cryobiological | IC Inbox

She rolls her eyes and gestures broadly, trailing fog and shining motes of crystal in the wake of her hand. "It's not like I went out and intentionally went after you," she points out. "You came to me. It's like you wanted me to do it."

She raises an eyebrow then turns, very deliberately, to walk back in, leaving the door open for Mick to follow if he wants to. The cabin itself is trashed, with dresser drawers open and spilling soggy clothes, paintings on the wall slashed and ruined, slush tracked into the rugs, and icicles hanging from the ceiling. The temperature inside is far colder than outside. "Who's hiding?" she counters, the question almost sickly sweet on her lips as she sits on the edge of the bed. "Can't a girl just enjoy the privacy of her own cabin?"

"I wanted you to calm the fuck down and not attack anyone." He eyes the ice crystals carefully and then moves to follow her. He stops in the doorway to take in the room. "She is not going to be happy when she sees this you know. She's uptight about her room."

He folds his arms and looks at her carefully. "You're paired with Bucky this month."

Frost laughs darkly, shaking her head before she looks right up at Mick, a knowing smile on her lips. "Don't you know? There is no 'she'," she explains, like she's talking to a child. "There isn't anyone else who's going to wake up and see all this without remembering how it happened."

She glances at her fingernails, bored. "I know. He hasn't said a damn thing to me. I bet he's scared." She grins again, back up at him. "Are you coming in, or is it too cold for you, Heatwave?"

"Maybe she'll know, but judging from how much she hated my cabin I am sure she'll hate this too." He steps into the room. It is too chilly for his taste but he'll be damned if he lets her know that. "And what do you plan to do about that, Frost? A warden who is scared of you can't help you."

"I don't need his help, thanks," she says, a little bitterly, and slides over to make room next to herself on the bed, like she's just daring him to sit down.

But she lets out a sigh and shakes her head. "I guess I'm going to have to spell it out for you. There is no Caitlin Snow. She's gone. That was a pathetic facade I put up to try to be 'normal.' But you and I both know there isn't any normal, right? It isn't fun."

"No it isn't fun. But back to Bucky. What are you planning on doing if he approaches you and wants to be your warden for a bit? You planning on giving him the time of day or play this whole cold hard bitch thing?"

She shrugs. "No plans. I guess we'll just have to see what happens."

"Well play nice with him. I'll make it worth your time."

"Oh, you will?" she asks, with a slow, syrupy sweet smile. "And how, exactly, do you plan to do that?"

"That depends on what it takes to make it worth your time. If it is something I can do, I will."

"So ... leave 'Bucky' alone," she says, with the air quotes in her voice even if she's not indicating them with her fingers, "and you'll owe me a favor? Whatever I want?"

"Not leave him alone, go easy on him and yes. As long as it is something I can do here without getting demoted. So I won't kill an inmate for you. "

She rolls her eyes. "I won't need you to kill anyone for me. As fun as that might be, I can do that myself."

"Good. I that case yeah. I'll do what you want."

"Is that all, then?" she asks. "You just want me to 'go easy' on Barnes? Or was there something else?"

"Honestly, that's it. You don't really have anything else I am interested in right now, Snow." He shrugs. "We got a deal?"

She bristles a little at the name, but waves it off. "I already said we did."

"Good." He gives her a nod and then turns to leave.

There's a part of her that wants to tell him to wait, to stay, to keep her company if nothing else. He's the closest thing she has to part of home, here, and that means that he must understand things about her that no one else really will - but that's stupid, so she buries it deep, so deep she doesn't have to feel it.

But what would even happen if she did ask him to stay? It's not like they would have a chat over tea and become best friends. It's not like she would matter, beyond her ability to decide whether to hurt people or not. It's not like he would actually care.

"Good," she echoes, and if he wants to leave - then he can leave, and she won't stop him.

He pauses at that, glancing over her shoulder at her. She is wrong about that. Mick has changed a lot on the Barge. And he would have cared. At least until she killed him. Now he's finding it a lot harder to care. But she's a reminder of home, of Len. He grits his teeth.

"You know where to find me."

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