tolaywaste | 9. » voice, filtered to INMATES only

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9. » voice, filtered to INMATES only

Okay, so. Everybody heard the Admiral's announcement, I'm guessing. I don't know how many of you think this is going to be awful and how many of you will think I'm being paranoid, and I don't really care.

Here's what I'm offering.

There are some wardens here - not a huge number, but some - who might not be able to help you prepare for the worst. Physically, I mean. I can, or at least I can help. If anybody wants that, I can make it happen. I'll talk to wardens first, though, I'm not going over anybody's head. If you don't have a warden - talk to me anyway, we'll figure something out.

private | ben

Hey, Ben. You ever play baseball?

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You are trying to help again. [It's not a statement of the obvious - it's a statement of approval.

One that vanishes before the second question, swept under by the uncharacteristically enthusiastic, immediate reply.]

Yes. I still have the glove my previous warden gave to me.

Yep. Gotta do what I can.

[That's a good thing to hear from Ben. Alex's tone's warm in response.]

Are you any good? [ . . . of course he is, it's Ben.]

[Instead of reciting the fact that he was designed and trained to be able to efficiently perform a variety of physical functions, Ben doesn't quite sound like himself when he speaks. He's quoting someone else, and he sounds like he might be smiling.]

I have a good arm and know how to hustle.

[That. Is. So. Awesome.]

Huh. Well, I guess you better show me what you can do, then. I'm starting to feel outclassed just listening to you.

You should. You are. [Bucky had done his share of trashtalking back when he'd first been teaching Ben how to play, but Ben hadn't really understood it then; now he gets just a hint of smugness in there, and just a touch of brightness. He's kidding, of course.

Well, he's not, but he is. But he's not.]

Where and when? I don't have a ball.

I'll get one. Where and when's up to you, it's your game.

This afternoon. Bucky and I used to play in the CES, but I doubt it would be suitable just now.

The deck?

[He snorts. No humor.] Probably not. Deck works, though. After lunch, I'll meet you there, okay?

Be there or be square.

[It's another phrase he picked up from somewhere else, one he wouldn't have dared use himself before... just before. Ben still runs every day but he missed the activity once Bucky had gone, and he's looking forward to it.

Which is why he's pacing the deck early after lunch, head up and eyes bright as he looks around him, holding a worn and old fashioned leather baseball glove in one hand. He's still Ben, otherwise, ash grey t-shirt and black fatigues, no jacket today. Just an almost, but not quite, uncharacteristic eagerness.]

[Alex has scrounged up a ball and another mitt from somewhere. Then, on second thought, he grabs a couple of extra balls on the off chance that Ben's good arm is better than good and will send the first couple balls over the side. Of course, he doesn't get there before Ben, because Ben's always precisely on time and Alex is still getting used to having a schedule even now.]

[Once he catches sight up him he waves, raises his voice.]

Hey! Slugger!

[It's not really fair - one of Ben's keenest dreams had once been to sleep in, to follow his own schedule. Then he'd hated it because it felt so chaotic and so unsafe. He's learning to do it again, except he can't find it in himself to be all that sincerely apologetic about being where he's supposed to be when he's supposed to be there.

The X5 doesn't wave back, but he does perform a neat, immediate about face and move quickly back down the deck towards Alex once he's spotted him.

He's smiling. Even the nickname doesn't throw him off - Bucky taught him that, too.] Good afternoon. Did you come prepared?

[He can clearly see both the glove and the baseballs, but he's not looking at them. He's looking Alex in the eye, and there's something subtly but distinctly sly about his own expression.]

[Okay, Alex can rise to a challenge with the best of them. This kind of one-upsmanship is pretty much his forte, and one he doesn't get to practice much here.]

I'm always prepared, Ben, you should know that by now.

[He tucks two of the balls away by the railing, then tosses the other from one hand to the other, tilting his chin up in challenge.]

Why're you asking? Scared?

