exsiliumlogs | [OPEN] we expected something

Entry tags:

[OPEN] we expected something

Date: various; post-zombie attack
Location: Various
Characters: Charlie Cutter and YOU
Summary: ~~Skullduggery~~ Charlie does his homework.
Warnings: None (as of yet, will edit if applicable)
Notes: Get yer pre-mutiny CR building opportunities here!

[CAFETERIA]
[Gathering supplies - food, medical kit - is all vital, but being well fortified isn't what's going to win them anything in the end. So more and more, Charlie can be found with his nose in his tablet reading and making notes, brow furrowed and mouth pinched into a thin line.

Reading, research, quoting lines back - all that he can do. But figuring out how to order his own words properly, anything to do with writing something respectable of his own? Less his forte. Oh, he's a good liar when he needs to be, but he's not stupid enough to think they'll slide through this with a little fast talk.

So he's hunched over a meager lunch from what's left of the cafeteria's stores in the wake of the zombie invasion, carefully making notations in hard copies of old speeches that he's found in the AI's database.

Christ, it's the sort of thing designed to produce a headache.]

[VR ROOMS]
[Charlie hasn't actually spent much time in the VR rooms, but they've got their advantages. Though he doesn't go so far as to bother with constructing anything complete, but rather spends some time tinkering up partial floor plans. It's something he'd usually prefer to have on paper, but resources are scarce and - if he'd being exceedingly honest - he's never been much of an artist.

He runs the builds late in the evening when someone's more likely to go off to one of the other compartments rather than take too close a look at what he's doing, but that doesn't necessarily mean his work always goes uninterrupted.]

(ooc: any format is a-okay and if neither option appeals to you, feel free to throw up something random and I can just tag in as is appropriate.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[No one's going to be happy about anything, that much he's almost certain of. So from here it's about minimizing the damage.

Christ, he likes this better when all they have to do is worry about how to cover their asses on the way out the door. He's very rarely the brains behind much of anything, and this isn't anything like the gigs he's used to running anyway.]

What I'm saying is we'll have to keep some paths open - keep the cafeteria and sections of housing accessible? Musical doors isn't a bad thought, though.

[Part of the problem when it's the two of them charting this course: they don't usually chart courses. Chloe hums out a low note under her breath, tilts her head to see if the map might make more sense at an angle.]

Toilets.

[Charlie taps a few keys which highlights a few points on the schematic.] Should be able to keep those free as well so long as housing's left alone. The only problem is that leaves us stuck in, well, wherever else.

['Us' being the people they've theoretically got in on this with them, naturally.]

Well if things go smoothly that won't matter all that much, right? [It's a genuine question. Whoever throws themselves into the heart of it along with them probably shouldn't be someone that's going to get itchy after a day or two of camping out.]

[Which is fair enough. Maybe he's just getting antsy - barricading himself in somewhere isn't really their usual M.O., is it? Sitting round, waiting for something to give, waiting for someone to catch them red handed. -No, not even waiting. Purposefully putting themselves in the position where people'll know what they're doing and why.

Charlie taps a few buttons and the schematic blinks away entirely.] No, you're right.

[The room goes remarkably dark after the display's shut off; Chloe's eyes strain for a moment or two to make sense of everything-- the dim light creeping from outside against his silhouette, the slope of his shoulders-- before she gives up. Decides the dark is more appropriate for the conversation she wants to have.

No expressions, no distractions.]

You don't have to go through with this, you know.

[There's light coming in from the hallway, but it just halos her head: catches in her hair and across her shoulder.]

Are you saying you don't want to do this?

[Those few beats that sit between his question and her answer are heavy enough to drown. Because beneath it all, the decision to stay-- to fight every last one of her instincts and urges-- doesn't come easy. Doesn't get any easier.

Christ, she'd rather run.]

--No.

So you think I'd rather let you run off and do this by yourself, then. [It's not a question. If A equals B and C equals A, then B equals C. He's shit at maths and even he knows that much.]

Don't. This isn't about me.

