Cammie & Kurt: Keeping an angry scorpion occupied with beer.

[x-scorpion.livejournal.com]

To get her away from the journals, Kurt lures Cammie over for beer. Given her mood, this is a good thing. Backdated.

The door was open, which was a good thing because Cammie wasn't in the mood to knock and a closed door would have been something to kick down. And she didn't need to be hurting her bad leg again. On the other hand, it didn't exactly quell the urge to strangle someone. That she just was keeping happily confined to her imagination. She walked in, a cloud hanging over her expression, "You said there'd be beer."

"And beer there is", Kurt said tranquilly, emerging from the kitchenette with two cold bottles in hand. "How are you feeling?"

Murderous was putting it generously, "I want to strangle her," her being Yvette, "Then I'm going to drive into New York and beat the shit out of that Haven freak and then for the sheer fucking irony of it, I'm going to find a way to electrocute Janet," Cammie said, taking a deep forced breath, "But you know, murder bad."

"You are going to do none of those things, my girl", he told her firmly. "Yvette meant only to help and you know it, even if she did not ask first. And Janet was thinking only of Yvette's feelings. As for Haven... let us deal with her."

"If I actually was going to do any of that I wouldn't come in to tell you first. I would've made my first stop after walking away from the fucking computer," Cammie said, crossing her arms over her chest in a gesture that was more a one person hug than stand-offish, "You generally don't announce murder plans."

"Around here, you would be surprised", was the dry response as he walked over, holding out one of the bottles. "Here, this is yours."

Cammie took the bottle, it was cold. That was something to concentrate on other than the wrong-color of the hand that grabbed it, "Well, I generally don't announce murder plans. Of course I don't think I've ever walked into a situation coldly planning to kill someone either." Coldly planning to kill herself, maybe. Especially right after she had manifested. It just had never worked.

"And I am glad you have not." He held his now-freed hand out towards her, palm up. "You would not be the girl I know if you had. Perhaps not so bad, but... different."

"Yeah," Cammie said, her voice miserable, "I'm different now. Just too smart to take off and go to Vermont. Or too sane."

"Cammie, come here." He hugged her without hesitation, when she did. "I meant what I said in the bar last night. If this turns out to be permanent, and you want to start a new life somewhere, I will help you. I would send you to my brother, if you liked, he would take you in."

"I have a hard enough time getting along with the people I do know, I'm not tossing myself at your family," Cammie said, "I should show you the email Crystal sent out, apparently it IS permanent."

"I see." He frowned slightly. "How does Crystal know that?"

"She went and talked to this person. It's not like the name didn't come up in all the medical interviews we had to sit through," Cammie said, finally trying the beer. Her nose wrinkled. That was... different. Not bad, but just different. Not like it normally tasted, but that was like that for everything the past few days.

"And this Haven herself told Crystal it could not be undone? It is rare to find someone who genuinely cannot undo the effect of their powers, when it is something like this." He'd got her the best German beer he could find.

"Apparently. Whoever thinks this is a great thing to do to people is fucking sick," she said, another swig, "Everything tastes so different. It's fucking weird."

"She may have meant well too", he said quietly. "But at the very least, she should have made sure all four of you truly agreed to what would be done."

"Look, I can get where some people would want something like this," Cammie noted, "But not me. Maybe right after everything happened, but that would've been only so I could shoot myself without being afraid of what my blood might do to whoever found the body."

"You were used to who you were", he agreed. "And to have it all change without warning... but you would not do anything like shoot yourself now, would you?"

She sat down on the couch and shook her head, "No, what's the point? It doesn't change anything, but you couldn't have explained that to me four years ago. What really pisses me off, for this to make any difference at all it would've had to been before I killed someone. Which, you know, sort of took everyone by surprise."

"Exactly. And those who can do things like this are few and far between. Perhaps fortunately." He sat down next to her.

"It's a hollow fucking gesture," she continued, taking a swig of the beer, "Like all this person wants to do is make themselves feel good. If everyone else is happy, great. That's damn amazing. Good for them, you know. But it's not me. You can't flip a switch and have me be like I was when I was a kid. It doesn't work like that."

"No one is, Cammie", he told her gently. "Especially not those of us who had a hard manifestation. But if this is really irreversible, the only thing left is the future."

"Yeah, but I can't even decide what to do for college - other than get the general crap out of the way. I don't think about the future, the future doesn't exist," she returned. More or less what a couple of the things Logan had her read said, and she agreed. It was one of the appeals of fighting. It was easy to get lost in all the crap, but the second you had a fist speeding at your face the world slowed down to that one moment. It also wasn't like she had a huge amount of options. Even if she wanted to go back to her parents, she wouldn't. She had visited once or twice and there was only so much she could take of people crossing on the other side of the street or finding any excuse to either run away or stare blankly. "I guess the past isn't supposed to either, but it seems a lot more real."

"Of course the past exists. It made you who you are. The future, now... that is what who you are creates. You will have to think about it sooner or later..."

"Yeah, well, tonight I don't want to," Cammie returned, "The future can bite me. Hell, so can the past."

"For tonight, both can not exist", he conceded. "Until you are ready."

"Thanks," Cammie said, sinking back into the couch with the beer. The taste of which she was getting used to, different wasn't always bad. "Really."

"That is what I am here for."

"Yeah, someone has to put up with me," Cammie returned, shooting him a twisted grin.

"And I seem to be rather good at it." He smiled back, crookedly. "Even if you cannot get along with my girlfriend."

Cammie laughed, "I don't get along with most of the population of the world. That hardly makes her special."

"But you must never let her hear you say that!" he warned, laughing and pleased to have made her do so. "Monet is always special, particularly to me."

"Eh, she had to be to someone," Cammie joked. There could have been malice there, but there really wasn't. She was hardly the right person to chide others on choice of relationships.

"Indeed." He eyed her bottle. "Would you like another?"

She held out the bottle, "Beer me."

He took the empty and headed for the kitchen, coming back with the whole remaining twelve-pack. "To save getting up every time."

"Well, if the other night is any indication, I won't be able to soon," Cammie said, tonight that was a good thing.

"But when I tell you enough, it is time to stop", was the firm response. "Agreed?"

"Fuh-ine," she said, over-exaggerating the word, "I suppose since I'm still a little rusty on the being able to separate tipsy from smashed."

"Rusty would imply you had ever known how", he said, amused. "Which would be difficult when I believe last night was your first time drunk."

"Technicalities," Cammie said. "Purely technicalities."