Haller & Darcy | Haller has a what now?
Aug. 28th, 2023 09:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsHaller encounters Darcy in the kitchen, and she gives him a little enlightenment about his supposed harem status.
Jim wondered at what point in human history someone had decided jogging should be an officially recognized form of exercise. He'd heard some people liked to start their day with a nice run because they felt it gave them energy. These people, he reflected, probably weren't feeding a twenty-year-strong smoking habit. Or still struggling to recover melanin after a few years in the extreme end of the northern hemisphere. There was a real concern the sunscreen he'd found was fighting a losing battle.
Unfortunately, being an X-Man required a minimum degree of physical fitness even if your powers amounted to standing on the sidelines while you used your brain to hit things very far away. Jim could only imagine the look Garrison would give him if he washed out of a Danger Room program because he had to take more than two flights of stairs.
At least now he was in the air conditioning -- another thing he hadn't had much use for in Scotland but suddenly felt like an absolute necessity. Jim shut the door against the oppressive heat and headed directly for the communal refrigerator and its ready-chilled water bottles.
"Oh hey, if it isn't the mansion's stealth Casanova type." The tines of Darcy's fork scraped lightly against the plate as she speared a piece of omelet, eyes sliding over the man as he rummaged around the fridge. She could see the appeal, although she thought the whole harem thing was coincidence blown out of proportion by gossip. Still, the shirtless image wasn't bad. If she knew him better, she'd whistle, but she had the feeling he'd end up smacking his head on something if she did. The fridge, probably, and that would definitely hurt.
It almost did anyway -- Jim hadn't realized anyone else was in the kitchen. He managed to catch himself just fast enough to turn an undignified jerk into a minor flinch before glancing around.
"Oh, hey, Darcy," he said automatically before he actually registered her words. Once he did his brain considered them, then returned a minor error message. He frowned and cracked the seal on the water bottle. "Sorry, what was that?"
"Stealth Casanova? Y'know, your whole rumored harem thing. You don't really give me that vibe, but I can see the appeal," she replied, winking at him over her glass of juice. "There's some turkey bacon in the microwave if you're hungry, bee tee dubs."
Jim never found out if that first sip of cold water was as refreshing as he'd hoped it would be, because it had barely touched his tongue before he sprayed it across the kitchen floor.
"My rumored what?" he choked, wiping at his chin and suddenly extremely aware he was talking to a woman he was not particularly well acquainted with while standing shirtless in robust air conditioning.
"I think you're supposed to swallow." Darcy's tone was definitely amused as she watched the emotions playing across his face. No wonder Warren liked this dude. She nudged a chair out with a sock-covered foot. "Take a seat, let your brain catch up. No spitting on me though, I don't allow that even with an extra charge."
oh my god Jim hastily turned to grab a paper towel, knowing in his heart this wouldn't fool anyone when from the feel of it even his ears were bright red. Wiping his face allowed him a few seconds to compose himself before he turned back to Darcy.
"Okay, le-- let's back up," he said, attempting to handle this like the adult he ostensibly was. "What are you talking about?" A dark suspicion hit him. "Have you been talking to Warren?"
"Always, he's my bro. He also showed me his texts to Jean about you." Darcy pushed her plate to the side, resting her hands on her chin as she regarded the man in front of her. "Not just him though. I hear there's a whole group chat where your dating prowess is being discussed. Sooraya, Jean, the Jones woman... not gonna lie, that last one wigs me a bit, but people recover from trauma in their own ways. I just remember not wanting anyone that might possibly get in my mind near me after Laurie."
"The Jo- Jessica?" A mental image of Jessica Jones floated to the surface of his brain. Until that moment Jim hadn't realized it was possible for a concept to be negatively erotic.
"Okay, yeah, I need to sit down," Jim said as he moved for a chair. Then, because his brain was struggling to process these revelations in digestible chunks, "What group chat?"
"I'm not in it, people just say things to me." In this case, it'd been Maya's text and a brief flash of his name with a group text header, although she tried to keep her thoughts carefully quiet about that. "You're adorably confused about all of this. The blushing is a good look for you."
And of course she had to say that just as he'd gotten it under control. hahaha I want to die
"I mean, yeah, I'm confused," Jim said, ignoring the last comment. Maybe doing so would starve it of power. "Mostly because I assume this group chat involves people who have met me. Where is this even coming from? I feel like I'm losing my mind."
