[ She downs the entirety of her first glass in half a heartbeat before she pours herself another. It takes a moment for her to toe off her shoes and stretch out, shuffling down to tuck her feet in his lap just for that point of contact. It's not like she expects a foot rub. ]
Are they single? They might serve you better than the redhead.
Duty bound. [ He raises his glass in a mock toast, but she's a bit busy apparently downing all of hers and he watches this more or less how he watches everything else, at first - vaguely indifferently. He's not yet reasoned out whether it means he'll need to stagger his own drinking or not.
The sudden feet in his lap are somewhat amusing though. He doesn't particularly mind, but he doesn't really know what to do with them either, so at first he simply lifts his hands and rests one forearm over her ankles, lets the other use the armrest. ]
Don't you have files? Porthos and Aramis. I assume they are, they just got here. Their backgrounds were somewhat iffy on whether or not they were seeing anyone currently back wherever they came from. [ He considers her point for a moment or two though. ] Redhead probably has less baggage.
[ This might be why he's easier. No real expectations, no prejudices. Just...someone to talk to. He'd been like that even before he'd been Alpha. For once she's glad for Bifron's way of choosing things. It makes her own life a little less hectic to have someone she can just talk too...unless that was their aim.
A reliable and relatable leader- for a moment she goes stock still, eyes fixed on a random point in the ceiling. Was that what this was?
No. No it wasn't. Nothing about their interactions have that too sharp feeling of a memory rewritten. Not yet, at least.
Juliett goes languid again, propped up on cushions, and sips at her rum. ] Mmm. Maybe. She certainly won't be as into leather as your pirate.
[ At the moment Athos is willing to chalk up whatever odd habits about her mood or behaviour to her experiences this afternoon. He's just pleased when she seems to relax, even if he doesn't always consciously notice when she hasn't.
It's a little weird though, resting the arm holding his glass on her legs, so he switches it to the other hand and sips at it once more, letting the other arm just rest instead by itself across her legs. His thoughts at the moment are very different than her thoughts. She mentions the leather and he lets his head fall back onto the cushions. ] I think... he might actually have been wearing at least an entire calf. Possibly a young cow. I mean, I like leather as much as the next person, but - the entire outfit. [ He'd mention something about the sword too, but he's got one on his wall, so. ]
Mmmm....I can see the appeal. Tall, dusky, muscular, wrapped in leather, wearing a sword, speaking French?
[ She stretches and shivers, toes curling as a few joints pops from spine to shin. She's been knotted up for most of the day and meeting this Logan character hadn't helped much at all. At least she's managed to hook a new set of clients and ran into Stanley again.
Antonov, actually. He's a fun fellow. ]
Why don't you wear more leather? It'd look terribly good on you, little wolf.
[ There is a very petty 'I have a sword. And speak French. And I'm not short.' response that doesn't even really make it too much beyond his ego and into the superego before it gets quashed. She's right, he just wants to mitigate it somehow, but he doesn't say things like that. Not until after significantly more alcohol than this, and what point would he be making anyway? He has no idea.
So he sits still while she stretches, lets his palm rest on one ankle when she shivers, even though he offers little more just now beyond the weight and warmth from his hand. Give him a little time, those hands will get antsy. ]
I have a jacket. [ One. One leather jacket, suspiciously like the one from Third Star, in his icons because I said so. ] Are you saying I should get leather trousers as well?
[ It's better that he doesn't voice it. Aside from the initial offer before he'd become Alpha she truly has no real intention to ever take their association further than this. Bifrons watches their leaders too keenly. The last thing she ever wants to do is give them another bullet to put in her back. Camaraderie, loyalty, a little trust- that they can't use to hurt her.
Anything more? Even sex- with as much as she likes him? It wouldn't go well for either of them. Best to not.
That limitation does open up new avenues of conversation, though. That she doesn't have to worry as much about innuendo simply because it's expected of her. ]
With your ass and legs, darling? It's cruel to not.
[ He - even if he had said it - honestly wouldn't be trying to hit on her, he'd just be giving voice to any one of the myriad of thoughts that his mind has taken liberty to entertain today. Neither one of them is particularly in the right mind for it this evening, in as far as he can tell, although admittedly his own idea of 'the right mind' for that sort of thing is probably very different than her own. But she mentioned Romeo, she mentioned other people, and he doesn't really want to get between her and her demons or ghosts. Lord knows he wouldn't want anyone doing the same to him, even if his own ghost isn't nearly the same.
