It’s a shock to the system, Wanda sinking into all the nooks and crannies and crevices of his mind and then having to abruptly yank herself back out in a rush, messy, the door slamming shut behind her, retreating too quickly; is there such a thing as telepathic decompression sickness? The bends. Her right temple thumps, and his left temple throbs. Stephen pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Sorry,” he says, apologetic in a way he isn’t often with people; it was the exact thing he hadn’t wanted to dredge up out of his subconscious around her, but that’s the whole trouble, isn’t it? Don’t think of pink elephants.
“You’ll probably— you’ll see his name all over the various Riftwatch paperwork and reports. He used to be here, too. He’s gone now.”
He keeps his voice as steady as he can, stripped of emotion and whatever hard-to-pin feeling he might have about that himself. Information. This is simply passing on relevant information.
Speaking of Tony Stark is the equivalent of shoving her finger into a gaping wound and keeping it open. It's never going to heal. Even with him dead, she will never be able to move on from what he is inadvertently responsible for. Not even here, in another universe. Is this what Agatha would consider karma? Is this what she deserves after Westview and Earth-838?
Perhaps.
She inhales deeply through her nose, still frowning. Her anger burns; the fear and uncertainty she has buried down since arriving in Thedas threatens to rise to the surface. Wanda wishes to lash out.
She takes a moment. One. Two. Three. Doesn't quite calm, but it's a good enough effort.
"Are you sad about that?" It's a snap, even though she doesn't intend it to be. Does Strange feel sad at the loss of Stark? (Would he feel saddened by the loss of her if she were to disappear from this place? Such a ridiculous thought. He should be relieved, just as she is she won't stumble into Stark's ghost.)
Stephen exhales again, slow. Still feeling a little discombobulated by her presence, the ghosting memory of her fingers in his skull.
It’s too big a can of worms to open when she’s a walking talking can of worms herself. Tony had been a strained colleague, eventually maybe a friend after a year in Thedas. Someone he’d once led to their death. He thought he’d done the same with her. He can’t get into it. So—
“I don’t know that it matters,” Stephen says instead, his voice mild, her snap ricocheting off that carefully-honed neutrality. It’s not the place or time to discuss his feelings with Wanda Maximoff, when he abhors having them at all, and would prefer to neatly sidestep them. “But I’m here. You’re here. That’s what we’re working with. Which reminds me—”
And then, perhaps it’s a distraction and another deflection from the wounds between them, or maybe he just remembered what he was supposed to be doing, but he picks up the piece of paper he brought with him and frisbees it in Wanda’s direction with the flick of a wrist. It drifts over, to be snatched up at ease: a blank questionnaire.
He denies her the opportunity to be angry about… what? A man who she's seemingly missed bumping into in Thedas. Isn't it a blessing that Stark is gone? The last person she wishes to see is him. (The last being she wishes to see is Ultron.)
Gently taking the paper from the air, Wanda holds it with both hands and frowns at it. A… questionnaire.
A questionnaire.
The last time she filled one of these out— Is almost every little thing between them going to throw her back into the past? She doesn't wish to think of HYDRA. She doesn't want to remember how she had been poked and prodded on the Raft.
She exhales softly to release the tension building within her. Wanda doesn't lift her gaze. "What will you do with this information?" There's no bite to her soft bark. Her uncertainty is warranted; she doesn't wish to be seen as another experiment.
“I’m Head Healer here,” Stephen repeats, matter-of-fact. He’s finding his stride again, mustering his composure back into place as he rediscovers familiar footing; this sort of intake, he has done before. He has a frame of reference for this, unlike the daunting uncharted territory of Wanda herself. (Here be dragons.)
“The records were a bit of a shambles when I first took over. Mostly it’s to avoid any truly stupid accidents: what if the Gallows kitchens prepared a dinner with nuts, and one of our number died to an allergy? They don’t have EpiPens here. If someone has chronic migraines that they might need regular painkillers for, that’s good to know for keeping track of stockpiling and inventory. And so on, and so on. Everyday purposes.”
It’s boring and banal and not nefarious, in short.
“It’s useful to simply have it for reference. So, case in point: are you allergic to tree nuts, Wanda Maximoff?”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
“Sorry,” he says, apologetic in a way he isn’t often with people; it was the exact thing he hadn’t wanted to dredge up out of his subconscious around her, but that’s the whole trouble, isn’t it? Don’t think of pink elephants.
“You’ll probably— you’ll see his name all over the various Riftwatch paperwork and reports. He used to be here, too. He’s gone now.”
He keeps his voice as steady as he can, stripped of emotion and whatever hard-to-pin feeling he might have about that himself. Information. This is simply passing on relevant information.
no subject
Perhaps.
She inhales deeply through her nose, still frowning. Her anger burns; the fear and uncertainty she has buried down since arriving in Thedas threatens to rise to the surface. Wanda wishes to lash out.
She takes a moment. One. Two. Three. Doesn't quite calm, but it's a good enough effort.
"Are you sad about that?" It's a snap, even though she doesn't intend it to be. Does Strange feel sad at the loss of Stark? (Would he feel saddened by the loss of her if she were to disappear from this place? Such a ridiculous thought. He should be relieved, just as she is she won't stumble into Stark's ghost.)
no subject
It’s too big a can of worms to open when she’s a walking talking can of worms herself. Tony had been a strained colleague, eventually maybe a friend after a year in Thedas. Someone he’d once led to their death. He thought he’d done the same with her. He can’t get into it. So—
“I don’t know that it matters,” Stephen says instead, his voice mild, her snap ricocheting off that carefully-honed neutrality. It’s not the place or time to discuss his feelings with Wanda Maximoff, when he abhors having them at all, and would prefer to neatly sidestep them. “But I’m here. You’re here. That’s what we’re working with. Which reminds me—”
And then, perhaps it’s a distraction and another deflection from the wounds between them, or maybe he just remembered what he was supposed to be doing, but he picks up the piece of paper he brought with him and frisbees it in Wanda’s direction with the flick of a wrist. It drifts over, to be snatched up at ease: a blank questionnaire.
no subject
Gently taking the paper from the air, Wanda holds it with both hands and frowns at it. A… questionnaire.
A questionnaire.
The last time she filled one of these out— Is almost every little thing between them going to throw her back into the past? She doesn't wish to think of HYDRA. She doesn't want to remember how she had been poked and prodded on the Raft.
She exhales softly to release the tension building within her. Wanda doesn't lift her gaze. "What will you do with this information?" There's no bite to her soft bark. Her uncertainty is warranted; she doesn't wish to be seen as another experiment.
no subject
“The records were a bit of a shambles when I first took over. Mostly it’s to avoid any truly stupid accidents: what if the Gallows kitchens prepared a dinner with nuts, and one of our number died to an allergy? They don’t have EpiPens here. If someone has chronic migraines that they might need regular painkillers for, that’s good to know for keeping track of stockpiling and inventory. And so on, and so on. Everyday purposes.”
It’s boring and banal and not nefarious, in short.
“It’s useful to simply have it for reference. So, case in point: are you allergic to tree nuts, Wanda Maximoff?”