thisavrou_log | closed;

When hearing the knock J stops whatever she's doing and just for a fraction of a beat her heart jumps to her throat, a hopeful feeling overtaking her. But then the moment is gone as she realizes that the knock came from the door and not from the wall. It's not Sans.

Her expression turns sour and she lets out an audible sigh, heading to the door to see who's there. Any traces of the sourness, however, disappears immediately from her face as she sees Peter standing on her doorway, smiling that oh so typical dorky smile of his.

Well, look what CRYO spat out. This is definitely the best thing that's happened to her since.. well, for a long time. Lips curling up into a teasing smile she moves closer, placing her hands on his arms and gently tugs him inside the room.

He's polite enough to wait until she's pulled him beyond the door before he's scooping her up a hug. It's not quite the hold he'd taken her into when she returned, there's nothing here to be emotional about, but he still squeezes her shoulders with that barely contained excitement he always gets around her. Peter sets her down carefully and gives her just enough room to breath.

"Did you miss me?" He says, twitchy in the way that suggests he'd rather be bouncing on his heels. "Those doctors said I've been out a while, long enough to miss all the excitement apparently."

Once he's inside J presses her body closer to him and leans into the hug. Even though it's much gentler and subtler than their last embrace they shared in similar circumstance, clearly lacking any of the raw emotion from the before, the pressure is still enough to irritate the bandaged injuries she's hiding under her clothes. But she ignores the throbbing sensations on her wounds and focuses only on the warm, delightful feeling of being held.

Arms wrapped around his neck she raises her eyebrow up in amusement as she looks at him. Now, isn't he being all bold and cocky. 'Excitement' wouldn't be the word that she'd, or anyone else for that matter, use to describe the events during the past few weeks. Really, 'stressful' is more closer to the truth. Still, she couldn't help but grin at him, pressing a quick kiss on his jaw. How's that for an answer?

He's a little disappointed she's not speaking yet. At the same time Peter knows he can't expect miracles to have happened in the time he was away. She's okay, and that's what matters. Besides, it's a good answer; one he approves of if his wide grin is any indication.

"What was that? Maybe you should show me again. Make sure I caught that right." He turns his other cheek to her, eyebrows wagging in an exaggerated motion. He's in a clearly good mood, all pent up energy from weeks in stasis and thrills that his sisters were okay in the aftermath of the attack. "You know, I'll take that as a yes anyway."

He presses a hand to her hip, squeezes as he looks back to her. Peter let's himself have a moment of being serious, even if all he feels like doing is teasing her. "I'm glad you're okay, you know."

An inaudible laughter escapes from her as she faintly blows air out between her lips. She lowers her gaze a little, dropping it to his collar and shakes her head a little before looking right back to him, eyes filled with amusement. The over confident attitude of his and the teasing were enough to make her to forget about all the anger and frustration that she had formed towards him during his time in the cryo-tubes, thanks to the 'talks' she's had with Rinzler. It's almost miraculous how easily each time they keep falling back into the same familiar set of lighthearted flirting.

To be honest, her surviving from the invasion and the bloodbath that came along with it was a true miracle. She owned her life to so many. Of course she hadn't come off from it completely unscratched as she sported a nasty collection of cuts and wounds of different sizes and depths all around her body. Not to mention the mental trauma. But she was still aware that it was nothing compared to injuries that some other crewmembers possessed... And then there was the great number of those who had died during the battle.

She shifts a little and moves her hands behind his neck to open her MID. After using it as her main tool for communication in her everyday life for past months she's memorised where each key and button was located and knew how to work around it without having to look at it.

arent you being cute and charming. She types and tilts her head to side. While she appreciates his earnestness and sincerity she still doesn't want to keep the mood too serious.

>well you know me. theres not much that could take me down

Being ridiculous with J is the light moments he feels he can have, sometimes. Even a near month away hasn't made the arrival of Pietro sit any easier and he still feels awkward trying to talk to Wanda with her real twin's presence hanging over their heads. A lot of his 'friends' are giving Peter wide berth after everything with Rinzler, but J remains one of the few to treat him the same. It's still teasing, the waving of a bone in front of a dog. He should feel the most awkward around her, after everything, but yet she greats him with a smile.