And then there's the idea of their positions, sex with a subordinate, and things have been distressing but not nearly enough to get into that whole business.
She, of course, brings flirtation into play regardless, and he knew it was coming but it hardly mitigates his natural knee-jerk response to it, which is a slight shifting in his seat and a small clearing of his throat. ] Legs maybe, but I don't know what else you're talking about. Leather -- it seems a bit like overkill. And hot, not in the - not like that, I just mean like, actually hot. You'd literally just stick to the inside of everything, trouser legs, thighs - it would very uncomfortable.
Yes, well. [ He smirks a little, watches her heels move for a few moments and then looks back over at her. ] Seriously? I wouldn't have figured leather pants for their 'comfort factor'. How do you know?
[ Oh right. He takes a slightly longer drink this time, because he feels both like it, and a little dumb. ] Busy lives you're leading there. [ Pause. ] How's all that working out?
[ For that he actually turns to look at her, because honestly. How is she bored with all of that. And the doppelganger shit on top of it too - well, clearly she wasn't bored today, but. Still. ]
Would you like me to find you some more responsibilities? You can have some of mine. Might give me some time to go out with the redhead. [ At some point he might make more headway on that one if he learned the girl's name, but. One step at a time. ]
[ for once she's not trying to be cruel about it. just this once. Carefully she sets her glass down and stretches enough to nudge him in the side with her toes. ]
[ He doesn't even know how he feels about that. Just. He's leaning forward still, elbows resting just above his knees, and staring at the drink he's just poured for a little while. Actually, no, he's going to drink that too, it wasn't that big, and he'll pour another one but this one he's just going to look at.
His posture is apologetic, despite this. He shouldn't be so transparent, not in front of her, in front of one of his callsigns, in front of anyone. He's Alpha. He's the face of too much to have such ridiculous problems as a probably-dead-ex-wife.
And he's fully aware he hasn't actually answered her yet - that his actions are probably an answer enough in and of itself, but still. He picks up his glass and sits back like he had been before. Mostly. If he looks a little more defeated then it's not really something he's up for fixing at the moment, Alpha be damned. ] I don't know. [ He sighs, because this reaction couldn't possibly be more theatrical anyway and he wasn't even trying. He's not theatrical by nature in the least. ] Do what you want. If she is alive, it would be better for us to know. [ Think of it strategically. Divide and progress. ] She's potentially too dangerous to leave otherwise.
[ he's quiet for so long she's kicked into damage control mode. Considering what this silence could mean and what the knotted up tension would need to break. What if the rewrite didn't take? What if he's shorted out somehow and d she had tho kill him? , she hopes that isn't it with every twisted up fiber of jet bring. She's come to like athos genuinely.
But no it's just uncertainty. Emotional exhaustion and that has her slumping against the sofa in silent relief, fingers going loose around the poisoned dart she'd pulled from her sleeve. Just idle, normal, human worries. That she understands.
Well no, she doesn't. But she's trained to handle it.]
I won't tell you if I have to kill her.
[ the closest thing to kindness she can manage at the moment. That and her sliding free from the sofa, silent and fluid, to stand next tho him. She hesitates before curing an awkward arm around his shoulders. ]
[ He's normally better than this, would have noticed her tension and either called his own form of attention to it or filed it away for later. Normally, he pays better attention to his callsigns. She has, however, managed to find what is probably his most sensitive topic, and poke it with a stick. He doesn't even think she meant to - if he had, then his response would have been altogether different - but it's the combined that that he wasn't expecting it, that she didn't act like it was some kind of joke, and that she followed it up like this, that all have his response being so...
Well. Whatever this is. He doesn't actually shrug out of the weird hug, not even a little even if he thinks probably it's what he should do. Actually, he leans into it a little, before he realizes himself and pulls away. ] You should. [ He drinks again, but at least it's not enough to finish this glass too. It's close, but. The gesture - all of the ones she's just made - are appreciated, and somehow he conveys that in his tone even while he turns their comfort down. ] I should know.
[ She should feel somewhat guilty for having the knee jerk reaction of needing to kill him for this odd behavior- and in truth? She does. There's nothing that can be done for that reaction other than to try to batten it down. It's just Athos. Having issues with something that is highly complicated and sitting in a position that she's been in before. Save the whole actually being married bit.
