entrancelogs | ( open ) I toss and turn, I can't sleep at night

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( open ) I toss and turn, I can't sleep at night

Who: Bruce Banner & YOU
Where: All around the mansion and the grounds
When: During the second half of August
Rating: PG13 for likely mentions of trauma and violence, will update if need be
Summary: Bruce slowly tries to cope with Wonderland, Ultron, Sokovia, and the mutant event. It doesn't always work well.
The Story:

[ Coping is a pretty word. But like a lot of complicated words, it's pretty on paper, with a clean cut description added at the front like a dictionary, explained just right. Here, this means that in the English language, and that's how it all works.

But it's not. Adapting words to reality makes it obvious just how some things can't be described with precision, how fallible language can be. Bruce finds himself at a loss as of late, lost between what he feels and what he thinks, what to do or say in face of the experiences he needs to work through.

By comparison, the mutant event really shouldn't have affected him that much. But then it does, because he was so put-together then, he had principles, a purpose, something he genuinely believed in and was willing to fight for. Now? Now he's back to normal. His normal, messed-up and lost self. Well— slightly better now, but does it make much of a difference? He's still completely out of sorts, and he doesn't mean just in Wonderland. He means in life overall. Like he doesn't entirely belong there, or anywhere.

He tries hard to cope, though. Just a pretty word, but he does. Mostly this means burying himself neck deep into science, work, whatever he can study in this place. When even that gets too frustrating and leads nowhere, he heads out for a walk around the mansion, tries to eat something— loses his appetite after a couple of bites but forces himself to finish anyway. Can't have him getting so hungry he'll lose his handle on himself.

The gardens are pretty but it all seems a little hollow to him, still he'll make his way there, sometimes walking one of the stray dogs currently being looked after by Sam and those who'd shown interest in helping. The beach is, by far, one of his favorite places, considering it's usually more deserted, and he finds himself the quietest and farthest spot to sit by himself, eyes fixed on the horizon.

In the meantime, he keeps an eye for familiar faces. People he knew during the mutant event, people he felt like he'd shaped a bond with. Some of them he does want to get to meet here, and the ones he'd had less than pleasant encounters with he also hopes to find. Even if there's one in particular he's keen on avoiding, but that's something to worry about later. Way later. ]

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[ It's late in the night. Not too late, but definitely not early. Not the kind of hour one would be knocking at someone else's door— but here he is.

Bruce has spent the past few hours twisting and turning in bed, trying and failing to fall asleep. In fact he feels like he's been spending the past few weeks in that state, only managing to doze off when well and truly exhausted, and that's not a good thing. It's too risky, and he should've worried about that long before now.

The thing is, he doesn't know what to do. Exercises won't help him like they used to, mechanisms he used to follow obsessively to make himself fall asleep no longer produce any result. He's so tired at this point that even his eyes hurt, like the light burns holes through his pupils and straight into his brain.

And he's desperate enough that in a fit of fear and frustration and admitted neediness, he walks down the hallway and stops in front of Natasha's bedroom, in sweatpants and a sweater that look too loose on him, lifting a hand up and knocking on the door. The tapping of knuckles against wood is soft but loud in the dead silence of the hallway. It's like it wakes him up from some sort of hypnotic state, and immediately he regrets being here. Bothering her with his issues.

Once she opens the door, she might see him turning around and getting ready to walk back to his room again. ]

Bruce?

[ Her voice is soft in the quiet hallway, but she catches him before he can flee again. it's late, but she wasn't asleep either. Although she's dressed down for the night, in a pair of tight yoga pants and a too-large tshirt that she practically swims in, her hair slightly mussed and curled about her face.

She steps out, the door open behind her, only a faint glow coming from her room. She searches his face in the dim light, a worried frown on her face. ]

Are you alright? Did you need something?

[ Her voice is enough to stop him in his tracks, and he turns to look at her again, looking as guilty now as he does tired. He hesitates even more than he usually would, hands holding each other and fingers fidgeting in a nervous tick. ]

Nothing. It's nothing. [ It's not nothing, obviously. Bruce isn't the kind of person to just show up at people's doors unannounced for some small, unimportant reason. ]

Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up. I'll, uh... we can talk tomorrow. [ Which is Bruce's code for 'let's not talk about this again'. ]

You didn't wake me, I wasn't asleep yet. [ She cocks her head to the side, taking in the sight of him, noticing all the little ticks and tells he gives away with his posture and fidgets, more than he ever does with his words. ]

Would you like to come in?

[ He goes from fidgeting to crossing his arms tightly, enough that his shoulders hunch and he practically oozes tension, nearly vibrating through his every muscle and tendon. ]

I don't know if I should. [ Yes, yes I would. He never says what he means, though. Well, almost never. ]

Since when has that ever stopped you?

[ She counters with a smile and steps slightly to the side, making room for him, if that's what he needs. She recognizes that particular hunch to his shoulders, the tense way he holds himself. Her hand lifts, motioning him inside. ]

Come inside, Bruce. I promise I won't bite.

