086
one love, one house
Brynn.
Robert.
You doing OK?
Yeah.
We don't have to do this today if you don't want to.
I showed up, didn't I?
I know, but...
Spit it out.
I'm thinking.
Is this about the sex?
Jesus Christ. You're just going to say it like that?
Oh my God. Wait a second. You can't talk about sex with someone you actually had sex with?
That's... I wasn't saying that, I just...
I'm not upset, that's just funny. Anyway, don't worry. You're not the first boss to fuck his secretary. My Women's Studies professor would be incredibly disappointed, though.
Joking deflection is my thing. You can't have it.
I can't learn the master's technique?
Funny. Can you be serious for a second?
Robert, look. Denny's still dead. We did what we did. I'm over it. You don't have to make this a thing.
I'm not trying to make it a thing, I just want to know where we stand.
You pay me 60 an hour to listen to your war stories, and twice a week I do your IVs. Same deal it's been for months.
You know what I mean.
And... what? You wanna get married, have kids, get a house together? You're a fossil compared to me but I'm still an adult. I know what a hookup is.
What if I don't want it to be that?
You don't get to decide that by yourself. And if you keep pushing, it definitely won't turn out the way you want.
I'm not trying to push, Brynn.
OK, you said my name again, so I guess you're actually having feelings. What is this really about?
I have to spell it out? You already said it. We had sex.
Yes, I'm familiar with the concept.
But you don't want to talk about it.
You acted like you didn't want to talk about it. What do you want, an after action report?
No, I--
Robert, it was fine. It was what I needed in that moment. It wasn't appropriate by any stretch of the imagination. But it's done, I'm not mad and you... did a good job comforting me, all right? Can't it just be that and that be enough?
I don't know. This is weird.
You've done one-night stands before.
Not with... whatever this is.
Well, I didn't come here to process your sexual hangups, so how about you pick a topic?
You're not acting like yourself.
Yeah, remember the whole "dead fiancee" thing? That was only a couple days ago. There's a thing called "grief."
And you just want me to tell you a story like usual?
I can think about something else for a while. Get it? Come on. Give me a good one.
You wanna know how I left Magna?
Wasn't that in a body bag?
Different me.
OK, try me.
February, 2009. You remember what was going on then?
I was about 13. Really into Lady Gaga and Taylor Swift and boys started noticing me. But you probably mean something else.
The economy crashed. Like, the global economy. The whole thing.
Right! My dad lost his job. He found a new one quickly, thank God.
Good for him. I don't think I have to connect too many dots here.
You got fired due to a bad economy? That's really anticlimactic.
It wasn't exactly that. The Millennium Massacre had happened. That gutted a bunch of the leadership and killed quite a few of the kids. The company rebuilt because that's what companies do. I was dead so my job was filled by someone else. When I came back after killing the young, evil, blond version of myself, Ryan didn't immediately have a position for me. He said if I could find someone who wanted my skills, I could come out of their budget. That was his version of paying me back for sticking around to defend the kids.
But that wasn't you.
And Ryan knew that, but he couldn't pay back the me who'd died, so this was his way of clearing the ledger, I guess. Let me just say, it was debasing to go from one division to the next with my hand out. I even asked Jared Firth for a job, and he knew full well I didn't like him, and let me squirm in humiliation about it for a while before telling me no. I eventually went to Magna Blue, the biotech division. Jabari Murrobo ran that one. I didn't know him, but he'd heard plenty about me. I think that was my advantage: he'd heard the legends but wasn't jaded by the reality. He wasn't sure what to do with me, so he put me on his security detail. Everybody had a security detail after the massacre.
Wait, so this was 2009?
Nah, way before that, I'm just setting up.
So, I worked Murrobo's security detail for a while. I was good at that, better circumstances than the whole Quispe mess, and Magna Blue was pretty flush with cash. The problem was that there weren't really any problems. I didn't have a time machine anymore. The kids I'd been there for aged into leadership or struck out on their own, but either way they didn't need someone like me looking after them anymore. And I had my reputation, which was far from pristine.
You ever go back somewhere that was important to you at one time in your life only to find out it's just not the same anymore? It was like that. I'm not complaining about the money. It paid extraordinarily well for what was an easy job. But there was just nothing to do.
You mean unless you were taking on galactic warlords or solving time crises, you were simply bored?
I guess so. But I stuck it out because I didn't have anywhere else to go, and I got on well with Murrobo, who came off like a lunatic but was actually just a decent guy with a warped sense of humor. Miles better than the consummate professionals who plotted world domination for fun. I figured, if guys like this are the future of Magna, maybe they won't be so bad.
