sam "flying jackhammer" alexander ✧ nova (
headinjuries) wrote in
station722016-10-05 07:18 pm
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Entry tags:
day 42
WHO: miniSam and whoever drops in
WHERE: The Bearings
WHEN: Day 42, mid-day
SUMMARY: Watching the news. Trashtalking Ngozi. Chess.
WARNINGS: None yet?
[ So here's a familiar sight: Sam Alexander watching the news, stretched out on the floor in front of the screen that he is only ever going to think of as a TV no matter what you want to call it, thank you very much. There's a chessboard in front of him, a can of a soda by his elbow, and an expression on his face that hovers somewhere between "unimpressed" and "disgusted," because guess who's being interviewed? ]
"Don't think that because we're investigating subspace right now that we aren't looking into other options as well -"
[ Sam snorts derisively as he mutes the sound, because he's really not in the mood. ]
Yeah, sure you are.
[ Back to that chess game. Or, on closer inspection, maybe it's not quite chess; it's something played on the same board of sixty-four squares, but the pieces are oddly shaped and there are a few extras sitting discarded to the side with the captured pieces, because he just picked out whatever game looked the closest and ignored the rules it came with.
It really figures that Ilde offered to play with him, and when he finally found a board...she's in a coma.
Because hey, it's not like enough was going badly already, right? He should've expected.
So instead he's playing against himself, turning the board around after each move, frowning thoughtfully as he moves a - well, he's decided it's a knight, whatever that piece is really supposed to be - and stopping, not letting go of the piece and committing to the move just yet.
Yes, lil' biscuit can do thoughtful.
Who knew? ]
WHERE: The Bearings
WHEN: Day 42, mid-day
SUMMARY: Watching the news. Trashtalking Ngozi. Chess.
WARNINGS: None yet?
[ So here's a familiar sight: Sam Alexander watching the news, stretched out on the floor in front of the screen that he is only ever going to think of as a TV no matter what you want to call it, thank you very much. There's a chessboard in front of him, a can of a soda by his elbow, and an expression on his face that hovers somewhere between "unimpressed" and "disgusted," because guess who's being interviewed? ]
"Don't think that because we're investigating subspace right now that we aren't looking into other options as well -"
[ Sam snorts derisively as he mutes the sound, because he's really not in the mood. ]
Yeah, sure you are.
[ Back to that chess game. Or, on closer inspection, maybe it's not quite chess; it's something played on the same board of sixty-four squares, but the pieces are oddly shaped and there are a few extras sitting discarded to the side with the captured pieces, because he just picked out whatever game looked the closest and ignored the rules it came with.
It really figures that Ilde offered to play with him, and when he finally found a board...she's in a coma.
Because hey, it's not like enough was going badly already, right? He should've expected.
So instead he's playing against himself, turning the board around after each move, frowning thoughtfully as he moves a - well, he's decided it's a knight, whatever that piece is really supposed to be - and stopping, not letting go of the piece and committing to the move just yet.
Yes, lil' biscuit can do thoughtful.
Who knew? ]
no subject
[ Granted, he's used to motivating himself against getting punched in the face or having his head shoved in a toilet, which is technically easier to get mad about than losing a chess game. On the other hand, it kind of comes down to the same thing. Everyone figures he's too small to ever beat Moffat in a fight. And with his constantly skating the bottom of the grade curve and his horrible attendance record, everyone figures he's not smart enough for chess.
Sam's always liked proving people wrong.
With the board reset, he shifts his position a little and props up his chin on his elbows. ]
You want black or white?
no subject
But for now, chess.]
Black. [-he chooses
and no one was surprised.]i suck at chess so just kinda....glossing over /o\
[ Of course Bruce would want to sit and wait for the second move. No pressure there.
But Sam's not the type to wallow in indecision, even if the pressure's on. He's the type to make a decision, and worry about whether it was the best one later. So he doesn't spend long staring at the board before he slides one of his pawns forward.
