Feeling Your Pain... All Of It.

Log Info

Title: Feeling Your Pain… All Of It
Emitter: None
Characters: Ian, Maggie & Claire
NPCs: None
Place: The Student Center
Time: The Night of 6/10/2010
Summary: Maggie and Ian play pool, Claire comes in. Drama Ensues. WARNING: PARENTAL ADVISORY EXPLICIT CONTENT RATED M FOR MATURE!

"You have definitely gotten better." Maggie is not one to give props where they are not due. Really, she's not very heavy with the compliments at all. But, as she stands here beside the pool table in the student center, holding her stick and watching Ian take his shot.. well.. she's impressed! She was certain this would be a done-deal from break, but he's given her quite a run for her money, and now that there are only three balls left on the table, he is in the lead. She stands with hip pushed to the side and one hand on it, leaning slightly on the pool cue and trying to puzzle out her next shot before it's even her turn. It's sneakers, jeans, and a low-cut top that does wonderous things for her cleavage today. When you haven't got a ton of it, every little push counts! "Shoot a lot of pool in New Orleans, did you?"

"California, actually. And this little tavern in a town not far from Eugene, Oregon. Nawlin's was more of a city for the dancing dark. Saw a lot of blues shows there." Ian wasn't a pool savant by any stretch of the imagination, but he had found during his Wanderlust that the game - much like cigarettes was an excellent ice breaker when talking to strangers. If he notices her attire, Ian doesn't show it, not that style was much his thing anyway. Take today for example: A beanie, Sud Afrika collared soccer jersey, and a pair of cargos. Tim Gunn he was not. He leans a bit, right eye narrowing before he takes the next shot, sinking it in at the corner pocket. "It's a good way to kill the time. And there was no way I was karoking at most of those bars." His next shot is wide, bouncing around before slowly lining against the far felt. "Tournament worthy, however, I am not."

Claire wanders in, looking a little tired, though with all the makeup she wears, it's sometimes hard to tell. Claire is dressed to impress as usual, with a tight, shiny black miniskirt with a fringe of black lace around the hem almost painted over her hips and upper thighs accented by thigh-high white stockings and a pair of black, patent leather mary janes with 5" platform heels. A white black leather belt is resting at an angle, supported on her hips while above she wears a white tank top and a black, bolero jacket with puffy shoulders and long sleeves, cut so it falls only to the middle of her back. Her hair is left long and straight but held out of her eyes with a black plastic headband adorned with two little skulls grinning fron either side of her head. Over her shoulder is the strap connected to her round, black 'Nightmate Before Christmas' purse. Her iPod earbuds are lodged in her ears while the device itself is clipped to her belt. She pauses when she enters and gives the couple a bright smile. "Oh, hey Maggie, Hey Ian." She winks to Maggie and walks over to the vending machines, her shoes clomping along the ground.

Oh yeah, that's right, Maggie never did tell Ian about her talk with Claire. Oh well, let him figure it out. "Hey kitten," she responds with a finger-wiggling wave, friendly enough without overdoing it. When Ian blows his shot - ha! typical man - she winces in fake sympathy for him, then makes a mocking sad face before begining to round the table. She bumps her hip against him quite on purpose and apologizes, "Oh, excuse me, excuse me," while pushing him aside. When she gets the line she wants, the cue is raised, and she takes a shot at her final remaining colored ball. And in it goes. "/Yes/!" She pops up and turns to grin at him in that devious, I'm Gonna Kick Your Ass kind of way, then moves off to the other side.. They both only have the eight ball left.. She lines it up, takes the shot.. and misses. By a few inches, actually. "Argh!" Cue pouty face. As she gets out of Ian's way, she glances back towards Claire at the nearby vending machine and looks the girl over. ".. Is that a Bolero? Very nice."

If only people were mind readers. Or had a window to past conversations. Ian had neither, so when Claire walks in and… winks to Maggie, he finds himself pausing - sparing a blink or two before shaking his head. "Seems like I missed a reconiliation, apparently," Ian murmurs equally to himself as the others, leaning a bit more heavily on his pool stick. Looking rather nonplaused about missing his shot, the young man instead opts to turn. "Gothling," is his way by greeting, nodding his head before offering a quick splay of fingers - apparently one of his habits of greeting. "What's up?" Of course it's about then that Maggie misses, which only causes Reb to grin lightly. Well, only for him to make a poor shot attempt, leaving both the cueball and the 8 bouncing around. "Blah, just a game anyway." Excuses, Ian, excuses.

