Maxwell Carter

I'll take a stab at it. -M

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We should talk.

He is kind enough to de-escalate from 'We need to talk', but the curtness and tone is still part of the message, after he heard from Honoria.

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Over the phone or in person?

Johnny isn't the sort of person who sends Maxwell into a social panic upon hearing those words, fortunately. And he's curious.

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In person. Honoria passed along your message.

He's not even sure Crabb gave her first name.

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Where should we meet?

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Somewhere relatively private. The formal dining room, perhaps, or one of the less-used bars.

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Do you have a preference? I’m rather fond of Stellar.

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Then Stellar it is. Dress up, I'll meet you in half an hour.

Because like fuck is Johnny Summer not going to come decked out properly for a formal dining room. Tonight, it's his dinner dress white jacket, hair slicked back just so, shoes shined to a high polish.

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See you then.

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Johnny is sitting at a table facing the door when Maxwell arrives, his expression opaque.

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He enters, dressed in his usual best, as well as his evening coat. His illusory cologne is a little more pronounced than usual.

"Good evening, Mr. Summer."

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"I hope you're well, Maxwell. Please, come, sit. And speak for yourself now." Rather than sending his misconception through others.

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"Apologies that I had Ms. Honoria deliver my thoughts to you. I... well, I thought it might mean more coming from her, if she was willing to convey it. It's not something I'm often willing to be receptive to, I admit."

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"Maxwell." First name, here. Not honorific and last name. And a moment of quiet, weighted eye contact. "I want to hear your thoughts from you. As you'd have them heard by me. Please."

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Maxwell is caught slightly off-guard. It's difficult for him to speak his mind without a cold remark or a cynical tilt to what he says, but this is Johnny. This is a man who, in the span of just a couple of months, has become someone he genuinely respects, as a rival and perhaps as a confidant. It's been a quick turnaround, but then again, this place does strange things to people, it seems.

He gathers his thoughts together before he speaks his mind.

"You said once that someone has to stay behind, to tend to the weary and the fallen and the battle-scarred when they return from their excursions. You expressed some guilt over the fact that you don't go on the excursions yourself, but you also have made it quite clear that you put a lot of value and effort into what you do. And... I can't help but once again see my own circumstances reflected in you, in that regard."

"I don't think it will shock you to hear when I say that I'm a prideful man. I tend to see myself as being capable of handling tasks with a certain thoroughness and finesse that others are not capable of, and should I come up short on that task, even if it's due to my energy being diverted to other responsibilities, I often see it as a personal failing. In particular, I usually manage the food supply back home, in the Constant. Preparation is another matter, of course, I'm hardly the best cook, but I make sure we have everything we could need, to the point that we often have a surplus. Yet there are times where I've become so fixated on that task that I've found I can think about little else, with the consequence being that I fail to set my sights on a task I really ought to do. My perfectionism becomes a prison of my own design. It... seems a bad habit of mine, to bind myself in some fashion, for no reason other than a sort of personal compulsion."

"Perhaps I've misunderstood completely. But if you're staying on board because you're afraid of what will happen in your absence, I urge you to try striking off those chains at least once more. Despite this place being a prison, I think there's a lot of power here for us to set ourselves free of our old limitations."

He scowls in disbelief at the words coming out of his own mouth.

"... bloody... I really have been talking too much to Ms. Grace, haven't I?"

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"You are a beautifully caring man, and I hear what you're trying to say, but you're completely lacking context on the matter. I don't stay on the ship because I think that I'm the only one who can do the care-tasks and prepare for the mental fallout of the excursions."

He glances down, his expression sheepish.

"Do you know what 'agoraphobia' is?"

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He's... not sure if he should feel insulted over being accused of being a good person, but he puts that aside. He knows he's heard the term 'agoraphobia' before, but he can't quite recall.

"A... fear of open places?" he guesses, from what little he can scrounge up from his memories.

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The corner of his lips quirks slightly

"An overly literal translation. In practice, it's more like a fear of going outside. A deep existential dread at the thought of leaving the place you think of as safe. I'm not only stuck here because I'm helpful. I'm stuck here because I'm a coward."

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He takes a sip of his water, not quite sure when his glass was filled and not particularly caring.

"The thing people call cowardice is too often maligned, I think."

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"The last time I left this ship was on an excursion last December. Where Watson was killed and I was left alone with his corpse for some time while Cesar ran off to play hero for other people. The time before that, to rescue someone from zombies; I was only out for about twenty minutes. Look, I'm not telling you that a kick in the ass isn't what I deserve. I'm just giving you context to give me the proper kick in the ass. Tell me to man up or something, not that I am being too virtuous and helpful."

