entrancelogs | [ OPEN ]

Who: Kurt Weller + YOU
Where: Around the mansion
When: June 17 and beyond
Rating: PG (I think)
Summary: Broken, haunted ~~emo~~ FBI agent dealing with his emotional baggage. Come say hi! Get drunk or train at the gym with him. Or insist he just relax a little and have some pie. XD
The Story:

b a r;

He's been in Wonderland for a few weeks now, but sleep still eludes him. So many people think of dreams as a chance to escape the realities of life, to be free. But his dreams are tainted with darkness, entrapping him in memories he's sure he'll spend the rest of his life reliving, over and over again. The ghosts come when he closes his eyes; all the people he couldn't save, all the families destroyed with two single words: I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't save them. He's used the words so many times, he wonders if they hold any meaning for the people left behind to pick up the pieces from a lost life. He used to wonder, if he apologized enough times, would she come back - in that quiet place between dreams where Taylor's still alive? Would she know he meant it, that he would never let her go again?

He's discovered quickly enough that in Wonderland, there is all manner of magic. It's nothing that makes sense to him, it's nothing he can even believe most of the time, but it has its uses. He could ask for a pill to help him sleep, maybe. See if there's a doctor around here to help. Anything. But he won't. He'll live with the ghosts because in his dreams, he gets to see her again. Taylor.

Frustrated, he gives up trying to sleep and leaves the mansion around midnight, making his way outside. Kurt casts his eyes up to the sky, thinking how different and similar it looks at the same time. They made s'mores together under skies like this. They sang songs, they took shelter together in his tent when the sky unleashed a torrent of rain, muting the stars and the light from the moon until all that remained were shadows. She was scared of those moments, that absolute darkness, and the earth trembling with thunder. There was never anything to fear then, Kurt thought. The monsters that existed in this world were easily vanquished, or so his youthful mind thought. All he had to do was hold her and promise to protect her, and the monsters wouldn't dare come near them. He had no idea, of course, that the biggest monster to fear was his own father, that the best friend he cradled in his arms and swore to protect would one day be nothing more than a pile of bones buried beneath the earth by his own father.

He rubs a hand over his face, looking back down at his hands, clenching them together to stop them from shaking. There's no point in trying to sleep now, so he goes back inside, makes his way to the bar, and decides he'll spend the rest of the night tucked into a glass of liquor.

training gym;

The absence of a daily routine is unnerving to Kurt. It makes him restless and uneasy; not that he'll ever be comfortable in a place like this, but he's desperate for at least something that feels more normal, grounding like if he were at home. He's been told about the training gym, so he tries to get there often, finding comfort in the familiarity of it. He finds himself often at the punching bag, landing strike after strike, finding it almost meditative as he tries to unravel all the chaos in his mind.

around the mansion;

Kurt's not the type to openly socialize with anyone, though he tries to be friendly when approached. He's communicated with people through his phone-like device, and that's easier somehow than getting to know people in person. There's a barrier, it keeps him safe from getting close to people he's not fully sure he can trust. But he's met some people here who seem...decent, and with everything he's heard, the more allies he can find, the better. So he tries to get out of his room fairly often, and when he's not at the bar or the gym, he walks around, just getting a feel for the place and the people here. Nothing much seems to happen here between events, but he wants to keep an eye on things regardless.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Daisy is just coming into the gym, actually. Dressed in black capri yoga pants and a green tank top, she has a small towel over her right shoulder and a water bottle in her left hand. She sees a man at a punching bag who looks like he means business for sure.

"You trying to knock that thing down or what?" She asks with a half smile as she puts her water bottle and towel down to go claim a free punching bag nearby.

Though he knows it's a joke, she might not be entirely wrong. He's going at the punching bag harder than he ever has before, as if by pounding at it, he can get rid of everything weighing him down right now. He knows better, of course, and he can hear his sister in his head telling him he should actually probably talk to a therapist or something.

But this is better therapy.

Shaking his head, Kurt pauses and rests both hands on the bag to steady it. "Guess I got carried away."

Daisy would also agree with the feeling that this is better therapy -- the only therapist she hasn't completely hated is Andrew Garner, and he's not here in Wonderland at all anyway. So basically there's no therapist here that she'd enjoy, very likely.

"Don't worry, I'm not judging." She starts giving her bag a couple of light kicks to start with. "Daisy Johnson." She introduces herself. "How long have you been among the ranks of residents of Wonderland?"