Claire puts her money into the machine and gets her usual, a bottle of water and then from another machine, a bag of dried apple rings. "Hey Mags. Good eye. Yeah, it's Bolero." She does a little spin, letting her long hair swing around her head as she does so. When she stops, she chuckles. "Just thought I'd go monochrome tonight. It's an effective look. Heck, it worked for all those Hollywood sex symbols before they invented color." She looks to Ian and nods. "I just figured if you and Mags there were going to be an item again, I should try and be a good friend to my good friends girl." She twists open the cap on her bottle and kicks back a sip of water, lowering it again and leaving a trail of red and black from her lipstick on the rim.

Maggie bites on the nail of her thumb - which, like all her nails, is just a little long and french-tipped. When Ian misses the shot, she actually fistpumps in excitement. Just a TAD bit competitive. There's a quick glance as, by Maggie's estimation, Claire tries to make it sound like she didn't have to be practically bullied into giving up on the anger and storming away, but hell, she's not going to make the point. Just smirk slightly and return focus to her game. She takes a bit more care to try and line up this shot, but it's a tricky one. "Could you leave the damn cue-ball any farther away?" she asks Ian, glancing up at him with an arched brow and a grin. So the shot is taken, and she misses. Again. There's another sigh of frustration as she straightens up. "Right. Just a game." She glances back towards Claire again and notes, for whatever reason, the transfer of lipstick. "You should try Lip Tar. This company, Obsessive Compulsive Cosmetics? They sell 'em online. They stay a little better. Gotta throw shit-tons of gloss on them by noon, though."

"Count me in as a fan of those old school flicks." Ian's alter ego was so named Noir after all! Though, for much different reasons. The small talk brings to bare, however a small little slip of words that's all too familiar in Ian's ears. Although last time he was the one speaking it, and the recipient had ented up turning her pool stick into mulch. He doesn't go that far, however, instead saying quite honestly - "We're not dating." Factual. Not remotely enemies, nor even with an anonymosity. After the so-called reunion at the coffee house went as bad as it possibly cool, things went about improving. When Maggie misses her shot, Ian shifts aside, leaning forward to find the proper trajectory of his ball. Unfortunately, physics wasn't his strong suit - He misses pretty horribly. It was perhaps a good thing he wasn't often competitive, or he'd be on the edge of aneurysm constantly.

Claire pulls out her iPhone (she's a total Apple whore) and pops in the web address Maggie gives her, saving it to her favorites. "Thanks Mags. I hate having to redo my lips every time I eat anything." She chuckles and strikes a pose that on anyone with anything resembling actual curves would be considered sultry, "I would kill to look as good as some of those black and white pin up girls. Bettier Page? Yes please." She's just tearing open the package of apple rings when Ian clears up any doubt about his status with Maggie. "Oh, wonder where I ever got that idea." When Ian isn't looking, she narrows her eyes at Maggie, then smiles again before Ian can see the look. "Still, kind of a shame, you two are cute together. Well, Hot is more the word I'm looking for."

Maggie watches Ian line up his shot, mind mostly on the game, when he oh-so-casually disabuses Claire of her perception that Maggie and Ian are back together. She can feel the goth's eyes on her, though her own do not leave Ian. Her expression is a perfect mask of neutrality, showing no reaction at all to his words, or to Claire's when she talks about how cute they are together. She is, however, trying to remind herself why she didn't gut the little red-head when she had the chance. Ian misses, and Maggie rounds the table to line up her shot. She takes quite a lot of consideration in picking the line of it, takes in a slow, steadying breath.. then says just as simply, "So we're just fucking, then." The cue slides forward, strikes, and sinks the 8 ball decisively. When Maggie looks up, still without much expression at all beyond the slightest arch of a brow, she looks straight back at Ian again.

