calling_logs | So when they say 'quiet' they really just mean 'as terribly dangerous as usual'

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So when they say 'quiet' they really just mean 'as terribly dangerous as usual'

Who: Steve and Dejah
What: Continuing from here, Steve and Dejah escape the beasties in a treehouse
When: Mid-afternoon
Where: City of Adventure,
Notes & Warnings: Mentions of blood and poisoning.

Now that the beasties are done with, Steve's going to climb his way up to the treehouse and collapse on the floor. Collapse because that was much harder than he'd expected it would be and while he knows he has some work to do, that he needs to check up on Dejah--

Dammit, he needs to get up and check on Dejah.

It hurts, and he's sore, but he pushes himself up and goes to take a look at her, check her wounds, see if any of them have turned an unsavory color. It's hard to tell, given her red skin and her blue blood, but so far, hopefully, so good.

"Sorry about the toss. I just... I needed to get you up there and I couldn't think of anything else to get you out of harms way. I hope it didn't hurt too much. How we doing?"

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They make their way back down the path, the early morning sun cutting low through the trees, and the mists still receding back down to the water's edge.

"That must be a relief," she says, cutting a glance at him. Doesn't really answer her question, though, so she'll have to reconsider how to ask it another way.

"Steve? Can I ask you a personal question?"

He pauses, taking the moment to catch a breath he doesn't need that his mind insists he does. He leans one arm against a tree and turns to her with a quick nod.

"Certainly. Absolutely. Anything you like."

She gives him a little space, watching him with a bit of concern in her gaze.

"Are you feeling all right?"

Okay, so not the question she was going to ask, but he's more important than her curiosity.

That gets a blink out of him, mostly because that was not the question he was expecting.

"Oh yeah," he assures her with a smile, and there's no shortness to his breath. It's just a disagreement between his brain and his body on whether he needs the rest or not. "I'm just fine. Was... that the question?"

She peers up at him, brow furrowed.

"I was -- wondering if um," she pauses to shake her head, that same color darkening her cheeks. He's definitely not imagining it this time. "If you're seeing anyone. Back home. Or here. Possibly."

Sweet holy mother have mercy, she's terrible at this.

That. was. That was a question. Wow. So. That was a question she'd asked. She'd asked him. That question. About someone. And seeing them. Well. W e l l.

How does he answer that? How is he supposed to answer that?

After a moment of his brain being entirely blank of all language, he comes back to the truth.

"No. I'm not- no. I don't-" a breath in. "No."

I don't.

Ah. Well, that wasn't exactly the answer she was looking for, but she knows, one should never ask a question one truly doesn't want an answer to. She swallows, gives him a tiny smile in apology.

"Oh. Well, then. We should get going, perhaps. Yes. I'd like to find my sword, if you don't mind? It belonged to my grandmother. I think I told you that. Yes."

Words, Dejah. What the hell happened to your words?

"Have anyone!" bursts out of him as soon as the words actually come together in his brain. "I don't-- I'm not seeing anyone. Now. Here. Or at home."

Goddamn, he literally couldn't have done worse at that. That's why he breathes in deep and glances around where they are.

"I'll just... look for your sword now."

She's just far enough away that the words make her turn back, blue eyes flaring bright.

"So you don't -- fancy anyone, then?" The note of hope in her voice is unmistakable.

She doesn't even notice the mud she's standing in, seeping up around her ankles now.

"NO!" it comes out in something very much like a squeak. He swallows and coughs and shakes it off before looking over at her.

"I mean, that is-" a deeeeeeep breath in, "I'm not seeing anyone. And there's no one I've been... wanting to see."

She meets his gaze and drops her chin, her eyebrows creeping up, a playful little smile creeping over her lips.

"Well, then. We'll just have to see what we can do about that."

She starts to take a step and the mud gets the better of her. Her body turns, her feet don', there's a stutter step, and a bit of arm flailing before she lands in the mud with squelch.

"Shit. Oh well done, Dejah. Well done." At least she got her hands up to brake the fall?

He's trotting over almost immediately, reaching down a hand with some care to make sure that the mud doesn't get him. He doesn't actually care about falling over in mud; he's had worse. But he'd rather not fall on her and aggravate her wounds.

