Freshmen - part 10
Obloquy
CrossMyHeart And HopeToDie, StickANeedleInMyEye
- Location
- the Physical Realm
Life Ore Death
* February 14 [Ferris PoV]"Yes, I agree," I sighed. "I do remember saying similar things, and 'it is like bleeding out poison, cauterizing a wound,' and the like."
<Recognized: Ferris, B06. >
"I will follow through and tell him," I promised, appearing in a Park Maintenance Services shed in Centennial Park in Metropolis.
"Tell who?"
"Jimmy," I greeted, applying a smile that was significantly genuine to my face. I rolled over. "I hope I have not kept you waiting long." 'Motherbox seems to still be translating for me, as he can understand me and I am still speaking Scadrese.' "I apologize, but I may be complaining about my day during our date. Tell me if I start to take my temper out on you, please."
<Approval of upfront honesty and apologetic tendencies, > Motherbox chimed.
"Okay," he said, slightly amused. "It's your day so I'm not going to complain. Aren't you cold?"
"Mm." I pouted at him. "Please do complain. Additionally, it is our day today. Happy Valentines Day." His head wasn't in reach, and we were not ones for 'making out' as yet, but I pecked the back of his hand and ran my thumb over his knuckles and he smiled.
"Your date idea, your treat, it seems like your day," he said, although his grin had me hoping he was deliberately teasing.
"You bought the last one, and you will do the next one. Also, I note you have kept one hand behind your back since I arrived," I accused playfully. "Tell me, is it jewelry?" I had asked him not to bother, but I had done so expecting he would anyway.
"Hey! In my defense," he protested, producing the box, "I had already bought these before you told me not to bother."
I was not much for adornment outside my metal-minds – I had put on some minimal make-up for my complexion, and golden eye shadow – but I wanted to convey my appreciation of his thought and effort, thus I hummed pleasantly with a smug grin and took the box.
Inside were a necklace, two bracelets, and a pair of earrings. The metal was silvery, styled like looping chains, with small flowers at set increments among the links. The earrings were similar flowers.
"These-," 'Lovely sounds too suggestive and generic, but gorgeous sounds a little strong and he may think I'm playing him up.' "-are exquisite," I purred. "Help me put them on?" I offered, as my only metal-minds were on my ankles and jewelry was an excuse to touch me.
I had seen that done in several stories and two movies, so it seemed a reliable trope/ploy/pattern. Sure enough, he brightened up.
"I remembered there was something special with you about earrings," he mentioned proudly as he draped on the necklace and clipped the chain while I held my hair out of the way, "so these are clip-ons." I checked, and they certainly were, which impressed me.
'Not Feruchemical, but very thoughtful of him.' "Thank you," I said, soft and sincere. "I sincerely appreciate it; I am impressed, too."
"Always happy to please," he chuckled, brushing his fingers across my bare forearm as he hooked on one bracelet. "Are you cold?"
"Not for long. You did wear short sleeves under the jacket, I hope," I dismissed, eyeing him.
"I did," he said slowly. "Is this too tight? Just right? Good."
"Picture?" I suggested. "Mm, no, wait until we get better light," I realized.
"It's a bit cloudy out. Where are we going, anyway?"
"Back into the Zeta Tubes," I revealed smugly, though I was a touch surprised that he had not guessed the next step. Jimmy hesitated.
"Can I do that? I mean, don't you need-?"
"The Superman did not tell you?" I asked, confused.
"What, did Clark tell me…? Are we going to the fortress of Solitude? He told me that I was… Oh, that system, all the teleporters."
"Yes," I agreed, accepting that it had got a little garbled, but now he knew. I finished my location programming. "Follow me, please."
<Recognized: Ferris, B06. >
<Recognized: James Olsen, D16. >
"Cool," he murmured as we stepped out in the corner of a science lab's garage. "Wow, it is warmer here. Where are we, near the equator?"
"Stabroek," I revealed. "The local official language is English, we have reservations at a restaurant a few blocks away, it is wheelchair accessible, and there is a view of the ocean."
"Totally super-duper. Isn't this place, like, the capitol…? Well, it was really lucky you finding it. May I?"
"If you are willing," I said, consenting to let him push me. I had not remembered which country we were in, just that it was in South America, so I skipped that bit and moved on mentally to the other part of his statement. "I was not luck, just a little work."
"Huh? Well," he chuckled, "that makes it sound like you really want to gloat about finding this place. Go ahead."
"Mm. You read me too well," I faux-complained, as I was going to extra effort in emoting since I still couldn't tap connection with him.
"Oh, come on. You look- You look completely beautiful when you get to monologue and explain all about this clever thing you pulled off or your strong opinion, belief, whatever. It's a total treat to see," he complimented. "Go wild."
"Mm. Okay," I faux-grumbled, putting up the pretext of a pout. It slid into a grin as I inhaled. "It wasn't luck or a recommendation, I did about three hours of research to find this place, with help. Step one… well, once I'd decided I wanted to do something special and asked around, I got warned that restaurant reservations would be packed. But. We have access to the Zetas," I observed as we left the garage and made it onto the street, "so my first step was to requisition a list of available Zeta Tubes I could take you through.
"Next, I looked up the countries for crime, similar things, and especially language so you wouldn't have much difficulty."
