[ If Stephen hadn't prefaced that light-hearted warning/request with the story of his friend's loss, she might have written it off like any other dysfunctional workaholic who doesn't always know when to stop. But she understands now that he really is worried about history repeating itself and, as much as she might not want to, she acknowledges her own often unhealthy habits and how dangerous they could be in certain situations. So, while she matches her tone to his, she does take his words to heart. ]
I promise I won't read any big scary books without telling you first.
[ She can't promise that she won't read those ancient forbidden texts, even with a pile of warning she's still Julia Wicker, but she can promise to give him a chance to talk sense into her first. Hopefully, that can be enough for the both of them. ]
[ There was a reason he'd purposefully phrased it as a headsup, and not a promise me you won't — because the latter would've been an impossible promise for either of them, most likely. So he nods, behind another slow sip of his martini (savouring it and trying to draw it out as long as possible, because he's enjoying the conversation). ]
Good enough. Thanks.
Two minds on a problem are generally better than one, too.
[ Smiling behind her glass, she takes a sip of her own drink, trying to make it last much longer than she usually would. Despite the emotional ups and downs and the part where he was a slightly bloody mess, she's really enjoyed their conversation this evening and isn't quite ready for it to end.
Speaking of... ]
So you're sure containment can actually contain the giant spider monster? Because I really don't want to have to deal with that thing again.
[ Tipping his head back against the chaise again, Stephen lets out a long exaggerated (and exasperated) groan, the unenviable reality of his situation sinking in again now that she's reminded him of it. Welp, there is a whole Situation waiting for him in the basement. ]
The cells are fine — they've contained multiple supervillains with a variety of powers before — but oh god, I'm going to have to extract my sling ring from that creature later. There's going to be gore and ichor everywhere. It'll be like waiting for your dog to vomit up a valuable it swallowed, except a million times worse.
Welcome to the glamorous life of a sorcerer, Julia; sorry it's terrible.
[ Okay, yeah, that's pretty damn terrible. There's no hiding the cringe that morphs her entire expression (probably comically so), and she really feels for the man. Not that she's a stranger to gore and other disgusting things, but it's really never a pleasant experience.
She might regret this next part, but here goes. ]
I can help. I'm okay with gross things. [ Meaning she's thankfully got a strong stomach. ] The test I had to pass to get into the hedge safehouse involved cutting the fat out of a corpse to use in a heat-producing spell so we didn't die of hypothermia. Spider guts seem pretty on par with that.
You did what with a what now? [ He tilts his head, stares at her in some mingled combination of being mildly horrified but also surprised and impressed. He might have had his dealings with hedges, but for obvious reasons, he'd never actually known what their initiations were like. ]
I'll say it again about you as a nurse. The 'strong stomach' part seems to apply.
[ She echoes his earlier words with a smile, more than a little pleased with the look on his face. Not the mildly horrified part, though it's certainly warranted, but the rest... It feels good to impress him, and she's betting he doesn't get nearly enough good surprises in his life these days.
With another sip of her drink, she reaches the bottom of the glass and feels a little sadder for it. She leans forward to set her glass on the table and then gestures to the mess from wrapping his wounds. ]
I should probably clean this up and let you get some rest. Being filleted by a monster seems like it'd be kind of exhausting.
[ At the mention of rest, his gaze drifts to the bedroom doorway at the end of the parlour.
And it's like a spark of sense-memory, and for the first time in a long time — since before the accident, even — Stephen suddenly remembers that delicate balance and how he'd once walked that tightrope with aplomb. Driving a woman back to his place in the Lamborghini, or taking a cab home if he'd already been drinking. Having a nightcap in his penthouse apartment and showing off that glittering floor-to-ceiling view of Manhattan. The conversation winding down and the inevitable push-and-pull of subtle intimations and trying to suss each other out, the unspoken would you like to.
But this isn't that, Stephen, he reminds himself, and so he simply drains the rest of his drink in one fell swoop and sets it aside, too. Rises back to his feet with another sigh and an agreeing nod. ]
Kind of. I'll get some rest, and give you a call later on when we're ready to take out the trash— wake me up if the spider-demon starts rampaging out of the laundry room, but I do think it'll be alright. Those wards are built to hold worse.
[ There's a grateful twinkle in his eye, a fondness in his voice: ]
And I think I said it before, but thank you again. For coming.
