Hours passed. He had almost forgotten all about the convention massacre, his mind on other soon to be pursuits, when his phone gave a chime. It was a text.
"I'm alive. Did you make it out?" She survived. How? He immediately wanted to know every detail, it was rare he had an opportunity to follow up with a subject after an event of this size. Then again, if he seemed too eager it may tip her off. He contemplated for a moment and then typed a reply.
"I forgot a book in my car. I was in the garage when it happened. I'm glad you're alright." He didn't have to wait long for her response.
"It was a mad house. You're lucky." Yes, lucky. He couldn't help but laugh outright at her choice of words, muttering out loud "you have no idea." His fingers danced across the phone screen.
"I saw a lot of people being taken to the hospital. You're not injured are you?"
"No. I'm fine. Are you local or did you fly in?" Oh. He hadn't thought of that. If the girl wasn't from in town, he may need to secure a more time efficient manner of interview. Something with more...permanence. He would need to act fast.
"I'm local. Would you allow me to buy you dinner before you leave? Seems like the least I could do, if you're up for it tomorrow?" Too forward? Too much? Offered too soon? He didn't realize he was holding his breath until the phone pinged a reply.
"I doubt I'd be good company at this point. But then a girl's got to eat." She was thinking about it, at least. His fingers hovered over the keypad, trying to decide how best to reply. If he pushed too much, it would literally push her away. Before he could find the right words, the phone went off again.
"Sure. That sounds nice actually." His smile was less radiant and more a jagged crack across an aged face, but it slipped into place easily as he sent a time and location. She aggreed.
"I hope you're able to get some rest tonight." It might be her last opportunity for some time to come.
"Thanks, back at you." He let the conversation die out. There was much to prepare before tomorrow.
—
The small family run Italian place wasn't selected for the food. Oh the food was decent, don't be mistaken, but more importantly it was near one of his labs. Getting her there would prove not very difficult, even if he had only had a single day to plan for it. He could have simply had her grabbed on arrival, true, but he wanted to know how much he could get out of her in a more lenient environment. Understanding how a subject behaves in a relaxed environment prior to introducing new stress factors could prove a useful control.
He was early, of course, though she herself was dropped off five minutes until their agreed upon time. He noted that she had not driven her own vehicle, this might be even easier than he had anticipated. Maia wore an ankle length dress in a soft black fabric, red flowers painted across it in sweeping designs, the sleeves reached her elbows and her hair was still pulled back into a long braid. Modest, the colors suited her tanned skin.
She reminded him instantly of a classic painting, soft and striking at the same time. The professional attire had been designed to make her appear more petite, but the casually draped dress revealed a figure worthy of the classics she had brought to mind. Her smile wasn't as bold as it had been prior. The events of the prior day had clearly held an effect after all. When she moved closer he could see the dark circles around her eyes were deeper set. He doubted she slept at all. Then again, neither had he. He didn't clean up half as nicely anyways, age and a life fighting heroes or living in asylums had not been kind to him, never mind the disguise of normality he was wearing now.
"I never caught a first name for you, Professor. And I know many professors, I might get a bit confused." Oh, right. Dare he give a real name? She already knew Crane, it would be easy to shed the disguise altogether with his real name given.
"Our meeting was touch and go. Matthew."
"That's not much better, I know at least ten Matts!" The laughter was back, as she extended a hand to properly shake his with some youthful vigor.
"Good to meet you more properly, I suppose using your last name would work best if that's alright?"
"Perfectly fine. Shall we?" Her expression warmed up all the further and spine straightened, she stepped through the door he held open with a nod.
"This isn't too far from my place, actually. Not walking distance, but not far. I might be a regular if it's any good. If not, we know who to blame." Himself, evidently.
"I thought you were waiting on your plane?"
"You'll notice I've said no such thing." So she hadn't. He had assumed.
Table for two, they were led into the establishment and settled down into a booth. It wasn't incredibly busy. Three other tables held occupants at this hour. His eyes scanned the location, hers watched him.
"Are we all one of your experiments?" His icy gaze snapped back to her, testing if she knew precisely what she was saying, but her posture was still relaxed instead of guarded.
"Perhaps. Is it wrong to desire understanding of your fellow man?" He provided.
"If it were we would both be in trouble." The smile returned to his face as the waiter came by to collect drink orders.
"Hi, my name is Michael and I'll be taking care of you tonight. Can we start out with any drinks? Appetizers?" Her chipper regard met him first,
"Tea, if you have it. I don't care which kind. Surprise me."
"Water will be fine for me." He glanced her way but she didn't express any interest in an appetizer, and neither did he much care for them. The waiter nodded and went to fill the orders. How long had it been since he had eaten out like this? True, he often grabbed food to go. But actually sat down? Before his criminal days. True, he had contemplated it when in disguise, but ultimately found his time and money best spent elsewhere. He wasn't particularly interested in the food. She, on the other hand, poured over the menu with some focus, before nodding and placing it aside.
"So, psychology? Which area of focus?"
"My studies mostly focus on the amygdala. The fear segment of the brain."