Perhaps Stoker should have known. Two red heads in the same room - and each with a valid reason to dislike each other and habor maybe just a touch of anger at him? Oh yeah. He should have known. "Uh.. interesting word choice there," Ian supplies to Claire before turning to look for the chalk. Missing the look that Claire gives Maggie, he turns about in time right in time to hear her words. He stiffens slightly, eyes widening marginally at what the young woman had the gaul to say. Then again, and for the third time. Well, you know. "We did," he murmurs a moment later, seeing no sense in trying to deny anything. It would only go badly, either furthering it out of context, or making it seem like denial. "But there was talk in there too. About trying to figure things out first." He keeps his voice cool, though there's an edge he couldn't even take out, even as the 8 ball snaps in the pocket only inches from him. His eyes shift just a moment from Maggie to Claire before he murmurs: "I was gonna ask if you wanted to join in," on the pool, "But I think the conversation's just changed." Oh yeah.

Claire just keeps drinking her water as if nothing had been said out of the ordinary. When she lowers the bottle, she smiles sardonically. "Damn, you move fast Maggie." Popping another apple chip in her mouth, Claire cocks her hips to one side and keeps that little sarcastic grin on her face. "Wish I'd thought of that when I was trying to get with him. Oh yeah, I wouldn't. I'm not a slut." She turns and tosses her half-empty water bottle into a trash can and begins to walk out, clearly more upset by what she just heard than she is trying to let on.

Maggie holds on to her pool cue as her gaze bores into Ian, totally unreadable even when he begins to speak to her. When he finishes, she opens her mouth as if to say something, only to have Claire begin to gloat. And call her a slut. Her teeth come together audibly, lips draw in a line and jaw tightening.. But she says nothing. There is a brief glance in Claire's direction before Maggie turns her eyes on to Ian once more, and the green irises may seem to even darken as her brows gather just subtly. But she says nothing, still. Her fingers hold the pool cue so tightly her knuckles turn white, her chest tightens, her eyes locked on his.. all in silence. She's waiting. For what, only Maggie knows.

It's in these moments that Ian truly realized errors in his judgement. Mainly, for the fact he ever left his room. It was an inevitability it seemed - with him using the wrong words at the wrong times. Or doing something. Or even as importantly not. Taking in Claire's words, and Maggie's reaction to them, Ian's mouth thins to a line, face turning into a complete mask for a half of a second. "God damn," he mutters, cue stick tossed to the table with a bit more vigor than it really needed. "Maggie's not a slut. Don't play the score like that Claire. You damn well know there was history. And what happened I have no fucking regrets about, and am not going to justify it you like I should." He pauses, feeling himself seeth, though his anger isn't directed just to Claire. There's a look shot back to Maggie, but no words in that. Not yet at least. And it didn't even come to the inner monologue he was having himself. "And if you think it's just that easy…" he adds in a second later, hands slipping into pockets. He never finishes that sentence, instead turning his back away as he tries to center himself. Putting on a face again. "I swear to god, I'm going to fucking go insane if one more god damn person tries to drop one more god damn innuendo or statement of fucking gospel without knowing the god damn score that goes with it." It was probably the most verbally agressive he's been as Ian in a very long while. "Really. Hate me, hate each other - Drop gloves or kiss and make up or out or cut it all off - Or just fucking put a bullet in my head because I AM SICK OF ALL THIS FUCKING DRAMA." This would be about when the would should have come out to kill everybody in the room, right? No such luck for Ian. He's dealing with this one solo, the only hint of Noir a low chuckle ringing his eardrums.

Claire stops where she is and turns back around. "Well," she begins, a bit angry, "I wish someone -would- tell me what's actually going on. Maggie comes to me yesterday and tells me I have to play nice with her because you and her are back together again and I'm all nice and don't read her mind to see if she's telling the truth because I promised Sunday I wouldn't do that randomly anymore but no if I had this never would have happened and," she pauses to take a shuddering breath, "I thought I had friends and everything was going good and I'd forgiven you for that shit that happened here after the Sasha mess and then this… this…" she restrains herself, "girl shows up and just shatters the good things we had going as a group of friends and drags up all of your past with her. You want me to be frank you look like shit lately Ian, I've been worried sick and then Maggie shows up and all I see is things getting worse. I don't want the drama anymore than you do, you think I like this? Fuck no! I have more important things to worry about. Tim and I are trying to track down that Reel to Reel bastard who fucked with my head, I need to concentrate on that. It's waaaaay more important but I can't because I care. Ok, I care too much about my friends. I have precious few as it is. After last night I was even willing to try and be friends with Maggie but I knew she was playing me, I knew she was lying and I told that little voice inside me to shut up and I took a chance. She told me last night that with her back in your life if we couldn't be friends you would have to choose between your friends here including me and her and that we would lose and that would tear you apart. I didn't want you torn… I was willing to put up with her superior, snobby, condescending attitude but I was used. Fuck it, from now on I just read everyone's mind first and know what they really want. I hate being used and played and lead on. Things were fucking easier when everyone just hated me for being a freak. Friendships hurt too much!"