"Um," he interrupted. I gave a curious hum. "I know you aren't this eloquent with normal English speaking, so is there a reason I couldn't just use whatever you're using to translate. Motherbox, right?" If I had been walking, that would have stopped me in my place.
"I absolutely forgot to think of that," I admitted. 'I'm still so used to Feruchemy, which can change only me… Rusts.' "Motherbox, please feel free to remind me in cases where you would be willing to lend your assistance in the future. May I impose upon you-?"
<Assenting. Synched local transmission translation consciousness pluralities. >
"Thank you. I cannot believe I failed to think of that. Blind spots," I murmured faux-despairingly; it was a reference back to our talk on a prior date about people not noticing something—for example, 'Superman is Clark Kent,' or, 'Artemis and Robin are not dating'—that should be obvious due to their assumptions and perspectives. I had a tendency to mentally filter things through assumptions of magic involvement, Jimmy jumped to conclusions quickly when he saw something ambiguous, etc.
"Now you know for next time, and every other time, and if… uh, Motherbox? If she doesn't mind, you can do whole groups," he observed.
<Affirmation. >
"Was that her? Is she a her? Should I say hello?" Jimmy wondered.
"Motherbox does not mind, and is willing to use 'her' for simplicity's sake. She says hello back to you, too," I conveyed. Jimmy made a satisfied expression and motioned for me to keep talking. I scanned the crosswalk we were waiting at as I tried to remember… "Turn left after we cross, please. Mm. I found out where the Zeta Tubes were, then which countries would be appropriate—I reasoned it would be special and other countries may not celebrate Valentine's Day so fervently, so the reservations would be easier—and then I needed places."
"How did you figure out which restaurants were around the Tubes and appropriate for us?" he asked me obligingly.
'Good boy. I feel better already,' I reflected. 'He… does not know KF's identity, nor Artemis.' "Kid Flash wanted ideas for his Valentine's Day celebration. I had few ideas, other than the Zeta option, but I exchanged money with him for his help finding a restaurant."
"Convenient. Ahhh… In light of your, 'don't censor yourself' request, I admit I'm sort of judging him for mooching off you, but I guess he was being paid wages, just for an unconventional job, and, you know, 'life-saving hero'. Besides, I'm in no position to complain," he joked.
"Mm. If you have any of the local currency I will happily recant to let you buy," I offered. 'His tone sounds joking, but the fact that he's bringing it up as a repeated joke suggests it's eroding through his resolve. I'll need to keep track of that.' "Do you want to?" I smiled sweetly.
He stopped mid-walk and glanced down at me. "That's… actually pretty clever to keep me from grabbing the check. Intentional?"
"I only thought of it after I had the idea, thus it is… 'icing on the cake,' but I did think of it already," I acknowledged. I fluttered my eyelashes at him, emphasizing the bit of mascara M'gann helped me with. Jimmy either chuckled or grumbled, and then leaned down to kiss my forehead before he kept walking. I, in turn, then kept talking. "He helped me look things up through websites, then make sixteen phone calls to ask questions, and when we finally settled on three places he ran around to check them in person. This was the winner."
I had timed it almost perfectly as we arrived, rounding a corner for the restaurant to come into view silhouetted by the setting sun.
"It looks really swell," he acknowledged, rolling around a bit of foot traffic and toward the side ramp for wheelchair access.
<Visbility acceptable, or are you still recognizable? >
"Looks good, time to try the taste," I agreed. "Mm. One moment, and thank you, Motherbox…" I produced my glamour sunglasses.
"Those again? Will you be able to see?"
"The perils of publicity," I agreed with a sigh. "This works, I think?" I perched them on my forehead instead of over my eyes.
"Whatever works for you." He opened the door and led us to the staff worker waiting. "Reservation for two?"
"The name is Olsen. O-L-S-E-N," I volunteered. We were led to our table and offered menus. "Thank you. A few minutes?"
"Any idea what looks good?" he questioned as the wait staff walked away.
"Not a clue," I declared proudly, "thus, it is an adventure together." He chuckled at me. "Mm, do you eat shrimp?" I asked.
"Yeah, I like 'em. Lobster's better, but not by a lot unless it's cooked just right. See something?"
"Shrimp and sliced fruit platter. Fruit are my favorite, but I try to avoid eating too much meat in a single sitting. Want my excess?"
"Won't that see you stealing bites from me if you don't have enough?" he accused, eyes laughing.
'Ooh, I can really "run with" that.' "Who would be stealing? I'd make you feed me. Bite, by bite, by bite," I pronounced. Jimmy flushed.
"Wow. You're really direct tonight. Laying it on a bit thick aren't you?"
"Special occasion. I will stop if you want?" I offered. 'Too much discomfort is counter-productive, and I can't quite guess with him yet.'
"'snot bad, just unexpected," he mumbled. He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled. "I guess sharing meals or worrying about cooties is sort of silly compared to kissing." Not that we'd done much of that yet, but I was planning on a 'proper' good night kiss for him.
"The term you're thinking of, I think," I suggested, "may be Cognitive Dissonance: a sense of discomfort when two individual opinions or beliefs you hold are revealed to in some way contradict each other. I do not want to make you uncomfortable with me, but if you genuinely are uncomfortable with me organizing and buying, we may want to talk about it. Not to break up, but to compromise," I clarified.
