gunsforhire | Log: Settling In

Who: Agent Washington (OU)+open!
What: Adjusting to life in Gulch
Where: Scoping out the city (Shopping District, Park, a cafe)
When: Between October 26th and 30th
Warnings: None

York's safe house really had turned out to be a good choice. The security was good and it does make him feel better knowing that it was there. Lets him sleep more easily, when he actually manages anyway. It's better than staying in the casino with the constant noise of people outside leaving him on edge.

Getting to grips with the city is a top priority though, and has him heading out . Exploring. Scoping out is probably more accurate, treating it like he would a mission.

The shopping district seems the best place to start, busiest at least, and a good place to figure out what's normal here. The helmet store has a wide variety of them in the window, and he scans a catalogue showing enhancements and mods that are available. Some of those would be pretty useful if he's honest with himself. There's weapons shops too; nothing as heavy as the weaponry he's used to having at his disposal, but it's a start. There's a nice set of knives in there too. Now that is something he's going to have to get hold of.

He spends lunches in the park. It's a little surreal to see the covered ceiling up above and know that the sky outside could kill him, but it's nice to take off his helmet for a while. The place is climate controlled, and considering the last places he'd been at home had been a desert, an icy wasteland and a humid pit of a canyon, he's not complaining.

There's a little cafe a few minutes walk from the safehouse that stays open all night, and it's a better option to be there than sitting awake and twitchy in the safe house when he can't sleep.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"You could ... look both ways."

"I do. I just have terrible luck with vehicles."

"Okay, you're the one who has to deal with the beeping." TC shrugs. "Here's one to measure the force of an explosion. That seems oddly specific." Why would anyone need that?

"Dealt with worse." Hell, some of them had had to deal with entirely other personalities living in their head. His brief experience with Epsilon and Alpha had not made him feel like that was a good thing.

"Bomb disposal training? Or bomb setting training."

"You aren't wrong." TC shrugs. "But that seems like something you'd get through work, not something to pick up at the shop."

"Depends on the job, I guess." And the legality of what you were trying to do. "And some people might just like having that info. But I agree. I doubt it'll be their biggest seller."

"Now this one is interesting." TC leans into the other man a little to point. "Scan a barcode and it will tell you if it's already been scanned. It would be a pain to set up, but it would keep you from buying pants you already own."

Wash frowns at the closeness. And a little at what's being pointed out. "But if they're comfortable, why wouldn't you want another pair?" He lives in fatigues when he isn't in armour. That has never been a problem for him.

"And if they're uncomfortable, or fell apart in the wash less than a week later?" TC leans back. "It's probably for inventory management or something, but it's still pretty cool."

"I..." He shrugs helplessly. "Honestly, I have all but lived in uniform for the last few years. Shopping for clothes has not been a priority. Everything I own is what got issued to me."

Poor guy. At least TC had friends. "Well, learn from my mistakes. It's better to buy one pair of jeans that will last than two or three that are held together by inertia. Make the investment even if you can sew, because when they fall apart, they'll be too fragile to patch. What branch are you?" Infantry. TC will put money on infantry or Marines.

"I will bear that in mind," Wash replies, a little bemused honestly. He hadn't realised so much went into purchasing a pair of jeans. "I'm a Marine," he replies.

TC nods. "Air Force," he says. "Welcome back to civilization. Where were you sent?"

Someone military. That is oddly reassuring. "All over the place. We were always moving around."

"So you were out in the weeds too?" TC asks. "I was on Torkulon, and then on Charr. Where were you?" If he can tell. TC was on more than one interplanetary classified mission.

Wash shrugged. "We had a few missions. They dropped us where we were needed, and then we got out. No time for sightseeing."

Short range strike team. Special Forces. Which means..."So you were stationed on a ship? Part of the dream team?"

"I guess you could say that, yeah. And we were stationed on a ship for the most part."

TC nods. He probably can't talk about anything he did. So TC changes the subject. "What brings you to Adaptive? Are you from here originally?

"No, I'm not from Adaptive. I guess I just- just drifted here." It didn't seem the kind of place that anyone intended to end up in. "You?"

"Born in Vos," TC answers. "It's on the other side of the planet. I came back after my tour- not the greatest place, but I at least knew people there."

That he parted with them on bad terms is obvious in his voice.

"Came back too different to the person who left, I'm guessing." That something went wrong isn't hard to figure out.

TC shrugs. "That place changed as much as I did," he says. "More cops. More criminals." Whatever they ended up as, his old crew at least started collecting filters for little kids and helping old people collect the pensions they were do. The police started the violence.

"Sounds like it's good you didn't stick around then," Wash replies. "Or that I never bothered going back to where I grew up." Not that he would want to.

"Who says this place is any better?" TC asks. "I just have less to compare it to."

And isn't that a cheerful thought.

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