designedtoparty | 011 ∞ VIDEO

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[Grubby and cobwebby, Nathan is slouched on his bed, smoking a joint. He's definitely not feeling his usual self, looking a bit more withdrawn than he would normally.]

So, I think I died last night. Either that, or someone slipped me some really bad acid. [He stops and groans there, squeezing his eyes shut and dragging a hand down his face.] I don't know. I'm kind of fuzzy on the details.

On the plus side, immortal. So, I don't have to worry about that zombie shit the rest of you lot have going. Down side... actually, I don't think there is a down side to dying, in this case. I mean, it's that or I got raped by some big, beefy bloke while having the worst trip of my life. [Pauses, looking mildly disgusted as he pictures that.] Yeah... let's not go there.

[He waves a dismissive hand at the camera.]

Anyway, I have this letter... bill... thing. Just so you know, I didn't buy anything, so you can forget about me paying it. Thanks.

[He takes one last, long drag off the joint, then pushes himself forward to stub the end out and turn off the camera.]

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Sixth Sense, only without all that vomiting and bleeding out and shit. I saw this one feller get shot in the head and he seemed pretty all right after.

[He pauses for a drag on his cigarette, pulling as face as he exhales the smoke from his lungs.] Apart from the whole being dead thing. He didn't seem too happy about that part.

And Bruce Willis. [Though adding that seems a little inappropriate given what he continues on with.] Unless they're expecting it, I don't think most people are ever really all that happy to find out that they're dead. Even when they are expecting it, I doubt they're actually happy about it.

[She's not sure how Nathan completely feels about it, but even the relief of coming back to life is always tainted a little but with the realization that she's been dead, and it's only happened twice. Claire falls back a step, so they're walking side by side, and eyes his cigarette.]

Why would you be able to see dead people? I've never heard of immorality turning you into Haley Joel.

[Nathan's never been one to care much for appropriateness, so he grins at the joke anyway.] Maybe not, but I still say it was in his best interests. He was a smarmy little bastard. I'm surprised no one shot him sooner.

[It's the dying part that Nathan really hates. Coming back is disorientating and not exactly pleasant, but his most recent death is the only time he's ever really felt tainted by it. It shouldn't bother him as much as it does, but there's something very frightening about not knowing what's happened. He's distracted from it for now, though, and more than happy to keep it that way.]

How the fuck would I know? Anyway, I'm nothing like Haley Joel. For starters, I don't have a girl's name. And I'm much better looking. [Motioning a hand down himself and flicking out his tongue. The very picture of sexiness, clearly.]

[Claire can understand that much, even if he's not saying it, and it's what, really, brought her attention to his post more than anything else within in. He threw me down and I hit my head and woke up someplace else. Nathan's circumstances might not be the same as Claire's, and she's not asking him to detail what he does remember, but there's enough similarity between what Brody did to her, that first time she died, and the little bit that Nathan has let out to give Claire clues. In a way, they are more alike than she's so far managed to realize: brushing things off and falling to distraction is easier than meeting the problem head-on, focusing on it, trying to figure it out.

Back in reality and in spite of herself and the topic of conversation, Claire exhales in a hard burst, trying to fight off the laugh that's swelling, but it doesn't quite work, and when that breath escapes her, it's got the hint of a grin in it. He's revolting, but it's still ridiculous enough that she doesn't have to take it seriously.]

You also aren't eleven, so you've got that working in your favor, but I don't know how many points that gets you, trying to compete in looks with someone who's voice hasn't even changed yet. [The path winds, and they're overlooking the beach not long after, the little clearing dotted with tall and naked trees.] Did that guy, the one who got shot in the head, did he tell you who did it?

[Nathan doesn't miss the not quite laughter, flicking the remains of his cigarette off to one side with a pleased grin. It's a point in Claire's favour, if nothing else.] Hey, he's famous. Even if he was still a little kid, I bet he'd get people perving over him.

Nah. The only thing he did was give me the finger. Twat. Anyway, I know who did it. I was there. It was one of those psychos who spends too much time in front of a computer. Bastard almost went Chainsaw Massacre on me before anyone bothered arresting him. [Considering the clearing in front of him, Nathan waves out an arm.] This where we're headed?