If I don't know it, it's because I haven't seen evidence of it. [Ben's version of the same is like everything else about him compared to almost anyone else: mild, more between the lines than any kind of direct statement made by any single feature of his. He watches Alex set aside the spares, and then tracks the movement of the third as it passes between his friend's hands.

His teeth flash in something closer to an actual grin when he speaks, pulling his glove on with methodical care.]

Out of fairness, of course. Not that this will be fair, but I try to be.

[Ice burn. Alex catches all of these ice burns, as he catches most things that Ben throws him, and smirks.]

All right, I see how this is going to be. I'm just going to have to wipe the floor with you.

[The ball goes in higher and higher arcs - Alex sees the way Ben's eyes follow it - and then, abruptly, when it's halfway down the arc, he grabs it, pitches a practiced fastball. Not perfect, but good.]

I am not a... [It's only because Ben is following the ball so intently that he sees it happen - that and his vision is adapted for moving at speeds faster than the human eye can follow. His speed is not intact but his vision is, and he cuts off as he twists abruptly to give himself room to get the glove up.

He smiles - honest to god smiles - at the solid impact of the ball into the pocket of the glove. He has trouble remembering to close his fingers sometimes but he's got it this time, and he backs up several more steps down the deck when he glances back up to Alex.]

So we're warming up first. [Despite his words, Ben lobs the ball easily back underhand, back and shoulders straight, watching his friend expectantly.]

[There he goes. Alex is glad that Bucky taught him this, even though his smirk doesn't soften. Ben's smiling. It's like goddamn Christmas, honestly.]

I guess we are.

[Alex isn't as methodical about this, more instinctive; he played for a good while in high school, back when that was relevant to his life, and now he knows how the ball will fall, where the top of its arc is.]

[He catches it easily and throws it again, no warning, and farther this time.]

[It isn't, ironically, that Ben hadn't always tried to be a happy child, a calm person; it's that his familiarity with the condition is passing at best, with no concept about how to keep and protect it. He watches Alex and the ball with the same kind of enthusiasm, gaze intensely focused, at the same time as he shifts his weight lightly between the balls of his feet in readiness.

Ben doesn't need warning - head back to track it, he's under it without much difficulty, dumping it immediately out of his glove to toss it back, again with a lazy, high arc to it and sharp-eyed expectancy.]

Come on!

[They pick up an easy rhythm quickly, the two of them, Alex well-aware that he's not as good at this as Ben is but keeping up the trash talk in between moving to catch, throw, keep up.]

[His pitches get better, too, as they go. It's been too long since he's just had time to do this - he threw a ball around once or twice with Sean back home, but Sean's weedy and Ben knows what he's doing, and it's kind of awesome just to be normal for ten minutes.]

[One of the good things that Manticore gave him, one of the things he does enjoy the most, is the easy athleticism; he was designed to excel at physical tasks and maneuvers, and while he's slightly too long-limbed to be the quickest in his unit, while he's too lean to be the strongest, he's plenty coordinated for this. He very rarely misses what Alex throws him no matter how fast or hard or high the pitches come; furthermore, as Alex settles in opposite him, Ben's returns become more challenging as well, though he simply isn't an aggressive opponent.

He also learned, with Bucky, that his endurance far outstrips that of most humans; he'll play all afternoon, until they run up against another obligation, but he's watching carefully. When Alex is tired, Ben finally keeps the ball and comes trotting back down the deck, bright eyed and smiling to drop down to a neat, cross-legged sit near the railing and their remaining extra baseball, his glove in his lap.]

Not bad. [Then his smile quirks slightly crooked, and there's that mystery person again, shaping him without being here as he clearly quotes him.] We'll make a player out of you yet.

[:| :| :| Just going to :| at this forever :|]

So that's a no, then?

Now, hang on, I never said no!

If we work out together, will I get one of those choice jumpsuits of yours? [He says, as if his own costume isn't LOUD AND TERRIBLE.]

If you make it yourself.

C'monnn, aren't those things standard issue? What if I was looking to join the X-Men?

Are you? Because it sounds like you're just being a jackass.

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