[Carmichael] He'd texted, and it read like this:
Day off, have something for you, come over when you want but call while you're parking (or coming into the building) so I can make sure I have pants on.
And so it went - he made sure to have comfort food, warm (he can manage heating things up, if not actually cooking them), stick-to-your-ribs and . . . well, comforting on hand along with lots of chocolate (and beer) and similar things, just in case. He has an idea she's not going to be very pleased, at least not initially. But, he's hoping the benefits will outweigh the starting ire.
[Littleton] Her reply went something like this:
Was studying for midterms. Brain full, omw over. ETA 25min.
So she arrived, oblivious to his intented course of action. It had been warm, if rainy, so Emily wore a thinner top in a brighter color (Spring!) with her jeans. It was a bit more feminine than how he usually saw her, except for that one evening with the lightweight dress. This was more in that vein, and covered by a lightweight jacket to keep out the wet.
She called from the street, where she'd parked her car. Let it ring through a couple times as she headed toward his building. When Chuck picked up, she greeted him with a lightly lilting, "It's Little. Did you find your pants?"
Ah, yes, her lovely sense of humor. It had to be one of Chuck's favorite thing about Emily.
[Carmichael] "I guess I'd better put them on now," he says with an exaggerated attempt at making noise as if he were hurrying to do just that. "Yeah, you're all set. C'mon up. I hope you're hungry."
So he greets her at the door, all jeans, a t-shirt (that says 'fix your own $+&% computer') and sock feet with that smile of his, genuine, warm and friendly. He is, as always, affable and amiable, quick with a joke or quip, and on the geeky side. It's something he can't avoid, that last; maybe he was born that way [maybe it's maybelline], or maybe it was a defense mechanism that stuck. One never nows with this sort of thing.
"Hey, Little. Doin' well, I hope."
[Littleton] "Can't complain," she answers, slipping her shoes off by the door when she enters his apartment. And sniffs, suspiciously, at the smells coming from his kitchen.
"Did you make me hot dogs?" she teased, lightly, with a small smirk teasing the corner of her mouth. Chuck got a hug, unsolicited, before she shrugged out of her jacket, too. Chuck was comfortable, like that, and Emily was comfortably affectionate with him. It was a nice thing, something she didn't (couldn't) share with very many people.
[Carmichael] "There's a place a couple blocks away where they cook like my mom," he says with a grin, amused. "Don't think I didn't catch the reaction to hot dogs when I suggested it, lady; I'm male, but not oblivious." He, too, is teasing, obviously, and he returns the hug, easy, and presses just a little kiss (fond) to the top of her head.
"I've got all the Fatal Frame games for later, if you want to stick around after food. But mostly, I called you 'cause . . ." This is all after the door's closed behind her and they're getting comfortable with beverages of some sort in hand, of course; it doesn't do to have this kind of talk before that. And now, a thumbdrive that appears to be made of recycled memory is handed over. "This is yours. You."
[Littleton] "Why don't you just have proper sausages instead of hot dogs?" she asked, wrapping her disdain for the American favorite around the word in a playfully exaggerated way.
Emily was not a memory stick. She was a living, breathing, changeable being. So she canted her head a bit to one side as he held out the thumbdrive (This is yours [this is you]).
"I... " Her eyes caught his as she set aside her beverage, turned the thumbdrive over in her hand a few times. "Don't follow." She ran her thumb over the USB connector, looked around for somewhere to plug it in so she could explore this collection of (her)self.
[Carmichael] He points at the laptop, currently on the counter/bar that separates the kitchen from the rest of the main room, already up and [protected beyond belief] ready for her to use; he'd figured she'd want to. "I found some stuff," he says, reluctant and almost (but not quite) guilty. "So I stuck it on there so you could have it, and buried it so no one else would be able to find it. The IP and password are in a notepad document on there - I'm the only one who knows them, so feel free to change the latter if you want, but I won't be logging in."
[Littleton] "You found some stuff," she repeated, somewhat flatly. Emily was cautiously suspicious, but Chuck really hadn't given her cause for worry before. She rose from wherever they'd been sitting and wandered over to the laptop, giving him one last long curious look before plugging it in and exploring the thumbdrive's contents.
