TSS: Ellie and Artie
Nov. 12th, 2020 07:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsEllie and Artie meet
Over the years, some of the most blatant "please keep the mansion safe for children" measures had lapsed as the children and teens Xavier collected had grown up. It wasn't overt; just little things like fewer people narking on you if you drank outside. Which Artie was, because the best way to deal with truly fucked up frankenberrycat shit was absolutely public day drinking.
He was also working but fuck, he was a spy. What was the point to being part of a heavily armed aggressive strike team if he couldn't drink at work?
He looked up from his laptop to see one of the reasons for his current drinking walking past. Artie raised a hand and waved, gesturing to the cooler of drinks at his feet.
Zeroing in on the movement to her left, Ellie blinked for a moment - and then blinked again. This place was so fucking bizarre. She shook her head, but sat down near him before signing, Hey, Art. Are you working on the Malaysian thing? Then it occurred to her that the Malaysian thing from her 2020 might not actually be a thing at all in this 2020 and she growled at herself before shaking her head. Wait, nevermind. Goddammit.
Artie shut the laptop with a definitive click and shrugged, signing back, "I might be. Or I might not. You know I can't talk about that kind of thing." What the hell was the Malaysian Thing? He made a note to look into everything he could over there when he was back in the office tomorrow. Tilting his head to one side, Artie asked, "Since when is my sign name Art? We use this." He gestured a snake's tongue forking out of his mouth.
Amused despite herself, Ellie signed, Since I was ten and watched Warehouse13. She shrugged then, looking away from the man next to her and out toward some trees. Uncle Art didn't mind. But I'll address you however you're comfortable. He babysat me a lot when I first came to the mansion.
Artie watched Ellie sign with an intense focus, committing her face, her movements, her accent to memory. He could see Marie-Ange's echo in her movements, and Doug and himself. Fuck. "Your Uncle Art. That man isn't me." He paused and started again, remembering Alison sitting on a playroom floor playing Monopoly with him and Leech and Leong and Nga. "You need to be more careful about what you say to us." Alison had cut the cards, handing a pile to each child to shuffle while she dealt the money. "I don't know what things get us from here to your future but no one, none of the people there are us." She'd defused the argument about pieces by taking the dog herself and Artie had been stuck with the stupid shoe.
"As far as you're concerned, we can't ever be anything but people who kind of look like people you know."
"Do you think I don't know that?" Ellie asked, speaking aloud for the first time. She closed her eyes, squeezed them shut for a moment, then took a breath. "Because I don't. You're not my uncle, they're not my parents, none of you are my friends or family. All of you are dead to me. It's just a little difficult sometimes, since you're all wearing basically the same faces. Except for not-dad, he just looks like death warmed over and that's... well. And not-mom. Glad I missed whatever shitshow left her short one eye."
He waited a moment till she made eye contact again. "If I was the hugging type, I'd give you a hug, but I'm not." Artie sighed and continued, still signing, "Everything you tell us now are things we're going to work on hunting down and killing or stopping so that all the known threats you dealt with are gone. You know that, right?" What kind of promise was that, anyway? We'll kill all the things that fucked you up, hopefully before it happens so you don't happen.
Over the years, some of the most blatant "please keep the mansion safe for children" measures had lapsed as the children and teens Xavier collected had grown up. It wasn't overt; just little things like fewer people narking on you if you drank outside. Which Artie was, because the best way to deal with truly fucked up frankenberrycat shit was absolutely public day drinking.
He was also working but fuck, he was a spy. What was the point to being part of a heavily armed aggressive strike team if he couldn't drink at work?
He looked up from his laptop to see one of the reasons for his current drinking walking past. Artie raised a hand and waved, gesturing to the cooler of drinks at his feet.
Zeroing in on the movement to her left, Ellie blinked for a moment - and then blinked again. This place was so fucking bizarre. She shook her head, but sat down near him before signing, Hey, Art. Are you working on the Malaysian thing? Then it occurred to her that the Malaysian thing from her 2020 might not actually be a thing at all in this 2020 and she growled at herself before shaking her head. Wait, nevermind. Goddammit.
Artie shut the laptop with a definitive click and shrugged, signing back, "I might be. Or I might not. You know I can't talk about that kind of thing." What the hell was the Malaysian Thing? He made a note to look into everything he could over there when he was back in the office tomorrow. Tilting his head to one side, Artie asked, "Since when is my sign name Art? We use this." He gestured a snake's tongue forking out of his mouth.
Amused despite herself, Ellie signed, Since I was ten and watched Warehouse13. She shrugged then, looking away from the man next to her and out toward some trees. Uncle Art didn't mind. But I'll address you however you're comfortable. He babysat me a lot when I first came to the mansion.
Artie watched Ellie sign with an intense focus, committing her face, her movements, her accent to memory. He could see Marie-Ange's echo in her movements, and Doug and himself. Fuck. "Your Uncle Art. That man isn't me." He paused and started again, remembering Alison sitting on a playroom floor playing Monopoly with him and Leech and Leong and Nga. "You need to be more careful about what you say to us." Alison had cut the cards, handing a pile to each child to shuffle while she dealt the money. "I don't know what things get us from here to your future but no one, none of the people there are us." She'd defused the argument about pieces by taking the dog herself and Artie had been stuck with the stupid shoe.
"As far as you're concerned, we can't ever be anything but people who kind of look like people you know."
"Do you think I don't know that?" Ellie asked, speaking aloud for the first time. She closed her eyes, squeezed them shut for a moment, then took a breath. "Because I don't. You're not my uncle, they're not my parents, none of you are my friends or family. All of you are dead to me. It's just a little difficult sometimes, since you're all wearing basically the same faces. Except for not-dad, he just looks like death warmed over and that's... well. And not-mom. Glad I missed whatever shitshow left her short one eye."
He waited a moment till she made eye contact again. "If I was the hugging type, I'd give you a hug, but I'm not." Artie sighed and continued, still signing, "Everything you tell us now are things we're going to work on hunting down and killing or stopping so that all the known threats you dealt with are gone. You know that, right?" What kind of promise was that, anyway? We'll kill all the things that fucked you up, hopefully before it happens so you don't happen.
