Mick's half expecting Caitlin to not come ever, so it takes him a second to get to the door, but when he does he opens it without question. The cabin is nice and quiet, but there is a fire burning on the fireplace, a book on the table couches as well as Mick's glasses. And a beer, always a beer.
Out of curiosity, she peers past him into the cabin. It's ... warm. It's so
delightfully warm, and now that she's here she knows there was no reason to
suspect anything different. "I thought we could talk," she says levelly.
"About that arrangement. If you're still interested."
He nods, stepping back and letting her in now that he sees the way she is looking at the cabin and the fire. "After you warm up maybe?" He waits until she's inside before he closes the door and then walks over to fetch a cup of coffee for her, even if it is a few hours old at this point he suspects she needs the warmth more than anything else.
"Thank you," she says, accepting the cup graciously. It's hard not to just
leech the heat right out of it, but she takes a sip and lets it warm her
from the inside, which should, in theory, be better for her than just
soaking it all up before she gets a chance to drink it. Hesitantly, she
moves towards the fire, hoping that it's alright for her to sit near it,
and that she won't ruin it. But even the ambient heat feels good, like
something she can just take in slowly, even if it still doesn't feel like
it's quite enough. "This is ... nice," she says. "Better than I thought it
would be. No offense."
Mick comes over and moves his stuff so that she can settle closest to the fire. Then he grabs a mug of coffee for himself and goes to sit down, watching her carefully. "I wasn't going to live in a burnt out cabin. So I asked the admiral for a new one, got the maintenance crew to make the fireplace and picked up the rest of the stuff various places. What were you expecting?"
"I ... don't know," Caitlin admits. "I guess I thought it would be less ...
lived in?" It's still not quite the word she's looking for. It wasn't like
this when the barge was playing musical chairs with all their cabins, but
none of that actually matters now. "I think it means I misjudged you," she
adds, a little more quietly. It's not just the cabin that reflects that,
either, but she can't quite put her finger on what else it is. Maybe the
fact that he'd actually tried to stop her. Or the fact that he wants to be
better than he used to be. "I didn't give you the benefit of the doubt. I
... assumed you hadn't changed, and that everything here was all backwards,
because I thought I shouldn't be an inmate. I'm ... sorry for that, too."
He chuckles darkly. "And you didn't think I should be a warden. You are not entirely wrong you are certainly not alone there. Even Len thought I shouldn't me. He kept telling me if I fucked up and got demoted he'd be pissed."
He shrugs. "It's ... nicer than anything else I've had, but it is nice. I like having the kitchen and the fireplace."
"Well, you're ... friends," she says, curling in on herself a little more
as she wraps her hands around the mug, and pulls in the remaining heat.
"Friends want each other to do well." She's not fully certain that was the
extent of their relationship, but she's not one to ask for details, either.
"You must miss him, huh?"
Mick grits his teeth and looks at the fire. He doesn't like talking about feelings. "We're partners for thirty years. Yeah, I miss him. He's dead when I am from." He takes a deep breath.
"I know." It's brief, gentle, maybe even a little understanding. She's lost
someone twice, too, after all, but ... no, she's not going to push this.
It's not what she came here to talk about. She sits up a little taller,
regarding him with a sort of sideways glance; in a way, her whole demeanor
changes, even though her physical appearance stays the same. "You still
wanna burn things?" she asks, and it's as casual as asking someone if they
want to get coffee.
He looks over at her straight away, sitting up a little. "Yeah, always. You want to go see if the Enclosure is free?"
He downs the rest of the coffee and then gets up to his jacket, no longer using his owld fireman's jacket, uninstead a lighter leather one. "You're good to get the way there."
She notes the way that he changes, too, like he thinks this is
definitely a lot more interesting than sitting around verging dangerously
close to actually opening up to one another, and for once, she has to agree
with him. She's pretty sure that he doesn't still have the old flame gun,
but she's also not sure whether he's got his own powers, now - probably
not, right? - so she figures she'll find out how he wants this whole thing
to go down once they actually get to the Enclosure. Once there, she hangs
back so he can both open the door and program it to his liking. "I don't
mind where you take us," she says, and then, with a soft laugh, adds, "I
don't know if holographic fire is going to do the trick, but I guess we'll
find out."