"I…" He shook his head, and I was prepared to move on with some resignation, but he asked, "Do you know about 'going Dutch'?"
"I do not. Is it an ethnic slur, like 'Irish twins'?" 'I don't expect so, but it sounds like that category. Then again, French Fries….'
"No, no. Ahh… so there aren't really hard and fast Rules of Dating anymore than there's an actual Bro Code, as far as I know, but there's just some stuff that's understood, and some stuff that's common sense, and some stuff you find out about from word of mouth.
"Going Dutch," he continued, "means the guy and girl both pay their parts of the date; I pay for what I order and you pay for yours. The 'rule,'" he said, with actual finger quotes, "I learned about dating a 'Modern Woman' was guys buy on the first date and every time after you two go Dutch, unless you talk about it and decide something. Unless there's an obvious reason like someone's birthday," he added.
"Mm. May I guess?" I kept my face pleasant as Jimmy cringed, but he let me go on. "You did not talk about going Dutch on a date when the girl was assuming you would pay, is that the situation?"
"Pretty much… I'd actually splurged a little on flowers for her before, so I deliberately ordered something really cheap so that I'd have enough to cover my meal, but she had learned the Lois Rule so there was a lot of trouble."
"Lois Rule? Curiosity bait if I ever heard it," I complimented. "What is the Lois Rule in this case?"
"A lady's handbag or purse for a night out should only be big enough to hold her cellphone, make-up, and a folded twenty dollar bill," Jimmy recited. I snorted dismissively. "Maybe I should call it the Lucy Rule, since Lois doesn't follow it, but she's where I heard about it."
"May I start you off with anything to drink? We have a house red I recommend, or an imported rose wine," a waitress asked us.
"We're both twenty. You're twenty, right? I didn't miss your birthday?" he asked me.
"August sixteenth is when I celebrate it," I informed him.
"Tourists from abroad?" our server inquired politely. "I will need to see ID to make sure you're of age, but our drinking age is 18."
"Oh. Is-?"
"I did not know that, but I may have a glass, and you are welcome to buy a bottle," I invited. "Water to start for me, and I may order a drink to go well with my meal. I must warn you, though," I added, "I have no palate. At all. Just something sweet and fruity, average quality."
"I'll ask our sommelier about it. You've spared him the agony of seeing people with no appreciation waste fine wines," she confided in a friendly whisper to me. "The doctor says that if he keeps grinding his teeth so much, he'll need dentures by next year."
I smiled appreciatively back and turned to Jimmy. He grunted a request for one of the house-made citrus sodas. She departed.
"…Yeah," he said finally as I let the silence extend. "So, needless to say, I got dumped, and I guess I was just… twitchy, y'know, about letting you buy. This wasn't even a year ago, it was May, and I haven't had a girlfriend since then. Thanks. I do feel better," he admitted.
"Pleased to be of service," I said. "Mm. We are now faced with three or four options for our conversation, having exhausted this topic." Jimmy rolled his wrist to keep me going. "One: we can sit in silence and appreciate the sunset until the waiter comes. Two: we can talk about what to order and see where we go from there. Three: we can talk about whatever other rule in your Bro Code or Date Law is making you anxious again, after I just got you relaxed properly. Or, four: I can complain of the fiasco I had to handle with my teammates earlier."
His jaw had dropped and he'd almost said something at the third item, but I'd continued talking over him to list the fourth.
Now he was just sitting there, a little sound of uncertainty croaking out of his throat. Finally he swallowed some water.
"I was totally silent for too long to pretend I don't know what you're talking about, wasn't I?"
"Yes, but acknowledging it does not mean we have to talk about it. I do, honestly, want you to be comfortable with our conversation, and as much as I enjoy prickling at your mind until we get that bit, it is easily an exemplary case of starving crops without ash. Mm. Sorry, that should be 'too much of a good thing,' I think, in English parlance," I clarified. "Moreover, no matter what, I eventually want to get around to explaining the sheer stupid of what I had to mediate when I kept you waiting, because it is still sitting sour in my stomach. Whichever way you decide to take our conversation, you go and I follow. No tricks, no traps," I promised seriously.
Jimmy relaxed, and I relaxed after seeing it.
"Let's think about food, first, and then I'll get back to you. Is there anything you don't eat? Allergies, Pathian diet restrictions?"
'He remembered!' "You remembered I identify as Pathian, thank you," I complimented. "No dietary restrictions, but because I was mostly vegetarian for much of my life I usually try to eat meat only sparingly. That is the reason I do not expect to eat all the shrimp."
"I think shrimp are seafood, like, shellfish. Do you count those as meat?" he asked blankly. "Um, if I take you to somewhere in the future…?"
I sighed. "I try to not eat the flesh of animals in large amounts at a single meal," I spelled out directly. "I ate seafood even less than meat. Mm, as well, I think I… try to eat more organic. I am not used to chemicals and hormones. I can handle them, but organic and 'non-GMO' is less likely to give me stomach trouble. I had stomach cramps after I ate too many pork chops when the Su- when 'your pal' made them for me, and a few other times. If I had a bendalloy-mind it would not be a problem—I once won a steak-eating challenge—but I do not."
