[Leia was well aware that Felix was trying his very hardest to make a good impression on her. She was also well aware that he was trying to "get into her pants", as the people of Earth put it. She'd had her fair share of admirers on Alderaan and even within the Rebel Alliance, but she'd given none of them the time of day - save one Han Solo, and that had taken a small eternity. (And Luke before him, but that was another story altogether, and one best forgotten.)]
[When Felix had offered to take her out for coffee, Leia wondered if she should've said no, not wanting to give him the wrong idea - but she had to admit that he was good company, and that a cup of coffee or two were more than welcome in Hell. Thus, she'd said yes to his invitation, which was why she was currently seated at Has Beans, waiting for the mercenary to arrive.]
[Leia was a tough nut to crack, and Felix rather enjoyed that about her. Women often fell too easily for his charm and there was a certain lack of challenge in wooing them. But with Leia, it wasn't nearly that easy and he got a kick out of it.
So just because she agree for coffee didn't mean she was capitulating so easily and he was well aware that it would take a lot more than coffee to seduce her into his bed. Either way, he was enjoying the chase and for a Heaven transfer, she was enjoyable company. Leia lacked the haughty, superior to the rest of you filthy demons air so many of her compatriots espoused. She'd come to Hell to 'save' people and while her goals were borderline laughable to Felix, she was enjoyable enough company.
He'd been teasing her since they'd first met about only revealing his face to her on the 'fifth date' but considering Felix had laconically called most of their meetings 'dates' then this technically counted, right?
Enough so that he'd forgone his armor in favor of approaching her today in plainclothes instead of that familiar battle-scared armor. Felix had opted for a dress shirt with a tie and a simple pair of slacks which were perfectly acceptable 'date' clothes without being totally over the top. The dark-haired man who approached Leia's table was handsome enough even with the light scaring and uncanny looking feline eyes.] Leia?
[Even without the vocal modulators built into his helmet, the voice was recognizable all the same.]
[Her senses may not have been as honed as Luke's when it came to the use of the Force, but she recognized Felix's distinct signature when he entered the coffee shop. Thus, it was no surprise when he came up to her.]
Yes, I'm Leia. It's not me who's suddenly showing my face.
[She gave him a wry smile, gesturing to the empty seat in front of her. His appearance didn't bother her one bit - after all, she'd seen worse in war and was well aware that he'd fought his own share.]
[It also amused her that he'd claimed this as their "fifth date" when she had no idea when the first four had taken place.]
[They had nothing like the Force where he was from and while he'd knew Kylo in passing, they'd never exactly talked about it. He would have been weirded out at the least to think she could 'spot' him entering a room.]
Well, it's a little hard to drink coffee through a helmet. Besides, this practically counts as the fifth date.
[He said with a broad smile before moving to claim the chair opposite her.] Also, I could have been any devastating handsome lech approaching you so I figured it only fair to alert you to my presence.
[She crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave him a dry look.] Did our first meeting with Fluffernutter count as one? Because I'm fairly sure that wasn't planned.
Your gallantry leaves me speechless. Thank you. [She gave him a gracious nod of her head, but her eyes danced with wicked humor. She knew that he knew she could handle herself - if any said lech tried to get too comfortable and there were no other options available to her, she would have bashed him over the head with her chair. Simple as.]
[Besides, she wasn't disillusioned - for all that he disavowed persons of shady origins, she was well aware that he was in Hell for a reason. She wanted to know what it was to see if he'd turned over a new leaf or was even repentant at the least. She hoped so, because he could use that silver tongue to help others.]
That seems kinda counter-intuitive, doesn't it? An easy way to remove the thing supposedly protecting this gorgeous head of mine? The suit is supposed to be rated for space and hard-vacuum, so there's not a lot of easy access anywhere.
[Her question drew an amused sound from the demon and the look he cast across the table at her was filled with mischief.] what, have you never heard of spontaneous dates? I'd say meeting you is the best thing that could have come out of the Fluffernutter debacle.
[He was all too aware that Leia was more than capable of taking care of business. She'd proven that the first time they'd met when she'd thrown herself fearlessly into danger facing off against an enraged Hellcat without the benefit of any kind of armor or protection. But if she were hoping for Felix to turn over a new leaf, they would be building snowmen in Hell before that happened so to speak.]
[Leia had to let out a laugh. His cockiness reminded her of a certain scoundrel, who, when presented with a slew of insults, was most affronted when she called him scruffy.]
The face might be a perk, but most important to me are the other components of the head. Mainly its contents.
[She pointed a finger to her temple to illustrate.]
I thought dates were planned - otherwise they didn't count as dates because we weren't able to put our best foot forward and be romantic. [The last word was said with a wrinkle of her nose. Suitors on Alderaan had tried their best to woo her, but she just didn't have time for any of that nonsense.]
Anyway, come on - I need my caffeine fix. [Leia stood, making her way to the counter.]
I like to think I'm smarter than the average bear. Sure, I might not have fancy manners but I'm hardly a brute. And certainly a cut above the average demon around here.
[His tone was arch but there was a smile in his tone. If Leia was expecting humbleness though, she was going to be sorely disappointed. He might not sound boastful but Felix was definitely well aware of his, ahem, many attributes.]
Hmmmn, I'm going to have to disagree there. Sometimes, the best dates are spontaneous and unexpected. And you don't strike me as the type of woman who wants grandiose romantic gestures. But hey, if I'm wrong, feel free to correct me and I'll start trotting out my really good material.
[Felix teased with a smile before moving to help clear her path a little bit. Angels weren't always welcome in Little Hades and even with his slender build, he still had almost a foot on her so he had a slightly improved vantage point.] Whatever m'lady wishes, it's my treat.
[Oh, he could keep up this insufferable act for a while and judging by the twinkle in his eyes, he just might.]
[Look, it wasn’t a surprise that Tucker liked the holidays: it was an excuse for a) presents, b) mistletoe makeouts, and c) sex in front of a fire place. This shit? This shit was made for him.
And even better yet, his kid was coming to Chorus. Junior would be here in a matter of minutes after how long of being apart? War was over and now….well, Wash naked (aside from a big read bow) on his bed would be a great present, but this actually trumped it. And sure, Tucker and the Freelancer could have gone there to visit, but there were a lot of people here who wouldn’t mind seeing him again, so it seemed more fitting. Family for the holidays, that’s how it should be. New friends with the lieutenants and Kimball and Grey.
Fuck, maybe not Grey. She would be eager to inspect the alien child of a human male. Nix that.
Tucker tugged on his second combat boot, barely tying it, and he stood there in a simple pair of fatigues while waiting for Wash. They were meeting for the first time, and while the Freelancer had seen the pictures, had heard the stories, meeting him was something altogether. Especially considering the alien aspect. Would he be able to get over it? See past that?
Because they were screwed if he couldn’t.]
So, you actually ready for this?
[He probably wasn’t, but it didn’t hurt to ask. Meeting your…whatevertheywere’s kid for the first time? Big pressure. But Tucker was too busy smiling to feel it. They had this, Wash just needed to keep calm. Easy, right?
