24d_245t_tcdd | Pre-barbeque

Entry tags:

agent orange

Pre-barbeque

Even aggressively under-socialised heroes with virtually no external hobbies or entertainments have certain chores which they must do, regardless of inclination, time, or other pressing matters. Chores such as the utterly mundane need to go shopping. For food. Plain, ordinary, food.

So, of course, Agent Orange is not dressed as himself, but rather as his secret identity, which is rather more secret than most. He is wallpaper; about as ordinary as it is possible for a man to get with virtually no feature standing out sufficiently to be a starting point for a description should he be witness to or suspect in something.

He was standing in the vegetable section of the store, a Whole Foods because he found the price an equitable trade for the quality of foods, doing meal planning for the week as he judged the benefits of asparagus versus those of bok choy.

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"Ah. I did not know that." he said, "It isn't a matter of you being weird, it is simply a matter of seeing things differently. I see things differently as well, and if we do not see them the same it still doesn't make either of us weird. There are too many people for any given definition to truly be weird."

She tilted her head to the side, mulling that over, then chuckled. "Are you trying to make me feel better or trying to convince me normal doesn't exist?" She was probably teasing?

"Does it have to be one or the other?" he asked, seriously.

"...no, I don't think so." It could be both, it could be neither, she was only guessing after all! "How do you define a crowd?" Why not learn new definitions? She could learn to speak Agent Orangish!

"For me a crowd is any large gathering of people. Because I am always ready to become who I am," it made sense to him, "I keep an eye on everyone in the vicinity regardless of their relation to me. This is also why it is somewhat difficult for me to attempt socializing; I cannot stop paying attention to everyone else around."

She tilted her head sideways to peer at him as they walked, possibly not getting exactly the words he was saying but picking up on the..."So James is a mask?"

"In many ways, yes." It was honest, if not particularly encouraging. Another way that he wasn't exactly sane.

"Everyone I know has some kind of mask," she admitted. "At least I know which is which with you, and James is nice."

"Inoffensive, at least." he said after a moment of thought.

"Nice," Rachel restated. "You are allowed the word you know."

"It is, however, inaccurate." he said stubbornly, "I am inoffensive, nice requires a different motivation."

She tilted her head back and laughed at that. "No, nice requires you keeping others in mind, as you do for whatever reason, and not going out of your way to bring them discomfort and harm. Far otherwise in fact. You're a protector, a paranoid one, sure, but still. That leans toward nice."

"Hmm." He didn't agree, but he wasn't going to argue with her. Somehow he didn't think it would go over well by either of them.

"Hmm," she echoed cheerfully. "I will probably call you many things you don't agree with. I seem to do that."

"So it seems." he agreed with a short nod.

"You can tell me to stop talking to you. It's always an option you know." She might even listen if he truly meant it.

"I enjoy talking to you, even if we don't always agree."

"And I like talking to you, I just try to make sure I remind people of the options." she knew she could be overwhelming. "And here's Hank and the car."

He nodded and held the door for Rachel. "It is not an option to me, Rachel. Please don't say it again."

For a moment, as she turned to slip into the car, her eyes were wild, and sad and full of stars...but she blinked it away and gave a wry smile. "I always have to make sure people know, James. Always." It was an 'ensuring free will thing' kind of.

"Even now?" Hank mused from the front seat."What are we discussing with such statements? Oh dear, you didn't offer to cook did you Rachel?"

It made him hurt, somewhere deep inside and under the calm that he always expressed emotionally. Nobody should have such sadness in their eyes, and not her. Not Rachel. "Never again." he stated, firmly, "We were discussing our continued association and Rachel was offering to cease speaking to me."

"Ah, yes, she does do that upon occasion." Hank sighed and got the car moving once James was in as well. "I take it as a sign that she truly cares for me when she says it though, you're welcome to use my assumption as well."

"I do," Rachel pointed out easily. "So it works."

"I do not like it." he said again, "I would prefer that it be assumed I am happy to speak with you until I state otherwise."

"Sorry," Rachel shrugged, not precisely sure she should be apologizing but it seemed right? "Anyway, permanent gate to this world."

"So James may come and go as he likes," Hank allowed cheerfully. "Which will be good for him as I believe we may have better access to medical than his world." There, a reason for him to come and go without Rachel! And patently true as well!

"It would be safe to heal here..." Rachel agreed after a moment of thought.

"And at times I do need to heal." he admitted without shame. It happens when you're a small fish playing in the biggest pond.

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futures_of_ash - 2012-06-06 16:27 (UTC) - Expand

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