gunsforhire | log: bar post #something

"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."

"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.

"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."

"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.

"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.

"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."

"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.

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."

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."

"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?

"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.

Delta sighs and shakes his head. "HE gave me a life outside of my family. So 'still' isn't really a thing going on here. Now I've got the family I had before, the job I never expected to have, and no aspirations on the future or freedom from the responsibilities at home. So explain exactly what life I 'still' have to go back to without him?"

Because Maine took everything whether he meant to or not.

"Aspirations? That's all on you. It's not someone else's responsibility to give you that." He leans back in his seat and ugh, he can't decide if he's too drunk or too sober to deal with this.

"It's not fair. Pinning your entire life on one person like that." He squeezes his eyes closed against the memory of her, of Allison. The Director's obsessive love that had fucked them all over. "It's unhealthy."

Wow. That's... Delta hasn't been this mad in a long time.

"What's unhealthy, asshole, is shooting people for a living."

That pathetic parting shot delivered he turns on his heels, almost falls over in the process, and heads for the door. Wash sure as fuck can pay for their drinks. He's not going to sit here and be lectured by the person who was supposed to be DISTRACTING him, who he had come out here to drink with so he didn't have to feel like shit for how he felt about Maine.

Edited 2016-02-11 03:33 (UTC)

"Yeah," Wash calls back, frustration welling bitter and angry. "I know exactly how fucking unhealthy I am." And he hates seeing someone else fall into that.

"Fuck." He growls, and pays quickly, then heads out after Delta, running to catch up to him.

"What do you want?" Delta demands as the man catches up to him. "Seriously, what could you possibly want?"

He slows down, just a little. "I-" He takes a breath, because this doesn't come easily to him. "I came to apologise. Not my business. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm about the most emotionally unhealthy person you're ever likely to meet so... I'm sorry."

"I think I might be," Delta shrugs. "Or at least in contention. I left the guy because I felt that all these mercenaries around my family was dangerous. I was trying to protect them. And just ended up hurting myself because no one seems to respect that distance, that..."

He shakes his head. "You ever been in love, that sort of deep kind of love where you're making plans for your future together even though you have no reason to be sure there is a future together? That's what I had with him. He brought me out of my shell, showed me the world, gave me things to be passionate about and live for and learn to do. He gave me hope that I wasn't always going to live my whole life as a middle-aged guy who doesn't do anything but live for little kids because he has no life of his own. So you don't get what I had with him. You don't... you don't know and you can't say. You don't... You don't know."

Because no one knows. "York says it gets better, with time. But time... didn't... It's not."

It's not enough.

He wants to say no. He knows he hasn't. He's never loved anyone like that. But he thinks of her and it's like his chest tightens up and his mouth goes dry and he wants to scream and he wants to cry and it hurts so much.

"I might... have an idea how that feels actually," he says, his voice sounding strained even to him. It's what The Director had felt for her, and what Alpha had felt for her that had created Beta. It's what had got everyone he cared about killed.

His next breath comes in a shuddering gasp and he fights to get himself back under control.

Oh god, he's... Delta has too much parenting instincts. He moves and pulls Wash into his arms. His grip stays loose, if this man really has been through war then he might have reactions to contact that Delta can't really handle. But he can't just stand here and let this guy hurt. It's not in his nature.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, even if the words are a bit slide-y from the drinks. "I didn't mean to upset you."

He flinches a bit, but doesn't actively pull away and manages to keep himself under control, at least as far as lashing out is concerned. Fuck, why now? Why here?

He rubs at the back of his neck and curses Epsilon. Times like this, is goddam feels like the AI is still there.

"Not- it's not your fault. Flashbacks." That's the best way he can describe it without going into detail.

"Should... buy you more booze?" Delta asks, very worried. If he's flinching, well, Delta lets go.

He pulls away, standing awkwardly with his arms wrapped around himself.

"I told you I was fucked up," he says, wry but unhappy. "And I am sorry."

"Makes two of us," Delta shrugs. "Go back in, gonna buy you another drink."

log: bar post #something

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