Gonna burst into flame, go ahead

[myownbestfriend]

WHO: Anyone assisting in the Civil War Museum rescue thanks Lucifer
WHERE: the Civil War Museum, I hope
WHEN: 3/10, afternoon? correct me if I'm wrong
WHAT: BIG DAMN HEROES and/or screwups
WARNINGS: arson, civilians trapped in a burning building, will edit further warnings if necessary

Emma was more of a natural second-in-command, but she didn't see a leader emerging anywhere--civilian fire fighters or police officers hardly counted--and lord knew she had experience with getting a crowd of independent sorts to work together...by fair means or foul. Standing in front of the building, very visible in her impractical X-Men uniform, Emma reached out to the imPort minds she could feel nearby, the exertion of using her telepathic talent to do so many things at once starting cause the pink-white aura that was the visible signature of her power to dance in and around her eyes.

I'm Emma Frost. I'll be coordinating rescue efforts. Her telepathic voice came through strong and assured, along with a mental image of herself, tall, blond, and dressed in revealing white, with the encircled X of her team logo located rather questionably directly over her cleavage. For those of you who don't know me, I'm a telepath, and the joint leader of the X-Men, a superhero team in my home universe. For the moment you've been deputized, and given that I have high standards, congratulations are in order.

The speed of thought was fast enough for Emma's brand of dry wit not to use up too much time, but she switched to practical matters without more than a passing delay for banter. Our priorities are lives and keeping the fire from spreading, but after that we can let the local talent feel useful and put it out. Apprehending our arsonist can wait. If you need to talk to someone else on the team, just think it and I'll pass it on. This is functionally a mental conference call.

...All right, darlings, let's get started.

OOC: Right, so, this is a group log, and the threads don't have to include Emma. She's going to be a Useful Plot Device the way telepaths always are and make sure everyone has an excuse to thread with whoever they want and know things they might not otherwise not be able to find out. If your character is immune to psi or you otherwise don't want Emma in their heads, that's fine, too. Just specify so that no one assumes. And now I have to go cook dinner so I won't even be the first thread in my own log. ;___;

Comments

[topslug]

[ Through a mouthful of food, Yako manages, a little reproachfully: ] I only turned twenty today. It's illegal to offer alcohol to minors. [ ITS fairly clear that she doesn't expect that to make a bit of difference to the homunculus. She chews, swallows, then frowns thoughtfully. ] Though, I guess here I'm not underage, but--

[ She's rambling, and she stuffs another gob of food in her mouth to stem the tide. ] Anyway, I'll leave the drinking to you.

[ Conveniently, it also gives her a little more time to consider how exactly she's going to respond to what else he says. It's not the first time he's brought up. He has a clear disdain for authority -- something that makes even more sense now, given what little he's told her about her history -- and there's an itch to prove she's not to be written off as someone who sticks to what is known for something as paltry as comfort.

Maybe it's the tiredness or maybe it's the invisible devil she's still got riding her shoulder, the same one that's been goading her forward all these years. ]

You remind me of someone too. He never saw the point in being held back by rules, or listening to what anyone else had to say. [ But he listened to her, once in a while. ] He knew what he wanted, and he usually found a way to get it, but -- he also played along, when it suited him. Even if he wasn't afraid of anything.

[ She smiles at him, but not at him, really -- her gaze is far away, equal parts wistful and musing. ] He could have taken care of that fire without a second thought.

[nestingdevil]

Twenty, huh? [It doesn't seem to phase him - it isn't something he really understands. Twenty years isn't a long time. Not to him, not to his, and with two-centuries already under his belt, it's hardly even a blink of the eye. But how she phrases it is strange. Turning twenty. Greed closes his eyes and offers just a bit of a shrug as his brows dip under his shades.] Kids like you should have a little more energy in them. And I doubt anyone is really going to care.

[Because a little liquor compared to the fire-storm down the street doesn't seem like it would warrant a calling of arms. He sets the glass down and pushes it towards her with an outstretched pointer.] May as well live a little, don't you think?

[But she's smiling - it's a start. Greed takes the rest of the bottle himself, wrapping finger after finger around the neck as if rehearsed.] Oh-? There aren't many like me.

[He leans in a bit closer. From behind his shades, he's watching - that smile that's reserved for someone else entirely.] Sounds like an interesting guy. [His spine straightens and him with it. As he takes to the lip of the bottle. There's a thirst there and he swallows at it. A different sort of hunger than hers; one that beats between one pulse and the next. He comes up for air and swipes his chin to clean the bit that ran past his lips.]