Maggie watches Ian give her the best defense she knows he can, knowing very well he's pissed off at her as well. His look speaks volumes. Maggie, however, remains quiet still. Claire turns and begins her emotional ranting and Maggie finally focuses on something other than Ian, listening, stoney and silent. Finally, she sucks in a very deep, steadying breath.. "So do it." The statement is left to hang in the air for a moment before Maggie elaborates. "Tell me how it works, and read my mind. And get your question answered once and for all. But I have one condition." Her eyes shift to Ian. "You have to tell him everything. No spin, just exactly what you see. And you," speaking to Ian now, she lowers her voice slowly, sounding almost pained. "You have to listen to every word of it."

Ian's temper abates somewhat as Claire fires back at his rant with equal ferver. There's a small blink before Ian's mouth open and close. "I want in," he adds after a moment. About Reel to Reel. He too had a score to settle. And he felt the coils inside him trimmer. There was violence to be had, and he needed to let it out at least on someone who deserved such. Last time they met, it nearly cost some of Ian's closest friend's their lives. He would be damned if it would happen again. But that thought was an interlude. A passing observation in a sea of bitter thoughts, and lover's laments. "She was right in one way," Ian finally admits, after a moment. "It is tearing me up." Maggie is the next one to speak, and Ian listens to her words, breath catching just for the shortest of moments. It was something he'd never seen before. And only the third or fourth complete difference he had seen in the girl since a year ago. The acceptance of letting someone inside her head. "I'll listen." And then Ian's turning around to look at the two red heads again, propping his back against the pool table. "And if you want my piece, go into my head. All of it, no part's taboo. And share. Cause apparently any time I speak, it only fucks things up further."

Claire crosses her arms over her chest and sniffles a little. She looks to Maggie first. "Ok. But know this, if you let me in, there will be NO secrets. I will know anything you do that I want to. I will be able to see your secrets. There will be nothing you can hide from me. If you are willing to do that, then yes, I will go in and say everything." She looks to Ian. "Same for you. No secrets. No holding back. I will say everything I see."

Almost the moment Ian offers up his thights, Maggie shakes her head sharply. "No." Her eyes shift between Ian and Claire. "I don't need to hear it." Fixing on Ian again, the girl almost seems to frown, but with the expression in her eyes alone. "I believe you." The implication being: You don't believe /me/, and THAT is the problem. When Claire explains the rules of the game.. Maggie feels herself go cold. She once again looks about to speak, about to object to 'digging'.. but then she just looks like she's got something to hide. She feels caught.. so she nods. "Do it."

"I agree with that. And do it." Why? Well that's simple enough for Ian to explain as he looks back, making eye contact with Maggie. Because though she very clearly understands why she needs to do it, he is sure she doesn't see it all: You don't understand /me/, or why I'm trying to do how I have to. And his jaw sets like that, in the manner of donkey when set on his way. Really wasn't that hard for Stoker - as much of an ass as he made himself lately. "No secrets. And perhaps something close to perspective as we can muster."

Claire sighs a bit. "One at a time. One at a time." She takes a deep breath and pulls up a chair before sitting in it. She looks right at Maggie and her eyes go wide. She just concentrates and it almost, almost looks like the air in front of her forehead distorts a bit, like looking through the waves of heat coming off of hot asphault on a sunny Summer day. "Don't resist. Just relax and open your mind to me. I don't want to fight you." Ok, that's a lie but maybe not for long.