Some of the files were innocuous: birth records, school data, travel itineraries, the incidental electronic details of a life lived in the digital age.
"Did you... hack... my life, Chuck of Best Buy?" she asked, her voice still light enough (though warningly controlled). Clearly she hadn't found the files, yet, that warranted comfort food and a special secure thumbdrive.
But they weren't far away. And when she found them, all levity drained from her. One arm crossed her middle, held tight as if she was holding herself upright, holding herself together. The other hand raised to cover her mouth, to obscure that expression from view. Emily's eyes were gravely serious, and she got deathly quiet. Shaken.
Of course, she read through everything. Even the descriptions that left her ashen (aching) and withdrawn. It was minutes before she could speak, before she could look over at him -- hand falling away from her face, joining the other arm in wrapping around her middle tightly -- with hurt and concern.
"... Why would you go looking for this?" she asked.
[Carmichael] "Well, I didn't go looking for that," he says - not defensive, exactly, but defending. "I was curious after the safety deposit box thing, so I wanted to . . . I don't know, see what was out there, I guess. I didn't really read most of it - some headlines, but that's about it. I saw that it was intensely personal, and figured if you wanted me to know, you'd tell me . . . and also that it was something I wouldn't want anyone to know if it were me. So . . . I took what I could find and hid it."
He's not grinning now, but there's still that goofiness about him that never seems to leave - the bumbling geek, easily underestimated.
[Littleton] (( First of many... WP ))
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 3, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Littleton] Emily leaned back against the tall counter, arms still crossing her body. Still looking shaken and unwell. Her expression was pained, but also hard. Like she was trying to hold onto something, or hold back in some way. Maybe she was angry, or hurt, or ill-prepared to have this surface, now, here.
"You're my friend, Chuck," she said, and the hurt came forward in my tone. "Friends don't hack each other's histories. You could have asked," she added, knowing full well that she rarely gave complete or satisfying answers.
Emily shook her head a little, dropped her chin to her chest and exhaled shakily. "I just went through all of this with Jarod," she said, softly. Ruefully. Looking up at him she continued, "I'm sure you have questions. Ask them, if you want. While I still feel like talking..."
Which sounded ominous, in its own way, even if Emily's body language was making her seem smaller, separate.
[Carmichael] "Honey," he says, and moves to hug her . . . or with that intent, though it doesn't seem right for the moment, so it ends with a simple hand on her shoulder, "that's past. I've asked the question that really matters to me - if you're alright. And you say yes, so I'll take it at that. Most of this stuff, I found on accident - most of it not terribly well secured, even. And I could do it. So, I took away that ability."
He sighs, and the hand falls away though he stays standing where he is, near - in case she wants to lash out, or hug, or anything really. "I don't want you to talk about it because you feel like you don't have a choice. Do you think there isn't shit that's happened to me that I don't want anyone to know? That's why I picked that stuff up and hid it away."
[Littleton] (( ... and again ... WP ))
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Littleton] "Christ..."
Emily reached up and scrubbed at her face with one hand.
"You really think I'm okay?" she asked, looking up at him, incredulously. "Chuck... I... since Enid, no, even before Enid, I've been having nightmares about this all over again. I'm jumpy when I meet someone new in an isolated place. I... finally told someone what happened to me, after six years, because I was worrying him. I was so worn out from not sleeping well that I got sent off to bed like child. I never talked about it before. I've been trying to forget it happened."
She sighed.
"It is the past, but that doesn't mean it's okay. Or over. Or something I ever wanted you to know about. We're friends, we play games together, and hang out with Riley, and you let me cook in your kitchen. What does it matter what my dad does, or for which government? And now you know; or you know some of it." She shrugged. "And it changes things."
Emily's arms wrapped around her middle again. "It changes things," she repeated.
[Carmichael] "No, I don't think you're okay. I'm not stupid, but I'm also not going to push you to talk about something you don't want to talk about, especially now that I know there's someone you are talking to. I'm not your therapist, or your boyfriend, I'm just your friend. And I wanted to know what you're into, or what your parents are into that touches you, because I look out for my friends to the best of my ability. It's part of what I do this. And I told you, most of what I read - other than what you and your parents do - was headlines. A quick skim here and there."
