capeandcowl | five; text; around four in the morning the 25th

[he was surprised to find his heart lifted somewhat from the black, dark well that killing N'cho had thrown it into--when she said his name that way--with concern. A barely perceptible change, but a change nonetheless. He didn't spend too long on it, in case he'd misheard or misunderstood, but applied his talents where they'd do the most good.]

Heh. I didn't expect clerical magic. [now more concerned sounding] The suit.

That's good, you won't get any clerical magic out of me. Just basic first aid. [ She drops her bag on the floor. At least she'll be fixing things soon. That feels best. Everything clicks and goes together right. It's smooth. Nothing else is smooth these days. ]

Right, the suit and your arm. Okay. I'll need to be able to take a good look at the hardware for whatever it is to kick in.

[a deep breath. He looks around his room, then back at her. Taking the mask off, as a show of compliance, while resisting the rest for other reasons.] ..I don't... ah...

Heh...hh...that is, I don't have... [well. Any other clothes. And he's been in the city for well over six months. He's too far gone to realize how completely messed up that is, but not far gone enough that he's going to just undress completely.]

[ A completely blank look for a moment, and then slowly she puts it together and blinks. Oh. Uh.

Blanket. [ She snatches it up from the bed and shoves it at him. ]

... Your arm. Do you need - help? [ Undressing Ghost is not something she'd ever seen in her future. She really, really hopes he doesn't. ]

No, I will manage. [He shifts away--taking the blanket in his good hand and shuffling off to the bathroom, secretly relieved he can take a minute to gather himself and be calm again.

He's about to give his suit over to a mechanopath[?] and she'll know how his tech works, and though he's had a handful of minor leaks in his homeworld (and unpleasant experiences with interfering tech), there's nothing he's kept a firmer hold on here in this world. Besides his affection.

His body's racked with quiet coughs as he takes the suit off, avoiding the mirror as he wraps himself up in the blanket instead. Terror is very much alive in his heart, but he knows he needs these repairs, and he --hopes--god does he hope--that Max is safe. Intellectually he knows he has the informational edge over her, that she's not a skrull (most likely) and her identity, her real name, however accidentally she gave it. Intellectually.]

Hhnnhh... hhem.

[cracking the door, then shuffling out with the suit tucked in his good arm like a baby]

..here.

[ The tools she leaves in the bag for now, but she gets out the burn cream and bandages she acquired on her way over and waits, pacing back and forth, arms folded. This whole thing - everything about this situation with Vulcanus is so far beyond her level. She's out of her depth and people are getting hurt and -

She turns as he comes out of the bathroom and nods, holding up the jar of burn cream. ]

The arm first.

It'll mean you can help with the suit. [ It'll mean she can at least know she did what she could. ]

Logical. [most of him shrinks a little into the blanket's depths, but he uses his good hand to hold out the other arm, covered with odd circular scars white with age, from the prototypical suit of yesteryear. There are angry burns on top of those scars, though it's nothing that looks life threatening it certainly doesn't look healthy.]

Fighting skrulls is difficult. [:c]

I try. [ She's not a nurse, or trained, or anything, but she watched the nurses at the clinic tend to her wounds, so she can at least try to emulate what they'd done with him. She starts spreading the cream on, gently as possible. ]

Seems like it is. I'm - I should have been there. To help. [ Concentrating on his arm is a convenient reason not to look up. ] To do something.

I cannot feel any sensation, Max. [this said gently as well, in response to her treatment.]

Hhh, I'm not usually a fighter myself. I'm glad you were safe. You are still recovering.

[ Frowning. ] That can't be good. [ Calm. Stay calm. ]

I'm mostly fine. I could have done something, maybe I could have made sure you didn't get hurt. [ no. Stay calm. She takes a deep breath and starts wrapping the bandage around his arm. ]

It may be a natural result of nerve trauma--I could not split the voltage low enough to avoid some obvious damage, but...

[having her fuss over him feels good, and he's conflicted, because he doesn't want her to stop, but he also doesn't want her to worry unnecessarily.]

From now on I will keep you as informed as possible.

You realize saying nerve trauma sounds terrible, right? [ Managing a bit of a smile as she finishes wrapping his arm. It's not really reassuring.

Okay. I think that's all I can do for the arm.

Thank you.

[he can't tell her not to worry--he won't order one of his friends to do or feel anything]

...worst case, I may need to die again, and have it serve as a kind of hard-reset of physical functions.

[ wow she just almost choked on air. coughs, trying not to crush the tape in her hand. ]

Let's avoid that if we can.

[ a little bit really upset. ] Okay. I guess we should take a look at the suit now.

Certainly-- [okay he's slow, not stupid. He can tell she's upset. Clumsily he reaches his good hand to touch her arm.]

Max? What is it?

Okay, good -- [ things she wasn't expecting. She meets his eyes for a moment, trying to smile and failing miserably. ]

Can dying just not go on the board of options. At all.

[ changing subjects like a boss ] I hope repairs won't need anything specialized, because I've only got so many tools.

...Ah. Yes. ImPort resurrection is not a 100% guarantee.

[a pause, and his smile is slightly shy]

I doubt it will be a problem. I have refined the technology to be adaptable to--low technological environments. [a beat. The way his voice changes--an undercurrent of thrumming pleasure. The suit is, in a way, the one thing it's safe for him to be proud of.]

The method requires a sideways interpretation of certain quantum theories and states, but--your power should allow you to understand the unorthodox way in which I have applied it.

[ she's going to skip the no shit, Sherlock! there and just. sit down with the suit, looking at the hardware. This she can handle. She looks up to listen to him explain before turning her attention back to the suit. For a moment she frowns, brushing her hand absent-mindedly over the tech, and then her face smoothes into calm concentration and she turns her bag over to get to her tools. ]

This is gorgeous.

[ it's calm, a lot more even than anything else she's said so far, and her hands are steady. ]

And that's - [ she lifts up a burnt circuit and shakes her head in bemused wonder. ] Wow. You are good.

[he shifts over, a little closer, narrowing the distance with optimistic pleasure at her admiration.]

Thank you.

[her comments warm him from inside, it's a peculiar feeling--...or maybe it's residual from the burn damage.]

It is ...untranslatable to most. You are very special, Max.

[ a tiny shrug as she keeps working. ]

It's just the Porter. There are parts of this I would have understood before, but most of it I'd need months of studying it to really get.

You realize you're a genius, right?

That seems an unduly modest view.

[a pause whereby he practically radiates pleasure.]

It is forward-thinking technology even in my universe, yes.

[ahaha and he's got her] Mechanopath or not, that makes you a genius also.

Just how it is.

[ a split second of a smile up at him before she turns her attention back to her work. ]

Oh, no. I'm smart, yeah, but I couldn't have built this or figured out the tech - [ oooh, that's cool. tugging at things. ] I can stopgap this. And this. [ pointing. ] That would need too long. It's going to be a matter of prioritizing what's most important to get up and running, probably.

five; text; around four in the morning the 25th

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