goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

He watches him do that one sit up. He hasn't lost any of the tone has he? Of course he'd had more ample chance to notice that before. He still appreciates seeing it now.

"No," he replies, voice dry. "It comes with coffee and vegetables though. Why? I have trouble believing you'd fall for Stockholm Syndrome."

"Why else are you keeping me if not for Hargrove's collection?" Or to be killed later. One is as likely as the other. He curls up to grab the bar with his hand and unhook his feet, landing light and damn near silent. Practice. God knows he's got time. "What's on the menu, then?"

"We're all part of his collection. He showed me before this mission. The trophy room." It was fucking creepy as hell honestly. At least he gets to be active.

He holds out the tray towards York. "Good stuff. Stew. Bread. I'll even try it first if it makes you feel better."

"And it doesn't occur to you that it might be a little fucked up to have a collection of people? If you weren't being paid I'd call it slavery." Hell, he still might.

"Go ahead." It'll keep Delta calm to see Wash eat it first. "Any change on the 'get York some real clothes' front? It gets chilly."

"That's ridiculous," Wash says. "I'm hardly chained up somewhere being beaten." And he was getting pain a hell of a lot of money.

He goes over to sit down on the bed. cross-legged. the tray resting on his knees. Looks more like he should be in college than in a cell holding someone prisoner. He takes a good sized spoonful of the stew, swallows it. Does the same with the bread and the coffee. "Yeah, I've asked a few people. Should be able to get you some."

"No, just brainwashed and forced to do unsavory things out of gratitude. Or threats. Any employer that threatens you is not an employer." They're a master. And that's not something he wants a part of, ever.

Go ahead, Wash, make yourself at home. York tugs the chair from the desk out and perches their, arms slung over the back, chin resting on top. "Thank god. Who knows what might happen if I try to sleep naked."

"I'm not brainwashed, York," he says, rolling his eyes. It sounds ridiculous. So overdramatic. Brainwashing was... was drugs and isolation and torture. Flickering lights and... sleep deprivation.

He holds the tray out towards him again. Surely that's proof it isn't drugged. "Then you'd... sleep naked? Nothing's going to happen."

"You're. Glassing. A. Planet. You're actively trying to get Kimball and the kids killed." Please let the messages he'd left with them have mattered. Let them have come together in some sort of understanding. Please. "I dunno. One of my wardens seems to have a thing for me."

He goes still at that, a shudder running through him. No, that- that wasn't what they were doing. "So maybe I'm just a monster."

He glances up at York, surprised by that, but then shrugs dismissively. "I'll make sure that he has guard duty all night."

"Palomo really looked up to you, man. They all did." And he's trying to help them die. God. He should've put it all together sooner. "I think you're confused. I think you both are. When you're in a hole the first hand out is the one you cling to hardest."

God knows he understands that.

He takes a slow sip of the coffee and sighs. Real food. He's already been spoiled. "Please do. One more comment about 'tapp'n that freelancer ass' and I might do something drastic. It's like he thinks I can't hear him."

"No he didn't," Wash replies, voice hardening. "None of them did. I was just a merc to them. A means to an end. I never got close to them on purpose." Didn't want to get attached. Didn't want to feel anything. He sighs, stares down at the bedcover. "And what would you do if I agreed? Said that, I dunno, they have a padded room waiting for me if I fuck up?" There's no way out of this.

His eyes narrow. "If he tries anything, I'll kill him. Or you can. Either way."

"Then you're proving my point about this being really fucked up and you not really doing this because you want to, but because you have to. Victim of Circumstance, just like I said." It's not a point he likes making, but it's true. It makes him wonder what Hargrove has on Carolina. There hadn't been enough time to dig through the data to sort that out.

"Feeling territorial? Or is this a fragment of morality I'm hearing?"

He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, scratching at the scarred skin around the port. Itches. It itches. "Even if that was true, doesn't matter. There's nothing left from before so... I don't know why you keep trying." He should have given up. Stupid York and his stupid honour.

"It's... a breakdown in discipline. I know I've got no claim on you."

"Then don't think about before. Think about what's next. You know- beach house, surfing, pet kitten." THe odds of that were always slim. Now? Even slimmer. But it'd been a nice thought. Another few bites of the stew and he raises his brows, scooping up a spoonfull of the stew and pulling the spoon out of his mouth slow and thoughtful. Faintly dirty.

"So if I was to welcome his advances. If I wanted to invite him or anyone else in. Let them pin me and bite me and come in me. You'd be fine with that?"