[Of course Wash was freaking out on the inside but the ex-Freelancer managed to compose himself to such an extent that most of that internal anxiety was masked. He had a woeful abundance of experience at having to mask his true feelings thanks to his long and protracted battle with the likes of Leonard Church and Project Freelancer.
But what he was experiencing right now was based more in the concern of what the future held instead of the past. Could he fight his own knee-jerk reactions to an Alien standing right there in front of him considering he’d fought their kind to bloody completion during the war? Junior was an innocent, had absolutely nothing to do with the sins of his people and then there was the fact that technically he was still technically half-human.
And that was about the time his brain always started to short-circuit because what the fuck. How did that even….nope, he didn’t want to dwell on the how or why in that matter. But more than that, he was more worried about what Junior would think of him. If Tucker’s son hated him or viewed him as competition for his father’s affections then that might very well shatter the tenuous relationship they had.
That wasn’t even taking into account what might happen if the people of Chorus saw an alien roaming around their planet. It was just one more piece in an already complicated and anxiety-fraught problem that filled Wash with dread.
But when Tucker turned to him with that mile-wide smile on his face, he couldn’t find it in himself to ruin any of his enjoyment with the realities and fears facing them.] As ready as I’ll ever be?
[Wash's nerves might have been hidden, but Tucker knew; you didn't spend as much time together without picking on the little nuances of things, on how he carried himself, on the tenseness around his mouth Tucker had been rolling his eyes because of course Wash would be nervous, and he would be lying if he hadn't said that he was, too. There were so many variables, but let's be real: he had hope. He had hope that it would turn out okay, that everyone would get along.
And it wasn't like Tucker wasn't used to navigating through awkward tensions; he had dealt with the Reds and Blues for how long? Freelancers for how many years? With just Wash before this had been a thing? This would be easy. Besides, his kid wanted him to be happy. He just needed him to see that Wash did that for him at the same time as being good for him. Easy, right?
Leaning in, he pressed his lips to Wash's, kissing him short and sweet; it wouldn't do getting hot and bothered and in the zone before he even saw Junior. Talk about new levels of awkward.]
He's going to love you, you know. Just talk to him about what a badass I am, and you're in. [He was kidding. Fuck, he was kidding...at least a little.] Know anything about basketball? He loves it.
[Tucker did know him better than just about any other person left alive sae perhaps for Carolina. The Sim Trooper might be able to see the dark, gnarled and damaged parts of his psyche but Carolina understood it because she'd gone through many of the same traumas and knew first hand. It was those very same traumas that had made Wash so averse to the idea of being in a relationship with anyone. Much less Tucker.
But the younger man had worn him down and now suddenly, he found himself in the utterly alien and terrifying situation where he had to meet his boyfriend's kid.
His alien kid.
Because things weren't awkward enough as it was apparently. Wash made no attempt to duck away from the kiss which was an improvement but he wasn't exactly an active participant in it either. Chorus's bright sun beat down on their heads and seemed to pick out all the gray threaded through his hair and highlighted the nervous tightness around his eyes and mouth as he looked at Tucker oh so solemnly.]
I would settle for doesn't hate me. I don't know anything about kids, Tucker. [Still, Tucker's attempts at levity did have the ghost of a smile pulling at Wash's mouth. If he had been someone else, maybe he would have made an answering joke about how Wash didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with Junior by lying to him about Tucker's supposed badassness.] I know a little bit about Grifball? York and North were really into it.
Dude, you think I knew anything about kids? It wasn't like I was actually prepared to be knocked up and popping out an alien baby, but you just roll with it.
[Damn, what a whirlwind that had been, how unexpectedly protective he felt. It had come naturally after a few false starts; all he had known dads to be were shadowy figures that visited for an hour every couple months and sent moms under-whelming checks when forced to by the courts. That's what his had been like, anyway.
So, how he knew to step up, how he knew that he wanted to actually see his kid, keep him from harm, how his heart lurched when he thought Junior had died in that damn ship, he didn't know. But it was there, it was still there now, and he was glad. For all the bullshit, he was glad.
Tucker pushed that away, his arms wrapping around Wash's neck and looking up at him with something softer than exasperation but no less there.] He won't hate you; I don't think he hates anything other than cauliflower and he gets that shit from me. Stop worrying. If I can find a way to like you, he can, too.
[A smirk, something to ease that joke a little. But this was important, they both knew it; if it didn't work out, if Junior wasn't on board...]
Grifball has nothing on basketball. Yeah, I know it's old, but it's good. Maybe we can hit one of his games now that the war's over. Or shit, maybe you two can play while I ref. I'll only play favorites a little.
[Wash got that particularly vaguely uneasy look on his face he always wore whenever the topic of Tucker being impregnated by some strange alien monster came up. It was good that the younger man loved his kid as much as he did because Wash doubted he would be anywhere near as accepting after such an event.
And from how he had heard the other Sim Troopers discuss Junior, some of them had been more vocal about their opinions than others. Which was why Wash kept his concerns to himself for the most part.] Need I remind you how long it took for you to warm up to me? Or how much you hated me at first?
[The ex-Freelancer reminded him rather dourly. There was tension in the line of Washington's shoulders because he was still working on the whole PDA thing and being comfortable displaying such affections out in public. He had more than his fair share of hangups and he knew it but he also knew it was unfair for Tucker to selfishly just cater to his own wishes and urges. You had to compromise in a relationship and sometimes that meant letting your boyfriend hang all over you like a monkey gym apparently.]
I know you throw balls in baskets? [Typical-fucking-Wash, he could list all the permeation of a M5 battle rifle but ask him about sports and he was completely lost.]
[Hey, you rolled with the punches in instances of male alien gestation; that was all he could do, really. He found out too late, and then it was nothing because sometimes comas were a fucking blessing. But whatever. He had a kid. Even more? He loved his kid, schooled his kid, traveled and supported his kid. He was a dad, even if he hadn't planned on it.
If anyone didn't like it? Well, fuck them. Their loss, because they were the ones missing out. ]
Hey, I'm still warming up to you. [A lascivious grin slid over his lips, easy and smooth like a snake.] Especially at night between the sheets when we start getting busy.
[There was a waggle of those eyebrows before he started to pull away. Fine, no touchy feely in public, but damn if he wasn't going to make comments because he might be respectful, but he wasn't dead. Some things couldn't be changed, dammit, and Tucker was Tucker at the end of the day. Comments and horrible jokes would come.]
Seriously? That's all you know? [The balking feeling of that being it? That just hurt. What kind of guy was he dating?!] Look, you can watch Junior and I play. Or you can play HORSE with him. ...You do know what that is, right?
[All in all, Wash was just glad he hadn't been around them during that time. Sure, it would have been satisfying to put a bullet in Wyoming after he'd kidnapped Junior but he wasn't sad he'd missed the whole alien pregnancy thing.]
Really, I thought we were warm enough. [Uh oh, Wash's ears were starting to go a little pink at the tips as a flush started to crawl down the back of his neck. It was a sure-fire sign of embarrassment on his part. Look, there is a reason he went around in a helmet all the time, okay. His poker face was shit and he was well aware of it.]
And that they're on teams and just run the ball from one side of the field to the other. It doesn't look like it's a very complicated sport, Tucker. I just never had any real interest in it. [He was dating a dude who had no interest in sports unfortunately. So if Tucker was looking for that kind of validation from his boyfriend, then he was going to be sorely disappointed.] Uh...what? I'm going to assume that doesn't involve bringing a horse onto the field. [Field. It was a court, Wash!]
