psychoshenanigans | Scum & Villainy // Nick & Tonic

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nick,
tonic

Scum & Villainy // Nick & Tonic

It's a quiet day on the ship. Most of the crew is out gathering supplies or ship parts, or holed up in whatever nook of the ship they've taken over as their own. Tonic is at the galley table today, dressed in what he would consider very casual clothing and whatever eyeliner didn't get scrubbed off the night before, picking through a datapad to research potential leads.

Whatever Nick is doing in the galley, it has been happening without interruption for a blessedly long time... But eventually, Tonic's attention wanders, and he suddenly asks one of those blunt questions that are becoming the trademark way the doctor chooses to interact with him.

"Why's your face look like that, anyway?" Perfectly casual, he rests his chin on his hand. "What's the deal?"

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"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."

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Scum & Villainy // Nick & Tonic

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