Maybe this is a little of what Romeo lived with? Maybe not. She'll never know.
What she does know is that with a few rare exceptions, she'll do what he asks, and do so gladly. If he truly wishes to know if she kills his wife for the safety of Sanctum? Then she will tell him in the most detached, clinical way possible if it ever comes to pass.
Her hand remains light on his shoulder, her cheek tucked against his hair for a moment longer before she pulls away. Normally when she finds these weak points it comes through careful study and a deliberate plan of attack.
[ It's probably telling of whatever odd friendship they have as much as whatever just serves to reinforce his own inadequacies about his position that allow him to act like this in front of her. He wouldn't do this in front of Foxtrot, or even Whiskey. He might shutter his expression - they might see that something was different - but he effectively just all but shut down for a few moments there. He shouldn't have done that.
But out of all the callsigns... He supposes that means that she is doing her job, and he wipes at his face - not because it's necessarily necessary, but just because the act itself is helpful. Her response might be laughable, if he were the sort of person to do that sort of thing, but as it is.
He just takes a deep breath and lets it back out. He's been Athos for a little while, but he needs to be Alpha for the moment. He was supposed to shed one title for the other but it's just too difficult to do it all the time, and occasionally he's caught too much by surprise at the wrong angle, apparently. The Immune don't tend to do this to him, but still. He needs to shape up. ]
It's not - [ god. ] If she's been alive this whole time, I need to know what she's been doing. It's not just morbid curiosity or self-flagellation.
[ His name, not his title, and that's something she's not supposed to do as a subordinate. Ever. But he's still young, still new to this for all that he remembers otherwise, and Anne's still a sore spot. There's no real way to explain what would happen if she actually found his wife.
None of it would be pleasant. It'd be better if she shot her as soon as she saw her. ]
You do not want to ask me to interrogate her. No matter what she was doing.
[ He knows her, to some degree. Knows how she works. Knows how she kills. What he may not know is how she cracks people open to pull out the secrets they'd die with otherwise. That's something precious few people have experienced and lived- and only after a rewipe. They'd been gibbering messes afterward.
If only she could forget as well. ]
I understand your reasons- but don't. Threats are to be eliminated. At least threats such as this.
[ The name is useful. It does make her the second person in the last twelve hours to use his actual name - which isn't actually his actual name but it's close enough - and he's not sure she actually wants to be in that group of people right now, but she continues
and
well, she's right. He was looking up at her, as the use of his name probably desired, but he looks away before his response is too obvious, blinks it away before he's too compromised, at least, because she's right. She's totally right, and he's not sure how to admit it at first. As much as he couldn't handle her being alive, he far more couldn't handle h-- well. What Juliett is saying, even without saying it. He hates it, but. ]
Don't tell me. Whatever you do with her. [ Would it be terr- yeah. It would. He's not even going to. ] Just... [ God. She's not even here and he has a hard time talking. This is a theoretical and he has a hard time talking around the lump in his throat. ] Don't tell me. Afterward, the aftermath, if it's important. I can't break.
[ She feels as though there should be something more that she could do for him. He's breaking quietly and that- that is her trick. That's her set of issues that she needs to tend to. Even before he'd been Alpha he'd been stable enough- at least going back through the three years worth of data she had on him. This is new. This isn't anything she knows how to predict- but she knows what she'd wanted when she'd felt like she was about to fall from a clip.
Juliett slides her other arm around his shoulders and pulls him in close, resting her cheek on top of his head. It's a tense, uneasy thing for a moment before she relaxes enough to soften and mold herself into the hard spaces left by his body. Makes a comfort of herself in a strange way that she's not at all comfortable with or suited to- but he needs this. Athos, not Alpha, needs this from her. And as she's ripped these stitches open the least she can do is be the one to sew them closed. ]
You won't. You aren't. And if you do? I'll send you my slinky little Redhead to kiss you better.
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[ She downs the entirety of her first glass in half a heartbeat before she pours herself another. It takes a moment for her to toe off her shoes and stretch out, shuffling down to tuck her feet in his lap just for that point of contact. It's not like she expects a foot rub. ]
Are they single? They might serve you better than the redhead.
