she had them anyhow. Brett...she was realizing more and more, she had actually trusted. And now she didn't know if she could or not. Hey, that was a sucky feeling. It wasn't good by any stretch of the imagination. It left all sorts of questions in her mind that she didn't even want to look at let alone puzzle out an answer to. Fuck.

"I never left," he pointed out to her, when she didn't answer, irritated that he was explaining anything at all. "I was going to get some air is all. I wasn't intending to completely fuck off." Not like you did. "And if you mean here, now? It's a big fucking house, doll. I'm sure we could avoid each other if that was the plan. And look, still here. Your grilled cheese isn't that good."

She listened, keeping her eyes on him, and just...kind of wondered. Because part of her recognized that him saying that it wasn't exactly for the gourmet food meant that it was for...something else. "Getting some air." she said. She frowned, actually having to think about what he'd done, and how she'd interpreted it. Had he done that? It was probably possible. "Seemed to me like you were taking off, not actually going to deal with anything we needed to, and...leaving." she said. "Was I wrong?" she asked. And it was an honest question. "You implied it didn't matter."

"If I had been leaving, then I would have taken my stuff," Brett pointed out. He could feel it rising again - the argument. It was almost comforting in a way, it was familiar ground. He just had to ignore that little stab of 'not want' that rose with it. "You wanted to talk. I - didn't see much to talk about. At the time."

Eris looked away finally, jaw set. Because she could feel it too. The pending argument. The sniping back and forth. "Well, if you didn't see much to talk about, then that rather implies that you planned on staying fucked off, then doesn't it?" she asked, tone too light. "Because if there was nothing to talk about, then things were just going to stay as is, and as they were, was with you and I avoiding talking about anything that happened, and as far as I was concerned, everything was over." she said. "And you decided, because I didn't need you anymore, because of this stupid little thing." she said, tapping the face of the watch against the wall rather harder than she had to. "You were taking off. And that wasn't for air."

"You were the one who said we were just fucking using each other," Brett shot straight back again. "And last time you tried to leave town, you ended up sick - so that's out as well. So, tell me what you thought there was to talk about, right at that moment." There it was, the anger and annoyance that if he stopped and considered it, he would realise didn't make a whole lot of sense - because they were already talking about the past, about an argument that had happened, discussions that had happened, he was sniping at her about something that had already occurred and asking her for reasons why it shouldn't have done. It was all mixed up, but Brett had been angry at the world for so long now that he didn't always make sense with that.

Eris just frowned at him for a long moment. The answer was where they were going. How they were doing. Things of that nature, and she just...couldn't say it. It was far too close to 'us'. So she had to give herself time to figure out what the fuck she was going to say to that. What she was going to answer. She left her gaze on him, watching his eyes, the anger in his frame, that tension that built up. "Apparently, whatever it was, I was mistaken." she said. Because she wasn't playing this game with him. It felt like the whole morning, they'd been talking, and she'd been telling him more than she ever really wanted to about wanting to be....wanting their arrangement to continue. And he...was doing this.

Brett's jaw tightened and he took a breath, looking away. He knew he was still pissed about a lot of things - it wasn't like they'd really dealt with, oh, any of the issues that were there. Things lingered, mixed up until he probably couldn't say where exactly anything was coming from in the first place. He looked back eventually, his voice tight when he spoke. "We talked, didn't we?" Shouted at each other more like, but that counted in his book. "Was there anything else you wanted to say?"

"We talked, but you don't seem to have--" she started, stopping herself. "Probably a lot of things." she said finally. "But it's rather pointless saying any of them if none of this shit matters to you. If you're going to just fuck off anyhow, or are only around because you can't actually leave for a different location yet. If you're really going to sit there and act like you're entirely fucking indifferent to everything having to do with..." she made a gesture between the two of them. Because she wasn't about to say 'us'.

"With what?" Brett asked. He didn't know what she was getting at here. She was the one that reduced all of this to, what? At best a business proposition? Using. And thought that was normal and okay. Got pissed that he got pissed about it. Like that was all there was to it. He didn't how to deal with that, apart from to write her off like he'd written everyone else off. Wasn't that just par for the fucking course anyhow? And she'd written him off again, hadn't she? Saying he was just going to fuck off - even when he'd told her that he wasn't? No - she knew better. "You've really fucking decided that I'm just out of here, haven't you?"

