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Sometimes Sigma had "fits" of sorts, (Fyodor referred to them as "meltdowns", but thinking of it as such made her feel odd, so she ignored the small part of her that knew what they were), where everything would become too much for her. Where lights got too bright, and sounds too loud, and smells too strong. Where typically tolerable touches made her feel like she was dying. Where she'd get snippy, and irritated, and frustrated and downright despairingly horrible until it felt like she couldn't take it anymore. Where she'd cry, and yell, and act so very unprofessionally, which just made that horrible feeling worse.
It made her feel stupid. She knew it wasn't, not really, and if someone else were experiencing the same thing she certainly wouldn't think of them as such, but she couldn't help it. It made her mad, in all honesty, to know that she was created the way she was. So very imperfect in so many ways.
Fyodor would reprimand her for that kind of thinking. He regarded her as ungrateful, at times. She didn't know how to feel about that. Maybe she was a little ungrateful.
Nevertheless, it was fitting for someone like Sigma to be standing idly in some hallway near her office, hands clenching and unclenching around nothing but air. She couldn't quite remember what she had been doing before, she just knew that everything had suddenly become "too much" and that it forced her body into this "state" of hers. Her skin crawled uncomfortably at the subconscious reminder. Of people brushing up against her, of hands on her, on her arms, her back, guiding her, maneuvering her, caging her in. It had all been so loud, and sharp, and everyone was talking and laughing and pushing and crowding and it was all just too much.
Signa inhaled sharply, swallowing down the lump that had formed in her throat as she tried to focus on her breathing, lungs constricting ever so slightly as she shut her eyes. It's okay, I'm okay. It's okay, I'm okay. I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay, imokayimokayimokayim-
Her breath hitched, a shiver running up her spine. Her skin burned, and so did her lungs, and her eyes, and she sort of felt like crying, but it seemed pointless, and the feeling of tears on her face probably would've made it all worse, so she didn't. She felt herself slide against the wall and down onto the floor, practically gasping for air. When had it gotten so hard to breathe?
Shakily, she pulled her phone out of her pocket, barely sparing the screen a glance before she was calling Hohol, hands trembling with the force of her heart thudding in her chest, pounding against her ribcage.
"Sigma?"
Sigma opened her mouth to respond, to say something, to explain, but nothing came out except some sort of warbled grunt. Figures. It really was baffling to her how Fyodor could ever see worth in what a ridiculous creation she had turned out to be. She didn't even work right, couldn't function properly. What a failure.
"Sigma? Are you ok?"
The sound of Hohol's voice through the phone, tinny and grating, made her curl into herself, letting out a small sound of complaint in response. She wanted to cry. Everything was too much, and she wanted to cry.
If Hohol responded to her sorry excuse of a response, she didn't hear him, a sob pushing itself past her lips as she slammed her head backwards into the wall, chest heaving. The sensation of it had seemed to help calm her for a moment, so she did it again. And again. And again. And again, until suddenly, there was a hand where the wall was supposed to be, and she had lost track of how many times she'd repeated the painful action.
The hand remained on her head, fingers digging into her scalp slightly as she blinked up at the figure infront of her dazedly.
Hohol frowned, sitting down criss-cross in front of her. He still hadn't moved his hand.
"Are you alright?"
Sigma tried to meet his eyes, but the sensation of it made the feeling come rushing back, and Hohols hand was shoved against the wall as she slammed her head back once more to get rid of the feeling, so she ended up directing her gaze to the floor in-between them.
He didn't seem to mind anyways.
"You don't have to do that, y'know."
She didn't make any sign of hearing him. He'd know anyways. She squirmed after a moment, pushing his hand off of her head before running her hands through her hair, tugging lightly. Hohol didn't reprimand her for it, though she knew he'd probably interfere if she started hurting herself again.
"Do you want me to stay?"
Sigma blinked, glancing towards his face before nodding ever so slightly. She didn't, because she hated him and his very presence managed to piss her off constantly, but she also did. She did, because he, in his own ridiculous way, cared about her; she did because he wasn't using her, wasn't cornering her, wasn't imposing and forceful. She wanted him to stay. And so he did.
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
Calling Fyodor would probably have benefitted her significantly more; he knew what to do in these situations, he'd seen her fall apart on countless occasions, but Hohol just seemed like the better option in the heat of the moment. Maybe because he was more comforting by nature than Fyodor could ever be. It was just how their dynamic worked
"Sigma?"
She groaned, pressing her hands against her ears. Too loud. Too much noise, there was too much noise. She needed quiet. How could she tell him what to do if her voice wouldn't work? God, she felt horrible. She hated this.
A sudden, sharp pain melted through the back of her head, causing her head to pound. Hohols hands had replaced her own, pressing against the sides of her head in some sort of comforting manner. Sigma looked down at her own hands in confusion, brows furrowed.
"You're gonna get one if those giant cartoon bumps in your head if you don't stop doing that."
Sigma tried not to cringe away from his voice. She knew he was trying to help. She knew that. She really did. Atleast his dumb joke fit the piece she was looking for together. She must've hit her head again.
"I can get you out of here, but I don't know where your office is, so we might just have to make due with a guest room."