"Caaareful now. You're probably still a little woozy from the poison. I've heard it takes a while for that kind of stuff to filter out."

Interesting work conversation with Natasha, anyone?

She takes his hand and uses him as a counterweight to extract herself from the mire. "Yes, you're absolutely right, thank you. I believe that was pure physics working against me."

She holds onto him until she's on solid ground. It makes her feel a bit like a drunken thoat. She looks at the mud on her hands and back to where she's gotten him all muddy again.

"Well, at least we can get cleaned up a little before we head back?"

"That is the idea," he reminds her, trying to both look on the bright side and give her something to focus on that isn't the fact that she just fell in mud. He certainly knows how it feels like to be on the other side of this kind of discussion.

She wipes her hands on her skirts, smiles up at him. It's easy to forget about the bruises to her ego when he's here to pick her up. She opens her mouth to say something when a glint of light catches her eye. She leans over, shielding her eyes from the sun.

"Steve? Is that -- is that a door?"

A door?

He turns and starts looking around, not sure what in the world she could be talking about. It's not like they're in a location that encourages doors, after all. And they hadn't seen anything like a domicile since the treehouse.

"I don't even know where to look," he admits, "but we're coming up on the waterfall now."

Dejah's eyes never leave the point their fixed on, and she points as she walks down to the beach. Her sword is sunk in the muck and she squats to pick it up without ever altering her gaze. She rolls it over one wrist, slinging mud in a wide arc and revealing a silver blue blade.

"There, just behind the waterfall itself. It looks for all the world like a door way. Come on, I want to take a closer look."

She doesn't wait for him. She's still at less than optimal stamina from the previous night's adventures, but her curiosity fuels her as she presses forward.

"What in the name of Issus could that be?"

He starts to follow her, but then he remembers the fall in the mud and he reaches over gently to take her arm.

"Hey, Dejah? Dejah? Maybe... maybe we get washed up , get those wounds looked at back in the main city, and we come back here to check it out, huh?"

She blinks, as if coming awake from sleep walking, and glances down at where he's touching her again. A moment later, she's looking up into his face.

"Yes, of course." A sheepish smile comes over her features, making the lines of her clan markings dance around her cheek and temple. "You're absolutely right."

She turns her arm and lets his hand slip down into hers. "Shall we?"

He gives her hand a squeeze before carefully walking her back towards the pool beneath the waterfall, watching the path beneath their feet to make sure he watches for any other pitfalls. Soon enough-

"Here we go. Should I-"

He kind of gestures towards where he'd first seen her with a sling of one thumb.

"How about I look for your sword while you get washed up?"

Dejah arches an eyebrow. "You mean this sword?"

She tosses it to him, idly. "I'd appreciate it if you stood guard while I bathed, Ca-- Steve."

He catches the sword more smoothly than anything he's said in the last five minutes before swinging it around thoughtfully and pointing towards a good spot for him to start his 'patrol'. He'll just... get on that. Yup.

She gives a quiet laugh and shakes her head. The aches and pains of the yesterday's adventures make getting undressed a little slow, but it's hardly the first time she's had to bathe herself while battle weary. Boots first. She finds the same log he'd obviously used the day before and settles in, hissing under her breath as she bends to undo the laces.

Yeah, it's going to be a few minutes before she's undressed and in the water.

And Steve will spend that time patrolling the area. No, he won't look. It doesn't matter how long she's bathing; she's injured, she's vulnerable, she's trying to clean up and she's hurting. Not only would it be disrespectful, it's inappropriate. But he can't help that he's thinking about what it might be like to go to Romance... well, with someone.

The water feels amazing and she dips beneath the surface, scrubbing away the mud and the last few bits of ichor. She finds a warm strand of the water fall to stand under to give her long dark hair a thorough rinsing.

And yet, she keeps an eye on him. Or rather, the silhouette of his shoulders. Not even a glance. (John would have at least stolen a glance.)

Eventually, after carefully marking the location of the doorway behind the upper falls in her memory, and after carefully getting dressed again, she calls out to him.

"You are from the great city of New York, are you not?"

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