There are only so many opening moves worth making, anyway. ]
lol i'm garbage at it too. fake it til u make it
For most, this would be the time to fill in the beginning of the game with idle chatter. Bruce is... not the best person to go to for that specifically, but he does seem to be willing to strike up a relevant conversation today.]
So how have things been going concerning the management of your powers?
[Puked lately, Sam?]
no subject
Okay, I guess.
[ He's definitely improving, but there's only so good you can feel about an improvement that amounts to "it takes longer before I totally lose my lunch." ]
Still feels like crap every time I use them, but I guess I'm getting better at ignoring it.
no subject
He'll make a move after Sam does, but then crosses his arms across his chest in consideration. He's looking at the board, but also turning over these thoughts in his head.]
Do you trust your powers?
[It's an open-ended question, but purposefully so.]
no subject
Always with the tough questions, Bruce. ]
...I don't know.
[ The instinctive response to any tough question. ]
no subject
I haven't even considered using mine. Not since I first arrived.
no subject
[ He's not sure if there's no way to or if he just isn't doing it right, but he's tried to shut it off and go back to not knowing a lie when he hears it, at least for a while, not just because of the nausea but because he really doesn't like knowing just how much crap most people are full of. He's not the type to delude himself about everyone being great people with good intentions, but he'd like to be able to hope for a little more from some of them... ]
no subject
[That causes him to frown, though. Even if Sam felt the same, could he find a way to turn them off completely?]
It's a double-edged sword. Learning to control it would be the easiest route to take, but that requires practice and dedication to a set of skills we shouldn't trust. Not unquestioningly. But I don't think everyone sees it that way.
no subject
[ What a great choice. ]
I dunno how much to trust it, but if I don't get it under control I'm gonna go crazy.
no subject
There's a difference between controlling them and indulging yourself in them. [He pauses, a hesitation.] We've asked you to utilize your powers a lot lately; that probably hasn't made it any easier.
[Is that a smallest admission of guilt? It may just be.]
no subject
[ Which is his way of excusing the admission of guilt; even if it's not great to use them, it's gotten them leads they might not have been able to get, otherwise, and if that's what it takes for them to stop the bombings and get off this rock, he doesn't really blame anyone for wanting to take advantage of it.
(Stopping the bombings, not the plight of technological developments, is more his concern here. It's more straightforward.) ]
no subject
Just because something is useful doesn't mean you need to over rely on it. There has to be a limit; we should have been more creative.
no subject
[ Punctuated by sliding one of his knights forward. ]
no subject
[Bruce moves one of his own pieces forward as soon as Sam finishes. He had already been considering what moves to make while Sam had been thinking.]
no subject
So we do better next time. Without the self-flagellation to get us there.
no subject
That's all well and good, but you don't just get "better" by hoping it goes more smoothly the next time around.
no subject
[ A moment, before he moves his own piece. ]
It just means you're thinking about next time instead of the one you can't change.
no subject
[For him, should be the sentiment that he leaves hanging there, perhaps echoed more clearly in their shared link if Bruce allowed it. He looks down at the piece Sam had moved, brow knitting.]
The mistakes we've made in the past define how we react to the future. I'm not going to sit idly by and wallow in it, but I'm also not going to pretend to be okay with how much this whole mission has relied on your abilities, at the risk of your own health.
[He means more than just nausea, of course. He means whatever unforeseen consequences comes from using the symbiote unquestioningly.]
no subject
Ha.
There's a phrase Sam likes to avoid if there was ever one. Because if he gives it enough thought to acknowledge when he's pretending, there's usually just...too much to deal with and people are relying on him to be okay, whether as the only functional male in his house or as the superhero standing between them and whatever.
And it's far more obvious where his thoughts are going than Bruce's - just skating on the edge of stuff falling apart and then pulling back hard before they can start circling the drain.
He can't deny that there's a point there, though. ]
What do you think happens. If we use it too much, I mean.