maskormenacelogs | Oh Mr. Clown, Oh Mr. Clown

[Wally very seriously considers grabbing a nearby bucket and scooping water out of the dunk tank to throw at those punk kids, but they're donating and it'll probably get Annie in more trouble than him, so he holds off. For now. Besides, those kids have shit aim.]

I really don't care what he does, I'm not worried about him. I'll talk to who I wanna talk to.

[ She's a little surprised by that. Annie finally looks back down toward Wally, away from the teens throwing at the target. she doesn't care what they're saying - they're kids. Probably her age, maybe even older, but just kids. ]

You actually want to talk to m-

[ A thwack as the teen boys finally manage to get a ball through the opening cuts Annie off, the platform beneath her collapsing. She lets out a startled sound, hand coming up to pinch her nostrils as she fell down into the tank to the cheers and high fives of the teens responsible. She pushes off the bottom of the tank, twisting around and kicking toward the ladder that leads up to the back platform. Annie breaks the surface, coughing as she does, pulling herself up in a cascade of water and interrupted thoughts. ]

Edited (spacing is difficult) 2014-08-22 07:21 (UTC)

[The kids are still jeering at her and laughing while she's pulling herself up out of the water and wiping her face, so Wally -finally having had enough- steals ice from a nearby vendor and starts chasing the kids and pelting them with melting ice chips until they leave.] Oh my god you guys are annoying! Go away!

[They throw them back, Wally gets in trouble for stealing ice, and by the time he makes his way back to Annie she's probably already climbed back into the dunk seat. He leans against the fence with a sigh.]

That looked refreshing. Maybe I should volunteer. [except not because kid you have a temper]

[ Sitting in the dunk seat, and even kicking her legs, if the small, slower circles she moves each leg in, toes pointed down to touch on the ripples of the waters, consists of kicking. Her bangs are plastered to the side of her head, but the dripping has mostly tapered off for now. She almost looks amused. ]

I think part of the requirement for volunteering is not chasing down the people paying for the privilege to send you into the water.

[ Comes out almost conversational, while she adds in: ]

Nice aim.

[ Still not sure why he's letting idiot teenagers bother him that much - you know. In spite of being technically part of that demographic. Themselves... ]

[THAT'S WHY THEY BOTHER HIM no really mostly he doesn't want people hanging around when he's trying to have a serious talk]

Thanks.

[He leans against the fence again.]

And yeah, I actually want to talk to you. I've been talking to you this entire time.

[ He is choosing to have a serious talk on a fairgrounds it's kind of not their fault entirely mister. Annie doesn't say anything for a beat, reversing the direction of the circles she's making with her feet. ]

I've noticed.

[ Yes. Revealing thing to say, Annie. ]

I'm - just not sure why.

Because I thought we were friends.

[Wally drags a hand through his hair.]

And...I believed you when you said you regret it. And everyone deserves a chance to try and change themselves. [He sighs and hangs his head.] I dunno, that might be easier for me to say because I'm not from your world and I didn't see what you did or what happened because of it. But it's not like that's going to change, and I can't just...it doesn't feel right. That's all I got.

[ It's that word again, and she - goes still, really, fingers curling into her palms and turning into fists. I thought we were friends. ]

I'm not good at friends.

[ She admits, at least blunt about how she's... failing on a lot of fronts. ]

At least you're not trying to forgive me. You're right... you can't know. You won't. It's better that way.

[ The won't centering around this world, or any comparative happenings here, though there is no real comparison. She looks down at her hands, fisted in her lap as they are. ]

Thank you for giving me the chance.

[ It's a softer statement, as genuine as saying she's not good at friends. A chance is what they'd been asking for - a chance given knowing all that they've done, hinting at what they're capable of harming, when pressed. Acceptance, so to speak, and that chance, given freely, because given under duress it's meaningless. ]

Sure. [Wally sniffs and rubs his nose.] Not like I'm doing it as a favor or anything. I...wanted to be friends with you anyway.

[ Sit there awkwardly for a moment. The first time anyone had written that at her, she'd been as awkward, redirecting conversation immediately after. It'd been part of what made her realize she's letting the same kind of fictions happen all over again, that the precarious nature of the lives she and Reiner and Bertholdt were living needed to topple, if they ever wanted a firm base to grow from.

Change has to start somewhere. Even if she's not exactly talking with that person, and even if she's fairly sure she's burned mor than just that bridge, fire has a purpose. Not the one Lunatic believes in, not that kind of cleansing, but ever forest has to be touched by fire to stay healthy enough to keep growing. To make room for the new. ]

I...

[ She doesn't actually end up being able to think of what to say, falling back into an awkward silence. ]

Um.