[topslug]

[ Makinga big deal out of one day doesn't really make sense to her when none of the people she would have celebrated it with are here, so she focuses on the food in her hands -- honestly, that's doing the most to lift her spirits. As food tends to do. She seemed more animated, something lighter in her voice and her expression, coming back to life like a grayed-out drawing splashed with color. ]

Interesting is one word for him. You could say he's the reason I became a detective in the first place. [ Pressganged into it, more like, but omitting that and other unsavory details, like getting dragged around bodily and having to deal with a constant stream of cheerful verbals abuse, it makes a nice sort of story. But in the end, maybe the details don't matter all that much in the grand scheme. ]

Something tells me you wouldn't get along. [ Not enough world for a pair of beasts with an appetite that big. Too big to occupy the same space, too much territory overlapping. Though they share one odd trait that makes her look up at him suddenly, curious. ]

You like humans, don't you? Why is that?

[nestingdevil]

[The reason she became one. It's a human concept; following in line for a mentor. Stepping into shoes that are too big at first, but eventually fit over time. He doesn't grasp the notion - not in its entirety. Setting aside a life to one purpose alone seems useless to him. It just isn't his style.]

[But he listens. Because he can. Years running a bar has taught him there is value in words. In stories. Here, he doubts there's much to grasp. But that smile of his thins to a line and his eyelids sink behind his shades. Like that devil on her shoulder, promising everything with a heavy sort of gaze.]

[But then she asks it: "You like humans, don't you? Why is that?" It's a question that doesn't have an answer. Bad blood, something else. Fingers vice-grip his hip and his jaw opens with an airy hiss of a laugh.] Why not? There's value in everything and since it's all mine for the taking -

[Though he turns away. Showing off the line of his throat and it's the same sort of gaze she had been sporting earlier. As if a memory had gone on replay with the back-wall as its screen. He flicks it away when he turns back.] Don't mistake my avarice for something it isn't, Yako. But unlike the rest of them? I've never seen an issue with you and yours.

[To punctuate his point, Greed raps his nails across the side of the offered glass.] People - those who can't live your life? They always come to me. And they're mine. Possessions - [He says rather easily.] - besides, we're not all that different.

[topslug]

Because you're almost human. [ But not quite. That's what he told her before and she's inclined to believe it to be true. His goals, his motivations, they're more human. And she's wondered in the past just how far that goes. He's so clear to draw the line and then blur it again: you and yours and possessions, but also not that different. She wonders what memory he's fallen into to put that look on his face.

But poking at potential vulnerabilities when she's already here as a guest -- that's just a stupid thing to do, isn't it? ]

I can see why. [ She lays the chopsticks sideways across the box, licking her lips to catch the last drops of oil. ] Every life has value, but not everyone sees it that way. They come to you because you give them something they need.

[ To be wanted for who and what they are, without prejudice. Even if it was by something that wasn't human, it must have seemed like a better option than nothing. He's right, in a way: her life never allowed for that kind of experience. She can't say she's ever felt the kind of loyalty created by that sort of connection. But she's seen what it looks like, and even without ever meeting them, she's certain Greed's 'possessions' would die for him. Kill for him.

The question is, does he care if they do, or is that fanatical loyalty something that only goes one way? She thinks about the look on his face. ]

Does it make you happy, doing that?

[nestingdevil]

Almost - [His elbow leans into the counter and him with it. As he flicks out an index and points to another wall. This isn't really the conversation he had thought about having. The nature of him, the way he works. But he's hardly bothered and instead, Greed reaches to plug the bottle knuckle-high.] - but like I said. Don't mistake it for something it just isn't.

They're my possessions and they work for me. [The warm-smile fades. With a tight-pull of his face, with the exposure of his rather wicked dentistry. As if he's got hell-fire laced into each tooth and he coils in. Shoving his hips against the back-face of the counter. He's close again; swallowing the spaces in between.] They give me what I want; what I need. [Which, in itself, is a taller order to fill than most.]

[Greed snatches his sunglasses by the silver-piece at the center. Drags them down a tad to get a better look at her. To let her really see; that thirst, that desire that vibrates with every flick of the eye. He can't stop himself. Couldn't, really. To deny it all and leave him with what?]

[He's never thought about it and he certainly isn't about to now.] Happy? I guess. But you should know by now that I'm never truly satisfied. [Placated? Sure. Enjoying himself? Of course. But the need is endless; a bottomless pit churning in his rotten core. Always twitching at his fingertips silently begging: "More. Give me more, more, more."]

[Greed slides away casually and his lips press together. Smarmy, as if he's got all the answers.] Question is, are you? Doing what you're doing, I mean.

