entranceway | [Voice

[He shrugs again, shoves a couple crinkled papers with an all-too-familiar circle-with-an-X symbol under the bed with the toe of his shoe.]

If you think Chara isn't keeping tabs on you anymore, sure, I trust you.

[He says it so nonchalantly that he doesn't stop to second-guess it until it's already out there. Trust, huh. Alex doesn't do trust, generally. Sure he trusts her on paper, but in practice? That's a different story.

He slouches in the desk chair wearily. He hasn't been getting a whole lot of sleep. Now he's got nightmares of his own horribly bloody death replaying in his head on top of the ones he already had.]

[She's... still not sure. There's definitely an attempt on her part to calm down and just relax, but on the way to Alex's room she must have looked over her shoulder ten times. Checking to see if there's a knife wielding child running up from behind.

But there never was. Maybe things really are okay. For her. Not for Alex?

She can do these favors for him, at least, and be extremely careful about being followed. She's a terrible fighter, but she's not so bad as a sneak.

His slouch and weariness are all pretty obvious. Her brow furrows, thinking about what to say, trying to think how to not get too pissed and turn this into an argument.]

...Thank you. By the way.

[He snorts.]

Yeah? For what?

[He digs his fingernail rather viciously into the arm of his stupid desk chair, shredding the fraying material.]

You talking the thing down was apparently all you had to do. That was all you.

[Ugghh. What does she say to something like that? Honestly it's kind of true. Even talking to Chara (easily one of the scariest things she's ever done) might not have been necessary if he hadn't jumped the gun. But anyone who's willing to die to help her out (because that's how she sees it) at least has good intentions.

She shifts uncomfortably on the bed, trying to look him straight in the eye and sort of failing.]

Don't you think I'm grateful?

For getting - ? [He mimes a knife going right into his middle with a corresponding kgggjk noise.]

It was a mistake. I guess you were right about that one.

[Or so he'll admit out loud. Privately, he's pretty set on the idea that Chara needs to die, one way or another, and anyone with the guts to do it quick and clean is the kind of person Wonderland needs around.]

[Her eyes narrow at the gesture and she can't help a short exhale that almost sounds like a laugh. Not that it should be amusing, but at least he's keeping it real, and that cheers her up slightly.]

For standing up for me. Really. [She tries a smile, and she's glad it comes out well.] But I'm glad you agree.

[At least he seems to be coming around, and she takes that as an opportunity to press further with the conversation.]

People don't usually jump to that as the first solution, you know.

[One side of his mouth twists wryly. That food also smells pretty damn good, so he pushes himself to his feet and wanders over to start rummaging through that bag.]

What can I say? I watch a lot of horror flicks.

[He uncaps the water and downs a good portion of it in one go.]

[She watches him down the water warily. Sure, blame the movies. Like she'd believe that.]

You'd think horror movies would teach you not to get into stuff like that.

[She gives him a pointed look.]

I think we have to like... actually talk.

Does the creepy soulless kid ever have anything good to offer the heroes?

[He won't pretend that what he did was elegant, or even moral. But it was justified. He did what had to be done. Or he attempted to. Put that sucker in the ground before it murders anyone. For the good of the entire mansion.

He digs out some of those pork chops.]

Fine. So talk.

[W-what, Max first? She shifts again on the edge of the bed, wanting to stand, but forcing herself to stay put. Okay...]

So uhm, Oregon. Arcadia Bay.

[She holds a breath. Exhales sharply.

Nope.]

You first.

Tuscaloosa, Alabama. See, I can list locations of interest too.

[Is she expecting him to share everything about his...particular circumstances? Because, haha, no, the last person who asked about them was left strangled into silence in the grass.]

What's your point?

[She expected him to protest, but she didn't think about her own hesitation to spill the beans. This is embarrassing, and she's not sure how to proceed.]

I didn't expect you to go all out when I told you about Chara. [She pauses as though the next thing is obvious, but presses on eventually.] I really don't think it was because of movies.

[Har. Well, even if that little escapade had gone as planned, he'd have far more questions to answer than he'd be comfortable with. What was your plan then, huh, Kralie? Gut more people? Leave them writhing in the dirt, holding in their intestines with their fingers?

That's morbid.

He turns his mind away from the thought.]

Call it survival instinct. I don't like drawing things out.

[He folds his arms, food momentarily forgotten.]

In my experience, it's better to nip these kinds of things in the bud before they bite you in the ass.

What experience, Alex?

[That's exactly what she's talking about. The only other person she knows who would pull a stunt like that is pretty darn mentally disturbed. By the end of things he was practically waving his gun around at any little thing.

And if Alex is like that too? She'd like to know. To avoid the same problems, and help if she can.]

[He turns away and scoops up the water bottle again to buy himself some time. He fiddles with it, running a fingertip around the cap, then digging his thumbnail into the paper label and shredding it from the plastic with steady, deliberate tenacity.

How does he talk about this? How does he talk about a thing that can't be talked about? There's a word for it, isn't there?

He closes his eyes, keeps his tone deceptively light.]

So, uh - you ever heard of like, stuff that travels by word of mouth? It's -

[He wets his lips. He still can't look at Max.]

