2007-06-17: Practice Makes Crafty


Elle_icon.gif McAlister_icon.gif

Summary: After the recent discovery of the DJ's abilities, Elle and Ali sit down for a practice session… and things, perhaps, don't go entirely as intended.

Date It Happened: June 17th, 2007

Practice Makes…Crafty

Jane and Elle's apartment, NYC

One more day, one more oddity. But, hey, at least Ali's looking a little better, right? She's got a little more color to her, and.. while she hasn't said much most of the day, she's been.. thoughtful. Introspective. By the time the evening's rolled around, while she still hasn't eaten anything? She's taken up a spot in the floor in front of the couch, and she's managed to empty most of that bag onto the carpet in front of her. There, she rummages - receipts, cheap cosmetics, a hairbrush, a half-eaten pack of mints.. normal stuff. But throw in the rubber bands, the handful of superballs, and the little electronic device that when you hit a button farts merrily? Well.. she's not normal, and it shows.

She.. seems to be arranging things. Making piles. Sorting through the bits and pieces of life that one accumulates. One thing she's studiously avoiding, though, is the wallet with its visible fat-stack of pictures inside.

Elle comes out of her room. Well, Ali is still here, which means that there's -less- chance she needs to call in for Company intervention. "Hey there." she says, as she looks over to the DJ/Bartender.

McAlister looks up.. and smiles. It's tentative, but warm. "Hey." That word's safe. And - it's obvious that she's being very careful in the words she chooses. "I didn't run. That's something, right? I want to. Haven't."

The electroblonde nods. "It's a good first step. It keeps me from doing things I don't want to have to do. Hopefully my little cautionary tale counted for something."

"I don't want to be a problem." Ali looks back down to the pile, then, sifting through receipts. "I can see where I am - or could be. Or was, even. I'm scared, Elle. Really scared - but in the end, the only one responsible for me is me, right?" A cough. "I minored in philosophy. Useless liberal arts maven. Comes in handy when you're staring stuff in the face, though. If I want to be decent, I have to sort out the how. The /what/, too." She pauses, then adds, softly - "But nobody's putting me in a box. Or you, for that matter. Nobody's got that right."

Elle hesitates just a moment, and then replies "They already did. So you're a little late on that front." She isn't sure if Jane told her or Ali figured it out. But maybe it'll help convince her.

"And I won't trust them for that. God help them if they try it again." The resolve is iron, the young woman's jaw setting again. "Let's be real. You and Jane are about the only friends I /know/ I have. And.. you haven't thrown me out, after what I did to you."

Elle smiles dryly. "I'm not a whole lot of a friend to have. But I'll try and help you get the control part down. It's going to be a practice issue."

"And to practice, I need a target." Ali's got a point, there - and the fact that she's thought that far hopefully speaks to the mind beneath the indy rock junkie. "And I won't use you. Or Jane. So this is kind of a problem."

Elle nods. "Yes. But the problem is with the refusal. You do need a target, and you do need to practice, which means that by default, it needs to be one of us. So, it's me. We need to get to it."

Ali bites her lip. "Get to it. I'm supposed to learn how /not/ to do things to you, right?" Still, she picks words carefully, starting to stuff things back in that bag. "So how do you even do that?"

Elle looks to Ali, and raises a hand, and one of her lightning balls appears in it. "You do it by learning control. You do it by learning HOW to do it, so that by extension you know how -not- do do it. You don't see me bleeding electricity all over the place, do you?"

"Mmph." Ali's in the floor in front of the couch, slowly refilling her bag with knicknacks that she's apparently dumped out of it and put into neat piles. "Did you used to? 'cause, you know, tasering the cat would just be awful." It's a gentle sort of teasing, as best it can be - an attempt at humor.

Elle replies "I did all the things I said this morning, Ali. Burned down my grandmother's house. Blacked out four counties in Ohio."

"I figured." Ali looks down - touches that wallet. "So what happens next?"

