Marie-Ange and North, backdated to June 28.

[x-tarot.livejournal.com]

Backdated to you know, half a year ago, Marie-Ange checks upon North after he is released from the infirmary.



Carefully maneuvering the clock face into place, David pressed it down carefully for it to set before standing back to admire his handiwork. Wanda had an undeniably good eye for cuckoo clocks. Even if she had the tendency to irreverently break them just to give him something to do while he was away from the office. Bending to reach for the pot of lacquer he had just heated up, he paused mid-action when someone rapped on his door.

It was a little consternating how so many people felt the need to drop in on him these days, although he supposed it was a small price to pay for his last bout of stupidity. So with a sigh, the spy headed for the door, refusing to be bothered by the fact that his apartment was a complete mess and certainly not fit for entertaining guests. There were papers strewn all over his coffee table and couch – work brought back from the office – and his study table was at that moment home to his laptop, another messy stack of papers, a half-restored cuckoo clock and various wood-carving tools and knickknacks. The smell of lacquer permeated the air despite the open windows, masking the scent of the glass of whiskey that had gone largely untouched since he had started working in earnest.

Marie-Ange looked mildly impatient when the door was opened, but not especially so, possibly due to the cardboard box with two paper grocery sacks in it. It looked unwieldy. But nonetheless, she had a half-smile on her face to see that David looked at least somewhat normal. "We cleaned out your freezer, so I am returning all your food." Suspiciously new looking groceries, most of which did not seem frozen.

David picked up on that fact the moment he peered into the sacks, but nodded and relieved the woman of her burdens anyway. “Thanks,” he said with a smile and a look that informed his colleague that he knew what she was up to. Kicking open the door, he gestured for Marie-Ange to follow him in as he walked in and placed everything on the kitchen counter -- the only surface with enough clear space aside from the floor and his bedroom. “What’s in the box then?”

"More food, a week of ridiculous tabloids, and a book on how to use an iPad." Marie-Ange shifted the now mostly empty box onto one hip, and dug the book out with her free hand, showing the title to him with an impish smile. It had the familiar yellow and black cover of the For Dummies series, with a piece of paper taped over 'for Dummies' that said "for people who are ancient and were born before electricity."

“Considerate,” he snorted, plucking it out of her hand with mock exasperation as he idly flipped through it. The iPad Doug had gotten him was in one of his drawers somewhere. Probably. He had discovered word games on the device and it had proven to be exceedingly distracting. The only viable course of action from there was to remove the distraction. “And very much appreciated. Can I get you a drink? Food? Anything to show my gratitude for such diverting entertainment?”

"Tea, if you have it. I spent an hour on video conference." Marie-Ange said, still amused. "I am told there is a game on the iPad where you shoot birds at evil green pigs." she said. "Also one where you use garden plants to fight zombies. I of course, know nothing about this and have not played them at all." She followed North into his apartment, and peered at the half-reassembled clock. "Ooh, a new one."

“Wanda’s,” David explained briefly as disappeared back into the kitchen to retrieve tea leaves along with the necessary pot and cups to steep the leaves in. “You’re not the first to feel the need to supply me with things to occupy my time with. She went at the mechanisms of that one with her powers, I believe.”

He stepped out a minute later with a tray and eyed his coffee table, looking mildly annoyed as he set his handful back down on the counter by the grocery bags. The spy made quick work of clearing the couch and coffee table as Marie-Ange stood by the clock, stacking papers by the side and dropping manila folders face down on top of them. “Make yourself at home.”

"Wanda likes to break things. I let her break down half a wall in my old apartment once because there was not enough light." Marie-Ange explained. "You know, they do make these amazing things called filing cabinets." Her room in Amanda's apartment was no better, but teasing North was fun. "And scanners. You could scan the paperwork and not have piles of it."

“Colour me lazy,” David shrugged dismissively, pouring hot water over the tea leaves and covering the pot. He gestured at the couch with a slight smile. “And old. I prefer handling actual pieces of paper than squinting at a computer screen. Besides, I don’t usually bring this stuff back.” The spy preferred simply living in the office – less of a hassle.

"I quite like paper too, but not for furniture." Marie-Ange settled onto the couch, and pulled one foot underneath her. "No, usually you also do not make yourself sick with powers use and do not accidentally take too many of your pills. What happened?" She had gone back and forth with herself as to whether or not she was going to ask, and came down every time on the side of "Ask now, so that you know for the future."

“Had a little too much to drink,” he said, pouring his colleague a cup of tea and sliding it over to her. “I don’t remember much. But I do remember going through withdrawal in Genosha and coming back here to half a bottle of amphetamines. I sent a pill for a lab exam and it turns out my dealer also managed to obtain pills with increased dosages.” Not that swallowing half a bottle of his old pills would not have sent his body into overdrive and the subsequent shut down. He offered Marie-Ange a wan smile. “Basically, I got careless.”

"Fatigue and several weeks of enforced withdrawal seems to increase one's risk for that." Marie-Ange said, out of not much else to say. It was a reasonable enough explanation. "So now what are you doing? Cold turkey, or are you weaning yourself back onto your pills?"

