[As far as Rodney is concerned, it's definitely not funny. Not even a little. This is the worst thing that has happened to him since he got to this place, bar none. When Poe strides out of the bedroom, he's still sitting at the tiny kitchen table with his face in his hands, groaning slightly as he tries somehow to wipe the images out of his brain.
Lifting his head a little, he squints at Poe with a slightly squinted expression of distrust and sardonic unamusement.]
Good morning...what was it? Doe?
[Shaking his head, he sighs and pushes up to his feet.]
You ever heard of hanging a sock on the door?
Lifting his head a little, he squints at Poe with a slightly squinted expression of distrust and sardonic unamusement.]
Good morning...what was it? Doe?
[Shaking his head, he sighs and pushes up to his feet.]
You ever heard of hanging a sock on the door?
Still not funny. But thanks.
[The kiss helps. Not enough to make the walk down the hallway and into the kitchen any less painful, or shameful, but as much as John wants to turn tail and run, it's a walk he has to make.
John enters the kitchen fully dressed, as if that might undo some of his earlier nakedness, and starts making coffee. Strong coffee. He'd be tempted to slip some whiskey into it, if he and Poe wouldn't be going back to work in a couple hours.]
His name's Poe. He's on the shuttle team. We're... co-pilots.
[That's one word for it. Truthfully, John has no idea what they are. If they're anything. They haven't talked about it yet. John doesn't know if they will. Talking isn't something John does a lot of, pre or postcoital, but he doesn't have a lot of sex with people he knows well enough to want to talk to, either.
John scrubs his hand over his jaw. He needs to shave sometime before before work. So much for a shared shower.]
I'm sorry, Rodney. I didn't think you'd be back before noon. I'll hang a sock next time.
[Assuming there ever is a next time. This doesn't exactly bode well for the future of whatever it is that's going on between him and Poe.]
Wait, you wanted herbal tea or something, right?
[The kiss helps. Not enough to make the walk down the hallway and into the kitchen any less painful, or shameful, but as much as John wants to turn tail and run, it's a walk he has to make.
John enters the kitchen fully dressed, as if that might undo some of his earlier nakedness, and starts making coffee. Strong coffee. He'd be tempted to slip some whiskey into it, if he and Poe wouldn't be going back to work in a couple hours.]
His name's Poe. He's on the shuttle team. We're... co-pilots.
[That's one word for it. Truthfully, John has no idea what they are. If they're anything. They haven't talked about it yet. John doesn't know if they will. Talking isn't something John does a lot of, pre or postcoital, but he doesn't have a lot of sex with people he knows well enough to want to talk to, either.
John scrubs his hand over his jaw. He needs to shave sometime before before work. So much for a shared shower.]
I'm sorry, Rodney. I didn't think you'd be back before noon. I'll hang a sock next time.
[Assuming there ever is a next time. This doesn't exactly bode well for the future of whatever it is that's going on between him and Poe.]
Wait, you wanted herbal tea or something, right?
Yeah, I'd say getting shot tends to be pretty all or nothing.
[As in you live, or you don't. Something John's sure Finn is well aware of. The kid's got some salt to him. Gunpowder, too. That's a must to be on John's team. He doesn't have the time or inclination to train civilians turned hobby-guard, or eyes in the back of his head. When the mission goes south, which it almost always does when your environment and enemy are largely unknown, John needs people he can trust to execute his orders under pressure, as well as use their own judgment should those orders no longer apply.
When it comes down to it, you've seen war, or you haven't. There's no substitute for experience. No amount of reading, watching, or listening to other people talk about it can prepare you. Kind of like being shot, but on a much larger scale.
John skewers a piece of chicken and waffle on his fork, swirling it into a pool of syrup. He's glad Finn's eating. That means something. John doesn't eat when he doesn't trust people, either.]
I'm curious to know what you think of the Perimeter Guard.
[As in you live, or you don't. Something John's sure Finn is well aware of. The kid's got some salt to him. Gunpowder, too. That's a must to be on John's team. He doesn't have the time or inclination to train civilians turned hobby-guard, or eyes in the back of his head. When the mission goes south, which it almost always does when your environment and enemy are largely unknown, John needs people he can trust to execute his orders under pressure, as well as use their own judgment should those orders no longer apply.
When it comes down to it, you've seen war, or you haven't. There's no substitute for experience. No amount of reading, watching, or listening to other people talk about it can prepare you. Kind of like being shot, but on a much larger scale.
John skewers a piece of chicken and waffle on his fork, swirling it into a pool of syrup. He's glad Finn's eating. That means something. John doesn't eat when he doesn't trust people, either.]
I'm curious to know what you think of the Perimeter Guard.
Edited 2018-01-28 19:58 (UTC)
What does a sock on the door have to do with anything?