Maggie looks back at Claire, taking a deep breath to steady herself.. then wincing. She grips the edge of the pool table she's resting against and says nothing, however, just looking back at the goth girl.

Claire begins to red Maggie's mind. She starts with a neutral expression and begins to speak softly, "Maggie honestly loves you, Ian. She's scared of me reading her mind, she doesn't like this idea but she's more scared of your leaving her again. She… she blames herself for what happened to you, she thinks she lost you because she fucked it all up. She was so torn up about what happened," The teen goth swallows hard and her expression changes, softening, she blushes, shudders and bites her bottom lip, "I see… what happened between you two just recently, the memory is so fresh the," She makes a little whimpering sound and shakes her head, "Move on. She thought of you once as a puppy, she throught your were annoying and then sweet and then you were hers and then she loved you so much but that's not you anymore." Claire tries to calm herself, the recent touch of complete and utter… pleasure in Maggie's mind making her almost lose her concentration.
"She remembers the day it all happened to you, as if it were yesterday, it plays in her head over and over and over. I can see a dark house, a terrifying figure and… and it attacks you and she blames no one but herself. And she doesn't like me at all, she doesn't like me for instantly judging her, for accusing me of trying to ruin everything. She honestly believed when she can to me that you were back together again, after… after that, after you said You never stopped loving her. God… I am so sorry Maggie, I am so sorry. You have every right to hate me… I'm stupid, selfish little girl. I'm so sorry." She swallows hard, tears welling in her eyes and then sliding down her cheeks. "I don't blame you for wanting to hurt me. I… I am so sorry for calling you a slut. You love Ian… he is your one and only. I… I… God, I am so sorry, so sorry! I don't deserve to call myself a friend if I… I deny someone a love so genuine. Please Maggie, please Ian… just forgive me." Her anger has completely melted into horror and shame at her own actions. She's just staring at Maggie and trying not to rush over and give her a hug.

Ian sits there and listens to the words the slowly come from Claire's mouth, refusing at least for the time to make eye contact with any of them. But each word is taken in and slowly digested, the signifance never once lost on him. When she finally ends, he does indeed stand up and walk the distance of a few feet to hug Claire. She was first because of her openess, and the cresfallen expression she had upon her. It is, though in the end, a brief embrace - perhaps there would be another later -. Now through there was a more imminent need. He looks at Maggie again for a long moment, before sitting down next to her, trying to find her hand with his if she will allow it. Stoker leans, and whispers something to Maggie's ear before simply resting his head upon her shoulders - Suddenly feeling the weight of theirs for years come crashing down to see … well… a broader truth to the picture.
Ian has reconnected.

Claire swallows and hugs Ian back weakly, but she shoves him towards Maggie after a moment. "She… she needs you more than I do." She fumbles for her cellphone and pushes a few buttons, staring at the something on the screen. She just swallows hard and stares, the tears just won't stop.

There is.. something indescribibly painful about hearing your heart and soul laid bare before a total stranger, especially for someone as intensely private as Maggie. She is on her surface an extrovert for the masses - she will tell you she is a bitch, she is not to be trusted, she is a person who hurts other people. But she will never tell you she feels, she loves, and she herself is hurting. With every word Claire speaks, every little truth of Maggie's soul that falls from her lips, the young woman's head falls farther until her face is obscured completely by a mess of red hair and bangs. Claire can see her like no one else ever has, and for that, Maggie wants to lash out and scratch the girls eyes out. It is completely irrational and completely insane, but there is a heavy price to be paid for knowing the heart of someone who has tried so very hard to encase it in stone. Ian has paid that price himself, in full. Claire, however, never fully will. Maggie does nothing to stop Ian from taking her hand, or whispering in her ear, but after he's said his pice her head turns up just enough for her to look up at him… with eyes absolutely consumed in darkness. Two black, menacing voids where those emerald green eyes used to be. "I-" The voice that comes is Maggies, and it's not Maggies. There is something behind it, within it, and laced through it. Something inhuman. Maggies eyes squeeze shut then and she pushes off the table, away from him, and makes for the exit with a quick step. "I wanna be alone." Maggies voice, and only her own. As she goes by Claire, the younger girl is offered a very soft "I'm sorry," before she just keeps going.

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