"Give me a reason why I shouldn't." Eris said. It was short, simple, to the point. "Because you don't add up, Brett. You say one thing, and then completely crash it down with something else. So, I give up. You tell me." she said, sounding tired. That anger had flared up, and things were frustrating, but she was getting a headache now. And she was willing to bet it was going to wind up being something really debilitating. As in spending the rest of the day and night in her room with all the shades pulled and the lights off, hoping no loud noises occurred. "It seems today like you're deliberately trying to make me feel like shit. Or like I'm insignificant, so hey, if that was your goal, well done. But it doesn't really lend itself to anything more than me feeling done with being your punching bag for the day."

"Well - that makes two of us. Because you can't honestly think you..." He broke off, his face settling into a fixed mask. "Look, I get it - you wanted from me what you wanted. What I don't get is why the hell you didn't..." He shook his head again, putting two and two together. "This is all about the fact you just don't want to be alone, isn't it?" he asked her. "Not about..." me. "It's just about the fact that you need someone there, someone you know isn't going to fucking-" he laughed, though there was no humour there. "-Someone who doesn't want to fucking kill you. That it?"

"I can't honestly think I what?" Eris asked, because she didn't have any idea where that sentence ended, and wanted to. She was rubbing at her temple on the right side lightly, eyes still on him and she drew her knees up to rest her elbow on one, making the gesture slightly more comfortable. Not a lot, but a little. She recognized distantly from just her own mental archives of human behavior and all that it was a defensive posture. She ignored that. "Why the hell I didn't what?" she continued, needing to know where that went as well. "And not about what?" she kept going, pretty mystified with all of his unfinished accusations. "There are other people around who don't want to kill me." she said. And, even if it didn't actually answer his question, she did tell him something. Or...re-told him since he seemed to like to forget what she said on things. "I trusted you." She was quiet for a moment. "And I don't want to find anyone else." Even if she didn't know if she could trust him anymore, or even if she ever could. It was possible she'd just flat out been wrong. She was confused enough at the moment to understand that was a huge possibility.

Brett eyed her. "That for a moment you - that you made me feel like I was anything other than nothing to you," he told her. "So - I get it, okay? It's not the first fucking time. Don't worry about it. You made it perfectly clear, all along - you're using me. And fine, you - you trust me. So, that's why you want to keep me around." So why the fucking hell am I still here? Why the fuck am I putting up with this shit? Why am I even sitting here finding my way throguh this? he asked himself. And the only answer he had for himself was that it was because it was complicated.

She kept staring at him as he said that stilling for a moment. "I made you feel like--" she started, stopping herself. "Brett, what the--" And it was just her turn to not at all finish her thoughts. So she started them over. "You know what? I told you the truth, and the first second you got you fucking turned on me, and then treated me like you wanted nothing to do with me ever again. So y'know what? I left, because I didn't really want to face it. You. Whatever. Add on top of that that I woke up to fucking Everett in my room again, and last time that happened--" she stopped. He'd seen her when she'd come back in. Or, maybe he's just looked through her. That was possible. She looked away. "I was in a house with a man who choked me to death and fucked me over permenantly. And he was in my room. And he...and I came back in and the only person around I trusted turned on me at the drop of a hat without even asking for a second fucking opinion. Tell me you wouldn't have bailed. Or that I should have put up with more abuse from you with you not wanting to speak to me even when I tried to speak to you. What was it you said about me? That I didn't fuck off when you said?" she said. "Am I supposed to keep that up indefinitely? Now who's making who feel like nothing to the other?"

"And you told me the truth all along - and if you'd had your way, I would have fucked off a hell of a lot sooner than I actually did," Brett pointed out. "And you know what? You know why I was there? Because I know what it's fucking like. I know what it's like to have a life and to be there and to be in it and have that fucking ripped away from you. I know what it's like to wake up one morning and realise that that? Is gone. Whether you like it or not and without a fucking by your leave, gone. And to know that every day from then on? That life is fucking dead. So yeah, I could look at you and not see her. And I could believe that you were different - even though you were telling me all this shit. Because I wanted to believe that. But... Sure, okay - there was this part of me that was saying, Brett, you're a fucking fool and it's just like she said and what the fuck are you doing anyhow - the part that bought all that you were telling me. And then - when... You just proved yourself right. You know that's what it looked like - it looked like everything you'd told me and I'd just dismissed and you'd even said you didn't understand why I'd dismissed? That that was right. Except, it wasn't - and now you're giving me a hard time about finally buying into what you'd wanted me to believe that I hadn't believed in the first fucking place. And I shouldn't have. I was wrong about being wrong, okay? And you don't think that it fucking bugs the shit out of me that that bastard's upstairs with you? And I can do dick about that? Especially with the fact they move you back up there every. fucking. night? And now even they've put someone in that spare room anyhow? So don't, okay? Just... don't," he told her.