Kurt has met with a therapist sometimes as well, back home at the FBI field office. He's often resistant about discussing heavier subjects, but the only one who could ever make him talk about his "feelings" that in depth would be Dr. Robert Borden, and he's not here. So it's the gym, and the punching bag in front of him.

"Kurt Weller," he offers in return, punching his bag with his right hand. "Few weeks now. That was a hell of a day." He'd showed up here with his gun - the same gun he'd been aiming at the head of the woman he thought he knew. He thought she was his best friend. He thought...well, a lot of things. Every instinct turned out to be wrong.

She offers a sympathetic glance. "Yeah, I don't think inter-dimensional travel is going to be an easy day for a lot of people. I mean, I come from a world where the idea of other worlds isn't ... absurd, and even I was feeling some serious jetlag. I didn't even get one of those sweet neck pillows. My first few minutes, I thought this place was a cool base my employer didn't tell me about."

A few days ago, the comment about her own world would have given him more pause, but he's already seen and heard too much to be surprised. It's interesting, though, to learn about what it's like where people are from, how different their worlds are.

"That'd be a hell of a secret to keep from you. Who's your employer?"

"Yeah..." She says with a slight chuckle. "That's kind of what they're in the business of back home, the secret keeping thing. One of those government agencies with an acronym because the name is too long to say otherwise. Mine was called SHIELD, and they took care of the things that other agencies didn't know about, and-slash-or couldn't deal with."

Like, you know, alien threats, etc.

Well, it seems they have a little something in common then. Tilting his head a little in curiosity, Kurt mentions, "I'm with the FBI back home. Never heard of SHIELD. You ever work with the FBI or CIA?"

"Nice. So you probably know the Sometimes I Think I Don't Get Paid Enough For This Shit life too." She says with an amused smirk. "And, ah, I sort of have worked with them? A few years ago, I helped the FBI and CIA refine their firewalls and whatnot several times." She hacked the agencies, that's what she means -- not as if she left too much room in the wording for that to be very vague, honestly. That kind of hacking was back when she thought all secrets should be exposed (SHIELD's secrets and anyone else's in the government -- FBI, CIA, NSA, whoever), before she learned that people are sometimes actually safer when some secrets are kept. That had thrown her hacktivist head for a loop at first.

He can read between the lines, and though he doesn't necessarily condone that kind of behavior - Kurt is still very black and white, though he's having to forcibly adjust his perspectives now, in light of some shattering recent events - he can see the benefits to be gained - sometimes - by working with people outside the law to make others safer. But there's a very, very fine line to tread in that regard.

This girl seems harmless, though, on the outside. Then again, his instincts have been wrong lately.

"I know that life," he smirks a little. "Rice and beans, frozen pizza, peanut butter, that'll get you through it." Yeah, he doesn't really cook much, though he's actually a decent sort of cook when he does.

"So you were a hacker, basically. We've worked with people like that."

"I can do ramen noodles and popcorn. Those were my go-tos. And I mean like the really terrible kind of popcorn, with too much butter and extra salt." Which is also her favorite snack anyway. No shame.

"Yeah, I was, and was eventually recruited onto the team because of those particular skills - even though, honestly, at first I think they just wanted me out of the open to start with and wanted to just keep an eye on me." Alas, she charmed them and they her, so she was eventually offered to be officially trained. "I've learned not all secrets need to be out there, but I'm also the token 'this one has no problem bending or breaking rules when we need someone to' member of the team." No shame about that either.

Kurt has a few of his own guilty pleasures; though not really guilty, because he'll freely admit to enjoying Oreos and pizza, and indulging whenever the hell he wants. He doesn't adhere to any strict diet regimens, but he keeps fairly well in shape just running all over the damn place for his job. And he goes to the gym in his off time as well, of course.

She sounds a little bit like Jane, in the way she was recruited and monitored.

"Rules are in place for a reason," he raises an eyebrow. "You see it differently?"

"Well, yeah, I follow a lot more rules than I used to, that's for sure. And we all know agencies can and do bend or break them when they feel they need so, and I'm just the one they have no issue asking to break them in that case. I'm not squeamish."

Poor Kurt. He's only just very, very recently had a lot of worldviews and perspectives shattered. Obliterated, really. He was never naive, but he liked to think the FBI was above all that. They weren't dirty, not like some agencies. He'd quickly and heartbreakingly come to realize that was far from true. All of them bend the rules to suit their needs.

"You like what you do, then?"

[ OPEN ]

@ gym

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