psychoshenanigans | Scum & Villainy // Nick & Tonic

Nick had been cooking, as he often had, preparing various meats and vegetables, an assortment of whatever they had on hand, then patiently making little pockets of dough and stuffing them one at a time as he went. He had made them so many times now, he could do so half asleep. Had, in some cases, eyes dropping used as his hands worked, packing the meats and wrapping the dough and pinching the edges.

"I've been told it's called 'resting bitch face'," Nick answered without looking up from his task. It was supposed to be beef, but Nick never made assumptions about meats bought from questionable sources.

It didn't look like any sentient species he knew, that was what mattered.

Tonic loves watching Nick cook. It's one of the reasons he doesn't try to barge in on Nick's life as often as he does with the others. Being allowed to sit peacefully amidst soft, busy sounds and familiar smells is worth the price of a little self-control, most days.

But not today, apparently. The comment gets a very genuine laugh out of him, but he still sets his datapad down with a crooked smile.

"That's good, but no. I mean the way your skin looks, the different colors."

Its meditative, like flying, like finding your way between the spots of light amidst a sea of blackest black. Pack, pinch, set aside, pack, pinch, set aside-

The scent of rich, savory, spices permeate the whole of the mess hall, having long since sunk into every porous material therein.

Nick's lips quirk up in a crooked half smile, though he doesn't look away from his work so that Tonic can't see how much he enjoys getting the genuine laugh.

"I could ask you the same thing, you know," Nick replies. He knows that something went badly, knows what horrific injuries look like. Nick has seen many corpses in his time - plasma burns, asphyxiation, hypothermia.

He's seen corpses that look better than Tonic

"You could," the doctor agrees, "Are you going to?"

Tonic has also seen corpses that look better than he does, so he's always a little surprised that everyone, including Athri, has mostly left him alone about it. Nick has actually asked him more unprompted questions than anyone else on the ship--which is a grand total of two, if he remembers correctly, neither of which he actually answered at the time.

But maybe today will be the day that things line up for both of them, in this savory-smelling room, with the ship actually quiet for once. He wouldn't be opposed to it.

"Mmmm," Nick hums, not really an agreement or disagreement. He tends to not interrogate people - let people keep their secrets, and they do so in return. Tonic has taken the first step there, though, so the question is instead on pushing back.

"Tell me yous and I'll tell you mine," he answers finally, gathering up the filled dough pockets to put in the big pot of simmering water he has on the range.

Tonic makes a sound, but then also says nothing for a moment. He knows he has time. The food still needs to cook.

This is normally where someone wanders in, or starts asking other questions, or even speaks for him... But there is only boiling water and the sounds of settling ship, so there is nothing for him to do but finally put his thoughts in order.

“...That’s very hard for me to trust,” he eventually admits, lacing his mismatched fingers in front of him on the table, “But that‘s my problem, not yours. May I make one request, first?”

"Knock yourself out, " Nick says easily, wiping his hands off on a dish rag once all the dough pockets are ready to boil and can be left with only a casual watch.

Tonic is getting the short end of the stick here, after all - not because Nick won't answer as truthfully as he can, but because the answer is a deeply unsatisfying one as far as he's concerned.

This won't actually do anything to balance the scale--but it will make him feel better, and sometimes that's almost the same thing.

"Would you make us some tea?" He kind of. Slides forward along the table until his chin is basically resting on its surface. His boneless lounging is a good sign that he's comfortable. "Or some coffee, I don't really care. Whatever hasn't been snatched up yet."

While Nick had a habit of grousing about anything for any reason, he took over cooking duties almost entirely because he genuinely enjoyed being in the kitchen and providing for others that way.

"You're just too lazy to get up," he accused, but he already had the electric kettle switched on and was fetching two mismatched mugs and grabbing the various tins of tea until he found one that had enough for two good cups that would have the caffeine kick he expected Tonic was looking for.

