IC contact post for Mask or Menace

[timecapture]

Hey! This is Max. Sorry I can't pick up right now; I'm probably snapping pictures of cute animals or something. Leave a message! Or text.

Comments

Post Rescue

[restingstitchface]

Hello, Ms. Caulfield.

Call me back once you've had a good night's sleep, would you?

[A short, simple text that doesn't wake his test subject in the early hours. But is it the effects of her imprisonment his message refers to? Their shared dreams? The trauma. The horror. The things she must have seen aboard that vessel.]

[permatext because fuck Crane, that's why]

[timecapture]

[Oh, hell, no. This is Max, completely fed up with his bullshit.]

Crane, I've just been through nine days of hell. You don't scare me anymore.

Permatext, boo

[restingstitchface]

How unfortunate. You have been through quite the extraordinary ordeal. I imagine being home is something of a relief? It must feel good to wash the stink off your person.

[timecapture]

What do you want, Crane?

[She is having none of his bullshit right now.]

[restingstitchface]

That depends on what you want, really. What, exactly, are you seeking from me?

[He wonders if she'll tell him what she desires is for him to leave her alone. Will her response to her fear be aggression? Underneath it all, he believes she'll want answers. About himself. Her life. Everything she's experienced. Including that bi-weekly jaunt in arctic waters.

And those answers - those emotions and feelings - are what he wants to learn here.]

[timecapture]

Honestly? I want you to fuck off.

[Because she is not playing that game today.]

[restingstitchface]

[You know he can't do that, Max.]

Perhaps so. Unfortunately, we don't always get what we want. That's the harsh reality of life.

[timecapture]

Right, sort of like how you don't want me to feel sorry for you.

[restingstitchface]

[Fuck off with your sympathy, Max.]

I don't want you feeling sorry for me, Ms. Caulfield. That requires knowledge and reason, and I believe you're lacking those on both fronts.

[timecapture]

I know that your family and classmates treated you like shit.

[Although this time, it's less sympathy, more not being in the mood for his bullshit - or anyone's, for that matter.]

[restingstitchface]

Do you have evidence of that?

[Are you claiming dreams are evidence, Max? Really?]

[timecapture]

Do you have proof otherwise?

[restingstitchface]

[Sigh.]

No, but I'm not the one making an accusation, Max. I don't have to prove anything.

[timecapture]

Then why are you trying to prove that it wasn't terrible?

[restingstitchface]

That's your opinion of what I'm doing? Please, get your facts straight before speaking your opinions aloud. Otherwise you seem like a fool.

[timecapture]

I'm not the one trying to mess with a teenager's head.

[restingstitchface]

Allegedly. I'm not trying to mess with you at all. Take your allegations somewhere else.

[If you can. Dreams are evidence, right? But in any case, he's not messing with her head. Not technically. Now, controlling someone by controlling their mind - her description is far too simple!]

[timecapture]

Then take your bullshit somewhere else. Preferably to a therapist.

[restingstitchface]

That's part of my sentence, you realize?

Not that any of them are deserving of the title.

[Any of them. He's made his way through at least more than one. Oh dear?]

[timecapture]

They're more deserving than you are, I'll bet.

[restingstitchface]

Oh? I'm sure they'll be glad to hear you say that.

[timecapture]

Trust me, you need help way more than I do.

[Aaaaaand she's done.]