Peter's not going to look that gift horse in the mouth.

He watches her type, eyeing the little bruises exposed by her outfit. He'd say something if he didn't think it'd be a quick way of firing her up in the worst way. If J's willing to flirt and play along she can't be badly hurt. It's a thought to cling to as he tries not to be caught staring.

"I'm always charming," Peter mutters, chest puffed out. "And I thought you already knew I was cute. It's why you keep me around, right?"

Another squeeze to her hip and he's taking a step back to sweep his gaze over her in dramatic appraisal. "I know. Toughest girl on the whole damn ship." He laughs quietly. "I knew you'd be fine. There's too many people around here who'd be mad if you weren't."

If Peter thinks that his staring will go unnoticed by her then he's dead wrong. From the corner of her eye, J can see him eyeing at the bruises and bandages that are peeking under her cuffs but just like he, she stays quiet about it and pretends that she doesn't see anything at all. Strangely enough his silence makes her feel both glad and disappointed. On the other hand it's nice that he's not making a number out of her injuries and keeps the act up as if everything's okay -- even though things have hardly been okay with them for a months-- but she can also tell that he's curious and all he'd need to do is just ask. There's a small voice of doubt whispering to her, making her wonder if the lack of reaction is a sign of a mistrust or something else.

The smirk stays on her lips as she mentally shrugs off any doubts that are hindering her mind and keeps the play up. She prefers this silliness over the real talk anyway.

Oh, that's right. It's a good thing that at least one of us is a looker. She winks at him and also takes a step back, leaving from his embrace. She smiles wider at his compliment and responds with a satisfied nod as a sign of approval. However, his latter remark (too many people) moves something inside her, bringing up a strange feeling that she can't name and decides to leave it untouched.

so what brings you here?

He wants to ask, wants to drag her back to the medbay and demand someone with more knowledge than him swears her to be alright. Peter wants her to never be injured in the first place, to have been here to have stopped it. He wants a lot of things for her, her safety and well being. He just doesn't know how to say it without showing just how deep into this he is.

Instead he thumbs at the edge of a bandage, lightning quick, and hopes that she'd tell him if thing were bad.

"Oh, please. Just one of us? Have you looked in a mirror lately?" Peter can't even feel embarrassed about saying it, he's more than sure J knows how much he appreciates her looks. He's not exactly subtle about it. "You're a little more than cute."

He moves his hands to his pockets, looking around her room. "I can't just want to see you?" It hits close to home. She'd been his first stop after his siblings, one of the first things he'd thought about after waking up. He hadn't taken stock of the why, there had only been the urge to see her and Peter's weak impulse control led him straight to her door. "Maybe I just wanted to see you were okay in person. Nothing wrong with wanting to see my friends."

J looks carefully at him and follows as his eyes wanders around the room, trying to avoid her gaze. He doesn't need to say anything for her to catch on that there's something more to this than what he's saying. If there's something J's learned and gotten better at after losing her voice it's how to listen and pick up different kinds of cues. Both verbal and physical, the small hints hidden under the words and unintentional messages behind the body language.

Especially with Peter. He's always been more or less like an open book to her and she's never really had any trouble reading him, teenage boys were that easy and she believes to know exactly Peter's type. And after all the time she's spent with him on Moira, New York and Collective t's like she's learned what each of his twitch and the slightest change in his expression is trying to hide. Worry and nervousness.

The word 'friend' causes a subtle shift on her expression as she raises both of her brows in a amused curiosity. So far they've never really put any label on this weird relationship that they share. Friend isn't exactly how J would describe it -- seeing as they were both unintentionally flirting with dependence.

nothing wrong with that. She writes back to him, feeling low-key frustrated that the text could barely carry out the tone of tease she wanted, and reaches to turn his head back to her.

always happy to see my number one fan

Friend is about as comfortable a word as he can find. 'I like-like you' seems so middle school and overdone, but also far too nerve wracking to attempt. Friend is a good compromise between he believed they were and what Peter would like them to be. It's certainly an easier label than the truth.

He lets her guide him, smiling down at her in that dopey fashion she's so good at bringing out in him. "That makes it sound like I should be asking for an autograph or hanging your poster on my wall." Which, if he had a picture of her it probably would end up somewhere in his room. Probably locked up in one of his drawers to keep his roommates from laughing at him. But that was beside the point.

