thisavrou_log | ( open ) you are descended from animals

Entry tags:

( open ) you are descended from animals

Who: Bruce Banner and anyone!
When: First half of March.
Where: Several places around the Moira.
What: A general catch-all if anyone wants to run into him on the ship since he won't be going down to the planet at all.
Warnings: None for the moment, will update if need be.
( a note: I'm good with both brackets and prose, so just pick whichever you prefer and I'll match! )

WORKING; SCIENCE DEPARTMENT.

Things seem a little calmer now, and while that leaves Bruce feeling wary of what might yet happen, it also offers him a semblance of peace and quiet. The planet seems interesting but not very welcoming, and for that reason he decides not to go down there and visit himself, opting for staying on the ship and spending a good amount of his time in the science department.

Especially as he starts getting data from the planet, helpfully provided by Clark, he dedicates himself to putting together a file with all the thorough information, as well as building a holographic projection of the surface, based on the images and sensors Clark got him. It's exciting work to him, even if it might not seem like much to some, and he can often be found at the department, poring over all the images and information collected.

TRAINING & MEDITATING; OBSERVATION DECK, GARDENS, RECREATION AREA.

It's not all work for him, though. He knows he can't push himself past a certain point of exhaustion, and even if things seem calm right now, it's always good to keep practicing a little, and keep himself well in check. His favorite meditation spot is the observation deck, and he's likely to be found there more often than not, sitting on a small blanket, legs crossed and hands resting over his knees. The gardens are also a close second, and he goes there a few times too, enjoying what little of nature they have on board.

At the recreation area, he makes use mostly of the pool about once a week, going for a few leisurely laps at odd hours, when the place happens to be empty - or close enough to it.

MEALS & DUTIES; MESS HALL.

Sunday, Monday and Tuesday afternoons are spent doing his duties at the mess hall, clearing out tables and making sure there's always food at the buffet for people to help themselves. Outside of that schedule, he can be found there during meal hours, sitting by himself and more often than not reading some file or, most likely, a book.

WILDCARD; ANYWHERE.

Run into him on a corridor, spot him at the library, what have you - Bruce regularly visits different areas of the ship so it's not unlikely for him to be spotted in a myriad of different places. Go wild!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He almost moves away out of sheer surprise when she reaches out to touch his cheek, flinching just barely before he reminds himself that there's no reason to be worried about Trish.

Even if there's plenty of reason to be worried about himself around Trish, but— details.

"Nothing much. Full transformations affect me more, this is just... an exercise."

"Sorry."

She didn't mean to startle him, she was just fascinated.

She removes her hand again, giving his upper arm a squeeze before letting her hand come to rest in her lap.

Her other hand... Well, she does move it, but only from holding his wrist to holding his hand, which is stupid but maybe he'll be the responsiblr adult and let go.

"Looks kind of cool actually. So you can control transformations, does that mean you're still in control when you're the Hulk?"

"It's alright, I don't mind."

He offers that answer promptly, even though her hand has already dropped from his face.

"I was just surprised."

He's also definitely not being the responsible adult here, because his hand not only stays where it is, but also his fingers curl around hers, pressing her knuckles into his palm.

"If I control the transformation, then yes, for the most part I control him. It can still slip up at some point, but it's much less volatile. I can still be triggered by outside influences, though."

They've talked about it before, the fact that Bruce and the Hulk are separate entities to his mind, but Trish still finds the subject fascinating.

"So... I've been wondering. If the Hulk isn't you, are you always aware of him? In your head, I mean."

Meanwhile, on the inside, cue mental happy squee over handholding.

Jesus, Trish, get a grip.

"Sometimes. But not always, no. I'd be driven mad if that were the case."

He's built a lot of defenses too, walls and rooms within his own mind, compartmentalized to such a degree that he doesn't truly see or feel the Hulk in here unless he actively looks for him.

It's a strange way to think of it, but the truth is the other guy is actually... quiet, for the most part.

"I wonder if he gets lonely."

She's not sure where the thought comes from, but since Bruce isn't the type to judge she doesn't worry too much about expressing it.

Bruce's expression opens in surprise again, brow raising. Her words come unexpectedly, something he never really heard before— and something he never thought he'd hear.

There's a pause as he mulls the thought over in his head, finally answering with a thin smile.

"Maybe you can ask him sometime."

Except he hopes not. He doesn't want the kind of situation that would lead to Trish meeting the Hulk to ever happen.

"Maybe I can get him to agree to an interview."

She smiles back at him and gives his hand a bit of a squeeze.

"Don't worry though. You'll still be my favourite."

"Good luck trying to get him to sit on a tiny chair and talk into a microphone."

The mental image is so absurd that he almost laughs. Luckily she successfully distracts him from that thought when she squeezes his hand a little, and he smiles a hint more bashfully at her words.

"It's the curls, isn't it?"

He lifts up his free hand, patting his own hair.

Shit, she would love to hear him laugh!

"Totally. Who could resist that mess?"

She reaches over with her free hand to rufffle his hair a little as well.

She'll have plenty of opportunities to see him laugh later on, alright?

His head tips down a little, sheepish grin on his face as he fixes his eyes in the space between them.

"I knew it. It's my best feature."

Good!

