selfhelp | [Voice/Action]

[Okay, so. Post-draft, he's given himself a few days of seclusion and bed-rest (apparently being infected with a zombie virus is exhausting), and even Billy can freely admit to himself that he's been pretty depressed lately, a fact for which he feels no shame considering that depression was well and truly earned. One can only spend so much time fretting, moping, and dwelling on one's own misery for so long, however, and today? He's decided that enough is enough. Billy will be going out today, limping around the village and visiting the people who were on the draft whose fate he's still uncertain of. The ones he can't find or has no reason to actually visit, he'll check with a light location spell, and he'll spend a few hours at Seventh Heaven people-watching out the window while he doodles in a book that Teddy had given him containing a series of patterns (much like this) that resemble inkblogs, and bit by bit Billy's turning them into something like this instead. It's been a tiring week, though, so you could always catch him napping on the table, instead.

At some point he'll attempt to find Peter, and when both a location spell and a teleport fails, he tries to teleport to the apartment he'd been staying at instead, finding it almost completely emptied. All he manages to dig up is a small cartridge that, after a moment of scrutiny, he identifies as a web fluid cartridge. His fanboyish glee at the discovery is tempered by the fact that the empty apartment means one more piece of bad news.

After his visits and window-watching is done, he'll return home to make the announcement, along with one more message-]

Hey out there... just wanted to let his friends know that Peter Parker went home. So... sorry. Yeah.

[Locked to Loki]

...We still on for tomorrow, or do you want to take a break? Because... you know. [Draft. Awfulness all around. He wouldn't blame Loki if he wanted to take a week off.

Later on in the evening he'll be over at Ben's barbeque, if anyone wants to bother him while he's there.]

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[Rogue feels like pounding it in. Do you know what it's like, she wants to say, to experience all the horrors of another person's life and not be able to stop a thing? To know the same pain they know, over and over again? Having my own nightmares is a blessing.

But she doesn't say that. Because what would be the point?]

All right, then, I guess we're clear.

[He looks up somewhat warily, hands fisted together. He doesn't particularly like losing an argument (if that's even what it was; he's really not sure what to call it) but there really was no getting around this one. He just dislikes leaving it at a total loss.]

...Are you mad?

[Rogue sat up straight, sighing, and ran both hands through her hair in a frustrated gesture.]

At what?

At me.

[Obviously.]

[Rogue sighed. She was Goddamned tired.]

Yeah. [One hand falls down then, to rub over her heart in an uncharacteristic and expressive gesture as her face takes on a slightly pained cast.] I just don't see how you can value other people's life so highly, an' throw your own away.

[Bwuhwhuhuh.]

...That's what you're still mad about?

[Hadn't expected that.]

Uh... yes?

[What, you thought she'd be mad about the whole quasi accusation of insanity and enjoyment of mass murder? Nah, you have to learn to let these things roll off you when you're an X-Man.

...okay, so Rogue's still learning how to do that. But she's got the theory.]

Um. Sorry. [Again.] Would it help if I said I probably won't do it again?

[Rogue thought about that for a minute.]

No. Not really.

["Probably" didn't mean anything. And it was a little more than aggravating to risk your life for someone who had just signed up to kill themselves regardless, because they couldn't stand doing what you had to do in order to save their life. And then to have that fact rubbed in your face...]

"Probably" doesn't count for much.

[Rogue rubbed one hand over her heart in an uncharacteristic gesture, not for the first time during their conversation. She sighed.]

But it's all still raw right now.

[So in time she might be able to get over his choice. But more likely, she'll just get less angry. It feels like a betrayal. She has a hard time with that.]

Edited 2012-12-15 04:03 (UTC)

I figured as much.

[He also figures he's done enough damage, and should probably leave before he makes it worse. Gingerly he slides off of his seat, scuffing a hand through his hair and half-turning towards the door.]

...I'll... work on it. My goal's gonna be avoiding ever getting into that situation again.

Good. [Oddly, that does make her feel better.]

But don't beat yourself up too much. Nobody ever expects the Zombie Apocalypse.

[Or. You know. The Spanish Inquisition. Maybe he'll get the reference. Or maybe it was all before his time. Who knows.]

[Wow, Rogue, he was like four...]

I think from now on I'll just expect the worst and then be pleasantly surprised. Pessimism makes life much easier.

[That's it. She's taking away your nerd credentials.]

I'd say go for it. But it also makes the world dry an' without hope. I find cynicism much more comfortin'.

[FOUR.]

I'll try to keep that in mind, then.

[He may or may not be joking. Either way, she gets a backwards wave.]

I'll see you later, Rogue.

Sure.

[But honestly, she's not sure he even heard her.

She's not sure he heard anything she said.

And all his accusations join with the voices in her head.

So Rogue has to sit there, quietly breathing, and focusing on building her wall again.

God damn it all.]

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