[She looks up at the ceiling, pursing her lips. The way his head moves reminds her so suddenly of how he was as a child that she can't help but stare for a moment, then smile.]
I guess... in a situation like that, you have to figure out if it's worth the risk.
Maybe I just don't need to have that you know? I never really expected to anyway.
[A life in a van with just a group of tech nerds did not lend itself to a life of intimacy. Carl could attest to that, despite his best efforts]
It's not that I haven't done that sort of thing [He interjects, realizing he's making it sound like he's a 40 yr old celibate] But I just sort of assumed in my case they were always going to be one offs. Not um...I'm not what someone would peg as 'keeping material'.
[A blind phone hacker does not an ideal partner make, no matter how cute he might be]
And this person, you know, they've stuck by me longer than anyone else ever has. So maybe I'm just being selfish to think about more than that.
[For a few moments, she just looks at him. She can't help the soft hum of amusement as he feels he has to make sure she knows he's 'done that sort of thing' (she wasn't going to ask), and she curls a hand over his shoulder, squeezing gently.]
It's not selfish to want to mean more to somebody. And, I dunno... for what it's worth, I think you'd be a keeper.
[His muscles tense instinctively at the touch but slowly relax into it, though he keeps his face looking forward across the room into some midspace he can't see.]
Even though I send you annoying messages early in the morning?
[Whistler then quietly shifts his head so that his ear brushes against the tops of her knuckles, appreciating the closeness]
Wondering about this might be pointless anyway. I don't even know if I'm actually still alive back home.
[He's never known her to be subtle about her opinions. Part of what he likes about her.
Then he shakes his head]
I don't know. I think its sort of a 50/50 thing. The last thing I remember was smashing a van into...something. I think it was a building. My head flew forward and his something hard, my body smashed against the steering wheel...and then I was here.
[He says it all with an even tone, like he's trying to work through a math problem rather than figuring out if he's dead or not]
But if I didn't succeed then he...also...might not....he might be in a lot of trouble if I wasn't successful. They all might be.
[She's not sure how he's going to react, but she does it anyway - her hand sneaks around his back, arm draped around his shoulders, and she brings her feet up onto the couch to pull up her knees into a similar position to his.]
Well, that sucks. [She hums.] 'He' being the person you like, right?
[Julie shrugs, though in this position it's more of a shuffle.]
You might not be dead. I'd be trying to stay on that side of the fence, if I were you.
[He stays extremely still as she maneuvers, not sure at first exactly what she's doing, but when she's settled into place he lets himself lean into her oh so slightly. This kind of contact is very new to him. But he can't say that he doesn't like it so far.]
Yeah. He. We've been partners in crime since I was a little older than you.
[He butts his head gently against her]
Even if you don't believe my criminal street cred.
[Whistler and Mother had been paired up long before Bishop ever came knocking. In fact Whistler couldn't do much of what he does without Mother. Whistler was the ears and the cunning, Mother was the eyes and the strength.]
I hope I'm not. I'd really rather not die with the headline 'Blind man crashes into building'
[And more than that, he doesn't want to think that he failed his friends]
I don't mind going out on a joke [In fact he'd prefer to go out that way] But...just not one that's an easy stereotype about the thing everyone focuses on, you know?
[Whistler make jokes about his own blindness. He doesn't mind people making jokes about it. What he minds is when people see him as only that. The blindness and nothing else. Then it's not funny, it's just ignorant. And so if the headline on the day of his death was 'blind man crashes into building' he knows what everyone would think. How stupid. How incapable and idiotic for someone like him to think he could do things. And for that reason somehow the death would seem warranted. Because a blind man had tried something he shouldn't.]
What he's like? Well, uh, you won't be surprised to find out he's got a code name too. Mother. But his name is Darren. Coupe years younger, he likes conspiracy theories...but I think a lot of that is just to bother Crease.
[Come to think of it, she's never asked him why his name is Whistler... but then, she only ever calls him Whistler when other people are around to hear it, and they don't tend to hang out where other people are.
Julie leans her head against Whistler's shoulder, closing her eyes because she knows he can't see to make her self-conscious about the fact she looks like she's ready to fall asleep again.]
[Whistler hums as he lets himself get a bit nostalgic]
Because he's a worrier. Mother Hen. Though Crease likes to say its because he's a Motherfucker.
[He half chuckles remembering the way they get at each other. Every time Mother comes up with a new conspiracy theory about the CIA or the moon landing...]
I guess my life has been kinda strange. It's been that way for so long now I kinda forget it's not normal.
[When he feels her head rest against his shoulder his expression softens]
You tired? ...I...I shouldn't have woken you up. I'm sorry.