"Aaaah, terror, is it? An interesting choice. You might be disappointed you weren't there proper yesterday. Might have been good for your studies." He had to work to keep his common man disguise in place, lowering his voice to illustrate the gravity of what she was joking about.
"People died, Miss Badi."
"And we, are not among them. There's no sense in wasting an opportunity when it is provided, is all I mean."
"Silver lining?"
"So to speak. They call me aggressively positive for better or worse."
"So I can see."
"Suddenly having second thoughts on inviting me out?" Her expression turned intense, waiting, as the waiter brought their drinks. Having second thoughts? She said it as if that would be a normal reaction. As if she expected it. She was waiting for him to say yes, to get up and go.
"Not at all." He ordered the chicken Parmesan and she asked to be surprised with something sea food related. No food allergies to be concerned with. She received a warm chamomile tea for her beverage gladly. Their waiter left them and he picked up the conversation.
He leaned in, palms on the table, lowering his voice to stay between them. Her own posture stayed relaxed and open, back to the booth comfortably.
"Is that truly how you feel?"
"I feel we must often make the best we can out of tragedy." He let that settle. The silence didn't bother her. His full focus didn't make her flinch, shiver, or shrink away. Even oblivious strangers often knew enough instinctively to do so, but she was truly dense. He broke the silence and leaned back into his own seat, his voice coming in the smooth lulling notes he reserved for therapy sessions.
"Then perhaps you would not mind enlightening me with your own experience. If nothing else, discussing such events openly can aid in addressing them. It's never good to bottle something up."
"You're not my therapist, you know." It was light hearted, sipping at the steaming liquid in her cup,
"But I suppose there's no harm.
I was in the middle of my lecture, and tried to ease the crowd with a joke. As that green fog rolled in, I asked who had jumped ahead to our segment on witches, which got a chuckle at least. When it hit us things got...peculiar. I could tell right away it must have been laced with a hallucinogen, the process is not unfamiliar to me. I tried to play it off as an interactive segment, describing the oncoming trance state, as if it were a planned shamanistic experience." Now that, was an interesting reaction and approach. Something new, to be sure, that he had yet to hear any of his subjects describe or think about. The interest was written on his face as plainly as it laced his voice,
"What happened?"
"It didn't work. I shouldn't be surprised. No offense, but most white folks and city dwellers aren't equipped for a spiritual experience that intense. They devolved into madness, and I knew better than to try further. I crawled under the stage in the front and waited out the bad trip outside of their notice. Eventually paramedics and police arrived to restore order."
He had to take a minute to digest all of that. So she treated it like a spiritual experience? She knew to go somewhere she wouldn't be noticed or hurt, somewhere the others wouldn't think about looking. She had experience with hallucinogenic drugs, and from the sounds of it had handled his usual public dosage with a practiced ease. It made him positively itch to test her responses to heavier doses, see for himself how far she could go. She didn't say she was unaffected. Only that she waited it out.
"I am not familiar myself with what you are describing." He had to admit, spiritualism was out of his area of expertise. She only smiled.
"Of course. The lecture I was supposed to give today was on shamanistic influences in modern medicine. It's not exactly a popular area of study outside of cultural anthropology, in part because anthropologists are some of the few academics interested in acquiring knowledge about people from the actual perspective of said people, and in part because the people making bank on modernized medicine don't wish to acknowledge where those ideas actually originate or who they have disenfranchised in order to make profit."
"Alight, but how does that play into your view in the events of yesterday? I very much doubt most of the other survivors would describe it as a spiritual experience."
"That's because most people think only of recreational drug use for trance states, and in those only value the happy or fun experiences. They don't have the upbringing or cultural understanding to appreciate the value in overcoming the frightening. Shared trauma can promote growth beyond what someone thinks they can handle, and it can bring people together like no other experience. Assuming people don't flee into isolation, of course, or make the mistake of relying upon those without the experience to be able to empathize."
He stared at her. She finished her cup of tea and poured more hot water from the small metal kettle that had been provided. That was...both a view he had considered and yet an approach he had not. It was as if she was putting words and methods to what he had always fundamentally understood on a base level. At last he found some words,
"You think yesterday's events were a positive?" He had the pleasure of watching her actually bristle, the subtle tremor under her skin drawing her lips into a tense line.
"Theoretically? Shared trauma can unite and strengthen a people. In application here? Those targeted were not prepared, and not given the appropriate aftercare. It was a simplistic act of terrorism." So she had some bite after all, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. A more interesting turn of events. He wouldn't call it his best work, but that was an acceptionally harsh judgement he was not accustomed to being told so directly. Simplistic? It clicked why quickly.
"You're bitter the convention was canceled." He observed. Her voice raised with the passion behind it,
"The convention chair is a coward, we worked too hard to be shut down so easily."
"And if the terrorist was to show up a second time?" Her amber eyes narrowed to slits.
"I do not live my life in fear of what if."