There’s nothing saying that we can’t be warmer, right?
[Oh God, Wash, could you been any more adorable? That blush? That blush that hit his ears? Fuck, man, Tucker could barely handle that, and the moony little sly smile crossing over his lips said as much. Badass Freelancers blushing, who knew that that would be Tucker’s weakspot?
Junior was so going to love him.
…At least until he heard field, which was the same moment that the lovesick expression turned to one of utter abject horror. Field?! Fucking field?! No. No way. That--]
Are you fucking trying to kill me here? Because, dude, I feel like you just shot me through the heart. [His hands were clutched to his chest dramatically, eyes still wide and a little concerned. Where the fuck did this guy grow up, the north goddamn pole?!] You don’t—It’s not a field; it’s a court! There’s no grass! Or horse!
[It wasn’t like Tucker was a big sports guy, but hell, even he knew that!
Okay, deep breath.] Every time you don’t make a shot, you get a letter and try not to spell ‘horse’. [There was more than that, but he was worried about confusing Wash any more than he already was.] Do you even know what color a basketball is?
You mean aside from the imminent arrival of your son and the fact that we're in public? [Some of the embarrassment was fleeing in the face of his irascible nature, a common occurrence when Tucker decided to tease him. He wasn't very good at taking a joke unfortunately, but more importantly, he wasn't necessarily wrong either.]
And I'm the dramaqueen in this relationship, huh? It's just basketball, Tucker. [Wash asked with an arched brow and a decidedly sarcastic tilt to his mouth. Honestly, he didn't get what the big deal was.]
That sounds utterly ridiculous considering unless you play it a lot, you're inevitably going to miss a shot. And give me some credit, Tucker. I might not have grown up on Earth but I do know what color a basketball is. I just have no interest in the sport is all.
You never heard of a quickie? [Which wouldn’t have surprised him if the Freelancer hadn’t, even if he did know that Wash was hardly a virgin even before Tucker wandered into his life. Still, the public thing was always a no-no, and it was frustrating because that idea was hot as hell, but he knew when to push and when to not. Tucker was strangely aware, perceptive, and he cared enough not to make Wash feel pressured.
Don’t ever say that Tucker wasn’t a good partner. ]
Okay, but you know you still haven’t told me what color the ball is. [Nice way to talk around it, Wash; he wasn’t exactly sure he believed him, his skeptical look still writ into his eyes. Come on, Wash, he never expected being a jock would be in your wheelhouse, but the idea of a comfortable Sunday curled on the couch while watching sports had something pleasant to it. And let’s be real: Tucker would be the rather loud dad in the bleachers clothed in his son’s too-large jersey and flag yelling, totally enrapt and excited to watch Junior run down the court.
This was the future. Get used to it.]
Don’t tell Junior you don’t, okay? And what are you going to say to him? [No pressure, Wash. No pressure.]
You never heard of public indecency in front of a child? [Wash challenged back with an arch look that pretty much said it all. It wasn't that Wash was a virgin, he just was picky. And obscenely private. Because in his mind, if anyone knew about his relationship with Tucker, that would paint a giant target on the man's back. Their enemies would use him against Washington and visa versa.]
It's...organge-ish, brown. Look, Tucker, just because I have no interest in basket ball doesn't mean I've never seen one. Sure, things like grifball is way more of a thing back home but give me some credit. I did serve in the military, you know. [Unfortunately for Wash, he had the sinking feeling he was going to become way more exposed to the sport because he knew Junior was on a team and that it was no doubt a major thing between him and his father. Which mean, he would have to suffer through it with as much grace as he could manage for Tucker's sake.]
I thought I'd start him off easy? He's still a kid after all. [Soooooo much pressure. He has no fucking clue what he's going to say, he just can't man up and admit he has no CLUE what to do with a kid. It wasn't like he had a lot of experience with them, much less with alien-human hybrids!]
[ The holidays didn't mean much out here. Just another day in the endless stretch of days that followed the campaign against the Covenant. Someone might remember, might pitch in for some nice booze for the guys to sneak a swig of before setting out the next day, but by and large little had changed.
They were still here, entrenched and watching for enemy movement, and it wasn't even seasonably cold. You'd be forgiven for thinking it was any other time, this far from the Earth, or anything that might have called to some sense of nostalgia or familiarity. None of which Sam had ever really believed in.
He just sat on guard, staring into the distance, silent. Nothing yet. Perhaps this shift would pass uneventfully. Wouldn't that be something? ]
[The days just seemed to all run together as endless campaigns after another ground on by. They hopped from planet to planet as little pieces of humanity fell away as victims to the Covenant war machine. Soldiers did what they could to stay sane in such depressing and oppressive conditions. They gambled, drank to forget the horrors they had seen and shared the tiny shreds of home that managed to filter through military censors.
Letters from worried family members back across a dozen worlds, maybe a freeze-dried treat from home. It was the little things that boosted morale and certain people knew how to game the system. Gates didn't have any concerned family sending him care-packages from home but he still managed to know where the best booze was. Or where the barest of creature comforts could be found even if it meant it had surreptitiously liberated from some idiot major in Command.
Case in point, tonight where he made his way trough the ranks like a fiendish elf passing around a canteen filled with whiskey. Gates knew how to buy goodwill among their squad and shared as much of his ill-gotten gains as he took in which meant they were willing to turn a blind eye or present a united front against officers when they game sniffing around.] Psst, Ortez. A little holiday cheer?
[He called out to Sam as he settled down next to him against the wall.]
[ Sam's eyes cut towards Gates as he made his way closer. He was a slippery one, and Sam still didn't entirely trust him. Something about the man got under his skin, set him on edge, even with the barest smile or idle quip. He chalked it up to irritation with someone who clearly didn't take this fight for their lives seriously, and resigned himself to dismissing him entirely.
So the look given to the man was less than inviting. It didn't last long, his eyes refocusing on the edge of the field from where he could see, around their carefully arranged cover of rubble and ruins. ]
[Isaac was well aware of the fact that Ortez didn't particularly like him and he was okay with that because the feeling was mutual. Ortez was a humorless stick in the mud and all around kinda a dick. Which just made him more of a target for Isaac's teasing and needling unfortunately.
So he just smiled in the face of that coldly cutting look that was sent his way. It was fucking freezing on this planet and they hadn't exactly been kitted out with self-warming blankets or much in the way of winter gear. The wind that came tearing through the lines was as cutting as a razor and for someone like Gates who didn't have so much as an extra ounce of body fat, it was all the more punishingly.] Christ, Ortez, I'm not suggesting you get drunk. Just put a little warmth in your belly.
[Gates rolled his eyes heavenward in open disgust.] But hey, you want to freeze your balls off and suffer nobly, more for the rest of us, I guess.
[ Sam stared stonily back at him before letting his eyes flick back to the field. Why he was even engaging in this discussion in the first place, he didn't know. Maybe the empty, vast nothing, the silence that had taken over, had finally started to get to him.
The only possible explanation for encouraging Issac's behavior. ]
Alcohol actually lowers body temperature. You just think it's making you warmer.
