Why? What’s out there that I can’t fight off?
Ever considered the times when you're not there? You're not waiting for them to hurt me before you take action, are you?

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@maxinehales
Why? What’s out there that I can’t fight off?
Ever considered the times when you're not there? You're not waiting for them to hurt me before you take action, are you?
[Before hearing her question, Brendan only felt a tap, and immediately went into defense mode. He stood, fists at his side and ready, before noticing it was Maxine. He then loosened his fists.] There’s no better way to kill time, I think.
Fair enough.
You should teach me how to fight.
Wow. [She walks over and taps his ass.]
When are you not working out?
"It isn’t of any importance wheter I deserve it or not. It was in the past and there is nothing I could do about it in the present. I was foolish to see the good in him, even after all that happened. It was my own mistake for comming over to his place. I have walked my own dead." [She drew out a long breath after what seemed to her like forever. Perhaps it wasn’t a wise choice to shed light upon her own thought towards someone else. Yet then again, there couldn’t be a faith much worse then dead.] "I may hope your dead was more… civilized."
[Her lips curled down in disappointment, subtly shaking her head at Rowena's story--not because of her judgement, but the overall situation.] I think it varies. I'm sure there are a lot of people here who died from foul play at an older century. Mine wouldn't count, since I got into the car with my own will before we crashed. [Her gaze dragged to the ground.]
It's A Little Selfish - Maxine & Gunther
He took the glass, drawing it to his lips gingerly an carefully drinking it, not sipping as he usually would. The whisky would help take the edge off his pain, for where the ice left sore.
He took a pensive drag of his cigarette at her question. After the decades went by, he had conditioned himself to keep it far in the back of his mind. Too many years were spent antagonizing over things left undone before he was captured. "I was.. unofficially engaged," he finally replied, taking another gulp of the liquor.
"I hadn't gotten the chance to ask her father before I was captured," he explained distantly with a sigh, which held only a hint of annoyance, but mostly disappointment. Truthfully, he had been avoiding asking Karla's father, intimidated by the man. Maybe if he had simply manned up and asked, there would have been one more pleasurable moment for him to reflect on in death.
But there stood only room for regret.
"Mm..." Her hand reached up and rested under her cheek against the cushion. It was something she only remembered seeing in the movies; men who had ambitions but weren't able to fulfill them because they were shipped out to war. There was one or two at the most, the titles far beyond her memory.
But that's great. That you had someone to think about and motivate you throughout the day. That's what she wanted to say. She would have said it if it didn't bring back memories of her only relationship. Ian didn't really motivate her per se, but he was a decent companion. Someone she looked forward to seeing, until the very end. Yet another thing she thought she was done with, but really wasn't. "What luck we have," she commented in monotone, looking at the wall past him as she took another sip.
"Sometimes I wonder, if I wasn't in that car crash--would I have found someone immediately after going off to college, or would I push it aside until I got an actual job? If It would've been different from my first relationship or all the same. The latter would be horrible." She trailed off again, swimming in her thoughts. It most likely wouldn't have been the same as Ian, because she would've picked someone with a completely different attitude. Then again, people could be completely different with friends and with relationships.
Hear Me | Maxine & Riley
Riley wanted to touch it. Her. Touch—touch her, there, where her hand tried to hold all the blood in. He wanted to help her hold all the blood in, but nobody could really do that, and it probably hurt something awful, didn’t it? He remembered a foggy flash of conversation in grade school about stomach acid and how it burned all your insides right up. How much he hated puking.
He made a move to put her hand over her hand over her gut, but only hovered there and then pulled it back. Did she just—did she, did—? It was kinda hard to hear her ‘cause her voice was so dry and thick with tears. He could’ve misheard. Except she was pulling at his arm to keep herself up, and she wouldn’t even look at him as she said it, and he just knew he’d gotten it right the first time. She hadn’t tripped or fallen; this wasn’t an accident, some self-inflicted clumsy spill. A person did this. This was a person.
This was Luke.