[ He wants to say 'plenty of times', because it's true, but also it's not, and he knows what she means. His shoulders drop in slight defeat, even if he never came here with too strong a resolve to walk away, and it doesn't take much at all for her to get him to stay.

Wordlessly, he walks past her, sparing her a glance that's almost ashamed before stepping into her room. He scans the area more out of habit than anything, though he doesn't expect much there to surprise him. Finally, he turns to her, and once the door is closed and they have some modicum of privacy, he speaks up, lets it all out before hesitating enough to stop himself. ]

I can't sleep. [ It comes out as a rough exhale, his eyes closing and head dropping. ] It's been going on... God, for a while. Since I got here, I think. The exercises don't work anymore, I just end up passing out when I'm too exhausted to do anything else. I don't— I don't know what to do. This is dangerous and I don't know how to fix it.

[ That's almost laughable. As if there's anything about him that can be fixed. ]

[Frisk is in the garden. They have been picking flowers for the past hour or so, laid out a lovely array of multicolored blooms as if assembling a bouquet. They might be. Who knows? They've gathered together a clump of dandelions, contemplating whether they might make a chain out of them, when a man walks by with a dog.

The man is unfamiliar to them. He looks like an adult, which doesn't make them predisposed to call out. But the dog seems to have caught a glimpse of them, and they've never been one to resist the lure of a dog.

They draw out of hiding tentatively, hand extended for the dog to sniff. They keep their eyes downcast as they address either the dog or the man or both.]

Hello.

[ Bruce hasn't really caught up on sleep yet, he hasn't really gotten anywhere with coping with things either. Part of it may be because he's just unwilling to face things and instead keeps avoiding them, like that's gonna solve everything. He should know by now that time doesn't heal all wounds; some of them just sit there and fester until they're ugly and something he can never recover from.

Not that that stops him from ignoring them anyway. There are things he can do now, and those are the things he focuses on. He may not sleep much, but that just means he has to double his efforts to stay in control, which means a lot of meditation, a lot of training, a lot of exercise.

He's just thinking of going for a jog early in the morning when he remembers an offer he got not so long ago, and grabbing his phone, he sends out a text to Sharon before he even gets out of bed. ]

Hey. Up for a run?

[ Bruce isn't even paying much mind to any people around, though he makes note of any movement nearby, and he definitely wasn't planning on disturbing the child seemingly assembling a bouquet. Were this some months ago, he'd likely feel compelled to ask if they were alright or lost, but he knows better by now.

His buddy for today is far more sociable than he is, though, and before Bruce even gets to say anything, the small puppy's running towards the child. Bruce smiles, figuring they're addressing the dog more than they are him, and not particularly taking it to heart. ]

He says 'hi' too.

He's very cute. Is he yours?

[* Pet. It's a simple command, and the dog seems delighted to be getting some physical affection. They scratch behind his ears a few times, still seemingly unable to glance up to meet his walker's eyes.]

[ Bruce doesn't really try to get the kid to look at him, either. Maybe they're just shy, or they don't like talking to strangers— either way, it's not in him to force contact or interaction, and he feels much more comfortable himself keeping that distance for now. ]

No, he's one of the animals that ended up without an owner. When people go— go back home, the pets they had here get left behind. So I've been helping a few other people with taking care of them.

You've been caring for them too?

[That gets them to brighten up some, glancing at him sidelong with a newfound curiosity. They've worked with the makeshift shelter here and there - not recently, thanks to certain events taking up nearly all of their attention. But it's a good reminder to head back sometime.]

The ones at the shelter Sam set up, I mean?

[Max is feeling pretty bummed out about the event too, but for a different reason. She walks along the beach during her favorite time of day, when the sun is setting, camera held tightly in her hands.

If she was born in Genosha instead of Arcadia Bay... things would've gotten screwed up, too. Maybe in all the universes, all the Maxes just have screwed up lives... All the Maxes have to deal with their crazy unexplained power...

She's so lost in thought that she doesn't notice Bruce sitting near the shore until she's close enough to call out to him.]

Hey, uhh... Bruce. [Embarrassment creeps up her neck, coloring her cheeks pink in the light of the setting sun.]

[He might come out to the beach because he wants privacy, but he doesn't own the place. After he settles, there's a teenager who closes in on him, sitting cross-legged in the sand and staring directly at him. She squints, glances toward the colors building at the edge of the horizon, and shifts slightly to her right.]

I'm gonna need you to not move for a minute.

[She opens a sketchbook without asking permission or introducing herself first. That would just waste time.]

( It's while Lydia's walking her dog that she finds Bruce walking one of the strays. It's the first time since she'd talked to Sam that she'd seen anyone doing it, and hopefully that meant there were others doing it too. It's also the first time since Bruce had been back that she's seen him, though she knew he was back. And he was unlucky - he'd been, gone, returned, left again and then returned again, each time without memories of the last. Anyone that was here was unlucky but at least remembering people and what you'd done was something - memories turned out to be precious.