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The sudden feet in his lap are somewhat amusing though. He doesn't particularly mind, but he doesn't really know what to do with them either, so at first he simply lifts his hands and rests one forearm over her ankles, lets the other use the armrest. ]
Don't you have files? Porthos and Aramis. I assume they are, they just got here. Their backgrounds were somewhat iffy on whether or not they were seeing anyone currently back wherever they came from. [ He considers her point for a moment or two though. ] Redhead probably has less baggage.
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A reliable and relatable leader- for a moment she goes stock still, eyes fixed on a random point in the ceiling. Was that what this was?
No. No it wasn't. Nothing about their interactions have that too sharp feeling of a memory rewritten. Not yet, at least.
Juliett goes languid again, propped up on cushions, and sips at her rum. ] Mmm. Maybe. She certainly won't be as into leather as your pirate.
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It's a little weird though, resting the arm holding his glass on her legs, so he switches it to the other hand and sips at it once more, letting the other arm just rest instead by itself across her legs. His thoughts at the moment are very different than her thoughts. She mentions the leather and he lets his head fall back onto the cushions. ] I think... he might actually have been wearing at least an entire calf. Possibly a young cow. I mean, I like leather as much as the next person, but - the entire outfit. [ He'd mention something about the sword too, but he's got one on his wall, so. ]
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[ She stretches and shivers, toes curling as a few joints pops from spine to shin. She's been knotted up for most of the day and meeting this Logan character hadn't helped much at all. At least she's managed to hook a new set of clients and ran into Stanley again.
Antonov, actually. He's a fun fellow. ]
Why don't you wear more leather? It'd look terribly good on you, little wolf.
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So he sits still while she stretches, lets his palm rest on one ankle when she shivers, even though he offers little more just now beyond the weight and warmth from his hand. Give him a little time, those hands will get antsy. ]
I have a jacket. [ One. One leather jacket, suspiciously like the one from Third Star, in his icons because I said so. ] Are you saying I should get leather trousers as well?
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Anything more? Even sex- with as much as she likes him? It wouldn't go well for either of them. Best to not.
That limitation does open up new avenues of conversation, though. That she doesn't have to worry as much about innuendo simply because it's expected of her. ]
With your ass and legs, darling? It's cruel to not.
[ Okay. Maybe a LITTLE flirting. ]
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And then there's the idea of their positions, sex with a subordinate, and things have been distressing but not nearly enough to get into that whole business.
She, of course, brings flirtation into play regardless, and he knew it was coming but it hardly mitigates his natural knee-jerk response to it, which is a slight shifting in his seat and a small clearing of his throat. ] Legs maybe, but I don't know what else you're talking about. Leather -- it seems a bit like overkill. And hot, not in the - not like that, I just mean like, actually hot. You'd literally just stick to the inside of everything, trouser legs, thighs - it would very uncomfortable.
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[ She snorts and rubs her heels against his leg, idly. ]
It'll feel better than these.
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Would you like me to find you some more responsibilities? You can have some of mine. Might give me some time to go out with the redhead. [ At some point he might make more headway on that one if he learned the girl's name, but. One step at a time. ]
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Or I could try to find Anne. That could be interesting.
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gonna pause for a second there and then casually
finish the rest of his drink, and then even more, sit up enough to grab the bottle and pour himself another. ]
She's dead. [ She has to be. ]
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[ for once she's not trying to be cruel about it. just this once. Carefully she sets her glass down and stretches enough to nudge him in the side with her toes. ]
I won't if you don't want me to.
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His posture is apologetic, despite this. He shouldn't be so transparent, not in front of her, in front of one of his callsigns, in front of anyone. He's Alpha. He's the face of too much to have such ridiculous problems as a probably-dead-ex-wife.
And he's fully aware he hasn't actually answered her yet - that his actions are probably an answer enough in and of itself, but still. He picks up his glass and sits back like he had been before. Mostly. If he looks a little more defeated then it's not really something he's up for fixing at the moment, Alpha be damned. ] I don't know. [ He sighs, because this reaction couldn't possibly be more theatrical anyway and he wasn't even trying. He's not theatrical by nature in the least. ] Do what you want. If she is alive, it would be better for us to know. [ Think of it strategically. Divide and progress. ] She's potentially too dangerous to leave otherwise.