Elle replies. "Now you practice." She moves over, dispelling the lightning ball, and sits. "I'm the guinea pig. So make with it, Ms. Scientist."

McAlister takes a breath. "You know I don't like this.." She frowns, turning, turning the wallet over in her fingers. "Tell me what your boy looks like." It's not tentative. It's even firm. Serious. And.. also, apparently, safe.

Elle answers "Black hair, about 5'8". Quirky smile. Nice eyes. But Ali, that's something I would have told you anyway. To test this is needs to be things I wouldn't do."

McAlister shakes her head. "No. No it doesn't. I've been thinking. If the person I'm talking with just doesn't want to - isn't that good enough? See - you know. You know that you won't do whatever I ask, not right now. So what's safer than that? This way.. you're not trying to feel me up, and I'm not hurting you." Then she points out, softly - "I can't ask more. I just can't." But she goes on to say, "Tell me how you met him."

Elle shakes her head. "I can't." Her voice is quiet. "I don't remember."

McAlister wheedles, clearly curious, even as she focuses more on Elle. "You don't? He had to sweep you off your feet somehow. I mean, he seems like a pretty great guy, and you like him, right? You have to tell me how that happened - I'll die of curiosity, otherwise."

Elle shakes her head. "I -can't-, Ali. They blanked my memories. I don't -remember-."

McAlister considers that for a long moment. "I wonder.." And then there's … a long moment. A clear considering of words, one can almost see the gears turning. But she asks, softly - "You want to? I mean.. maybe I can't do anything with it. But let's say I really can make you do anything.. think I could, you know.. make you remember?"

Elle shakes her head. "No." Her voice is flat. "The memories are gone. I've had a telepath try and recover it. There's nothing left to recover."

McAlister nods. "Then I won't try." She.. oddly enough.. offers her hand. "So tell me what you /can/ remember. How about talking about the last date you two went on?" She tries out a warm smile - though there's something wan in her expression. Apparently.. this kind of focus isn't easy.

Elle smiles. "You're still on stuff I'd do anyway, Ali. We went out to an amusement park. I rode my first roller coaster. We played games on the thoroughfare and won stuffed animals. It was fun. It was a lot of fun."

Ali smiles, but nods. "It does sound nice. Better than my last date, seriously." But then, oddly.. she says, simply, then, "Let me go home tonight." It's plaintive, and soft. "That's something you aren't planning on doing, isn't it? Let me go home."

Well, that's true enough. But Elle nods. "Sure. Need a lift home?" It's almost scary. There's no hesitation, she just agrees like she'd never raised an objection."

Ali shakes her head. "No.' In fact, she pulls that bag into her lap, looking… mildly frightened. "The more I want something, the easier it is." It's soft, more to herself than Elle, but.. it's still out there. "It's so strange - I can sort of feel it. Like … I can't even explain the 'like'."

Elle nods. "Well, then I'll see you when you get back." She smiles. She still apparently seems entirely convinced on the "Ali's going home" notion.

McAlister does stand. Shameless DJ, taking advantage of practice - but she leans in, oddly, to offer a fierce hug. Or what will be a fierce hug, if it's accepted. "Elle? I promise I'll come back. And I'll come back soon - I want to get a handle on this."

Elle hugs Ali back. "Sure!" Oh, when she realizes, Elle is gonna be PISSED. But for right now, she just seems perfectly at ease. "I'll see you when you get back, and then we can start practicing."

Ali nods. "We already are. Try not to hate me tomorrow?" Whatever else, the DJ's expression is bleak as she turns for the door, shouldering her bag. "I'm serious about you being about the only friend I have. Well, you and Jane. At least, that I /know/ are friends - I won't let you down."

Elle nods. "Take care, Ali. Come back soon." She steps up to give her a hug.

Oh, the DJ returns it, even clinging for a moment. "I will. I promise." And she heads for the door. What more is there? There's something oddly grim in how she moves out into the hall, but there's significant purpose in it.

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