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lance sweets

text | un: lance

Hi everyone. I haven't met that many of you since I've been mostly busy with the aid station, but I'm Lance.

I've done this whole 'waking up in another world' thing a few times now and in every one, there's been an issue of information getting lost. The more scattered our knowledge and experience is, the more difficult things are for everyone involved, and that includes the Adamant survivors who are kind of along for the ride in terms of whatever weirdness is surrounding us being here. So the more we know, the better for all of us.

It'd be helpful if we had access to the crew's information, but since we don't our best option is to collaborate and share what we do know with each other. Being as aware as we can of the situation will help us coordinate any future plans, and if we happen to find out something that the crew doesn't know themselves, record-keeping will help them too since they can access this network.

So far, I'm aware of public discussions about sharing things learned in conversations with the Thessyx, doing a headcount, and mapping the Adamant. We should probably also compile what we know about the animals and plants we've dealt with, things learned during scouting or exploration trips, and anything else we can think of that might be helpful.

However, I know from experience that keeping track of all this information can be kind of a big job, so if anyone is interested in handling organizing a portion of it, please feel free to say so. We'll just want to be sure that all the records are public and easily found by anyone looking for them.

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That was a joke, it's actually about twenty yards from the baths. I have loose aspirations to tap into the pipes and incorporate running water at some point in the medium-term future.

And yeah, I'm there now.

Good to know, because I spent several minutes trying not to question your choices even though I really wanted to and now I feel like it's okay to say that.

I'll come find you; I need a break.

I was genuinely questioning why you weren't questioning that, so yes, always trust your instincts

Bring coffee

I was trying not to be picky about being provided with a place to sleep that isn't a hammock.

That isn't possible, but I will bring you that horrible stuff they pass off as coffee.

[And he does, as promised, even if it takes him a little time to figure out where Ian actually is.]

Be less grateful, man, we're on that level. It's fine.

( It might be a little hard to figure out, given that there isn't just a big hole in the ground with a sign pointing down reading "Secret Apartment". There is, however, a new little burrow looking building sitting unobtrusively off to the side, easy enough to miss at first glance. What probably gives it away is the (thankfuly muffled) music playing obnoxiously from within. )

[Right. He'll just make a mental note of that for a few reasons, but focuses on finding the place. The little burrow takes a moment to notice and the music is definitely the main reason he does find it, but then he feels a little ridiculous; it's quite a bit more elaborate than he expected.

Lance doesn't quite enter the place just yet, looming in the doorway instead to call out in hopes of not startling Ian.]

Hey, I'm here.

( The exterior is the only elaborate thing about it so far. As soon as Lance pokes his head into the doorway he'll see a pretty basic set of stairs that lead down into what's very much just a big ass hole under the ground. Twenty or so square feet, a few sturdy support beams, and the whole thing illuminated by a half dozen bright LEDs he's duplicated. )

Hey, man.

( He does at least sound a little less stressed right now than the last few times they've spoken; apparently being covered in dirt with his sleeves rolled up is zen for him. )

[The sight of the place is equal parts fascinating and a little unnerving; fascinating because it's really cool how it's already taking shape and what its potential is, unnerving because his subconscious is ringing alarm bells that he knows aren't necessary. This is perfectly safe.

So he only briefly hesitates before beginning down the stairs, soon joining Ian and offering him the cup of barely-coffee.]

This looks awesome.

[And he means that, despite his nerves. And speaking of nerves, he does notice Ian seems a little more relaxed, which is nice.]

How many rooms are you thinking of making? Overall, I mean.

[Not the bedrooms issue, which they'd discussed before.]

( Don't worry, Lance. It seems claustrophobic and sketchy right now, but it won't by the time he's finished.

He wipes dirt off on his jeans before he takes the cup, huffing out a tiny laugh. )

It looks like a hole in the ground.

( A mild correction there before he answers. Don't you dare associate him with this level of quality, okay, this is early stages. )

Phase one is just three. Main area and two bedrooms, because I'm pretty sure we're all on the same page about the sleep situation.

( Meaning: the lack of it, and the fact they -- or at least Ian -- would be willing to sleep on a cot in a hole if it meant getting away from people sooner rather than later.

(Also... a little implication there with the bedroom count that he might be slightly downplaying.)

A little bit of blue glow adds to the lighting, and a mound of dirt rearranges itself to make a nice flat bench to perch on, with enough room for Lance if he wants to get dirt on his ass. )

Phase two will be non-plumbing add-ons. Electricity, workshop or office rooms, quality of life. Phase three is figuring out private showering. Kitchen. Bathroom.

( How many phases are there? TBD. )

It looks like a hole in the ground with less than ten people in it.

