(no subject)
[ooc: Adapted from an AIM log with Mohinder-mun.]
Eden wants a drink. It's like a full-body itch, one she can only scratch by crawling out of her skin. "Arson, larceny, grand theft auto, wanted for attempted murder in Oklahoma. That's no way for a young lady to behave, now is it?"
She paces her apartment as she waits for the coffee to brew. She gave up booze for coffee, and now is trying to give up coffee for orange juice because she doesn't want an ulcer when she's thirty. She'll be thirty in four years. When did that happen? "This. I did this last week. It's you. I draw things I've never seen. Things that haven't happened yet."
She’d been watching TV until she determined that everything on television at 11:00 is shit. Now, Arrested Development is playing on her whirring DVD player - Tobias Funke is auditioning for a fire sale. Except he doesn't know what a fire sale is and plays the audition like someone in a fire. "The difference between a right word and an almost right word is like the difference between lightning and a lightning bug." Mark Twain. "You said that like you were there. How the hell'd you know that? Don't try lying to me, Eden. Don't fucking lie."
She called Mr. Bennet, asked if Sylar had been active. He said he would keep her informed. He wouldn't say that if something had happened, would he? It's right about then that she realizes she didn't ask Matt what month he was from. Maybe there's some Star Trek timewarp shit going on. "Whatever bad you've done in the past, it's over. You have a rare opportunity to start again, rewrite the past, to do better."
She wants to have a drink. She wants to move. She wants to wake up with some strange man beside her...or maybe one not so strange...."You need gloves."
Eden slips her key into Mohinder's door. She doesn't look different - her skin isn't flushed, eyes aren't red. But her gaze doesn't settle on anything, not even on him when she says, "Hey. Mohinder," in a distracted voice.
He looks up for two seconds with a, "Hello, Eden."
She moves to lean against the doorframe and stops, then takes a few steps into the room. Only a few steps, like she's sure she's going to leave again. "We should do something. Go out. Somewhere. Unless you're on a roll." She says that knowing he's not.
"At this hour?" He checks the clock, blinking at it first, then at her.
"You're right. The best parties don't get started 'til one. But we could - just go, get out of here." A restless roll of her shoulders, a glance at the window to the outside.
"Get out of here?" He frowns up at her from beneath glasses that look like they could use a good cleaning. "To where?"
"To--" To a party, to a club, to someplace Mohinder doesn't have the time or the inclination to go to, to a scene she left behind months ago. She's trying not to be that person (bad girl) even though she still is. "-- Yeah. Nevermind. Sorry, I'm just out of it. Been a long day."
"At the library?" He shifts some books and papers off of his desk, where various tea stains have made rings over various names and addresses. "That is where you work, yes?"
Eden hesitates a moment. "Antique bookstore." It's not. It never was. (She should cross the room, hold him, tell him the truth, tell him everything will be all right even though it isn't and never will be.) "I'm gonna go. Sorry I interrupted. I'll-- I'll see you." She shifts back, towards the door.
"No, no," he says, reaching out a hand, and then hesitates, moving his hand to shift his glasses up on his nose instead. "That isn't necessary. I mean, if you want to talk."
Eden shrugs. "There's not much to talk about." That isn't a lie. There's a pause before she adds, "But sometime when it's a decent hour, we should do something. See a movie. Just...something." God, 'something'? That's the worst word in the English language.
"I don't know whether I will have the time, amongst all this." He waves a hand at the work on the table, and then to the cab map next to the large one.
She grins back, looking embarrassed. Or trying to look embarrassed. She doesn't feel it, not one bit. Feels only frustration at herself. "Well, maybe you'll find time at-- say, Mohinder? If you go to that place...you know, that place, would you let me know?" She'll start believing in God if he answers her prayer for Matt and Mohinder never to meet.
"Alright," he says, getting up and moving toward the kitchen, somewhat unsteadily at first, moving amongst piles of books.
"Thanks." She watches him, and wants to help. "Have a productive night, Mohinder." She assumes a productive night automatically means a good night, at this point.
He waves an arm at her from the kitchen. "Don't go anywhere. I'm making us caffeine."
"Us? I don't wanna distract you when you're using your mad computer genius skills."
He snorts, pouring some water into the tea kettle. "If I were a mad computer genius, I would have discovered the solution to this code by now."
Eden watches him. There's something raw in her voice, despite how soft it is, when she says, "If you want me here....?"
"Why wouldn't I?" He turns to her, confused, glasses slipping down his nose, and offers her a rare, wry smile. "Perhaps it is like you said. I might need someone here so that I don't work myself to death."
It isn't moving or screwing or whatever Eden wanted to do when she first slipped the key in his door. It's still a lie. (She'll die a liar.) But it'll do. It'll have to. "All right. You have any sugar? I can't stand regular tea without it...."