She kept opening her mouth to answer him on things--but he kept on talking. In fact, that was possibly the most Brett had ever said to her in one shot since she'd met him. She was almost sure of it, in fact. There was a lot in there. Some that set her mind slightly less on edge. Some that she needed to note down and remind herself about later. Or try to. But one thing really stuck out, because it had her blinking, looking a little confused, surprised. "It bothers you that he's upstairs with me?" she asked. That kind of...she wouldn't have thought that. She wouldn't have guessed that he even really thought about it a lot. But then, as she was thinking about it, she supposed that he didn't leave her alone with Everett if he did have say. She also was confused about the mention of someone else in the house, but that was soooo not important at the moment to her. It was kind of the tone behind things when he said it. That she was moved back upstairs every night. That...was a whole dimension to things she hadn't seen.

Brett gave her a look, as if she should have cottoned onto this fact a whole lot earlier. "The guy tried to kill you - you think I would be in any way okay with this?" he asked her.

She just kept looking at him, her expression flickering over with a frown and just a look of non comprehension as she looked at him. "I didn't think you cared." she said. Because it was the only thing that came to mind and she wished right after it was out of her mouth that she could take it back. It wasn't said with any attitude to it, it was much more of a purely honest, unchecked statement.

Brett held the eye contact. It was out now, there was no taking it back, after all. "Clearly," he said, after a moment or two's silence. Part of him was disappointed. Even without making it personal, did she not know enough about him anyway for her to know that that would bother him? But, that aside, it was personal, though he wished she hadn't used the 'C' word. And he wouldn't, couldn't confirm that.

She didn't need it confirmed. In fact, she didn't want it confirmed. Because he wasn't meant to care about her. That was part of why things worked--had worked--between them. So, she just...pushed that all aside and didn't think about it. She concentrated on other things instead. Like the fact that aside from the C word and all, she actually appreciated that. She knew that no one had ever felt like that over her that she hadn't manipulated into it. So it was just....something entirely new, that she had never encountered before. "That's---" she started, not even sure what to say there. "New." she ended up with.

Brett looked her up and down, a flash of confusion crossing his face before it retreated, though it remained, lurking behind his eyes. "...Yeah?" he asked, eventually. He didn't know what to make from that. Who the hell, especially at her age and, well - looking the way she did - said something like that anyhow. Again, Brett felt like he was really missing something here.

"Yeah." she said. "People don't...no one's ever...I've mentioned before that most people would like me dead." she said. "And I just...I've never met anyone who..." She was tripping all over her words there. She didn't know how to put it. How to say it. How to even begin to really put it together. But then again...what had he said? That when she spoke to him, she spoke to him? That could be fired back his way, she was understanding now. Possibly late, but she was latching onto the concept. "You said before that when I talk to you, I talk to you." she said. "Anyone who's ever had anything to do with me has only had anything to do with a mirage."

"Some people would like you dead, Princess. Not most, I'm sure," Brett corrected - again. He seemed to be doing that a lot. He didn't really think he'd stop doing that any time soon. And that fucking doctor had never showed, he realised. Even though he'd seen the bitch in town yesterday. Fucking... He'd deal with that sometime. "You built the mirage," he pointed out.

"I did." she agreed. "Still." she said. It was different. And he just...it was her. Or...something. It was true. It had nothing to do with whatever she'd set up, it had everything to do with him, and who he was. And where she knew his roots were. And he would hate the hell out of it if she mentioned it even in the slightest, which was why she didn't. But it was there in the back of her mind. He was a rescuer. He was a hero by choice. By trade. So...maybe it was all that. It all stemmed back to the person he kept insisting didn't exist anymore, but she still knew was there somewhere. Or at least pieces of him were. Maybe that was why she occasionally tried to tell him not to trust her. Because if there were shreds of him still in there...were there shreds of her? She didn't trust herself. "It's...It's just new for me." she finished, not even sure what else to say to that. She didn't have anything more she wanted to, or felt safe saying.

He would never tell her as such, but he found her admission to be depressing - just generally. For her. That life could be that empty - even for him, from him, who didn't count his life for shit, with that statement, hers seemed more empty. Because at least he'd lived. Even if that had been ripped away from him. And he didn't for a moment think that she was being melodramatic. He believed her - possibly it was because she'd never lied to him. She had no reason to start now. As for what to say to her, he wasn't sure. There'd been an admission there without an admission and he didn't really want to take that any further. They were already treading outside his comfort zone. "Sure it won't be the last new experience in your life," he said, finally.