"But I bet you've had plenty of fans come to visit the past few days, huh?" He asks lightly, teasing just a bit. "Your old roommates, people from the bar. You couldn't have been too lonely without me around."

There had been no visits. Not from anyone. Everyone she knew were still hurt and trying to find their footing back around the ship as they recovered from experiencing horrific event. And on top of that, all of her previous roommates were gone, Med'an and Ryan had disappeared ages ago and Sans was... Well, not around anymore. Hadn't been for a while.

She remembers it all so vividly. Just how small and fragile his figure had looked when he was crouching on the floor, slowly disappearing like a crumbling sandcastle. He had smiled her and offered help, even though he had been in so much himself. There had been nothing that J could've done to help him back then.

Witnessing his death had left her with a cold and indescribable feeling inside her mind -- one that she didn't know how to approach. And the only logical reaction for her was to ignore it and keep going as if everything was fine just like before the invasion. So, she pushes the memory of it back, refusing to let it waver the teasing smile on her lips as she looked right back at Peter's eyes.

Maybe. Are you jealous?

He shrugs, his smile teasing and a little rueful. He takes her reaction at face value, an attempt to rile him up instead of a way of playing off the truth. It's what he's used to from her.

He can't imagine her not being the center of attention around here. Maybe it's because she strays so often into his thoughts, but Peter thinks everyone must spend a chunk of their time wanting to bother J. And he knows some people around here do. After he'd woken in the medbay that first time, there'd been an parade of people who'd come not just to see he was alive but to talk about her. How much they loved her. How much they missed her. What she was to them.

Those people would had looked after her in a crisis, he feels sure of that.

"Seething," he says lightly, laughing at his own joke. He might actually be upset if he were thinking of anyone else but the older men who'd come to talk him down out of his guilt. "I'll be sure to tell Sans or Bruce how mad I am that they got to hang out with you before I did."

She laughs soundlessly with him, smile stretching wider as the uneasy feeling only grows stronger. Bruce was alive as far as she knew but that was about it. She had no idea if he had been hurt or if he had glass on him like some of the others -- not to mention the liable mental damage. She remembers how he had looked few months ago when he revealed the truth about Hulk and what happened to the original Caducan planet.

The guilt had been immense back then and she couldn't even fathom what he must have felt like when the warning for attack had came. Still, she hadn't gone to visit him. Something that she greatly regrets now.

She gives him a casual shrug as she lowers her gaze a little, looking past him.

well. luckily for you, this time you beat both of them. i havent seen either of them for a while.

There's a sinking feeling in his gut the second she looks away. It's one of those things he can't put his finger out, the awareness buzzing in the back of his mind that something's wrong. He knows avoidance tactics, uses them constantly. There's something she doesn't want to say.

Of course that means that he suddenly feels he has to know.

"What do you mean?" Peter tries to sound normal, to keep that odd feeling from coloring his tone. It could be nothing. It's probably nothing. "Why haven't you seen them? I'd figure they'd be wanting to check in on you after-"

He stops and waves his hand around the room, trying to indicate everything that happened to the ship. The alarmed feeling is growing; his stomach feels like lead.

Her eyes follows his hand gesturing around her room, his apparent discomfort and growing anxiety causing a slight frown appear on her face as she knits her brows together. It's not like she doesn't understand why it's difficult to find a way to talk about such heavy event as the invasion but she still didn't quite approve his clumsiness as he stumbled around the subject.

She gives her dry lips a quick lick before she turns her gaze back on her MID and begins to write again. At first she almost argues that she's a grown up and that she can take care of herself, that there wasn't really a need for anyone to come and check out how she's doing. It's not like things were like they had been after she had been resurged and woken up from cryo for the first time. She's alive and relatively unhurt, that's enough reason not to worry.

But just as she's about to start to write that she decides against it, deleting the beginning of the sentence. If she were really going to be grown up then better act more mature.

Do you know what even happened? She writes him, raising her gaze from her wrist a little to meet his eyes and giving him a curious look. I'm pretty sure Bruce's pretty busy with everything going on. As for Sans. He's not really around at the moment.