Eden wants a drink. It's like a full-body itch, one she can only scratch by crawling out of her skin. "Arson, larceny, grand theft auto, wanted for attempted murder in Oklahoma. That's no way for a young lady to behave, now is it?"
She paces her apartment as she waits for the coffee to brew. She gave up booze for coffee, and now is trying to give up coffee for orange juice because she doesn't want an ulcer when she's thirty. She'll be thirty in four years. When did that happen? "This. I did this last week. It's you. I draw things I've never seen. Things that haven't happened yet."
She’d been watching TV until she determined that everything on television at 11:00 is shit. Now, Arrested Development is playing on her whirring DVD player - Tobias Funke is auditioning for a fire sale. Except he doesn't know what a fire sale is and plays the audition like someone in a fire. "The difference between a right word and an almost right word is like the difference between lightning and a lightning bug." Mark Twain. "You said that like you were there. How the hell'd you know that? Don't try lying to me, Eden. Don't fucking lie."
She called Mr. Bennet, asked if Sylar had been active. He said he would keep her informed. He wouldn't say that if something had happened, would he? It's right about then that she realizes she didn't ask Matt what month he was from. Maybe there's some Star Trek timewarp shit going on. "Whatever bad you've done in the past, it's over. You have a rare opportunity to start again, rewrite the past, to do better."
She wants to have a drink. She wants to move. She wants to wake up with some strange man beside her...or maybe one not so strange...."You need gloves."
Eden slips her key into Mohinder's door. She doesn't look different - her skin isn't flushed, eyes aren't red. But her gaze doesn't settle on anything, not even on him when she says, "Hey. Mohinder," in a distracted voice.
He looks up for two seconds with a, "Hello, Eden."
She moves to lean against the doorframe and stops, then takes a few steps into the room. Only a few steps, like she's sure she's going to leave again. "We should do something. Go out. Somewhere. Unless you're on a roll." She says that knowing he's not.
"At this hour?" He checks the clock, blinking at it first, then at her.
"You're right. The best parties don't get started 'til one. But we could - just go, get out of here." A restless roll of her shoulders, a glance at the window to the outside.
"Get out of here?" He frowns up at her from beneath glasses that look like they could use a good cleaning. "To where?"
"To--" To a party, to a club, to someplace Mohinder doesn't have the time or the inclination to go to, to a scene she left behind months ago. She's trying not to be that person (bad girl) even though she still is. "-- Yeah. Nevermind. Sorry, I'm just out of it. Been a long day."
"At the library?" He shifts some books and papers off of his desk, where various tea stains have made rings over various names and addresses. "That is where you work, yes?"
Eden hesitates a moment. "Antique bookstore." It's not. It never was. (She should cross the room, hold him, tell him the truth, tell him everything will be all right even though it isn't and never will be.) "I'm gonna go. Sorry I interrupted. I'll-- I'll see you." She shifts back, towards the door.
"No, no," he says, reaching out a hand, and then hesitates, moving his hand to shift his glasses up on his nose instead. "That isn't necessary. I mean, if you want to talk."
Eden shrugs. "There's not much to talk about." That isn't a lie. There's a pause before she adds, "But sometime when it's a decent hour, we should do something. See a movie. Just...something." God, 'something'? That's the worst word in the English language.
"I don't know whether I will have the time, amongst all this." He waves a hand at the work on the table, and then to the cab map next to the large one.
She grins back, looking embarrassed. Or trying to look embarrassed. She doesn't feel it, not one bit. Feels only frustration at herself. "Well, maybe you'll find time at-- say, Mohinder? If you go to that place...you know, that place, would you let me know?" She'll start believing in God if he answers her prayer for Matt and Mohinder never to meet.
"Alright," he says, getting up and moving toward the kitchen, somewhat unsteadily at first, moving amongst piles of books.
"Thanks." She watches him, and wants to help. "Have a productive night, Mohinder." She assumes a productive night automatically means a good night, at this point.
He waves an arm at her from the kitchen. "Don't go anywhere. I'm making us caffeine."
"Us? I don't wanna distract you when you're using your mad computer genius skills."
He snorts, pouring some water into the tea kettle. "If I were a mad computer genius, I would have discovered the solution to this code by now."
Eden watches him. There's something raw in her voice, despite how soft it is, when she says, "If you want me here....?"
"Why wouldn't I?" He turns to her, confused, glasses slipping down his nose, and offers her a rare, wry smile. "Perhaps it is like you said. I might need someone here so that I don't work myself to death."
It isn't moving or screwing or whatever Eden wanted to do when she first slipped the key in his door. It's still a lie. (She'll die a liar.) But it'll do. It'll have to. "All right. You have any sugar? I can't stand regular tea without it...."