Agent York | Taylor Murray (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
goddamngrenades) wrote2013-12-02 03:34 am
goddamngrenades) wrote2013-12-02 03:34 am
Voicemail
You have reached the voice mail system of FOXTROT 12.
When you are finished recording, just hang up or press pound for more options.
To request a locksmith, press one.
To hear these options in Spanish, press dos.
To send a verbal confirmation of a written command, press three.
To send a written confirmation of a verbal command, press four.
For delivery options, press five.
To page this person, press six.
To locate your nearest operator, press seven.
To leave a call back number, press eight.
To repeat this message, press nine.
Press zero for other options.
To mark this message as urgent, press eleven.
Thank you for calling, have a nice day.
BEEP
action!
Within the promised half hour he promised he's got the goods strapped to his person as he wanders through the street, looking for familiar red hair. He's still not used to actually finding it- still has to take half a moment to breathe before sidling up alongside, attempting to sneak up on her. LIke usual.]
So. Got you presents.
action awaaaaaay
While her expression remains serious, there's no way to deny that her eyes light up to see him when she turned her head at his approach. ]
I'm sure you say that to all the girls, York. [beat] What did you find?
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[He beams, proud of himself. It hadn't even taken the favor! He'd just found a new supplier and that made dealing with everything a lot less expensive and a lot more streamlined for his own businesses. He makes a mental note to buy the guy a drink sometime.
Presents abound, and he starts unstrapping the requested weaponry from under his bulky coat and offering it over.]
Even got you some plasma pistols- heat sinking, low recoil, fast, light, and quiet.
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Just offside as they are, there's no one to notice the exchange of weaponry, Carolina quick to examine each item as they're unwrapped and presented to her, before equipping them, slinging them over her shoulder or slipping them into a boot or attaching a holster to her belt. There's a low, impressed whistle when he shows off the pistols, however, and green eyes look up sharply to meet his as she tests their weight, fingers carefully mapping the shape and size. ]
Are you sure-- [they've had this conversation, so she stops. Looks uncomfortable. Before offering a quieter:] Thank you. For these.
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[It's not the best endorsement for where they stand. There's still all this residual tension he really needs to get out of his system before they do anything more than talk in broad daylight. Maybe a few rounds in the training hall later will clear his head. Not that it ever worked before.]
Just come back in one piece, and make sure Mal and Darcy do too.
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Carolina believes, in her heart of hearts that it isn't something she deserves, not after everything and what she had done. Not after what they've been through.
But it's something Carolina wants, because she's missed this, missed him and their friendship and its ill defined borders. Each interaction has skirted around that old, familiar thrum of tension - still there after all this time, even after both had done their best to bury it, something they've both been experiencing since their first talk.
..She never was any good at letting go. ]
We're not. [gentle correction is followed by a very small, rather crooked smile] Yet. But, we will be.
Don't worry, I'll look out for both of them. As well as keep an eye on those Callsigns. [and that Kilo individual.]
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Why wade through all that? Why talk and mope and torture each other with what happened? It's done. It's over. He forgives her- she'd done what she'd always done. What she thought was right while following orders. It's a decade that he hasn't known her and that's so damn long he's not sure how they still have this strange familiarity. Apparently she remembers all their unspoken cues just like he does, though for him it's only ever been a handful of years.
We're not. But we will be. Yet. He hates Yet. He hates Later- because there is no fucking later. Not for him. Not anymore. There's this dome and the life he's able to build here and he doesn't want to water it down with all that goddamn baggage.]
Can't we just- skip all that soul searching stuff and get right to the 'i love you man' drinking? [Light. Glib. So goddamn glib it's almost forced except for the part where it really is and she'll catch it because she always fucking catches it. It's not fair that he's the one walking blind here. He's always the one walking blind.] I mean. It's kind of exhausting and you don't get much sleep anyway.
stupid kids sob
Except she had, hadn't she?
So many things had gone wrong before, because no one talked back then, artificial rivalries and obedience to the rules, to the rank and structure they'd had no reason to doubt having been used against them. No one had been honest. And now, when she's trying, trying so gard to make up for that, it doesn't seem to matter - all Carolina proves to herself is that time and again all she ever seems to do is hurt those close to her. It's really not surprising he doesn't want to think about it, to talk about it. It's been so long now, after all. He has a new life here, and imperfect as it might be within the Sanctum, he deserves this second chance.
He's moved on. You can't make things right again, Carolina. ]
I didn't--[catches herself, hears the catch in his own words. ..Doesn't call him on it, but she hears it. (I'm sorry, York.)] ..All right.
I'll see you when we get back. [She's pulling back, pulling away, figuratively and literally - she does, after all, have a transport to catch.] Save that sixpack for us.
