goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"They were injecting shit into his neural implant." He growls, hand catching on Wash's waist. "He was screaming. Like Epsilon. You really think I'm gonna sit down and let that happen? Damn right I broke the glass."

"Strong dose of a particular kind of sedative," Carolina said quietly. "Makes a person suggestible. Coupled with messages sent as bioelectrical signals. It's... unpleasant." She grimaced, looked away quickly. "His room's down here."

"...seriously. Brain. Washing." At first it was just 'get himself out of here and make sure they didn't die.' Now it's 'get them the fuck out and burn this sucker to the ground'.

Delta's running the numbers. The odds are...decent. IF a lot of variables get locked down.

Of course wheat York considers decent and what Delta do are very different things.

[ He can't speak for Carolina (well, he could, but even Epsilon isn't about to risk it), but York looks well. Better than he had the night before, and all cleaned up like that? Definitely looks more like the someone his partner used to rely on back in the day.

Nothing else happened, of course, but if Epsilon were a betting AI, he's pretty sure he needs to schedule an extra day here.. ]

"Yeah, she did. Normally, she wouldn't get it."

[ And here come the question he was half expecting last night. He flickers a moment, before coming to hover at the end of the whisk; the suit's projectors have pretty decent range in the kitchen. ]

"That would be me. And before you ask, no, I'm not crazy. [just a taaaad defensive] "any more. Been a long time since that happened, wasn't exactly my fault either. As it is, I don't hang out in her head, since you probably haven't noticed."

"It's not bra-" Wash began and then snarled, banging his head lightly against Carolina's shoulder. "Fuck fuck I hate this I hate Ch-" He broke off with a whimper, and ground his teeth together.

"Can't call it that," Carolina said, giving York a significant look.

"What else am I supposed to call it, a disciplinary review?" Ignoring what it is doesn't help. SENDING Wash to this shit doesn't help. Get him armor, get him a gun, and give him half an hour and this whole fucking thing is done.

He might be done WITH it but- that'd be worth it. Maybe.

"We're almost at your room, bud, come on. S'gonna be okay."

Wouldn't LET herself get it. Some things never change.

[ It helped to have a partner that could talk her out of it or at least physically drag her away. York gets the feeling Epsilon does what he can but- he's only one dude. It's hard when someone's pretty stubborn. ]

Wasn't gonna say. If you were? She wouldn't be working with you. And you're damn right it wasn't your fault. None of it was any of your fault. [ An old man, his grief, and his poisonous ambition. ]

So you're the last one, huh? [ The others got wiped out. He'd heard that much. ] ...How is Wash doing?

"If you say so," what a wrapper had to do with anything was beyond her guess. "Though you might want to get that order done now, if the delivery will take a while."

They could always leave it on the doorstep, of course, but that seems rather undignified.

"If you want some, you'll have to get up."

Delta, not Carolina there. She's still napping, and he is finalizing the necessary paperwork to have her taken on a longer basis. It will need his signature and York's, followed by hers. But he needs his friend awake to read the clauses before agreeing to anything.

"Right, I'll call it in." He tucks the candy into his cheek and dials the number by memory- sure he could keep it in his cell phone but the tests for retention kinda stuck even this long after the incident. Besides.

It made him feel better to know it.

One spicy order of beef pad kee mao, bottle of plum wine and candied mango ordered up. In the meantime he tries (and fails) to focus on research for the next video.

There are no words. Only a low, faint whine that is absolutely undignified. Okay maybe there are a few words. "Delta please?"

They reach the room, a grey door in a hallway full of identical doors. Carolina unlocks it quickly and urges them inside. His room at the rebel base had been spartan. The room here didn't have much more personality than that. It was mostly the same layout as York's, a bed and a desk, none of the personal touches that his locker and quarters on the MOI had had. It was an empty shell of a room except for his armour.

"Sit him down," Carolina said. She slid out from Wash's side and headed to the bathroom to grab a glass of water for him.

Down Wash gets sat. Suddenly everything that felt off had a reason, every detail and he hates it. Hates that Wash has been living with this for how long? Hates that he never knew. That he stopped looking for both of them.

Nothing to do but try to fix it now but- it might be too little too late. Still. He settles up along Wash's side, hands smoothing down his back and across his shoulders, keeping far from the neural implant. "We got you, babe. It's okay."

Sitting up might be a bit optimistic. Wash ends up curling against York's side, face buried against his shoulder. "Can't call it that," he says quietly, eyes closed. "It's hard to say bad stuff about them." Harder now, even if the cycle hadn't been completed. Always took a while for his brain to settle down. "I'll be fine. Just... need to do better."

"Yeah, that too. She has her reasons though."

[ He seems to relax a bit as he watches York whip the batter into shape, prepping it for waffle creation. Stubborn was most definitely a family trait. ]

"..Yeah, well, she's changed too. And that's a good thing. Moving on's a bitch, but here we are.