"We'll see. As far as I know bullets in the Enclosure can still kill you so why shouldn't fire work the same way." He digs out a black bag from under his workbench. Inside it is a collection of guns as well as a whole host of fire setting tools. "What kind of fire do you like, fast and hot or slow and low?"
It's an impressive array of equipment, and sure, there's a part of her
that's still scared, in a way, still worried about what Mick - specifically
- could do to her. But she also knows that she can control her powers, now
- she has powers, now - and that means she's safe. As safe as her
own control, anyway, and as safe as the Enclosure and Mick will allow.
"Let's try something slow, first," she suggests. "I'm still only at
twenty-five percent of my normal power levels. Scott didn't think to give
back any more before he took off - I mean, before he vanished." That's
important, she reminds herself. He didn't leave on purpose.
Mick nods and then picks out a handful of tools. "The Enclosure should be able to give us fuel for the fire." He packs them into a smaller bag, slings it over his shoulder and then goes to grab his beer before he heads for the door. "Have you gotten a new warden?" He starts walking towards the Enclosure.
"Not a permanent one," she explains. "Barnes, last month. And yes, I went
easy on him," she adds, with a little smile, as she recalls the
conversation that they'd had after the assignments had gone up. "Buffy
Summers, this month. Apparently no relation to Scott or Hope. She's ...
good." She actually talked to Caitlin, for one thing, and she didn't seem
too judgmental, and Caitlin might wind up with an acquaintance out of the
match. "But I don't know if that's what I need to help me graduate. Would
still be nice if we had some ... I don't know, course requirements, so I
could tick off the boxes and finish it."
"Good. I'd say go easy on her too She's a good kid." He likes Buffy, she is easy going and nice to hang out with.
"I know what you mean, it is just as frustrating for us, being told it is our job to help you and then have no idea or direction for how to do that." He shakes his head as he opens the door to the enclosure. Inside, he goes over to the panel and starts fiddling with it. Soon enough the enclosure is transformed into a large flat field, the cut stalks of what was probably some sort of grain left. Judging by the area around the field they are somewhere not far from Central City and there is an old burnt out house at the far end of the field. In the middle of the field, there is a pile of old dry wood. Mick grins as he walks over to the pile rearranging it a little for the right kind of fire.
The field itself isn't a place that Caitlin knows, but it isn't entirely
alien, either. "Scott seemed to know," she says, stepping in close beside
Mick as he sets up the kindling. "I know I thought for sure he'd give my
full powers back, after hearing him talk about what powers meant to him,
and the people on his Earth. But he didn't, and it was probably the right
call at the time. It's probably just a matter of finding a good match. Um
... what about you? You had any luck in the whole ... random inmate thing?"
"That he did." Mick smiles a little, something a little sad about it. He had had conflicted feelings about Scott and still does. And about the fact that Len had gone back to him. Chosen a life with him over coming back alive to Mick.
"Temporary never really worked out for me. One of my first ones cursed me so I almost killed Len. Didn't exactly set things up good. Though things are not so bad with Freeza now that he is permanent. A lot of inmates see their temporary wardens as useless. A lot of wardens get burnt by that so they step back. And that way the inmates are proven right."
As he talks he feeds the fire until it is nice and big. It draws more and of his attention. He smiles slightly when he is happy with how it looks. He'd gladly spend hours here watching it burn, but that is not why they are here. He allows himself a few moments longer then he steps back. "All yours."
"Well, it's not like you ever would have complained about being burned," she points out, amused at his choice of words, but noting that even the metaphorical burning probably doesn't bother Mick too much, either. He's got thick skin, as far as she's seen. "Congrats on getting a permanent one, though. I don't think I've met him - is that just his name, or is he ... you know." She holds up a hand to show off a little flourish of flurries, wondering if she's not the only cryokinetic on board anymore.
