careful what you wish for. (fulfills) wrote in invol_rpg, @ 2013-04-25 15:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log, callum nightingale, libby ross |
WHO: Callum Nightingale, Libby Ross.
WHAT: Callum TRIES to be a good friend, and Libby isn't having any of it.
WHEN: Wednesday, 24 April, evening.
WHERE: The Lake.
WARNINGS: This doesn't end well. Apparently half our characters are fighting and I only just realised this.
STATUS: Complete.
Outside was Callum’s favourite place at IVI. Most nights, if he wasn’t hanging out with Carmela, he could be found wandering around the campus grounds until he felt like going to bed. Or sometimes he’d combine the two activities, because what was more romantic than a nighttime stroll complete with stargazing? Tonight he was alone though. Or at least he’d thought he was but as he approached the lake he noticed Libby there. Callum didn’t claim to be good at having friends, friendships he did have tended to turn into relationships or were forgotten once he entered a relationship with someone else or he left the country again, but not being able to leave the country meant he had made friends at IVI who he couldn’t just desert, who actually called him out on it when he tried. Which was a pain because it meant he was stuck caring about people even when he didn’t want to, like Libby even though she didn’t seem able to talk to him without starting an argument anymore. It meant he couldn’t just keep walking and ignore her for now, as he probably would have if this had been a friend he’d made in any other place. “Hey,” he said as he approached her, more cautiously than usual. “Nice night.” Libby brushed her hand roughly against her eyes and sniffed, hoping he didn't notice. "Yeah. Guess it is." She kept her eyes fixed on the lake that spanned in front of them, her fingers playing with the dusty dirt and pebbles on the ground as she pulled against the sparsely growing grass struggling to grow along the desert landscape. He took a seat next to her, his focus on undoing his shoes instead of on her. “Okay?” he asked as he pulled his shoes off and swung his feet into the water. "Fine." “You seem it,” he joked lightly, “With your massacre plans and all.” Libby frowned in the darkness, trying to keep her voice as light as possible. It wasn't a very successful attempt. "Don't get too close, you might be the first to go." “If I become too worried I’ll wish that you didn’t want to kill me.” "Well, I guess if it's too big of an ask, you'll just put me to sleep," she replied bitterly. She was still frustrated by her lack of control over her power. Everyone else seemed to have got a far better handle on theirs and she was still trying to fight the instant delivery of coke cans and pens and whatever the hell else. "Win for you." “You’ll be the narcoleptic murderer,” he joked, deciding to ignore the bitter edge in her voice. She was already in a bad mood, he wasn’t going to prod and make her lash out at him again. "Bit hard to murder people when you're--" She was about to say asleep, when she recalled George Cooper. And the fact that Callum had been trapped in one of his nightmares. Which sucked, because of course she'd remember something like that and of course she'd stop herself because of course she cared. "Whatever. I'll be the narcoleptic murderer. Success rate: 0." “Have to admit I prefer you with a success rate of zero than if you were good at it,” he said, pleased they were able to have a bit of a joke for the first time in what felt like a while. Even if she was still in a bad mood. "I'm not very good at killing things, anyway," she admitted with a shrug. "Not even spiders." “Good to know that you’re not going to sneak into my room and murder me in my sleep or anything to get round your narcolepsy problem.” "Well, thanks for the idea. I'll just do that instead, then." At last, Libby lifted her eyes to meet his own. "Why are you here, Callum?" “I was walking,” he answered, a little surprised by her question. Why shouldn’t he be here? “I like the lake, you know that. I showed you it when you first arrived.” "I mean, why are you here talking to me? The lake is big enough that you can avoid me." “Because,” he paused, trying to come up with a good answer to this. He still wasn’t good enough at caring about people to let them know he cared about them, unless he was dating them and could say so by saying ‘I love you’. “Because I like the company.” "No you don't," she objected, surveying him carefully, filing away the observation of his pause and the struggle he had to think of a reason. "We don't even get along anymore. So why are you here?" It didn’t really make much sense to him either. It would have been so much easier to leave her alone and not deal with her weird moods and dislike of his girlfriend and disapproval of everything he did but he’d still ended up next to her at the lake. “Remember when I pushed you in?” he asked instead, deciding to change the topic. "Yes." She turned her gaze back to the water, realising that it was unlikely she was going to get an answer out of him yet. "Of course I remember that. I remember a lot of things." “You should cheer up or I might be tempted to do it again.” Libby contemplated what it would be like to be pushed into the lake again and decided it would be a relief, to experience something other than all the stress that she'd been surrounded by lately. But it wouldn't cheer her up. So she didn't say anything, didn't move, just continued to stare stolidly at the lake. True to his word Callum gave her a shove towards the lake. “What’s really wrong, Hope?” Even with the light shove, Libby barely flinched, regained her balance without a word and shrugged in response to his question. Not being someone who enjoyed talking about himself or how he was feeling Callum was hardly going to push Libby for a response, instead choosing to kick his feet and splash water at her. "I don't really feel like playing, Callum," she warned and shot him a look. “You don’t want to talk either so I’m not sure what the other options are, Libby,” he replied, growing tired of her mood. "It's not like I asked you to be here," she pointed out. "I was fine being on my own, and then you came along and you don't even seem to know why and I don't get it and I'm sick of trying to work you out because it's exhausting and I just never asked you to be here. Okay? Aren't you supposed to be buddying up with Leona anyway? Since I'm the horrible bitch." “I don’t think you’re a horrible bitch. At least, not most of the time,” he added, giving her a quick grin so she’d (hopefully) know he was only joking. “You and Leona are both my friends, regardless of whether you’re getting along with each other, and after you got so worked up over me not being a good friend last time I was making an effort this time.” "It doesn't matter anymore. You don't have to do anything." Friends were way more complicated than girlfriends and Callum didn’t know how to deal with this situation anymore. He silently pulled his feet out of the water, giving them a moment to dry out before he began putting his shoes back on. “I’ll leave you alone then,” he said eventually, as he tied up his laces. “But I can make time for you if you want. Just tell me instead of getting mad at me.” Though her previous anger had dissipated into a numb melancholy, it flared up again as he pulled her communication skills into question. It wasn't the first time her inability to tell people what she wanted was highlighted to her, nor would it be the last -- but fuck if she wanted to be told by a man who's greatest talent was in leaving a situation. Or country. Or room. Or whatever. "Yeah, okay, I'll tell you I want you around and not to ignore me in favour of your latest girl who half the time doesn't give a crap about you." (Though, to be fair, this time Carmela did seem to like Callum. Maybe a little too much, but it was an improvement on Moa and Laurel. If you could call it an improvement.) "Because I do. Did. Whatever. I checked up on you when your teammate died, and cared about where you were when you decided to stay on in the safehouse and help out. But you can just go, because it's what you do best, Cal, isn't it? And I just don't care anymore. And I don't want to play or go down memory lane or whatever because I don't care. I have so much other shit on my plate right now, with my friends and all this stuff going on and my brother wants to join the fucking army and everyone hates Devon and the fact I don't hate her means I'm, what, a bad person? And it's just too much so right now I really don't give a shit about telling you what I want from you because I don't want anything from you anymore." “I offered to talk, Libby, you passed,” Callum replied, standing up slowly and brushing the sand off his pants. “But for what it’s worth I don’t think you’re a bad person.” Which probably wasn’t much since she claimed not to care anymore. And with that he left, because she was right, that was what he was best at. Leaving was still his go to response to being in a situation he didn’t like, even when trapped in the middle of the outback where there was nowhere to escape to. |