gunsforhire | log: bar post #something

"It's not terrible. Just has a hell of a kick and-"

He goes still when Delta asks that, stares down at the drink. "Military title. part of a special project."

"Yeah, I haven't actually pinned down a nickname yet. I mean...the mysterious dude who is Wash but isn't? Falling through another universe? I dunno, haven't found anything fitting. It'll come to me eventually."

"Falling through..." Delta starts and he looks at Wash. "What's he talking about?"

This was a terrible idea. Why had he ever thought that something could go right for him, especially when AIs were involved? Especially when Church is incapable of keeping his mouth shut.

"I did say I came from off-world."

"...I'm sorry, is this a thing? Are we doing a thing?" He looks between the two of them. "I kinda thought people knew. Was I not supposed to say shit? Could someone maybe say something to me if I'm not supposed to say something?"

"Go away," Delta tells his brother firmly, a touch angry. Then he turns his attention to Wash.

"That's why you look like the Washington I know?"

He gives Church a look. "What, you think I just go around announcing I'm from another goddam universe?"

He sighs and leans back in his seat, staring at the bar. "Yeah. Except older, more tired and bitter."

"Excuse me, how am I supposed to know who you tell anything to? I thought maybe you said things to some of the...people we hang out around. Once again, didn't tell me not to tell anyone!" Nope, not going away.

"Would you want someone sharing your secrets, Church," Delta counters, his voice hard. He wants to talk about this, but not with Church.

"Because it sounds fucking insane! You know how much I love the implication that I'm crazy. Which I'm not."

He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. Everyone seems to find out anyway."

"Which I wouldn't have told if I had known it was a secret, which is the point I'm trying to make! Jesus christ, Delta, could you maybe think for like two seconds ever? Why are you even mad at me for?"

"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?"

"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.

"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.

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."

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."

"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.

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."

"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.

"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."

"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?"

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."

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

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.

"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."

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