She takes a few moments, too - and there's something about this that doesn't feel all that bad, all told, standing here and watching the fire burning. The heat's as big and bright as the fire itself, and she can practically feel it soaking into her skin, recharging her power, energizing her. She feels ... alive as crazy as that sounds. It's like integrating with Killer Frost has given her a whole new kind of need, one that's just as necessary as hunger or thirst. She's hesitant to just end it, but it calls out to her - probably the same way that other things call out to Mick to be burned.
With a hand extended towards the flame, she steps in closer, slow, but really not that careful; with her hand just inches from it she closes her eyes and pulls all of that delicious heat in - it looks for all the world like she's blasting it with cold, but that isn't the way it works - and she leaves the kindling looking cold and dead, frozen solid in a thick sheet of ice. She turns back to Mick with a big, broad grin, looking much more like Frost than Caitlin in that moment. "That was perfect," she says, a little breathlessly. "Let's do it again."
"Well... there is being burnt and then there is ..." He trails off looking at the fire. "No. He is not human but no ice powers. Chi or something like that actually."
He watches her pull the heat in, for a brief moment he is reminded of being the target of that, and then of Len with his cold gun. Fuck he misses him. He hadn't thought he'd miss him so much. And isn't that a fucking perfect image, the fire being left dead and cold and covered in ice. That being said, that broad grin, the way she moves now, how much more alive she looks, she's hot as hell and for a moment he just stares at her. Then he nods.
"Sure. Let me go get some more wood." Turning his back to her and heading over towards the house. At least this way he is going to get a few moments to collect his thoughts. He gathers a big handful of half burnt pieces of house before he heads back to her. "Did it help?"
While he's gone, she flexes her fingers in front of herself and closes her
eyes, just to see how in tune she is with the ambient temperatures in the
area, if she can make a kind of mental map based on the heat sources she
can actually still feel. Mick's is still strong - it feels to her like he
runs a little warmer than most people, but that makes a certain amount of
sense. It also means it's easier to feel him approaching, and she opens her
eyes and looks to him, drawing her hand back in. "Yeah," she replies, and
her lips turn up in a half-grin. "How was it for you?"
He laughs at that. "I haven't been asked that in decades." Usually, because the people he sleeps with knows him well enough and honestly it is a question mostly for the bedroom. He piles the wood into the fire. "Not bad, could have been bigger but beggars can't be choosers, can they. And it is not the same in here. It just feels different."
"You're the one who wanted to do it in here," she points out. And she gets
it, she does; this environment is much more easily controlled, and they
don't have to damage any part of the ship to gain fuel for the fire. But
she can also tell that it isn't quite doing it for him in the way that he'd
hoped, and that defeats the whole purpose of this exercise. "I'm not saying
you've gotta besmirch the library again, but there's probably
somewhere on board people don't usually go, that they won't mind if
it gets a little singed. An empty cabin, maybe." She shrugs; it had worked
out well enough when that pyrokinetic who looked like Steve showed up for a
hot minute. "Hey, if you want it to be bigger you won't hear me
complaining. Go for it."
He glances at her and shakes his head. "Nah, if I do that, Lark is never going to give me the flame gun back." This place might not be doing it for him quite the right way but on the other hand, he has to play nice. But he does grin when she urges him to go bigger and nods, going back to the panel to tweak a few things before a massive pile of wood appears before them. The smell of lighter fluid heavy in the air. Big it is then. "You might want to take a step back here." He picks up a piece of paper, taking a step back before he pulls out his lighter and tosses it into the pile of wood.
The whole thing roars as the flames explode out from it. The lighter fluid certainly has done its job. Mick watches it all with a rapt look on his face.
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"Caitlin. What is up?"
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Out of curiosity, she peers past him into the cabin. It's ... warm. It's so delightfully warm, and now that she's here she knows there was no reason to suspect anything different. "I thought we could talk," she says levelly. "About that arrangement. If you're still interested."
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"Thank you," she says, accepting the cup graciously. It's hard not to just leech the heat right out of it, but she takes a sip and lets it warm her from the inside, which should, in theory, be better for her than just soaking it all up before she gets a chance to drink it. Hesitantly, she moves towards the fire, hoping that it's alright for her to sit near it, and that she won't ruin it. But even the ambient heat feels good, like something she can just take in slowly, even if it still doesn't feel like it's quite enough. "This is ... nice," she says. "Better than I thought it would be. No offense."