"Organic if I can, and plenty of veggies, got it," Jimmy agreed. "Pasta and carbs okay?"
"Very okay, and dairy is fine as well," I agreed.
"I guess that rules out the cleaver cut steak, then," he murmured. While I was touched, I also sighed in exasperation.
I reached out to touch his hand. "Jimmy? If you want the steak, get the steak. I still may have a few bites, and a few fewer shrimp instead, and I will order an appetizer to make up the difference. Do not… Please do not make me feel guilty if you try to help me too much."
He blinked at me owlishly. "You know, I never heard it said like that. Huh." He closed his menu. "Alright, cleaver cut it is."
He flagged down our waitress, we ordered, she suggested some pumpkin ravioli as an appetizer, I went with asparagus as well, and I got a glass of whatever fruity concoction she would recommend at a reasonable price while Jimmy got a glass of something good with beef.
"How about, I'll talk about the Bro Code awkward thing until our appetizers get here, and then we drop it, no questions asked, so you can complain about whatever happened earlier?" he suggested.
"Deal notarized," I replied, leaning forward semi-eagerly. "Which Bro Code Rule, and how silly is it?"
"Really silly, except this is also sort of common sense," he admitted with a shrug. I hummed curiously. "It's really bad form to talk about an ex on the first date, or any early date or really important date, unless you're already, like, super close." I nodded.
"Mm. In my opinion, we can talk about whatever we want to talk about, so long as we both want to. Your decision to open up to me about an embarrassing and emotionally sensitive event in your past is… significant to me, and flattering as an extension of trust." I paused, considering, and then said, "Before coming to Earth, my last boyfriend dated me because he had a Terriswoman kink."
"Ouch." Jimmy winced sympathetically. "I didn't even know you'd had that type of relationship before… I guess I haven't asked much about your life on your home world. Scadrial?"
"Scadrial, yes. I have not volunteered so much, either," I countered. "Mm. Would you like me to say more?" He thought it over.
"Maybe later, when we've done this for more than a month or two. I know you've said there's some bad stuff in your early years?" I nodded in confirmation. He continued, "You hide it pretty well, but I've still seen you get, y'know, twitchy about it. If not knowing what happened means you never have to worry about me secretly judging you for it, I can wait a while longer to learn."
He smiled, and I honest-to-Harmony felt my cheeks flush with heat. I muttered what I hoped came out as a thank you.
"Happy to. Maybe we can talk about it next Valentine's Day, or on our one-year anniversary."
I hesitated. "I do not remember what day our anniversary should be," I realized.
Jimmy laughed, and I pouted, but I really felt relieved that he wasn't upset I had missed this Earth-relationship-tradition thing.
"Guys make that mistake all the time too, so I don't know either. Want me to go back through my calendar," he offered, pulling out his cell phone, "and check? We could make it the day we met, or that day in the dinner when, uh, when CK said you did that skin thing to figure out his super secret, uh, secret? Or, that double date evening after you learned about the Anti-Life math thing, or even just today."
"Mm. We can think after dinner, I think," I decided. I heard a soft click over the restaurant's band's background music. "Did you just take a picture of me?" I inquired, shifting self-consciously to better sit in the light and, I hoped, improve my appearance if so.
He grinned awkwardly. "Confession: I've been secretly sniping pictures of you all night. You look… does radiant work?"
'That is very flattering. I have to wonder if he planned it ahead of time, but either way…' I tugged my lips into a smile. "Thank you."
"You're not mad?" he checked. I smiled wider and shook my head. "Great. Cheese!" I posed a little. "That's good. I'll send you copies later, tomorrow, but you don't need to pose for them; the casual photos look really good, so just pretend you've forgotten I'm doing it."
"Alas," I bemoaned dramatically, "I have forgotten my copper-minds tonight. I suppose I shall simply make do."
"Yeah, that's right! I forgot that's one of your powers. Hey, I know you've got those anklets on? Are they steel? Iron? Dura…?"
"Duralumin? No, they are zinc-minds, for mental acuity. Mm. Right now I can only store one trait. At all. For medical reasons. I chose zinc-minds, because there is very little that could help me fight better, so help with planning seemed like the best idea."
"Can't you do healing with your powers?" he pointed out.
"Yes, but I have to store before I can tap. If I try to store healing while I am injured, my injuries will stop healing, and they may even be exacerbated, and it will take me longer, in total, to heal than if I do not store and instead heal naturally. Especially with Motherbox's help."
"Got it. So, does your zinc-mind make you able to think faster, like the world slows down, or do you just think better? Like, some people just can't do six-digit multiplication in their heads ever, no matter how long you give them. Would they still not be able to do that because even with three hours to think about it crammed into three seconds they'd keep forgetting numbers, or would they think better?"
"There are elements of both. Primarily, tapping a zinc-mind helps me to think better and make leaps of deduction," I agreed, "but it also enables me to think somewhat faster. I suspect there are some overlaps with steel-mind and chromium-mind use as a result."
"What do those do?"
"Steel-minds allow me to store and tap speed. Mostly it is physical speed, such as muscle reactions and reflexes, but there is a Required Secondary Power," I paraphrased, mostly sure that I was using the right words for the term, "that it does cause the world to slow down to my perceptions, thus I do have some extra time to think, but I do not think better, and if I think too much it can, mm, slide by."
