lifeaftr | home sweet home? (closed)

[Something Church has: a shaving razor. Something Church has no use for: a shaving razor. It's stayed in the bag with the other stuff, most of which he doesn't need. And as it's more or less forgotten, he doesn't think to offer it up to anyone yet. Because he's a selfish prick who hasn't had to think about shaving for like two years.

He's been warned about Maine, but he hasn't met Maine. Not until he nearly runs right into the guy, and at first, he's confused. Armor's armor, but there's a whole head and a face and it only vaguely niggles at the back of his mind.]

Who the fuck are you?

[That is, of course, his near instantaneous response to the situation. But Church, stupid as he is, isn't a complete moron. (Just mostly one.) He can see white armor, a third Freelancer running around, a Really Big Guy he has to look up and up at, and a memory of being attacked by a tall fucking growly menace.] Oh, shit- [He instinctively takes a step back.] Uh...uhhhh...

Me-uh, Mai--Maine? Agent, uh, Maine?

[ When Wash told Maine that the Mother of Invention's smart A.I. was around, Maine neglected to ask what Church looks like. So, when the Freelancer sees what appears to be a blue Simulation Trooper, he's understandably surprised.

When the hell did a Sim get here? And why is he here, in Maine's way?

Then recognition dawns in Church. The other man stutters out his name — a name that Maine rarely bothers giving to Sims — and it clicks. This is the A.I. This is the invisible member of Maine's team. This is Church, who doesn't remember who he is.

Immediately, Maine's expression shifts from annoyed to contemplative. He nods, then asks, ]

Church?

[ That sure is a deep, growly voice — but it's distinctly different from the Meta's near-inhuman noises. ]

...Yeah? [The reactionary part says oh god the meta KNOWS WHO YOU ARE, but he squashes that down as much as he can. Wash had been so insistent. So adamant. That this is not the Meta. The Meta never talked, not that he'd ever heard. His body language still screams fear response, but he doesn't run.]

Wash said something, huh? He, uh. Told me about you. Well. Mentioned you were here.

[ The massive Freelancer nods and hums an affirmative. Grunts out, ]

Same.

[ As far as Maine knows, there's no reason Church shouldn't know what Wash said. Not the entirety of it, obviously, but that Wash gave Maine a heads up.

It's a little odd, seeing such blatant fear in Church. Fear itself isn't unusual at all; Maine's typically only surprised when strangers aren't wary of him. But he knows that Church should know him. Knows that Church should be aware that the Freelancer isn't going to attack an ally.

… Well. Not unless he's ordered to do so. Not unless his fury blinds him to any bystanders who might get hurt.

Shaking off the oddity, he asks, ]

You good?

[ Whatever Church might think of him, Maine wants to be sure that the A.I. is doing all right. ]

Uh. [He brings his other foot back where the first had stepped back in fear just so he can actually stand straight, or straighter anyway. Better that he can see Maine's face instead of that helmet, but still.] Depends on your definition of good? I mean I'm here. And functioning. And not in pain? Currently? But on the other hand, I'm here and can't go home again and my girlfriend's been replaced by a nicer human who knew other versions of me and Wash is terrible at explaining anything in a way that makes me want to not punch his face in, so, I mean, six of one, half dozen of the other?

[ That's. A fair bit of information to process. Maine blinks once. Tilts his head to the side as he considers it. ]

Sounds rough.

[ An understatement, perhaps. But he's still working on the whole 'girlfriend' part, let alone figuring out how to deal with Wash's explanations. ]

[That actually makes him laugh, which actually makes him relax a hair.]

Yeah, that's kind of an understatement, but I'll take it.

And...you? You're...good? I don't know how much Wash told you about--[the Meta? the Alpha?]--anything.

[ Maine takes that laugh as a little victory. Shrugs as he answers, mostly echoing Church's words: ]

Here. Can't go home. From past.

[ Six of one, right? ]

Yeah, sounds like Wash is lightyears ahead of us, which, frankly? Is pretty fucking bullshit. It had to be the guy that can't tell a story worth a damn? I get that he's a soldier, but I bet even his reports would be hard to follow, right?

[ The sitrep that Wash gave may have been meandering, in Maine's opinion, but the situation itself was anything but typical. Besides: ]

Could be worse.

[ And then, with a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips: ]

Mine get returned. "Too brief for briefing."

[ It's not something Maine would share with a stranger. But the Freelancer doesn't consider Church a stranger. As far as he's concerned, Church is just an ally who has forgotten him. ]

[Church relaxes even further, even reaches over and gives Maine a quick tap on the chestpiece.] You're all right! I'm pretty sure you could rip me in half by just looking at me wrong, but you're all right, big guy. After being around the team I was assigned to? I think everyone can appreciate someone who knows the value of when to shut the fuck up.

[ Another victory! The amusement tugging at Maine's lips turns to a proper smile — tiny, but genuine — as he raises his eyebrows in interest. ]

Chatty?

