fireincarnate | Video | Backdated to 30th

Video | Backdated to 30th | Private To Phillip

[She's nervous.

There's no getting around it, really. This is her first Inmate since Jason, and while that went well - she was a different person, then. It feels like a lifetime ago.

But it doesn't show in her smile. (She's grateful, today, that Phoenix doesn't need to sleep; the shadows of her nightmares don't hang beneath her eyes.]

Hey, Phillip. I'm Jean.

[She gestures to the file on her desk.]

I wanted to talk to you, before I read this. I won't do it at all, if you don't want me to.

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[That doesn't exactly inspire confidence in him to hear and that much is plain in his tone.]

That happen often?

[She glances back with a wry smile, gaze wistful.] Back when we were a bunch of teenagers, yeah. I always got out of it, though.

[She doesn't lose quite as many points with that. Teenagers have a tendency to be in over their heads. It's not necessarily due to a lack of skill, but it's certainly a lack of experience and foresight. Even worse, they have a blind spot to their own shortcomings.]

[One of the many reasons he bristles every time he comes across a teenage warden. He can't read their minds, but there's enough in their tone and body language to suggest they believe themselves to know best. Really, no matter what they've seen or lived through, they don't know shit. They're still just kids.]

Fortunate for you, then.

Yeah. [Her voice is softer, as she turns her head back into the sun.] We got lucky a lot.

I'm not saying we weren't competent, but we were still kids. [All the training in the world couldn't grant them experience. They had to earn that, and close calls came with the deal.]

[Others might take that as an opportunity to ask about more, or at the very least extend some kind of apology or acknowledgement of a tough time growing up. Philip does neither of these things. He has no interest in getting to know Jean very well and even less to hold her hand over things in the past.]

[He only agrees lightly with,] You were.

[She suppresses a sigh, as she pushes the last of the tres.]

There we are.

[There's no grass, just a spread of fern and moss. Jean pulls off her backpack, pulls out a thick blanket, and throws it down.

It really shouldn't land so straight, stretching out over the grass all by itself.]

[Sorry, gurl. The Admiral screwed you over with one helluva stubborn inmate with a...uh...glimmering personality and very chatty. Obviously. The narration coughs nervously.]

[Philip says nothing about the blanket, although he notices it. He only raises a silent eyebrow, finding it odd if not particularly noteworthy. He might be a gentleman for letting her sit first, but it's more for his benefit than hers. He sits about as far away from her as possible, slightly turned away from her, but not enough so that his back is to her in any capacity. No matter how little he wants to talk with her or how much he'd prefer this move along, he doesn't trust her enough to turn his back on her. In fact, where he sits keeps her on his left rather than his right.]

[He sure is charming the pants off her!!

Jean can tell what he's doing, as she rummages through her pack, but she doesn't take the wariness personally. He has no reason at all to trust her, not yet.]

Do you like turkey? [She glances up, smirking a bit.] Or would that be opening up too much?

[Whoa, keep your pants on, Jean. Jeez!!!]

[He won't even merit that second question any direct comment, but she does get a very flat look and response for her trouble.]

I'm not particularly hungry.

[SO MAYBE IT WOULD!!!]

[No, okay, that's ridiculous. But he is still a little ridiculous in his stubbornness in not taking anything from anyone regardless of how unimportant it might be to the other person (because food actually is incredibly important where he's from; it's not something you just offer to a stranger), or if he even wants it. He's keeping his debt to the people here as low as possible.]

[S I G H.

And she really does let herself sigh this time, as she pulls the baggie out. (It's got little bird designs etched into the thin plastic. Sometimes a cosmic-level telekinetic gets bored, okay.)]

Okay, I'll just eat by myself. [RUDE, PHILIP.]

For the record, if I offer to save you from rampaging velociraptors, will you refuse? [The words are light, wry, but there's an aching sort of heaviness behind them.]

[Philip's look towards her is cold and unimpressed. He answers her quick and without hesitation,]

Don't waste my time, Jean.

[His patience for any of this is beginning to wear a little thin.]

[Her words are just as sharp, as she sets up her plate.] I'm not the one wasting time.

You're stuck here, Philip. With me, and in general. You've got to make the most of it.

[For the first time, he smiles. But it's entirely insincere, scathing and judgmental. It's a flash of teeth more akin to a snarling animal than anything else. It's always an illusion of control from the wardens, he's found. They try to present inmate's with choice, but they're still unsurprisingly quick to tell them what they ought to do.]

And I suppose according to you, that would be what exactly? Talking about things with you? I'm not interested in a conversation.

Tough crap. [It's said almost lightly, as she takes a bit of her - very good, thank you very much - sandwich.] I'm not going to force you into anything, but the only person who can get you out of here is you. That means telling me how I can help you, and letting me do it.

Why is it all of you assume I want any help?

[Because it's not just limited to the wardens. There are a few inmates as well who try and take steps to ingratiate themselves to him. But all of it, no matter who or where it comes from? Aggravates him.]

Well, we could just leave you alone, and you could spend the rest of your life here, until you fade and die. [It's harsh, and it hurts to say, but she's clearly not getting anywhere with a softer approach.

She can do tough love.]

But that sounds an awful lot like giving up, and you don't really strike me as the type.

[He's really not. And that's about 90% of his damn problem when you get right down to it. But he fixes her with a hard look. Even if there's not much he can do to her here and now (possibly ever), this is the first time since he's been on the Barge he's looked remotely aggressive. He's been somewhat unnerving towards others, but never more than that.]

[But he refuses to say anything one way or another because he doesn't like her assuming anything about him or making any claims to know him. Even if she does eventually read the file, he still doesn't think she'll know anything. Just if looks alone could kill...]

[Jean's response, naturally, is a bright grin.] Finally. There's definitely a person in there.

I've gotta warn you, throwing a punch at me wouldn't go well. ...Unless we're just sparring. Want to do that sometime?

[Excusez-vous, this is not something to be grinning about!]

No.

[The idea of any kind of fighting that doesn't result in killing something or someone? Well, that's just a foreign concept to Philip at this point; even the rigged fights at Woodbury seem miles and miles behind him at this point. You fight because you have to, because someone has to be put down. Or something needs to be put down. Whichever the case may be.]

[But more than that, the less he has to do with Jean, the better.]

[Interesting. She's not cowed, but the smile fades.]

All right, no sparring. What did you do for fun?

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Video | Backdated to 30th | Private To Phillip

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