"Wow. So tapping speed and, uh-," I provided the word. "-acuity! Thanks. Tapping both of them together would make you really, really good at thinking fast, wouldn't it? And let you think of good things to do with that super-speed?"
"You have stumbled onto the main reason why steel and zinc are my second and third favorite metal-minds," I confirmed.
"Awesome. You said your favorite is brass, for body heat, right? You can melt ice or make frost on your skin with it?"
"Yes. I am very good with brass. Also, I did not know when I started, but I can store incredible amounts and it accumulates well."
"Accumulates? No, wait, you told me this the last time we had dinner," he remembered. "When you gives yourself a status buff, you can go up to doubling it with 100% efficiency, but after that you get a little less out than you put in. That right?"
"Correct," I complimented. "Correspondingly, when I store—which causes me to suffer 'a de-buff,' I think—then," I continued as he nodded in appreciation of my terminology, "I can only store close to zero. I cannot store all of a trait. That is another limit. Brass is special."
"Really?"
"Yes. What is 0% for body heat?" I asked significantly.
"Uh… It's probably not zero degrees Fahrenheit," he guessed. "Zero degrees Celsius is freezing, right? Human body, 70% water…?"
I shook my head. "It is possible, I think, to have weather and warmth 'below zero,' yes? Degrees are numbers. Kelvin scale?"
"Gimme a sec." I waited patiently as he got out his phone. I had the urge to pose a little, in case he was sneaking photos, but I also remembered that he had asked me not to. I compromised by turning to watch the sunset as a distraction. "…Oh. Absolute zero, is that what you mean? Whoa. Can you really store all the way to absolute zero?"
"I cannot," I conceded, " but I have not yet discovered an absolute lower limit to my brass-mind storage. However, assuming absolute zero is my lower limit, what is the upper limit for how high I can tap until it starts to accumulate?"
"One second… Human body is… Whoa." He looked up from his phone. "Human body temperature is three-hundred ten degrees Kelvin, so you could go all the way up to six-twenty for you lose out? Is that right?"
"Potentially. I do not know exact measurements, and I am uncertain how hot six hundred twenty degrees Kelvin would be," I admitted.
"It's… six-hundred fifty-six degrees Fahrenheit," he said, which slightly surprised me.
"Mm. I was expecting it to be closer to one thousand. Still… I calculate my highest brass-mind tap was to five-hundred degrees, I think."
"That's still really hot," he commented, putting his phone away. A smirk slipped across his face. "Almost as hot as you look right now." I affected a little giggle for him, and he chuckled. "Okay, I admit, that was super cornball of me, wasn't it?"
"I hardly mind," I declared. "I like it. Mm. Have I been remiss in complimenting your appearance?" I leaned forward over the table, half-lidded my eyes, and purred, "You clean up very, very nicely, Mr. Olsen." Keeping eye contact, I sipped my drink.
He blushed bright red. "I-,"
"Your appetizers have arrived. Here you go," Our waitress announced. "Call if you need anything."
"We will, thank you. They look delicious," I complimented. I served myself a few of each, and Jimmy as well. I tried one.
"Pretty good," he agreed when I gave an approving hum. We both swallowed. "Food is here, so how was your day?"
'Pity,' I sighed in my mind, 'but I did tell him to control the conversation, and he did decide… Well, I shall not complain about my chance to complain about things. I think they call it "venting" here? I just need to edit out the names….'
"I need generic names for a boy and a girl, please, to maintain their privacy."
"Amy and Bob?"
"Those will work, and thank you." I took a few minutes to relay an edited version of events: what I had walked in on, what had happened between them, and most of all my mounting frustration with how easily avoidable the well-intentioned scenario had been.
I was not shouting by the end of it, nor particularly raising my voice, but Rusts I would have liked to.
I was angry, for once, though it may have been any of many reasons. But I was angry, not just upset or irritated.
I was not used to being angry.
"It's- I know they are teenagers, and make mistakes, and I am the last person who should, mm, 'point fingers' about mistakes made in this age, but I am used to expecting better from him. I am angry at him, angry at my hypocrisy in my head, and- Ruuuusts," I growled.
He chuckled, and waved me off when I glared skeptically.
"Sorry, sorry, you're just usually so unflappable. It's nice to see you get- aw, wait, that sounds really Schadenfreud. Uhh… What I mean is, it feels nice—like what you said about me trusting you with the money fiasco that got me dumped, remember that—and it makes me feel trusted to know you can show me this bit about you actually getting really angry and not letting it roll off of you. I'm flattered."
I offered a smile and hoped it was not a grimace. Then, to be safe, I reached across the table and took his hand.
"Thank you. I would be flattered that you repeat my words back to me, but I am… Rusts, I feel so jagged about this," I grumbled.
"It's alright. You know, being not a teenager anymore doesn't mean we automatically stop doing stupid things. I'm not allowed to rent a car until 25 because guys my age are super likely to crash. Oh, and hey, our brains don't actually stop growing until then, too!"
That caught my attention. 'That sounds almost familiar… Have I read an article about this, perhaps?' "Details, please? That age…?"