Let me guess: something awful happened to him.
No, just completely normal corporate things. I was there for a few years, then the financial crisis hit, and suddenly his budget was cut by a third. There went the security budget, almost all the expensive R&D projects. He had to focus on the handful of promising medical applications that were already 90% there and aggressively slash the rest. Now, they did the usual song and dance where a lot of people could theoretically keep a job if they found another position within Magna. So, I went to Ryan again. It wasn't a long conversation, and he didn't have to say much. I was out of moves, out of cards, and he was out of money. CEOs aren't paid to apologize. I handed in my laptop and badge. He let me keep the commemorative coffee mug and monogrammed tote bag. Even got a nice severance that calculated my tenure back to my original hiring, which he didn't have to do. After I walked out of his office that day in late February, I never saw him again.
And... that was it? No more Magna?
The fact of the matter was, they were already on the outs. The economy shitting itself just pushed them over the edge. Ryan had already been looking into how to parcel out each division for cash infusions to fund the rest. Blue was scheduled to go a few months after the RIF. He already had a buyer lined up. It was only from watching the headlines that I realized Ryan was doing me a final mercy without saying so. His company was dissolving and he was trying to control the terms of the breakup. By 2010, there wasn't anything left. Companies did what companies do: the divisions were reorganized, split up, sold off, and before long there was nothing recognizable as "Magna" anymore, not even in name. Ryan retired to... Paraguay, I think?
Isn't that a good thing? You said Magna was involved in the War. So if they were gone, there's a chance that helps prevent the War?
I'd like to think so, but since the capability disseminated into other companies, I'm not sure it made much difference. And I won't be around to find out.
You sound... at peace with that.
I don't have much choice, do I?
Well, you could be bitter. It's always a choice.
Too old for that. Anyway, after that I retired here, to this shitty locksmith shop/apartment.
What made you want to be a locksmith?
Nothing, I inherited this place from somebody else.
Oh, right. I don't think you've told me that story.
Nope.
So... tell me.
Not today.
Ah, it must be a personal one.
What makes you say that?
You just told me a story about how you left a company-cult thing that was a huge part of your life, and that it didn't bother you much because you already felt like an outsider in it. An easy story to tell because it's not emotional. You won't tell me about this apartment right now, which tells me that one is emotional.
Superb reasoning.
The terse answers reinforce it.
And you're not getting that one today.
Is this some kind of punishment for not being your girlfriend, or what?
Watch yourself, Brynn. I'll open my wounds when I feel like it, and I'm wounded enough for one day.
I don't like the implication that it's my fault.
I didn't say anything was your fault.
I called it an implication, didn't I?
Fine. I'm not implying it, either. My feelings are my feelings.
But you share your feelings with me all the time. Sort of.
Not this time.
Oh. You didn't want to talk about the sex, either.
Neither did you, remember?
I'm more than willing to talk about that. What I remember is that your pants came off and you were bigger than I assumed... and a lot hairier. Like being with a bear.
All right, you can stop.
See? No embarrassment here. You not talking about the sex and not wanting to open up any other feelings are the same thing. You don't want to talk about your feelings about me with me.
You told me to tell a story, so I did.
You told me a story with zero emotional stakes and it seems like it was on purpose.
The hell do you want from me, Brynn? My fucking feelings are hurt, all right? Maybe not hurt. They're just. Something. I don't like this feeling.
You thought our relationship was one thing and now it's got this new element and you don't know where it fits yet. I get it. But I'm trying to tell you, you're making too much out of it.
That's not the problem. The problem is you're not making anything out of it.
How much processing do you think I can do in three days, dude? I don't know how I feel, yet. I'm trying not to dump something on you that I'm not sure about. I need time.
I'm not trying to force you into something. I just feel like you're pushing me away.
The man I was going to marry just died and then I fucked my boss, so you'll have to forgive me if my feelings are a little mixed up, all right? I don't... I'm not trying to push you away. I am trying to hold you at the distance we had before, until I know what I want to do next. Can you understand that?
I don't know. I'll try. Thank you for explaining.
God, you act like a kicked puppy every time I tell you something. It's no wonder nobody stays.
Get the fuck out of my apartment, Brynn.
Stop calling me that. You've never called me by name this much before and it feels intentional. Like you're putting a claim on me.
I just said get out.
Fine.
Same time tomorrow?
Yeah. Asshole.