nextgenerationmarvel | And Athos Makes Four!

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And Athos Makes Four!

Rachel had warned her that the fourth of the turtles would be the hardest of all of them. That was precisely why she hadn't set to track him down. He was, after all, a ninja. He'd be good at hiding from her. So, instead, she had decided to draw him out. She had holed herself up in the library, wearing one of her simplest outfits, with a full afternoon tea spread out in front of her. It wasn't a whole Japanese tea thing, no. Brooke didn't know too much about that, and the last thing she wanted was to insult the turtle any. So, she'd kept it simple, and done tea the way she knew how.

A well-worn copy of The Tale of Genji sat next to her, untouched. Was it there for decorative reasons? No. Brooke was honestly intrigued by the idea of a Japanese noblewoman from way back when having written such a large, classic tomb. But she didn't want to seem too occupied. She wanted - she needed - to seem welcoming.

Gingerly, Brooke scooped some sugar into a delicate china cup and mixed it in with the tea and milk. The delicate scent of the Assam tea wafted up and Brooke sighed a small sigh of contentment. She really did enjoy this process of afternoon tea, but she usually took it in her room, where no one could disturb her.

Today, though, she fully expected to be disturbed.

She took a delicate, dainty sip, and she waited.

Please, let this work.

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Brooke nodded and passed the cup and saucer forward.

Manners your chiv? Chiv? Chivalry?

"I'm sorry, I'm not certain I quite followed that second statement." Brooke loaded up a plate with a few smoked salmon and cucumber sandwiches and passed that towards the turtle as well. "Are you asking me about manners and chivalry?"

"Not a blood on a particular bone-box rattling? Only get lanned by listening." He scratched the bottom of his chin under his mask.

He shook his head. He reached for the plate of food to drag it closer to the edge of the table. "Nah, gully. No chivalry at all. I'm not the samurai."

"Though ninjas also have their own code of honour, I'm sure," Brooke said. That was, quite obviously, the only thing she understood out of the whole bit. Daintily, Brooke nibbled on a smoked salmon sandwich herself.

"Most leatherheads think so." He picked up his tea cup. In a perfect yet slightly hidden mimic of Brooke's earlier tea sipping, he drank some tea. Though it was hard to quite tell if he actually drank when the cup disappeared under his mask. He did make sipping noises however.

"Bang around the book vault much?" He settled the tea cup back on its saucer without a spot of dampness on his red half-mask.

"I come here sometimes for iced tea and some light reading," Brooke agreed. "I wait until the last of my fashion magazine subscriptions come in and then I like to relax here. Usually, though, I take afternoon tea in my room, alone." Mostly because this kept her out of everyone's way and also because she could escape and get a few minutes of peace. "I've never seen you around, though, so I can only assume you were avoiding me. Until now, at least."

He slipped one the sandwiches under his mask and chowed silently down. His superhuman sense of taste telling him every ingredient and how fresh they were. Also, it let him know there was absolutely no poison on them with his initial lick on the outside.

"Don't appreciate being hunted in the Cage," he said after the sandwich was gone.

"I apologize," Brooke said. "It wasn't my intention to make you or your brethren feel hunted." And it wasn't. But Rachel had given her an assignment, and Brooke wasn't going to fail. She couldn't fail.

She paused.

"Or is it Pete that doesn't appreciate being hunted for?" Brooke set her cup and saucer down and leaned forward. "I'm not trying to hurt him or expose him, Athos. He's scared and - not counting you guys - he's alone. I'm only trying to help." After all, had Brooke wanted to hurt him - Rachel's orders or no - she would have manipulated the turtles with her powers.

He quirked an eyebrow at her and grabbed another sandwich. He wasn't impressed, appreciative or put off by the admission. Though there was a background simmering anger with him.

"Wigwag away," he commented as the sandwich disappeared under his mask for the test for poison and then eat it routine.