Gross.

[This time, she's better at covering up the laughter, twisting her mouth to form a word that's almost become synonymous with him. Gross. Cigarette gross and jacking off gross. If she gets to know him any more, it's going to become a term of endearment. In the meantime, she unzips and removes her jacket, folding it over her arms.]

You make it sound like dead people are just popping up all over the place, where you're from. [Claire only says so because the nonchalant way in which he talks about it seems to indicate that he's seen more than his fair share of death. Or maybe dying just leaves you jaded. She's not looking for an insight into his soul or anything, but it's interesting to her, so she fixes him with two green eyes and then blinks, glancing up at one of the trees.] Want to see something gross?

[Nathan just smirks, apparently not bothered by the insult. He's had more than his fair share (or less, depending on how you see it) over the years. Gross is fairly mild compared to some of the things people call him.]

Yeah. Dead people'll do that anywhere. I don't think it's exactly exclusive to Wertham. [He shrugs, pretending he's less bothered by the remark than he is. Nathan's seen eight people dead in less than three months. And that's not counting his own deaths. He still gets freaked out by it, even though he's tried to joke his way through from the start, but looking back it's getting easier not to be so bothered. Whether it's because he's seen so much of it, or because he's had to cover up so many of them he's not quite sure. It's not something he ever really considers, either.

He glances up at the tree, then looks back at her with a lopsided grin.] Sure, man. So long as you aren't about to drop your knickers and show me you've got blue waffle down there.

[Claire tries to keep her expression stern, tries to stick with the real topic of conversation, tries to deduce anything about him from what he's saying, but it doesn't work, and she bursts out laughing, definitely harder than she ever has at one of his comments before. Maybe it's the nervous energy, like she's about to perform on stage for someone who's been able to do the routine just as well as she can for just as long, but his remark is funnier than it should be.]

Damn it. Now I can't punch you for being indecent. [She does anyway: slugs him hard in the arm with the point of her knuckles. Not as hard as she really could, but still hard enough to make a point. Before taking off for the tree, she shoves her jacket into his hands.] Hold this.

[Being as used to and as unafraid of heights as she is, climbing a tree with branches that might break under her weight at any moment seems like cake. Once her feet are off the ground, Claire climbs higher and higher, past the branches thicker than a man's arm, past the branches that bounce under her feet as she finds her footing, up to the branches that groan and snap when she steps off of them. She's high enough, and she looks down from where she is, to call out.]

Ready?

[Whether he is or isn't, Claire jumps like someone leaping from a diving board, belly-flopping into the ground with groans and snaps, her bones popping like so many tree branches. It doesn't hurt, it never does, but when she gets up, it's with an off-kilter smile, though that might be because her jaw is broken. She speaks before her skin has finished repairing itself.]

Cool, huh?

[He looks delighted by the laugh he gets out of that one, though that's promptly brought to a stop by her punch. It's hardly the worst he's had (he has met Kelly, after all), but that doesn't stop him jumping back and clutching his arm.] Ow! [He does take her coat, though. And he's only a little bit stroppy about it.

He watches with uncertainty as she climbs the tree, despite knowing she'll probably be all right. A lot more all right than he'd be, at any rate. Or anyone else he knows, for that matter. He reels back as she jumps, his face a mixture of shock, concern and, okay, maybe just a little bit grossed out as she gets back up.]

That is completely disgusting. Why can't I do that?

[It's not nearly high or bad enough to chart as one of her nastier jumps, but as she slides one of her clavicles back into place, Claire thinks that it's at least demonstrated her point nicely. There's blood in her mouth, and her feet are facing odd directions, but they're quick fixes as she listens to him, patting herself down for anything that she might have missed. Being unable to feel the tears in the skin, missing the connective sensation of pain to tell her what's wrong and where, she has to be careful, thorough. If she misses one thing, if she messes up, someone will notice, and she'll have to explain.

After a moment, Claire passes a hand through her hair and cracks her jaw, her smile breathless and normal, this time, though it fades to allow for a look of contemplation.]