He fancied himself something romantic, Riley. Maybe not, you know, Andrew McCarthy with the car and the face—maybe more Anthony Michael Hall—but he definitely had a touch of Lloyd Dobler. And if anyone ever even talked bad about a girl he really cared about, he always liked to think he’d get all chivalrous and mad. But when Maxine stood there in the snow with his shirt-sleeve in her fingers and closed her eyes and said it, Riley didn’t feel angry at all. He just felt sick. Sick, helpless, and scared.
Great way to feel if you’re supposed to be someone’s hero. He picked a spot in the snow to stare at so he wouldn’t start crying too, or whatever, and she was begging to go home before he looked back. She was so pretty. Even bloodied and pink-nosed, even too weak to stand. And he wanted to take her home like she asked, but his place was so much closer, just over his shoulder. “Okay.” He nodded once, twice, five times. “Okay, yeah. Yeah. I’m just—I’m right there,” he said, pointing behind him where his footprint trail ended. “Is that okay? If we—if we go there?”
It was another question that didn’t need to be asked, and he tried to blink off his massive stupidity. Dipstick, he thought. And then he was sadder. God, he had so much Lloyd Dobler in him. “Try not to, uh… move? A lot?” Or was that spine injuries? Or was that head wounds? Whatever. it didn’t matter. They were trudging slowly, he was trying not to walk too fast or take his hands off her or say anything else that might show how completely useless he was right now. It was a quick walk. It was the longest quick walk he’d ever had.
She didn't object when she looked over her shoulder to see where he pointed, nodding briefly. His place, she assumed. Yes. Wonderful. Again, anywhere that wasn't outside worked. Just, God, she was losing herself. Maxine shifted a little in his hold so that she was able to be guided over to the door, which felt like hours; one hour a step. But they did eventually make it a dozen steps later.
The warmth that hugged Maxine's body upon stepping inside made her let out a sigh, her eyes fluttering closed for a second or two. There was a touch of relief--just a touch. The rest of it would come whenever and if ever they get the immense pain and bleeding to stop. Wait, did Riley even know what to do with her?
Her eyes wandered around, and she darted them towards the ground every now and then before she could trip over some article of clothing. Good thing Riley was there to hold her up. Her jaw clenched when she felt that inevitable jab of pain, grunting. "Fuck," she hissed, taking in a breath. Who would've thought the most painful thing she'd ever experience was from someone other than the gods? It was shocking and frustrating and everything just sucked.
But after a few more moments she was lying back against the soft cushion of a couch, scraping away another smidge of worry. She glanced down at the area, blood dominating almost every inch of her jacket. She made an effort to peel away her hand and hoped for the best.
It's A Little Selfish - Maxine & Gunther
Sitting forward, he fumbled into his coat pocket, pulling out his stolen pack of cigarettes. “You died, right?” He rhetorically asked, hanging a stick from his mouth while he searched for his lighter. He pulled it out, lighting his smoke while he casually stated, “Ending of your life is something to whine about.” He blew out the smoke while he leaned back on the sofa, looking back up to Maxine. Perhaps she wasn’t from a war-torn country like he was, but she lived and died. And as far as he was concerned, a young death was a tragedy. After all, she was from a different time. “Especially when it’s out of your control,”
He gave a heavy sigh when she offered him a drink. He should leave, the thought crossed his mind. This was all too friendly, but even as he had the feeling of not wanting to allow it, the thought of going back to his empty apartment was staggering. Gunther had grown tired of his years of solitude and it kept him here. “Whisky, if you have some. Would be excellent,” he responded against his better judgement. “Or I’ll take whatever alcohol you have.”
She could only manage to reply to his statement with a feeble smile. Growing up, she had always been the one to keep her cool when she had problems. Maxine was the laid back, go with the flow type of person, which most of the time made her seem like she just didn't want to deal with responsibilities. It was half true--she was a huge procrastinator amongst procrastinators, but she tried her best. What she lacked was motivation, and this lack of motivation drove her to the wrong crowd. It hadn't always been out of her control. That was where the disappoint came in.
