starlaboratories | (no subject)

(no subject)

This version of Barry Allen has, essentially, completely taken over the Star Labs TV room. The walls, the coffee table, the windows and even the television are completely covered in these strange symbols resembling pictographs and other such things. Barry is, at this moment, sitting on the floor and drawing on it with that ever present chalk marker.

On top of the television, a pile of ice cream bar sticks and wrappers. Apparently he has been eating something, at least.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

In all probability, what he says isn't a response to her question. But it's close enough for carrots. "The stars are raining."

"Yeaaah..." she draws the word out, staring confused at the commercial on the screen. "I think they're fake ones, though. So it's okay."

A beat.

"I'm Becky." And another. "What's your name?"

"Draining. Oh. I don't know. Thank you?" He switches the channel.

"What's draining?" She tips her head a little. There's something off, here, but she has no idea what it is. "The sky?" she inches a little closer to him, lowering herself to sit near him, legs criss-crossed one under the other, facing him so she can watch him.

She decides to try the introduction again. "I'm Becky," she puts a hand on her chest, indicating herself. "Who are you?" she moves that same hand out, fingers stretched toward him.

At least he does seem to notice her, as he stares at her outstretched hand. He doesn't make a move to shake her hand, but he does hand her the remote control. Maybe that's what she wanted, right? "The Scarlet Speedster, the Crimson Comet, you weren't fast enough."

She blinks and looks down at the remote he'd pressed into her hand. Not her intention, but okay. She clicks the channel around a couple of times and just leaves it on some show that's teaching how drums are made. Huh, that's kinda cool--

Right.

She looks back at him. "Okay, I don't know what that means, but I'mma call you Scarlet til I know anything different." She sets the remote aside and considers his words again. "Fast enough for what?"

"Red and dead. You can't lock up the darkness." He frowns to himself, then at the drumming program.

"Do you have darkness in you?" She asks, squinting a little at his reaction to his own words. "I think everyone does, to a certain degree. Parts of you, you don't want to exist, that you wanna hide from the world. You just have to not let that part control the rest of you."

"So many faces. I don't know him. Zoom. Is he here?" There's a tone of concern, here.

"Mm-hm. Everyone's kind of multiple people, right? Who are you are with your family, or friends, or at school or work... it's still you at the core, but it's all a little different every time." She tips her head at the sudden concern in his voice. "I haven't met anyone called Zoom." And he sounds like an idiot, if that's the name he decided to go by.

"Barry, Barry, Bart and Barry." He shakes his head. "Nora can't be here. Who are you again?"

She's barely following him, but whatever. He's talking to her rather than at her like he was before, so she's taking it as a win. "Are you Barry?" She tips her head. Who is Nora? "I'm Becky."

"Barry," he says, agreeably before picking up one of the chalk markers. "One of many. How many?"

"Sounds like at least three so far?" She has no clue he means literally the same person. There are probably plenty of people named Barry. "I've met tons of Rebecca's. I even had two in my class in school."

"No. No. I don't know where Snart is."

"Who?" She squinches her eyes up at him.

"I don't know when he is either."

"When-- oh. You mean, like, time travel?" Mick had mentioned that. That was how she was here, or...something. Instead of being busy not existing because she'd died.

"I don't know where we are."

"Well, that makes two of us, buddy." Without thinking much about it, she reaches over and pats his shoulder lightly, an act of camaraderie more than anything.

"Joe knows. Joe knows."

"I have no idea who Joe is." She points out, staring at him.

"He'll be upset."

She frowns a little at that. "Why?" Upset men didn't tend to spell good things, in her experience.

"She runs into danger."