"Please don't take this as an insult, but I had similar thoughts when Warren suggested you were hooking up with Jean and Sooraya. You don't give off–" Darcy paused for a minute, trying to phrase things politely. "Player vibes, for one. But I also get the feeling you maybe just don't date much? You might just be very careful about trying to keep your personal life separate from the madness that goes on around here, so feel free to tell me to get lost if I'm overstepping too much."
Jim threw his hands in the air. "Thank you!" he exclaimed. "No, you're not overstepping, this is exactly why I feel like I'm losing my mind. I don't date, I'm not looking to date, and if I'm putting out any kind of vibe I thought it'd be that one. I've been working on it for years. I mean" he gestured vaguely, aware he might be just slightly punchy from the combination of absurdity and endorphins, "I wear chinos for god's sake."
"Oh hon." It was sympathetic. "Wearing chinos doesn't make you undateable. You have a cute butt, the tapered fit works for you." She shook her head, sitting back in her seat. Honestly, had he not seen some of the men out there with partners and spouses? The bar was low. He at least practiced basic good hygiene and wore clean clothes with minimal overpowering cologne, which made him miles better than some of the men she'd worked with in the past. "But you're mysterious from returning after a long absence, and you know how this place gets with a sniff of hot gossip. Attractive man with attractive women visiting his rooms? All of them presumably single? It's obviously a sex thing until it's obviously not a sex thing."
Maybe he should have let himself hit his head on the refrigerator. After all, if he'd done that there would have been at least a chance he'd have knocked himself out. "Jean slept at my place one time," he muttered as the capillaries in his face made a spirited bid to burn themselves out. "Sooraya's a friend. And on top of everything else going on with her, Jessica literally has a traumatic brain injury. What the hell is wrong with people?"
"Ah. The fire?" She was glad her vibes about him weren't wrong, given how dangerous that could be in her line of work. "I'm glad. About Jessica, that is. You didn't give me the vibes of someone who would encourage someone that's been through recent, significant trauma, even if you did want to date them. Of the three, I thought the rumor about you and Sooraya dating might have the most merit. You've known each other a long time, yeah? Kinda gives kids next door that grow into more feels." She reached out and patted him on the hand. "It'll calm down once people get used to you being back, I'm sure."
He wasn't so shy he couldn't accept a friendly pat, at least. It wasn't as if his utter inability to process the situation was Darcy's fault. With his free hand Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt a significant headache coming on. "I would've hoped people wouldn't need to get used to me being back to not assume I'm the kind of person who'd take advantage of someone whose brain was run through a psychic cuisinart," he sighed. Then a thought hit him. "Ah, damn . . . Jean-Phillipe asked me about Sooraya, too, but that was weeks ago. I thought it was just a random thing. People still think that?"
"I don't think they're thinking about that part, just that you're spending time with her, she's been seen in your suite, that sort of thing. I'd personally go straight to counseling or something similar. Being the only person in the place she recognizes but isn't having weird memories about, maybe." Darcy waved a hand dismissively. "And probably similar with Jean, someone saw or heard something, took it weird, gossip happened. Sooraya there was mention of hand-holding in the kitchen? She doesn't seem to be the type that does casual touch very lightly."
Jim groaned. Suddenly things were starting to make sense. Slowly, very slowly, he let his forehead thump against the tabletop.
"She does that when she has something to say to me in private," he explained into the highly finished woodgrain. "My telepathy doesn't pick things up naturally. Physical contact is how she gets my attention to initiate it."
Darcy let out a low whistle. "That makes so much sense. Now, the big question. What are you going to do about it? That's a decent tactical advantage and you probably don't want everyone knowing the two of you can communicate like that."
"I . . . don't know." Jim sighed and ended his forehead's intimate relationship with the table. "I mean, obviously if it comes up I'll just explain the situation. But what am I supposed to do, make an official announcement that I'm not sleeping with three different women? That's a Streisand Effect waiting to happen. And besides, Warren would somehow interpret that to mean I'm nailing them even harder."