[topslug]

[ Yako smiles wryly when the question gets turned around on her, rubbing absently at her cheek and streaking a dab of ash across it. She'll need a shower when she gets home; she's not sure the smell of smoke will ever wash its way out of her clothes. ]

Being able to help people makes me happy, so yes, it does. But if you're asking me if I wish I could do more... [ She trails off, straightening slightly, and looks him in the eye when he slips closer, watching the play of light off the sharp lines of his teeth, and thinks about other monsters she's known. Those who swept up other people without a second thought as they chased after their own selfish hungers.

In a way, that single minded determination is almost something to envy. There is no room for second thoughts, no 'what-ifs.' ]

... Then of course, the answer is yes. [ There's always someone else's problem to solve, somebody else to save. She leans her elbows against the edge of the counter, arms folded together like she's hugging herself, or needs the brace to hold herself up. ]

I can't just stand by and watch when something's happening.

[nestingdevil]

So - you don't really care what happens to you as long as you save someone else? You're really willing to risk that much?

[Without hesitation, without even an inclination towards it, Greed reaches a thumb out to press against her cheek. A swipe snatches the ash right off her face as he retracts a beat later.] That's always the problem with you - letting your emotions gain control. But I can't say that I blame you. It's your nature, right?

[Of course, he's been there. Done that. Not entirely to that same definition of the human-lot; he doesn't understand it, not to its full extent. A little glimpse here and there thanks to his would-be host. A taste, but not the whole flavor. Greed settles his hand against the crook of his elbow and lets his fingers hover just above the surface of the counter.] Eh - can't really change that, can I.

[A knock of his boot sends him straight. Standing to a hunched-over height as he gestures with his skull towards the staircase.] Go ahead - [He starts, an offer without much explanation. He rubs his finger and thumb together, cleaning the ash off with a few twists.] - looks like you could use it more than me.

[He'll shower later and really, the conversation isn't one he's entirely interested in having. The constant tug of war - between what's human and what decidedly isn't. Two halves of the mirror staring back and him and her couldn't be any more different.] It isn't much, but feel free. Looks to me like you've got other things you should be going to.

[Like that date of hers. Not with someone, but the celebration of something. Greed slinks away, passing her by to head back into the living room.] I'll be down here when you're ready to go.

[topslug]

[ I've risked it before, Yako wants to say, but her response is cut short by the hand reaching forward to swipe the smudged ash of her face. It catches her off-guard, that much is evident, and the flush on her cheeks is more out of reflex at being unprepared than any real embarrassment as her mouth twists wryly. The offer's generous, but it's also one with an ulterior motive, and she can tell a brush-off when she hears one. ]

... All right. I won't take long. [ She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and shakes her head, even as she heads towards the stairs, accepting the dismissal gracefully as her heels click on the steps. She doesn't have a change of clothes, so a quick wash-up in the bathroom sink is the best she can do, soaping up to her elbows and washing her face. She dries her face off with the tissues she finds in the cabinet, and when she comes back, she's pink-cheeked and the fragrance of soap layers itself over the smell of ash and water, a few wet strands of hair remaining plastered against her face.

In the dimmed hallway, where she hasn't bothered to turn the lights on, the tattoo on her wrist shines more brightly than ever, though it flashes in and out of sight as she rubs her hand over it absently. Some hero she is, really. What does that word mean, in a place like this, and what should she do next?

Not that her pensive thoughts last long, because when she catches sight of him, she gives him a mild smile. ]

The bathroom's free, if you need it. [ And as she shifts her weight onto one foot, cocking her hip in time with the tilt of her head, she can't help looking at him thoughtfully. ]

Everyone has something they're willing to risk themselves for, Mister Greed. [ She picks up the conversation like the pause never happened, tired enough to slip up and forget he'd asked her not to call him that. ] Don't you?

[nestingdevil]

[When she comes back, he's still sprawled out. Both arms spread, following the back of the chair as it crawls to either end. A cigarette dangles on his lower lip, half-smoked down to the filter and there's a growing collection in a new ashtray from the time she went upstairs.]

[Greed catches the glow off her skin first. Turning his glance sideways as she trails down the stairs. Hero - the word doesn't even register, the concept even less so.]

[He wraps his knuckles around what's left of his cigarette, slowly pulling it from his mouth. Silvery-blue wisps tangle around his forearm, jolting and fleeing when he finally disturbs the stillness of it all.] Gunna guess you found everything all right. [He starts. As he pulls himself forward and shoves the butt into the collection of burn-black ash.]