There's a word for it. It's - it's like a virus.

[That's it. It's like a virus. And he's the cure. The antibody. The hero that scrubs that all clean. Even if means killing everyone and everything that has anything to do with it.]

[She shrugs.]

Sure, like a meme.

[A virus that travels like a meme though? That sounds scary as hell, especially to someone who spends so much time online.]

What would it do? I mean, like, biological stuff?

Memetic. [He snaps his fingers. That's it. That's the one.] That's the word.

[Now for the hard part. There's a little mound of shredded label that's rapidly growing on his desktop, and the rate of his studious picking at it intensifies as he keeps going.]

So. There's this thing. It doesn't have a name, or - [He shivers, unable to suppress the chill racing up his spine.] - or a face. It just...is. And whoever sees it, hears about it, looks at it -

[A hard swallow. The words are sticking in his throat. Max might think this is the right thing, but poking in deep? That's how people get killed.]

Things start to go wrong.

Wrong.

[She clears her throat.

Hears about it. He said, whoever hears about it. And she's in his room right now, listening to him tell her about it. She just got out of trouble, sort of - she doesn't want to get into more.

But she's nothing if not inquisitive. Nosey. Maybe she'll ask just one or two more things.]

Like... how?

[Alex...Alex laughs. It's not a good sound. It's not genuine, it's not remotely joking. It's mirthless, condescending, ugly. You think he wanted this? You think he wanted the blood of everyone he knew on his hands? He was the source. He had to put an end to it.

He talks slow, quiet, but the longer he goes, the more rapid his breathing gets, the quicker the words just pour out, tumble out, rush out unchecked, like they've got a life of their own. Like they've just been waiting to be said.

L̳i̗k᷂eͮ ịt̝'͍s᷅w̌h̬a͈t̩ t̡h̗e͆y̜'͏v̒eͬ a̔l̞w̤a̔y̯s̪ w͏a͟n̈́t̺e᷾d͔.]

You wake up, and there's someone in the room with you. Standing there, watching. [He laughs again, and it's almost a sneer.] Only there's not. You look again, and there's not. But you leave your house - and there it is, watching. And it follows you. It's not there, not really, and you can't get a good look at it because it's not really there. It's just you, losing your goddamn mind. Going crazy. Delusional. What's really out there?

[Suddenly he rounds on her. His phone, left on his desk, abruptly flares to life, spitting static. Alex stares at Max, an inch from reaching out and grabbing her, as if to shake the sense into her. His eyes are wild. Manic. Almost hysterical.]

What's really out there, Max?

[Holy shit.

She stands as he rounds on her, an instinct born out of fear. The way his eyes are wide and staring, the way the words seem to crash out like an avalanche- she doesn't fully understand, but she can feel the rising hysteria.

But he wouldn't hurt her. She reaches out, grabs his arms right below his shoulders. When she speaks her voice is confused but soothing, to match her worried expression as she looks up at him.]

Hey, it's okay, there's... there's nothing here.

[She shakes her head a fraction side to side, to emphasize her point, to get him to look around the room to see that it's just them.]

[Holy god, no. No no no no no no see this this is bad this is it this is how it starts and he's done - so much to keep this thing contained but it's still in him.

Alex jolts to a halt at the contact, jaw clenched tight enough to crack a molar. He blinks hard, shaking his head, his breathing still too tight and too heavy. He turns back, pulling away from Max's grip. He needs to move. Pace.]

That's what I thought. [A low, dry sound rasps in the back of his throat. Not a laugh. Not...anything.] But it's showed up here before. In Wonderland.

[His hands are fists, nails digging into the flesh of his palms, hard enough to hurt.]

It can show up again.

Then we can deal with it. We can.

[She doesn't even know what it is. But she wants to help, not leave him after the effort he made to help her.

She watches him pace, still with a worried expression. But he seems to have calmed down somewhat - barely manaed to, it seems.]

It might never even come back.

You don't know.

[His tone hardens savagely.] You can't dig that thing out once it's in there. It's there.

[It's his fault.

No it's not. He fixed it. Like a hero.]

Sooner or later it'll come for me. And that'll be the end of it.

[He says it dully. The thought's always been there, even if he's never acknowledged it. He clung gamely to a normal life. Moved away, settled down with Amy. Pretended it all never happened. What a fucking goddamn luxury that was.]

It's better like that.

[She walks over to him, slowly, and lays a reassuring hand on his arm - it seemed to help before. She tilts her head to try and look him in the eye, even as he paces around.

Comforting him seems like the priority, and although she's not exactly sure what to say, there are a few points she wants to get across. Mainly that he shouldn't panic, that he should try to look on the bright side of things.]

Don't say that... You're not even sure it will show up. It could all be okay.

Sure. [He snaps it out bitterly, without any conviction whatsoever.] I'm sure it'll be all fine.

[It was him, wasn't it. He was the source. The root of the cause. And now it's going to dig its claws into everyone here, and all he can do is hope that it just never comes.

He takes a breath, shakes his head. Max is trying to anchor him, he can tell, and he seizes upon that feverishly.]

All right. I've done my sharing corner. Your turn.

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