"And it would be mortifying. I'm not sure you'd survive it. Might as well just let people think what they want. It'll die off eventually. Maybe not the stuff with Sooraya, but sometimes that's just a hazard of two presumably straight people of different genders being close friends. I meant more whether or not you were going to let the three of them know that the gossip is floating around so they're not surprised with it."
"Oh." This was a valid question. Jim rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Well, Jean and I discussed it because -- wait, you said you saw Warren's texts? Yeah, that. So that's not a problem. Jessica--" he had a brief, out of body experience to Warren's last visit and tried to imagine the effect relaying that to someone with a traumatic brain injury and super strength might have "--probably has enough going on right now without dealing with that. Like you said, it'll probably die off." He paused. "I need to think about Sooraya. Because you're probably right, people might keep misreading it. But at the same time it's not like she's doing anything wrong or inappropriate. It's just the vibe I'm putting out. Apparently."
"I highly doubt you're actually doing anything inappropriate either. It's just... people are like that sometimes. They see two friends that are easy around each other, and forget that thinking two people being cute as a couple can get weird fast when gossip becomes involved. I'd probably want a bit of a heads up, but mostly because I don't love being surprised with gossip about myself. I don't know her well enough to guess." Darcy shrugged. Poor dude looked like he needed a hug, a stiff drink, and possibly a bunker to hide out in.
"Yeah." Jim ran a hand through his damp hair with a sigh. "Thanks. I do appreciate the head's up. I'll figure something out. I'll--" He froze midway out of the chair. "Oh, god. If I leave this room, is Warren going to show up at my office tomorrow asking how long we've been hooking up?"
"If he does, just tell him all inquiries about your social calendar need to come through me," she replied dryly. "And if he asks me, I'm just going to tell him I see the appeal. Granted, not for me, I think I'd probably eat you alive. But for someone nice, or someone that needs some nice? Yeah, I can see it. I don't think it'll make you feel better, but that'll be at least two women he thinks you've banged that he hasn't."
Jim really had no other response to that than a mumbled "thanks" and a quick retreat. It had been nice of her to ask him rather than assume, and even nicer to take the time to talk him through it. He'd have figured it out eventually, but given how oblivious he was to this sort of thing it would have probably been some time -- like, say, Christmas. So he certainly owed Darcy a thank you.
He did still very much want to die, though.
Jim wondered at what point in human history someone had decided jogging should be an officially recognized form of exercise. He'd heard some people liked to start their day with a nice run because they felt it gave them energy. These people, he reflected, probably weren't feeding a twenty-year-strong smoking habit. Or still struggling to recover melanin after a few years in the extreme end of the northern hemisphere. There was a real concern the sunscreen he'd found was fighting a losing battle.
Unfortunately, being an X-Man required a minimum degree of physical fitness even if your powers amounted to standing on the sidelines while you used your brain to hit things very far away. Jim could only imagine the look Garrison would give him if he washed out of a Danger Room program because he had to take more than two flights of stairs.
At least now he was in the air conditioning -- another thing he hadn't had much use for in Scotland but suddenly felt like an absolute necessity. Jim shut the door against the oppressive heat and headed directly for the communal refrigerator and its ready-chilled water bottles.
"Oh hey, if it isn't the mansion's stealth Casanova type." The tines of Darcy's fork scraped lightly against the plate as she speared a piece of omelet, eyes sliding over the man as he rummaged around the fridge. She could see the appeal, although she thought the whole harem thing was coincidence blown out of proportion by gossip. Still, the shirtless image wasn't bad. If she knew him better, she'd whistle, but she had the feeling he'd end up smacking his head on something if she did. The fridge, probably, and that would definitely hurt.
It almost did anyway -- Jim hadn't realized anyone else was in the kitchen. He managed to catch himself just fast enough to turn an undignified jerk into a minor flinch before glancing around.
"Oh, hey, Darcy," he said automatically before he actually registered her words. Once he did his brain considered them, then returned a minor error message. He frowned and cracked the seal on the water bottle. "Sorry, what was that?"
"Stealth Casanova? Y'know, your whole rumored harem thing. You don't really give me that vibe, but I can see the appeal," she replied, winking at him over her glass of juice. "There's some turkey bacon in the microwave if you're hungry, bee tee dubs."
Jim never found out if that first sip of cold water was as refreshing as he'd hoped it would be, because it had barely touched his tongue before he sprayed it across the kitchen floor.