"I know it was a fight. People from someplace we'd been before, the planet we destroyed." It had been from before his time but it had been all anyone had talked about when he'd first arrived. "And the Ingress messed up. Again. And that's how the glass happened all over the ship, to some of the people."

He'd gotten only the rudimentary explanation when he'd woken from the tubes. Mind the glass, watch out for other's injuries. There had been a fight, the Moira crew had won. His siblings were okay, but other's had been hurt. He knew only a little, had only listened to a little before he'd come to her.

"What do you mean he's not around? What happened to Sans?" And he doesn't want an answer, he realizes that as he says it. Not around could mean Sans had been taken home. It could mean he and J had fought. It could mean he was dead. And Peter doesn't want to hear that. But he lets the question linger, refuses to take it back. He doesn't want to know, but he can't run away from the truth.

A fight. That's a rather kind way to put it. Captains had given a permission to do and use whatever it took to survive and protect. An order to kill. There had been so much running and screaming, blood and bodies everywhere, both Moirans and Caducans. The fact that she's still alive is truly a miracle. And then the glass had came and the second part of the nightmare had started, something she didn't survive without any injuries as she had fallen through the glass floor. And yet she's still one of the few lucky ones. No, fight isn't a word she'd use. It sounded way too innocent and juvenile. Massacre is more like what she has in her mind.

But of course, none of that could measure up to the pain and heartbreak she had experienced when watching Sans dying.

She can feel as the atmosphere turns heavier with his question. Oh, now she really wishes they'd have a proper list of all people who had died to make this easier. She doesn't really want to be the bearer of the bad news, even though something tells her that Peter already knows an answer to his question. Quickly glancing to the wall on their left, the only thing that's separating hers and Sans' rooms from each other, before she inhales air deep. Better be blunt about this.

He died. Among the many others.

And there it is, exactly what Peter didn't want to hear.

"Oh." It comes out a quiet little sound, like a breath being punched out of his lungs. It's not a shock, not with how she'd been dancing around it. But a bullet still hurts even when it can be seen coming.

His gaze follows to where her's had landed, the wall easier to stare at than her eyes. He can't connect, not at the moment, that there is significance there. All Peter can think about is the deep tug of regret in his chest, the undercurrent of being too late yet again. He'd been out of it again and someone had died. Even if he hadn't been there, it felt like he should have been.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, whether as some condolence or because he's backing away is left unclear. He needs to leave. His chest tightens. He knows he's only got minutes before the hurt gets too big and he doesn't want to look childish in front of her, to cry or scream like he wants to. "I have some, um. You were probably busy. I should go."

He takes another step back, expression shuddering. Peter glances to her, an apology in his eyes. A moment passes and he's gone, nothing but a blur out the door.

J's stare moves to look back at him when the first small sound escapes from him. With a carefully eye she observes as the expression on his face changes, the last remaining traces of his usual cheekiness fade away and be replaced by discomfort as the hurt and upset registers. She can feel how a big pile jumps to her throat, choking her as the suffocated anxiety tries to return her body. This is why she didn't want to be the one to tell him about the bad news. Seeing someone else suffer from the same loss made it too difficult for to keep her own pain about it under a control.

When the apology comes J swallows air, gently closing her hand into a fist and then opening it again. There's a warm, tingly sensation in tip of her fingers and she wonders whether she should reach out and touch him as gesture of a comfort. But she doesn't get to do anything before he's already made up his mind about leaving. Of course he's going to leave, why would she think anything different? He must have lot to think about.

But the thing is that J doesn't want him to leave even if the previous light mood they had was ruined now by the pain, ghost of Sans lingering in the air as third wheel. She wishes that he'd stay with her not only because he had managed to rip open a wound in her heart but also because she had genuinely been happy to see him again. Safe and healthy. Still, she doesn't do anything to stop him. Not a muscle moves as he takes the first steps back, lips staying shut. It's not like she could say anything to keep him here. What a selfish little boy.

If Peter looks back before shutting the door behind him, he can see the plain disappointment frozen in J's face. She waits a moment after his departure before she lets out the shaky breath that she's been holding and glances once again at Sans' wall, knitting her brows into a frown.

Right. She had work to do.

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