savingthrows | Inbox for ximilia

[It's a message, technically. One that'll only alert her to it when she's outside of whatever building she's in. When she's a little bit freer to talk.]

Hey, kid. It's Bucky. Let me know when you get this.

[ She's still not used to this. Bucky, therefore, gets a grand total of three messages back...

The first: ]

.... Hi.

[ The second, after a mild delay: ]

This is Eleven.

[ And then, finally, after another delay, because she's used to walkie talkies and not this: ]

... over?

[She may not be able to see it, but her responses leave him with a soft smile on his face. The fact she's responding at all is enough to cause it.]

It's good to hear your voice.

[And he means it. Sure, they may not have known each other for long. But he does care for her.]

How're you holding up?

I'm spying.

[ For a moment just the sound of her breathing, then quietly: ]

I don't like it here. Loud. Too many people.

[ She fiddles with the edge of her overcoat. Today's vibrant color mixture is neon orange, ping and teal blue. Eleven loves it - but she misses her new leather jacket. ]

Are you safe?

[She's what? For a moment, he just stares at the wall opposite him, his smile fading as he tries to remind himself of the fact that he can't go to see her. Not if they all plan on getting out of this in one piece.

Eventually though, in a tighter voice-]

Yeah, I'm with some friends. Have you tried asking Viveca if she can play some music for you? Might make it a little easier.

[Something to distract her from the people here.]

[ Oh if only he knew what 'spying' entails for her. ]

No music. I let the shower run. It's like the pale noise from the radio.

[ White noise. It helps wash out distractions, helps her senses focus inwards. ]

Friends are good to have. Mine are home.

You mean some of your friends are home. You've still got me.

[It might not be anywhere near the same level of friendship she has with the people back in her world, nor what he has with a few particular people up here, but he wants her to at least know that she isn't alone here. As long as she's willing to accept it.]

When we're done here, we can go camp out in the Sunlight room. Maybe ask Viveca if she can get us a treehouse or something.

[And yes, he's fully aware that she already lives in there. But he's hoping he'll be able to convince her to move into one of the rooms a little closer to his.]

[ That gives her pause. Is Bucky her friend? They've barely met, but he's been kind to her, helped her. Like Mike, just a grown up, and surprisingly decent for one of those. ]

Okay. Friends.

[ There's a smile in her voice at that. She can't quite help the way her lips curl, shy and pleased. Eleven isn't very good at making friends - but they seem to be good at finding her.

Softly: ]

I keep my friends safe.

It's the other way round, kid. Ain't your job to keep me safe.

[Because he's very much the adult in this situation. Eleven deserves the chance to be a kid here. And that means not having to worry about keeping other people safe.]

[ That makes annoyance flare in her briefly. ]

you also don't have the job.

[ Sharp, though the words come out a little more slowly than others because she's frustrated, however mildly. ]

I'm strong. And you don't choose for me.

You're right. I don't.

[Have the job, or get to choose for her. But his voice remains calm, at ease despite her clear annoyance. This is familiar territory for him, and he'd like to believe his last attempt at explaining his reasons for being so protective worked out for the best.

Sort of.]

I'm not doubting that you're strong. And I'm not saying you can't take care of yourself. All I'm trying to say is that you're not here alone, Eleven.

[ A small huff of breath. It's not a derisive snort, and therefore can be counted as progress. ]

Yeah. [ Then, more softly: ] Friends.

[ Because she gets that. Friendship, and wanting to protect. Sometimes a little too much even, a little more than is necessary. Caring for people means being scared sometimes, not for yourself but for them. ]

Do you worry less, when you see me?

I'd still worry. But it'd be a whole lot easier to manage with you on my six.

[Though he means it a little more literally than with people like Sam. He doesn't want Eleven there to watch his back. Instead, it simply means that he can take point and try to head off any hits headed her way.]

When we get back to the station, we'll go break out the Doc's waffle maker. Cook up a mountain of waffles, just for the two of us.

What's... 'on my six'? [ A beat. ] I'm not good at math.

[ She's learned her numbers, but not much beyond that.

She does decide she'll check in on him, though. He might worry, but so does she. And unlike him, she has a way to see him whenever she wants. ]

Yes. I want that. We can make it really tall.

It means I'd prefer having you watch my back. Get you to keep me safe in person.

[Because that's easier to explain than going over clock faces right now.]

It's a deal. I'll cook, you stack.

[ It's cute he thinks she'll be standing behind him. What an adult thing to say. But Eleven lets him believe it - if it makes him feel better, why not. Eleven will allow it. After all, she knows better. ]

Deal. I'm sorry I can't be there. In person. But I'm still watching, sometimes. So it's okay.

[That is in no way creepy to hear. But he's not going to push for more. Not when they're stuck in entirely different locations like this.]

Nothing to apologize for. When we get back to the station, we can make up for it all.

Inbox for ximilia

audio. un: barnes.

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