Movie Night VII: The Spinoff

[unrecovered]

Who| Wash and anyone who cares to join
What| Movie Night!
Where| The usual lounge
When| After Resistance Is Futile/An Eye For an Eye and the subsequent food fight
Warnings/Notes| None?

There's something to be said for a return to normality, though they're not really there yet. The food fight was a good way to decompress; now it's time to trot out the usual tradition of snacks and old cinema.

Chairs are arranged, blankets laid out, and the usual line of tables is piled high with standard movie snacks and drinks, though they're far less carefully arranged than usual. There are blank tables next to the spread, for those who wish to bring snacks to share. The usual poster is outside the door, with a summary of the movie, its MPAA rating, and the customary Movie night is neutral territory note. New this time is a handwritten note next to the summary that reads It's parody. It's supposed to be weird.

The movie tonight is Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

Comments

[unrecovered]

He honestly can't blame Connie for staying away from him - after all, it's the second time she's received a killing blow from a teammate. He wouldn't want to talk to him either after that.

He's a little surprised to see her here, but pleased - hopefully it means she's coping well enough to be in public. Good. He'd needed a full-on breakdown before he'd managed that.

He's even more surprised when she leans over from behind him and offers him a cupcake box. He blinks, takes that moment to gather himself, and takes the box with one hand and her hand, very gently, with the other. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, looking down at the box and not at her. He's on the mend, but he's still not sure he can look her in the eye.

[short_changed]

Not just away from him, away from people in general unless the came to find her. As far as things go, in the moment she'd slipped and failed her team, she got the easy end of it. All she had to do was sit still before the virus took hold; Wash was the one who had to pull the trigger.

Connie gives his hand a squeeze, not letting go when she tips her chin towards the box.

"Open it."

It's silly, but sometimes they need a bit of ridiculousness to help cope with horrible things. Which is why waiting inside the box is a personalized mini-cake with a buttercream cat on the corner of it. Written in the middle it says, 'That mission was bullshit. Sorry.' Connie might have gotten and odd look from the baker when she requested the message but- well, she's sure they've had worse things requested by Legionnaires.

[unrecovered]

If she's not letting go, neither is he. That point of contact is a grounding influence when he's still a bit unsure of himself.

He places the box in his lap and carefully wiggles the lid off with his free hand, getting a good look at what's inside-

And he starts to laugh, breathy and quiet, and his expression crumples until it borders grin and grimace and the laughter nearly becomes quiet sobs. It's hard to tell what kind of emotional release this is, but whatever it is, he's needed it.

"Yeah," he manages after a bit, voice a little shaky. "Yeah, it really did."

[short_changed]

She thinks that's a laugh but it's too raw, like there's a fine edge running through it.
It might've been a better idea to find him somewhere private but there would be distractions here. Both of them could definitely use them after this.

Leaning forward she slips her hand out of his and curls her arms around his shoulders, resting her cheek against his hair while he lets it out.

"I'm okay," she murmurs, "I'm sorry you had to make the shot."

[unrecovered]

He's not cry-laughing for long - the breakdown he'd had a short while back had taken care of most of the emotional overload, and this is just one of the last bits of it. He reaches up with his now-free hand as he breathes, laying it against her cheek. "Why are you apologizing when I'm the one who shot you?"

His voice wavers just a bit on those last few words. He may be doing better, but he's not back to a hundred percent yet.

[short_changed]

Connie holds him a little tighter as she tips her head into his palm, huffing out a soft, shaky breath at his question.

"Because I had the easy part of it. It...it was a mercy I was grateful for, and a terrible thing to ask of you. I know how much it would tear at me if it were the other way around."

It's no new nightmare for her. A variation of an old one sure, but a much kinder version. The robovirus would be a new thing to stress over but that's her problem, not Wash's.