[Now it was Isaac's turn to give him a completely unamused look absolutely rife with disgust.] Maybe not but I guarantee I won't be minding the cold as much as you.
[He finally said glibly and sarcastically saluted Ortez before bringing the flask up to his mouth to take a sip from it. Where the contraband hooch had come from was uncertain but this had the burn of some kind of home-brew shit that trailed fire down his throat but as promised, it did put a warm pit in his belly which was all you could ask for on a night like this.] 'Sides, ain't like the damned Covies have any more of an interest in leaving their nice warm bunks than we do. We're just going to freeze our nuts off and when dawn comes, then they'll attack.
[Gates predicted confidently while tilting his head back to look out into the darkness beyond their position. There was no flare of plasma fire or the eerie gleam of Banshees running lights in the night. It was quiet for now but who knew if Isaac's prediction would prove to be accurate.]
[ And if Gates is unconcerned with the risks at hand, then it's his head. He's a soldier like the rest of them, and when the time comes he'll fight. He'll follow orders, as the rest of them are expected to do. With their SO nowhere in sight, Ortez isn't going to be the one to reprimand him in his stead.
Not tonight.
Strangely quiet out there. Maybe it was the day of the year -- not that the Covenant recognized a human holiday, naturally -- but it almost seemed peaceful out there. A moment's respite in the blood and madness of the fight.
And even so, it did little to set him at ease. Every part of him still felt tense, waiting for something. For action, movement, order. Something. So Gates wasn't the only one feeling a little restless. ]
I understand that, Ortez. All I'm trying to say is a little nip from a bottle isn't going to make you fall down drunk and incapable of fighting the Covies. God knows it might even help with this surly-ass attitude of yours.
[In truth? He doubted it. Samuel Ortez probably didn't know how to remove the stick up his ass long enough to unclench enough to do something as human as share a drink with his squad mates.]
'Sides, they could just decide to glass us from space and all of this would be a moot point. [Well, that was certainly a cheerful thought, now wasn't it? Gates was a big fan of gallows humor unfortunately and just threw that out there without a care in the world.] I've seen how they treat their own men. They let those fucking Hunters just chew through the slow ones like they're just more meat for the grinder. I doubt they'll care about a few Grunts of Jackals. Not to mention a bunch of filthy heretics like us, Ortez.
[In the darkness his teeth gleamed in a lupine smile that was all teeth and vicious humor.]
[ To that, Locus says nothing. If they die, they die. That's what soldiers do. Meanwhile, he doesn't plan on abandoning his position. They'll hold this little spit of land until they're overwhelmed or the planet is glassed, but either way he'll have done his duty. Served his purpose.
The chances of which were extraordinarily high.
His eyes darted back towards Gates where he crouched, all teeth and sharp edges, like one of his blades. He'd die. They all would. And the weight of that threatened to swell up past the numb acceptance he'd nailed in place now and then. He might not like Gates, but--
Swallowing once, tightly, his eyes darted to the side. Then, quietly, he took his hand off his weapon to reach out for the canteen. ]
[Call it battlefield fatigue or something else but after years of this constant bloody war but Gates had come to terms with his own mortality a long time ago. Now, he treated death with an irreverence that probably would have seemed strange to outsiders. But for a soldier, sometimes it was the only way to keep hold of your tenuous sanity when facing the shit they faced.
There was a very good chance they would die here. Or maybe they'd live to see another day because they had defied how many other times?
Isaac sat there in the dark with his knife-sharp smile which kicked up a few degrees when he saw Sam's hand reaching for the canteen. Their fingers brushed as he exchange the canteen with Ortez and his bared fingertips were icy in the night air. Like many people in their squad, Isaac had opted to cut his tactical gloves back so there was no chance of the material getting tangled with the trigger guard of his weapon or interfere with his range of motion in combat. That meant of course that they were exposed to the elements in weather such as this but the trade-off was worth it in his mind.] Atta boy, come join us on the Darkside.
It's been a day since the coup on the Tartarus, since those mercs had told them to grip the bars if they wanted to take up this lucrative job offer. Well, Wash wasn't stupid. He didn't trust anyone enough to think that they really had their best interests at heart.
He'd gripped the bars and he'd survived.
And now he's apparently part of some army, but they've done a shit job at explaining what they want and he isn't about to start trusting them now. What he does know, is that the Counsellor is on board, and if nothing else, Wash can hold a grudge and now is the perfect time to clear that. So if he's nosing around, trying to find out where they've taken him... well, no-one's actually told him not to.
The last people Felix had expected to find on the Tartarus were yet more Freelancers. Price was bad enough but after all the headache and annoyance Carolina and the Simulation Troopers had been on Chorus, he'd wanted to immediately put a bullet in Washington's brain rather than deal with another one.
Locus had firmly overridden him on that and on his suggestion of taking Price out as well. Honestly, what the fuck was with his partner and his enamored obsession with these Project Freelancer rejects?!
So now he was totally not sulking as he took inventory of what the guards on the Tartarus laughingly called their armory when he heard the faintest sound of footfalls pacing nearby. Felix pulled his magnum and spun around to point it directly at Washington when the Freelancer cleared the doorway.
"Looks like we have an infestation on this ship. What are you doing down here, little rat?"
Wash just blinks and stares back at him when he points the gun in his direction. He feels a little naked without the full armour, but he's got better at hiding his reactions without it over the last few years. He'd always been good at surviving.
Felix. That's this one's name, isn't it? The mouthy one who'd made them the offer.
With the helmet, it was impossible to gauge Felix's expression of course and unfortunately, his body language was equally hard to read. So far, the man had proven himself to be mercurial and absolutely ruthless. He and his partner had vented most of the prisoners of the Tartarus without so much as blinking an eye.
So Wash was totally within his rights to be wary around the merc. Felix's helmet tilted ever so slightly and looked a lot like a cat eying a particularly juicy mouse. "You're not planning on hunting him down and skinning him alive for all the terrible things he did to you and your friends back in Project Freelancer, are you? Cause, while I can appreciate the need for revenge, Locus seems to think we need him." Locus being the operative word. Not Felix so it would seem.
Wash just looks back. He really wishes he had his helmet, but he isn't about the back down on this. Survival at any cost. That's how he lives now. In the end, everyone here is just a means to an end. The Counsellor is in the way.
"No, I was planning to sit down and have a calm rational discussion with him," he says dryly. "And they weren't my friends." Just people he'd worked with once upon a time.
"Well, hell, that's boring as hell. I would have even lent you a knife and everything." The raving lunatic even sounded regretful but at least he finally let the gun drop to his side rather than pointing it directly at Washington.
"Not your friends, huh? I'm pretty sure I hear the souls of Agent New York and North Dakota crying out a little from the afterlife being so callously downgraded. Usually, people try and remember the dead more fondly. And here the Counselor was telling us what fast friends you guys were." Felix was an absolute asshole. "I guess it's probably good they're dead so you don't have to break their heart with that little bit of truth, huh?"
"Of course you would," Wash replies, making a mental note that he never wants this guy near him with a knife.
