maskormenacelogs | [ closed ] touch my body

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[ closed ] touch my body

WHO: Louis Bloom and Walter White
WHERE: Walt's place
WHEN: The night after Walt makes his drunken post about being in Hell.
WHAT: Experiments and favors.
WARNINGS: Some body horror on Lou's part otherwise tba.

People were complications. There were times when Louis had put stock in others and by and large found himself disappointed. Nevertheless, he'd come to a point where he had to concede that he couldn't accomplish this current task through sheer willpower. In that case he hoped that he wasn't putting his trust in the wrong person. It helped that he hadn't committed to anything yet.

He sends a message to the pharmacist as requested and, after receiving a confirmation, drives his taxi halfway before getting out and teleporting the rest.

Which is why, when he knocks, he looks ghostly pale in compilation to having the sunken eyes of a man who kept quite a few late nights. But he looks clean in his pressed, soft blue shirt and slacks. His longer hair is slicked back to his skull.

And when the door is answered, he has a wide, almost tentative smile.

"Thank you again for seeing me, Walt. I really appreciate your time. I'm Louis Bloom - I don't think I ever properly introduced myself. May I come in?"

He's already got one foot through the door. A hand extends as well.

"How are you feeling?"

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Walt had been preparing himself for this from the moment he woke up in the morning for work. Between his overindulgence of alcohol leaving him feeling horrible to his paranoia over the fact that Louis Bloom seemed just a little too curious about him -- it had been a rough day. But he managed to do what needed done and still had enough time to head over to Jesse's and borrow one of his guns. Having a firearm tucked into his pants made Walt feel a whole lot more secure and ready to face whatever was about to happen than he had beforehand.

So when Louis's message came, Walt told him he was ready. And whenever Louis got there, Walt was waiting to open the door because he would rather greet him than let any of his other housemates have the honor.

He was dressed in an oversized jacket and T-shirt (necessary to hide the gun) and a baggy pair of jeans (borrowed from Hank). But even though Walt had gone through death, admittedly this guy kind of looked like death on its feet. It jarred him a little when he came face to face with Louis. Before he could even react to what Louis was saying -- Louis already had one foot in the door.

Walt stepped to the side to let him in and closed the door behind him before taking the offered hand, giving it a shake. "A pleasure to meet you officially, Louis. And I'm feeling a bit tired, but otherwise good, you? And please, make yourself at home. Do you want something to drink?"

Louis moved quickly, though his thoughts and his words moved even quicker. He steps further into the room, his wide-eyed, unblinking gaze sweeping over his surroundings like headlights, or maybe a child's curiosity. Walt may notice the index finger of Lou's left hand is in a splint.

"I came here for your ideas, Walt, not your refreshments." He didn't say so unkindly, but it was nonetheless straight-forward; almost cheerful, even, like the warmth you saw when the horizon was a sliver of liquid fire, but you were still standing in the cold. If what Louis heard didn't sound promising, he was going to want to turn and walk back out of the door.

"Is this where you're comfortable talking?"

Edited 2015-02-21 05:34 (UTC)

Walt's eyes veer to the splinted finger, and he wonders over it for a moment. An act of clumsiness? Or something else? Maybe a fight and that is the only visible damage. Walt doesn't comment, though. He's sure Louis will give him the answer without saying it just through the way he acts. And it's just as well that Louis is straight forward and to the point. It cuts out a lot of the unnecessary chit chat. With a simple sweep of his hand toward the rooms in the back, Walter starts walking to the hall. "My bedroom."

He would rather not do this around others if he could help it, and his bedroom was the best place to get privacy in a house full of roommates. He leads the way, opening the door and walking inside. The room itself is standard -- comfortable but not overly large. Walt hasn't put in enough care into cleaning it, either. But although there's a bit of clutter here and there, his saving grace is that he's been at Hank's more than he's been in his own home. There hasn't been enough time for the room to get really atrocious.

Walt pulls out the desk chair and gestures for Louis to have a seat before he goes over and sits on the edge of his bed. "So tell me a little more about what you need done, and please be as specific as possible."

Louis moves to the chair, placing one hand on the back. However, he does not sit until Walt does.

"Did they tell you about the nanites when you arrived here, Walt? Nanites are these... microscopic man-made organisms, responsible for the tattoos on our wrists, among other things. Imagine - a busy swarm of intelligent insects working away, with you as the hive."