His hair feels really nice between her fingers, and it is with some reluctance that she pulls her hand away.

"Yeah, you really don't have much going for you."

Said with so much sarcasm.

He purses his lips in a feigned pout, as if he'd even be upset by her saying something like that.

"I know. It's a tragedy."

Not that he thinks he's some sort of catch, because that couldn't be any farther from the truth.

"Yeah, I mean, charming, funny, kind and attractive really isn't much to write home about."

Sorry Bruce but it's been like a week since she got to make you flustered, and it's really quite enjoyable.

She really doesn't pull any punches there, and predictably, it leaves Bruce flustered and a little at a loss of what to say. His eyes stay away from her too, focusing on some particularly interesting thread in the blanket rather than looking up to her face.

"Right, I didn't— didn't think so either."

Well mostly he doesn't think he's all that, but words are hard right now. Besides, he doesn't really want to say something that would have her insisting by calling him those things all over again, as if that'd make it sink in somehow.

Poor guy. Trish just looks at her for a moment, an affectionate smile on her lips, but when she speaks it is to apologise.

"I'm sorry, I know compliments make you kind of uncomfortable."

"No, it's alright."

He looks up finally, offering a small smile as he lifts up his free hand.

"I'm just not used to it."

Which technically isn't a lie, but it's not the whole truth either. It's just particularly difficult handling Trish offering those remarks especially, and though he does like hearing them, there's also that voice at the back of his head reminding him that this is all a very bad idea.

Not that he's getting any ideas.

"I'd offer some compliments back but I think that would only make things more awkward."

And worse. Much, much worse.

Trish is having plenty of ides, she just keeps telling herself that they're bad and she needs to not follow through with them.

Even if it's not always easy to remember why it's all very inadvisable.

"Yes, because I hate hearing nice things from people I like."

She can't resist teasing him, even if she knows what he means.

"I'll try to contain my appreciation a bit more. To aviid awkwardness."

Good luck with that.

"Well, it can be a terrible thing."

His words apply more to their current situation than anything else, which is likely kind of obvious right now.

"You don't have to. I'm sure I'll get used to it."

No he won't. But he also doesn't want her to hold herself back when she's around him, even if that involves having her tease him every so often.

"I just wish you could like yourself as much as I like you."

Which is perhaps a more loaded statement than it could have been had they not gone and gotten a pair of ridiculous crushes, and perhaps that is a reason why she shouldn't have said anything, but the sentiment is deeply felt and she's not going to let romantic complications stop her from expressing it.

Bruce has become a dear friend aside from being someone she would like to touch indecently, and she treasures that friendship. She is going to fight her own feelings for it, because the Moira is a much duller place when she can't spend some of her time on board with Bruce.

It is a very loaded statement, and a very surprising one too. Not that she feels it, but that she expresses it like that. So easily, so openly. Bruce would almost feel his heart jump up his throat if it weren't for his impeccable control, and the fact that he's literally just had a good meditating session that has strengthened that same control.

He presses his lips though, swallowing the small lump in his throat. His mind processes his own thoughts with slow deliberation, thinking of what to answer to that, and realizing that it's really a very bad idea to say what he really wants to.

But he says it anyway.

"That's alright. It only leaves more of me free to like you instead."

Congratulations Bruce, you have managed to run into a creature about as rare as the Unicorn. A wild Bashful Trish just appeared right before your very eyes.

She lets out a huff of amusement as she drops her gaze and turns her head a little away from him while she contemplates what to say or do next. She can't stop smiling like a complete idiot because well... he likes her! Yes, she already knew that but it's still a different thing to actually hear him say it.

"Oh, Bruce... we're in trouble."

Yeah, he definitely shouldn't have said that. She's smiling and flustering and looking away from him, and he's pretty sure his heart manages to skip a beat or two there. His eyes close, his head drops a little, and what's supposed to be a deep breath only turns into something tiny and choked halfway down to his lungs.

It doesn't really help much at all when she speaks up, either. Looking up again (damn it, she's pretty like this, and he's hating himself for making her smile like that), he finally tugs his hand away, gentle and still offering her fingers one last squeeze before contact is broken.

His skin feels ice cold where she was touching him now. But it's better like this, he knows that.

"I'm sorry. That was— I shouldn't have. Sorry."

Her smile fades a little when he pulls away, but it's still there when she looks up to meet his gaze again.

"You only have to apologise if you didn't mean it."

As for everything else... maybe he shouldn't have, but she's glad that he did, and maybe she shouldn't be but there is an awful lot of "shouldn't" going on at the moment and it's getting hard to keep track of it all.

Maybe at the end of the day all they can do is try not to make too big a mess.

It only helps a little. She's still sitting close, she's still smiling at him, her voice still sounds sweet, and none of it helps much in clearing his thoughts. Which of course translates into him saying the first thing that comes to mind.

"I do mean it."

This, this is exactly why he tried to put some distance between them. The looks, the smiles, the casual touches and the way they both seem to lose their filters and say just about anything they're thinking or feeling at any given moment. The shouldn'ts and the can'ts, all the little reasons that should be steering them away from this, somehow only piece together with the all rest that's furtively working to bring them closer instead.

He should leave now. But he doesn't want to— and he can't.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject