dreadinquisitor | Mask or Menace

I'm a man of many talents

[He looks a bit tired, tension lingering around the edges of his eyes, but his smile is as easy as ever when Poe sweeps in on a cool night breeze. He glances around as he slides his communicator into his pocket.]

I think so. Unless you have something specific in mind that I need something special for?

[Poe shook his head.]

No, just wanted to get out. [He paused, looking out the window and frowning. Did he look... sheepish? Was that an expression Poe was capable of?]

Have you uh... been watching any television recently?

[Maxwell's head tipped, just slightly, picking up the hesitance.]

Not really. [His smile pulled to one side.] To be honest, that's something else we don't have where I'm from, and I haven't decided yet if that's necessarily a bad thing.

[Maxwell leaned to snap off the light that roused Poe, plunging the room into a darkness that slowly brightened with silvery moonlight.]

It's rather loud.

Loud is one way of putting it. [His tone was a little dark, but when he turned to face Maxwell he was smiling again, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes as they blinked to get used to the light change.]

Probably for the best. You have anything you want to see in particular? Or should we just go grab some "french fries" and find a rooftop to have a snack on?

[It reminded him of Sera, so clear and sharp in that moment, and while the pang in his chest wasn't quite as hard as it had been when he'd first arrived, it was still there, sliding between his ribs even as he nods.]

Don't know what those are, but I'm willing to find out.

They basically seem like a deep fried receptacle for salt. [He climbs back onto his carpet, and it began to hover before he patted the back of it for Maxwell to climb on.]

They're tasty, is what they are.

I trust you. [He says with no trace of irony as he hopped up onto the carpet behind Poe - still just close enough to make a grab for him if he had to. Once they drifted back through the window, he leaned to push the window closed again.] So, why do you ask? [He glanced over as the window squeaked.] About the television? Have I missed something?

[Poe kept the carpet hovering as still as he could, until the window was closed, and then they slowly began to rise into the night sky.]

It's really - It's kind of a long story. Yes. Is the short version. You missed something. But it's not really worth worrying about.

[Maxwell waited a moment, then spoke gently.]

But enough to have you awake and offering to take me for food at this ungodly hour?

You don't have to talk about it, but if you'd like to...

[He shifted, a casual settling, showing that he was in no rush and didn't mind simply listening.]

[The truth was that of course it was bothering him, and he didn't know if he wanted to talk about it or pretend that nothing had happened. So he let out a weird grunt sound to voice this.]

I'm usually awake. Can't get a good night's sleep in this place.

[There was a long pause. Long enough to make it feel like he wasn't going to broach the subject again.

But then:]

You know anything about a guy named Hux?

[It was a long enough pause that even Maxwell, a generally patient man, was about to agree, and offer his experiences with sleeplessness in sympathy. But he accepted the shift in direction again easily.]

No, I don't think so.

What did he do?

[Poe sighed.]

He killed a lot of people.

I hit him. On "national television". That's all. Just didn't want you thinking - well. Thinking the worst about me, I guess.

[He shrugged, and then the carpet began to turn, arcing toward the bar district down town, where the food trucks would still be open.]

Look, maybe let's just talk about something else. You making any friends here?

[Maxwell looked at Poe steadily, one brow arching slightly.]

Even if he hadn't done those things, I wouldn't think the worst of you. You've been nothing but kind to me since we met. That isn't usually the action of the "worst" sort of people.

[A beat. A gentle smile.]

To also answer your question, if a bit presumptuously.

[He turned his head at that, the darkess having been pushed back, and offered a genuine, half amused smile.]

No presumption at all, buddy. [He turned back to look where he was flying.]

He's just getting under my skin, and he's doing it on purpose.

[Maxwell leaned back on his hands, and crossed his legs at the ankles, an easy conversation - as they streaked through the dark, high in the hair, nothing to hold them but a flimsy carpet.]

Then it sounds like it was deserved. Tact is all well and good, but there are some who just aren't worth it.

[There is a long pause. Poe is not as relaxed as Maxwell, though it would be hard to tell from the outside. He holds all his tension in the pit of his stomach - an old trick from having to fly and needing to keep his shoulders from locking up.]

... He destroyed five planets. Before I came here. The entire Republic Fleet. Billions of people. And he was taunting me about it.

He deserves a hell of a lot more than a punch.

[Maxwell's voice is gentle and slow. He looks out across the city as it rushes by under them.]

Some people aren't worth it.

[He holds up his left hand, turning it, the green of his mark flashing like sparks - did it look like stars from down below?]

I got this from what was left of a man known as Corypehus. He murdered the Divine, our most holy, in the midst of the peace talks she had called trying to stop the war that was ravaging my world. He killed her, hoping to ascend, to assault the Heavens and become a god to rule over us all.

[He looks at Poe, and closes his hand again.]

I know some people aren't worth it.

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