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"But... you are looking for a kick in the pants? Because I'll tell you right now, pal, I'm not in a position to lecture anyone about being a coward. I pride myself on being a coward, in fact. It's what's let me survive the long game."

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"I'm looking..." And he deflates visibly, shaking his head. "I'm looking for you to know me as I am, Maxwell, not to ascribe virtue to me that isn't mine. Not to send my friends to tell me I'm doing too much, when what I'm doing is hiding, and they know it."

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There's something about Johnny's admission that irks him. Maybe it's the air of 'my weakness, my shame'- where he comes from, being afraid can be the one thing that saves you, and knowing when to run is the greatest form of wisdom. Too often, 'being brave' is what leads to a loss of life, a loss of resources, a general setback for everyone involved. Oh, of course it's necessary at times, but reckless bravado is a lethal drug more often than not. Then there's the fact that Johnny isn't exactly cowering in his cabin. Oh, certainly, he could let his fear dictate that he do exactly that, but instead the man is out here bringing up the mood of the room and urging cooperation in a place that could just as easily devolve into a frenzy of 'every person for themselves.' If this had been a simple admission of a weakness, he would have taken it more in stride; it would feel no different to him than the librarian's inability to sleep, or the valkyrie's inability to eat vegetables, but there's a layer of... maybe not self-pity, but something that leaves a bad taste in the magician's mouth. Perhaps it's some of his lingering animosity bubbling back to the surface, or perhaps it's some of that distaste at being accused of being a good person, but when he responds, it's with a bite to his tone.

"Then I would ask that you do the same with me. I am not a good man, Johnny Summer. I am not a caring man. I am thrice-damned and wretched, I've sold my soul at every opportunity I can, and I still chuckle to myself when I see irony in someone else's suffering. I send others to do my bidding and avoid danger because I crumple at the faintest breeze. So please, do be open with me, but do not mistake anything I do for compassion, and by the gods, stop privately wallowing in your insecurities; you're one of the most together people here, and frankly, it's embarrassing."

He takes another sip of water, expression cold.

"But no, I won't embarrass you in front of your friends, since you asked nicely. Heaven forbid I do anything to remind you of something you're already taking well in stride."

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[ Wilson's hurrying to cabin 117, texting the whole way and trying not to trip over any random debris. ]

You mentioned something about running from Them for the rest of our lives More details would be extremely welcome right about now -W

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I'm not sure what you expect me to elaborate on. You've met the Timekeeper, right? You know slipping through time and space isn't enough to deter Them. Has something happened? -M

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HOW DID YOU MISS THAT -W

[ A pause and then a second message. ]

Tayrey launched a rocket with a transmitter on it while everyone was running around channeling their inner Willow. Is there any chance that it WON'T lead Them straight to us? Is it more likely that They would drag the whole ship into the Constant or just grab us personally? I don't know what specifically she's broadcasting. Some kind of distress call with a description of the situation. -W

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I was sleeping. I didn't want to deal with everyone else 'channeling their inner Firestarter.' ... They're inescapable, but as far as I know, They aren't omnipotent. Unless Lft. Tayray attempted to contact Them specifically, there's no guarantee that the rocket would reach a realm They have access to. They need a Door opened. That being said, if her message provided the right sort of invitation, and They received it... I can't be certain what will happen. But I have an ace up my sleeve. -M

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What do you mean, you have an ace up your sleeve? -W

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Been working on a ritual. Not sure how much I should say here. -M

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[ No text back. Quick but not quite running-speed footsteps with timing matching Wilson's stride length up to the door, and then a rapid KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK- ]

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Maxwell opens the door, looking just a tiny bit disheveled.

"Higgsbury."

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Wilson's caught with his fist upraised for another knock. He quickly lowers it. "It's me. What's your ritual supposed to do? Is it for stealth, or protection, or..."

He squints. "Your tie's crooked."

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A tiny shadow hand slinks out from inside his coat and adjusts his tie, while Maxwell doesn't break his gaze away from the scientist.

"It's... a catch-all emergency measure. I was planning on using it if we needed to rapidly generate more fuel for the ship, but it can be... adapted."

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Wilson's eyes are drawn to the shadow hand at Maxwell's collar. It's startling, appalling, and compelling all at once to see Maxwell use shadow magic for trivial tasks. Nothing will top the time he used a similar shadow hand to hold his fried drumsticks instead of taking the risk that his gloves would get greasy.

"Doesn't the ship run on terror and anguish? If you wanted to upset everyone at once, it'd take more than your personality. I think Tayrey's beaten you to it, between the transmission and the lighting everything on fire."

