@anonymous

[stabilis]

Kind of forward for a first date, I know, but do any of you have access to tech that can give a guy a clean brain scan? Looking for foreign organics, not the chip.

And has anyone tested the limits of the empathy bond? If not, consider this recruitment for some extreme handholding. Also forward, but I promise I'll buy you a drink as soon as I get my allowance.

Comments

[retravel]

[ But is it funnier, with the both of them feeling amused, emotions pinging back and forth, building on each other? Something to consider in future. Regardless, this gives them a baseline to judge all further testing and interactions from now. They're as close to equilibrium as you can get, in this futuristic hellscape. Two types of calm. It all tracks.

At the squeeze, his attention flickers over Johnny's features. Bit friendly there, mate — though that's hard to avoid in this experiment. He ignores the rest of the jokes :') ]

Works for me. It'll tell us something one way or another, even with variable conditions. [ surely feelings apart from the present will slip through, like nostalgia, if the memory proves strong enough. ]

[ He tips his head back, challenging, and his tone turns dry. ] I'll see if I have a vision, then.

[ your idea, so you first!! mr cagey keeps it on brand ]

[stabilis]

[ Predictable. Johnny grins, then he closes his eyes and tries to focus. The amusement tapers off, slowly easing into something else — a quiet buzz of thoughtfulness and indecision. There are a lot of options, and he never said the memories had to be completely personal. Still, the more intense the better, and there's a passing coldness as he sifts through the things he's got locked down. Not a wall, still; just the kind of ruthless disconnect that goes hand-in-hand with compartmentalization.

It's a sharp contrast to the slow swell of emotions that follow: confusion, hope, excitement. Anger, though the confusion's enough to hobble it at the gate. It's looking at the warrant with his brother's face on it for the first time and realizing D'av wasn't dead. Important, at the time. With distance, it's completely safe territory.

He opens his eyes a beat later, expression focused, curious. ] Anything?

[ There's a slight itch on the palm of his right hand. Easy to ignore, though it's getting more annoying by the second. Fitz will feel it mirrored on his, lost in the baseline discomfort of his wound — but building, slowly, the kind of itch that slowly creeps up into a distracting burn. ]

[retravel]

[ With Fitz balanced (as balanced he gets, that is), Johnny leads him down a winding path. Slow to start, with intrusions only of passing interest, boxed up and set aside before Fitz can rifle through them. Johnny's cleverness had been obvious — but the control on display now surprises him. A faint spark at his end of the bond, snuffed by what Johnny soon musters. It's difficult to sit still and accept what comes, knowing that his want to analyse it must transfer, even without an active pursuit of the impulse.

Fitz keeps watch throughout, adjusting his grip as Johnny opens his eyes. ]

A lot. [ at once. ] Feel confused. [ Bit itchy, bit hot, bit off. His features scrunch. ] Sort of — hopeful. Anticipating. Or, ah, cross. Not sure.

[ A look down at their hands, still linked, and then at his palm flat on the table, where his wound smarts, pulling his focus. ]

[stabilis]

[ Johnny's not about to knock anyone for being curious. The need to pick things apart and understand reads clearly in the link, half because it's such a familiar one. Other things that are clear: the discomfort of holding back, the restraint. It's appreciated, if not strictly required. He tilts his head slightly, the impression of a shrug. Cross is a fair and vaguely amusing observation. ] Got it in one. You're not seeing any ugly mugs, though, right? Big jawline, bigger nostrils.

[ D'av, which would be shorthand for an actual glimpse of the memory. Johnny's focus is sharp, genuine interest keeping it on track. He isn't deliberately ignoring the distracting itch on his hand so much as instinctively blocking it out, but that only gets him so far. There's a quick, sharp tug at his skin, like a bite.

The quick inhale and wince is as annoyed as it is pained. He doesn't let go of Fitz's hand, his grip shifting as he lifts his free hand to inspect it, half expecting to find a bug, something — what he finds is a small sliver, shallow, half an inch long. So not a bug bite, probably. Also, he's 99% sure all of the bugs in here are already freeze-dried. ]

What— [ A fresh surge of confusion hits the link, mixed heavily with irritation. It's chased by a spike of something altogether stronger and more abrupt — discomfort, edging close to actual fear, an unhealthy and ill-advised dose of wonder and curiosity — as the small cut expands, skin splitting like it's under an invisible knife. One more second before something clicks into place and Johnny's abruptly releasing Fitz's hand, attention rapt on his own palm. The wound settles just as abruptly. ]