["Everyone has something they're willing to risk themselves for, Mister Greed...don't you?" The question has his eyes closing. Beyond his signature pair of his sunglasses and his eyebrows dip. It's a look that's older than he appears and Greed retracts his fingers from the tray.] And everyone wants something, Yako. [He lets his elbow nestle into a thigh as both feet fall from the coffee table to the floor.] What's your point?

Don't mistake me for somebody else - [He starts, even if there is a little distance to his words. There's plenty he'd be willing to risk - for what. The sharpness of his smile fades again, turning slightly forced. A bit grim, as if what she has to say echos a ghost or two.] - but maybe you're right.

[His foot taps a few times. Knocking his heel back and his toe forward.] What's mine. [He finally makes out and the tone he takes seems to match his actual age. 200 years and still, it all comes down to this.]

[That all he ever wanted was - ] But it doesn't really matter, does it? Not here anyway. [Greed places his hands to his thighs, forcing him to stand. Whatever sort of quick-flash that may have passed is gone and that same hell-fire grin comes sparking back. Laced with each jagged tooth, with cut-arrows at the corners of his lips.]

You ready to go?

[topslug]

[ Yako blinks, slowly, watching the restless movement that's still somehow different from every other time she's seen him twitch with barely repressed energy before. She hadn't had a moment or energy to spare to do more than gauge whether Greed was in immediate physical danger or not; somehow, she hadn't considered the possibility that the days events have worn away at him in less obvious ways. Her mistake, of course. She'd assumed he was more like some of the other monsters she's known.

It's strange, that sudden vulnerability. If it's all an act, it's a very convincing one; if it's genuine, Yako wonders if he's even aware of it. Either way, it catches her off-guard, and the moment's passed before she can respond to it, buried under a devil-may-care smirk and enough cocky confidence that she almost doubts the evidence of her own eyes, that there was anything to see at all.

Almost.

Don't mistake me for something I'm not, he's told her more than once by now, or variations on the same refrain, but the more she hears it the less she's convinced it's the truth and more what he's convinced himself it should be. The way he finishes seems to acknowledge that, and though she'll respect the distance and ask for more, she won't press for details. Instead, impulsive, she reaches out. ]

... Yes. [ Quietly, without making a show of it, she steps up next to him to rest her fingers on the crook of his arm, light and easy. Almost patting it, though it's not quite that patronizing, offering him the momentary warmth of another living creature before she starts to draw back, returning his shark's smile with a significantly less wild one of her own. By his failure to take any steps in that direction, she assumes he has no intention of cleaning himself up while she's around, and she can think of few things better than dropping into her own bed fully clothed, even if she'll need to change the sheets when she wakes up. ]

Why? Are you offering to walk me home? [ From anyone else, the raise of her brow and the amusement in her expression could almost constitute flirting. But if there's any coyness to be found here, it's clearly unintentional. ]

[nestingdevil]

[Humans have a particular wiring - they're impulsive, they're unpredictable. When everything else is gone and it's only survival left. Or lack there of. Greed's had the company of many. From the first time to the last and each had been unique. Each had been the same. But when she touches him, he suddenly goes a bit still. His eyes narrow, his shoulders sag, and for a few beats, there's only silence.]

[Until:]

I'm just not that kind of guy. [Greed hisses back as he hunches over. To bring his face that much closer to hers, to bring his breath snaking to her skin. Sure, she might not be flirting. Might be trying to console some part of him buried deep. But that's not for her to learn, not for her to see. The last lie he ever told and it's not like anyone's asked yet.]

[And he's not about to share either.]

[Without hesitation, without even an inkling to it, Greed nudges a strand of hair behind her ear with his knuckle.] Power, money, women - I don't want the same things you do. The same kind of life you do - it just wouldn't suit my needs. [His fingers retreat, but his expression tells a different story. And he's reminded again and again of somebody he used to know.]

[But he shifts away. Stretching his leg outward to round and skid her side.] Sure. Besides wouldn't be right of me to leave a gal like you alone, would it? [The way he moves is just like the oil-slick she pictures him to be. Ever smooth, ever dodging: coming in a bit too close, but just out of reach. Both in physical contact and that nagging question she keeps bringing up.]

[Morality is a concept he'll never fully understand. But it's an idea he's been force-fed more than once.]

[topslug]

[ When he leans in, crowds her space, she doesn't flinch away, guessing -- or gambling, maybe -- that it's a threat he's not going to follow. She doesn't doubt that he's dangerous, but she can't quite be convinced to believe that he's dangerous to her. Not in the conventional sense. He probably has a better idea than she does of the kind of pressure her bones can withstand, exactly how much force it would take for claws to split skin. If he wanted to hurt her, really hurt her, he could have done it a hundred times over already.