Lapsang souchong it was, along with a quickly scribbled note on the magnetic board next to the cabinet about needing to get more tea when they had a chance.

Soon enough he was placing a steaming cup down on the table in front of Tonic, not bothering to set out any cream or sugar with it. His own cup had a healthy dose of cream but no sugar.

"Would it help if I told you that your answer wont change my opinion of you?" Nick prompted after taking a sip of his own tea.

He doesn't deny the accusation, settling comfortably into his own shoulders as Nick is kind enough to do exactly what he's asked of him.

It's not so much that Tonic distrusts Nick, it's more that Tonic distrusts all intelligent beings on a fundamental level, for no other reason than that they are fallible and occasionally unpredictable. But the tea is a good sign, so he sits back up and wraps his fingers around the mug instead. It's warm. Nice against his bad hand.

"Mm... It might." A small, breathy laugh. "I haven't decided yet."

But fair's fair, and the scene is set. He takes a sip of his tea before saying:

"The short story is that some thugs jumped me in a warehouse, and when it didn't go so well for them, the last one tried to dunk me in a vat of acid to slow me down. I put my arm out--" He holds out his bad arm, leaning in that direction to emphasize, "--Touched the bottom before my whole body could go under. Managed to shove myself back out. I think he expected it do burn a lot faster than it did."

It was painful, though. Very, very painful.

"I believe that one of my brothers is responsible."

Nick's eyebrows raised at the explanation. Whatever Tonic had gone though surely had to have been extremely painful, but 'a vat of acid' was something Nick hadn't considered at all. And to have your own family as a suspect...

He didn't pity Tonic, because Nick wasn't the pitying sort. It did make a lot of his cagey behavior make sense, though. If you couldn't trust your own family, who could you trust?

This, of course, coming from an orphan who only had some platonic ideal of family held in his mind to compare to.

"I have no idea what's up with my face," Nick answered, feeling rather bad that he didn't have some great truth to reveal to Tonic in return for him telling Nick what was clearly something he prefered to keep to himself. "I was found on Vsevolod - it's a small backwater agricultural planet. Wandered in from the badlands, I'm told, didn't speak for the first few years. I was so young at the time though I don't remember it or where I was before then. Your guess is as good as mine."

It may not be as dramatic as Tonic's story, but he listens carefully all the same. He gazes down at his mug as if thinking very deeply about the steam rising from its contents.

"Interesting."

His feelings on the matter are complicated, but strangely positive. Terrible things happen to people and families all the time. He's glad that Nick is now with people who will allow him to pursue whatever happiness he wants.

"May I ask you a personal question?"

Well, Tonic doesn't SEEM like he feels upset at Nick's answer being a bit lackluster compared to his own, so Nick is relieved there. Not that he let's himself think too hard on why he doesn't want to see Tonic upset.

"Shoot," he replies, and while he tries to sound put out by the further questions Nick has very few actual secrets, possibly even none at all, aside from the ones that are secrets even to himself.

No, Tonic seems quite content with what he's been given. He looks up at Nick again, regarding him with neutral curiosity.

"Does it ever bother you that you don't know?" A beat, and then smiles to himself and presses a hand against his chest for drama, "I mean, I'd lose my fucking mind, but I think we're very different people."

Nick bore his teeth over the rim of his mug in an expression that would be a smile if there had been any trace of mirth to it.

"I hate it," he said easily, the casual statement completely sincere but lacking his usual attempts at venom. "Some days it's all I can think about, I hate it so much. But freaking out over it isn't going to get me any answers, so I try to just ... live with it in the meantime."

And running off half-cocked wouldn't help either. Patience and diligence, those would get him answers, if there were any to get.

Tonic laughs again.

The trick seems to be to surprise him. The unexpected apparently cuts right into his sense of humor. He ends hunched over the table again, rubbing at the corner of his closed, scarred-up eye.

"I stand corrected. Thank you for telling me."

