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"Isn't the floor kind of uncomfortable?" Jaime asks mutedly, his voice seemingly dampened by some unspoken tension in the atmosphere — the other members of the team have all broken off into similarly solemn conversations. He extends a hand as if to help Bart up, and to a proper seat. Momentarily he towers over the other boy, who has curled up into himself against the wall in a corner of the Bioship and proceeded to keep so uncharacteristically still that he seemed to have fallen asleep. But the speedster doesn't even open his eyes, just mutters, "Nah," and pats the floor beside him.
As Jaime shrugs and settles down in the specified spot, his companion adds, "I'm used to it. Plus I'm, uh, too moded to even move right now."
He doesn't need to say a word more for them both to wordlessly agree to stay clear of the topic of the Reach's scientific 'experiments' on them. Jaime clears his throat and says the first thing that comes to mind.
"So, you… talk to yourself. Sometimes. Too. Like me, I– I mean."
Not the most eloquent conversation starter, Khaji Da notes dryly. Nor very meaningful subject matter. Suggest recuperation in favor of pointless banter.
But he does want to know more about Impulse, he realizes then. It's taken him only a couple days to notice they share the peculiarity — that, and a scattering of moments when the room goes collectively silent and the raised eyebrows are directed not at him, but the redhead speedster who is at his side surprisingly often.
Only after a moment's pause does Bart respond, reluctantly creaking open an eye to examine Jaime's expression before replying, "Yeah." Yet there's a level of alertness in his casually scrutinizing gaze that betrays his concern over the question. And a definite air of guardedness in his voice, a grim undertone that's never been there before.
"Wanna talk about why?" Jaime suggests, curiosity piqued.
A quick grin flashes across Bart's face. "You'd just laugh," he judges.
"I won't."
"You will." The words slip out before he can check that he means them, and then more follow. "I'm a speedster, right? And we… we think faster." Quick glance at Jaime's face to make sure he's following the train of thought. An encouraging nod from the latter. "Sometimes I think so fast it's like my thoughts are thinking thoughts — see, I just thought that. And sometimes I start talking and can't stop myself—"
Like he is now, Khaji Da mutters disparagingly, and Jaime instinctively shushes him.
"Sorry. Am I rambling?" asks Bart.
"No," Jaime replies, while Khaji Da drawls out a long yes. "Keep going, I'm listening."
"Oh," Bart says quietly, and seems heartened, somehow, by the statement. Then he checks himself and continues, "There… weren't a whole lot of people like you — people willing to listen to me — you know, in the future. Your future," he catches himself. He tries not to hear the unspoken words: even you weren't you, forty years from now.
"Our future," Jaime corrects him in turn, his jaw setting into a hard line. "And honestly, hermano, I would never."
What he doesn't realize is the real reason behind Bart's self-correction. His mind never left the future; his present will always be the dismal world he described briefly on board the Reach's ship.
And Bart, unsurprisingly, doesn't mention it.
"I had—" the speedster continues, hesitatingly, "nowhere for my thoughts to go. Know what I mean?"
Jaime doesn't even have to nod for him to know the answer is yes.
"So I talked, a lot. To myself. It's stupid and silly but… i-it slows me down a little, see." He keeps his gaze locked on the wall directly opposite them to avoid his friend's piercing look. "Makes my thoughts last a couple milliseconds longer. So maybe it wouldn't be as obvious that all those thoughts? All those thoughts came down to the same thing."
"What's that?"
Jaime watches in fascination, almost, as Bart subtly curls up into himself, tucks his head in so his chin almost touches his chest and tightens his arms around his knees.
"Hey," he says reassuringly. "So far, none of this has been 'stupid' or 'silly'. I haven't laughed. Do you really think I would, now?"
A beat passes, then Bart, muffled because his mouth is half-buried in his arms, murmurs, "Oh, I know you wouldn't laugh at this part of the story."
Khaji Da is silent for once, and Jaime puts an arm around Bart and tries to ignore it when the latter tenses instinctively at his touch.