[He's quiet a moment, just letting a comfortable silence dominate as his fingers fiddle a little with his toes]
You can sleep here if you'd like. I'll try to be quiet while I'm working.
[After all, he was the reason she dragged herself all the way over here. He didn't exactly feel good about having her trek all the way back when sleeping was something she could just as easily do here as there.]
[His head turns as she sits up, attempting to face her but eyes askew and head tilted upwards too much.]
An idea of what you look like?
[He bites his lower lip in thought]
Sort of yes and sort of no. It's...It's not like a picture. In my mind people are like...
[He hums again trying to pick his words]
Like lights and hues...shapes...everyone is different. But for me to get a sense of what a person actually looks like..that takes more experimentation.
[He may not be able to see it, but he can feel it. Not in the literal sense, but in the way that sometimes air feels heavy when certain things get said or when certain things don't get said. It makes him sit straighter, the muscles of his shoulders and arms taut]
Can I ask you something? You can say no...
[Obvious but he's now rambling because he's shy]
...could I, um...
[He gestures, bringing up a hand to touch his own face, carefully mapping it out with his fingers to show how he can learn how to read a face by touching it]
[In truth, she'd been about to ask him if he wanted to, but she didn't know if it would be rude or if it would even help anything when he'd been blind all his life anyway.
She nods without realising he can't see it, then makes a small sound of assent and gently takes his wrists, guiding his hands until his forefingers touch her cheekbones.]
[Whistler turns where he's sitting to make the movement more natural, chewing anxiously at the corner of his lip as his fingers settle. They follow the fine curve of her nose to the arch of her brows, and move from their over her forehead and back downward along her temples and drifting further down over her cheeks to her jawline
All the while he seems to be focusing, memorizing silently.]
I don't know how much it means coming from me [he murmurs] but I think you must be very pretty.
[He retracts his hands when he's done, shuffling a bit backwards on the couch to be sure that she feels like she has space.]
[She closes her eyes - just as a precaution - and stays still while he looks at her. Her nose scrunches slightly under his fingers, a smile tugging at her lips when he comes down to her cheeks and jawline.
It's a strange experience, not 'intimate' but 'close' and she holds a giggle in the back of her throat as she opens her eyes to watch him.]
No problem... and thanks. That could have been a real let-down, huh?
[She watches him move, following the motions of his hands and tilting her head to one side. A small smile settles on her face, half warm, half saddened, and the memories of words written in a familiar hand come into her mind.
'For Julie Cabernet, the only light left'.]
You remember when you asked me if I liked you? And that it was a rare thing? ... People are missing out.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
redwinekindofgirl) wrote2017-10-17 07:58 pm
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[She looks up at the ceiling, pursing her lips. The way his head moves reminds her so suddenly of how he was as a child that she can't help but stare for a moment, then smile.]
I guess... in a situation like that, you have to figure out if it's worth the risk.
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Maybe I just don't need to have that you know? I never really expected to anyway.
[A life in a van with just a group of tech nerds did not lend itself to a life of intimacy. Carl could attest to that, despite his best efforts]
It's not that I haven't done that sort of thing [He interjects, realizing he's making it sound like he's a 40 yr old celibate] But I just sort of assumed in my case they were always going to be one offs. Not um...I'm not what someone would peg as 'keeping material'.
[A blind phone hacker does not an ideal partner make, no matter how cute he might be]
And this person, you know, they've stuck by me longer than anyone else ever has. So maybe I'm just being selfish to think about more than that.
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It's not selfish to want to mean more to somebody. And, I dunno... for what it's worth, I think you'd be a keeper.
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Even though I send you annoying messages early in the morning?
[Whistler then quietly shifts his head so that his ear brushes against the tops of her knuckles, appreciating the closeness]
Wondering about this might be pointless anyway. I don't even know if I'm actually still alive back home.
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[Has she ever not been vocal about what she does and doesn't like? She squeezes his shoulder again, then her fingers still against his skin.]
... You think you died?
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You make a good point, Jules.
[He's never known her to be subtle about her opinions. Part of what he likes about her.
Then he shakes his head]
I don't know. I think its sort of a 50/50 thing. The last thing I remember was smashing a van into...something. I think it was a building. My head flew forward and his something hard, my body smashed against the steering wheel...and then I was here.
[He says it all with an even tone, like he's trying to work through a math problem rather than figuring out if he's dead or not]
But if I didn't succeed then he...also...might not....he might be in a lot of trouble if I wasn't successful. They all might be.
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Well, that sucks. [She hums.] 'He' being the person you like, right?
[Julie shrugs, though in this position it's more of a shuffle.]