Oh, he's very pleased by this. He grins despite himself, knowing full well that it isn't socially acceptable to be so happy about someone revealing something they utterly despise.

"You should swing by for a physical sometime. Nothing creepy, I promise--" He holds his good hand up and waves his fingers as if to display that there's nothing up his sleeve. "--And I doubt I'd solve any mysteries, but it would be beneficial to know what your baselines are in case we run into an actual emergency... Or more flesh-nesting biohazards, or whatever."

It's a completely irrational thing to be prickled up by the offer. Tonic isn't some biochemist looking to make a name for himself with some new discovery, he is a coworker and against all odds ... a friend as well.

Nick can ask for help, and Tonic will give it. It's a strange thing after a life with only one person who you could rely on, and then just yourself after their passing. He smiles, just a little, this one with feeling as small and shy as it is.

"Right, I know my heart is a little farther to the right and down from where a human heart is -" closer to where the In'æt crystals are than where humans keep their hearts "- I'd hate to get shot and have the doctor not know what's an actual lethal wound or not."

He wouldn't be surprised if Nick never takes him up on the offer. He knows how many knives he's essentially promising not to stab them with. But the offer is there, all the same, and anchored to genuinely selfless intentions.

"Oh, embarrassing for me, really." He shakes his head, "I've already learned that painkillers are basically useless on Ash, so that's something I'm working on..."

"I have trouble finding working ones too," Nick admitted, stopping just shy of admitting to his migraines.

The distrust isn't about Tonic, it's about Nick learning that it doesnt6make you weak to reach a hand out.

"Ah, then it could benefit you as well."

Tonic kind of assumes that he is distrusted, in the same way he assumes that all others are innately untrustworthy... But it doesn't bother him. That's just the way of the world. He reaches for his datapad again as if considering going back to his work, but keeps his attention on Nick just a little longer.

"Either way, as much as I love to joke about my office hours--I do mean that you can drop by whenever. I'm usually awake."

"Thank you," While the words were a struggle to get out and Nick couldn't make eye contact while he said them, there was no less sincerity for it. He was fine now, but even without his migraines he had a bit of a glass jaw and it would be a big help to have someone else assist with that instead of having to do it all himself.

It had been a couple days and Nick's side was still hurting.

He had been determined to ignore it, like everything else left behind after getting picked up by and then thrown out again by the cops. It was fine. He'd been through worse. He kept telling himself that when the blood started rushing in his ears and his heart was hammering too loudly in his chest for him to hear anything else.

By now, though, if it was just bruises it probably shouldn't still hurt this bad... right?

Ultimately it was just because he actually liked Tonic that brought Nick to knock quietly at his door when everyone else was busy. If he held less affection for the man he probably would have just kept his chin down and continued to bear it without comment.

"Come in," Tonic says, from somewhere beyond the door, and closer to the floor than one might expect.

The interior of his room is not a surprise to anyone anymore. Still lots of pillows, with fabrics draped from the ceiling to keep the space quiet and hide the ugly, exposed guts of his walls. The air inside smells faintly of spices, like cinnamon or myrrh, though it's not immediately clear where it's coming from.

Tonic is entirely occupying one corner today, sitting half-buried underneath folds of a dark fabric, surrounded by other scraps, tins full of buttons, that kind of thing. He's working on slowly freeing himself from the project, carefully setting down his hand-stitching as he glances up towards his visitor.

"Oh good," He has a crooked smile for him, "To what do I owe the pleasure, Nick?"

While Nick had never personally been in an opium den before, he still got that impression from Tonic's quarters. The platonic ideal of an opium den, just add drugs.

He stepped inside, a bit stiff as he closed the door behind him. Both because he was bad at asking for help and the soreness of his side.

"... I think my ribs might have been more messed up than I thought from the last job," the last job, not the whole getting hassled by cops. "You said I could ask you for help anytime. So."

