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[supercilious]

Pick a loser. (there are specific posts for eames, destiny characters, and overwatch characters) Leave a comment with your character and put which one of mine you want in the header. Leave a prompt! Be it a picture or an idea or something you hijacked from a meme. If it's a meme overflow, link the original thread because I'm a baby with a bad memory. Or leave it blank and I'll try to think up something. NSFW content goes here. And a great time was had by all

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[walkingballpit]

That laugh doesn't ignite the same sort of triumphant glow that Robbie's always gotten when he gets someone to laugh. It used to be basking in attention, now it's more relief at knowing he is doing the best possible imitation of himself.

But that forced little laugh? How many times had Robbie gasped out one huff of a laugh, to show solidarity or meet expectations or sarcastically comment on his situation, when he was still able to do that? Too many, way too many to believe that Terry's amused.

Luckily, Robbie was never laughing about it either. He hadn't meant to be funny. He'd only meant to frame the truth positively. It's something that he's been trying to work on, spinning everything properly. The students do need a lesson in perspective. Of course, they need one. They're high school students, and neither he nor Terry are old enough to have forgotten what that entails.

It just so happens that he also meant 'please scare the shit out of Hazmat, because I don't think she has a healthy appreciation for what can happen if someone's powers get out of control.'

Robbie doesn't get time to wallow in feeling guilty about that. He fits in a fleeting thought along the lines of 'is it really that different than being brought in as the poster child of screw-ups?' Then, Terry lays it at his feet that he's here to see Robbie. "Right."

His mouth feels really dry. Suspected and knowing are two vastly different things, and now talking feels more like an insurmountable task than a chore. Everything you say can and will be used against you in the court of Terry's opinion.

Fuck, he misses the blank metal of the Penance helm. It was so much easier to face the world.

"I knew that," he said quietly. There wasn't much other reason for Terry to have turned up. Don't fidget, don't start accusing Vance of colluding with anyone, don't mention nightmares, don't talk about the first day on the job. Do breathe normally. "But... I also know you didn't put me back in the field. That's what they wanted, isn't it? Moonstone messed me up, I remember her drugging me... and then I was with the Initiative."

[traumatizing]

"I had to sign off on it." His voice is quiet, with the weight of what he's saying rather than tiredness, and he's still staring holes in his coffee. It's not something he can get in the details of, every session being little more than placating Robbie enough to keep him calm, signing forms to say he's fit for field duty. He swallows the lump in his throat and shakes his head, "every psycho the Hood brought with him, every person who needed help. All of them rolled through my office and right back out to fight."

It feels like a confession, but there's none of that uplifting feeling. That weightlessness that comes with finally getting something off your chest after holding it so tight it threatens to choke you at night.

He just feels guilty all over again.

Saying it is like a reminder of all the shit they made him do, every time signing a form felt like signing over a piece of himself. But there's also this sudden and acute awareness of who he's speaking to - Robbie should be the last person he tells about any of that.

His expression is suddenly worried, and he really can't bring himself to look at Robbie now. Like he's going to look up and see that same expression he sees in the mirror every morning. That reminder he can wear a suit and do nice things, but he can't hide what he's done. What he is.

"I'm sorry, I just-- I mean." He stumbles over his words in his haste to get them out, to move past all that like he never said anything. His shit doesn't matter, it's not what they're talking about. "I can't be the bad guy. Especially not to them."

[walkingballpit]

Fucked up, like everything else. Now it's perfect. Terry's upset; Robbie can hear it in his voice. Robbie upsets people; it seems to be what he's best at.

He isn't prepared for this apologizing, which makes very little sense. Robbie was the one who had been messed up, yet he was still aware enough to know that, if Terry hadn't done as ordered, they would have used nanites on him.

It's very easy to get people to do what you want when you can shock them and make them vomit by remote control, but they hadn't needed to use them on Robbie. He hadn't objected to what they wanted him to do. Bring in the untrained, the unregistered, the criminals who will wind up killing someone - like you did, son.

He didn't mean to yell at Hazmat like he did. It's not her dreaming about kids screaming and the smell of burnt pork. It's him. That's why he's up this early and why he'd bothered to see if Terry was awake in a moment of weakness. Robbie should have run for the hills. Instead, he leaves a bread crumb trail because he thinks he's smart enough to meet it head-on.

He's as dumb as everyone thinks he is.

"You aren't a bad guy." Robbie is determined to keep the focus on Terry. "There weren't any good decisions to make."

White-knuckling his coffee mug finally leads to tension making it pop out of his hands like a shot. It falls to the floor in slow motion and explodes like a grenade. Robbie sighs and crouches down to start picking up the pieces. "... this isn't a metaphor, I promise. You could make the awful choice or the other awful choice. Really, the only difference was who got hurt, and I was. It wasn't any worse than what I was doing, anyway. I'd be the bad guy for the students, if I could. But…"

He shrugs helplessly and refuses to look over at Terry. "I have to get out of bed and face Vance every day. I don't think I can scare teenagers and still do that."

[traumatizing]

Intellectually, he knows he's not nearly as bad as he thinks he is. He'd handed in his resignation and they threatened his family, the same family that didn't even come to his funeral, sure. But his family all the same.

If someone came to him with that story, Terry would be quick to point out what an impossible situation that was. How there was no such thing as the 'right'choice. But it's the fact that he made the choice that keeps him up at night. That a father who never returned his calls and the vague promise of help for his mother meant more to him then the wellbeing of countless others.

The sound of the mug shattering jolts Terry out of the dark hallways of his mind. Something productive and helpful he can do instead of a solo pity party, and he hops off the counter to help Robbie clean up the pieces.

There's an almost-joke on the tip of his tongue, about facing Vance after playing monster. About how he's just the kind of guy who makes you want to be better and he doesn't even know it. But the joke dies on his lips and Terry sighs, looking down at the shards in his hand. There's a metaphor here, if he thinks about it.

"How about a deal? I don't pretend like I'm okay around you, and you don't bullshit me either." It's the most direct he's ever been with Robbie, but after this early-morning chat it's hardly as if Terry can sit behind a desk and be the healthy mind dispensing advice and trying to coax some honesty out of him.

Neither of them is okay, and it's becoming more obvious on Terry's part than he ever wanted it to.