meadowlarklogs | those who died are justified;

[ there's zero hesitation in reaching out to collect the corsage, or in slipping it on over her wrist. the black flower is a cool contrast to her bare skin, warm to the touch and dappled with soft sprays of freckles; she rolls her wrist from side to side in quiet admiration, as if showing it off to invisible spectators. good work, jay. ]

I wasn't judging, [ an off-handed dispute, but there's no bite to it. ] I did the whole reinvention thing, so I get it.

[ there's a pause, as daisy peers into the distance, squinting in order to read the signage on the groundtram station just up ahead. to the right it is. ]

Granted, the shitty name I got came from the foster system, and I wound up going back to my birth name once I found out what it was, but [ a shrug ] I get it. No judgment.

[ a pause, and then: ] I like Jay, though.

( trashy corsage finished, jason leans down to shove the roll of tape back into his pocket. pulls the zipper over it. for those just in case, stabbed-in-the-gut and needs to cover wounds fast needs. or emergency last minute flowers, who the hell knows. )

A foster system kid, huh. ( low, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth after a moment. ) I tried that for a bit. Didn't like it, so I stuck to the streets. Lot of assholes in the system who just wanted a free kid for labor, or for the state payoff.

( it's a quiet admittance: that he gets that side of the system, that he's been there, too. but. )

Little weird for them to change names though.

Yeah, it is. [ no disagreement on her part. ] It wasn't like they did it for every kid. They just didn't want my parents finding me. Or anybody, for that matter, who knew who I was. What I was.

[ an 0-8-4. an object of unknown origin, likely powerful or dangerous. she'd been born to a woman thought immortal and a man crazed and deranged by love and devotion; the world had only guessed at what she might have become. shield had thought they were doing the right thing by anonymizing her, moving her, bouncing her from home to home to avoid lingering or putting down roots or getting comfortable... only for her to come face-to-face with the reality of her past and all that it meant two and a half decades later. ]

They called me Mary Sue — Mary Sue Poots, as if that's not the worst name in history. [ she shakes her head, a quiet chuckle slipping past her lips. ] I called myself Skye first chance I got. Erased every memory, every database entry, anything I could to separate myself from that life, and spent god only knows how long trying to find any scrap of information I could about the people who gave me up. And then... I met them, and — well, they weren't exactly parents of the year, but they at least gave me a name. I figured I owed it to myself to claim what I'd been searching for, you know?

[ long winded? maybe. ]

Mary Sue Poots. ( there's a scoff at that, because it is definitely the worst name in the history of names. wow. what kind of kid wouldn't try and get rid of that? jason certainly would. another turn and they're boarding the groundtram. jason covers the fare, he's not hurting for cash right now even if he's not doing great after the whole. Incident. soon, he'll get himself a motorcycle. negate the need for pesky public transportation.

too bad soon isn't right now. )

I didn't get in the system until I was older, and I didn't stay in it very long. Houses I did get into were pretty shit though; hell, one of them was collecting a household of wayward boys to fund her extravagant lifestyle. Training us to be her little soldiers.

( but he sounds pretty nonchalant about it all, so. )

Foster system, eh? What can you do? ( but more importantly. ) What do you mean by what you were?

[ there's a pause, as they navigate the first tramcar; there are more people here, closest to the exit, since most passengers simply get on and sit down. daisy prefers to move a little further down — and since the next set of cars are more sparsely populated, they're a much better spot to stop, claiming a pair of seats that face towards the front of the tram. ]

I know here everybody's finding their weird party tricks, but back home... [ daisy shakes her head, hands smoothing out over her bare knees. ] Have you ever heard of the Kree?

[ some universes seem to be more similar than others, so maybe he has. she never really knows. ]

They came to Earth — probably, like, thousands of years ago, not yesterday or anything. They came to Earth, and they did experiments on people, putting their DNA in humans to see if they could force them to have superpowers. [ a soft huff under her breath signals how dumb daisy happens to think this all was. ] Turns out, the DNA sticks around, and it does give you superpowers. If you get exposed to the right alien rock dust.