[ ... Speechless, really. She looks the opposite direction, ostensibly shoving her damp bangs behind an ear again. Tendrils still cling to her cheek, making it an almost fruitless effort. What does she even... Nope. Still not sure what to say to that, so she sticks to awkward silence. Blushing very faintly, because she's... embarrassed at herself. This is the opposite out of how any of her plans had really calculated. Minako and Kay were... different. They had a kind of blind idealism that doesn't feel as influenced by reality as the reactions she'd had from the other people she'd realized she was getting close to, which makes her at a loss to deal with Wally being candid. ]

[Wally's not an idiot. He acts like an idiot, yeah, but three quarters of that is acting on impulse, letting his mouth run before his brain has a chance to process. He's passionate, he knows it, and he doesn't stop to think before he speaks because he doesn't think he should have to. What's wrong with feeling strongly about something?

But he got a really strong wake-up call when he had that fight with Artemis. He'd been so angry and hurt and upset, and he'd lashed out and demanded answers instead of stopping to consider that she told him, knowing he was going to be angry. Dick does the same thing. All his friends do the same thing. They know he shouts and stomps his feet and allows himself to be hurt and angry immediately, without a barrier between him and the person he's felt has hurt him. He did the same thing to Annie.

He also knows that she's not having a hard time grasping the concept of friendship because of him. Whatever happened to her, whoever made her do what she did -because Wally doesn't buy that "I made the choice to not die" explanation, not when it stinks of a choiceless situation- they're the ones responsible for this. Them and whatever else made her think she had to kill all those people, both directly and indirectly.

It's not that simple. He's going around in circles.]

...you sure you don't have a crush on me? 'Cause you're turning red.

[Wally knows she doesn't -now, anyway- but it's the best way to break the ice. A joke. Make 'em laugh. Everybody loves a guy that can make 'em laugh, and if he doesn't look so deathly serious then she doesn't look so deathly serious, and then they both can move on instead of being in this awkward push-or-pull that they've been going through for the past few weeks.

Damn it, he just wants to keep the friends he's got here while he still can. Is that too selfish?]

[ To articulate the things she knows aren't right with how she's lived, and how she's been raised, or taught, or the father she loves means allowing everything to come crumbling down. Her life falls apart under that speculation, and she knows it, and she knows that the person left on her knees at the end is someone who isn't ready to face everything on her own.

The person who loves her, the one who made her what she is, the one who had believed so strongly in the ideals he tried to mold her after, the ones she found worthless, the ones she wasn't enough of a monster for in the end, the ones he'd lost, holding to her, telling her to come home... she can't face that. Can't face that and know she'll be left alone with the ghosts of the past and her own isolation if he's not there waiting for her, if she even survives.

How here, she's finding a version of herself, a motivation and chance to learn and find anything worthwhile in the clutter chaos. A bit of clarity. She's wanted that clarity for years, and not the realistic kind, the logical kind, the one that doesn't touch her heart. Annie has wanted friends, but known better than to let herself get too close to the people she'd have to betray in the end.

And when the whole world hates you...

Her tiny, insular world, compared to all these others, these galaxies, in some cases, these breath-taking expanses... Annie swallows against the lump in her throat. She feels her chest constricting, like she's in a vise again, to the point where it feels harder to believe. She doesn't notice at first that she's tucked her chin down, or that the way the world swims before her eyes isn't just because she's looking down at the dimpled, light-stricken surface of the tank waters. She's crying. Not much, and not overtly - no break in how she breathes, because she's having trouble breathing at all - just tears that overflow as something like relief and anger clash, alongside an emotion even harder to bring herself to regard: hope.

Just a chance. If she fucks things up anyway, that's on her. It'll always be on her. But maybe, where she doesn't need to live knowing that she may need to be part of the undoing of the people around her, she can afford to learn a little about what it means to be friends without the countless walls and restrictions to the sparring field.

Wally's sense of humor doesn't jive with hers - this isn't the sort of thing she can laugh about, though she can recognize it, appreciate that he's using an absurdity he knows as absurd as a kind of segue away from whatever it is she's feeling. Breaking the ice.

But she can't laugh. It means too much, and she doesn't know what to say, so Annie keeps her face averted, trying to make herself breathe, and she allows herself to cry, a small shake of her head the only denial that Wally doesn't need to know the fallacy of his own statement.

It's all too much. And she is, among so many other things, just sixteen. This's overwhelming, and it's total, and there's no shame in that overflow of emotion, just a need to keep it unremarkable in this place where she has no privacy. Come on, Annie. Breathe. ]

[Shit.

Shit, she's crying.

Oh shit, did he make her cry?]

