Difference between revisions of "Logs:Bullshit"

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Revision as of 23:31, 8 June 2019

Dramatis Personae

Ion, Ryan, Scramble


"{Maybe they'll surprise you. You go to training today and surprise them first.}"(Part of Prometheus TP. Followup to Ryan's recommendation.)


<NYC> Mendel Clinic - Lower East Side

With its sharp crystalline edges and sleek lines knifing up into the sky, this building is one of the most distinctive new additions to the neighborhood. An angular structure in glass and steel, the tall tower has a deceptively slender look to it that is belied by the heavy security as soon as you enter the doors. The front doors are frosted with the Clinic's logo -- a rising sun over a rod of Asclepius -- a motif echoed in many places throughout the building.

Visitors to the clinic must first pass through a small mantrap, guarded by some of the Clinic's security guards; once they make it through the metal detector and airlock's double doors they emerge into the much more hospitable lobby. With dark wood floors underneath and comfortable black and red couches at its edges, the high windows give the room an airy feel. A bank of elevators to one side carry visitors to the many destination floors, while the wide welcome desk at the other side is manned by a security guard ready to help point visitors in the right direction.

"You!" Ion's rumbling bass of a voice can be heard before he's actually seen, booming down the hallway and into Ryan's room shortly before the door is shoved open. There's a moment, crossing the threshhold of the power-dampened room, that Ion's bounding steps visibly stutter, hands twitchily clenching into fists that he forces to relax again right after. Dressed in grey slacks, a crisp pale blue button down, deeper blue tie striped in silver, polished Oxfords, today; he just looks kind of restless, kind of fidgety, when he goes to brace his hands on the rail at the foot of Ryan's bed. "{Man, I know you been knocked too damn hard on the head you want to explain what you thinking? All night /I've/ been trying to figure it out.}"

Ryan's breakfast has been set aside, barely touched except for a few small nibbles of his oatmeal and /all/ the juice gone. Instead of eating he has taken up his table with some variety of card game; he's looking none too fussed about the drubbing that his goblin army is taking. Even less fussed about it when Ion interrupts -- his brows lift, his eyes wider as he lowers his hand, his cards falling from his grip to scatter against the bedsheet. "{If I had a dollar for every time someone just turned up demanding I explain my dumbass life choices --}" This is kind of an /aside/ to his gaming partner, not really to Ion.

Scramble is sitting in a chair beside Ryan's bed -- kneeling, more like, long legs folded up under herself so she can more easily reach the side of Ryan's swiveling table where her own goblins are angling for supremacy with a definite tendency toward explosive devices. She's wearing a long, sleeveless dress in floral patterns of bold red and sunny yellow, trimmed at the hem with intricate gold lace to match strappy gold sandals. Putting down her own cards once Ryan drops his, she props her chin up in one hand. "{You'd have a lot of extra money,}" she replies evenly, "{and you'd probably make even more dumbass life decisions with it.}" She lifts her chin at Ion in greeting. "{This about your new role an' all?}"

Ion's hands work against the railing, squeezing hard, wringing, letting go. Wringing again. "{Fuck, man, I'm not you. I'm not him!}" This protest, sharper, to Scramble, his hand flinging out to indicate the man lying in bed. He drops his hand back to the railing after, weight leaning on it hard. "{I can't be you. This is some bullshit. You can't just -- that's a lot of lives.}"

"{I would make dumbass decisions in /such/ great style,}" Ryan tells Scramble. The grin that flashes across his face fades as he watches Ion's fidgeting. His own expression is calm, though his hands echo the other man's restlessness, twitching against the scattered cards on his bed. "{You aren't me, and I hope you don't try to be. All of you bring your /own/ shit that we need on the team.}" There's a pause, a deep furrow of his brows, before he continues. "{But this isn't an /order/. It is a lot of lives. I'm not going to say some bullshit like you're totally ready for this, because we never are. This sure as hell isn't a responsibility any of us should have. It's one you'll take serious as hell, though. Do whatever it takes to see to their lives if everything goes sideways. That, I do believe.}"

"{Please, like you don't already?}" Scramble scoffs. "{Like you ain't made dumbass decisions when you were flat /broke./}" But she sits up straighter in her seat now, turning more fully to face Ion. "{You ain't /either/ of them, but what's actually bullshit is making Jax lead both the teams. Which we /been/ fake-doing, and it keeps getting us fake-killed.}" She picks up a cup of coffee she'd left on Ryan's nightstand and takes a sip. "{A lot of that leading, they do before we ever set foot in the labs. That part -- all the planning and shit? -- Jax and Ryan can still help you with. The rest...}" She shrugs her skinny shoulders. "{That's fighting, and that's helping your team to fight, and you don't gotta use fancy tactical language to be good at /that/. I know you are already.}"

"{I can just say no, then? Tell you all to shove this dumbshit idea.}" The muscles in Ion's forearms have clenched into hard definition as he leans on the bed, but they're slowly relaxing now. He straightens, exhaling a long breath as Scramble speaks. Moves to flop down in a chair on the other side of Ryan's bed, one leg pulled up against his chest and the other foot propped against a rail of the bed. "{Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.}" His forehead thumps against his knee with each iteration of the word. "{Is way too much for the little hummingbird. Gotta order his own damn kid into all that... shit.}"

His hands scrub over his face, then drop away to wrap around his shin. He looks up -- at Scramble, first, then Ryan. "I ain't --" His hands tighten minutely against each other. Quieter, "I'm /not/ you. You think they gonna listen to me?"

Ryan nods to Scramble. "{I did give this some thought, believe it or not. A lot of planning goes into this before we have to make a single call in the field. Hive and the tech crew will be watching and helping you out information wise. You have support. We always have support.}"

A brief tightness crosses his face when Ion drops into English. His own Spanish has a deeper intensity. "{I really don't know, Marion. It's not an order for them either. It's a conversation. People are going to think all kinds of shit about you, and if they can't work with this, we do something else. But maybe they'll surprise you. You go to training today and surprise them first.}"