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"I ... don't know," Caitlin admits. "I guess I thought it would be less ... lived in?" It's still not quite the word she's looking for. It wasn't like this when the barge was playing musical chairs with all their cabins, but none of that actually matters now. "I think it means I misjudged you," she adds, a little more quietly. It's not just the cabin that reflects that, either, but she can't quite put her finger on what else it is. Maybe the fact that he'd actually tried to stop her. Or the fact that he wants to be better than he used to be. "I didn't give you the benefit of the doubt. I ... assumed you hadn't changed, and that everything here was all backwards, because I thought I shouldn't be an inmate. I'm ... sorry for that, too."
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He shrugs. "It's ... nicer than anything else I've had, but it is nice. I like having the kitchen and the fireplace."
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"Well, you're ... friends," she says, curling in on herself a little more as she wraps her hands around the mug, and pulls in the remaining heat. "Friends want each other to do well." She's not fully certain that was the extent of their relationship, but she's not one to ask for details, either. "You must miss him, huh?"
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"I know." It's brief, gentle, maybe even a little understanding. She's lost someone twice, too, after all, but ... no, she's not going to push this. It's not what she came here to talk about. She sits up a little taller, regarding him with a sort of sideways glance; in a way, her whole demeanor changes, even though her physical appearance stays the same. "You still wanna burn things?" she asks, and it's as casual as asking someone if they want to get coffee.
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He downs the rest of the coffee and then gets up to his jacket, no longer using his owld fireman's jacket, uninstead a lighter leather one. "You're good to get the way there."
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She notes the way that he changes, too, like he thinks this is definitely a lot more interesting than sitting around verging dangerously close to actually opening up to one another, and for once, she has to agree with him. She's pretty sure that he doesn't still have the old flame gun, but she's also not sure whether he's got his own powers, now - probably not, right? - so she figures she'll find out how he wants this whole thing to go down once they actually get to the Enclosure. Once there, she hangs back so he can both open the door and program it to his liking. "I don't mind where you take us," she says, and then, with a soft laugh, adds, "I don't know if holographic fire is going to do the trick, but I guess we'll find out."
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It's an impressive array of equipment, and sure, there's a part of her that's still scared, in a way, still worried about what Mick - specifically - could do to her. But she also knows that she can control her powers, now - she has powers, now - and that means she's safe. As safe as her own control, anyway, and as safe as the Enclosure and Mick will allow. "Let's try something slow, first," she suggests. "I'm still only at twenty-five percent of my normal power levels. Scott didn't think to give back any more before he took off - I mean, before he vanished." That's important, she reminds herself. He didn't leave on purpose.
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"Not a permanent one," she explains. "Barnes, last month. And yes, I went easy on him," she adds, with a little smile, as she recalls the conversation that they'd had after the assignments had gone up. "Buffy Summers, this month. Apparently no relation to Scott or Hope. She's ... good." She actually talked to Caitlin, for one thing, and she didn't seem too judgmental, and Caitlin might wind up with an acquaintance out of the match. "But I don't know if that's what I need to help me graduate. Would still be nice if we had some ... I don't know, course requirements, so I could tick off the boxes and finish it."
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"I know what you mean, it is just as frustrating for us, being told it is our job to help you and then have no idea or direction for how to do that." He shakes his head as he opens the door to the enclosure. Inside, he goes over to the panel and starts fiddling with it. Soon enough the enclosure is transformed into a large flat field, the cut stalks of what was probably some sort of grain left. Judging by the area around the field they are somewhere not far from Central City and there is an old burnt out house at the far end of the field. In the middle of the field, there is a pile of old dry wood. Mick grins as he walks over to the pile rearranging it a little for the right kind of fire.