[ He can guess. He definitely guessed. He is definitely, definitely being a shithead. Poe leans against the counter, still wearing that smile, arms crossed over his chest.
It's cute, their mutual horror. He can't help it. The only time he's been mortified by being walked in on (it's happened, once or twice over the years; natural result of sex in occasionally odd places) was that time when he was seventeen and his dad came walking in. Now that took some recovery time.
There's so much untapped humor potential in John referring to them as co-pilots right now, but Poe has mercy. He has at least that much mercy. ]
And I kinda like 'Doe'.
[ He can guess. He definitely guessed. He is definitely, definitely being a shithead. Poe leans against the counter, still wearing that smile, arms crossed over his chest.
It's cute, their mutual horror. He can't help it. The only time he's been mortified by being walked in on (it's happened, once or twice over the years; natural result of sex in occasionally odd places) was that time when he was seventeen and his dad came walking in. Now that took some recovery time.
There's so much untapped humor potential in John referring to them as co-pilots right now, but Poe has mercy. He has at least that much mercy. ]
And I kinda like 'Doe'.
[ He furrows his brow. ]
What I think of it.
[ Not quite a question, not quite a statement. It hovers somewhere in between. That's not really something people have asked him. Finn gives it a second, like he's either waiting for clarification or waiting for John to be like "actually never mind, I don't want to hear it." When it doesn't seem to be forthcoming, he goes ahead. ]
I think when I got here and said I had combat training, I didn't like that it was the first place I got pointed to. I think that happens to a lot of people who don't know much else and don't know they can ask for more options. But I also think that's a problem that runs a little higher up.
[ Honestly, once he was stable enough to leave the hospital and get the proper orientation, everything up to and including the hospital vending machines was shady as hell to Finn. He won't pretend otherwise.
Anyway, he's... got a lot of opinions incoming. He runs on having opinions about everything he can, really, because a little less than three months of of it has barely put a dent in 23 years of not knowing that he could have them at all. There's a difference between having opinions and making choices during a simulation. ]
I think the Perimeter Guard does the best it can to look out for this city with what it's got. Boot camp runs too short, even if you know already what you're doing. I can't figure out if there's a point to that or if they just want to get their numbers up faster. Doesn't seem like the best idea.
[ Small militias, though. What can you do. ]
I think it looks like a bad roster balance between standard patrol and special units on paper, but they put stock into cooperation and going where you're needed when they need it. It holds up fine. Unit cohesion is good, for the most part. I think the people are good, for the most part. [ There's no way every single person in this organization is gonna be inherently good or even easy to get along with, necessarily. ] I think I could leave if I wanted without having to watch my back over it, and the work's good enough that I can choose to stay. I think I've made myself useful.
[ He stops, tips his head to one side. ]
Best mess hall I've ever eaten in, too. As much as that's worth.
What I think of it.
[ Not quite a question, not quite a statement. It hovers somewhere in between. That's not really something people have asked him. Finn gives it a second, like he's either waiting for clarification or waiting for John to be like "actually never mind, I don't want to hear it." When it doesn't seem to be forthcoming, he goes ahead. ]
I think when I got here and said I had combat training, I didn't like that it was the first place I got pointed to. I think that happens to a lot of people who don't know much else and don't know they can ask for more options. But I also think that's a problem that runs a little higher up.
[ Honestly, once he was stable enough to leave the hospital and get the proper orientation, everything up to and including the hospital vending machines was shady as hell to Finn. He won't pretend otherwise.
Anyway, he's... got a lot of opinions incoming. He runs on having opinions about everything he can, really, because a little less than three months of of it has barely put a dent in 23 years of not knowing that he could have them at all. There's a difference between having opinions and making choices during a simulation. ]
I think the Perimeter Guard does the best it can to look out for this city with what it's got. Boot camp runs too short, even if you know already what you're doing. I can't figure out if there's a point to that or if they just want to get their numbers up faster. Doesn't seem like the best idea.
[ Small militias, though. What can you do. ]
I think it looks like a bad roster balance between standard patrol and special units on paper, but they put stock into cooperation and going where you're needed when they need it. It holds up fine. Unit cohesion is good, for the most part. I think the people are good, for the most part. [ There's no way every single person in this organization is gonna be inherently good or even easy to get along with, necessarily. ] I think I could leave if I wanted without having to watch my back over it, and the work's good enough that I can choose to stay. I think I've made myself useful.
[ He stops, tips his head to one side. ]
Best mess hall I've ever eaten in, too. As much as that's worth.
[Finn talks. John listens. He wouldn't have asked if he wasn't interested.