"Right, right. This science article from two or three years ago, and I talked about it with some guy at a lab Lois was doing a report on about a week after I read it. Apparently, they did lots of brain studies, and it's not just hormones and stuff – well, maybe those, too – but our actual, structural, physical brain-meats don't totally stop growing until around age twenty-five. Ninety percent of what our brains will grow to look like is done around age thirteen, though, so that's why teens are more mature and you can tell things about their personalities."
"The parts that would stop teenagers from making stupid mistakes are in the remaining percent, yes?" I guessed.
"Bingo." He grinned and even did finger guns at me. I almost giggled, but my emotions were still a little too sour. "The last parts to develop deal with long-term planning, critical thinking, and the bits you use to worry about consequences."
"Mm. You have taught me something new. I had extrapolated that learning from the many mistakes of your teenage years was one source of maturity, like being burned and learning to flinch from fire, but I never knew there was a biological reason for it."
<Query. Does causation exist between marrying 'twenty-five at the earliest' & human cerebral development, or only correlation? >
"Huh? No, that was, I think, a total coincidence," I acknowledged. "Maybe sub-conscious, if I have read the article, but unintentional."
"What was sub-conscious and unintentional? Miss Motherbox just asked you something, right?" Jimmy bit off part of an asparagus.
'Oops.' "Yes. Earlier today, Motherbox was making a rhetorical comparison involving marriage vows while I was irate, and I retaliated that I did not intend to marry before age thirty, assuming I ever wed at all, or perhaps age twenty-five in special circumstances."
"Special circumstances like getting knocked up?" he joked. I immediately recognized it as an awkward not-this-subject comment, saw a flicker of alarm as he heard what he had said, and tapped zinc-mind acuity again to talk over him first.
"Barring extraordinary societal pressures and requirements," I riposted immediately before Jimmy could babble an apology, "pregnancy is one of the worst possible reasons to get married, assuming the couple desires a long-term, stable relationship. Without an existing sense of stability and intimacy, the natural stresses and changes of the months when the baby develops, is born, and settles into the world will dramatically disrupt any attempts to come to an easy accord with each other or develop their relationship reliably.
"Short of possessing extraordinary resources for support and each parent already being at ease with their own personality, simultaneous mixing of marriage and pregnancy is very, very likely to split the relationship or harm it badly within a few years," I finished.
Jimmy slowly closed his mouth, munched on another ravioli, and as I bit two off my fork in turn he finally said, "Wow, I was totally worried I'd put my foot in it. Talking about marriage early in a relationship is usually one of those other really bad ideas for staying together or not scaring the other person off." I swallowed, munched on some asparagus, and tapped a trickle more acuity again as I considered this.
"If it is early in a relationship, then you do not know each other's opinions on the topic and it can be something you find out. The only reason it would be important so early in a courtship," I reasoned, gesturing vaguely with my fork, "is if one partner or the other is intending to propose marriage while it is early in the relationship. If that is the case, then they must talk about it all the same, soon enough, and doing so before the proposal is, I firmly believe, a necessary, healthy step. If neither is planning on marriage, then it does not matter to know this fact, it is good to agree, and it may take unintentional pressure away as neither is worrying about the other's intentions."
"What if one wants to propose, and the other doesn't?" Jimmy questioned.
'I assume he is intelligent enough to answer that on his own, so either he has not thought much about it, he wants to hear my opinion, or it's simply a "feed line" for me to keep talking. He's directing the conversation in interesting ways, I admit; I'm enjoying this quite a bit.'
"Then it is good to know that, so the one who wants to marry will avoid the, mm, the fiasco of a refused proposal. Sensible?"
"I can see that… Is this you subtly hinting that you want to talk about it right now?"
"No, I am still letting you direct our conversation unless you want me to. You have said you like to see me when I discuss my opinions-," I smirked at him as I speared another ravioli on my fork. "-and I rattled off my little monologue because I did not and still do not want you apologizing for an honest comment when I am not offended. I can rattle off another dozen opinions on many subjects you may wish to broach, should you do so. This topic may be slightly more eloquently formulated, but it has been on my mind recently, as being pertinent to both our situation immediately at hand and to my teammate's teenage tragedy of a Valentine's Day surprise. Also, zinc-minds."
I chewed my pumpkin ravioli as he chewed my words over.
"I can see how I think it might apply to both of those, but I want to hear how you think it works. Hit me?"
"Certainly. Us first?" I inquired, to which he nodded. "Mm. We had not talked about Valentine's Day before, and if you had made expensive plans for a special day while I did not know to care about it and had other plans, then we both would have been upset, yes?"
"I can totally get that," he agreed. "Plus, talking it over like this is actually sort of fun, since, you know, you won't bite my head off."
'I... will give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he is talking about his cranial head, rather than genitalia slang,' I decided.
"I certainly to not want to, and having said that, if I ever do, then I want you to call me on it, please," I reassured him firmly.
"Will do. So. Marriage: not for you until you turn twenty-five and your brain stops growing, right?"
"Certainly. Now that I have learned about the brain growth information, I may amend it to 'everyone should wait until then,' too."
"I made you partially re-evaluate your guiding life's beliefs: score," he cheered drily, and we clinked glasses.
"Do you want to share your opinion?" I pressed gently. He hummed and took another sip.