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"Which is why I've begun to consider altering my plans. If you believe our position here is threatened, there are greater things to worry about than keeping the ship running. Now, tell me everything you know."

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"I'm certainly not going to do that out in the hallway." He's coming into the cabin whether Maxwell gets out of the doorway or not. Once Wilson's inside, instead of making use of the chance to sit down he paces back and forth in the small amount of floor space available.

"She must have been the one who put up the 'no rules, go burn something' posters, so that Friday would be too busy with all that mayhem you decided to nap through to stop her from setting the rocket off. Everyone went nuts, someone filled the Tommy Bahamas with sausages and made the theatre seats sprout teeth, somebody replaced the flooring outside Stellar with a giant pastry, one guy just ran around screaming continuously for at least ten minutes without stopping to take a breath, you get the picture. After about an hour I didn't see Friday trying to do anything about the fire anymore, so that's probably a bad sign, either she ran out of power or she gave up, either way she didn't try to stop Tayrey from taking over the public address speakers and that was a while after that. The actual launch must have been between those."

"So then Tayrey made her announcement, and she said," Wilson's cadence changes, reciting the wording she used as well as he remembers it instead of trying to summarise and drifting halfway into imitating her Tradeliner accent in the process, "'the rocket had passed outside this realm, and with it a long-range beacon and the details of our long captivity.' And that she's breaking us out of prison when everyone said it was impossible, we're getting rescued, probability help us, etcetera."

"She didn't say what she said about the ship in it exactly, but if she was sending it to someone specific instead of just throwing out a flare for anyone to see-" - Wilson flails one arm upwards like he's tossing an object into the air - "-then she didn't mention it."

"Oh, and Phil said we should wear our leis as much as possible for protection, but I threw mine at a monster in the Labyrinth of Suffering and lost it, so I'd have to see if Friday will give me a replacement."

Edited Date: 2024-01-12 08:50 am (UTC)

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"If Friday is too occupied with getting things back in order to help you with that, you can borrow mine. Gods know you need more warding than I do."

He steps back, not wanting to get in the way of Wilson's pacing.

"So it could be that Lft. Tayray has Opened a Door, in some fashion. But that means we can only hope that either something better than Them answers, or that They answer before something worse finds us."

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He does prefer to load up on armour and take the blows he can't avoid head-on rather than put all his faith in his dodging skills, even without making any comparisons between the amount of trouble the two of them get into.

"Thanks," he says, only a little bit begrudgingly. "Better to have it hit me with something I can walk away from than hit you and shatter you into a million pieces. I'll work on my lightning rod impression."

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Wilson stops pacing to stare wide-eyed at Maxwell. "Worse than- stars and atoms, you really know how to find something reassuring to say in a tough situation."

That little Deerclops sculpture with all the moonglass spikes impaling it through the body and eye comes to mind.

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"I'd like to be ready for the worst, whether it's coming for us or not. Always assume your opponent is two steps ahead of you. I've made the mistake of thinking I control the board before, as you very well know."

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Wilson cracks an off-center, fiendish-looking smile, made more so by the fangs left as a parting gift from the Nightmare Throne. "I do know."

He frowns, eyes drifting vaguely ceilingward. "Maybe it's a good sign that They haven't already made a move. If They were waiting for us directly outside the wall, wouldn't They have reached in and grabbed us while They had an opening?"

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"In theory. Although..." He strokes his chin, thinking.

"The probe may not have been enough of an invitation. To open the Door wide enough, They... or anything else... may need to be called by a more deliberate act."

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"So is that something we should be doing or trying to stop anyone else from doing? If we don't want to be obliterated or eaten or turned into half-dead moonglass porcupines?" Wilson's frustrated frown isn't going anywhere; he's out of his depth in a field he doesn't even want to be working in. "Is your ritual something like that?"

Edited (edit notifications be upon ye) Date: 2024-01-29 11:34 am (UTC)

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"It's... it's whatever I need it to be, to put a stop to whatever madness might ensue. But I don't know it would be enough to overpower something coming in from the outside."

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"So it needs a more potent power source?" He doesn't know what that would be, or how one would go about connecting it, but maybe Maxwell will.

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"I... I don't know. It could address almost anything already present on the ship. But I don't think the force behind it would be a match for any sort of power cosmic." Not without the rest of Tiamat's power, and I'm certainly not giving her that without a very good deal, he thinks.

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"I suppose that's to be expected," Wilson says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The Captain can control what abilities we get to keep, and if you could harness enough power to fight off a cosmic monstrosity singlehanded, you could probably use it to blast your way out of here."

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