Tonic is glad. He didn't want to pry, as Nick was pretty good at deflecting prying--but he had been concerned about him ever since the tail end of their job hadn't ended so smoothly. But now that he was here of his own volition, the rules of the game could change.

"Ah, of course. Might have gotten cracked, we can check pretty easily. You're welcome to sit, if that's not uncomfortable."

As he folds the sleeves of the thing over themselves, his eyes linger on what is now vaguely identifiable as a half-finished dress. After just a second or two of extra thought, he regards Nick again with interest.

"Actually, while I have you here, maybe I can ask you something."

Nick's eyes were drawn to the project Tonic was working on, of course, it was just natural to have movement draw your attention. He had little interest in fashion edging towards negative interest in it thanks to too much hassling by Gabe, but Tonic wasn't obnoxious about it in the same way.

It was like the old metaphor of the sun and the wind having a contest to see who could get a coat off a man. The wind blew and blew to get the coat from him, but he only held it to himself tighter. When it was the sun's turn, however, he merely smiled in his warmth and radiance, and the man willingly shed the coat of his own volition.

"It doesn't hurt that much," Nick said quickly. "I can sit just fine."

Just. Ignore the wince of pain he can't hide as he has to shift his torso to do so.

The examination has already started, so of course Tonic notices... But he doesn't call attention to it, yet. Instead, he takes a moment to pick up his project and hang it up against the wall.

"At the risk of sounding completely insane," he starts, making it clear that he has no delusions of this being a normal thing that people do, "I've been thinking very deeply about something you said to me, oh, two months back now. About caring for people who have been left behind..."

He steps back from the dress, looking at the piece as a whole. It's... Well, the colors are easy, dark blues and black, but the shape of it is all over the place. It has a very slim bodice and sleeves juxtaposed by this messy, unfinished raw-edge of a collar. The skirt started as some ambitious, giant ball-gown of a thing with layers and layers of pleating, but that's been half-dissected and replaced with other things. Other ideas.

But if there's anything a layperson might find interesting about it, it's the vision that Tonic is trying to bring forth out of this piece. The left sleeve is covered in paper, ripped out of some old encyclopedia, maybe, bunched up into small clusters of blooms near the hem and flattening out to smooth patches near the shoulder. Underneath that is a very special fabric he bought on a binge--soft, indigo blue and covered in small, delicate silver stars. Used very sparingly, he's sewn swatches of it across the chest and onto the other arm, where he's trying to make it look as though the stars are flowing seamlessly into a delicate, silver filigree design along the hem of the right sleeve.

"I still don't really... Understand, I suppose," he admits, tilting his head to regard the dress as if it was one and the same with the topic, "But I think I'm getting closer. At some point I thought of stories that people leave behind... It made me very sad."

He says this very matter-of-factly, gesturing between the sleeves, as whatever is happening there seems to be his expression of that feeling. When he finally looks over at Nick, it's with very honest curiosity.

"So I guess I'd like to ask what you think. Am I on the right track, or is this... Just a mess?"

Nick would be the last person to call anyone insane. If nothing else, he hasn't known enough people to get a solid baseline for comparison. The same could he said for his understanding of fashion, really, so the idea of Tonic asking for his opinion on something he made seems like the craziest part.

That Tonic cared enough about something he said to be thinking about it months later, though - again, Nick isn't sure what to feel about that. He often feels like a ghost himself, seeing a world pass him by while being unable to truly affect it.

"I like the color," he says first, not standing to get a better look because his side is still hurting from sitting down in the first place.

"What do you think you didn't understand?"

"Mm, color is good."

He seems pleased to hear it, regarding his work one more time before he disengages to go pick up a few items out of his walls. Just when it seems like maybe he was ignoring the second question, he gives an answer.

"I don't understand why someone would care. I've barely cared what happens to lots of people I've known who wound up dead. Each glimmering star is just an insignificant pinprick in the vastness of the whole night sky, when you take a step back."