The kid has a lot to say. That speaks to strong observational skills, and a capacity for critical thinking. John's honestly impressed by his breakdown. Finn is sharper than he lets on, at any rate. Good for him. It's important to keep something in your pocket.]
It's worth something.
[John munches thoughtfully on his last bite of waffle, and washes it down with some coffee. Dabs at the corners of his mouth with the corners of an already crumpled up napkin. He doesn't like unnecessary mess. Finn will learn that about him when they work together.]
We're on the same page, more or less. The PG's got growing pains. You can tell they started as a group of rangers, a few skilled people to take care of the bad stuff outside the wall while law enforcement deals with people. Then the wall got bigger, the PG got bigger, but they're still operating to the same grass-roots standards.
It's good, in some ways. People new to this place might not respond well to a solid chain of command or regiment. They can't be expected to take a hard knee to people they don't know, and they can choose their level of commitment.
I think the reason us military types get pointed in this direction is because it's easier to keep an eye on us if we're all in the same place, and it keeps our trigger fingers from getting itchy. That said, the levels of experience and skill required to join are... all over the place.
They should probably implement a reserve force, we have something like that back home. People who want to help, and to learn, but don't necessarily have the right background or experience to be anything but a liability on the field. You train them like it's their job, and keep them in auxiliary for disaster relief, or god help us, support in theatre, until they meet the requirements of the regular forces.
I've been pretty picky about the people I'm asking to join my team for a reason. I'm not comfortable taking responsibility for the actions of untrained civilians with machine guns unless it's absolutely necessary. If they don't hurt themselves, they'll hurt someone else.
Good waffles, huh?
The kid has a lot to say. That speaks to strong observational skills, and a capacity for critical thinking. John's honestly impressed by his breakdown. Finn is sharper than he lets on, at any rate. Good for him. It's important to keep something in your pocket.]
It's worth something.
[John munches thoughtfully on his last bite of waffle, and washes it down with some coffee. Dabs at the corners of his mouth with the corners of an already crumpled up napkin. He doesn't like unnecessary mess. Finn will learn that about him when they work together.]
We're on the same page, more or less. The PG's got growing pains. You can tell they started as a group of rangers, a few skilled people to take care of the bad stuff outside the wall while law enforcement deals with people. Then the wall got bigger, the PG got bigger, but they're still operating to the same grass-roots standards.
It's good, in some ways. People new to this place might not respond well to a solid chain of command or regiment. They can't be expected to take a hard knee to people they don't know, and they can choose their level of commitment.
I think the reason us military types get pointed in this direction is because it's easier to keep an eye on us if we're all in the same place, and it keeps our trigger fingers from getting itchy. That said, the levels of experience and skill required to join are... all over the place.
They should probably implement a reserve force, we have something like that back home. People who want to help, and to learn, but don't necessarily have the right background or experience to be anything but a liability on the field. You train them like it's their job, and keep them in auxiliary for disaster relief, or god help us, support in theatre, until they meet the requirements of the regular forces.
I've been pretty picky about the people I'm asking to join my team for a reason. I'm not comfortable taking responsibility for the actions of untrained civilians with machine guns unless it's absolutely necessary. If they don't hurt themselves, they'll hurt someone else.
Good waffles, huh?
[ Finn absorbs his responses, interest written clearly across his face. He likes being able to lay out his opinions. He likes being able to hear others, too. It doesn't always line up well, sometimes leads more to argument than agreement, but provided it's not anything gravely serious, even that's not necessarily bad.
With what John has to say, he leans towards agreement easily enough. It's reasonable, and all more or less on the same page, like John said.
John's explanation of a reserve force sparks particular interest. Finn thinks of Slip, not for the first time, surely not for the last. Wonders for a brief moment if he could have fared better in something like that, even still attached to the First Order in some capacity.
(The idea washes away, as it always does, in the reality of knowing that the First Order would only ever section off stormtroopers like Slip in order to throw them away more quickly. Lower-tier cannon fodder. But it was nice to have the thought.)
Finn's mouth twitches into a brief, passable smile in spite of himself. ]
Yeah, well. Don't have to be picky to have good taste in food.
[ People always turn out more complicated. most importantly, finn will die to defend his right to eat vegetable-covered pizza and call it tasteful. ]
With what John has to say, he leans towards agreement easily enough. It's reasonable, and all more or less on the same page, like John said.
John's explanation of a reserve force sparks particular interest. Finn thinks of Slip, not for the first time, surely not for the last. Wonders for a brief moment if he could have fared better in something like that, even still attached to the First Order in some capacity.
(The idea washes away, as it always does, in the reality of knowing that the First Order would only ever section off stormtroopers like Slip in order to throw them away more quickly. Lower-tier cannon fodder. But it was nice to have the thought.)
Finn's mouth twitches into a brief, passable smile in spite of himself. ]
Yeah, well. Don't have to be picky to have good taste in food.
