Scene #8461: Catching Up With Petra

Owner	Pose
Timespace Riders	A few days have passed since the Meltdown with Malkuth. Petra was out--and different. It hadn't escaped the notice of Sougo Tokiwa, who had, at the moment, been just a little occupied-- "It has been a while, hasn't it?" Zi-O asks Petra, struggling with the Abnormality's strength. "You, umm..." She looks different. "...We should catch up sometime when there's not a disaster going on! Thanks for being here." As it happens, there is thankfully not one going on right now--not even any kaijin attacks on his home world. The would-be king has therefore decided to jump at the opportunity to catch up--to put some anxieties to rest, and to bury others. His choice of meeting place is a food truck which has set up near a popular pavillion which overlooks the ocean. It's a sunny day, bright blue and clear, with not a cloud to darken the beige white pavement or the treated teak tables. Mixed in with the susurrus of city life (distant cars, half-heard conversations carried on the breeze) there is the gentle roar of surf against the sea-wall, and the occasional cry of gulls. The truck itself is hot pink, with checkerboard trim along the bottom. Named simply 'Donut Shop Hungry,' the smallish truck is run by a brightly smiling blond woman who makes good use of the limited space, as does a decidedly more sullen man who works alongside her. A little signboard is set up outside displaying the menu--and she seems to have taken great care to draw attention to literally anything but the plain sugar donuts. It seems to have worked for Sougo and Woz, at least. The would-be king, dressed in a pink button up and rolled khakis that highlight his red socks and his hiking boots, has gotten a 'banana fruity donut' and Woz (dressed the same as always) has gotten a 'fairy purple donut.' The size of the donuts is fairly generous for the asking price.
Petra Soroka	As it happens, there is thankfully not a disaster going on right now-- Not one going on for Sougo. Petra, however, is-- Actually also doing pretty much alright. For once. She's still working through her onboarding materials for becoming a Lobotomy Corporation agent herself, after working with Angela to help Malkuth and, more importantly, Lilian. She's taking steps to actually get a place to stay, once she has income, and can imagine a near future where she isn't forced to eat half of every cigarette she buys. Over the past week, Petra has fallen into a sort of dazed listlessness, though not an entirely negative one. Not having a specific goal to work towards, for the first time since... when she decided to start her rivalry with Lilian, leaves an uncomfortable void in her, especially with how quiet the radio is without access to the Watch channels. She feels expected to do something, without any idea of what it is. Jumping at whatever requests or conversations that Lilian, Angela, or Xion make fills it temporarily, and anger towards everyone else gives her something to do, but it all only ever lasts a brief moment. Sougo is neither someone she cares to do tasks for, nor someone she feels like she can be angry at. But Petra shows up anyways, eyes dully antagonistic, shoulders slouched forwards, every inch of skin below her face covered. As normal as she's ever looked, besides the telltale Silver that Sougo already knows to look for. Having walked the whole distance here from the Warpgate, Petra pulls a few crumpled bills out of her pockets to pass through the window of the food truck. She comes over to the table clutching a simple maple glazed donut, barely a step up from the plain one, and then sits on the opposite side of the table from the pair. "Hey." With a two-handed grip and plenty of napkins to shield her hands from the sticky glaze, Petra takes a small bite of the donut, eyes locked on a knot in the wood of the table.
Timespace Riders	"Um, hey," says Sougo softly to Petra. His small smile persists like a storm-tossed ship, even as Petra bores a hole into the knot on the table. "I'm glad you could make it," he says genuinely. "And... I'm glad that you were there to help with Malkuth. A... I really don't like the script that he's written. Angela told me that I wouldn't be able to save everyone... but I still have to try.". Sougo swallows uncomfortably. Woz sighs through his nose, pausing in his chaste nibbling to do so. "I've been trying really hard to help her, lately. To help lots of people inside the company. But... the way A has things set up, it feels like I can barely budge things an inch in the right direction." His eyes stare down at his banana donut, powdered-sugar dusted over slices of fresh fruit nestled comfortably over a flavored glaze. "So, it's good that Angela can count on you, too." There's a brief, awkward pause, during which Sougo takes a bite of his donut, for lack of anything better to do. It's after this that he gently prods, brown eyes leveled at her in preparation for contact with hers--"How have you been, lately?" He wants to ask about the Silver, but...