Of course the Counsellor told him that shit. It seems to be Aiden Price's purpose in life to fuck him over. But that's fine. Apart from the clenching of his jaw, there's not much outward sign of his feelings about that. At least partly because he's not sure what they are anymore. The outright rage has burnt lower over the past couple of years, turned into a spiteful little ball in the pit of his stomach that devours emotions and spits out ice. North and York are long dead.
He inclines his head, looking at Felix. "Did he tell you that they betrayed me? That I blew up their corpses without hesitation. That I shot North's sister in the head for turning on me? Friends are liabilities."
"Whelp, too late now, offer is off the table." That was probably in Washington's best interest. Especially considering Felix had been there cleaning the knife he'd pulled out of the pilot's back when he was frog-marched onto the bridge by a pair of space pirates the day before.
Felix had been needling Wash, poking at his defenses and testing out weak spots with his words. And the other man had done a fairly decent job of masking his anger except for the traitorous bunching of jaw muscles when he clenched his jaw.
"That's not how he phrased it, no. But it is interesting you would immediately jump to betrayal and raining down retribution on people. You sure you're not planning on gutting Price? You don't really strike me as the live and let live type, Agent Washington." The merc deliberately used his former title just to dig at Wash a little bit more.
"Price is good at phrasing things to dig into your head," he says. He's seen it in action, and it's the only reason Price has survived this long on a prison ship. He knows which buttons to press and how to seem reasonable. "I've waited a long time. What's a bit longer?" He'll get him eventually. And then he'll take his time.
"It's almost like you're saying he's just trying to blow smoke up our asses. Which, I mean, if you can't trust the word of a convicted asshole implicated in the biggest military scandal of the century, who can you trust?" Felix was laying the sarcasm on a bit thick now. But considering the man had been advocating for Price's death, it wasn't too surprising he wasn't exactly a fan.
Locus had overridden him on Price, just as he had with Washington. Because Felix didn't trust the Freelancer any farther than he could toss him with one pinkie. "When you decide to gut him like a fish, hit me up and maybe I'll even be a pal and let you borrow one of my knives." Jesus, was this dude serious or was it just some demented fucking act? "Locus will probably be pissed off but really, how many Feeelancers do we really need. And it seems to me, you have way more valuable intel about the Sim Troopers than Price does. Weren't you buddy-buddies with them? Well, buddy-buddies in that they too abandoned you and man you must have a super winning personality, don't you?"
Wash shrugs, giving Felix a flat look before he snorts softly and looks away. At least he's not entirely stupid. "Just a warning. Your funeral if you don't want to listen." If they were going to ignore him, that was fine. He didn't care. He didn't care about much.
He definitely isn't planning to trust these men who came with their ultimatums. He just isn't planning to die any time soon either. It's a thought that jolts him a little. He remembers how ready he had been to die, how he'd wanted it when he faced the Meta and stood with Alpha. But now? No, he isn't planning to die.
Sim troopers. His lips press tight together for a moment. "They were a means to an end. And next time I see them, I'll probably kill them." Just another set of people who'd betrayed him, another set who he couldn't trust, who he'd never been important enough to. "That's rich coming from you."
"While I'm touched by your concern, I know better than to accept what Price has to say at face value. He's going to string us along as long as he can because after that, we don't really have much use for him. A less trusting man would think that means he's expendable or is liable to find themselves in an airlock." This fucking guy. It was both a mocking taunt and a reminder of just how tenuous Washington's position was all at the same time.
Locus would have told him to shut up by now but his keeper wasn't there to muzzle him so the merc let his mouth run unchecked.
"Uh there is no 'probably' in this equation, Agent Washington. Your job is to kill them and Carolina if it comes to that. The Simulation Troopers are becoming a pain in our ass and there will be no quarter offered. Is that going to be a problem for you?" The voice that filtered through the speakers of Felix's helmet was silky but as dangerous as the naked edge of a blade.
"As long as you know that," Wash says flatly. Appearing unconcerned about his own future isn't an act. He's spent too much time over the last few years not expecting to have one. He hadn't expected to be getting out of prison so this is already a step up.
God, his standards are rock bottom aren't they?
He tenses a little when Felix mentioned Carolina. He'd assumed that she was dead, at least until this had happened. But after that flicker of doubt, his stance hardens, jaw clenching. He hasn't seen her in years. She's dead to him already. She'd survived and had never even tried to find him. "Not a problem," he says. "I'll look forward to it."
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lightofdawn) wrote2016-12-10 10:34 pm
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[When Felix had offered to take her out for coffee, Leia wondered if she should've said no, not wanting to give him the wrong idea - but she had to admit that he was good company, and that a cup of coffee or two were more than welcome in Hell. Thus, she'd said yes to his invitation, which was why she was currently seated at Has Beans, waiting for the mercenary to arrive.]
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So just because she agree for coffee didn't mean she was capitulating so easily and he was well aware that it would take a lot more than coffee to seduce her into his bed. Either way, he was enjoying the chase and for a Heaven transfer, she was enjoyable company. Leia lacked the haughty, superior to the rest of you filthy demons air so many of her compatriots espoused. She'd come to Hell to 'save' people and while her goals were borderline laughable to Felix, she was enjoyable enough company.
He'd been teasing her since they'd first met about only revealing his face to her on the 'fifth date' but considering Felix had laconically called most of their meetings 'dates' then this technically counted, right?
Enough so that he'd forgone his armor in favor of approaching her today in plainclothes instead of that familiar battle-scared armor. Felix had opted for a dress shirt with a tie and a simple pair of slacks which were perfectly acceptable 'date' clothes without being totally over the top. The dark-haired man who approached Leia's table was handsome enough even with the light scaring and uncanny looking feline eyes.] Leia?
[Even without the vocal modulators built into his helmet, the voice was recognizable all the same.]
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Yes, I'm Leia. It's not me who's suddenly showing my face.
[She gave him a wry smile, gesturing to the empty seat in front of her. His appearance didn't bother her one bit - after all, she'd seen worse in war and was well aware that he'd fought his own share.]
[It also amused her that he'd claimed this as their "fifth date" when she had no idea when the first four had taken place.]
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Well, it's a little hard to drink coffee through a helmet. Besides, this practically counts as the fifth date.
[He said with a broad smile before moving to claim the chair opposite her.] Also, I could have been any devastating handsome lech approaching you so I figured it only fair to alert you to my presence.
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[She crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave him a dry look.] Did our first meeting with Fluffernutter count as one? Because I'm fairly sure that wasn't planned.
Your gallantry leaves me speechless. Thank you. [She gave him a gracious nod of her head, but her eyes danced with wicked humor. She knew that he knew she could handle herself - if any said lech tried to get too comfortable and there were no other options available to her, she would have bashed him over the head with her chair. Simple as.]
[Besides, she wasn't disillusioned - for all that he disavowed persons of shady origins, she was well aware that he was in Hell for a reason. She wanted to know what it was to see if he'd turned over a new leaf or was even repentant at the least. She hoped so, because he could use that silver tongue to help others.]
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[Her question drew an amused sound from the demon and the look he cast across the table at her was filled with mischief.] what, have you never heard of spontaneous dates? I'd say meeting you is the best thing that could have come out of the Fluffernutter debacle.