"Alright," she exhaled through her nose and peeled herself off the couch, leaving the ice on the arm rest. The redhead ran her hand through her hair, leaving it buried in her auburn locks as she walked back to the kitchen. Upon opening the refrigerator, she looked around, her blue eyes swept through the labels. "I have beer," she mentioned, searching intently. However, she knew she had asked for whiskey at some point. Maybe she forgot about it and it was still sitting in the cabinet--so she grabbed a bottle of water for herself and checked there.
And there it was, untouched at the top shelf. Maxine made an effort to take it out and set it on the counter top, where she grabbed two glasses and poured the liquor straight. With her water in one hand and whiskey in the other, she made her way back to her spot on the couch and handed him his drink. She moved to face him as she rest back, taking a sip of water. The smell of smoke lingered above. "Were you married?" The question popped into her mind back when he asked if she was a mother.
It's A Little Selfish - Maxine & Gunther
If his face wasn’t already reddened from his beating and the numbing ice that had been periodically applied, a blush would have shown. He could feel his face grow hotter however, his eye glancing back to Maxine, almost in surprise. Her implications were bold, a lot more forward than he was used to dealing with. Gunther timidly ran his tongue over his swollen lip, before stammering, “I-I wasn’t…” He broke eye contact and gave a defiant frown. There was something inciting in that smirk he couldn’t deny.
Eyes flickered back onto her when she continued answering him. He cocked his head slightly, “A woman baring children labels her as a misguided whore?” He asked with disbelief, his brow attempting to furrow against his injuries. It caused him to wince and give a short, annoyed grunt. “Married young? It’s not as if women were thirteen or anything when they got married, no, they weren’t really young…” How old was Maxine, he wondered. She did definitely look old enough to marry and even have a child, maybe two. “Are you ‘young’?” he inquired.
Maxine dismissed the subtle satisfaction of flustering Gunther as he answered her question. “Mm, I see.” She nodded, and licked her lips pensively when he shot a question back. She glanced away briefly and looked at him again. “Nineteen. I was a legal adult, just too young to marry.” Although, people getting married at nineteen did happen—just not as often for people to think of it as normal. “I was finally setting my life straight and my past came back to bite me,” she added. Hard enough to get her killed. “Parents weren’t around to guide me. I screwed myself over from the beginning with bad choices.”
She shook her head once more, realizing that she was rambling on about shit he couldn’t care less about. “It’s whatever, though. I sound like a whiny child.” She waved it away, not wanting to think about it. ” All she could ever do about it was regret every decision she made that put her in her situation now. It was no use. Maxine set the ice on her lap, eyes distant. “I’m getting something to drink. Did you want anything?” She asked, focusing back on him.
It's A Little Selfish - Maxine & Gunther
"Freedom of speech is no excuse for disrespect," He mumbled in response, a ting of annoyance from her freedom lecture. Perhaps freedom yielded disrespect, he wondered. But there was more than that which went into the future’s lack of etiquette, he had imagined.
He rolled his eyes a little as she persisted to take his side. Foolish of her. This wouldn’t make him like her any better, Gunther assured himself. If this was some way to bridge the gap between them, it wouldn’t work. He appreciated the help, but he wasn’t going to fall for it. At least, that’s what he insisted to himself.
The fingertips grazing across his skin caused him to tense ever-so-slightly, his eye darting towards Maxine. The delicacy of her touch was comforting. Even though she touched sore flesh, it wasn’t painful with how lightly she touched. “You’re rather good at this,” He commented gruffly, his eye focusing on the coffee table. “Were you a mother?”
Maxine casually shrugged. There were a lot of things they were never going to agree on, she knew that. Nothing she could do about it. She kept quiet as he acted out his signature defiant mannerisms, focusing on the task at hand. He was lucky she was in the mood to be patient, 'else she would've bruised every other place that was fine. Probably not, because you can never fight fire with fire. She wasn't stupid. Besides, they weren't there to discuss about freedom or etiquette, or to host a pity party--they were there because she was doing him a favor, on her own free will.
She choked on her breath at the mention of mother, withdrawing her empty hand and touching her knuckles to her lips as she cleared her throat at the side. She straightened herself. "Mother," she repeated, pressing her lips together at the thought. No, she wasn't mother material. Come to think of it, she lost the ability to grow into that kind of mentality. "Why--you interested?" A smirk curled her lips, and she shook her head.
