RP Open Post

[goddamngrenades]

Smut, Gen, Angst, Fluff, Anything, Everything.
PFL era, Post war, Pre Canon, AU, whichever
Brackets or Prose whatever you're comfortable with
Tag and go, baby!

Comments

[goddamngrenades]

"Is there an English equivalent that I"m not aware of?"

[tactical_alert]

"I'm not fistbumping you, Mr. Murray. Eat your burger."

[goddamngrenades]

"Killjoy." He snorts, going back to his absolutely obscene love affair with a real cheeseburger. Oddly enough he makes the same noises with the salad.

[tactical_alert]

"If that's how you are around our food, you are going to very much enjoy your stay."

[goddamngrenades]

"It's REAL FOOD of course I'm happy. I bet you even have real coffee." Oh, real coffee, how he has missed thee.

[tactical_alert]

"Caffeine," he says with a light smirk. "To fuel our staff and allow them to power through the day."

[goddamngrenades]

"God bless this dome." He salutes Mal with the last of his burger and finishes up his meal, sitting back with a contented sigh. Delta will be along to collect him in a bit but this- this was good. Nice. Natural.

[tactical_alert]

"I can escort you to our resident psychiatrist's office and leave you to it? And I'll give you a tentative schedule of when I'd like to train. Evenings are fine, yes?" He can try to reshape this ranger into someone respectable again. Or he'll damn well try. His hopes aren't high that he'll get into a jaeger again, but they will try.

And the training begins. Away from prying eyes, as promised. Each day is a focus on a new style, a broad range, flexing York's comforts and adaptability. Sometimes with weapons--fencing had certainly been interesting--and usually without. Bruises. Also as promised. Sometimes patronizing, but he always tries to be respectful.

"I think we shall focus on your strengths in upcoming sessions," Malcolm declares at the end of one. "Hone in on what you're good at, make you better, see how you're doing about that blind spot when in your element."

[goddamngrenades]

It's hard work. It's work which he expected but he didn't think he'd end up going back to his bunk so worked over that he'd actually sleep. That was a change. That was just one of many good changes. The food makes him want to eat more, so he does. He's active more so he's building up what muscle he's lost while all twisted up by the thing that he lost. Malcolm's actually fun to talk to and the other pilots don't pity him here, don't know him from anything so he talks more.

All and all he's feeling more himself than he had in awhile. Especially when the last one has him on his back on the mats, panting and grinning up at Malcolm. Two points this time, and that? That's an improvement. "Honestly? I'm more worried about how disorienting it'll be for whoever I drift with."

[tactical_alert]

'Fun' and 'Malcolm' never seen to go hand in hand unless getting your ass kicked is fun. (And hey, to each their own.) He helps York (apparently the name he prefers, rather than Taylor, or Mr. Murray) up off the mat. "What, the blind spot?" A shrug. "They'll be your left for you, should you find someone to drift with again."

[goddamngrenades]

Taylor's too intimate, Mr. Murray too clinical- York is a good medium. They were a little weird over at his dome, sure, the project being what it was but it worked for them. He's not sad to leave it behind, though. "How long till you think I can sign on for compatibility testing?"

He thinks he's got a handle on things but Malcolm is nothing if not brutally honest.

[tactical_alert]

"You can sign up whenever you feel ready." And that is the truth. "Whether they'll allow you to is another matter." Other shoe dropped. "What does the doctor think?"

[goddamngrenades]

"Really?" And he shouldn't want that so bad. To get back in the suit, to fight again. Part of it is- being able to feel her in the drift again. Feel both of them. The other part is just to get back to the frontline.

Or die like he was supposed to.

"...That I need more tests to establish whether or not I'm hallucinating or ghost drifting. Still."

[tactical_alert]

"I should think ghost drifting is the most likely scenario, but if more tests need done, then more tests need done."

[goddamngrenades]

"Nine months afterward?" It's- unheard of, usually. But they'd been- almost been- why hadn't he just-

He sucks in a breath and pulls himself up, scrubbing at the back of his neck. "I'll go through the runaround again. I just want a partner, you know? Probably won't have a jeager for us for awhile."

[tactical_alert]

"Do you really think it wise to be eager for a new partner? It's not unheard of, of course, just...unusual." Why put himself in that position all over again? If there even is anyone else out there for him.

[goddamngrenades]

"Have you ever been in the drift before?" It's like coming home. It was like the best parts of love and sex and driving a hundred miles an hour in a convertible- it was being- it was being. There's a reason that recreational attempts at it have popped up and been squashed hard by the military. "I wanna feel whole again. Right now there's just- this empty spot in my head where someone else is supposed to be."

[tactical_alert]

"But you think you can find someone. Here." Malcolm doesn't buy it, not really. But who is he to argue? He's never managed to fully drift with anyone before. "Again, that's not up to me or even you. Those in charge, they'll decide if you get to try or not."

[goddamngrenades]

"I don't know. I didn't expect to be compatible with Clair when I met her. Hell we didn't even do the usual test. We found out when we were dancing." Club Errera. Something he hasn't done since he lost them, something he's still not sure he can do. But it'd be- it'd be nice to try again. Maybe. New city, new music, new club. "Yeah. A month ago I wouldn't be anywhere near ready. So- thanks Mal. Really."

[tactical_alert]

"All I've done is attempt to help you get your fighting skills back up to speed and adjust to fighting with your blind spot." A dismissive wave of his hand as he downs half a water bottle with the other. "Any other trainer worth their salt should have done the same. You still won't get three on me, though."

[goddamngrenades]

"It's not about winning, Mal." He snorts, scrubbing his face with a towel. "It's about compatibility."

[tactical_alert]

"Fighting is about winning. Drifting is about compatibility." Apples, oranges, despite using sparring as a method to test the latter.

[goddamngrenades]

"You ever do anything but this?" The fact that he's thinking it- that's a bad sign. It's how it started with Clair and- no, nope, not doing it but the questions' out there now. "Like. Outside the dome."

[tactical_alert]

"Sure." There's more to this life of constant watch and war than just sitting around inside a dome of metal and ignoring the rest of the world. He's just one piece in a much greater machine, and it'll still function perfectly without him, even (especially?) when there's kaiju contact.

It's a depressing thought, that he could be so easily replaced.

[goddamngrenades]

"What's there to do? I've never really walked around the city." Hasn't ever really wanted to.