Logs:Vicarious

Vicarious
Dramatis Personae Hive, Jamie	2019-09-16 << Whatever, I've seen weirder shit on a Monday. >> (Takes place concurrently with Steve & Flicker.)
Location <PRV> VL 403 {Geekhaus} - East Village
There's kind of a college-dorm feel to this place, chronically untidy and without much thought given to Decor. Entering the apartment finds visitors greeted by the chaos of the living room, a mismatched assortment of couches and chairs (and milk crates) surrounding the wide table in the center. The wall holds a range of posters; some political, some sporty, some from video games, and a string of white lights strung over the kitchen doorway might be a holdover from Christmas. A widescreen television stands against the wall opposite the couch, shelving beside it holding a host of video games from different consoles. More shelving beside the windows on the far wall carries stacks of board games, as well as sourcebooks from various RPGs. The kitchen adjacent is just as cluttered, its table unfit for eating due to its perpetual covering of books, papers, cereal boxes, projects; the fridge is usually sparsely populated. Ketchup. Beer. Not a lot of food. There are two bedrooms here and one bathroom situated between them, split between the three people who live here. It's growing late Monday evening, but Hive has not yet torn himself away from his work. In concession to the hour he has, at least, moved himself away from being tethered to his desk. Instead he sits on the couch in faded jeans, a plain white undershirt, only idly watching Jinn as it plays quietly on the television. Most of his attention is consumed with the holographic structure in front of him; he's using a light-tipped stylus and his fingers by turns to manipulate the rendering, adding small notations here or totally scrapping and reconfiguring its dimensions there. Until, after a time, he stops what he's doing. He still isn't really looking at the television. Isn't really looking much of anywhere but down at his hands. His jaw creaks slightly, his brows furrowing. Gradually he returns -- somewhat -- to his work, but not without pauses, frequent and growing longer. It's quiet when the first mind, one floor up in their building, is suddenly scooped up into his network. As has been his habit when Flicker is absent, Jamie has been sequestered in Dusk's room for most of the evening. Keeping to a resolution he'd silently made earlier in the day not to obsess over Flicker's visit with the Tessiers, he scribbles away steadily in a composition notebook. He does not immediately notice Hive expanding, but on a regular sweep of his power he can tell something has changed. Sitting up from where he'd been curled on the bed, he stretches. Despite his curiosity and vague unease, he is careful not to directly interface with Hive's power as he feels out the change, the weight of his attention only palpable through his thoughts. In the intervening space, Hive has changed again -- and again. Drawing back from that first stolen mind only to spill out into two, three, four more. Slowly pruning them one at a time, only to tumble through most of the residents currently on this floor of their apartment. He hasn't actually moved from where he sits in the living room, stylus gripped tight in his hand and his eyes staring unfocused through his work as the heavy pressure of his mind coils itself around Jamie's. Jamie's attention remains fixed on Hive's jittery expansion and contraction, his curiosity growing and tinged more and more by a sort of vague concern. He tries to continue writing, slower for the distraction -- his main character is still completely oblivious to the dangers around her as she journeys through a slightly surreal version of central Arizona. But at the press of Hive's power he sits ramrod straight, his own power clamping down and holding back the telepathic intrusion. << What the fuck is that? >> He sets the notebook aside and pads out into the living room in black pajama pants and a dark purple Dragon*Con t-shirt, both hanging loose on him. He peers at his host, brows knitted tight. "Um...Hive?" Even in his irritation, he speaks quietly, his tone soft and diffident. "Is something wrong?" << Obviously, but why are you squeezing my brain? >> Hive's breaths have quickened, his posture tense. His fingers twitch against his knee, his other hand holding the stylus very still. His eyes snap up at the