Petra Soroka	"Mmm." Petra hums, in response to Sougo's warm greeting, eyes still not raising to his. "Well. Maybe the script has a point. Maybe not all of them are worth saving, if saving them makes things harder for the people that actually matter." Despite Petra's hunched, mouselike posture and seeming reluctance to even be here, she polishes off the donut in record time. It takes barely a minute from sitting down, before she's sullenly wiping her mouth with napkins and adding them to the crumpled up pile she made. "I don't actually trust that you have her best interests at heart, if I'm being honest. I don't really trust any of you, all the rest, to do better for her than you all did for Lilian. So that's what I'm there for." She sighs, crossing her arms on the table and lowering her chin down to rest on top of them. "I guess you're a bit more tolerable than the rest, at least." Petra's eyes flick up from the lowered position, steely mechanical grey pupils settling on Sougo for the first time since she arrived, half-lidded in a passive glare. "How have I been? Since last time we talked I murdered Ishirou and got-- got thrown in solitary confinement for months, and-- yeah." She tries to snort, but it comes out as a short derisive hum. "Who cares."
Timespace Riders	I don't actually trust that you have her best interests at heart. "That's okay, Petra." A person really shouldn't be okay with hearing something like that, should they? But for some reason, Sougo is--or, at the very least, is very good at pretending he is. It is almost rote--practiced. The brief downward flick of his eyes does not go unnoticed by Woz. The retainer's donut is put down as briskly as one can without injuring it--it's almost as if he wishes there were a plate to clink against the table, that his displeasure might be made more apparant. "You have made your regard for virtually everyone who is not Lilian, Xion, or Angela abundantly clear," he says icily. "To Kukuru, especially." "Woz," Sougo chides sternly, looking at the retainer, making eye contact, and shaking his head. The retainer relents, but not without his lips pursed in clear annoyance. Since last time we talked I murdered Ishirou and got-- got thrown in solitary confinement for months, and-- yeah. Who cares. Sougo looks like he's shrinking away from being struck--his hands slide from the table to rest awkwardly in his lap, while he contemplates the ground. "I'm sorry," he says weakly. The rest of the apology--'that I didn't do more, that I didn't stop you, that I wasn't there for you' is an unbearable knot in his stomach. "Did... you look different from before. How did that happen? If it's okay to ask."
Petra Soroka	"You have made your regard for virtually everyone who is not Lilian, Xion, or Angela abundantly clear," Petra's eyes smoothly slide over to Woz, her glare unchanged. "Then I'm glad we're on the same page." She shifts her arms around, propping her elbow on the table and lifting her head to rest her cheek on her hand. "I don't have anything in particular against Kukuru. If anything, I think she's a step better than most, like Sougo." Not mentioning Woz, despite looking directly at him. "That's just not good enough." "Did... you look different from before. How did that happen? If it's okay to ask." "So it's that, huh? You asked me out here out of curiosity, because I'm all fucked up now?" Petra finally sits up fully, pulling away to distance herself from Sougo in front of her. She crosses her arms in front of her chest, shoulders slanted to the side, and her mouth twitches. "Or, worse. Is it because you want to help? Because that is worse, you know."