"My rumored what?" he choked, wiping at his chin and suddenly extremely aware he was talking to a woman he was not particularly well acquainted with while standing shirtless in robust air conditioning.
"I think you're supposed to swallow." Darcy's tone was definitely amused as she watched the emotions playing across his face. No wonder Warren liked this dude. She nudged a chair out with a sock-covered foot. "Take a seat, let your brain catch up. No spitting on me though, I don't allow that even with an extra charge."
oh my god Jim hastily turned to grab a paper towel, knowing in his heart this wouldn't fool anyone when from the feel of it even his ears were bright red. Wiping his face allowed him a few seconds to compose himself before he turned back to Darcy.
"Okay, le-- let's back up," he said, attempting to handle this like the adult he ostensibly was. "What are you talking about?" A dark suspicion hit him. "Have you been talking to Warren?"
"Always, he's my bro. He also showed me his texts to Jean about you." Darcy pushed her plate to the side, resting her hands on her chin as she regarded the man in front of her. "Not just him though. I hear there's a whole group chat where your dating prowess is being discussed. Sooraya, Jean, the Jones woman... not gonna lie, that last one wigs me a bit, but people recover from trauma in their own ways. I just remember not wanting anyone that might possibly get in my mind near me after Laurie."
"The Jo- Jessica?" A mental image of Jessica Jones floated to the surface of his brain. Until that moment Jim hadn't realized it was possible for a concept to be negatively erotic.
"Okay, yeah, I need to sit down," Jim said as he moved for a chair. Then, because his brain was struggling to process these revelations in digestible chunks, "What group chat?"
"I'm not in it, people just say things to me." In this case, it'd been Maya's text and a brief flash of his name with a group text header, although she tried to keep her thoughts carefully quiet about that. "You're adorably confused about all of this. The blushing is a good look for you."
And of course she had to say that just as he'd gotten it under control. hahaha I want to die
"I mean, yeah, I'm confused," Jim said, ignoring the last comment. Maybe doing so would starve it of power. "Mostly because I assume this group chat involves people who have met me. Where is this even coming from? I feel like I'm losing my mind."
"Please don't take this as an insult, but I had similar thoughts when Warren suggested you were hooking up with Jean and Sooraya. You don't give off–" Darcy paused for a minute, trying to phrase things politely. "Player vibes, for one. But I also get the feeling you maybe just don't date much? You might just be very careful about trying to keep your personal life separate from the madness that goes on around here, so feel free to tell me to get lost if I'm overstepping too much."
Jim threw his hands in the air. "Thank you!" he exclaimed. "No, you're not overstepping, this is exactly why I feel like I'm losing my mind. I don't date, I'm not looking to date, and if I'm putting out any kind of vibe I thought it'd be that one. I've been working on it for years. I mean" he gestured vaguely, aware he might be just slightly punchy from the combination of absurdity and endorphins, "I wear chinos for god's sake."
"Oh hon." It was sympathetic. "Wearing chinos doesn't make you undateable. You have a cute butt, the tapered fit works for you." She shook her head, sitting back in her seat. Honestly, had he not seen some of the men out there with partners and spouses? The bar was low. He at least practiced basic good hygiene and wore clean clothes with minimal overpowering cologne, which made him miles better than some of the men she'd worked with in the past. "But you're mysterious from returning after a long absence, and you know how this place gets with a sniff of hot gossip. Attractive man with attractive women visiting his rooms? All of them presumably single? It's obviously a sex thing until it's obviously not a sex thing."
Maybe he should have let himself hit his head on the refrigerator. After all, if he'd done that there would have been at least a chance he'd have knocked himself out. "Jean slept at my place one time," he muttered as the capillaries in his face made a spirited bid to burn themselves out. "Sooraya's a friend. And on top of everything else going on with her, Jessica literally has a traumatic brain injury. What the hell is wrong with people?"
"Ah. The fire?" She was glad her vibes about him weren't wrong, given how dangerous that could be in her line of work. "I'm glad. About Jessica, that is. You didn't give me the vibes of someone who would encourage someone that's been through recent, significant trauma, even if you did want to date them. Of the three, I thought the rumor about you and Sooraya dating might have the most merit. You've known each other a long time, yeah? Kinda gives kids next door that grow into more feels." She reached out and patted him on the hand. "It'll calm down once people get used to you being back, I'm sure."