I was in an explosion once. That was disgusting. [She holds out a hand for her jacket.] I don't know. I was kind of hoping you could tell me. There are other immortal people here - vampires and stuff - but I've never met someone from another world who was like me, but not. [Claire pauses to rub at the back of her neck.] Were you born this way?

[Nathan can't help but be morbidly fascinated as he sees her heal. It's not nice to see in the slightest, but his eyes refuse to look away. And besides that, the last thing he wants to do is look like a pussy in front of her. He can't keep the revulsion from his face, however, even as he hands the jacket back to her.]

No. [A pause. Does that mean she was born that way? Cool as a storm sounds, there's something about being born special rather than made special that makes him wish he'd always been that way. Sighing, decides to explain.] There was a storm. Me and a bunch of other people-- we got caught out in it. I don't think anyone had powers before that.

How about you? Freak accident, or all natural?

[She's used to people flipping through all sorts of expressions when they see her heal - amazement, revulsion, confusion - so the fact that he's disgusted doesn't bother her as much as it might have at one time. The rub at the back of her neck is self-conscious, and maybe his perceptions have something to do with that, but she's not saying so if it does. His answer to her question, though, leaves her biting her lip in an effort not to start talking right away.]

That's cool. [Claire says it and means it. It's like something out of a comic, and she can appreciate it for that reason, odd as that may be.] Me? Uh... kinda. I survived this massive fire when I was a baby, and then everything was normal for a while until it sort of just kicked in one day. Slowly, at first, but then it was pretty much instant.

[She pauses, still chewing her lip, then goes on.]

At home, a bunch of us lost our abilities during an eclipse. It's not exactly a storm, and it's kind of the opposite effect, losing to your gaining, but... kind of a weird coincidence.

[It's kind of validating to hear it's cool. Especially from someone with such a similar power to his own. He doesn't sound quite so threatened with his next question, his curiosity more free now.] So, do you think it was like a power fire? Or just your regeneration thing protecting baby you?

Maybe there's something about super powers and the weather? Like, it effects them, or something? [Not that an eclipse really counts as weather. But still.]

A power fire?

[Looking up from checking some of the bones in her hands, Claire shrugs.]

If super powers are connected to the weather, then I'm surprised there aren't more people coming out as Superman every time it rains a little bit. [She turns, fixing him with a grin, as she starts to lead him back down the path they came, slower this time so that it's easier to keep talking.] What would happen if you like... lost an arm or something? Do you think it would come back while you were out?

[At least that's what Claire assumes it's like to be dead.]

You know. A fire that gives you powers. Whatever they call it. I don't know, man. I don't read that comic book bullshit.

[That's a good point, even if he doesn't want to admit it. Frowning, Nathan stuffs his hands in his pockets, following her..] Well, okay. Maybe they aren't connected to the weather. It was just an idea.

[As far as he knows, that's exactly what it's like, so he thinks nothing of her wording. He just pulls a face, thinking about that one.] I don't know. Maybe, if I died... I doubt it would if I didn't. Don't know about if I died from something unrelated.

Oh. [She turns back into the wind, watching where her feet fall as she makes her way down.] No, it definitely wasn't anything like that.

[Which is about as much as she's willing to get into it. Nathan has things that he would like to brush by, and so does she. Her mother is one of them, and it's easy to fall back into a more humorous line of thinking than it is to linger on anything dramatic.]

It's not a bad idea. [And she's got no problems admitting that.] Just needs further testing.

[As far as his power's limitations go, Claire's own curiosity would lead her to lopping things off just to see if they'd grow back, but it's kind of a relief to know Nathan doesn't think entirely the same way that she does, as far as she can tell.]

I'm not suggesting that you should run right out and try it or anything, but you never know, you know? I mean... maybe your ability can change, adapt, evolve. Kind of like mine did. It was just kicking it on the back burner for a long time, and then everything changed. Maybe yours will, too.

[He's happy enough not to push her on stuff. Truth is, he doesn't even seem to notice if she's brushing off stuff, despite it being a tactic of his own.