Annie, [Wally says, but what's he even going to say? Obviously him opening his mouth was a bad move, considering she's sitting up in a glass tank and bawling, Annie, the girl who's barely shown more than three emotions on her face the entire time Wally's known her. He's got no idea to do until he has this truly stupid idea.

So naturally he goes with the stupid idea.

He climbs the fence, ignores the volunteer in charge of the booth yelling at him to get back over, yanks himself up the ladder over to the tank and just jumps right into the water. When he surfaces,] Oh my god that is cold! [he paddles over to her seat and grabs the edge, wiping his face and shoving his hair back from hanging in his eyes.]

Hi! Wow, this is brisk!

[ It's humorous after a fashion, and she might have found it amusing, after ridiculous and stupid, in a different mental place. As it is, Annie registers the sounds of Wally's antics before she registers fully what he's doing, including the yells of the booth attendant, turning her head to watch as he climbs up and throws himself into the tank. She's still crying, in a fairly unremarkable fashion. Annie is aware of what she's doing, but there isn't a ready, easy outlet, and too many emotions to compartmentalize meant something overflowed.

Right down her face, but as Wally talks about the cold and paddles to where she sits, all she does is look down at him, swallowing down the phlegm in her thickening throat. She barely notes the cold, doesn't find it much of anything to mind, against the heat and humidity and the ever-present sun.

She turns her head to look down at him, not looking as self conscious as she wonders if she shouldn't feel. Crying's no big shame on her world, not as such, and so she isn't ashamed of the emotion, only the lack of control she's showing in allowing anything to come through. Annie reaches out with a hand, pushing her fingers against his forehead, not terribly forceful, but indicating that he should let go and back off. It's for what she feels are practical reasons: ]

You're going to get hurt.

[ Or maybe not, but the chance is there, if her target is hit, because he's made them a temporary focus of those near-by, and even with the volunteer from the booth marching up to the tank and shouting at the both of them, a more mischievous teen is stealing past to one of the balls and lining up a shot at the target.

If there's any secondary meaning to her words, she won't linger on it. But he really should get out - he's causing a scene. Anything hitting that target was going to collapse her seat and send her right down on him, which might not seem like much, but for all her petite frame, Annie was very solidly built.

Not a word about the fact she's (still) crying, or that he's an idiot, or he's getting them all in trouble. Not even the more obvious go away. Just you're going to get hurt. For the stupidest of things. The snickering teenager pulls back their arm, releasing the ball.

Who's to say if it hits? ]

[Luckily it doesn't, but park security is starting to come back for him and he's going to get his ass thrown out of here at this rate, so he'll very slowly back away and pull himself out of the tank.

It's kind of funny. Ever since Wally was a little kid, he wanted attention when he was hurt. Didn't matter how he got hurt or what hurt; if something felt bad, he wanted people to notice and he wanted to be comforted. Scraped elbow, got yelled at by his parents, kids at school were mean, he told anyone and everyone.

Yet somehow, he keeps making friends with people who approach pain with a method similar to that of a wounded cat. He just doesn't get it; why would anyone rather be alone and miserable than have someone dote on them for a few hours and make them feel better? God, his friends are strange.]

I can handle it, [Wally says, even as he pulls himself out of the tank, and he hangs onto the ladder to jab a finger against the glass. He's choosing to take that warning as less about the immediate danger. And he's trying to think of something helpful and meaningful to say, something that'll help her out or make her feel better but he's coming up blank.] I dunno what I said, but don't cry.

[...yup that's all he's got.

He finally slides down the ladder and squeezes out his shirt as he heads over to the gate. He glances back at Annie over his shoulder.]

[ Anything else would have gotten her killed before now. Defensive mechanisms arise for a reason, and Annie's isolation, and how she pushes people away, has saved her as much as it's saved others from having to know her.

She does't know how to accept comforting. She's never had it before here.

So she doesn't. But she can... well. Work on trying to protect people, when she can. Acknowledge the better things they can do, and what she admires or respects about them.

And wave, since there's nothing really to say as he leaves, having listened to him - I can handle it. I dunno what I said, but don't cry. - that she knows how to articulate.

Tears aren't always a bad thing. Her warning is what it is, and he's as right to read into it as he could have been wrong. You're going to get hurt. It's what she knows she can do, what she doesn't want to do, and what inevitably will happen, because people are people.

When she waves, a small roll of her wrist and fanning of her fingers at about shoulder level, she doesn't appear to be crying. It's just distance and time that does what it can to minimize everything.

This, too, shall pass. For all she won't really explain that she was crying for good reasons... or for better ones. ]

Oh Mr. Clown, Oh Mr. Clown

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