[Lance corrects right back because that's honestly a huge deal; even if it were literally just a hole in the ground, which is a little too reductive for this, it being somewhere not full of people is amazing enough.

He's quiet while Ian continues, taking a sip of his coffee and raising his eyebrows just slightly as he gives Ian a knowing look at the mention of two bedrooms. Good to know that got worked out.

He watches the bench form but doesn't move toward it, preferring to stay on his feet for now.]

Although I'm definitely not going to complain, that sounds like a lot.

[Just, you know, saying. Some amount of focus on work is a healthy coping mechanism, but it's very easy to tip over that line.]

( Ian tipping over the line when it comes to healthy coping mechanisms? How dare you. Burying his feelings in work? The very implication is insulting, Dr. Sweets.

This is his free time activity. He gets off work, and then he comes here to do more work. )

Yeah, well, you know... it was this or a book club, so. At least this way you get a pizza oven out of it.

( Even if they can't make pizza in it. )

[You know, he had a feeling this was extra curricular work.

But fine, he allows the deflection for now, offering instead--]

Do you really want me using a pizza oven?

( Wryly: )

On second thought, maybe another reread of Gerald's Game might not be so bad.

( It's not that he likes the horror genre as a whole so much as he just really likes Stephen King. Just for the record.

Guess he's the one in charge of Thanksgiving this year. Nate will have to hunt the alien turkey, and Lance can help him unpack the intense seasonal depression he gets every year around the holidays. It's a perfect arrangement. )

Might be worth it just to hear that people would say about it in a book club.

[Because that's quite a book. Lance doesn't read much horror either, though he did go through a phase of it in college, and of course the more psychological stuff appealed to him the most.]

Might make a good jumping-off point for your initial sessions.

( He sounds a little knowing as he says it, and he shoots Lance a look through his lashes. It's not even slightly subtle, this gentle broach of the subject, but he's not really trying to be.

Hey, man. How's counseling going? Sure seems like a lot of mental effort on your low mental resources right now. )

I can build you an office with a fainting-couch if you need one.

[Lance gives him a flat look for those comments, not exactly bristling, but a little defensive. He knows this probably isn't the best idea, but also doesn't necessarily want to hear it.]

Word's getting around already?

[Not that it was a secret or anything, and the crew needs whatever gossip they can latch onto. But he shrugs a little, shifting on his feet.]

I'm not counseling yet. Just studying. My degrees may make me more qualified than anyone else, but that isn't saying much when they're still several hundred years out of date.

[Let's talk about how annoying those technical details are rather than the issue of whether or not he should be working on starting counseling in the first place.]

( Yes, shame on Ian for saying stuff that might be true but that Lance doesn't necessarily want to hear. Who does that to somebody, really? Terrible, rude.

He shrugs an absent shoulder, flickering his eyes around the dirt, the lights, the beams, the general cave aesthetic of the room around them. Several hundred years out of date doesn't really... feel all that out of date right now, considering. )

You were in New Amsterdam for a while.

( He offers up generously. Not that Lance was really working in the field then, but it's still a little exposure to the way humanity progressed, right? Better than nothing. )

Besides, how different could it be? People are still... people. Living with them doesn't feel all that drastically different. Not so far, anyway.

[Seriously rude.

He watches Ian's gaze shift, and he appreciates the attempt at encouragement even if he doesn't necessarily agree with all of it. But he's deflecting, and so isn't going to get into that; instead, something more technical seems like a better choice.]

I imagine most of the advancements have been in neuroscience, which have then led to the tailoring of therapeutic techniques to fit that new information as connections between conditions, mental pathways and patterns, environmental factors, and other similar areas have been studied more extensively. But the core techniques for therapy are probably still very similar, or at least I hope they are.

[They worked, at home, so they can't be too off base. Maybe just more targeted or quicker now, which would both be beneficial changes, so he can't complain too much.]

The real suffering would be if I were a psychiatrist. So much pharmacology to catch up on.

Wait, you're not a psychiatrist?

( Faux-surprise; he's totally kidding, they've definitely had this conversation before. )

I mean, I'm sure you're right. They've probably narrowed the whole field down to like... five conversations to fix neurosis or something. Doesn't seem like anybody here knows them, though, and it's not like you were treating people by bloodletting with angry leeches, so. No matter what, you're gonna be helping people.

( Not that he means to be reductive about the whole thing. They've made hundreds of years of progress in technology and architecture, too, but Ian's still down there helping them build a shelter. Something is definitely better than nothing. )

I just wanna make sure you're not, you know. Doing that thing.