He wasn't so shy he couldn't accept a friendly pat, at least. It wasn't as if his utter inability to process the situation was Darcy's fault. With his free hand Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt a significant headache coming on. "I would've hoped people wouldn't need to get used to me being back to not assume I'm the kind of person who'd take advantage of someone whose brain was run through a psychic cuisinart," he sighed. Then a thought hit him. "Ah, damn . . . Jean-Phillipe asked me about Sooraya, too, but that was weeks ago. I thought it was just a random thing. People still think that?"
"I don't think they're thinking about that part, just that you're spending time with her, she's been seen in your suite, that sort of thing. I'd personally go straight to counseling or something similar. Being the only person in the place she recognizes but isn't having weird memories about, maybe." Darcy waved a hand dismissively. "And probably similar with Jean, someone saw or heard something, took it weird, gossip happened. Sooraya there was mention of hand-holding in the kitchen? She doesn't seem to be the type that does casual touch very lightly."
Jim groaned. Suddenly things were starting to make sense. Slowly, very slowly, he let his forehead thump against the tabletop.
"She does that when she has something to say to me in private," he explained into the highly finished woodgrain. "My telepathy doesn't pick things up naturally. Physical contact is how she gets my attention to initiate it."
Darcy let out a low whistle. "That makes so much sense. Now, the big question. What are you going to do about it? That's a decent tactical advantage and you probably don't want everyone knowing the two of you can communicate like that."
"I . . . don't know." Jim sighed and ended his forehead's intimate relationship with the table. "I mean, obviously if it comes up I'll just explain the situation. But what am I supposed to do, make an official announcement that I'm not sleeping with three different women? That's a Streisand Effect waiting to happen. And besides, Warren would somehow interpret that to mean I'm nailing them even harder."
"And it would be mortifying. I'm not sure you'd survive it. Might as well just let people think what they want. It'll die off eventually. Maybe not the stuff with Sooraya, but sometimes that's just a hazard of two presumably straight people of different genders being close friends. I meant more whether or not you were going to let the three of them know that the gossip is floating around so they're not surprised with it."
"Oh." This was a valid question. Jim rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Well, Jean and I discussed it because -- wait, you said you saw Warren's texts? Yeah, that. So that's not a problem. Jessica--" he had a brief, out of body experience to Warren's last visit and tried to imagine the effect relaying that to someone with a traumatic brain injury and super strength might have "--probably has enough going on right now without dealing with that. Like you said, it'll probably die off." He paused. "I need to think about Sooraya. Because you're probably right, people might keep misreading it. But at the same time it's not like she's doing anything wrong or inappropriate. It's just the vibe I'm putting out. Apparently."
"I highly doubt you're actually doing anything inappropriate either. It's just... people are like that sometimes. They see two friends that are easy around each other, and forget that thinking two people being cute as a couple can get weird fast when gossip becomes involved. I'd probably want a bit of a heads up, but mostly because I don't love being surprised with gossip about myself. I don't know her well enough to guess." Darcy shrugged. Poor dude looked like he needed a hug, a stiff drink, and possibly a bunker to hide out in.
"Yeah." Jim ran a hand through his damp hair with a sigh. "Thanks. I do appreciate the head's up. I'll figure something out. I'll--" He froze midway out of the chair. "Oh, god. If I leave this room, is Warren going to show up at my office tomorrow asking how long we've been hooking up?"
"If he does, just tell him all inquiries about your social calendar need to come through me," she replied dryly. "And if he asks me, I'm just going to tell him I see the appeal. Granted, not for me, I think I'd probably eat you alive. But for someone nice, or someone that needs some nice? Yeah, I can see it. I don't think it'll make you feel better, but that'll be at least two women he thinks you've banged that he hasn't."
Jim really had no other response to that than a mumbled "thanks" and a quick retreat. It had been nice of her to ask him rather than assume, and even nicer to take the time to talk him through it. He'd have figured it out eventually, but given how oblivious he was to this sort of thing it would have probably been some time -- like, say, Christmas. So he certainly owed Darcy a thank you.
He did still very much want to die, though.