clamp on his mind, flicking briefly about the room as if he might find the reason here. When Jamie actually emerges, though, for a moment he just looks blank and uncomprehending at their houseguest. A second later, his cheeks flush deeply, his mouth opening briefly and closing again in silence. Something in him twists, bucking against the mental restraint but then just as quickly quieting. He shakes his head, slow and jerky. Jamie's eyebrows hike up, his skepticism almost palpable. "Oookay." But studying the blush on Hive's cheeks, his stiff body language, Jamie's annoyance softens. << Maybe he's sick, or upset, or something. >> "Look, I'm guessing you weren't doing that intentionally. Powers misfire sometimes, whatever. I'll leave you alone if you want, but..." He chews on his lower lip, his thoughts straying to Flicker with a rush of distress. << Not like he's gonna tell me if something's up. They've got their team. >> "...if I let you go, are you gonna try and glom me again?" Hive closes his eyes, sucks his cheeks in to bite down on the inside of one. When he opens his eyes there's a sort of feverish intensity to them, the red in his cheeks deeper. Though he is visibly trying to control his breathing, it's only half working, slow and a little strained. "I --" His voice comes out soft and rough; he pauses, swallows, tries again more steadily. "Probably, yes." Jamie's frown returns, redoubled. "Are you sick? Can I get you some water or something?" He's already heading for the kitchen without waiting for a reply, taking a glass down from the cabinet before he stops to look back at Hive. << Oh, maybe he's overhearing something upsetting? >> "Sorry, I should have asked but like...do you want me to just shut all that down?" He's quick to add, "Temporarily, I mean. I can't keep that up indefinitely even if I wanted to." "Pleaseyes." This is immediate, vehement, a raw edge to Hive's words. His hand drops, stylus falling from his fingers as he braces his hand against the arm of the couch. << -- no no no we need this -- >> hammers into Jamie's head, nearly overlapping with the spoken words. His breath catches; he shakes his head harder. "Oh -- oh no. No, I can't, you can't. Shut us... shut it down." Jamie flinches at the force of Hive's mental voice. << Jesus, dude needs an indoor brain-voice. >> His reflexive embarrassment at remembering that Hive can hear him is mild, almost perfunctory by now. "Alright, alright. I won't, it was just a thought." << Hah! >> He fills the glass and brings it to the couch, sitting down beside Hive -- not too close, but not way at the other end -- and holding it out for him. "I mean. Does it help if I just...keep it like this?" Hive's fingers twitch against the couch, his breathing falling back into a steadier rhythm. He lifts his other hand, tentatively reaching for the water but jerking his hand back before it is close. "Oh -- you --" He scrunches his eyes shut, draws both his legs up toward his chest. << Thank God. >> carries a flood of relief despite the pounding quality of Hive's voice. "Right. No. I'm sorry. That helps. That -- it doesn't -- will that be exhausting?" Jamie blinks at Hive. Tilts his head slightly to one side. << Whatever, I've seen weirder shit on a Monday. >> He sets the glass down on the table in front of Hive, instead, his concern intensifying just a touch. "It's fine." The reassurance is sincere, though still guarded. << What the fuck is going on up in there? >> "I mean, it'll get exhausting eventually." His mind rifles through disjointed memories of various labs, luckily too fast for much in the way of details. << Two, three hours? >> "It'll be easier if I stay real close and you don't try to fight me too much." "Sorry." This comes out in a whisper, Hive's eyes locking on the table. He starts to stand -- nearly as quickly drops back down with a fierce blush, wrapping one arm around his shins. Hugging his legs tight against his body."Close?" His eyes are wider, his fingers clenching against his jeans. He looks aside, a fleeting glance shot toward his bedroom before he looks to Jamie. "... how close? Can I -- I need --" The small whimper in his throat briefly chokes out the rest of his words. "Need to go." Jamie starts away from Hive at the sudden movement. His inward flinch is all tensed muscles, blandly preparing to receive violence. Now he blushes, too. << Why the fuck would he put up with me for this long