So this isn't about that. Greed doesn't seem to be the type who enjoys cultivating fear for the sake of it, either. Her brain's so busy working on the problem that she doesn't realize he's touching her until the contact's come and gone, and her eyes widen belatedly, startling too late to draw away.

(He feels more human than she'd expected him to. She's not sure why she thought otherwise.) ]

'A gal like me?' [ She echoes it, bemused, the invitation to expand on his definition of that implicit, and she extracts herself out of his personal space with practiced ease, like it's a move she's had to do many times before. ] I appreciate it, but I do have experience taking care of myself, you know.

[ It's not until she's got a hand on the door, about to open it, that she looks over her shoulder and asks abruptly, like it's an afterthought: ]

What did you lose that was yours?

[nestingdevil]

I don't doubt it, but that just isn't my style either.

[In another life, he could have. Torn right into her and left her for dead. But that concept never really stuck, even with the purification under his belt and subsequent second rebellion. Those morals, not matter how small they were, stayed. And Greed, if anything, was glad for it.]

[He touches the side of his hip, sliding a finger down until it's almost at his pocket when she asks. The question he's been good at dodging: "What did you lose that was yours?" His hand suddenly goes still, his whole body stiffens.]

[What didn't he lose.]

[Despite the years that passed, despite his time in someone else's body, he remembers it clearly. The dank smell of a sewer, the quick defeat. It had all come in like a whirlwind - too fast for him to recover and that confidence of his had been his downfall.]

[Greed's snarling before he even realizes it. But he shakes his head, forces up another Cheshire smile.] That's a little out of left field, don't you think? [But she asked, didn't she.]

[It doesn't take him long to be at her back. Like a looming shadow, coiling up to follow her movements. Greed stretches his arm out and grabs the top part of the door frame. Coiling knuckle after knuckle into the wood.] My possessions - [Friends, someone else chides. In his mind, a memory to scold him.] - you could say that after a hundred years, they finally found me.

[The wood above groans when his nails press in a bit too hard. Despite the smile on his face, it's dangerous. Feral, as if he's still trying to fight it.]

And it's not like they can come back like I do. [The expression leaves and the Sin slowly unhitches his nails from the wood. It's more damage he'll probably hear about later. Or he won't. It didn't really matter either way.]

[topslug]

[ Yako doesn't turn around to look at him, suspecting from the sound of his voice that she doesn't really want to see the expression on his face right now. Having him behind her is enough to make the hairs at the back of her neck rise pricking at the lizard part of her brain, the one that knows a predator when it senses it. She looks up when she hears the doorway protest the treatment, but that's all, for a moment.

It's not like she's unfamiliar with the concept of losing people important to her in violent, unexpected ways. Every time, she'd been helpless to stop it, and some times, she'd had to watch it happen right in front of her. Part of her wonders if Greed had been there to see it, or if he'd woken up to find them gone. She's had experience with both, and it's still hard to say which one is worse -- but it's the unexpected ones that hit hardest.

Maybe it's better not to know. She studies the shapes his claws left in the wood, the fury barely held in check, and she turns to him then, like she's sensed it's finally safe to. ]

I'm sorry. [ As empathy goes, it feels like a wholly inadequate way to express it; she doubts she can comprehend losing her entire world until she experienced it for herself. But she can understand, at least up to a point, what it must feel like.

And then: ] What happened to the people who killed them? [ She's not a vengeful person, by any means, but she can't imagine Greed took that lying down. ]

[nestingdevil]

[His hands open and his fingers spread out. Fanning slowly behind as he notches them into his pockets. Greed seems to sink away when she apologies, lowering his head just a bit as he makes a short-lived noise in his throat.] Tsk -

[When he opens his eyes again, there's no trace of anger left. No wrath to his name. A side-spindling smile is all he gives as he reaches around her to grab the handle of the door.] - it isn't worth it. It was a long time ago, remember?

[But despite it being years, even far more now if the calender in Heropa is right, the memory still stings. Greed twists the knob and the door cracks open a tad. Letting what little light is left spill in; cutting a sharp, jagged line through the small entrance. It's twinged in a golden yellow, making purples of the shadow that still linger.]

[This time, the Sin doesn't hesitate. Slipping right past her, brushing up against her with a purposeful throw of his hip.] He didn't survive. But if you want the real answer - [The dwindling sunlight catches him just right. Making the darker spaces of him thick, carving every angle of him that much more. Acute, sharp.]

- I never did get what was owed. [And with that, Greed takes a step out and his heel knocks loudly against a stone step. Practically a gunshot with how sudden and heavy it is.]