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But no it's just uncertainty. Emotional exhaustion and that has her slumping against the sofa in silent relief, fingers going loose around the poisoned dart she'd pulled from her sleeve. Just idle, normal, human worries. That she understands.
Well no, she doesn't. But she's trained to handle it.]
I won't tell you if I have to kill her.
[ the closest thing to kindness she can manage at the moment. That and her sliding free from the sofa, silent and fluid, to stand next tho him. She hesitates before curing an awkward arm around his shoulders. ]
Alright?
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Well. Whatever this is. He doesn't actually shrug out of the weird hug, not even a little even if he thinks probably it's what he should do. Actually, he leans into it a little, before he realizes himself and pulls away. ] You should. [ He drinks again, but at least it's not enough to finish this glass too. It's close, but. The gesture - all of the ones she's just made - are appreciated, and somehow he conveys that in his tone even while he turns their comfort down. ] I should know.
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Maybe this is a little of what Romeo lived with? Maybe not. She'll never know.
What she does know is that with a few rare exceptions, she'll do what he asks, and do so gladly. If he truly wishes to know if she kills his wife for the safety of Sanctum? Then she will tell him in the most detached, clinical way possible if it ever comes to pass.
Her hand remains light on his shoulder, her cheek tucked against his hair for a moment longer before she pulls away. Normally when she finds these weak points it comes through careful study and a deliberate plan of attack.
Not like this. ]
As you wish.
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But out of all the callsigns... He supposes that means that she is doing her job, and he wipes at his face - not because it's necessarily necessary, but just because the act itself is helpful. Her response might be laughable, if he were the sort of person to do that sort of thing, but as it is.
He just takes a deep breath and lets it back out. He's been Athos for a little while, but he needs to be Alpha for the moment. He was supposed to shed one title for the other but it's just too difficult to do it all the time, and occasionally he's caught too much by surprise at the wrong angle, apparently. The Immune don't tend to do this to him, but still. He needs to shape up. ]
It's not - [ god. ] If she's been alive this whole time, I need to know what she's been doing. It's not just morbid curiosity or self-flagellation.
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[ His name, not his title, and that's something she's not supposed to do as a subordinate. Ever. But he's still young, still new to this for all that he remembers otherwise, and Anne's still a sore spot. There's no real way to explain what would happen if she actually found his wife.
None of it would be pleasant. It'd be better if she shot her as soon as she saw her. ]
You do not want to ask me to interrogate her. No matter what she was doing.
[ He knows her, to some degree. Knows how she works. Knows how she kills. What he may not know is how she cracks people open to pull out the secrets they'd die with otherwise. That's something precious few people have experienced and lived- and only after a rewipe. They'd been gibbering messes afterward.
If only she could forget as well. ]
I understand your reasons- but don't. Threats are to be eliminated. At least threats such as this.
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and
well, she's right. He was looking up at her, as the use of his name probably desired, but he looks away before his response is too obvious, blinks it away before he's too compromised, at least, because she's right. She's totally right, and he's not sure how to admit it at first. As much as he couldn't handle her being alive, he far more couldn't handle h-- well. What Juliett is saying, even without saying it. He hates it, but. ]
Don't tell me. Whatever you do with her. [ Would it be terr- yeah. It would. He's not even going to. ] Just... [ God. She's not even here and he has a hard time talking. This is a theoretical and he has a hard time talking around the lump in his throat. ] Don't tell me. Afterward, the aftermath, if it's important. I can't break.
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[ She feels as though there should be something more that she could do for him. He's breaking quietly and that- that is her trick. That's her set of issues that she needs to tend to. Even before he'd been Alpha he'd been stable enough- at least going back through the three years worth of data she had on him. This is new. This isn't anything she knows how to predict- but she knows what she'd wanted when she'd felt like she was about to fall from a clip.
Juliett slides her other arm around his shoulders and pulls him in close, resting her cheek on top of his head. It's a tense, uneasy thing for a moment before she relaxes enough to soften and mold herself into the hard spaces left by his body. Makes a comfort of herself in a strange way that she's not at all comfortable with or suited to- but he needs this. Athos, not Alpha, needs this from her. And as she's ripped these stitches open the least she can do is be the one to sew them closed. ]
You won't. You aren't. And if you do? I'll send you my slinky little Redhead to kiss you better.
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oh i thought the reply to this had gone through before my laptop froze earlier oops
sawright
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