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16. azimuth
[Public Video]
[Mira Hidalgo is broadcasting from the bathtub. Her own tub, in her own quarters, hair wet and plastered to her neck. She's not quite flashing the whole barge, but currently it's only a matter of either careful or lucky cropping, rather than any actual coy bubble bath. She is drinking champagne from a bottle and utterly pleased with herself.]
Hi, barge.
[Private to Mickey]
I was thinking, if you wanted, I could...check on things, when I go. Baby things, I mean, or...whatever.
[Private separately to Mal and Luna]
Thank you.
[Mira Hidalgo is broadcasting from the bathtub. Her own tub, in her own quarters, hair wet and plastered to her neck. She's not quite flashing the whole barge, but currently it's only a matter of either careful or lucky cropping, rather than any actual coy bubble bath. She is drinking champagne from a bottle and utterly pleased with herself.]
Hi, barge.
[Private to Mickey]
I was thinking, if you wanted, I could...check on things, when I go. Baby things, I mean, or...whatever.
[Private separately to Mal and Luna]
Thank you.
[Private]
[But she loves you anyway.]
[Private]
Call me when you're done.
[A little pause before it, emphasis when he says it, like he's telling her it's important.]
[Private]
[Casual, but less playful, paying attention. He could elaborate, if he wanted. Or wait.]
[Private]
[Private]
[Private]
[And he'll hang up now to
get her to put some damn clothes ongive her her privacy, but he'll definitely be waiting for her call.][Private, later]
[She's calling from the hallway outside his cabin, hair still wet, but lo she is indeed decent.]
[Spam]
[It doesn't exactly take great detective skill to recognize his own hallway, so he goes to let her in. When he does, though, he finds himself kind of hovering awkwardly, not sure what to say. He just knows he didn't want the last time he sees her to be over the fucking network, or all silly and distracting with her playing around in the bathtub, if she really is--]
What'd you mean when you said when I go?
[Spam]
[Nervous, about that, a little tentative. The multiverse is scary and so is leaving her friends. But. But.]
[Spam]
[He still sounds more skeptical than anything, like he just thinks she's being dumb, but there's an underlying edge to it.]
Might as well get a fucking deal out of the place before you move on, right?
[Spam]
[This is quiet, too. Not quite ashamed, but - embarrassed, maybe, like it's childish, not quite meeting his eyes.]
Except to be - my own. To carve a life of my own. And that won't happen here.
[Spam]
It's the Barge, Mira. You can do whatever the fuck you want here. Especially as a warden.
[Spam]
[And she feels terrible, in spite of his best attempts at a smile, flops into a chair and hunches up into a ball, chin on her knees.]
I'm sorry, okay, I really am, I wish I could call, or bring you along. But I've never not had - all-powerful inscrutable gods looking over my shoulder and running my life, Mickey. Even if I could be a good warden to someone, and I don't think I can...I don't want to work for the Admiral right now.
I want to figure out how to work - live - for me.
[Spam]
But all he can think of is the two of them sitting on his stairs, sad and scared and quiet and almost holding hands. Biofeedback, she'd said. The way his chest feels tight. The quick pulse in his throat.]
But--
[There's nothing he can say that won't just make him sound weak and stupid. She's made up her mind. She's not going to change it for Mickey Milkovich and his fucking inability to let people into his life and let them go again.]
[Spam]
[And she sniffs, a little, because - she's been left behind, once or twice, and it ripped her up, and she hates that she's doing it to him, even more than to Cassel or Iris or Helena.]
I. Can I hug you?
[Spam]
You can fuck off is what you can do. Don't touch me.
[But of course the real answer is yes, or at least it is underneath all the other shit he'd say if he could. He swipes at his face, trying to hide the sudden flush in his cheeks or the sting of wetness in his eyes.]
[Spam]
...please?
[And unlike Mickey, Mira doesn't try to hide her choked voice or sudden tears at all, the first few splashing onto her dress as she blinks.]
[Spam]
But if he's sick of losing people, he's even more sick of sitting around regretting the things he did or didn't do before they left.]
Fuck.
[He scrubs at his face again, looking tired, and then reaches out to grab her wrist loosely and tug at it in silent acquiescence.]
[Spam]
I'm gonna miss you so much. More than anyone.
[It's true, and weird to realize - she loves Iris and Cassel with the fierce burn of family, sometimes doesn't understand them at all, would die for either of them in an instant. But Mickey is her friend, her partner in crime and stranger things, who is brash and comfortable and stubborn, who made it easy to feel, not just like a person, but a complete one, someone who could be casual and obsessive and silly at the same time, instead of constantly and capriciously intense.]
[Spam]
Don't, he wants to try to say again, but he knows better. He lets himself grieve for a minute instead. When he's able to speak again he's sniffling, voice shaking, and all he can do at first is whisper into her ear -- but somehow, for once, he knows exactly what to say when he does.]
You ever wanna come back, there's people here that know you, okay? I know you.
[Spam]
[It's exactly right, and she chokes on it answering, because she's wanted that for so long, to be known, to matter, to be substance under all the masks and flash and impulse. He knows her, even if she forgets again, he knows.]
Guess I'll have to, if you don't catch up with me.
[One arm still tight around him, fingers on the other hand running over his short hair in a way she picked up from Iris. She isn't one that can't stand the barge; she just needs to know she can stand without it.]
[Spam]
After another minute, he pulls back, still sniffling and wiping at his eyes, but calmer now, his voice more solid.]
Yeah, what was-- what was that you were saying? About checking up on things?
[Spam]
[She doesn't say kill anyone, not yet, mostly because she doesn't really regard it as a special class of favor. It is one of many things she can do.]
Re: [Spam]
[He breathes out slowly, then goes to perch on the arm of the couch, steadying himself so he can, like, hold a conversation. This is a thing that requires actual thought.]
Can you do that? I thought time's supposed to stop while we're up here or whatever.
[Spam]
[A shaky-hopeful-playful sort of grin.]
But Iris is going to try to drop me off then, anyway.
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