knowthyexits | (no subject)

Sarah is soaking wet. And she's heard it all about how many pounds she probably is. She knows better than to argue, knows to just take advantage of any preconception and go with it. The problem is, no one here is really anything but too-kind and she's soaking wet. Her clothes are sticking to her skin and sloshing about, but it's a necessary evil if she wants to eat or shower.

She's made it downstairs to the clothes box, stripping off her long-sleeved painted-on top (at least, that's what it feels like at the moment), letting it fall to the floor with a heavy thud before continuing along.

Tank top goes too and meets with the jeans. She's still got on a pair of men's spandex shorts and a camisole, but those are wet too and she's willing to take anything she can from the clothes box at the moment, even the ugly plaid flannel long-sleeved shirt she's just grabbed. It reminds her of something that she might have thrown out from Charley's closet and that makes her smile, just offhand for a moment.

It's just a brief flicker of a moment and she turns her attention back to the more important things. Dry clothes. Reaching her arms above her head, she flexes her shoulders back and starts to shrug into the shirt, cool air meeting her skin momentarily as she pulls on the shirt, covering her shoulders, arms, and more.

The jeans come next and she soldiers on, just glad to be dry once more.

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Sarah doesn't laugh at all, just staring at him with discomfort, crossing her arms as tightly as she could around her body. "What year are you from?" she asks, "If you don't want to tell me your name."

"That all depends on your perspective," he replied, calmly, "and what exactly it is you're asking."

"I want to know what year you're from, how you got to look like that, and who was involved in it. Did someone perform an operation on you? Are you human?" her questions are slightly on edge, slightly demanding, but she'd rather know than be caught off guard later.

"First question first, then, I was born in the late 20th century and I came here from the early 21st," he said. "But I've lived most of my life in the 40th."

"And I have a human brain, if that's what you're asking. The metal, not the flesh, was the addition. Your other questions I'd prefer not to answer. I'm sure you understand."

Sarah's still on edge, but he hasn't attacked and he speaks like he's human. He doesn't sound like any of the T-triple-eights she's come across, but after a life of running from and with metal -- though not trusting it -- she's learned to be very wary and not ever trust by sight alone. "Have you ever heard of Zeira Corp?"

"Would I admit it if I had?" Cable asked curiously. "Though for what little it's worth, no."

People lie, but she's never known machines to understand the concept so much. There's something off about this whole situation, but she can't put her finger on it, so she continues to eye him warily. "I don't see many people like you around."

"I'm a unique and special snowflake," he replied dryly.

"It's Cable, incidentally," he added nonchalantly as he turned away from her to slip off his soaking wet trousers and pick up a, neon green, pair as replacements. "It's not my only name but most people call me Cable."

She's slow and begrudging to give any information, but she can't just be the nameless woman. That's worse because it might mean questions are asked. "Sarah," she says, evenly, huddling her clothes tighter on her frame. "I'm Sarah. And now I need to ask you what you saw." She hesitates, then glances just to the side. "I'm sorry."

And that got her his full attention and he paused, still holding the new trousers in his hands, trying to work out how he should play this.

He hadn't seen anything, really, but he wasn't sure that he shouldn't pretend that he had. This was rapidly turning into one of the most interesting conversations he'd had in a while.

"If you had metal parts," he said slowly, "I didn't notice them. I saw nothing I wouldn't expect to see."

It's not metal she's worried about. She has no metal on her, she knows as much, but she stays stubborn and doesn't know whether or not to just leave it be. "Nothing at all? You didn't even peek?" She might be in good shape if he's not talking about her scars.

"Up until about a minute ago," Cable replied, "you were of no special interest to me at all. And I saw nothing that changed that opinion."

"And, since you're unlikely to tell me what exactly it is I might have noticed, that's as good an answer as you're going to get."

She's happy with that, even if she can't really be too pleased that she's now put herself on this man's radar, but she tries not to focus on that too long. "Cable, I'm sorry for acting so strange. I just don't see many people like you where I come from. It caught me off guard."

Cable turned back to what he was doing, while she spoke, and dropped his boxer shorts to the floor, completely unashamed and then stepped into the trousers he'd been holding. It was the same message he'd been sending through the entire conversation, he was here to do what he wanted to do and her presence was incidental. Not unimportant, maybe, but not enough to make him alter his actions either. It was his way of saying that he didn't intimidate easily.

"Don't worry about it," he told her as he changed his socks. "I've had far worse reactions before."

She tries to smile, but it comes out muted and dulled and she just stares, not sure what's supposed to come next in a situation like this. "Yeah? Did people throw rocks or something?" she wonders, rubbing her hand up and down her arm.

"That sort of thing, yes," he told her, with a smile. "One woman even threatened me with a knife. Her name was Sarah too, actually."

Funny sort of coincidence, really, though unlikely to be anything more.

"I've heard that Sarahs are a bit...tricky," she deadpans, and it's not even a lie. After all, Bruce seems to be concerned with a Sarah of his own and all she needs to do is ask Derek how much of a pain in the ass she is to get a rant that could go on for hours. "Did she hurt you?"

"I don't hurt easily," he said softly, as he picked up the clothes he'd just taken off and made ready to leave.

"I'll see you around, Sarah."