driftfleet | Red Fish Pond

[he nods. he'll do it. and after the exhausting week he's had, it's nice to know he doesn't have to be the one to make it happen, just this once.]

Thanks.

[it's quiet, but he means it. he pushes his arm forward on the table a little, to make it easier to hold onto.]

[It's good that she's had her cry, because otherwise that tiny offer from him would have made her tear up again. She loops her hold a bit more around his arm, and smiles a not at all watery smile.]

Glad you're back, Zhas.

[he's not glad to be back in the Fleet in a general sense--this still isn't where he belongs, and there are dire matters that need attending to at home. but all the same, he'd much rather be here than anywhere else in this "program" they're running... so he's kind of glad that he's back too.

after a moment of reflection, he brings up something that'd been glossed over a minute ago:]

You took care of Coil.

[he draws a question mark with his finger--since he knows she understands that, now.]

[It's okay, they can go back to this.]

I was there for him the day you disappeared. I make sure he eats, and we spar, so he has someone who he can beat the tar out of. I give as good as I get, don't worry. I wouldn't patronize him like that. Patch him up after, and we've gotten into arguments about healing up things like split lips.

[She rolls her eyes thinking about it. Coil is such a pain in the ass sometimes.]

Ridiculous, right?

[She pauses in her recounting here, because now she's back to more serious things.]

He had a really bad day recently. I generally give him his space...mostly, but this was a bad bad day for him. It's selfish, I know, but it's good that your back. I missed you, but he really needs you.

[okay, he's listening to all of this... and his gaze has been getting narrower and narrower the more she's been talking... to the point that he's practically squinting at her in skull-facey skepticism.]

...Willingly.

[...as in, you've been doing this with Coil willingly. and Coil's been sparring with her... instead of trying to throw her out an airlock. like, on purpose.

...he glances around the kitchen again. this is the right ship, right?]

Yes, willingly. Quit making that face.

[ :| ]

[he does not quit making that face. in fact, he slowly twists forward with his other arm to... set his hand down on top of her head.

and just kind of. keep it there. skeptically.]

That bad, huh.

[Is it really that bad? Does she seems so upset/drunk that the idea of her and Coil coexisting without thoughts of murder is a signal of everything having truly imploded?]

For him, yes, I think so. Is it really so strange that we're getting along?

Yes.

[WITHOUT A SHRED OF HESITATION.

though he finally removes his hand, and stops giving her quite as much of a look.]

What about the others.

Well, it's the Red Fish, so we get all the fun people. There's Cas. He's asleep and it's worrying, but he's charming, and funny, and taught me sandwiches. Arthur like ties and art, and he's sweet. Sam and Dean are brothers, but they're from different versions of their world, so it's confusing for them. Sam is a reader, very positive. Dean is gruff and reticent, and you'd like him. Asuka likes to do her own thing, but she's nice, I think. There's another one, Laura, and she's reclusive and quiet.

[This may or may not be what Zhas meant, when he asked about the others, but it's what he's getting.]

[no, that's. kind of exactly what he was hoping for. considering he can already match a face to each of those descriptions, she's on the mark...]

Sandwiches are good. [in the same way that coffee is good. she's making progress!] Not much trouble, then.

I like them.

[And the memory of going out with Cas that time is pleasant, so that's nice to think about.]

Aside from both Sam and Cas having fallen asleep almost back to back, and after Sam woke up he was really disoriented, bled himself over half the ship doing some kind of banishment, which I and Nami -she's a friend- stopped, no it's been fairly quiet.

[a part of him really wants to protest, but... no, for this ship? that's pretty normal. one socket-painted eyebrow is slightly raised.]

Magic...?

Pretty sure. Looked like some kind of sigil. I ruined it before he could finish.

Zhas...you're talking an awful lot.

[Which if she was sober, would be really flattering and meaningful. Because she knows he doesn't like talking. While drunk, it just seems really odd.]

[he makes a disgusted sound in the back of his throat--he knows, and slumps down even lower in his chair. he brings up his not-held-onto arm to point at her and then finger-spell.]

Practicing?

[She lets go of his arm, because you need both sometimes for the signs.]

Yes. A lot.

Edited (making it clearer what she's doing) 2016-06-05 04:31 (UTC)

[...was that a smile? no, no. probably just a coincidentally timed facial tick. he is certainly not pleased that she's been practicing, or that she'd bothered keeping up with it after he'd left. no sir.

but now he's free to sign back.] Good. Maybe I will stop g-o-i-n-g e-a-s-y on you.

[the bit in there is spelled out, since that's much easier than trying to figure out how to sign the specific phrase.]

[It's okay. She can smile for them both. For some reason, it's easier in the last half hour than it has been in days.]

I love a c-h-a-l-l-e-n-g-e.

[good, good. he's still worn out and his patience for most of life is thin... but this is probably the nicest time he's had in a week.]

What about you? [because he's already asked about everyone else.] How have you been?

I got drunk

[It should be pretty obvious how she's been, just off that. But she thinks, holding her hands up, ready to say something else.]

Lost people.

[But it's more than just that. She hesitates, trying to think how to say it, sign it.]

I learned something...

About me...

About my mother. It's bad.

[oooh. he rarely emotes in any way beyond narrowing his eyes or tilting his head, but the shapes of his skull-face manage to portray actual worry. or... sympathy, or... something of the sort. maybe it's all the same lumped-up feeling, with Zhas.]

...Do you want to tell me?

[she doesn't have to. she did just get really drunk, possibly to forget about all the stuff she just mentioned. if it wasn't about family, he probably wouldn't have asked at all.

but family is important, so the offer is there.]

[She swallows and nods. She's had her tears, but it's so soon after the feeling lingers, takes her a second to suppress.]

She was going to kill me. I was a baby-

[She shakes her head. That's not the right word.]

-child. Little child. S-a-c-r-i-f-i-c-e.

[they have a sign-word for "sacrifice", but Zhas isn't going to teach it to her.

he doesn't actually know much about Syeira or her relationship (or lack thereof) with her mother, or about the gods in her world or their magics... but it doesn't take a stretch of his imagination to understand that this can't have been easy to learn.]

Is that about... [he gestures across his eyes... and then, thinking better, reaches forward to gesture towards hers instead. the glowy eye thing, the monster she doesn't talk about.]

[A nod.]

They were sending me...my...e-s-s-e-n-c-e back.

['They', not 'she'.]

I killed her. My first kill.

[Can you blame her for being upset?]

[it bothers him to hear that she was capable of something like that at such a young age. it's that vampire-hunter instinct of his; the only reason he's okay with her potential destructive power now is because he has full permission to kill it if it ever gets out.

she's obviously upset. which is good... morally, but bad for right here and now, because he doesn't really know what to... say, or do. or if he's even supposed to do anything.

with a small nod, his response is to sign:] Is that what the drinking was for?

Red Fish Pond

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