[He was all too aware that Leia was more than capable of taking care of business. She'd proven that the first time they'd met when she'd thrown herself fearlessly into danger facing off against an enraged Hellcat without the benefit of any kind of armor or protection. But if she were hoping for Felix to turn over a new leaf, they would be building snowmen in Hell before that happened so to speak.]
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The face might be a perk, but most important to me are the other components of the head. Mainly its contents.
[She pointed a finger to her temple to illustrate.]
I thought dates were planned - otherwise they didn't count as dates because we weren't able to put our best foot forward and be romantic. [The last word was said with a wrinkle of her nose. Suitors on Alderaan had tried their best to woo her, but she just didn't have time for any of that nonsense.]
Anyway, come on - I need my caffeine fix. [Leia stood, making her way to the counter.]
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[His tone was arch but there was a smile in his tone. If Leia was expecting humbleness though, she was going to be sorely disappointed. He might not sound boastful but Felix was definitely well aware of his, ahem, many attributes.]
Hmmmn, I'm going to have to disagree there. Sometimes, the best dates are spontaneous and unexpected. And you don't strike me as the type of woman who wants grandiose romantic gestures. But hey, if I'm wrong, feel free to correct me and I'll start trotting out my really good material.
[Felix teased with a smile before moving to help clear her path a little bit. Angels weren't always welcome in Little Hades and even with his slender build, he still had almost a foot on her so he had a slightly improved vantage point.] Whatever m'lady wishes, it's my treat.
[Oh, he could keep up this insufferable act for a while and judging by the twinkle in his eyes, he just might.]
Wash, Tucker, and Junior
And even better yet, his kid was coming to Chorus. Junior would be here in a matter of minutes after how long of being apart? War was over and now….well, Wash naked (aside from a big read bow) on his bed would be a great present, but this actually trumped it. And sure, Tucker and the Freelancer could have gone there to visit, but there were a lot of people here who wouldn’t mind seeing him again, so it seemed more fitting. Family for the holidays, that’s how it should be. New friends with the lieutenants and Kimball and Grey.
Fuck, maybe not Grey. She would be eager to inspect the alien child of a human male. Nix that.
Tucker tugged on his second combat boot, barely tying it, and he stood there in a simple pair of fatigues while waiting for Wash. They were meeting for the first time, and while the Freelancer had seen the pictures, had heard the stories, meeting him was something altogether. Especially considering the alien aspect. Would he be able to get over it? See past that?
Because they were screwed if he couldn’t.]
So, you actually ready for this?
[He probably wasn’t, but it didn’t hurt to ask. Meeting your…whatevertheywere’s kid for the first time? Big pressure. But Tucker was too busy smiling to feel it. They had this, Wash just needed to keep calm. Easy, right?
…ha.]
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But what he was experiencing right now was based more in the concern of what the future held instead of the past. Could he fight his own knee-jerk reactions to an Alien standing right there in front of him considering he’d fought their kind to bloody completion during the war? Junior was an innocent, had absolutely nothing to do with the sins of his people and then there was the fact that technically he was still technically half-human.
And that was about the time his brain always started to short-circuit because what the fuck. How did that even….nope, he didn’t want to dwell on the how or why in that matter. But more than that, he was more worried about what Junior would think of him. If Tucker’s son hated him or viewed him as competition for his father’s affections then that might very well shatter the tenuous relationship they had.
That wasn’t even taking into account what might happen if the people of Chorus saw an alien roaming around their planet. It was just one more piece in an already complicated and anxiety-fraught problem that filled Wash with dread.
But when Tucker turned to him with that mile-wide smile on his face, he couldn’t find it in himself to ruin any of his enjoyment with the realities and fears facing them.] As ready as I’ll ever be?
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And it wasn't like Tucker wasn't used to navigating through awkward tensions; he had dealt with the Reds and Blues for how long? Freelancers for how many years? With just Wash before this had been a thing? This would be easy. Besides, his kid wanted him to be happy. He just needed him to see that Wash did that for him at the same time as being good for him. Easy, right?
Leaning in, he pressed his lips to Wash's, kissing him short and sweet; it wouldn't do getting hot and bothered and in the zone before he even saw Junior. Talk about new levels of awkward.]
He's going to love you, you know. Just talk to him about what a badass I am, and you're in. [He was kidding. Fuck, he was kidding...at least a little.] Know anything about basketball? He loves it.
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But the younger man had worn him down and now suddenly, he found himself in the utterly alien and terrifying situation where he had to meet his boyfriend's kid.
His alien kid.
Because things weren't awkward enough as it was apparently. Wash made no attempt to duck away from the kiss which was an improvement but he wasn't exactly an active participant in it either. Chorus's bright sun beat down on their heads and seemed to pick out all the gray threaded through his hair and highlighted the nervous tightness around his eyes and mouth as he looked at Tucker oh so solemnly.]
I would settle for doesn't hate me. I don't know anything about kids, Tucker. [Still, Tucker's attempts at levity did have the ghost of a smile pulling at Wash's mouth. If he had been someone else, maybe he would have made an answering joke about how Wash didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with Junior by lying to him about Tucker's supposed badassness.] I know a little bit about Grifball? York and North were really into it.
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[Damn, what a whirlwind that had been, how unexpectedly protective he felt. It had come naturally after a few false starts; all he had known dads to be were shadowy figures that visited for an hour every couple months and sent moms under-whelming checks when forced to by the courts. That's what his had been like, anyway.
So, how he knew to step up, how he knew that he wanted to actually see his kid, keep him from harm, how his heart lurched when he thought Junior had died in that damn ship, he didn't know. But it was there, it was still there now, and he was glad. For all the bullshit, he was glad.
Tucker pushed that away, his arms wrapping around Wash's neck and looking up at him with something softer than exasperation but no less there.] He won't hate you; I don't think he hates anything other than cauliflower and he gets that shit from me. Stop worrying. If I can find a way to like you, he can, too.
[A smirk, something to ease that joke a little. But this was important, they both knew it; if it didn't work out, if Junior wasn't on board...]
Grifball has nothing on basketball. Yeah, I know it's old, but it's good. Maybe we can hit one of his games now that the war's over. Or shit, maybe you two can play while I ref. I'll only play favorites a little.
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And from how he had heard the other Sim Troopers discuss Junior, some of them had been more vocal about their opinions than others. Which was why Wash kept his concerns to himself for the most part.] Need I remind you how long it took for you to warm up to me? Or how much you hated me at first?
[The ex-Freelancer reminded him rather dourly. There was tension in the line of Washington's shoulders because he was still working on the whole PDA thing and being comfortable displaying such affections out in public. He had more than his fair share of hangups and he knew it but he also knew it was unfair for Tucker to selfishly just cater to his own wishes and urges. You had to compromise in a relationship and sometimes that meant letting your boyfriend hang all over you like a monkey gym apparently.]
I know you throw balls in baskets? [Typical-fucking-Wash, he could list all the permeation of a M5 battle rifle but ask him about sports and he was completely lost.]
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If anyone didn't like it? Well, fuck them. Their loss, because they were the ones missing out. ]
Hey, I'm still warming up to you. [A lascivious grin slid over his lips, easy and smooth like a snake.] Especially at night between the sheets when we start getting busy.