That was why she wasn't going to say much. He didn't remember anything he'd done, or anything they'd said. It could be awkward and uncomfortable having that happen. If he had to start fresh so would she )

Does this one have a name?

( There's possibly one called Peanut that might like to know him again too )

[ Sharon is currently in the training center, looking for tougher enemies than the dummies in the sparring facility. Her comm buzzes, and when she checks it, her eyebrows snap together.

Does he feel like he's about to snap, or is this just a run?

There's only one way to find out, of course. And that's fine by her. She can burn some energy running. ]

Sure. Where do you want to meet?

That's the one, yes.

[ Bruce's eyebrows raise in both surprise and interest, although it shouldn't be that much of a surprise. Sam did make an open call to the network asking for help, so it stands to reason that a lot of people would know of his efforts to keep the shelter running. ]

I can't be there all the time, but I try to help when I can. And I like being around animals. [ More than he does most people. ] Have you been helping around too?

[ It's not like he's about to snap, not really. If he were, then he'd probably seek out someone else— or run off into the forest, a far likelier option. For now, he just needs a distraction, and a way to burn off some energy and hope that helps him ease up on the tension a little.

Maybe if he tires himself enough he can finally get a decent night's sleep. ]

Front of the mansion? I can be there in twenty.

Yeah. Not, not really recently, though. Stuff's been...piling up.

[But animals are better than humans, they think. Not as good as monsters, but better than humans. They have an undisclosed theory that animals, like monsters, must have their very existence be contingent on being compassionate and kind.

They grin at the puppy's obvious energy and delight to be receiving so much attention.]

Animals are nicer than a lot of the things here.

[ Twenty minutes. That gives her maybe... ten minutes to poke around a little more, maybe hit a couple things, and then meet him out front. ]

I'll see you there.

She putters around for a while longer, finally deciding to go a round with the punching bags, before slipping out and meandering toward the front of the building. She stretches her legs and wonders what kind of course he's used to, if he's interested in slow jogs or pushing himself. On the one hand, civilian scientist. On the other hand, Hulk and Avenger. Hard to tell.

If she had to guess, though, she'd say the civilian side would win out. Maybe he's into yuppie stuff like yoga and eating kale, but she's guessing he's not a distance runner unless people are chasing after him.

So she might have to push him with this run, then. Neither SHIELD nor the CIA were interested in people who couldn't hack the physical exertions for the job. She might as well try to pass that on. ]

[ Honestly, he'd probably be handling all this a little better if his life had been as screwed up in Genosha as it was here. Well, not that it wasn't plenty screwed up, because it was, but he certainly wasn't as much of a mess then. He was gathered, he had something to believe in and fight for, he had friends too, people special to him...

In some ways, it reminded him of what he used to have, when he was part of the Avengers. How he'd felt like he belonged. All good things come to an end, though, and that's true for his time with the Avengers as it is for his life in Genosha. Messed up as the island itself might have been.

He looks calm now, though. Not many of his feelings break the surface, and when someone speaks up, the one that does is actually pleasant surprise. ]

Max. [ His eyebrows raise as he recognizes the girl almost as soon as he looks up at her. He smiles a little. ] I've been meaning to look for you. How are you?

[ Bruce happens to have his eyes closed when the girl approaches, and though his sharp senses usually let him know when someone's walking up to him, his ears are too focused on the sound of the waves breaking across the sand, and her footsteps are too soft and quiet. He's not deep in meditation by any means, but there's a sense of peace he relishes in from simply sitting quietly like this.

When the girl speaks up, though, he peels his eyes open, looking at her and cracking a very small smile at her request— well, order. ]

Not even to talk?

[ That's a consistent trait of his— no matter where, when or how, Bruce has always been a pretty unlucky person. His experiences with Wonderland are only one of those many circumstances, and to be perfectly honest? Bruce much prefers a situation where he doesn't remember. Not just the bad things, for obvious reasons, but the good things too, for the simple reason that those memories would only hurt more now. Like they're taunting him; look, Bruce, all you had that you can't have anymore.

So, he's taking this whole thing as well as he can manage, which isn't saying a lot exactly, but at least he's not panicking and running off into the forest. He even manages to look somewhat approachable when the girl asks him about the dog's name. ]

Uh... We're not sure. I've been calling her Poppy, since we couldn't figure out if she'd been given a name before.

[ In the meantime, Bruce leans down to pet the other puppy. ] Does yours?

[Either Bruce is a really chill guy, or he's down at the beach staring off at the horizon because something's wrong. Given that this is Wonderland and they're coming from a pretty nutso event, Max is going to assume that it's the second one. She's probably not the right person to try and cheer him up or anything, but at least she brought something that should help.]

I'm okay. Better. [She takes a seat next to him and digs her shoes slightly into the sand.] What about you?

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( open ) I toss and turn, I can't sleep at night

for Natasha

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for Sharon

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Beach

idek but this is happening

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omg yes good

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