You got that, Walt? Louis opens his arms palms up, smirks, with a little laugh. What can you do?

"Now imagine you feel them, day in and day out. Because that is what you're working with, Walter. So. Can you help me?"

Walter tilts his head. "So you wish to mute feeling them. I think I can help, but I still need a little more information. Is it because of a power that you're feeling them? Or is it something to do with the very nature of your body that's causing this?"

Jesse warned Walt that there were people who had the ability to steal powers, and while Walter wants to be cautious, a part of him thinks it might be for the best if his powers were gone. So the risk isn't too much of a risk. He has nothing to really lose and only knowledge to gain.

"Why don't you tell me how your treatment would differ between them?"

No one knew what Louis could do with electronics yet. He's not sure he wants to give that information away yet, either, especially not to someone who is quite obviously playing things close to the vest. He was feeling like he'd given enough away - his patience was wearing thin.

Walt's hands twitch, ready to use Jesse's gun if need-be. But his face remains calm as he speaks. "From my understanding, we all have powers given to us upon arrival -- and I guess they're most likely due to these nanites..." Walt hadn't really wanted to talk to the representatives when he first got there. As they tried to explain the situation, he heard a ringing in his ears and nothing other than the fact that he had been given a second life. But he had the file, he did his reading.

"My power is fairly limitless when it comes to the chemistry of the human body as long as I understand what it is I'm doing. If what you're feeling is chemical, I may be able to shift the balance so that you don't feel it. But if it isn't chemical, I'm sure I could mute it using your bodies own natural chemicals -- numbing sensation without necessarily interfering with your neurological function. No negative side effects, no risks. But using this ability seems to take a lot out of me, and I'm not sure I could achieve something permanent until I either gain more stamina...or I have a better understanding of what it is that makes your body work."

To hear it from the network, or the resources compiled there, the nanites were not, in fact, responsible for their powers. However, they did seem to help with healing and Louis simply did not have the prowess to command them to leave his body in the days he wouldn't have cared about that.

That was information he didn't see fit to share just yet, however. He was much more interested in hearing the chemist describe his abilities.

"Can you feel them? In you."

Lou tilts his head a bit, curious.

Walt shakes his head 'no.' "But then again, I never really gave it much thought. Nothing feels any different than normal." Except his cancer. There seemed to be no symptoms, no ill feelings. His lungs are clearer than they had been in years. But he doesn't want to focus on that.

"I can't even make myself feel them, unfortunately. My ability only works on others."

A curious pause.

"What do they feel like?"

Lou's fingers twitch atop his knees.

"Sometimes like static. Mostly like bedbugs. I can feel them behind my eyelids right now."

And, for what seems like the first time since he got here, he blinks. Smiles tightly.

"My theory is that, with the right treatment, they can become as insignificant to my senses as blood cells. I'm really hoping you can help me with that. As far as our options are concerned, I'm thinking a numbing agent is the way to go. And as I'm sure you've noticed, that's not the only problem I have that can be helped that way."

He moves to stand, less menacing and more frenetic energy. Ready to go.

"How do we do it?"

Edited 2015-02-22 07:21 (UTC)

Walt's hand slides back when Lou stands -- the uncomfortable weight of the gun is digging into his hip, begging to be drawn. But he doesn't make a grab for it. That's for only when there are no other options and he's absolutely sure Louis is going to hurt him. Right now, Lou is just a man who wants to get the ball rolling. Walt can appreciate the straightforwardness, even though patience is key when it comes delicate scientific procedures.

But Lou is gung ho to get started, so the consequences are on him if there is something he's not telling Walt.

Walt pats the edge of the bed beside him. "Come sit. I have to be making physical contact with you to make it happen, and the more relaxed we are, the better the results."

That's the second time Lou's seen those hands get twitchy. It was clear to him that Walter was scared or else very wary of him, and that was understandable, he supposed. Given what he'd just been told, however, Louis would have thought Walter's hands were the greatest weapon he had right now in close proximity.

Louis eyed the place on the bed that had been patted, then moved another second later. He soothed his shoulders down as if submissive and sat beside the older man, fingers shaping the ends of his own knees like he was physically reigning himself back in. Truth be told, he didn't know how well he could relax when he was trusting someone else, but he did know his communicator was recording, and his cab was only a jump down the street. If the effect of whatever treachery Walt might do wasn't instantaneous, then he had options. And that certainly helped.