Timespace Riders	That's just not good enough. "Please." Woz scoffs. "Your judgment is as faulty as it was before prison, if not worse." The retainer doesn't make eye contact with her--not directly. Instead, he looks down his nose at her, as he is so fond of doing with people he deems unworthy. "At least it is possible for someone to meet my standards, exacting as they are. Anyone beyond the clade you've invited yourself into will never pass muster--doing so would defeat the point." He smiles mirthlessly, gesturing with a swept palm to the pavillion around them, as if to illustrate the breadth of Petra's disdain for others. "If they could, then you would have less targets at which to hurl insults. Less people to hold yourself over as superior. There is no world in which neither Kukuru nor my Demon King are 'good enough.' The very notion that you, reeking of cigarettes, loathing and regret, could ever pass judgment on the two of them--is farcical, and not even laughable in its farce. Find new material, jester." You asked me here out of curiosity, because I'm all fucked up now? Or, worse, is it because you want to help? Because that is worse, you know. "No, I don't know," says Sougo finally managing to speak up. "Because that's wrong. I won't live in a world where it's true," he says simply.
Petra Soroka	"Do you think it's fucking arbitrary, the people that I care about? I didn't even fucking know who Angela was before a couple weeks ago. There was a world where you could've been good enough." Petra pointedly slides a cigarette out of her pocket and lights it, inhaling for an annoyingly long pause. "You missed it. It's too late. And none of you have been worth a second chance so far." "Fucking-- invited myself into?" Belatedly absorbing Woz's phrasing, Petra snaps to her feet, slamming her hands into the table to lean right up close to him. The thin wisps of smoke coming out of her mouth are tar-black, rather than the expected grey, thick and grimy like out of a smokestack. "Take that back, you piece of shit. Don't you dare fucking say that." Smoke intentionally curls directly into Woz's face, as acrid as her tone. Petra can't even muster up the focus to phrase her words in any way but blank rejection, raspy and unstable. "You don't get to say that. Take it back or I'll show you how good my fucking material is." Sougo's dreams of a better world are, of course, ignored.
Timespace Riders	Woz stares into Petra's eyes, his mirthless smile gone, replaced with naked contempt. "Thank you for proving my point, urchin. The bonds you have forged are not arbitrary--yet you feel you are allowed to freely demean the people I care for. As usual, you are mistaken." Woz stands up from his seat, brushing the smoke away with a contemptous flick of his wrist--and procuring the Beyondriver. The Woz Miridewatch is clutched firmly in the opposite hand. "I do not take orders from you. And since you seem to enjoy being humiliated--" "You take them from me." Sougo says quietly, head down. Woz is so surprised that he furrows his brow, glancing at the still-seated Sougo. "...hah?" asks the retainer dumbly, confusion written on his face. "You take orders from me. And I order you to apologize." Irritation flicks across Woz's features, present most visibly in the brief but obvious sneer. "As you wish, sire." Turning to face Petra, he places his right hand over his heart and bows, taking a knee before her. "Please accept my apology for belittling the friendships you have made, and for my remarks about your habits." Sougo sighs, standing up as well, and putting a hand on the retainer's shoulder. "Please just... go home, for now, and work on finding what I asked about. Okay?" Woz purses his lips, head still bowed. "At once, my lord." The retainer stands up, tucking the Driver and the Miridewatch away in his coat. His eyes turn awkwardly away from her as he reaches for his scarf to make a sullen departure. "I have a question for you, Petra," says Sougo quietly, forcing himself to look at her. "How many second chances did you get?"
Petra Soroka	Petra can't help it. She smirks, catlike, at Woz when he kneels, tilting her head just a little so it isn't blatantly visible to Sougo. Silver drips from her fingers to the ground, and she opens them up from her clenched fist to pluck the cigarette from her mouth, exhaling above Woz's head. She doesn't rub it in with 'Apology accepted'. She also, however, doesn't release her other fist, the table splintering a little where she grabs its edge. Once Woz is gone, Petra leans back against the table, not returning to sit on the bench. She tilts her head over her shoulder to look back at Sougo without turning to face him. "Too fucking many. I didn't deserve a single one. And every time someone gave me one, all it did was make me worse. When someone tells you who they are, listen the first time." Petra's cigarette crumbles into fine white powder, visibly different from ash. She flicks her fingers, and it disintegrates into a puff in the air. "I keep saying. If someone like me comes around again, I'm killing her. Lilian doesn't deserve that, and honestly, even the rest of you don't." "If I was never given any chances right from the start, I would either be dead or better. Either way, everyone would be happier. So don't try to guilt me into offering you all second chances, when I fucking hate what you gave me."