"Flattering, but no. If I had kids around the age I died, I would've been labeled some misguided whore. Women in your time married young, though, didn't they?"
…Sorry.
Don't worry about it.
Excuse me…
"We shouldn’t worry about at that hasn’t begun yet. Worrying about the unknown is only making us worried. Better live in the present and worry about tomorrow when it comes." [Shows a gentle smile in the hope she could reassure her.] "You may ask. I have come to terms with it a while ago. I was murdered. Posion. When I still lived, there was a young man who desired to be my husband. He desired to have me and if he couldn’t get me, none would either. This was his revenge."
[Maxine nodded obediently, trusting the woman's words. She was the type to be trusted. She seemed like it. At the mention of her story, she furrowed her eyebrows.] Poison? From some guy that stalked you? That's real upsetting and I'm very sorry. [She was lucky she came from a time where the culprit was always found out. Where a man couldn't just do whatever he wanted to a woman and expect to get away with it.] You didn't deserve it at all.
It's A Little Selfish - Maxine & Gunther
The German would have shook his head at her dismissing his cursing—if it was possible to do without causing piercing agony. “I guess it doesn’t… mean much in future years,” He replied, wincing half way through his sentence. Gunther, however, was always very keen to keep himself respectful around women. Growing up with his two sisters and mother, she always made sure that he minded his manners when addressing ladies.
Maxine wasn’t really the idea of a lady that his mother referenced to. Not the type of lady the German usually dealt with at all. Not in life, anyway. All the women from years after his death were a lot more mouthy, spoke up exactly what they thought and didn’t give two shits. They swore, they smoked, drank—they acted completely independent. It was dreadfully annoying to deal with, but somehow strangely intriguing. Enticing.
He laughed when she said no one deserved to be left out there, but retaliated with a grunt as moving his face so much caused pain. Wouldn’t be the first time, he bitterly replied to himself. Not that she cared, or he would be willing to admit it. As far as everyone knew, Gunther died as a brave soldier in the line of battle. Not as some starved, broken and will-less prisoner treated as poorly as a Jew deserved in his last days.
"Not even me?" The words didn’t hint at any type of self-pity, but held his usual condescending tone, challenging her. He saw everyone else as his enemy and they—at least from what he understood—viewed him as a historical monster one way or another. Gunther was sure if anyone else had walked by, they would have investigated his situation and spat on him. After all, that’s what he would have done.
"It's this thing about freedom of speech. It never became a problem unless someone made it one. Otherwise, people didn't care. Where I lived, everyone was in their own personal bubble." Californians turned out to be more aloof with people they passed by--not all of them, but enough to make her think of it as a general thing.
"Not even me?"
Her hand pressed the ice to his skin for another second or two before she pulled away. Maxine rest her hands on her lap, clutching the cold, damp bulk in her hand. She didn't break eye contact with him, her lips a straight line as she bit her tongue. If there was one thing she could recall from World War Two, it was that no matter what position people were in, they were just following orders. They were doing it for their families. They were brainwashed into glorifying this idea of victory.
"Not even you. I mean it." She held a serious tone, her gaze soft--the opposite of their last encounter. She thought she was going to keep her hard look when she'd meet him again, like she did with Luke. However, it was hard to keep something up that you would eventually get tired with. If she didn't start forgiving him for his past mistakes, who would?
The redhead brought an empty hand to his face, her fingertips skimming over the areas that had dried quickly. It was an improvement from what he looked like when they first stumbled in, wiping most of the blood away. Still, she brought the chill back to his face before the pain came back again.
Yes. It was an unfortunant event. Let’s pray it shall not happen again. Not in the near future that is.
Yeah--pray while we can. So far it's been working, I guess? I just feel like we're gonna get hit with something harder next time. [She shook her head, smoothing out her hair. She looked for another topic to talk about.] Sorry if this is ... straightforward, but, how did you get here? [As if that was a better discussion.]
I wouldn't say that. [Julie sighed, looking up into the sky.] They don't like any of us. If they did, we wouldn't be here. [Pauses for a moment.] No, I think I might go a little harder with the partying next time. At least then, I'll actually forget about the stupid things I did the night before.
