explosivecombat | 029. [Text]

029. [Text]

Memory seems to be something of an elusive thing for some people, from what I've heard; I've never really considered it to be much of a problem myself, for various reasons both personal and not. But since we're all in this more or less together, and we have no obvious indication of if - or when, depending on your level of optimism - we'll be returned to our worlds of origin, I have to admit curiosity regarding the experiences of others.

Memories being the finicky things that they are, I'm sure we all have things we remember vividly about home - people, places, various other whatnot that I'm sure mattered to you at the time. I'm mostly curious about the people; you don't have to give me specifics if you choose not to, but I want to know -

What sort of things do you remember most vividly about the people that were important to you, and what sort of things do you not remember but wish you could? I'm sure we've all had that jarring moment when we realize that we don't remember what someone's voice sounded like, for example; I want to hear about things like that, if you don't mind. As always, do it anonymously, if you wish; I have less interest in your name than I do your answer.

Perhaps someday I'll learn to ask questions that are more seasonally-appropriate for any oncoming holidays; unfortunately, I've never really been one to adhere to the spirit of a season that I have no real understanding of in the first place.

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[Memories are sort of an odd thing for Archer. His memory isn't bad by any means, but he tends to keep notes to help him remember things. As Kimblee's probably noticed by now, he keeps a lot of notes.

He doesn't respond to Kimblee's post to the network right away as he's been busy rewriting his notes for about the billionth time (this time he actually has a reason; this set of notes is going to Cobra for Christmas). He's not really sure what to say. Kimblee already knows about Kimbley after all, and as far as Archer's concerned, there really isn't anything left to say on the subject.

What happened over that strange weekend doesn't count.

He finally sets his pen aside and picks up the 'Gear again, sending a brief text to his friend.]

Where are you?

[...oh, well, that's...huh.]

Do you need me to return?

It's not urgent; take your time.

Give me twenty; I'm assuming you're in the room?

[Where else does he even go...?]

Of course. I'll see you then.

[Well, yes, but sometimes he likes to try to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you have a life.]

Of course, Archer.

[If nothing else, he'll be punctual; he's doing the...usual placidity thing, honestly, but he seems generally all right. He's got Dorian with him, though the fox generally pays them no mind and promptly jumps up onto the bed once the room has been entered.]

You wanted to discuss something?

Indeed. I figured I could give you an answer to your question.

[He turns slightly from the notebooks set in front of him, tapping his fingers on the desk.]

I know you have a good memory, but is there anything in particular you wish to know about the people from my world? Hughes seemed the same as the version from your world, though there were some differences between the Mustang that was here and the one I knew. Of course there's also Kimbley as well, though I believe I've told you everything there is to know about him.

[...Well, that is...actually surprisingly helpful of you, Archer. Kimblee just kind of lets himself flop back against the wall, leaning up against it and crossing his legs at the ankle, folding his arms easily across his chest; business as usual, though he seems rather curious about the offer.]

What sort of differences were there with Mustang? I know you've told me they exist, but you never told me what they are.

Mustang is an idiot.

[Well no duh, Kimblee already knew that...]

The version I know is nowhere near as intelligent as the one who was here. If that man had any brains, he was certainly good at pretending they didn't exist. He was a slacker who refused to do his work, which usually got shoved off on someone like me, and he probably would have gotten himself killed within ten minutes had he shown up here.

[...Has he mentioned he really hates Mustang today?]

While I certainly didn't like the version that was here, he was much more tolerable and might have even posed a threat to us had he stayed here. The version from my world is nothing like that. Yes, there are similarities, but like with Kimbley, the differences are very striking.

[Ahhh, there's the vitriol.]

Speaking of, I don't suppose you saw that one recently, did you? We had another blackout.

[Archer's expression doesn't alter at all but the way his hands twitch is a dead giveaway.]

I saw him, yes. I don't remember much of it.

[He knows he should have come up with something better than that, but for the life of him he can't think of anything else to say.]

[...Great. So Archer's being hedgy.]