"That's never going to happen," he says bluntly. And it hurts to admit. "It was a pretty idea. People like me don't get those things. There's nothing next, I do my job. Eventually I'm probably gonna get killed." Better than doing the job himself.

He presses his lips hard together. "No. Because you're not allowed contact with them. If they agree to that, then they've disobeyed orders."

"If the alternative to your current employment situation is death, it's probably time to look at a different job. Seriously." Just shit to chew on, there. While he chews on his bread and peers at Wash. On his bed. And either trying not to be jealous or trying not to be provoked.

Either way it's kind of cute and a lot funny. Like always he can't help keep poking at it.

"And that's the only thing that bothers you about it."

"And what would you suggest?" is the sour response. There isn't an alternative. He knows there isn't. He's not like York. He can't invest in hopeless causes.

He gives a sharp nod. "Of course. You've got no reason to care what I feel about it anyway. You hate me."

"Find alternative employment. Go into self employment. Retire. Stop this shit before it gets worse." He shrugs and finishes his meal, setting the tray aside in favor of lounging with his mug of coffee.

"I hate what you're doing. I hate that you're stuck in this position. I hate that Carolina's gone off the reservation. I hate hargrove for doing this to you. But the more I see? The more I'm sure neither of you really got a choice."

"You make it sound like that's easy." Like there was anything else that he could do besides killing. Mercenary work was all that he was good for.

"Don't talk about her like that," Wash says, shifting uncomfortably. She was all that he had left. The only person he could trust. "I can't believe you. The fuck does it take to make you less understanding? To make you stop pretending that you care?"

"Her own father tried to make her into a weapon. Hargrove's doing the same damn thing. Holding your rescue of a person over their head will do things to them. It's not her fault." Even if he's still pissed. Especially if he's so goddamn pissed- but she'd given Wash the OK to give him Delta.

That gives her a little leeway.

"Erase Delta. Kill me. Go through with Killing Kimball and the kids. If you really want to burn this bridge you got options. I just don't think you do. If you did? I'd be dead. Or you'd let Sanderson in to have his sweaty way with me."

"It's hardly unfair to expect certain things of people when you've invested in them." Spent time and resources and money on keeping them alive, fixing them up so they're just about functional.Of course he owes Hargrove.

There's a flash of vicious anger and a look towards the door when York mentions the name. Someone to be dealt with later. "We're still going ahead with the plan. It's just... been set back a little." Because of him. Because of York. He can't deny that he's a little relieved. "And I can't erase Delta or kill you. Boss wants you both alive." Perfectly valid excuses.

"You're a person. NOT a product." He mutters. "Both of you. The Project treated us like that and you're getting it all over again. Neither of you deserve it. Let alone for this long."

HE should've kept looking. That's all he can take away from this. That and Wash IS, in fact, jealous. And territorial. Time to keep poking.

"Boss wants to make me comply. He'll hold Delta over me to make it happen. Probably gonna get my suit refitted with an EMP collar or some shit. 'Do as you're told or your green friend gets it'." A beat. "You're really gonna give them shit for looking at me, aren't you?"

"We're weapons," Wash says, his voice thick with frustration and anger and the hurt that's usually buried as far as he can make it. "We're not people. We're weapons and weapons don't... Don't get to make those decisions." And he was terrible at making them anyway. "Had enough freedom to know I can't do it. He let me walk away, York. I tried. And I can't do it. Got picked back up cause I couldn't." Wasn't that evidence enough? He could have walked away but he didn't.

"At least you wouldn't be alone anymore," he says and then, without thinking, "Yes. I'm gonna break their fucking faces."

"Never said you'd have to do it alone. Trying to do it alone just- helps you fall back into old patterns. I had D. It made it easier to not." To unwind. To fix the patterns that put him in that spiral. It's work but it's work worth doing. "Nothing saying you both can't walk away now. Try something different."

Well that. That's- almost sweet.

"I'm down here in a skin tight suit. And again, I'm the pretty one. NOt all that surprised they want a piece." Doesn't keep him from moving over to the bed and sitting down, pressing against Wash from hip to thigh.

"You're crazy. We can't just... just leave. Can't just stop." The boss would be unhappy and that didn't usually lead to anything good. Wash was already in trouble, even if he'd come back. "Not all of us have a best friend who can help rewrite our brains and understands everything."

He tenses up when York comes to sit by him, stiff and unhappy. "Everyone's wearing a fucking skin tight suit. They don't get to do that."

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)