Something like that, can thank an EMP for that. And Caboose. Reds and Blues got my storage unit out of range of the Meta. Wash is doing great! You know. Looking after our box canyon idiots. He..and I don't really talk much, I leave that to Carolina."

Leave what to me?

[ Asks the barefoot woman stepping into the kitchen, toweling off her hair. She's not wearing a grifball shirt - the long sleeves of the plaid flannel shirt have been rolled up to her elbows, and while it fits her frame otherwise, the body is long enough to reach to past mid-thigh. Which is good, because she wasn't going to wear his undergarments and the spare drawstring pants she could find? Were a tent on her.

It's not remotely revealing, and oddly comfortable, and yet Epsilon is DEFINITELY grinning. For someone who has a helmet and visor for a face. ]

"Conversation. Like this one. Morning C, later C."

[ And off he logs, leaving the two humans to each other. ]

Edited 2015-09-14 20:12 (UTC)

"You are good with numbers," she notes absently, moving past heritage revelations and on to a chapter about shopping, while York handles dinner for her. "That is good. A strong memory will allow you to recall spells later, when needed."

Not that he's worried about that when he's more worried about date possibilities. His fidgeting and lack of concentration does draw a sigh from her eventually, however. "So. Have you decided where to take her yet?"

"If you get up, there will be coffee here for you." As close to a compromise as the other man will make, anyway.

"...mmmokay." He rolls off the sofa. Literally rolls till he can land on his feet and wander over, eyes still mostly closed and covered by the washcloth. Unerringly led to Delta by some sixth sense York leans against him, nuzzling into his hair. "Mmmphle."

"A concussive blast to the skull leaves a guy with the potential for memory problems. So they made a point for me to pick up habits that' make getting those difficult." Constant repetition of some patterns but- it's been awhile since he had to lean on them for anything big. He's good.

He's actually doing GOOD. Better than he has in awhile. It's a nice change.

"Well she's really into eating vegetarian so I thought the nice Punjabi place a few blocks away would be good. Have a little curry, come home for dessert..." Oh man he's gonna get laid. It's gonna be AWESOME.

[ Epsilon's got some kind of ulterior motive- but honestly? It's working out in their favor. So York lets the hasty retreat slide in favor of...admiring Carolina. SHe looks good. She looks rested, clean and for half a second he can pretend there's no civil war. That there wasn't a long stretch of time he thought she was dead and she thought him dead- that they'd run off together like he'd always wanted.

Flew through space for a new life. Maybe a couple of kids with green eyes.

God he's still got it bad if he's thinking like that. ]

Waffles are on.

[ The iron's sizzling away while he sets the batter aside, grabbing butter and syrup from the fridge. ]

And coffee's in the pot. You look good, Clair.

"Okay. Won't call it that." God, how deep did this conditioning go? York distracts himself by combing his fingers through Wash's hair, lips pressed against his temple. He'll fix it.

He'll find a way to fix it. "We'll figure something out."

"Sorry," he says, taking a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry. Shouldn't have dragged you into this. If I'd been stronger..." If he'd kept to the mission, if he'd been better in the project, if he'd never agreed to this...

Carolina returned, water and a medical kit in her hands. "Wash, let me see your neck."

He pulled away reluctantly and turned to let her see it. It looked a mess, blood dried around the ports.

Coward. [muttered softly at the retreating digital back, before she offers York a smile] So I can see. And here I thought you were teasing me about them.

[Her hair is given one last toweling before she folds said towel up, draping over the back of one of the chairs. Her lips quirk at the corner to see he's paying a little more attention to her than strictly necessary, which is. Well. It's very flattering, actually. That he'd still look at her like that, like he tried to on the sly back during their Project days.

Makes a girl wonder. Makes a girl hope. Just a little.

Feet pad quietly along the floor until she's over by the coffee pot, sidelong glances watching him handle the waffles. ]

Older and greyer, perhaps. [beautiful, he'd said this morning. Does he remember that?] ..Not looking so bad yourself, though.

[Slightly rumpled always did suit him.]

Green eye over on the couch, along with its redhaired owner, cracks open a smidge at the garbled sounds. Delta, for his part, looks like a very put upon hound, who nonetheless is still doing his work even as York glomps against him.

Cute. And York must have made one heck of an impression on Delta for him to allow such nonsense for so long. Were they..? ...No. No, Delta was too professional for that.

Still if both were up, so too should the bodyguard be, and she sits up slowly, stretching one arm then the other, before carefully popping her neck.

"They train -- trained -- young mages in such things to ensure they could recall perfectly that which the began incantations for you." Almost a pity he hadn't done the same when summoning her. Then again, he might have sent her back if he had.

This far, things were working out better than for worse.

There's a snicker at the mention of dinner plans in full. At least this is something he can focus on, since his work is slacking. "Should I bind your room for silence? Or do you care who hears you enjoying dessert?"

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