joy beats oppression but oppression will make you pay

[metamorphotic]

WHO: Nick, Hank, Squall
WHAT: Just some friendly talks!
WHERE: Rick's
WHEN: A couple weeks after the roboclone rising.
WARNINGS: Probably just Nick and Hank's respective pottymouths.

Nick has been notably absent from behind the bar at Rick's for the last two weeks, but she's back on duty tonight. Whatever's kept her from her normal routine seems to have taken a toll on her; she's slightly paler than normal, with darker circles shading beneath her usual vibrant blue yes. If anyone's asked about her up until now, they would've been told she was out sick for a while, and that's ... sort of true.

But enough about Nick - what about you? Nick greets you as you approach the bar with a smile - thin and weak, but a smile nonetheless.

"Hey - good to see you again. What can I get you?"

Comments

[metamorphotic]

“I only say stuff like that if I mean it.” And she does appreciate Hank. The truth is, this city scares Nick, more than she would ever admit, and the fact that the resistance efforts she got involved with are headed by a pair of people who seem dangerously out of control scares her even more. Knowing that there are people like Hank in the city, people inclined toward more stable and sane methods of working toward the same end, makes her feel ... not necessarily safe, but certainly safer.

In answer to Hank’s question about the robots, Nick shakes her head. “I really don’t know. I’ve seen plenty of ‘em in various stages of drunk at the bar, but I don’t know if they’re really buzzed or just acting like it ‘cause they’re programmed to. Some of the brainy types think it’s for real, but it’s not like anyone’s cut one open or tested any of ‘em to know for sure. They’re best-guessing. But I guess ... look, I almost failed biology, so most of this shit doesn’t make any sense to me. But if these copies are supposed to replace us, they’d want to be as realistic as possible, right? If they can clone our DNA and our blood and shit, I don’t see why they couldn’t clone everything else, too. Fit all the squishy parts and the metal together like one of those patchwork blankets, y’know?”

Does that make them people? That’s a higher-level philosophical question about the nature of existence than Nick is prepared to tackle at the moment. But in mirror opposite of Hank’s belief that the copies are people until he sees evidence otherwise, Nick has only seen evidence to the contrary - that they are machines running on programming. And until she sees otherwise - an example like Connor - her view is unlikely to change.

And when Hank begins to speak of Connor, her expression softens. Despite the upsetting content of his words, there’s a current of context running underneath that is much warmer.

“If he loves you, it makes sense that he’d be upset about seeing you - even a fake you - die.” She smiles softly. “You said he’d only been around for a few months, right? So he’s still pretty new to all this having feelings bullshit. I dunno if it was like this for you, but when I was a kid? Everything made me feel like I was on fire, like I had too much in here - “ she taps two fingers against her chest, over her heart - “and it was only a matter of time before it all exploded and burned me down into a pile of ashes.” She glances down at her jeans and brushes a speck of dust off her leg. “Still feels like that sometimes, but it’s not all the time anymore. Guess I’m finally startin’ to chill out some as I get older.”

Nick looks up at Hank again and studies him intently for a moment, and she decides it’ll probably be OK to speak her speculation aloud: “You love him too, yeah?”

[sociallychallenged]

"Jesus, just when you were a kid? I had my honest to god worst emotional breakdown at fuckin' 50." It's a joke that sears across the tongue, though. He'd been a relatively well put together man up until the point he lost Cole. Everything in his life was stable enough that he felt like he could shoulder the weight of the world; and then he was alone with all that weight and it felt impossibly heavy.

As for the doubles, he's at least not going to take any foolish risks. Everyone's been friendly and personable with these things. The Heart has no history of working with any or having sympathizers (which could mean in a best case scenario that it's not been worth the risk to anyone, worst case scenario if one of them tried they were immediately disposed of or still couldn't escape their programming). But he has a lot of faith in the hackers he knows.

He'll try to find this Travis guy. He'll try to get what he can.

But he just nods, a bit morosely.

"Yeah, I do. Sucks to be him, huh? About the fuckin' worst first-relationship-run someone can ask for. I got more baggage than a fuckin' rich bitch on an international flight. I'm really lucky that he sees something there that I just don't see." But he's trying to live up to it, even if he shot his double in the head close enough to spatter blood in the poor guy's face.