just to start waling on me now? >> Seeing Hive's profound distress, however, has a far greater impact than a mere startle reflex. "Is it Flicker?" he blurts. "Is he in trouble, or hurt?" His terror is acute, its fluttering faintly sensible even in the grip of his power on Hive's. << That must be why I can't just shut him down. >> "No, he's -- not --" Hive shivers, his mind bucking against Jamie's grip, twisting back against that faint flutter of fear. << won't hurt you >> is a bit of a futile reassurance given the sharp stab of mental pain it comes with. The fear etched in his own face is clear enough, as he looks to Jamie, eyes gleaming with unspilled tears. "Please. Can you --" He bites down hard, bites these words off with another twitchy-sharp shake of his head. "Sorry. Sorry, I --" The erratic thrashing of his mind stops all at once, briefly quivering and then going slack in Jamie's hold. His head falls heavily back against the couch here, a stronger shudder passing through him. His hand clamps against the couch as his other flies to his mouth, palm pressing hard to his lips but not quite stifling the moan that is torn up out of him. Jamie winces again, but dispite the pain that Hive's voice carries he actually seems mollified. He reasserts the grasp of his power, leaning on it harder when Hive struggles. It's a sickeningly familiar sensation that brings flashes of experiments past, of forcing other people -- his people! -- to bend to the researchers' desires. "P-please don't fight me, I..." He shakes his head jerkily, tries to breathe slow and steady, keep the panic at bay. << Right. Okay. He doesn't want me to see him like this...whatever this is. >> "Sorry, just -- you can go." Anxious words keep tumbling out of him. "As long as you don't actually leave, like your room is fine. I can hold it down, the apartment's not that big and --" His eyes go wide. << He said Flicker's not hurt, but maybe it's someone else he's hived. Is this hurt? It sure looks like hurt, but... >> "Sorry," comes out this time as more of a gasp. Reflexively Hive's mind tries to pull back at Jamie's distress -- almost just as quickly goes still and quiet again, his shoulders tightening as he shrinks smaller into the corner of the couch. "I don't want -- to --" His words are rougher, strained through rapidly quickening breaths. This time he bites down on his hand, still fairly ineffectual in muffling the soft mewling cries that bubble up, hitched and broken. He melts down against the sofa, legs uncurling as he does so; from here the pressing tightness at the front of his jeans is more visible, as is the small needy upward thrusts of his hips, pushing hungrily into the empty air. His breathing is sharp, ragged; the abrupt shudder that goes through him accompanied by a harder jerk of hips and a briefly stronger press up at the bonds of Jamie's ability, his mind trying to expand itself again and jerking back when it finds itself stifled. His face goes deeply red; he turns slightly to curl against the side of the couch, burying his face in the crook of his elbow. His shoulders are hunched in, his words muffled. "-- I'm sorry, I didn't --" Jamie actually starts to reach for Hive, his alarm growing sharply as the other man becomes less coherent. << Okay, I have to get somebody, he looks like he's dying. >> But before he can sort out the best way to get help without straying too far, Hive's body unfurls and -- it doesn't take long for Jamie to recognize what is actually happening now. Even then he has a moment of uncertainty, disbelief, and confusion. "Oh shit --" he blurts, turning away sharply and clapping his hand to his own mouth, his face bright red. << Flicker. >> His power reflexively slams down hard against Hive's latest attempt to expand. The first rush of his surprise hasn't fully faded before it's crowded by a jumble of embarrassment , anger, disappointment, relief, and worry. << He's needed it so much and...he deserves better than me, anyway. >> His "I'm sorry" comes almost simultaneous with Hive's. "I'll. I'll um. Go." << Sorry. >> In his thoughts it's clear this time he means it in sympathy to Hive and not in apology for himself. It's only as he rises that he remembers where Flicker was that night, and the surge of furious jealousy in the wake of this realization physically takes his breath away. "If you need anything just --" he says, his tone clipped and sharp, "-- call me."