[There was a waggle of those eyebrows before he started to pull away. Fine, no touchy feely in public, but damn if he wasn't going to make comments because he might be respectful, but he wasn't dead. Some things couldn't be changed, dammit, and Tucker was Tucker at the end of the day. Comments and horrible jokes would come.]
Seriously? That's all you know? [The balking feeling of that being it? That just hurt. What kind of guy was he dating?!] Look, you can watch Junior and I play. Or you can play HORSE with him. ...You do know what that is, right?
[Don't break his heart, Wash.]
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Really, I thought we were warm enough. [Uh oh, Wash's ears were starting to go a little pink at the tips as a flush started to crawl down the back of his neck. It was a sure-fire sign of embarrassment on his part. Look, there is a reason he went around in a helmet all the time, okay. His poker face was shit and he was well aware of it.]
And that they're on teams and just run the ball from one side of the field to the other. It doesn't look like it's a very complicated sport, Tucker. I just never had any real interest in it. [He was dating a dude who had no interest in sports unfortunately. So if Tucker was looking for that kind of validation from his boyfriend, then he was going to be sorely disappointed.] Uh...what? I'm going to assume that doesn't involve bringing a horse onto the field. [Field. It was a court, Wash!]
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[Oh God, Wash, could you been any more adorable? That blush? That blush that hit his ears? Fuck, man, Tucker could barely handle that, and the moony little sly smile crossing over his lips said as much. Badass Freelancers blushing, who knew that that would be Tucker’s weakspot?
Junior was so going to love him.
…At least until he heard field, which was the same moment that the lovesick expression turned to one of utter abject horror. Field?! Fucking field?! No. No way. That--]
Are you fucking trying to kill me here? Because, dude, I feel like you just shot me through the heart. [His hands were clutched to his chest dramatically, eyes still wide and a little concerned. Where the fuck did this guy grow up, the north goddamn pole?!] You don’t—It’s not a field; it’s a court! There’s no grass! Or horse!
[It wasn’t like Tucker was a big sports guy, but hell, even he knew that!
Okay, deep breath.] Every time you don’t make a shot, you get a letter and try not to spell ‘horse’. [There was more than that, but he was worried about confusing Wash any more than he already was.] Do you even know what color a basketball is?
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And I'm the dramaqueen in this relationship, huh? It's just basketball, Tucker. [Wash asked with an arched brow and a decidedly sarcastic tilt to his mouth. Honestly, he didn't get what the big deal was.]
That sounds utterly ridiculous considering unless you play it a lot, you're inevitably going to miss a shot. And give me some credit, Tucker. I might not have grown up on Earth but I do know what color a basketball is. I just have no interest in the sport is all.
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Don’t ever say that Tucker wasn’t a good partner. ]
Okay, but you know you still haven’t told me what color the ball is. [Nice way to talk around it, Wash; he wasn’t exactly sure he believed him, his skeptical look still writ into his eyes. Come on, Wash, he never expected being a jock would be in your wheelhouse, but the idea of a comfortable Sunday curled on the couch while watching sports had something pleasant to it. And let’s be real: Tucker would be the rather loud dad in the bleachers clothed in his son’s too-large jersey and flag yelling, totally enrapt and excited to watch Junior run down the court.
This was the future. Get used to it.]
Don’t tell Junior you don’t, okay? And what are you going to say to him? [No pressure, Wash. No pressure.]
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It's...organge-ish, brown. Look, Tucker, just because I have no interest in basket ball doesn't mean I've never seen one. Sure, things like grifball is way more of a thing back home but give me some credit. I did serve in the military, you know. [Unfortunately for Wash, he had the sinking feeling he was going to become way more exposed to the sport because he knew Junior was on a team and that it was no doubt a major thing between him and his father. Which mean, he would have to suffer through it with as much grace as he could manage for Tucker's sake.]
I thought I'd start him off easy? He's still a kid after all. [Soooooo much pressure. He has no fucking clue what he's going to say, he just can't man up and admit he has no CLUE what to do with a kid. It wasn't like he had a lot of experience with them, much less with alien-human hybrids!]
Christmas on the Battlefield
They were still here, entrenched and watching for enemy movement, and it wasn't even seasonably cold. You'd be forgiven for thinking it was any other time, this far from the Earth, or anything that might have called to some sense of nostalgia or familiarity. None of which Sam had ever really believed in.
He just sat on guard, staring into the distance, silent. Nothing yet. Perhaps this shift would pass uneventfully. Wouldn't that be something? ]
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Letters from worried family members back across a dozen worlds, maybe a freeze-dried treat from home. It was the little things that boosted morale and certain people knew how to game the system. Gates didn't have any concerned family sending him care-packages from home but he still managed to know where the best booze was. Or where the barest of creature comforts could be found even if it meant it had surreptitiously liberated from some idiot major in Command.
Case in point, tonight where he made his way trough the ranks like a fiendish elf passing around a canteen filled with whiskey. Gates knew how to buy goodwill among their squad and shared as much of his ill-gotten gains as he took in which meant they were willing to turn a blind eye or present a united front against officers when they game sniffing around.] Psst, Ortez. A little holiday cheer?
[He called out to Sam as he settled down next to him against the wall.]
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[ Sam's eyes cut towards Gates as he made his way closer. He was a slippery one, and Sam still didn't entirely trust him. Something about the man got under his skin, set him on edge, even with the barest smile or idle quip. He chalked it up to irritation with someone who clearly didn't take this fight for their lives seriously, and resigned himself to dismissing him entirely.
So the look given to the man was less than inviting. It didn't last long, his eyes refocusing on the edge of the field from where he could see, around their carefully arranged cover of rubble and ruins. ]
We don't need to be further impaired.
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So he just smiled in the face of that coldly cutting look that was sent his way. It was fucking freezing on this planet and they hadn't exactly been kitted out with self-warming blankets or much in the way of winter gear. The wind that came tearing through the lines was as cutting as a razor and for someone like Gates who didn't have so much as an extra ounce of body fat, it was all the more punishingly.] Christ, Ortez, I'm not suggesting you get drunk. Just put a little warmth in your belly.
[Gates rolled his eyes heavenward in open disgust.] But hey, you want to freeze your balls off and suffer nobly, more for the rest of us, I guess.
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[ Sam stared stonily back at him before letting his eyes flick back to the field. Why he was even engaging in this discussion in the first place, he didn't know. Maybe the empty, vast nothing, the silence that had taken over, had finally started to get to him.
The only possible explanation for encouraging Issac's behavior. ]
Alcohol actually lowers body temperature. You just think it's making you warmer.
[ Well. It's the truth. That's not his fault. ]
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[He finally said glibly and sarcastically saluted Ortez before bringing the flask up to his mouth to take a sip from it. Where the contraband hooch had come from was uncertain but this had the burn of some kind of home-brew shit that trailed fire down his throat but as promised, it did put a warm pit in his belly which was all you could ask for on a night like this.] 'Sides, ain't like the damned Covies have any more of an interest in leaving their nice warm bunks than we do. We're just going to freeze our nuts off and when dawn comes, then they'll attack.
[Gates predicted confidently while tilting his head back to look out into the darkness beyond their position. There was no flare of plasma fire or the eerie gleam of Banshees running lights in the night. It was quiet for now but who knew if Isaac's prediction would prove to be accurate.]