He watched the other, silent and expectant, a hint of an anxious smile around his lips.

Walt sits there, too. It's just one of those awkward moments where he needs to go for it, and so he does -- reaching out his hand and gently resting it on one of Lou's. He doesn't start right away, figuring he should give a verbal warning before he does.

"I'm going to feel things out and see what I can do. Let me know when you start to feel the effects..."

He closes his eyes, even though he doesn't really have to -- it just gives the illusion of him digging into the deep recesses of himself to make this power happen. Walt feels his way through Lou's nervous system and first focuses on Lou's eyelids where he claimed he felt the nanites, focusing on causing Lou's body to stop releasing the sensation chemicals that were sending the message to his brain. Shut down the code, and the message won't be delivered. The nanites would still be there doing their thing, but Louis wouldn't feel them if it worked.

But this is only a small, localized area. Walt still has a whole body to navigate.

The small bones under the skin of his hand may have twitched under the touch, but Lou remains still. Even as Walt shuts his eyes, he may feel the younger man's gaze.

Which twitches a little as it feels like his eyelids go numb. There's a thin, shaky puff of breath between his lips.

"My eyes?"

It's a strange feeling. His eyes shutter to be sure he's got the control over them.

"Is it too much? Or not enough? I can try and adjust the sensitivity. And maybe, given time, I will be able to pinpoint exactly which nerves are sending the signals you're feeling for very specific results."

In other words, hopefully Louis didn't come here hoping for a quick and permanent fix. Chemistry is a delicate science that takes time. "You should still have complete range of motion, and the sensory nerves on the outside aren't effected. Meaning, if you touch your eyelid, you should be able to feel it."

"I think..." Lou lifts his free hand, shutting his eyes to pass fingertips over the lids, "It's just right. Keep going."

A beat.

"Please."

What he was feeling now, that sort of numbness, was just the new absence of the nanites such as they were. His receptors were blocked to them. Lou had to wonder if his awareness towards the communicator in his pocket would also go.

Opening his eyes once more, he dropped his hand to his knee once more, only this time pivoting it so that he could see the faint glow of his tattoo. Move, he told the lot there, focusing. Nothing happened, though he could still feel them clustering there. It was like trying to catch fireflies with only a mental picture of a jar.

Move, just a little. There. The 'd' at the edge of REGISTERED hazed, just a little.

Walt is pleased with the answer. But as he focuses on carefully spreading this numbness throughout Lou's body, a bead of perspiration forms on his brow and he has to concentrate more intensely to get the results. Maybe he should have brought Jesse along simply for his power boosting abilities.

But he couldn't. He didn't know what Lou was capable of or what he would do. Things could still turn south for all Walt knew.

He gets about three fourths of the way through before he can't continue anymore. Walt's hand slides off of Lou's and he's left panting and gasping for breath -- winded and weak. "I'm sorry. I tried to finish, but it's too much. We can wait for a bit and I can try again, unless that was enough to suit your needs for now?"

Lou feels his head clear first. The flies that had been buzzing in his throat seem to have finally escaped, leaving him swallowing with a strange sense of relief. The feeling works its way down his spine, clearing out the hive in his chest and forcing an involuntary shudder. Wow. He knew he found it extremely irritating ( the first night he actually managed to drift off found his arms and neck bleeding; he started wearing socks on his hands after that like some mongrel with mites ), but he had no idea how bad it'd been until it was gone.

So he was disappointed when the relief stopped just short of working down his extremities. His stare on Walt is steady, unblinking, expression blank. He doesn't answer for a few seconds, as if the force of his gaze would magically grant him what he wanted, or as if there was a glitch somewhere along the line in his system.

"How about I get you something to drink, Walter? Water?" Lou stands, glancing around the room for anything that looks like a towel or a rag. He doesn't seem worried; if anything, he's reassuring and objective, as if this were something he'd expected and trained for. There's even some simulation of warmth. "Something to eat? I'm just guessing, but you look like a diabetic whose blood sugar just hit the floor. You should probably lie down."