He shrugs with a slight grin.] Yeah, well. I'm not about to start on any surveys, so I guess it's going to remain test free.

[Nathan's curiosity doesn't go so far as to voluntarily do himself harm. Okay, so if he's showing off, he could go for it. But he's certainly not going to push his powers for the sake of his own curiosity. Still. The idea of his power developing is a nice one. He sees now there's definitely room for improvement, so he's not about to give up on that happening. But for the time being...]

Mine's just been back burning for a while. Okay, so I come back to life, but I don't heal... I could show you. If you wanted. I'm not going to go out and kill myself, but I could burn myself, or some shit.

[They've almost fallen in shoulder to shoulder, Claire lengthening her stride the same way that she does when she's walking with anyone who stands at a normal height. It allows her to glance up at him, eyebrows raised and mouth open a bit. The expression quickly collapses, and she's left staring at him with a pinched brow instead, confused if not for her blatant understanding. Her tone tries for light, though.]

This really doesn't have to be a you show me yours and I'll show you mine kind of thing. I mean, have you ever been burned? It hurts. You could start with a paper cut, or you could stub your toe or something.

[Being on the tall side himself, Nathan is used to slowing his pace for people who are shorter than him. Especially as someone who tends to tag along more than lead. He is slightly relieved she doesn't expect him to do anything serious, but he's also a little put out by it. It's not as though there's anything he can show off right now, short of actually killing himself. And that's really not something he wants to do. It's not even as though he ever comes right back.] Really? I thought that was the entire point of this.

All right. Look. I don't have any paper, but I can stub my toe. Wait there a second.

[With that he crouches down to untie one of his shoes. Which would be a lot easier if he wasn't wearing Converse, but at least it gives him a chance to look around for a decent sized rock to kick.]

[Claire doesn't react right away - in part because she's not entirely sure what he's doing and in part because she's at least a little sure about what he's doing and, on some level, it's admittedly kind of funny and she wants to see if he'll actually go through with it - so that when she does finally notice that he's crouched down, she's already a few paces ahead of him. She doubles back, standing in front of him.]

Right, but not since we've established that you definitely - [And this is accompanied by her fingers twisting in his shirt and a yank: an attempt to get him to stand back up.] - don't heal on the spot. I really don't want to end up being the one taking you to the hospital for a broken toe or something.

[There are people there she wouldn't want to have to explain that to, for starters, and she's never exactly taken great pleasure in watching other people mutilate themselves. Well, depending on the person. She could probably sit and watch Sylar carve out his own eyeballs and only ever stop him to ask if she could help. That doesn't take away from the fact that she's not going to just stand there and let him kick a rock just to prove a point.

She will at least try and stop him. If that doesn't work, then who knows? Maybe he will miraculously regenerate.]

[Nathan staggers back onto his feet, perhaps a little irritated. It's not like he's dying to get hurt, or anything. It just dents his pride that she gets to show off her power while he's pretty much incapable of it. It only helps a little that he's at least attempted to try and show her he can't.]

All right. Jesus. I wasn't going to kick it that hard.

[Claire rolls her eyes, goodnaturedly, and steps around him.]

You'll survive. [She looks back over her shoulder.] Obviously.

[Nathan huffs, though it's more for show than anything, speeding up until he's keeping pace with her again.]

Yeah, well. I'm sure you could've handled a broken toe. You're not exactly squeamish, now, are you?

[Normally she might be a little concerned that she'd managed to overstep her bounds or had irritated or done something not exactly kosher, but the fact that he's caught up with her and is keeping up with her lets her put that habit aside.]

Not really, no.

[There are still some things that gross her out, and losing appendages is still something she's not a huge fan of, but Claire usually sides more with fascination than disgust. In a way, that had been part of what meeting up with him has been about: determining that from his end.]

Do you like watching other people die just because you can't technically do it yourself? Not being squeamish doesn't mean I like watching other people get hurt. Sometimes I think it makes it worse.

Really? I don't think I feel that much different about watching people die than I did before. I mean, it's not as though I like it, but...

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adamantined - 2011-04-23 21:43 (UTC) - Expand

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