[ The team to which Church was assigned, he means. ]

Oh yeah. Me in particular, I'm not gonna lie, but then you had the genuine idiot who would not shut up no matter how many times you yelled at him to, and you had the pervert who could never resist a single line of suggestion or innuendo even at a distance. Our CO before that was a little less of a chatterbox, but he still liked talking and would say some...uh. Sometimes weird stuff. I think he just had a daddy kink. Or just...really, really wanted kids? I dunno, I'm pretty sure you don't get into Blue Team without having issues.

[Wash has yet to tell him/figure out that CO was Florida, so. That'll be fun.]

[ Maine's eyebrows climb higher as Church describes his team. The Freelancer has never bothered to get to know any Sims; from the sound of it, that's been a solid decision. ]

Hmm.

[ A low grunt of acknowledgment. Because really, what is there to say to all that? It sounds awful.

With a little gesture to their surroundings: ]

Nice break.

[ From all of those Blue Team issues. ]

Ha, yeah, you can say that again.

I mean. Kind of. I mean...I was actually reassigned away from them for kindofoverayear so once I met back up with--the dumb one, anyway, and the Reds, oh, I haven't even started on the Reds! [Change of topic before he admits to missing anyone he definitely doesn't miss at all nope!] The hyper-patriotic old geezer who comes up with really overelaborate plans, the kiss-ass nerdlord, the laziest shit you have ever met, and...Donut. [lbh donut's in a special category all his own]

[ That is not at all a subtle change of topic, but know what? Maine's all about lack of subtlety. He goes along with it, mildly curious that Church seems to know so much about the opposing team. Aren't they supposed to be at "war"?

Then comes "Donut," and Maine blinks. ]

"Donut." [ He tilts his head, incredulous. ] A name?

[ Generally speaking, Maine doesn't feel sympathy often. But damn, what poor son of a bitch got saddled with that as a name? ]

Legit honest to god 100% his name. Franklin Delano Donut. Poor bastard. He's very...he's...kinda like... [How does one describe Donut?] He's kind of like Tucker's polar opposite? Where Tucker is the ladies man who takes anything that sounds vaguely sexual and adds 'bow chicka bow wow' to it, Donut is...the, uh...effeminate man who stumbles into innuendo probably on accident. I mean, he doesn't want to admit to doing it on purpose, but if it is all an accident, it's a real impressive one. His armor's pink.

Sorry. It's lightish red.

[ Church certainly wasn't kidding about being chatty. While Maine might find it annoying with someone else, he gives his amnesiac teammate — that is, after all, what he considers Church to be — his full attention. Snorts his amusement at "lightish red," then brings a big hand up to rub at his (unfortunately still itchy) jawline.

Speaking of ridiculous armor colors: ]

Two purple teammates. Green accents. Specialty's stealth.

[ Said with a roll of his eyes. Who puts a stealth duo in purple and green? North's armor might make sense in dark environments, but South's? South's is just flashy. ]

Edited 2019-04-23 04:44 (UTC)

Coulda been worse. Coulda given your sniper white armor. Oh wait. [Who picked these colors, who made these choices??] Wait--who puts purple and green together anyway? What an eyesore. At least with you, you're meant to stand out, big guy. Wash has his danger yellow stripes like a bumblebee, Tex doesn't even need to be in black with her camo unit

[ Maine's expression brightens a bit at the mention of a sniper in white. Does that mean Church knows Wyoming? But he's quickly distracted by the mention of Texas' camo unit.

Texas didn't use camo during their match. But Maine's positive that she was using something. How else could she have been so strong? How many armor modifications does she have?

Putting that question aside, Maine shrugs. ]

Never met designers.

[ Of their armor, he means. He'd certainly like to — it's fascinating to Maine — but it's all highly classified. ]

[He could talk about the Freelancers he knows of, even the ones he's met. Really, Wyoming's the only big deal. Maine wouldn't know, would he? About Wyoming's death(s). He was busy being the Meta at the time. It's a good thing Church has no face, or he'd probably have given away that he knows more than what he's saying with just a look.

Wash's job to explain the Meta thing, far as he's concerned.]

Yeah, well, if you ever do, you can tell 'em to pick a better color scheme. Purple and green, god. [Means North had the same as South's. Delta's words on the twins being something of an experiment unto themselves ring in his ear.] Next you'll be telling me someone was neon green and fuchsia, or gold and cyan.

[ Maine blinks. Those are … remarkably accurate guesses. Or maybe Church remembers something? He tilts his head slightly, looking curious as he answers: ]

One gold. One cyan.

[ Or whatever Carolina's armor color is called. ]

Like one that's gold and cyan or are we talking two different people in solid colors? Cuz solid colors, y'know, okay cool, that's fine. Tucker's aqua. Or. Teal? Or maybe that's cyan.

Two people. [ Then Maine makes a face and scratches his chin, thinking. ] Aqua, cyan…

[ He shrugs and waves a hand. Some color like that.

The scratching at his chin has reminded him: ]

Any extra razors?

[ With a gesture at the cottage in general. ]

...Oh! Actually. Hold that thought. [Church momentarily disappeared into his area, rummaging in his knapsack, and emerged a short time later with...a razor.] Came in my bag, and I don't exactly need one. If I start growing hair, I'm gonna have enough problems figuring out how the fuck I turned into a werewolf.

home sweet home? (closed)

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