Timespace Riders	It isn't often that Sougo can't at least hide what he's feeling behind a smile. This is one of those times. Sougo, the boy who wants to give everyone in the world second and third and fourth chances, is looking right at someone who loathes each one she got. Well--not looking right at her, anymore. He's staring numbly at his hiking boots, hands hanging limply at his sides. "But," he says, weakly. Weakly, he says it, through a nervous, breathless, pleading-with-himself chuckle. "There's got to be someone who deserves that, somewhere, right? It can't just be that... you mess up once, and that's the person you are, forever." Despair creeps into his voice, towards the end--it wavers.
Petra Soroka	"Let me know when you find one." Petra turns her head to face forwards again, looking out of the pavilion. "I haven't." She's silent for a few seconds, then pushes off the table, turning around with both of her hands thrust in her pockets. She walks a half-circle around the table, taking the long way around to get closer to Sougo, standing on the same side of the bench. "I spent weeks reaching out to people who were supposed to be her friend. People who she agreed were her friends, people who claimed to be her friends, and who'd consistently let her down over months and months and months. I tried to reach out to them, to give them a second-third-fourth fucking chance, to be the absolute minimum level of decent, when she needed them. After weeks of that, I finally get a message from her, snuck through the restraining order, and she doesn't even have a clue that I'd done anything. Not a single one of them changed, not a single one reached out to her." Petra doesn't look at Sougo, despite standing next to him. Her eyes are on the pile of napkins, fluttering in the wind and threatening to become litter. "The only people who deserve second chances less than me are everyone else. Second chances just delay the inevitable. They draw out the hurt. If people want to change, they'll do it whether they're given a chance or not, because they have to believe it's worth fighting for."
Timespace Riders	Sougo watches Petra circle around the table with a mix of desperation and fear--at once hoping for some sort of line to be thrown his way, and worried that a great, heavy weight will be attached to it, promising to drag him further down. She might not be looking at him, but he hangs on her every word and motion. Second chances just delay the inevitable. Cold dread washes over him, and he feels the knot in his stomach drop to the bottom of the ocean. "Why would anyone ever believe it's worth fighting for," he asks tearily, his tenor voice walking a tremulous tightrope in the soft, upper register, "If they have to do the fighting completely alone? If the people around them write them off no matter what!?" His hands ball into fists. "That's--that has to be wrong!" But he can't argue with what she told him about Lilian. It gnaws at him with every second that passes--was there really no one who even tried? What if Petra's right? "It's not... it's not inevitable. It can't be," he chokes, releasing his clenched fists. "I... I have to go." Sougo turns and leaves. His donut stays on the table, half-eaten, and he purposefully picks up his pace to avoid the questioning glance from the woman running the food truck.
Petra Soroka	Petra watches Sougo flee, expression flat and silent. She doesn't bother getting any cutting last words in-- mostly because she can't think of any, feeling drained from the effort she's already put into converting conceptual feelings into words, like a weight sits between where her lungs should be, weighing down her absent diaphragm. Partly because, when looking at the Demon King as he breaks down in front of her, she can't even summon up any feelings to direct at him. She doesn't feel angry enough at him to particularly want to cut in further; she doesn't feel vindicated by him cracking under the pressure; she doesn't feel regret or sympathy, either. She just watches him go, eyes dull and steady-- no goodbye, either. Once Sougo is gone too, and Petra is alone at the table, her posture breaks, and she glances down at the half-eaten donut. Faint sensor impulses urge her to take it; hunger portrayed through pings and diagnostic data rather than her stomach aching. She doesn't. That's gross.