Brooke did feel that anger simmering beneath the surface. She didn't reach out to feel it, but it was coming off of him enough that the feeling was easy to notice.

Brooke sighed softly and took another sip of her tea.

This was already difficult.

"I'm only trying to understand, Athos."

The turtle brought his feet down from the chair they were propped up on. He turned to lean closer to the table.

Though he delicately moved the tea cup out of the way before his chest hit it.

"What's a body know of fear and loathing?" He eyed her carefully.

Brooke raise an eyebrow at the change in posture.

Fine. He wanted the kid gloves off and all of the cards on the table?

He got it.

She pushed her shoulders back just so and raised her chin just so.

"Considering I loathe almost everyone and dish out fear better than most people, quite a bit. Considering that it's my unique powerset to understand and manipulate those emotions, more than you'd think. Considering that for most of my life, I've been terrified of being outed to society as a mutant, more than you know, because that's a ruthless set and I could lose absolutely everything I'm working to gain."

Her lips twitched for a moment as she collected her thoughts and her words. "But never once have I directed any of the negative energy that I throw around like confetti towards any of you turtles. You're mutants, same as I. We're on the same side."

Athos tsked and shook his head. "Wrong direction, thought-slave. For most of it."

He settled back in the chair as he picked up the tea. The cup disappeared under his mask, and he slurped up a mouthful.

Edited 2014-10-22 23:16 (UTC)

Brooke frowned and tilted her head, studying Athos.

"You're asking what Pete knows of fear and loathing?"

Athos' black, glossy eyes narrowed.

"No, berk. You. How much you tumble to depends on the right perspective. Berks who spread it outward, aren't gonna get a sod."

He set the tea cup back on the saucer with a soft clink. He reached for another sandwich.

"Hey," Brooke said. "You're speaking to a lady. Don't call me berk." She prepared another cup of tea for herself. "I'm trying to understand you here, Athos, but we're clearly running into some miscommunication issues here. Help me help you, please."

"Fine, cony. You ain't figured it out. I don't need help." He popped the sandwich into his mouth a chewed. His anger spiked a bit.

Though he was not moving away from what he had left of food and drink.

"You say that, but we both know it's untrue," Brooke said. "You may feel as though you don't need help, but you do. So let's get down to it. Clearly you're the last line of defense here."

"Your worms are working overtime, ain't they?" He put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on the heel of his palm.

He motioned for her to continue on with his other hand.

"My worms might be working overtime, but they're giving me nothing," Brooke replied. "It's like a puzzle. I can grasp part of what the missing piece is, but the edges are too abstract for me to fully hold on to, you understand?"

He tapped the side of his face with one of his broad, thick fingers. He sniffed a bit. He could have been pursing his... beak, but he had a facemask to prevent people from seeing that.

"Paper an' pen." Then he waited.

Brooke narrowed her eyes at Athos for a moment before reaching into her handbag and pulling out a pocket-sized red Moleskine notebook and a pen. Dutifully, she passed the items over to Athos.

"Here you go."

Athos stopped using his hand from a chin rest and took the notebook. He set it on the table. Rather than flip through it to see if Ms. Uptight had naughty doodles in it, he flipped to a blank page somewhere in the middle.

On the top half of the page, he made a circle. He drew arrows coming off the circle to point at the edges of the page. "You."

He moved his pen to the bottom half of page. He made another circle. He drew arrows coming from the circle, but all the arrows pointed to the center. "The sod."

Brooke stared intently at the two drawings. "This is about him literally hiding in his shell, right?" she asked. "Or is it that my powers are having a negative effect on him?"

Athos huffed out a breath. "Perceptions, thought-slave. And reactions."

He pointed at the upper circle. "Cony."

He pointed to the lower circle. "The sod."

"Can you unvague this up for me a little more? I get you're not a man of words, but sometimes, no matter how intelligent a woman may be, she needs the thing handed to her in a silver platter."

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