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The field itself isn't a place that Caitlin knows, but it isn't entirely alien, either. "Scott seemed to know," she says, stepping in close beside Mick as he sets up the kindling. "I know I thought for sure he'd give my full powers back, after hearing him talk about what powers meant to him, and the people on his Earth. But he didn't, and it was probably the right call at the time. It's probably just a matter of finding a good match. Um ... what about you? You had any luck in the whole ... random inmate thing?"
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"That he did." Mick smiles a little, something a little sad about it. He had had conflicted feelings about Scott and still does. And about the fact that Len had gone back to him. Chosen a life with him over coming back alive to Mick.
"Temporary never really worked out for me. One of my first ones cursed me so I almost killed Len. Didn't exactly set things up good. Though things are not so bad with Freeza now that he is permanent. A lot of inmates see their temporary wardens as useless. A lot of wardens get burnt by that so they step back. And that way the inmates are proven right."
As he talks he feeds the fire until it is nice and big. It draws more and of his attention. He smiles slightly when he is happy with how it looks. He'd gladly spend hours here watching it burn, but that is not why they are here. He allows himself a few moments longer then he steps back. "All yours."
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"Well, it's not like you ever would have complained about being burned," she points out, amused at his choice of words, but noting that even the metaphorical burning probably doesn't bother Mick too much, either. He's got thick skin, as far as she's seen. "Congrats on getting a permanent one, though. I don't think I've met him - is that just his name, or is he ... you know." She holds up a hand to show off a little flourish of flurries, wondering if she's not the only cryokinetic on board anymore.
She takes a few moments, too - and there's something about this that doesn't feel all that bad, all told, standing here and watching the fire burning. The heat's as big and bright as the fire itself, and she can practically feel it soaking into her skin, recharging her power, energizing her. She feels ... alive as crazy as that sounds. It's like integrating with Killer Frost has given her a whole new kind of need, one that's just as necessary as hunger or thirst. She's hesitant to just end it, but it calls out to her - probably the same way that other things call out to Mick to be burned.
With a hand extended towards the flame, she steps in closer, slow, but really not that careful; with her hand just inches from it she closes her eyes and pulls all of that delicious heat in - it looks for all the world like she's blasting it with cold, but that isn't the way it works - and she leaves the kindling looking cold and dead, frozen solid in a thick sheet of ice. She turns back to Mick with a big, broad grin, looking much more like Frost than Caitlin in that moment. "That was perfect," she says, a little breathlessly. "Let's do it again."
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He watches her pull the heat in, for a brief moment he is reminded of being the target of that, and then of Len with his cold gun. Fuck he misses him. He hadn't thought he'd miss him so much. And isn't that a fucking perfect image, the fire being left dead and cold and covered in ice. That being said, that broad grin, the way she moves now, how much more alive she looks, she's hot as hell and for a moment he just stares at her. Then he nods.
"Sure. Let me go get some more wood." Turning his back to her and heading over towards the house. At least this way he is going to get a few moments to collect his thoughts. He gathers a big handful of half burnt pieces of house before he heads back to her. "Did it help?"
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While he's gone, she flexes her fingers in front of herself and closes her eyes, just to see how in tune she is with the ambient temperatures in the area, if she can make a kind of mental map based on the heat sources she can actually still feel. Mick's is still strong - it feels to her like he runs a little warmer than most people, but that makes a certain amount of sense. It also means it's easier to feel him approaching, and she opens her eyes and looks to him, drawing her hand back in. "Yeah," she replies, and her lips turn up in a half-grin. "How was it for you?"
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"You're the one who wanted to do it in here," she points out. And she gets it, she does; this environment is much more easily controlled, and they don't have to damage any part of the ship to gain fuel for the fire. But she can also tell that it isn't quite doing it for him in the way that he'd hoped, and that defeats the whole purpose of this exercise. "I'm not saying you've gotta besmirch the library again, but there's probably somewhere on board people don't usually go, that they won't mind if it gets a little singed. An empty cabin, maybe." She shrugs; it had worked out well enough when that pyrokinetic who looked like Steve showed up for a hot minute. "Hey, if you want it to be bigger you won't hear me complaining. Go for it."
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The whole thing roars as the flames explode out from it. The lighter fluid certainly has done its job. Mick watches it all with a rapt look on his face.
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