"Well, the last new thing that really happened to me was getting killed, so...as far as new things go, it's only fifty fifty so far with good and bad. So...maybe I'll just wing it from here." she said. Because they weren't only outside of his comfort zone, they were well outside of hers as well. Her tone wasn't sarcastic though. Mostly tired, like she felt. She still had the tension headache flared up, and she rubbed a little more at her temple. Things felt calmer again, though she wondered just how many flare ups they were going to have. If they wouldn't just give up sometime here, or if they'd wade through them. She didn't want to let go. She didn't want to start over. She didn't think she'd try if she had to. She hadn't meant to start anything with him in the first place, it had just kind of...happened. Though now that it was part of her existence, she didn't really like the idea of it going away. Which was fucked up enough. "Did you say someone else is here?"

Brett watched her as she rubbed at her temples and then hated himself for wondering when the last time she took pain meds was. "Yeah, someone else - I heard someone moving next door. I'm figuring if blind girl'd moved upstairs or whatever, she would have made a fucking point of rubbing my face in it, so - yeah, figure, new person." He paused. "You should get some rest," he added.

She knew he was right. The headache was only going to get worse before it got better. She knew them by now, knew how they worked. "I will soon. I'll be...out for the rest of the night." she told him. She'd told him before that she got migraines, and that it knocked her for a full count when she did. So he knew about them, knew they were there, this was just the first time she'd been smacked with one since being around him on a constant basis. "At least." she added on the end there, because sometimes she just didn't even know how long things went on for. It hazed and she lost track of time.

"Then you probably need it more," Brett replied. If she was that bad she'd be out for that long? Then yeah, she needed rest. "Even if you're feeling better - you were pretty bad for a couple there. It's gonna knock you." And her health was a much less touchy subject than most of what they'd edged around today.

She gave him a weak little half smile, rueful in edge. "Yeah. I know." she told him. "I'm still not feeling perfectly better." she admitted. "Just...better enough to feel slightly more human." And she was going to be going right back upstairs to put pajamas back on and try and block out the rest of the world. That'd be fun. And he'd be...down here, concerned that she was upstairs with Everett. She'd stay down here, but...there was the spare room that was no longer a spare room, and his room. which she wasn't even considering. So, he'd just have to worry, she guessed. She started to push herself to her feet, wincing slightly at the motion. She went into the kitchen though to get a few things out of the cabinets, crackers, other food that didn't need to be prepared. Pre-packaged shit that were at least better than energy bars. She brought them out and set them on the table, not saying word one about them.

Brett looked at her, not even glancing at the food, though he appreciated what she'd just done. He took a breath, inhaling deeply, then letting that out slowly before he made a hard decision and spoke. "Water would be good. If there's a bottle," he asked her - or, the nearest he could come to a request, anyhow. The water from the bathroom tasted like shit.

She turned automatically, going back into the kitchen, and she looked through. Then she grabbed a few things for him. She grabbed him a can of soda, two bottles of water, and...some sports drink thing that was blue. She came back out, and set all of those down as well. "Because you might get bored of water." she told him. She paused, then went back and got another bottle of water for herself, because she'd need to take her medication later. when her watch reminded her. Not him. Because he'd be down here. she held the cold surface to her forehead and shut her eyes for a second, before she opened them back up and looked at him. "Play nice with the newbie." she told him, a little faint smile on her lips.

Brett arched an eyebrow and didn't even grace that with an answer. Because she did know him better than that. "Get some sleep," he told her, instead. He was grateful for the different drinks, though he didn't thank her for them, or even really acknowledge they were there. It had been difficult enough for him to ask for something in the first place.

"If you make them cry or shout, it's going to be hell on me." she told him since he'd just given her the arched brow, that light little suggestion of a smile turning into the ghost of a smirk. "And I'll try. See you..." she didn't know when. Whenever her brain stopped feeling like it was staging a medieval rebellion. "When I do." she finished, turning to head towards the stairs, trailing her fingertip along the back of his chair--though as she usually was, she was careful not to actually touch him.

Brett shook his head at that, wondering if their little set to this morning had been hell on anyone else. Nobody had been in to tell them to shut the fuck up, at least - it would have gone hard on them if they had. He let her walk off, figuring that leaving shit right now was probably for the best. He really wasn't sure where all of this left them. He wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to find out.