log: bar post #something

[alphawho]

Who: Whoever wants to hang out at a bar, also Church
What: Bar post!
Where: Eagle & Asp
When: 1/11-1/18
Warnings: ...church

Comments

[protective_logic]

"I came here to drink with a friend and you made him uncomfortable and you won't go away," Delta suggests. That's a damn good reason to be upset. "Church, please?"

[notyourrookie]

"It's fine," Wash says. "Something like that isn't going to stay secret for long anyway." Not with people like his friends around. He's surprised they haven't figured out more quickly.

[alphawho]

"Awesome, paint me as the villain, that's cool." Church throws up his hands. "I'll find someone's glass needs refilling." Not that he's ever far away, but he'll at least storm away enough down the bar that he's not overhearing.

[protective_logic]

Maybe he doesn't want to talk to Church about Wash keeping an understandable secret from him, or his brother nagging the whole time. So once he's gone he returns his attention to Wash.

"I understand you not telling anyone. That can't be something easy to deal with. You... came out of a real war. And I'm guessing you don't do security work. Someone from a war, mercenary work would probably be more your pace."

[notyourrookie]

He looks surprised when Delta says that he understands. That kind of acceptance isn't something he's used to, even here. "Biggest war in human history," he says. "We were facing extinction." And in the end, he hadn't done a damn thing. Not really. It had all been useless.

He lets out a breath. "Yeah, I'm a merc. Got registered not long before we met. I'm... good at it. It's what I know."

[protective_logic]

"I suppose a congratulations, if belated, is in order," Delta sighs. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. Yeah, he keeps some of Omega's contact information on him.

"If you're hurt on a job and need help, my older brother does support for mercs."

Still, it's frustrating. Why can't he make friends who are normal? "I suppose the clothes I helped you find aren't at all suited to your work. For that I'm sorry."

Maybe he's sobered up a bit.

[notyourrookie]

He takes the offered card and fights to keep his expression blank. Omega. Delta is telling him that Omega is some kind of doctor. Omega who was Alpha's distilled rage.

"Thanks. That's good to know." He slides the card into his pocket and then smiles. "And the clothes are great. I really did need something to wear for everyday. And I've lived in military gear since I enlisted."

[protective_logic]

"I can't even imagine," Delta admits before sipping his drink. "What do you do? Your specialization?"

There, new topic because he feels too awkward to have another.

[notyourrookie]

"Battle rifle," Wash says. That one's easy enough. He's always been good with it, better than normal. "And knives. I was always good at general combat. Some battlefield mechanical stuff. Whatever needs doing really."

[protective_logic]

"I meant, the sorts of jobs," he says, running his finger around the edge of the his drink.

Why does he suddenly feel so awkward? Right, because mercenaries seem to mess up his life. Not that they're all bad. York, Texas...

"Did you consider other work?"

[notyourrookie]

Wash shrugs. "Pretty much whatever someone wants to pay me to do right now." He's got his certification for C-rank coming and after that he can decide. "Guarding things. Taking things that are being guarded. Nothing has exploded yet. It's pretty calm."

His standards are so fucked up and it's kind of depressing even to him.

"I... I've been doing this kind of stuff since I was old enough to enlist. I've never done any other kind of work."

[protective_logic]

"That makes sense," Delta shrugs. "Sorry I... haven't had the best experience with mercs."

[notyourrookie]

I haven't had the best experience with AIs is something he keeps to himself. It's not fair. He knows it's not. Still hurts. "It's weird to me that it's such a big thing here," he says.

[protective_logic]

"It's weird to me too, and I've always lived here. But I try not to hold it against people who do the work. Sometimes this... is what people have to do."

Like Maine. "Sorry. Just a bit burned by someone recently."

[notyourrookie]

"I figured out pretty quickly I'm not suited for anything normal. Just... it wouldn't work." He'd be worried about hurting someone, reacting without thinking. Besides, he's good at what he does.

"It's alright. I know mercenary work wouldn't sit well with most people."

[protective_logic]

"There are three mercs in my family," Delta shrugs. "My ex-boyfriend is a mercenary who just got his A rank. One of my best friends is a mercenary. And I've been led to understand that my work will make me interact with mercenaries quite a bit. So I guess it isn't too much of a problem."

Plus there was Louisiana and Felix. Great stuff.

[notyourrookie]

"Three? Damn. And... I think you know more mercs than I do," he says, his smile wry. "I didn't mean to mislead you. I'm just never sure how anyone will take it. Or how safe it is."

[protective_logic]

"It's not something a lot of people talk about," Delta shrugs. "It's only been this last year that this has happened in my life. Things... Let's say I didn't get out much and when I did somehow I turned into mercenary bait."

Which, he supposes, must be how he met Wash. Whatever it is about him that draws mercenaries into the area.

[notyourrookie]

"Apparently we're like trams. You spend years never seeing one and then three come along at once." He has found them pretty unavoidable himself, but his situation is different. Then again, he's pretty sure Delta is doomed to get mixed up with this stuff no matter the universe.

[protective_logic]

"Eleven trams," Delta corrects under his breath. Because Wash really does make it roughly that, doesn't he? Dear god, he knows more mercenaries than he knows who aren't mercs. That's...

Good thing he's sitting down. "Mercenaries don't tend to like me very much, so it's a touch of a problem."

[notyourrookie]

"Really? I dunno. You seem pretty decent to me." York was friends with him too, right? It was jarring trying to fit his preconceptions into the person in front of him.

[protective_logic]

That makes Delta chuckle. Yeah. Decent. He hurts people. A lot.

"Tell that to Maine."

But of course, he can't, because he doesn't know Maine, so whatever. "It's not as simple as being decent. You have to be more than that."

[notyourrookie]

He winces at the mention of Maine, and stares down at his drink for a moment. The Meta had stopped being Maine a long time ago. Doesn't mean he doesn't feel a mix of painful emotions when he thinks of the Meta plunging off a cliff.

"Is that the ex?" he asks instead. "Because one breakup doesn't mean everything is over. Is anyone dead yet because of you?" He doubts it. "Then you're doing great."

[protective_logic]

"You're like pretty much everyone else," Delta grumbles, pushing up from his stool, a bit unsteady. "No, I'm not a mercenary. My decisions don't kill people. I'm tired of people telling me how to feel about what happened. And I sure as hell don't want to hear it from a guy I barely even know. You don't know what I was like with him. What he did for me. How he changed me. So you sure don't know what breaking up with him means. Don't act like you do."

Where does he get off saying things like that?

[notyourrookie]

"Never said you couldn't be pissed off about it, or miserable," Wash replies. "Just that you've still got a life. Might as well make the most of it."

No, he doesn't know how Maine made Delta feel. Not here. Doesn't want to think about what happened to Delta when he was taken by the Meta.

"Don't need to know someone to know that a breakup doesn't mean the end of the world."

He takes a breath, his fingers clenching where they rest on the bar. Maine in recovery, his throat bandaged. Maine with Sigma's flames circling him. The Meta, looking and sounding like Maine, but hollowed out and awful.