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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Aug 31, 2009 10:23:46 GMT -5
::Pietro nodded slightly; he would not miss her opening night.:: "Tell me where and when."
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Post by Typhoid on Sept 16, 2009 21:36:52 GMT -5
"It'll be a couple of months yet. They don't even have the principles cast." The waitress brought their drinks just then, and took their food orders. She ordered maltagliati con galletti e pancetta, which was basically pasta with mushrooms and several types of cheese.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Sept 20, 2009 20:26:48 GMT -5
"When it is closer," ::Pietro amended. He would save the date as soon as she had it. When the waitress asked for his order, he requested a pasta dish with sausage, because it was a safe choice; it was difficult to make incorrectly.::
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Post by Typhoid on Sept 20, 2009 21:03:47 GMT -5
The waitress wrote down their orders and left, leaving them alone once again. "I will." She took a drink of her tea. "Can I tell you something, that's probably pretty important, at least to me?"
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Sept 20, 2009 21:06:10 GMT -5
::Pietro's eyebrows knitted together at the question, and he asked,:: "Why couldn't you?"
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Post by Typhoid on Sept 20, 2009 21:09:52 GMT -5
"It might take some explaining," she said, not trying to be mysterious but coming off that way anyways.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Sept 20, 2009 21:14:32 GMT -5
::That was ominous, though not sinister. They had agreed to set aside what had happened and try from this point forward, and they were in public. It could not be intimate, and thus Pietro nodded,:: "Speak."
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Post by Typhoid on Sept 20, 2009 21:57:57 GMT -5
"You already know...what happened to me as a child," she began, not going into detail as Pietro was more then aware what had happened without her having to tell him. "It split me apart, in my head, and you've seen that too. I don't think it would have been nearly as bad as it became if it wasn't for Mary, but the Professor doesn't believe that's all of it." They'd been having regular sessions for a long time now, ever since Typhoid's first experiment with fully shutting down her powers. Some were intense and highly personal, going over memories that Typhoid didn't realize she had, mostly because they'd been shielded from her by one personality or another. "I might have had a telepathic connection, with my sister." It was another piece of information the Professor had shared with her, the foundation of a new theory they were working with.
"It might have helped to keep the alters under control, maybe even erased the need for them after our powers came. But I lost my sister. The Professor thinks that was the final straw." She took another drink of her tea, continued.
"I was alone for most of my life after Bella died. I didn't develop an attachment to anyone to try to replace what I'd lost in her. The isolation kept the alters alive, and then Mary took over, and I had to have the others. I would have disintegrated faster without them, she unbalanced me so badly." She nodded her head towards him, as if to say 'you know, you saw what it was like.'
"I met Tim, but Mary was still there, always. He was only a calming influence because his powers could combat mine, and keep her under control. You...were different." She took a breath to order her thoughts. "I'm not meant to be isolated. The Professor thinks my mind is made to share a link with someone, even if it's not through telepathy as it should have been. You met me when Mary was still disrupting my mind, causing chaos where I shouldn't have any. And then her memories had to be dealt with, and for a long while I still had the others. I couldn't let go. But now that I have a link with someone, that is lasting...I don't hear voices anymore."
It was new news, an explanation for their sessions, something Typhoid didn't usually talk about at all, because much of the content would only have made him angry. But it was important for him to know what she was telling him. Her desire for constant contact, for the attention that being on stage and acting gave her, it was all wrapped up together. "I am healing because you're here."
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Sept 20, 2009 22:19:32 GMT -5
::Pietro absorbed that silently. He trusted her ability to relay information to him, and he trusted Uncle's psychological skills, if not his personal judgment regarding certain individuals. If this was Uncle's theory, he put his belief behind it, and if it was worthy of belief...
With nothing to say that would be of merit, or would not ring hollow despite the sincerity, he did what came naturally. He reached out and touched his hand to hers, allowing that to convey what he could not speak.::
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Post by Typhoid on Sept 21, 2009 21:40:12 GMT -5
She took his hand, knowing full well that he was not given to speaking a lot, and that his silence had no dark meaning behind it. The touch was more then enough. She traced a finger over his palm, smiling a little down at their hands.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Sept 21, 2009 21:56:14 GMT -5
::Pietro reached out his other hand, to sandwich hers between his two larger ones.::
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Post by Typhoid on Sept 30, 2009 20:27:32 GMT -5
The food came then, and she had to withdraw her hands, but as a mild form of celebration, she ordered a small glass of white wine before the waitress left.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Sept 30, 2009 20:29:54 GMT -5
::Pietro did not object when she ordered wine; he trusted her to know her own limits. He set his napkin in his lap and examined his food.::
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Post by Typhoid on Oct 12, 2009 22:09:41 GMT -5
"Does it look all right?" she asked.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Oct 12, 2009 22:16:38 GMT -5
::Pietro lifted his head and nodded slightly.:: "Yes. Recognizable."
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