He comes to sit back down in front of Nick, tucking his prosthetic leg under his real one, setting a few simple instruments down next to him.

"But that also sounds a bit cruel, doesn't it? I don't know." For now, he rests his hands in his lap. "I've been trying to get to the bottom of it, but it's been slow."

"Youve known a lot of people, though," Nick replied. Once Tonic was sat down again he turned his attention back to the dress. He liked it, but he wasn't sure what about it he liked other than the color. He was never very good with words - too long never needing them. "Maybe that's why it's harder. Also, you're a doctor. If you care and you can't save someone... that's going to hurt a lot more. Life or death's already been decided for what I deal with."

He makes a thoughtful sound, considering what Nick says for a moment... Tonic hasn't been a doctor for very long, but he was something before that to which the statement still might apply. He wonders if he used to care more, when people died. If he'd ever had the thought to find out what happened to them. The thought of then giving that information to the people they left behind, though, that makes his stomach churn just imagining it.

"Oh." He says, suddenly, "Because it needs to stay a secret."

He glances up a second later, realizing with surprise that yes, he definitely said that out-loud. "Sorry, that was... I think I just found a piece of it."

The thoughtful sound draws Nick's attention again, and he watches while Tonic works through his thoughts. Nick is curious, but he's gotten so used to not prying, to waiting for whoever wants to talk to find the words on their own.

Prying just drives people away, and he's already very good at being left behind. He doesn't need to get even better at it.

"Finding things is what I do best. Hope it wasn't a bad realization." Nick says quietly. Tonic has been through more than his fair share of shit lately, after all.

"Mm, not necessarily. It might turn out good."

He thinks of moving on, glancing to Nick's side, the entire reason he'd visited in the first place. But what comes out of his mouth isn't a change of subject, but a thoughtful question punctuated by a smirk at the end.

"Are you interested? I feel like everyone here is too polite to ask about these sorts of things."

Seeing Tonic's attention go to his side reminded Nick why he was there in the first place. Grabbing at the edge of his shirt, Nick starts to lift it to show where there's still some residual bruising - with his two toned skin it paints a rainbow on his side at the bottom of his ribcage.

He freezes at being called out, unable to stop the glare that comes with it. Most of Nick's natural expressions involve glares.

"... People tend to just walk away if you ask them too many questions, so," he replies evasively, looking away from Tonic. It wasn't a 'no', but he's too embarrassed to say yes.

Oh, Tonic is immune to glares. If anything, they only make him more powerful. “Oh, I know.”

With a smirk, he looks curiously at the wound, trying to imagine how bad the damage could be underneath with his limited knowledge of how fast Nick might heal from injuries. But it’s not like there’s a rib sticking out... or any obvious re-bruising along the surface.

“But before that,” definitely not ruling their conversation out either, but there is work to be done. “May I touch you? I don’t want anything I do to be a surprise.”

His hands are still resting non-threateningly in his lap, in case there are any qualms.

"You're the doctor," Nick says with a small snort, still not looking at Tonic and keeping his shirt held up and out of the way. "... Yeah, I figured that would be involved when I asked."

Also part of why it took him so long to get up the courage to do so.

"I'm also very clever," he posits, scooting a little closer, "There are options if you don't like something, is all I'm saying."

He's still going to reach out and touch his side, though. He uses his good hand, starting at the edge of where he can see bruising and pressing very lightly to feel for swelling or anything else that shouldn't be there. While it seems like the good doctor can't pass up an opportunity to flirt--he actually moves fairly quickly, focused very intently on what he is doing despite continuing to talk at the same time.

"If it makes you feel any better, we could share back and forth again. I thought that was rather charming, last time."

Scum & Villainy // Nick & Tonic

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I'm lazy and just new threading instead of doing a new post lmk if this works

This is perfect and you are perfect

Re: This is perfect and you are perfect

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