And it's not about me either! [He barks it, painfully loud and sharp in the dark. There's no excuse for it now - he's had plenty of sleep, a shower, a hot meal. When he goes on, his voice is low and growling and dangerous:] I told you. I'm in this. So don't you pretend that I'm not or that I'm just messing about. I'm serious; you want me out, then just bloody well say so. But until then I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.

Edited 2013-11-09 11:32 (UTC)

[Impossible to make out or not, the recoil is noticeable in how quiet she goes before that initial snap is returned with interest on her end. Before she's just as loud, shifting forward in the dark to bring her voice that much closer to his ears.] I don't want you out-- I asked you to stay! [And she should stop there-- let it all sink in-- tells herself that much, but there's not enough time for him to get a word in edgewise before she's hissing out the rest through gritted teeth.] You were the one that shut me down, in case you've forgotten.

[It's probably better that she get it out all at once because the moment Chloe gives him half the chance, Charlie jumps straight back in: volume and heat in his voice on par with her own.] I didn't shut you down. I let you make a fucking decision! That's not the same bloody thing.

Oh for god's sake, I wasn't asking about my own bloody opinion, was I? You knew exactly what you were doing when you shrugged me off and left me on my own!

Is that really what this is about? Because I didn't take a bloody nap with you? [He's knows that's not why, knows that's stupid and that it's a stupid, inflammatory question to even let past his teeth. But to hell with it.]

[There's a sharp noise let out from somewhere down in her throat at that, lip curling back despite the fact that he can't see it.] Oh piss off, Charlie. [He's more likely to feel the heat of her breath that catch the way she flicks her hands dismissively in his direction.]

[Which, for anyone keeping track, is the wrong thing to say entirely because it just makes him dig his heels in farther. Makes him want to pick.] I'm serious. What're you so cross about? Just say the damn thing and maybe I can do something about it, for Christ's sake!

[And that, the way he hones in on specifics, only makes her want to turn tail and head for the door that much more.] What am I so cross about? Did you forget the part where we were just fine before you started acting like I was shoving you out the god damn door?!

[Maybe it's willful ignorance on his part, but he can't actually pin down the moment she means. Just a series of misplaced words, the two of them picking at each other like carrion birds.

And he's never been anything but physical. Even in the mostly dark, the low light ebbing in from the hall, she can probably make out the way Charlie spreads his arms. Egging on for a fight - a proper one. For her to hit him. Something solid, more easily understood.] Yeah, we were fine. And then suddenly you're jumping down my throat for saying something you apparently didn't like. If you're not trying to boot me, then why've you been dodging me for two damn days?

Christ, Charlie, if I wanted you out, you'd be out on your ass already. [Standing there with his arms out like that means he's a prime target for the perpetually primed fuse that is her temper, but when Chloe moves in, she's not aiming to strike-- she's aiming to press by in order to reach the exit behind him. Screw this nonsense.]

[And if Chloe thinks it'll be that easy, she's wrong. Charlie reaches for her as she tries to brush by: hand catching and holding her upper arm. It's not gentle.] And you think I'm any different?!

[If he's hoping to keep a hold on her, it's for the best; She's not shy about tugging hard against his grip, shoulder rolling forward into the angle of his palm. When that fails, Chloe turns on him-- posture rigid, muscles locked-- tone as genuine as it is sharp.] I don't know what to think. [It's all uncharted territory, isn't it? Having a partner, playing the hero. Hard to shake the feeling the floor's about to drop out from under her heels at any second.]

[He catches her other shoulder as well, anchoring her there. It's purposeful, as genuine (and pointed) as her voice.] Then for Christ's sake, listen to what I'm telling you, yeah? I'm here, alright? And you and I are doing this and then someone else can take the bloody mantle when we've finished with it.

[Because they're sure as hell not especially suited for it - not in the long run; he's always been better with short cons.]

[The heaviness of his hand at her shoulder, the warmth of his grip. She'd rather not settle down into the logic of what he's saying or the comfort of callused fingers; it's not in her nature to let her temper die off without running its course.]

You mean after they lock us away for all this.

[He could say they'll do nothing of the sort, but brushing off what theoretically could be a legitimate concern isn't going to help matters - not here in the dark where they're apparently no longer pretending to not know better.]

They'd be idiots to do as much. [But he's not denying the possibility and maybe that counts for something.]

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