[ People always turn out more complicated. most importantly, finn will die to defend his right to eat vegetable-covered pizza and call it tasteful. ]
voice; @c.silva - backdated a little bit into january bendytime idk fight me
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childofaxios
2018-02-01 01:03 am (UTC)(link)
Sir? Do you have a moment?
[ She may or may not be bracing herself for disapproval. (She's definitely bracing herself for disapproval. ]
[ She may or may not be bracing herself for disapproval. (She's definitely bracing herself for disapproval. ]
[ A pause as she figures out where to start with this. Might as well go for the meat of it. ]
There’s a man living with his dog out in the ruins past the wall. I’ve offered to help keep him supplied.
There’s a man living with his dog out in the ruins past the wall. I’ve offered to help keep him supplied.
No, sir.
[ What.... is she asking for. She's suddenly not sure, as evidenced by the long pause between her 'no, sir' and what she says next.
She's not even sure this is what she's asking, what she wants, but she sounds firm and confident in spite of that. ]
I'd like permission to use my tactical gear beyond the wall off-mission.
[ What.... is she asking for. She's suddenly not sure, as evidenced by the long pause between her 'no, sir' and what she says next.
She's not even sure this is what she's asking, what she wants, but she sounds firm and confident in spite of that. ]
I'd like permission to use my tactical gear beyond the wall off-mission.
Sir--
[ It's a protest, even though she knows he's right about the danger. ]
I don't think he'll trust me unless I come alone.
[ It's a protest, even though she knows he's right about the danger. ]
I don't think he'll trust me unless I come alone.
I wouldn't go by myself, and I'm older, smarter, and stronger than you. That's not an insult, it's a fact.
How do you even know this guy? Is he living off-grid by choice, or did he get kicked out? How do you know there isn't more than just him out there? What if it's an ambush? Hell, what if he eats people?
A sixteen-year-old might be his idea of veal.
How do you even know this guy? Is he living off-grid by choice, or did he get kicked out? How do you know there isn't more than just him out there? What if it's an ambush? Hell, what if he eats people?
A sixteen-year-old might be his idea of veal.
Edited 2018-02-04 00:17 (UTC)
I've already done it once.
That's part of what I'm trying to find out. He sent his dog into town to steal food. He told me to leave when I found him. If there's a reason he's not in prison, out there alone--
[ Sometimes she hates the way John makes her feel like a kid. Uncertainly: ] He seemed like he needed help.
That's part of what I'm trying to find out. He sent his dog into town to steal food. He told me to leave when I found him. If there's a reason he's not in prison, out there alone--
[ Sometimes she hates the way John makes her feel like a kid. Uncertainly: ] He seemed like he needed help.
You've already done it once? Then why the hell are you asking me?
It obviously doesn't matter what I think, you're just going to go ahead and do it anyway.
[Yes, he's mad.]
Tell me when, where, and for how long. At the very least, I expect you to check in as soon as you get there, and report your ETA when you leave.
It obviously doesn't matter what I think, you're just going to go ahead and do it anyway.
[Yes, he's mad.]
Tell me when, where, and for how long. At the very least, I expect you to check in as soon as you get there, and report your ETA when you leave.
Edited 2018-02-04 00:41 (UTC)
[ His anger cuts right through her, and that in and of itself leaves her speechless for several seconds that feel like they last forever.
She doesn't want him to be angry with her. Now she feels like a kid and she feels small in a way she hasn't since her last argument with her mother. ]
Sir, I. [ There's nothing to follow that. She feels written off, a predicted casualty based on her own stupidity.
Even quieter: ] I didn't intend to go that far out the first time. I was--
[ She's reminded of how stupid she found herself in the moment, when James had asked her why she came that far. ] I was trying to catch the dog.
She doesn't want him to be angry with her. Now she feels like a kid and she feels small in a way she hasn't since her last argument with her mother. ]
Sir, I. [ There's nothing to follow that. She feels written off, a predicted casualty based on her own stupidity.
Even quieter: ] I didn't intend to go that far out the first time. I was--
[ She's reminded of how stupid she found herself in the moment, when James had asked her why she came that far. ] I was trying to catch the dog.
I know, sir. But--
He was honest with me. He wanted me to leave, to let me leave, even when I told him it would be simpler to kill me if he wanted to stay hidden. There's a reason he's out there, and I think if I help him he'll tell me why.
Or he'll tell you why.
He was honest with me. He wanted me to leave, to let me leave, even when I told him it would be simpler to kill me if he wanted to stay hidden. There's a reason he's out there, and I think if I help him he'll tell me why.
Or he'll tell you why.
I think he was military. Your kind of military. And he thinks I'm a kid.
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