"I never really had one, other than 'I feel so not ready for the ball and chain now,' even if I like the idea of settling down with the right girl in a few years or so. Woman, sorry," he corrected before I could say anything. "I remember you hate calling grown women 'girls'."
"Thank you. Mm." 'Where was our conversation before this…? Robin and Zatanna! Or, Bob and Amy, I think.' "The Valentine's Day talk and the wedding talk are also, as I mentioned, similar to my two friends' problems. Well-intentioned lack of communication."
"Yeah. Ouch," he agreed. "She liked the idea behind it, but she totally would've shot him down if he asked for permission."
"Certainly, or she said so, at least. It remains entirely possible that, as they are both teenagers with undeveloped brains, she would have enjoyed the idea and agreed without thinking of the consequences. Even then, however, that means that suffering the consequences would have united them in the learning experience, as they were both responsible for approval of the plot, rather than dividing them."
"Point. Do you think they're going to split up?" he inquired. I gestured for him to wait, and ate some asparagus.
"…I honestly prefer to not attempt a guess. I can see it going either way, and it may heavily depend on how her school handles the events, her classmates, the rest of our teammates, and our mentors. Things should be tense for some time, but after it is less fresh…."
"Time heals all wounds, huh? That makes sense. I remember you said Kid Flash got money off of you in exchange for finding this place, so how do you think he'll do today?"
"Again, I have no way to guess. It will depend almost entirely on how she responds, and the very specifics of what he has planned."
"Well, good luck to him, then. You said he's your best friend?" I nodded. "A toast to them, then."
"And a toast to us," I agreed, clinking glasses. 'Yum. I'm pleasingly warm now, but I think I could handle 4-5 of these safely.'
"How do you think Clark and Lois are going to go, now that she knows?" he wondered. "I know, you can't guess, but take a shot."
"Mm… I predict they will eventually break up after a month or two," I decided. "The Su- Clark did lie to her for a decade, despite their friendship, and she should not easily forget that. Worse, he may be in the habit of lying, which may make her irate if he cannot catch himself. The most negative aspect, however, is that he told her – and later you – in the aftermath of emotionally stressful mind-control."
"Geez, you do make it sound bad like that. I hope it turns out better… Who do you think will end it, if they do split? Lois, Clark?"
"If I must hypothesize, I suspect they will have a breaking point where they are both upset and agree to end it mutually," I decided.
"Maybe. Given how forceful Lois is, I can sort of imagine her dumping him, and then him doing this big, y'know, Super big gesture to win her back, like skywriting in the clouds or proposing on a stadium Jumbo-tron, though you imagine he'd have bigger things he could do."
The first one had interested me, but the second option prompted me to scowl as I remembered a conversation topic Diana, Rose, and the rest of us had thoroughly discussed at length during our week of traveling to Erebus.
"If he ever pulls something that shitty and manipulative, as his friend I will consider it my duty to happily slap sense into him by whatever means necessary; it will still probably be more mild than what the Wonder Woman would do to him after that," I declared.
"Huh? Am I missing something?" Jimmy asked blankly. He held up a finger. "Wait, don't explain, I want to try figuring it out." Obligingly, I closed my mouth, sipped my drink, and waited. "You're calling public proposals shitty and manipulative… See many rom-coms?"
"Enough to be skeptical," I agreed drily. 'I think he's probably figured it out.' "I know I would not want one. Would you? Yet, with numerous witnesses it strikes me as very difficult, I think, to say no. Additionally, what if it is a practical problem, not emotional?"
Jimmy slowly nodded. "I totally get the first part, because being put on the spot like that would be freaky, and I know I'd be too scared of being turned down unless we'd talked about it already to risk it, but what are you thinking of as 'a practical problem'?"
I tapped zinc. "Adult woman moves into a city, gets a job, meets a man, and they begin courting. The relationship progresses well for a few years; he, mm, maybe he is a politician or a shopkeeper with his own business, and she, in honor of the Lois Lane, may be a journalist.
"The relationship grows serious. She meets his family on the coast one Christmas, and she takes him to her parents' farm," I decided, as we'd been discussing Lois with the Superman and the Kent farm was on my mind, "and they discuss moving in together. She likes her freedom, she likes to travel, and she feels marriage would be too big an obligation in her life at that time, while he has the 'itch out of his feet' and he worries about losing her to a more attractive man she meets while away."
"You totally just gender-swapped Clark and Lois, didn't you?" Jimmy accused. I smiled mysteriously.
"She comes back from one journey in distress, abruptly cuts ties with him for a few days, and he fears that he has lost her," I continued to narrate, releasing my zinc-mind now I had the whole story in my head. "He hurriedly buys a ring, if he has not done so already, and makes arrangements, and tries to call her when she does not pick up. Almost a week after that, she finally answers, saying they need to have a serious conversation. 'I have to show her how much I love her,' he resolves, and calls a fancy restaurant to make arrangements.
"Picture this," I whisper. "Tables across a tile floor, an empty area for dancing, and a piano man to play live music. No," I added as he glanced around curiously, "there is no secret significance to any resemblance you see here except convenient imaginings. But. They go, they talk in low voices, and when she tries to broach the subject early he replies that he also has an important question, but they should wait.