[metamorphotic]

Nick laughs good-naturedly at the joke - it’s obvious to her that it’s a joke, anyway. “Let’s see ... born in ‘83, so for 18 years after that, ‘til 2001?” She jokes back, but she understands what he’s really asking, and follows with a more serious answer: “My dad died when I was eight. He was really the only person who gave a shit about me, so I guess I quit bein’ a kid around then. Had to learn to fend for myself pretty fast, y’know?”

Which likely didn’t do her volatile emotions any favors, with no positive guiding force to temper them. But it’s in the past and there’s nothing she can do to change it, and she’s come to more or less accept that fact over the past few years. She may not have moved on entirely, but she’s better than she used to be.

“Hank ... we’ve all got baggage. Cut yourself a little slack, huh?” She quietly chuckles at herself. “Man, I almost can’t believe I’m sayin’ this. A few years ago I would’ve said love is all pointless bullshit. You know that Smiths song, ’Unloveable’?” She quietly sings a couple of bars: “I know I’m unloveable, you don’t have to tell me ... I used to say that was my theme song, ‘cause that’s what I really thought of myself. I never had any shortage of short-term boyfriends and friends with benefits, but I never kidded myself into thinking they loved me. They just liked getting laid.”

Not until she got involved with Kennedy did Nick begin to shake herself of that especially negative aspect of her self-image. She shakes her head at her past self. “Point is, I was an idiot. I’m not unloveable, and Connor loving you isn’t bad luck for him. Out of everyone in your world and this one, he chose you - that means you’re important to him. That ain’t something to just shrug off.”

She inhales a deep breath and slowly lets it out. Talking about this kind of stuff - feelings - it’s hard for her. She spent so many years repressing almost everything she felt that wasn’t anger; she doesn’t have the practice with other feelings that most people have at this point in their lives.

“I know you didn’t ask for my advice, but I’m gonna give it to you anyway, and you can take it or leave it, up to you.” She shrugs, but secretly hopes he’ll take it. “Talk to him. Whatever bad shit came up that you haven’t talked about yet - don’t put it off. Not talking about shit is where me and my ex went wrong. Hell, not talking is where me and my ex-best friend went wrong, too. Don’t be like me, Hank.”

[sociallychallenged]

He looks tired for every year then, really. It's strange to think there are people around older than him that somehow manage to wear all this emotional weight infinitely better, but it shows in ever crease and line of his grizzled expression.

"Yeah, I know. I gotta be more decent with myself, at least. You're not wrong. Especially now." He actually was once a good leader. He motivated a task force. He needs that person again, or else it'll be a lot of dead kids. And they might be fucking magic or fucking superheroes but that bullshit doesn't matter. They're kids.

"Luckily he's real fuckin' cute in a goofy-ass dipshit way, so it's really easy to forget about how fucked up I am." He snorts a soft laugh to himself at that. Behind the scathing words there's more than fondness, there's admiration for someone that was able to give him faith in humanity again. A well put together mind and a heart whose sense of justice felt natural. Not just a token of the old activist age from a couple of decades before.

Heart. Thirium pump. Whatever that shit is called.

"But yeah. I know. I need to work on it. Not just for the relationship thing." Because right now a fuck of a lot of lives depend on him being able to keep his shit together.

[metamorphotic]

"I believe in you, Hank. And you're a hell of a lot smarter than me, so I'm bettin' you can figure it all out without needing to get your brain broken into a billion bitty pieces."

She'll explain what that means someday, if Hank wants to know. But she's said a lot already today and there are much bigger stakes than her own history. Nick gently claps her hands against her legs and climbs to her feet, then leans over to offer Hank a hand up if he wants the help.

"I wanna hear all about Connor sometime, but right now I better get back to work. I won't be any good to anyone here if I get myself fired." She sobers for a moment, then adds: "I'm sorry I wasn't straight with you from the start, Hank. I'm not gonna keep secrets like that anymore. If there's something you wanna know, just ask, and if I know, I'll tell you. OK?"