Do you recall what condition you were in?

[Let's start there, then.]

[That gets Archer to turn back to the notebooks, flipping through the pages absently. It's easier to talk about this if he's not looking at Kimblee.]

I believe I had the automail.

[That's safe enough to say, right?]

[Oh.]

How did he handle it? Do you recall?

[...]

No. I don't.

[He's very tense, gripping the notebook in front of him like it's the last thing tethering him to this world, knuckles going white (well, whiter).

As long as he doesn't think about it, he's fine. As long as he doesn't think about it, he's fine.]

[Archer's reaction isn't lost on him, and Kimblee has to actively bite back his kneejerk response to it - to tell him to stop being ridiculous, to quit lying to him because it's obvious that's what he's doing, to demand answers. His hands tighten a little against the fabric of his coat, and even if he's smirking a bit the reaction is mechanical, the sort of thing he does because he isn't sure what else to do with his face, and he just...breathes for a moment and tries to work out what the hell he's supposed to say now.]

...If you want to talk, I'll listen.

[That's...acceptable, he's fairly sure.]

[Archer does turn to face him then, surprised. Normally Kimblee would press, insisting that they need to talk about whatever it is that's bothering Archer with the mistaken idea that it will help somehow. The fact that Kimblee isn't pushing is almost disturbing.

But... they did talk about this. Archer remembers yelling at Kimblee about how much he hates it when Kimblee presses him on things like this. He hadn't really expected Kimblee to take that into consideration. He's not really sure what to do with the fact that Kimblee has.

For some reason, this is just making him want to tell Kimblee about it. That's not fair.]

...He wanted to kill me.

[The words are soft and they're out there before Archer really knows what to do with them. He looks momentarily alarmed before he returns to studying his notes, though he's not really seeing them.

Confirming this isn't doing anything to make things better.]

He wanted to kill me!

[Oh look, there's the shouting everyone's so familiar with.]

[Honestly, the fact that it's not fair and it tends to work is why Kimblee switched to that tactic to begin with...but that is really neither here nor there.

His eyes widen at Archer's words and for a good long time he just sort of stares, as he tends to when he isn't sure how to process something that he's just been told; he seems to regroup eventually, at least, though that odd staring hasn't quite left him.]

Are you sure? Did he threaten you, or was it something else?

[Archer's shoulders are shaking and it almost looks like he's laughing. It takes him a long time to get the shudders under control and he rolls his shoulders absently while he thinks. He grips the notebook tighter so it's not as obvious that his hands are still shaking.

He hadn't thought this had terrified him this badly. He has never been so wrong.]

It wasn't... a threat. He examined the automail to see what it was made of. Then he... he got this look; I don't know how to describe it. It was obvious what he was thinking.

You've told me before that he does strange things through touch...that he can tell you the chemical makeup of anything he puts his hands on. Isn't that right?

[...

...Oh, wait just a minute - ]

...You think he was assessing materials, then.

Yes. Yes. I know he was. I've seen him do it before.

[That odd look in his eyes, the way he hesitates just a bit while he works out the best way to create an explosion... it's too familiar.]

He didn't do anything, however. Did he?

[His words are tight, agitated; it's clear from the look in his eyes that something's riling him.]

[Archer lets out a shaky breath, shaking his head slowly.]

No. He didn't.

[But living for three days under the threat of constant explosion was not pleasant.]

[That seems to relax him, though that odd look in his eyes isn't quite going away.]

Ah, that's good, then; I would have hated for our first meeting to be an immediately unfortunate one - we wouldn't even have been able to exchange pleasantries, if that were the case.

[Archer knows his response should be to tell Kimblee not to kill the other version of himself. He should be irritated that Kimblee would even consider that, especially given what they're going through to try to bring him to this world.

But he doesn't say that. This must have upset him more than he thought it had.]

...He didn't act on it, but I know he was working out how best to...

[He can't bring himself to finish, shaking his head instead.]

Why the hell did he think that was a good idea!? We're-- We're friends!

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