I meant in their own twisted way, but--who knows, right? [She chuckles and shakes her head.] Oh, by all means, be my guest. We held that party to relax, not worry about anything. Next time around I'll hang out with you more.
It's A Little Selfish - Maxine & Gunther
He only made a faint hissing noise when she first applied the ice. It was painfully cold, the pressure of it against his freshly swollen face and broken nose alarming. After that making sure he didn't show any signs of discomfort--even clenching his jaw hurt. He didn't want to exhibit his pain to her.
"Fucking faggot attacked me," he lied, drawing back as she reapplied the cloth with a hiss, "Careful!" Blood from his nose was getting into his mouth, but he swallowed it. Gunther had already swallowed enough blood from his broken teeth to make him feel sick, but he ignored it. "Accused me of steal his shit."
The German suddenly realised his vulgarity in front of her, "Sorry," he mumbled, "I don't mean to be so foul." He opened the eyes that would still do so, watching Maxine brush the hair out of her face. She was still only vague shapes, but in the lighting of the apartment, he could make out more colours. "Why... are you doing this?" He asked, his voice strained as he tried to hide his pain.
And lash out, he did. Maxine was used to people yelling, drunk off their asses, but this guy was so abrupt, so unexpected. She flinched at every word he spat, as if she was dodging them. That was right--they used faggot just as often as they did in her time. It was something that her friends loosely used. There were a lot of words loosely used thrown around in her environment that made her numb to offense. As long as they weren't directed toward her.
Maxine shook her head, regardless of whether he could see her or not. "Don't worry about it." Vulgarity had been her life. There wasn't any difference if someone from the past showed it. She tongued the inside of her cheek as she brushed the thumb of her free hand against his other cheek, wiping away the drops of blood that scattered from his nose.
"I saw a man lying in the snow, his face cut up, swollen, and the first thing on my mind was to help him. So I did it." She tilted her head slightly, her eyelids lowered as she continued her work. "No one deserves to suffer out there." She sighed through her nose, noticing the red spreading on the white cloth.
It's A Little Selfish - Maxine & Gunther
The couch came as a relief once he was lain on it. His face was still a swollen, radiating epicenter of pain, however. He needed something cold on it, he knew. "Do you have a steak?" Gunther asked as he rolled back into the soft plush of the couch. "Maybe two..."
Normally, he would expect a woman to know exactly what to do in this situation, but Maxine was from another time. From what he had witnessed with the women from future generations was their lack of... Well, what Gunther could only refer to as womanhood. They had no sense of being a true lady.
While she shuffled around to find things to, he assumed, patch him up, he gazed at the distant ceiling above him. The pressure building in his face was so intense he would rather just take a coping saw to it and completely remove the front of his skull. He let out a groan, wondering how long it would take to heal. The German would be unable to leave his apartment until the marks were gone. There was no way he was letting that Soviet have the sweet satisfaction of seeing the damage he caused.
Ice, cloth, water. She made her way to the small space that served for a kitchen and took out some ice cubes from the refrigerator. From the front of the room she heard him ask for something, his accent prominent above her rustling. "I don't, sorry." What was she, a five-star restaurant? Even so, she didn't have any steak. "The gods haven't been as generous. They're probably on vacation, left us to survive on our own and are expecting to come back to a lot of damage."
She obtained a hand towel and damped it with water, she wrapped the the ice cubes in it. Again, she hurried off, and sat down beside the guy, examining his face. Gently, she told herself, reaching over and touching the ice to his face. She tried to recall how she cleaned up Riley, though that situation was a little different. He didn't have a black eye or a messed up lip. Still, some knowledge was better than none.
After a while, she withdrew the ice, brushing stray strands of hair from her eyes and tucking them behind her ear. "Did you make the first swing or him?" The question she shooed in the back of her mind popped up again, this time leaving her system. Maxine waited a few more seconds before applying the bulk to his skin once more. Her expression was calm, drawn to her work. She wanted to make sure her assistance was up to par, aware of his tendency for condescending remarks.