You might not be dead. I'd be trying to stay on that side of the fence, if I were you.
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Yeah. He. We've been partners in crime since I was a little older than you.
[He butts his head gently against her]
Even if you don't believe my criminal street cred.
[Whistler and Mother had been paired up long before Bishop ever came knocking. In fact Whistler couldn't do much of what he does without Mother. Whistler was the ears and the cunning, Mother was the eyes and the strength.]
I hope I'm not. I'd really rather not die with the headline 'Blind man crashes into building'
[And more than that, he doesn't want to think that he failed his friends]
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[Whistler, after all, is not exactly what one has in mind when they think of a wanted felon. Even with the blindness put to one side.]
And yeah... that's kinda shitty, even if it means going out on a joke.
[What a way to go, right?]
So... this guy, what's he like?
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[Whistler make jokes about his own blindness. He doesn't mind people making jokes about it. What he minds is when people see him as only that. The blindness and nothing else. Then it's not funny, it's just ignorant. And so if the headline on the day of his death was 'blind man crashes into building' he knows what everyone would think. How stupid. How incapable and idiotic for someone like him to think he could do things. And for that reason somehow the death would seem warranted. Because a blind man had tried something he shouldn't.]
What he's like? Well, uh, you won't be surprised to find out he's got a code name too. Mother. But his name is Darren. Coupe years younger, he likes conspiracy theories...but I think a lot of that is just to bother Crease.
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[Come to think of it, she's never asked him why his name is Whistler... but then, she only ever calls him Whistler when other people are around to hear it, and they don't tend to hang out where other people are.
Julie leans her head against Whistler's shoulder, closing her eyes because she knows he can't see to make her self-conscious about the fact she looks like she's ready to fall asleep again.]
Your life sounds so interesting.
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Because he's a worrier. Mother Hen. Though Crease likes to say its because he's a Motherfucker.
[He half chuckles remembering the way they get at each other. Every time Mother comes up with a new conspiracy theory about the CIA or the moon landing...]
I guess my life has been kinda strange. It's been that way for so long now I kinda forget it's not normal.
[When he feels her head rest against his shoulder his expression softens]
You tired? ...I...I shouldn't have woken you up. I'm sorry.
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[She puffs out a breath but doesn't move her head from where it is.]
Yeah, you woke me up, but it's fine. I told you I'd come over here. You didn't believe me.
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You can sleep here if you'd like. I'll try to be quiet while I'm working.
[After all, he was the reason she dragged herself all the way over here. He didn't exactly feel good about having her trek all the way back when sleeping was something she could just as easily do here as there.]
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[It might be nicer, actually. Her apartment can get too quiet, especially when it's dark outside, in those couple of hours without a sun in the sky.
She sits up, rubbing underneath one of her eyes.]
Hey, can I ask you something? Do you have, like... an idea in your head of what I look like? Or... I don't know if that's a thing you can do.
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An idea of what you look like?
[He bites his lower lip in thought]
Sort of yes and sort of no. It's...It's not like a picture. In my mind people are like...
[He hums again trying to pick his words]
Like lights and hues...shapes...everyone is different. But for me to get a sense of what a person actually looks like..that takes more experimentation.
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What do I look like to you?
[Call a girl curious - Whistler is actually the first blind person she's ever had as a friend.]
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Bright. Warm. But one of those lights that moves a lot. I've heard fireflies move like that.
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Yeah... yeah, they do. [Her voice is soft, and she shifts to tuck one side of her hair behind her ear.] That's really sweet, Irwin.
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Can I ask you something? You can say no...
[Obvious but he's now rambling because he's shy]
...could I, um...
[He gestures, bringing up a hand to touch his own face, carefully mapping it out with his fingers to show how he can learn how to read a face by touching it]
...Could I?
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She nods without realising he can't see it, then makes a small sound of assent and gently takes his wrists, guiding his hands until his forefingers touch her cheekbones.]
... Knock yourself out.
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All the while he seems to be focusing, memorizing silently.]
I don't know how much it means coming from me [he murmurs] but I think you must be very pretty.
[He retracts his hands when he's done, shuffling a bit backwards on the couch to be sure that she feels like she has space.]
Thanks.
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It's a strange experience, not 'intimate' but 'close' and she holds a giggle in the back of her throat as she opens her eyes to watch him.]
No problem... and thanks. That could have been a real let-down, huh?
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[He shakes his head]
You couldn't have let me down. Not like that.
[Then in his usual awkward way he starts moving to get off the couch, feeling his way with his hands]
Like I said, you're a firefly.
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'For Julie Cabernet, the only light left'.]
You remember when you asked me if I liked you? And that it was a rare thing? ... People are missing out.
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