( that's. interesting. the bit about alien dna, the powers being activated by alien dust. not completely unusual, and from jason's reaction it's obviously not out of the realm of possibilities for him. when you deal with new gods and all the shit he's seen back home. not even mentioning the asgardians and other weird shit he's seen since arriving here. )

Haven't heard of the Kree, no. But I can get where you're coming from. Sorry 'bout your DNA problems.

( because he seriously doubts anyone would like to find out they've got weird shit in their blood. hell, he doesn't like the chip in his head or the weird glowing shit in his chest at all. tried to remove the shit from his chest, even. too bad there wasn't anything there to take out. )

I'm assuming none of those superpowers work here?

They're not — problems.

[ the inclusion of kree-sourced dna is, technically, a departure from the traditional view of "healthy", but daisy doesn't want to think it of as a problem. it's part of her. she's had a long time to accept it. ]

It's just who I am. [ not 'mary sue poots', not 'skye', not 'quake'. she's daisy johnson, she's an inhuman, and she can handle this. ] Which I guess is kind of fucking me up a little bit, actually, since — no, I don't seem to have my superpowers here.

[ a soft, bitter laugh escapes her. ]

I mean, I have different ones. I can pull stuff apart, make it into something else, like... legos on steroids or something. But I really miss being able to fly.

[ it wasn't really flying, but she doesn't care. ]

Right, not problems. ( words that could be taken sarcastically, sure, but jason sounds genuine enough. everyone deals with life in different ways, they're at different walks, with different problems. does jason think some people's problems are fucking stupid? hell yes. would he discount someone saying something isn't a problem? nah.

a lot of his behaviors are problematic, but not shit he thinks are actually problems. just like jason is aware enough to realize that no, it isn't the same for everyone. that he is an outlier in that regard. doesn't quite fit into the norm. )

Never been able to fly myself, but I have had a jetpack. It was pretty swell. But here's a whole different ballgame. ( an agreement of sorts, even if it's veiled a little. . oddly. ) Powers or no, you'll get it.

Jetpacks are cool, [ hummed offhandedly, a mental note to bring it up when she gets home. there's someone who might like the knowledge that they've become common enough to belong to people other than the mega-rich in dubai. ] Kind of niche rich dude territory where I'm from, but still. Cool.

[ too bad he couldn't pull a jetpack from the glowy thing in his chest. ]

Can I hit you up sometime for more info on that, by the way? My friend — Fitz, he's an engineer — has been trying to figure out ways to replicate some of the stuff from home. Can't get my powers back, but a jetpack's not a bad alternative.

Kind of a niche territory where I come from, too. ( considering jason still had access to the wallet of bruce wayne, rich guy territories were never really out of reach. and then here's the, you know. blood money he's stolen from penguin, black mask. . everyone in between. . .

but his attention shifts from that onto fitz. he knows that dude. knows him well. ) Couldn't tell you much about how it was built, honestly. I know a decent amount about how to put shit together, but the jetpack was built by a friend of mine who is much, much smarter than I am.

( more importantly: ) You're friends with Fitz, huh? Did you tell him we were hanging out?

Edited 2018-12-10 19:50 (UTC)

[ her brow goes up — she hadn't expected the recognition, but then, the man in question has been particularly busy lately. establishing connections, going to events, making a name for himself both in person and online. the spy life, as it were. ]

I didn't ask his permission, if that's what you're asking me. [ she has the grace to look bemused at the idea, rather than offended. as if he would — or could, for that matter. ] But yeah, we're friends.

[ there's a brief pause, and daisy amends her statement. ] Well. He's more than just a friend, I guess.

[ best friend. ride-or-die. she doesn't mean to imply anything beyond the found-family variety of loyalty, but she's not correcting the assumptions either. ]

Do you have beef with Fitz or something?