The intensity and fire behind her composure made the waiter clear his throat before approaching them, as if asking if he should interrupt. She settled back to her social smile quickly enough to let him drop off their food, and he looked particularly glad she liked the dish. And would not be sending a solar flare in his direction. He was quick to scurry away. She failed to notice.
The two settled into food, she approached that with as much enthusiasm as seemed to be her normal setting. A stark opposite to his cool composure.
"If something like yesterday's events are little more than bothersome to you, I confess to being curious. Just what are you afraid of?" He waited to hear her boast that there was nothing that could stop her. Perhaps to dismiss such a direct line of inquiry. She yet again surprised him,
"Public speaking is horrifying. Talking to new people. Large crowds. Dating. Walking alone at night. The inevitable timing of death. Lots of things scare me."
"Half of what you mention is how we met."
"I wasn't aware this was a date." The grin she gave him was playful and devious in equal parts. It evolved into a laugh and light brief touch of his hand, he wasn't sure himself what expression his face had given her, if any.
"I'm joking! You really should learn to relax. Unless you did mean this to be a date. In which case...cheers? And maybe I shouldn't have talked your ear off with academia..."
The most subtle shift in posture was all the clue he got that she was suddenly uncomfortable. It was easy to miss for someone who might not know what they were looking for. He did. So decided to grasp onto that angle.
"You wouldn't be concerned with the age gap?"
"I usually date older men, actually. You're, what, forty? Forty-five? That's only a ten year difference max." He may have let his disappointment slip into his expression for how easily she bantered back.
"You really don't express your fears outwardly, do you?"
"I don't let them control me is all. Life is too short." She finished her plate and set it to the side. He followed suit.
"I wonder, would you allow me to examine your pulse? Test a theory." She raised one brow.
"For science?" He nodded his head once. She considered it. As she had accepted his initial invitation, she held an arm out, palm side up and fingers curled into a loose fist. His reached out slowly, deliberately, and felt the pulse beneath his thumb. It was racing, fast enough that he expected her to be short of breath. She wasn't. Only the pulse gave her state away.
"Social anxiety?" It was less question and more diagnoses, she nodded and moved to retract her arm. He held firm only long enough to earn a glare of warning, which made him smile and release her wrist.
"Panic attacks?"
"Three to five times a day. Minimum. Sometimes they last for days at a time."
"And yet you can discuss it with some ease." She shrugged.
"Life goes on. It's just the physical symptoms. I know logically it's a chemical imbalance, so act accordingly."
"As you knew the hallucinogenic haze was just a bad trip."
"Precisely."
His posture must have reflected his intrigue. She grinned and finished her second cup of tea with a satisfied hum before he continued,
"Most people are not equipped with your level of self-aweness or control."
"Compliment accepted. And I've noticed. So what about you?"
"What about me?"
"Don't tell me you're a workaholic? Your entire focus on the sciences with little time for play or hobby?"
"Scientific advancement is my hobby."
She frowned with another hum.
"I thought as much. You take yourself very seriously. You know what they say about all work and no play." She pulled her phone out and typed away. Seconds after she set it down his pinged an alert. He looked to see she had sent him a time and location for two days from then.
"What's this?" Her smile returned.
"A challenge. I'm picking the next date, and that's it." He frowned at the phone, then her.
"I haven't agreed to another date, and this gives me no information on what to expect." Her smile only doubled.
"So this is a date? It's only fair I pick the next one. I'll be there regardless, but if you have no taste for adventure I suppose I will have to make due without you." It was very much a challenge, and she had gotten him to call this gathering what it was not supposed to be effortlessly.
"If you'll excuse me, I'll be right back. Let you think it over." She rose to head in the direction of the ladies room, which left him to think.
She was open, without remorse, willing to hand him the information he requested willingly. She was intelligent after all, if socially dense and far too trusting. She wasn't cured of or immune to fear, but clearly had advanced in the lessons he had attempted to teach society further than most managed to survive. She insulted his latest work and challenged his resolve all in the same sitting. How to best reply? How to best proceed? He was no longer hindered by the previously conceived time restraint. His fingers were typing the text before his mind had been fully decided. When he looked down he had already typed for his two waiting goons to take the night off. Change of plans. Well. Speaking of self-awareness. He hit send. Looks like he had a mystery date in two days time.
The bill came, another reminder for why he didn't usually waste his time on these kinds of things.
"I'll cover the next event, assuming you show up." She was still perfectly comfortable around him, or looked like she was. The playful jest naturally rolling off her tongue.
"I noticed you were dropped off. Do you have a way home?"
"I appreciate an observant man, but you haven't quite earned that yet. My ride is just pulling up looks like." She glanced at her phone for confirmation, and added quickly,
"This was nice though. Maybe I'll see you soon, psychology."
"Is that really going to be my nickname?"
"Do you prefer Frankenstein?" He laughed. He couldn't help it. The noise bubbled out of him before he could swallow it down, and when he glanced over her expression had gone delighted.
"It is possible!" She breathed it in a dreamy air, and leaned up on tip toes to kiss his cheek quickly before heading out the door. He wasn't sure how to react, and was given no time to regardless.