T^T so dumb ugh
[Rolled off like blood on oiled leather and painted over a smile that's sharper than their knives. It's just how she is. How she was. He's not sure how she is NOW and that's- disconcerting. He used to know all the paths, all the patterns, every last tumbler to the locks that hold the tension in place and how to pick right through by feel. All of that's jammed up or dusted over or the ground just isn't fucking there anymore. He's trying to recover, she's trying to change, they're on different books in entirely different libraries.
And he's not helping.
Shit. Damn his mouth.]
Look. You don't owe me anything. Let alone an explanation. It was hell for me alone and even then, I had D. I can't imagine what you went through. I'm not going to because when I tried? Gave myself night terrors. But you made it out. You. The best of us- not because of any damn leaderboard or any special treatment or blood but because you got steel where everyone else has bronze. You've always been the best of us and it has nothing to do with equipment and everything to do with just- you. Last man standing.
[He hesitates for half a second but- in for a penny, in for a pound. He reaches up, tugs off his dogtags and loops them around her neck before she can tell him to not.]
So you gotta keep being number one. Best of the best. Because they're gonna be scared shitless out there but for you? This is wednesday. This is nothing. Bring those- and bring yourself back? I'll take you to all the best bars and we'll celebrate you making it out like we should have when you got here in the first place. Fair?
Re: T^T so dumb ugh
That hurts. It hurts worse because it was, is, true. And Carolina isn't certain that can be changed.
She watches him pull free the dogtags as he's talking, but her attention is fixed more on what he's saying than his actions. He has no idea how close he is, with that comment about 'last man standing' - when truly, Wash better deserves such a title. Carolina cannot go back to how she used to be, not and learn to live again, and perhaps that means there's too much space between them, too much distance to be overcome, yet his faith in her surprises, even now, that much is clear from her eyes. ]
You're wrong, Taylor. If I--No, I know that I owe that to you. If no one else, you. [She almost never uses his name, not publicly, not like this. she does so now, because its important, and it's not fair, it's never been fair, she's never been fair to him and he has always, always deserved so much better than her.] ..I trust you.
[ York, it would seem, isn't the only one capable of mixed messages.
But she means it. Wishes she had said it so long ago, though truthfully that fact had never been in doubt. He'd been right not to trust her, Connie had been right not to, even if she'd learned that fact too late and the knowledge didn't make it hurt any less.
And then he manages to get the dogtags around Carolina's neck, startling her, a laspe in judgement or awareness, she's not sure. Her right hand snaps out, seizes his left wrist before he can completely pull away, grip just shy of holding too tight. She hasn't been comfortable with anyone, friend or foe, having their hands near her neck in a very long time - but she knows York wouldn't move to hurt her. Not like that.
Not when they're good at hurting each other with words aloneAfter a moment, she relaxes her grip, transferring the hold to his hand, fingers briefly curling around and against his palm. She doesn't press it against her cheek, much as she might want to. Instead, she holds his gaze, thinking, eyes dark, before letting go. They were friends once, still sort of. And if they're to learn how to be friends again, then-- ]
Fair. [softly] I'd like that.
You don't need to worry about them. I'll take care of things.
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SO he doesn't say anything. Just. Hangs onto her hand as long as he can, as long as she'd let him before letting it drop back down to his side. Theyv'e seen each other at their best and their worst- sometimes simultaneously. And they've changed.
Dying does things to a man.
Surviving does things to a woman.
He just hopes they haven't changed so much that they don't fit anymore. He's missed the quiet certainty of her company.]
I know you will. Couldn't ask for a better leader.
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She may have been the better soldier, the better fighter, but she would have been the first to say he was the better person. And she has every reason to think that's still true now.
She's not so sure about her leadership skills nowadays - but Carolina quietly, privately, vows not to let him down. ]
We'll be home, safe, soon. You'll be the first I call.
[ ...so don't spend the entire time they're gone drinking, okay. ]
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[He'll sort it out, one way or the other. They never have enough time- but honestly? It's probably for the better.
At least until they're both settled.]
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[The prospect of York handling the cooking? ..Well, she's been gone a long time but she hadn't forgotten that! At least Carolina has always managed to make basic but edible meals.]
I'm not even sure there is here. So long as there's no mushrooms and comes in extra spicy..? [slight shrug as she continued to step away, pausing only to toss him a second smile, and a hint of a salute with one hand] I'll leave the rest to you.
[ Too much or too little, never 'just enough'.
And there's only so long they can spend time avoiding things once they're settled, right? ...right? ]
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He hates not being sure.
He's getting used to being stuck in situations he hates. There's not much else he can do but wait for them to get home. And get a welcome back party ready. It's just a simple rescue op. Shouldn't take a few days.
Right?
Right.]
Take care, Carolina.