( more than just friends gets a funny little lift to the corner of his lips. that's curious. but jason doesn't press it. when the groundtram nears their destination, jason wraps an arm around her, more for appearances sake than anything else, and starts leading her towards the doors. )

He's fun to tease. Wouldn't call us enemies or anything like that, but I like playing with him.

( there is nothing overly harsh in jason's tone, though; he says it soft, like one would discuss teasing a sibling or something. )

Asked him for selfies and he refused to send 'em, even to this day.

[ there's an idle moment, when jason's arm wraps around her, where all daisy can think is warm. there's not enough skin-to-skin to generate the empathy bond with the touch, but there's certainly enough heat to be noticable. she's not surprised. he does seem the type to run hot... maybe in more ways than one.

as they step over the threshold of the car and move out towards the street, daisy offers a soft hum of agreement. ] You're not wrong. [ he's too easy to tease. see: her consistent torture of the boy on every network post #teamshield makes. ]

But if it's photos you're after, you should have just said so.

[ she has plenty of those. forced selfies, casual unstaged shots, pictures of fitz looking a little annoyed at being the focus of the photo for the umpteenth time. ]

( he runs a little warmer than most, but jason is overly cautious to avoid any skin-on-skin contact. makes sure that absolutely nothing bare is close enough to brush against her even as he holds onto daisy. it's a bit backwards, isn't it? being willing to touch someone but not willing to touch them. but no one needs to know how fucked up he is under the surface. the never ending rage that lingers right below the stupid smirk he almost always keeps at his lips. )

I wanted to see his face. Know what the guy looks like, just in case I had the chance to run into him in public.

( with a click of his tongue, eyes looking down at her with an almost playful gleam. ) Maybe we should send him some of our own.

( she knows his face already, there is no point in hiding. )

Are you testing my selfie game, Mr Malone?

[ there's no hesitation in her grin right back. after all, it's just a picture. in public, no less. it's not like he's asking her to bare her body for some questionable payouts at a shady underground art school. (don't ask, it was a one-time thing when she was eighteen and desperately needing money.) ]

Because I should warn you. I am totally a selfie master. Come at me, bro, et cetera.

[ so stupid. ]

( cute. she's cute. and open, willing to share bits and pieces about herself; what she can do, who and what she is. it's not shit jason would share if he was given the option, but he respects people who do. means she doesn't have shit to hide, doesn't it. )

Think Fitz would be upset? You, taking selfies with other guys.

( there's a tsk as he slouches down a little, closer. puts himself more on her level without actually bending over for it. )

[ he's catching her on a good year. coming to terms with it — her identity, her powers, her family history; everything that makes daisy johnson come alive — has been a long road, and it's only lately that she's been able to so freely share those pieces of herself.

as for fitz and his jealousy issues? daisy just snickers, shaking her head. ]

It'll probably just make him beg for a play-by-play. [ of what.... riding the tram.... ??? ] He's not really the 50 Shades, possessive type.

[ the doctor, though? maybe. don't @ her. ]

You want to do the honors?

You got it. ( fitz isn't the jealous sort, good to know. he'll have to find other shit to use against one dick grayson if it's not that. he pauses for a moment, before ducking down just a bit more and leaning in to hover lips just above her cheek--not quite touching but someone looking at a far away image wouldn't be able to tell. makes sure they're both turned to one of the reflective surfaces outside the tram and takes the shot.

grins as he straightens himself all the way back up, finally. and sends the shot to daisy, too. )

Good enough?

Perfect.

[ there's a brief moment of pause as daisy fiddles with her own collection, humming under her breath; after a delay, she forwards something in return to him. taken by bobbi, shortly after her return from her self-imposed exile. ]

He's cute, huh? Even when he makes that face.

He's pulling that science nerd look off well.

( fitz: a cute nerd. jason saves the picture for later, just in case. it shows him fitz's face, if he ever needs to find him in a crowded area it'll be a bit easier, despite the fuzziness to the image itself. )

those who died are justified;

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