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[ And if Gates is unconcerned with the risks at hand, then it's his head. He's a soldier like the rest of them, and when the time comes he'll fight. He'll follow orders, as the rest of them are expected to do. With their SO nowhere in sight, Ortez isn't going to be the one to reprimand him in his stead.
Not tonight.
Strangely quiet out there. Maybe it was the day of the year -- not that the Covenant recognized a human holiday, naturally -- but it almost seemed peaceful out there. A moment's respite in the blood and madness of the fight.
And even so, it did little to set him at ease. Every part of him still felt tense, waiting for something. For action, movement, order. Something. So Gates wasn't the only one feeling a little restless. ]
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[In truth? He doubted it. Samuel Ortez probably didn't know how to remove the stick up his ass long enough to unclench enough to do something as human as share a drink with his squad mates.]
'Sides, they could just decide to glass us from space and all of this would be a moot point. [Well, that was certainly a cheerful thought, now wasn't it? Gates was a big fan of gallows humor unfortunately and just threw that out there without a care in the world.] I've seen how they treat their own men. They let those fucking Hunters just chew through the slow ones like they're just more meat for the grinder. I doubt they'll care about a few Grunts of Jackals. Not to mention a bunch of filthy heretics like us, Ortez.
[In the darkness his teeth gleamed in a lupine smile that was all teeth and vicious humor.]
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The chances of which were extraordinarily high.
His eyes darted back towards Gates where he crouched, all teeth and sharp edges, like one of his blades. He'd die. They all would. And the weight of that threatened to swell up past the numb acceptance he'd nailed in place now and then. He might not like Gates, but--
Swallowing once, tightly, his eyes darted to the side. Then, quietly, he took his hand off his weapon to reach out for the canteen. ]
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There was a very good chance they would die here. Or maybe they'd live to see another day because they had defied how many other times?
Isaac sat there in the dark with his knife-sharp smile which kicked up a few degrees when he saw Sam's hand reaching for the canteen. Their fingers brushed as he exchange the canteen with Ortez and his bared fingertips were icy in the night air. Like many people in their squad, Isaac had opted to cut his tactical gloves back so there was no chance of the material getting tangled with the trigger guard of his weapon or interfere with his range of motion in combat. That meant of course that they were exposed to the elements in weather such as this but the trade-off was worth it in his mind.] Atta boy, come join us on the Darkside.
I am so sorry this is the most late D:
He'd gripped the bars and he'd survived.
And now he's apparently part of some army, but they've done a shit job at explaining what they want and he isn't about to start trusting them now. What he does know, is that the Counsellor is on board, and if nothing else, Wash can hold a grudge and now is the perfect time to clear that. So if he's nosing around, trying to find out where they've taken him... well, no-one's actually told him not to.
D: Equally late, sorry.
Locus had firmly overridden him on that and on his suggestion of taking Price out as well. Honestly, what the fuck was with his partner and his enamored obsession with these Project Freelancer rejects?!
So now he was totally not sulking as he took inventory of what the guards on the Tartarus laughingly called their armory when he heard the faintest sound of footfalls pacing nearby. Felix pulled his magnum and spun around to point it directly at Washington when the Freelancer cleared the doorway.
"Looks like we have an infestation on this ship. What are you doing down here, little rat?"
Re: D: Equally late, sorry.
Felix. That's this one's name, isn't it? The mouthy one who'd made them the offer.
He shrugs. "Hunting down Price."
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So Wash was totally within his rights to be wary around the merc. Felix's helmet tilted ever so slightly and looked a lot like a cat eying a particularly juicy mouse. "You're not planning on hunting him down and skinning him alive for all the terrible things he did to you and your friends back in Project Freelancer, are you? Cause, while I can appreciate the need for revenge, Locus seems to think we need him." Locus being the operative word. Not Felix so it would seem.
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"No, I was planning to sit down and have a calm rational discussion with him," he says dryly. "And they weren't my friends." Just people he'd worked with once upon a time.
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"Not your friends, huh? I'm pretty sure I hear the souls of Agent New York and North Dakota crying out a little from the afterlife being so callously downgraded. Usually, people try and remember the dead more fondly. And here the Counselor was telling us what fast friends you guys were." Felix was an absolute asshole. "I guess it's probably good they're dead so you don't have to break their heart with that little bit of truth, huh?"
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Of course the Counsellor told him that shit. It seems to be Aiden Price's purpose in life to fuck him over. But that's fine. Apart from the clenching of his jaw, there's not much outward sign of his feelings about that. At least partly because he's not sure what they are anymore. The outright rage has burnt lower over the past couple of years, turned into a spiteful little ball in the pit of his stomach that devours emotions and spits out ice. North and York are long dead.
He inclines his head, looking at Felix. "Did he tell you that they betrayed me? That I blew up their corpses without hesitation. That I shot North's sister in the head for turning on me? Friends are liabilities."
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Felix had been needling Wash, poking at his defenses and testing out weak spots with his words. And the other man had done a fairly decent job of masking his anger except for the traitorous bunching of jaw muscles when he clenched his jaw.
"That's not how he phrased it, no. But it is interesting you would immediately jump to betrayal and raining down retribution on people. You sure you're not planning on gutting Price? You don't really strike me as the live and let live type, Agent Washington." The merc deliberately used his former title just to dig at Wash a little bit more.
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Locus had overridden him on Price, just as he had with Washington. Because Felix didn't trust the Freelancer any farther than he could toss him with one pinkie. "When you decide to gut him like a fish, hit me up and maybe I'll even be a pal and let you borrow one of my knives." Jesus, was this dude serious or was it just some demented fucking act? "Locus will probably be pissed off but really, how many Feeelancers do we really need. And it seems to me, you have way more valuable intel about the Sim Troopers than Price does. Weren't you buddy-buddies with them? Well, buddy-buddies in that they too abandoned you and man you must have a super winning personality, don't you?"
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He definitely isn't planning to trust these men who came with their ultimatums. He just isn't planning to die any time soon either. It's a thought that jolts him a little. He remembers how ready he had been to die, how he'd wanted it when he faced the Meta and stood with Alpha. But now? No, he isn't planning to die.
Sim troopers. His lips press tight together for a moment. "They were a means to an end. And next time I see them, I'll probably kill them." Just another set of people who'd betrayed him, another set who he couldn't trust, who he'd never been important enough to. "That's rich coming from you."
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Locus would have told him to shut up by now but his keeper wasn't there to muzzle him so the merc let his mouth run unchecked.
"Uh there is no 'probably' in this equation, Agent Washington. Your job is to kill them and Carolina if it comes to that. The Simulation Troopers are becoming a pain in our ass and there will be no quarter offered. Is that going to be a problem for you?" The voice that filtered through the speakers of Felix's helmet was silky but as dangerous as the naked edge of a blade.
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God, his standards are rock bottom aren't they?
He tenses a little when Felix mentioned Carolina. He'd assumed that she was dead, at least until this had happened. But after that flicker of doubt, his stance hardens, jaw clenching. He hasn't seen her in years. She's dead to him already. She'd survived and had never even tried to find him. "Not a problem," he says. "I'll look forward to it."