goddamngrenades | Voicemail

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His injuries from the altercation at the tower had required observation, which meant a stay at the hospital for a day. He'd returned home late the night before, gone to bed without a word to anyone in the house besides Theta, and awoken to see the broadcast by Callsign Victor. Shortly after, he received a private text from her.

He hasn't had a chance to properly consider how to make up for everything that's happened with York. But he needs the man's advice now. An apology will be the best way to start this conversation, then things can proceed from there.

He goes down the stairs and finds York in the living room, as he'd sort of expected.

"Hey," he says calmly, sitting down in the armchair. "I think I owe you an apology," he says. "Some apologies," he amends after a beat.

Propped up and drugged up. Painkillers? Are awesome. Also do wonders for forgiveness. North settles in and York gives him a dopey smile and wave. "Mmm? Hey no it's okay. Virus thing had us all kinda jumpy and grumpy. We're good."

He breathes out a chuckle with an imperceptible shake of his head. "I think I need to do it anyway. For me."

"Sure, sure. G'head man. I mean. Bad as shit got? You never shot me." Yeah he's not really holding that against mal but it's kind of hard to not joke about it.

He'd not witnessed that, but he'd heard about it. "Doesn't change the fact that I was a jackass to you."

"Was kind of an ass right back. We're even." Not really but- he doesn't want to drag it out. Things were said while under the influence of an evil space brain virus. Can't hold it against anyone.

"I was worse." But whatever. "Sorry, that's all."

"You're forgiven, Drew. Really." He means it.

He nods, rather relieved to have that go so well.

And now for another piece of business. "I've got to ask you about something. You know that broadcast that went out a few minutes ago? From Callsign Victor?" He pulls out his glasses. "I got a private text from her right after it was sent. Orders me to show up to the rifle range, with a warning that I better not make her come after me."

"Yeah?" He blinks. That. That doesn't sound good. "...dude. um. She said she was Hob Ravani, right? D4 is full of action figures of her. After the wackjob with the motorcycle howling while she cut off Mal's leg I kinda looked 'em up. Ghost wolves? I think. Some kinda military elite thing. Big deal. I'd go."

"Yeah," he says. "I was leaning that direction. I'm just not real sure I'm going to like what comes out of this."

"D and Loki wiped the security feeds for floor 99 on down in that building, and the whole block around it besides. No one's got any footage of you but...we didn't have time t'clean up the blood. And Wrath kinda fell out of the building with Malcolm's leg. But Bifrons hasn't done anything yet..." Someone's playing a game here. He doesn't know who. Can't focus to see.

"One day there's going to be a mess you can't clean up," he says with a sigh. York's got plenty of resources here, but the actions North had perpetrated were pretty public. All it would have taken was for one person to recognize that the sniper was wearing purple armor and he would be easily identified.

"Then stop do'n shit without talk'n to me first, okay? Not like I've been scoping out security for that building for months. Not like I'm the security specialist that could've gotten you all in and to the top without tripping alarms or killing people. Nooooooo not like that at all." Okay maybe he's still a little pissed about that.

A teensy bit.

"Not your fault. That. Thing was pretty convincing. Really. Only reason I didn't do the same thing was D."

"You sure act like you think it was." Oh man, are they going to fight about this? Because he'd really just rather not fight about this. "I was convinced you were only looking out for your interests when I was under the influence of that thing. I wouldn't have listened to you."

"No. No it's not. It's that thing. That thing that got in us all like fuck'n Sigma and ruined everything." He scrubs at his eye, blinking over at North. Not his fault. Not anyone's fault. "Fuckn' Bifrons, man. Even if you talked to me? I'd have prolly told you to suck it."

"It seemed so reasonable at the time. Time to act, time to make them answer for what they've been doing."

"Nah I- had a few moments where I wanted to just blow the hub up. Seriously. Went to one of my guys until he talked me down."

It's at this point he texts Comm. Victor back to inform her of his lack of uniform and receives the reply that he needs to find one anyway.

"You know of any military surplus stores?"

"Ch, yeah. One about two blocks from my usual bar. Should be able to grab anything you need from there." He reaches over to nudge him. "Be careful, mkay? Old can be Wiley."

"I will." He rises. "I'll let you know what happens."

"Mkay. Be good." He pats at North's side. "Lemme know if you need anything else, awright?"

Edited 2014-10-16 20:19 (UTC)

"You'll be the first to know." With that he makes his way out the door.

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