"Their wine arrives, she keeps glancing around nervously, and the lead singer has begun walking around the floor as the music plays. One song finishes, and in between melodies he has neared their table. He makes a comment, an excuse to ask one patron a question with the microphone. Next, a different one. The third time, he gives his feed line, hands the microphone to the man, and our would-be husband drops to one knee under the spotlight, produces his ring, and offers a heartfelt, gooey speech about his love for her. What then?"
"Oh yeah, I'm seeing all sorts of warning signs," Jimmy agreed. "What's the catch? You're way too wily to have her actually be cheating on him; whatever the secret is will be totally understandable and relatable, and he would've known better if she'd gone first. Spill, spill."
I drained the last of my drink, savoring the imaginary construction, even as his prediction impressed me.
"What he does not know," I revealed, "is that her parents on the farm have had something happen. Mm. A home invasion, or a car crash, or a fall… She feels filial piety as a result, and is planning to return home and care for them, potentially for a year or two, and is in no fit state for advancing a relationship, especially as he cannot leave the city due to his business profession. So, what does she say to him?"
"Geez," Jimmy mused. "What to say… Well, from the guy's point of view, the best outcome would be if she said yes, pretended to be happy, and then hit him with all this after they left the restaurant. But for her… Hoo-boy. Probably she should stammer something like, 'I can't deal with this, not now,' and run out, which will spare her having to get hurt more refusing him. Just cut and run.
"Either way," he concluded, "you made it pretty clear that both the guy and the girl have issues in spades on top of the practical."
I paused, took a drink of ice water, and then said, "What do you mean by that specifically?"
"Well, she went quiet for a week instead of telling him upfront. I can totally understand it, processing, but we've just been talking about sharing your grief and anger along with your joy, and she didn't. So, problems on all sides there?" He shifted a touch nervously.
Maintaining eye contact, I took a long slow drink of my ice water. I lowered the glass again, wiped my mouth, and nodded.
"I honestly did not consider that when I devised the narrative," I informed him, "but you are correct. That is a valid extrapolation of my stated opinion on this subject, and-," I reached across the table to take his hand. "-you have impressed me by taking note of it."
He flushed, squeezed my hand back, and ran his thumb over my knuckles. "I'd thought it was on purpose."
I shrugged. "It is entirely within my range of ability, but no, not this time." My eyes caught a glimpse of movement in a reflection.
"I have your food here! Let me take these out of your way… Would you like more refills of your drinks?" our waitress offered.
"Yes, please," I agreed. We had just enough time to take a few exploratory bites before she was back with the refills, but then she was gone again. He fed me a piece of his buttered steak from his fork, and I flirted back by hand-feeding him a few slices of fruit.
"Tastes good."
"Yes," I agreed. We ate a bit more, until the urge to talk finally got to him.
"That means public proposals are always a big no for you? No exceptions? Not that I disagree, I'm just curious."
"Almost always. Mm, the Wonder Woman has a long, detailed list of incidents in a speech, and there are pamphlets she keeps, I think, but if you pull up a web search for Public Marriage Proposal Refusals you will find plenty of examples. Try it, I dare you."
Jimmy did, in fact, pull out his phone, run a search (on what I assumed was my suggested topic), and spend a few minutes reading as I picked through the fruit platter and crunched a couple of the shrimp.
"Wow," he chuckled disbelievingly, "that was worse than I'd imagined."
I nodded emphatically. "As I said, the Wonder Woman has a long list of complaints about the practice."
"Yeah, I remember her once- oh, wow. So much of my life suddenly make sense," Jimmy laughed. I hummed inquisitively at him. "Here's the story: there was this one time we were in a bank robbery, and I triggered my signal watch, but Wonder Woman showed up to save us. She said Superman was busy but he'd alerted the Justice League. This stuff came up because one of the crooks called her a lesbian, among other terms, and she had this short little speech about the word coming from the Greek island of Lesbos, and being proud of her heritage regardless of whom she loved. I thought of that, and it just hit me why it was Wonder Woman who came.
"When I asked you-know-who about it later, he said he was busy holding things together and apologized that he couldn't make it, and I said it was no problem. This was, like, two years ago. I only just now realized that C.K. was in the bank with me, and what that meant," he cackled. I laughed as well, until his laughter wound down. "I suppose it shouldn't be funny," he murmured. "The bank robbers shot a couple people as examples, or warnings or whatever, just innocent people standing around, and one woman got shot in the leg."
"The leg like her knee, or the leg like the inside blood vessel?" I inquired more seriously. 'There're large blood vessels near the groin'
"Yeah, femoral artery. Clark was busy sneaking over to her and using both hands to apply pressure so she didn't bleed out. I guess it must've been really bad if he- I mean he was probably using his strength to apply pressure, so… wow. Just, wow," he murmured.
"I feel similar, I think, when I learn more about modern technology on Earth," I related.
"Yeah," Jimmy chuckled. "When I imagine trying to travel back in time and explain the Internet, or television… That's when it really hits me how little I know about technology, the screens and pixels and coding, or even the chemicals in light-exposure film cameras."
"Mm. To knowing our own ignorance, and trying to fix it," I toasted.
"As hopeless a task as it may be," he agreed, with a clink and drink.
Not that you're wrong. 
), but he hasn't walked out of his association with Superman unchanged.