[ There's a world of sincerity in those words and a good deal of fondness to match his own and she finds herself not wanting to leave. They don't even have to keep talking, he could go to bed and she could just stay up and read one of the million books in his rooms, listening to make sure he's alright while he sleeps. But she doesn't quite feel like she can offer that yet, no matter how much she wants to, and anything else is... Off the table.
Grabbing the bowl of dirty water and a handful of supplies, she flashes him another smile while offering a playful warning as she moves toward the door. ]
And don't worry, if there's rampaging, you will definitely hear about it. [ Then, with seriousness and yet more affection: ] Goodnight, Stephen.
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I promise I won't read any big scary books without telling you first.
[ She can't promise that she won't read those ancient forbidden texts, even with a pile of warning she's still Julia Wicker, but she can promise to give him a chance to talk sense into her first. Hopefully, that can be enough for the both of them. ]
no subject
Good enough. Thanks.
Two minds on a problem are generally better than one, too.
no subject
[ Smiling behind her glass, she takes a sip of her own drink, trying to make it last much longer than she usually would. Despite the emotional ups and downs and the part where he was a slightly bloody mess, she's really enjoyed their conversation this evening and isn't quite ready for it to end.
Speaking of... ]
So you're sure containment can actually contain the giant spider monster? Because I really don't want to have to deal with that thing again.
no subject
The cells are fine — they've contained multiple supervillains with a variety of powers before — but oh god, I'm going to have to extract my sling ring from that creature later. There's going to be gore and ichor everywhere. It'll be like waiting for your dog to vomit up a valuable it swallowed, except a million times worse.
Welcome to the glamorous life of a sorcerer, Julia; sorry it's terrible.
no subject
She might regret this next part, but here goes. ]
I can help. I'm okay with gross things. [ Meaning she's thankfully got a strong stomach. ] The test I had to pass to get into the hedge safehouse involved cutting the fat out of a corpse to use in a heat-producing spell so we didn't die of hypothermia. Spider guts seem pretty on par with that.
no subject
I'll say it again about you as a nurse. The 'strong stomach' part seems to apply.
no subject
[ She echoes his earlier words with a smile, more than a little pleased with the look on his face. Not the mildly horrified part, though it's certainly warranted, but the rest... It feels good to impress him, and she's betting he doesn't get nearly enough good surprises in his life these days.
With another sip of her drink, she reaches the bottom of the glass and feels a little sadder for it. She leans forward to set her glass on the table and then gestures to the mess from wrapping his wounds. ]
I should probably clean this up and let you get some rest. Being filleted by a monster seems like it'd be kind of exhausting.
no subject
And it's like a spark of sense-memory, and for the first time in a long time — since before the accident, even — Stephen suddenly remembers that delicate balance and how he'd once walked that tightrope with aplomb. Driving a woman back to his place in the Lamborghini, or taking a cab home if he'd already been drinking. Having a nightcap in his penthouse apartment and showing off that glittering floor-to-ceiling view of Manhattan. The conversation winding down and the inevitable push-and-pull of subtle intimations and trying to suss each other out, the unspoken would you like to.
But this isn't that, Stephen, he reminds himself, and so he simply drains the rest of his drink in one fell swoop and sets it aside, too. Rises back to his feet with another sigh and an agreeing nod. ]
Kind of. I'll get some rest, and give you a call later on when we're ready to take out the trash— wake me up if the spider-demon starts rampaging out of the laundry room, but I do think it'll be alright. Those wards are built to hold worse.
[ There's a grateful twinkle in his eye, a fondness in his voice: ]
And I think I said it before, but thank you again. For coming.
no subject
[ There's a world of sincerity in those words and a good deal of fondness to match his own and she finds herself not wanting to leave. They don't even have to keep talking, he could go to bed and she could just stay up and read one of the million books in his rooms, listening to make sure he's alright while he sleeps. But she doesn't quite feel like she can offer that yet, no matter how much she wants to, and anything else is... Off the table.
Grabbing the bowl of dirty water and a handful of supplies, she flashes him another smile while offering a playful warning as she moves toward the door. ]
And don't worry, if there's rampaging, you will definitely hear about it. [ Then, with seriousness and yet more affection: ] Goodnight, Stephen.