"Some water would be good." Walter nods. It's a weird sensation, the strength completely zapped from him. He has no idea where it even starts or how to replenish it. Perhaps a doctor could give him better insight. But Walt believes it must somehow be a combination of inexperience and the cancer.

He's well aware that Lou's angle is selfish here. He wouldn't be fussing over him if Walt had finished numbing Lou's body before ending up in this predicament. But still, after being by himself for months and having most everyone hope the cancer killed him even before that, it's admittedly nice to have someone care enough to make sure he got his strength back.

"Maybe some orange juice. It could very well be a matter of low blood sugar. Everything is in the kitchen. I'm sure no one will mind if you help yourself."

It is absolutely a move toward his own gain, but isn't everything? Lou tends to think in those terms.

He returns with what the fridge can offer him - soda and water and half a sandwich.

"Try this first," He offers, cranking open the soda and offering it to Walt as he sits on the bed beside him. A dishtowel is in his hand too, from the linen closet. He was versed enough in the amenities of government housing, being just as subject to it as the other man.

Walt looks up at Lou's return and a shaky hand accepts the soda -- something he tended to avoid when he had his cancer back home, but he didn't worry so much about it now, taking a sip of the carbonated beverage. It's funny, Lou tending to him like this. And even funnier that Walt still has the gun he intended to use on this man if he had turned out to be a threat tucked very neatly into the back of his pants.

Who knew what would have happened if Walter's technique hadn't turned out to be useful. But given what he's seen of Lou so far, he's sure Lou would have simply left and that would have been the end of it. Lou doesn't seem like a guy who enjoys wasting any time on something that isn't self-serving.

"Thank you." He utters after a moment. Selfish or not, Lou is taking all of the efforts to get Walt back his strength as quick as possible. He appreciates it. "I've read that there are things that will null our powers, but I wonder if there are things that can do the opposite." Walt looks over at Lou for a moment. "You seem to be a very resourceful man. Maybe you can find this out."

And if there are strengtheners -- maybe Lou could even get his hands on one. After all, it serves a purpose for both of them if this relationship were to be on-going. Walt might have had his own personal strengthener with Jesse and his powers, but he needs a back up plan for when Jesse isn't around.

Lou didn't waste his violence where it wasn't useful, either. While it could be cathartic, he appreciated his control more.

In a way, he liked tending to Walt while the man was in a clearly diminished state. After all, what was more powerful than having the decision to help or forsake someone who depended on you, then fulfilling their need at little trouble?

Lou takes the soda out of the way once Walt has quenched his thirst.

"You're welcome," He says, accepting the gratitude. His bright eyes shine a little more with the barely veiled request. He offers Walt the sandwich now, reaching with his free hand to dab a bit of sweat off the other man's brow with the cloth. It was almost tender.

"I read a lot, that's all. I'm on the network all the time."

It was a useful suggestion, anyway. He would look into it. Now, whether or not he'd convey the information to Walt and repay the favor, that remained to be decided. Would one good turn deserve another?

"And there's no substitution for hard work. The more you push yourself, the stronger you'll get."

Edited 2015-03-16 06:46 (UTC)

Walt looks at Lou and raises a brow. Somehow he believes this guy is on the network all the time, and he's probably not alone. There are sure to be others who do the same. That's why Walt decides it's probably best to avoid the network where he can. Fortunately, it's the younger ones that seem to use it as a means of communication more than people his age.

He takes a bite of the sandwich before looking back at Lou. "While it's true that practice will probably increase my strength -- there will always be limits." He eats a little more before he sets it aside. His stomach isn't really settled enough to just keep shoving food into it. But he does feel a bit better. Whether that's the break from using his powers or the carbohydrates in his blood is anyone's guess.

Walt straightens himself upright, looking over at Lou who is being a little too methodical with his care. "I'm ready to try again." So he hopes Lou will stop dabbing his head like a nursemaid.

See now, how motivating could a little contact be? Lou had already started to suspect Walter of being similar to himself in temperament; being doted on, from the right person, might be a welcome thing, but from a stranger would spur him along quite well. There was the difference, however, in that Lou might kindly tell someone to take their hands off of him before they broke their wrists; clearly Walter was a little more polite, or else tactful, given his more compromised state.

Lou does sit back and immediately take the cloth away. His eyes shine. "Are you sure?"

But he's setting that cloth aside, his free hand beginning to extend between them.

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[ closed ] touch my body

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