ArchivedLogs:Wait For It

Wait For It
Dramatis Personae Matt, Shane	2016-05-03 "{I'd light the whole fucking state on fire if I thought it would help.}"
Location <XS> Danger Room - B2
The room is large and circular, a geodesic hemisphere of hexagonal ceramic panels. It is the Danger Room, and is thus often full of danger, but is presently not in use and is thus remarkably danger-free. Safest room in the school, probably. The Danger Room is occupied -- though not, at this moment, particularly full of any evident threat. Shane Holland, says its log -- though the tiny sharkpup has been notably absent from all his /scheduled/ training sessions, of late. Right now, in here, it's downright peaceful. A copse of peach trees alongside a quiet stream -- somewhere behind them there is farmland, neat rows of corn, huge vegetable gardens, a large farmhouse, but here -- just rows and rows of peach trees. Not very accurate to life ones; they're heavily laden with both fruit /and/ flowers, at the moment, the air heady and sweet. Somewhere by the side of the stream there is a truly enormous shaggy mutt of a dog, patchwork fur in brown and white and black; tucked up against its side, one tiny blue sharkpup in MMMC kutte, no shirt, slacks rolled up, bare feet dangled down into the water. Head tipped back to stare up into the blossoms, eyes kind of fixed and wide. Matt's training today has mostly been in the gym, but he has finished and showered and changed into his Game Night clothes, now: black t-shirt featuring Coyote of Gunnerkrigg Court, overlong blue jeans fraying at the cuffs, and old comfotable hiking boots. He pauses by the Danger Room door to read the panel beside it. Then, raising his hand to key on the intercom, "Shane? It's Matt, I'm crashing your training session." That's all the warning he gives before opening the door and entering, staring wide-eyed at the peach orchard. "Oh, dear. If we were on Star Trek, this would probably be the most dangerous program of all." The dog gets up before Shane does, lumbering to his feet with a heavy swoosh of tail, a low 'boof' in his chest. Shane just huffs, displaced from his furry pillow; he leans back against the nearby peach tree instead. "He might lick you to death. It's a serious threat." Matt emits a soft squee and reaches out to pet the giant mutt. "I accept this peril. I'm a highly trained...whatever we are." His fingers sink deep into shaggy fur for better scritching. "I hope I'm not interrupting meditation or decompression." He studies Shane closely. "Nobody's got enough training to handle Skittles." The dog pads over to Matt, shoving his head up into the man's hand. Slurping at Matt's palm. His tail wags faster, fanning the air. "Except Pa, maybe. His dog, growing up." Shane's voice is quiet. Sort of black, eyes still just tipped up into the blossoms overhead. "You are /so much dog!/" Matt tells Skittles's holographic doppelganger. "How are you so much dog? I want a gigantic scruffy dog just like you, but Luci would faint." If he minds the licking he certainly isn't giving any sign of it, petting and scratching with great enthusiasm. "It's only because you are too excellent." He finally tears himself away from Dog and goes to Shane, leaning from the tree across from him. "{How goes?}" softly, in French. "You could bring Skittles home. Have Joshua go grab him from the farm. He probably -- probably misses --" But Shane breaks off, just exhaling quietly. After a pause: "You can borrow Obie. He's not big /or/ scruffy, though." Skittles follows after Matt, leaning up against his side, tail now thumping against the tree. Shane's gills ripple faintly, then press flat. "{It's going. Does that ever strike you as strange?}" Matt's hand is drawn magnetically back to the dog's head, curling to scritch under one ear, then the other. "I wouldn't want to deprive your grandparents or you and Spence of your companions. New Leash on Life has plenty of dogs who need fostering and adopting." He tilts his head ever so slightly at Shane. "{The words themselves? Or the phenomenon?}" But then, without waiting for clarification, he replies, "{Yeah.}" "{It just doesn't matter what happens. The world just keeps -- going. All the time.}" Shane tips his head back down, huge black eyes turning to lock onto Matt. "{It never takes a break.}" "Life doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints," Matt sings quietly, "it takes and it takes and it takes..." His head shakes, once. "{Sometimes it's reassuring. Sometimes it's just exhausting.} He meets Shane's gaze unflinching. "{I'm guessing you're leaning toward exhaustion.}" A faint shiver runs up through Shane as Matt sings, his eyes fixed on the other man's face. "B went back up to Boston." His voice is smaller, here. "{And Spence wants to go see Pa and I -- I.}" He pulls his legs up out of the stream, knees folding in against his chest and his arms around his shins. Matt's brows pull together. He sinks to the ground beside Shane, cross-legged, and wraps one arm around the sharkpup's shoulders to gather him close. His skin is still warm and a touch damp from the shower, smelling faintly of peppermint Doc Bronner's. "{I'm sorry, my friend,}" there's a faint tremor in his voice. Skittles settles down in front of them, head dropping onto his forepaws with a whuff of breath. Shane leans up against Matt's side, his head turning to press in against the older man's shoulder. "... I guess I'm not really. Training very hard. Right now." "You're doing what you need, no?" Matt dips his head and presses a careful kiss to Shane's spiky head and squeezes him gently. At length he picks the song up again, "...We keep living anyway, we rise and we fall and we break and we make our mistakes. And if there's a reason I'm still alive when so many have died, then I'm willing to--" But he never speaks the last phrase, staring down at the water flowing in the stream. Shane curls his arm around Matt, his claws prickling lightly through the t-shirt against Matt's side. "I don't know what I'm doing. -- Or what I need to do, either." He falls silent through the singing, a very faint tremor felt where Matt's arm curls around his shoulders. "Matt..." But nothing follows this. His eyes just close, head resting heavily against Matt's arm. A faint, small, helpless noise escapes Matt, if only barely. "Luci thinks that the specter of a popular uprising is the best hope for getting them out." His head shakes slightly. "I wish I knew how solid that specter needs to be." "{I'd light the whole fucking state on fire if I thought it would help.}" There's a low growl in Shane's voice, but it dies away afterwards, leaving it just small again. "He's going to die in there." Matt sucks in a sharp breath, but makes no reply. Just lets it out again slowly, holding the sharkpup tighter.