[He gives Ian another flat look for that first comment, but it's a more joking one than before, and the rest of what he says is genuinely encouraging. Helping people is the point, and as quietly annoyed as he is that he's not really an expert in his field anymore, he can put that aside if helping people can still be the final outcome.

But then there's that last remark, and Lance sighs a little before offering lightly--]

What thing, taking on a bunch of work and then also working in my time off? You've got that covered.

[He is so not letting Ian get away with claiming to be doing fine with all of this but then also calling Lance out for it.]

( The look he shoots back is the facial equivalent of yeah, yeah, shut up already. They've got that covered, they both know what he's doing. )

Not just that. I mean, like...

( And this is where he's at a disadvantage; he's an engineer, not a psychologist, he has no idea what he's talking about really. It takes him a second to try and explain it in a way he thinks makes sense. )

There's burying yourself in work so you don't deal with your problems, yeah, but... the stuff I'm building doesn't come with its own... emotional labor. It doesn't weigh anything for me to fix it. Helping people out with their baggage is... something else. It depletes energy. I'm just worried about making sure you can keep up with refueling yours.

[Some of his defensiveness drains a little more at how genuinely concerned Ian is, and he gives another, longer sigh as he crosses his arms and shrugs.]

I'm not really good at anything else.

[Which isn't entirely true, but the idea is probably clear enough; he can't help in the sorts of way Ian might, in building and fixing things. He glances off to the side briefly, shifting on his feet a little.]

I want to be doing something that'll actually make a difference.

[Both for the sake of other people and for himself; if he can help people, then maybe it'll give some meaning to getting through everything else he's dealing with.]

( They've seriously gotten really far along on this whole honesty thing since they've known each other. Slow going, sure but here they are now -- Ian admitting a worry he does actually feel, Lance not denying the toll it must take on him.

There's a subtle shift in his brow and the downturn of his lips that makes it clear he's not particularly happy with the answer. He wants to disagree with it -- that's not all Lance is good at -- but at the end of the day... well, the guy's got like fifteen doctorates for exactly this, doesn't he? It'd be a little like Ian getting tired of building stuff and switching to mopping floors or something. Just somehow a little off.

What makes this an issue that's impossible to argue is that last sentiment; actually making a difference. He knows the feeling, he's pretty sure he said something similar to Lance not all that long ago, he'd be a hypocrite now if he tried to talk Lance through some kind of logic-loop to get away from that. )

Look, can you at least... promise you'll try to find some balance? Start out small, go easy, make sure you're taking enough time to actually... feel good for like ten minutes before you dive back into somebody's traumatic psyche?

[They've definitely come a long way, both together and as individuals. Forming a relationship strong enough to convince someone who may be closed off that it's safe to reach out is a feat in itself, just as much so as being willing to extend trust in return. And, so far, they've been making both aspects work on both sides, at least as much as they could ever be expected to manage at this point.

Lance appreciates that Ian seems to understand why this is important, and that he does makes it easier to nod in agreement with his request. It also makes it easier to offer a little admission in return, a stronger assurance that he's listening.]

I will. I have no desire to end up repeating Hadriel.

[He's learned from his mistakes, and even if putting that into practice can be difficult, he fully intends to do his best.

But that promised, his posture relaxes a little more, and though he doesn't uncross his arms it's now more contemplative than defensive as he decides this is a good point to shift the conversation a little. It isn't a deflection, exactly, but more an attempt to even things out and also something he's been meaning to ask anyway.]

Speaking of taking time, how have you been doing with everything? Work aside.

[It's probably clear that he means 'with the alien issue', so no need to actually say it.]

( Maybe they shouldn't be given too much credit. Right now is an example of Ian only sharing because he'd feel like an asshole if he didn't. It's unbalanced to poke at Lance's vulnerable spots and offer up nothing in return. Sharing via guilty obligation rather than any normal-person desire to open up. Whatever works?

He exhales, ruffling a hand over his hair. Palm's a little dirty, but then again, so's his hair. )

I don't know, ya know? After they showed up... I'm... tired, and I think I'm at the point where I'm realizing this is permanent in a way that's more than just logically. ( There's knowing, and then there's knowing. ) Not just... being here, but the way everything... feels every day. There's no going back to the way things felt in New Amsterdam.

( That sense of ease, of safety, of connectedness. Feeling like himself. Even when he felt stressed there, monster apocalypse aside, it was on a different... lesser kind of level than what he feels here on a day to day basis. And yeah, he's been isolating himself in his work, so probably nobody to blame for that disconnectedness but himself. Still, shut up. The alternative's worse.

He shrugs a shoulder, one up and one heavy down. )

It sucks, but...

( It is what it is. )

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