Hohol offered her a look bordering sympathy, but Sigma thought that was odd, considering he wasn't really one to feel much sympathy. Not in a bad way-, it was just a fact. Mykola Hohol wasn't a man of much care for others. Not like she'd fault him for it, she could relate, in some ways. She nodded after a moment, swallowing. A guest room was fine. She knew Hohol was referring to his own guest room, anyways. (Not like he was even meant to have one here).
Hohol paused for a moment before humming in acknowledgement, sliding his hands off of her head before moving to pick her up, earning a noise of surprise. God, she hated the way his ability felt.
As if preparing herself, Sigma shut her eyes, hands bawled into fists as she gripped the fabric of her pants. The tell-tale sensation of Hohol's ability, and the drastic change in setting that soon followed, would probably have had her keeling over if not for Hohol holding her like a child. It would've annoyed her if it hadn't felt so nice. Something about the pressure of it.
He set her down on the (surprisingly neat) bed after a moment, much to her disappointment, turning to flick the lights off.
She felt herself let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, fists pulling at the fabric of her pants as if she were unsure if what to do with them. Hohol was still watching her, but he had started moving about the room as if to give her space.
Sigma swallowed. God, this whole situation was so embarrassing. She let herself fall backwards, sinking into the comforter below her. He probably thought she was some big fucking joke now. A really pathetic, useless, failure of a joke.
Almost out of nowhere, she fully noted the feeling of tears sliding down her face in mild surprise. It was as if she were being punished for some horrendous sin. The thought didn't help much.
Against her better judgement, Sigma continued to lay there, staring up at the ceiling as tears continued to poor, her eyes stinging from the sensation. God, she was so fucking pathetic.
"Sigma?"
Hohol had stopped his movements from his place by the window, head turned to look over at her, brows furrowed. He seemed concerned, if she had to place the look on his face. "You're crying." It wasn't a question, but it wasn't exactly something she had the ability to respond to, either; even if her voice was working, Hohol didn't seem to leave enough space to give a proper response.
He walked over after a moment, sitting next to Sigma on the bed. "Are you alright?"
Sigma shrugged, digging her palms into her shut eyes. This was terrible. She felt terrible.
Hohol was humming a quiet tune, something she couldn't quite place, rubbing his palms against the comforter. "Y'know, I get the same way sometimes. Where everything's too much."
Sigma didn't move, but a tinge of annoyance seemed to make itself present in the back of her mind. She and Hohol weren't the same. They were fundamentally different no matter how you looked at it. Sigma wasn't born like he was, she was made this way. She was some kind of sick joke. He was just.. human.
He payed her silence no mind, barreling on. "You should stop overworking yourself so much. You aren't going to suddenly burst into flames if you take a break, y'know. I take breaks all the time, and I haven't caught on fire yet!"
He nudged her hands away from her eyes after a moment, wrinkling his nose. "You'll hurt your eyes like that."
Sigma pushed herself into a seated position similar to Hohol's, turning her body to face him. He huffed at that, pulling her next to him before frowning. "Can I do your hair? That always helps calm me down."
Sigma shrugged in agreement. She didn't really have any other ideas. Hohol clapped in excitement before shifting so her back was to him, carding a hand through her hair.
"Baths also help calm me down, but I don't think we're quite there yet."
Absolutely not.
"Are you and Fyodor not close? I figured you guys were, since you call him Fyodor with such casualty. But you also call me by first name sometimes, and you don't like me very much. I'm really just wondering why you called me and not him, honestly."
Sigma was growing annoyed. Why was Hohol talking like this when he knew she couldn't answer? And why was he talking so much? (She ignored the fact that it WAS helping her calm down, oddly enough).
"Is it cause he's your cage?"
Sigma frowned. Her cage? In a way, she supposed. But it's not like she has anything, or anyone, else. The DOA was like forced family at this point. That would be a bit weird, though, considering Fyodor and Hohol's... whatever they were. On second thought, maybe not quite family.
"I'm going to kill him. Not now, not in the next couple of weeks, nor months, maybe not the next couple of years either. But I will. I'm going to kill him for my freedom. Maybe you'll find some of that yourself."
What the hell.
Kill Dostoyevsky? Fyodor??
Why was Hohol even telling her this???
"We're two very similar people, Sigma. I want to see you free. I want to know how it'll change you, how you'll live away from a cage. I want to know so much about you, away from your position in this organization. You're interesting in that way."
He paused, hands brushing against her neck as he adjusted the collar to her shirt. "Okay! All done! Feeling any better?"
She frowned, waving his hands away before properly fixing the collar of her shirt. It had to be done a certain way or else the fabric felt wrong.
She turned to face him when she was done, squinting at him. This man..
She did feel better, though. Hohol's rambling was nice, in all honesty. Nodding, Sigma offered him a rather hesitant smile. She still didn't like him much.
He beamed, smile growing wide. "I'm so glad!! Maybe we can make this a regular thing?? Not you having meltdowns in random hallways and then crying onto my sheets, but me helping you relax maybe??" He paused, sounding almost nervous. If that wasn't horrifying, she didn't know what else was. "I think it could do us both some good."
That wasn't the... worst idea in the world.
She nodded after a moment, sticking out a hand for Hohol to shake as if to say "Deal".
Hopefully, she wouldn't regret this.
She doesn't. And when her casino falls, and the whole world is falling apart around her, she can't help but feel relieved that he's the one to find her this time. Even if it's just because she can be of use to him, She doesn't regret it.