A hand rubs nervously over curls, making a mess - not that they aren't always a mess, but now it's worse. "It doesn't change anything. You're still the girl who comes to hang out and play games and sometimes cook in my kitchen."
[Littleton] "I should be really, really angry with you," she tells him, and on some level she is. Angry with him. It's a violation of her privacy, and in the course of that transgression he's dug up and ugly secret. A deep hurt. But Emily just exhales heavily and tries to let go of that irritation.
"Really angry," she repeats. (Okay, so I'm a bit nonplussed.)
"But I can appreciate what you were trying to do, once you found this," she waved absently at the laptop. "And I do, appreciate it, even if it's unorthodox and deeply invasive." Friends don't hack their friends, Carmichael. It's uncouth. And even other Geeks weren't going to understand it very well.
"I don't mind telling you some of it," she says, at last. "I'd rather you know, more or less, what happened than just conjecture based on headlines." Her eyes caught his, serious now but less angry. Less shaken. "If we're friends, and this isn't going to change things, then you can carry that. And maybe I'll be... safer... than I was carrying it alone."
It was an offer, but he didn't have to take her up on it. It was also a test.
[Carmichael] "We're friends, and it's not going to change anything. Tell me as much or as little as you want." Then there's a quirk of his lips. "I don't tell most people I look into - unless they've paid me for it. You don't think Best Buy Geek Squad alone pays enough for a place like this, do you?"
[Littleton] There's a twitch, but Emily does a fairly good job at biting back whatever it was that came to mind. Either way, it's a fair enough answer to the geek-boy cockiness (smirk [allusion to occulted skill sets]).
"I imagine you have your side projects..." she mused, noncomittally. They both had their side projects, but hers were infinitely more straightforward. She hadn't branched out into his technological pursuits, yet, but if she did Emily would likely fair well there as well. If she had the stomach for it.
"Just so we're straight on this. Were you wearing your white or black hat when you decided to go poking around in my personal life?"
Emily briefly considered what Riley would do to Chuck if he'd applied this same sense of friendship and protectiveness to her. That, was a very gratifying thought just now. Once Chuck answered, Emily wandered away from the laptop (article left up, picture of the police and ambulance gathered by a river in Prague) to sit on the couch. Chuck could join her, or not, if he wanted.
[Carmichael] "White. I haven't dusted off my black hat often since college," he says, and yes, he follows - to sit next to her, and give her the option of an arm around her if she'd rather cuddle than look at him. He knows he doesn't like looking at people when he's sharing secrets, and so she's given the option.
[Littleton] She leaned her shoulder into him, let his arm slip around her. If she hadn't gone through this with someone else, very recently, Emily would not have been able to give him the summary of events without falling apart (again).
"We were in Prag," she said, carefully. The city name was canted heavily toward the German pronunciation, and it might take a moment for Chuck to place. "It was a hardship post, so I wasn't really supposed to travel with my father anyway. We'd only been there a few days when I left the Embassy and took a city bus into town to go walking."
Very level. Eerily level. Emily didn't even tremble this time, but her voice was hollow and she sounded like she was merely reporting things to him.
"I got lost. There was a man near the corner. I thought he was asking after the time, but when I showed him my watch he grabbed me." A little pause here, and her features pinched. "I couldn't get away, he was far stronger. For three days, they beat me ... and worse. There's long stretches of time I don't remember." Said flatly. "And then they dumped me by the river, where I was found."
Emily left out a lot. And Chuck probably suspected a fair bit of what was missing. He could intuit the rest, or ask.
"I was stateside for a little bit afterwards, then in England with my godfather and his son. It took me a long time to heal, physically. About six months later, I was traveling with my parents again. Until I went to college, here, that is."
And that was that. Simple. Incomplete but better than headlines. She looked over at him, with a quirked eyebrow. Questions? Now he could ask, because she'd offered and left an opening.
[Littleton] (( Pause ))
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