“Cold turkey,” David said, leaning back into the couch. “Don’t fancy putting myself through that again, if it can be helped. I’d be a liability again if we’re ever in a situation where I don’t have my pills. I’m trying to find an alternative. Remy gave me the number of one of his contacts.” Here, the German man hesitated. “I have not gotten around to calling him yet.”

"Why?" Marie-Ange asked, head tilted slightly in a almost concerned manner. "I cannot imagine Remy would have sent you to someone who was not.. reliable is not the right word, I suppose. Close enough, though, no?"

“Frankly, I do not know if he would be able to help me at the moment. My powers have been… different.” Steepling his fingers, David rested his hands against his stomach as he considered how he should proceed. “Like something has been unhinged. It’s subtle, but I can feel that it’s not… the same.” He trailed off lamely, looking a little exasperated at himself even as he shot Marie-Ange a helpless shrug. It was not like he could express it any better, even in German. “Easier to access.”

"They are accessed when, ah, you are excited or scared, yes? Perhaps you are a little closer to one of those now, all of the time?" Marie-Ange speculated. "I find mine are easier to access when I am tired, because they so often show up when I am asleep. Maybe it is the same for you? You have a little more, I do not know the chemical for fear - the one in the same shot they use for bee stings? All of the time now?"

“Adrenaline. Or ephedrine, whichever the mademoiselle prefers.” David nodded slowly, as though trying to get a taste of her words in his head. “I activated it just by standing too quickly in France. But when I took a caffeine pill several nights ago, my powers showed no reaction. Both times my emotional state was constant – and presumably so were my adrenal levels.”

"Perhaps we need to have Doctor Grey put you in an MRI machine and see what it is your brain is doing when your powers turn on?" Marie-Ange suggested. "I am terrible at science like this. What happens if you go for a run, to get your heart rate up? Does it still not turn on?"

"It does, but erratically." The man paused once more to seek out the right words to use. "It hasn't failed me to date, but at times there seems to be something... more within my mind's reach?" Another vague rise and drop of his shoulders. "Yet still inaccessible."

David issued a frustrated sound, carding fingers through his short hair as he picked up his tea, looking visibly irritated at his stumbling explanation before wiping the expression off his face. "It's not a problem, per se. But something is different. And seeing Remy's contact about it isn't going to help with that. But your suggestion is worth looking into."

"Well, it cannot hurt, and no, I imagine Remy's contact would only have chemical solutions, rather than explanations." Marie-Ange tilted her mug of tea in David's direction in a mock toast. "To powers that make no sense and are beyond the realm of logic, I suppose? Because if nothing else, they make life much harder to predict, even if they are supposed to do the very opposite."

"Cheers," his raised mug answered hers, though he continued mull over the problem in his mind. "I suppose you've been shouldering my local slack while I've been away from the office."

It was more a statement than a question since she was always inadvertantly in the best position among the team.

"Some, but it has been shared, mostly. I am certainly not doing the HR paperwork, but I did take up some of the, as you say, slack, in Europe. Mostly it is maintenance, anything important I would have still sent to you." Marie-Ange explained. "The one military officer in the Russian army wanted to know where you had been hiding such a pretty co-worker though. I fear he may have decided to keep contacting me instead."

"I know the one. Has a constant hankering for young, and pretty things to play with." And most of his intel came from pillow talk than military gossip. David smiled. He liked the man. Even if he was so... Russian. "You're welcome to him, certainly. I hear he's a gentleman. Unless you don't want him to be."

"I would imagine that even if I did, Wade may have something to say about that." Marie-Ange said. "But, as it stands, we need more contacts in Russia, since I gave half our list to Vazhin." Which she would've cringed at saying half a year ago. "If he misbehaves, I will simply pass him onto Doug. Who is possibly actually better than I am at being a pretty young thing. He can be wide eyed and innocent, I simply cannot anymore."

“I’ll do something about it when I have the time to go over there,” David promised. “And I hear our little monkey is not so wide-eyed or innocent at the moment, ja?”

"No, not at all. Especially not so now, but he is a very good actor." Marie-Ange said, with a smirk. "He puts on those little wireframe glasses and a smile and people see what they want from him." Of course, he did that with everything lately, and which of them didn't, after all?

“Aye, but some people are not so blind.” He refilled his tea and relished the slide of cool liquid down his gullet. “And the little one may crack if we allow things to go one as they are.”

"I do not think there is going to be a 'may' about it." Marie-Ange said. "He has been on the verge of it for ages. But, he is not the only one, no? All of us - withdrawal, anger, nightmares, scars... I think Genosha will leave a mark for a long time."

David relaxed back against the couch and shrugged, letting loose a short whistle through his teeth. “What does not kill us…” He offered Marie-Ange a wry smile. “I checked and saw that our psychiatrist is still on the payroll. She will be kept busy for a while.”

"Yes, I think Sofia will be kept in shoes for at least somewhat longer."