overjoyed_logs | [closed] various prompts

[The atmosphere of late-- it's filled with a kind of crackling tension that winds its way between his bones, detonates bright sparks in his blood. The whole Quad seems heavy with it, and whilst concern and worry and fear might be brewing among the general populous, for Unit 68 there's an unsteady giddiness to it all, a sense of something building, a badly healed wound waiting to be torn open. It's a time of activity, of flux, and for something like him such a thing can only mean the chance to get out and play more often, to play hard.

It doesn't seem like a bad thing.

Like now, for instance. Accompanying a weapons shipment (and there's something funny about that, isn't there? A weapon guarding weapons, hahah) isn't necessarily a high octave job, not compared with some of the other missions he's assigned to, but the opportunity for it is there, bubbling black beneath the surface, and he can hold out hope that things will get interesting. That he'll get to have some fun.

That the Handler assigned to him for this particular job has been held up is a cause of minor irritation (information gleaned through the conversation between Enforcers, none of them bothering to inform him directly-- why would they?), that they'll leave some pilot to mind him until they turn up, but it's not much of a dampener on his thrumming spirits. There's a sense of something in the air today, something looming, and he has a good feeling about how this job is going to go. Good, of course, depending on who's perspective one views it from.

The Enforcer calls for him by number and a quick, high whistle (the dog jokes, they never get old apparently), and he follows the sound with perfect obedience, back straight and face impassive despite the jittering activity inside his head. And then he catches sight of Steph. His mouth twists in a smile, but it's a detached kind of thing, devoid of visible recognition, his demeanour just as glacial as she expects it to be.

Once the Enforcer departs, however, there's a fractional loosening in him, something infinitesimally closer to informality setting in. His smile widens, although he makes no move to decrease the distance between them, uncanny red eyes flashing to the sword held in her hands.]

Fancy that, indeed.

[It's nice to get a smile, it makes her feel like she's doing something right with Giovanni, because she worries about him, even if she's sure he'd insist that kind of thing isn't necessary. But the way other people treat him doesn't sit well with her.

Speaking of...]

So, uh, Mr. Hotshot Enforcer gave me this thing. [The Bite, which she raises a little to indicate what she means, though the pointy end is directed away from Gio.] The fuck am I supposed to do with it?

[Best that she doesn't express it-- such sentiment would only confound him, make him question her judgement because the way the Enforcers had spoken about him, their views on what he is, it's how he sees himself. It's only right, to be expected. It's Steph's responses that are out of the ordinary, here.

Regardless, the smile remains a moment longer before dissipating like smoke on the air, and when she raises the sword he takes a small step back, almost unconscious, despite that nothing else in his demeanour speaks of alarm or concern. Instead, he raises a brow, expression coolly incredulous.]

He didn't explain it?

[She notices the way he steps back and instantly lowers the weapon; she'd drop it if she didn't think she'd get in trouble.]

Just to hold it for the Handler... [But she's quick, sometimes, and the pieces fall into place relatively easily once she'd clocked his reaction, along with the fact that it's something for the Handlers to carry.

The realization comes with cold anger curling in her chest.] They use this on you.

[It's not a question.]

[It's not a question, and so he chooses not to confirm or deny it, only to expand, give it context. He sees it in her, the distaste for it, and whilst he can't claim to like the idea of Dog Bite, he at least sees the need for it, knows the reasoning. Perhaps, with an explanation, she'll see that too.]

In emergencies. If things get out of hand.

[Not that he's ever 'got out of hand'. And yet, he knows what it's like, how it feels, the acute agony of it. Isn't eager for a repeat performance.]

[The only thing she sees is the words fuck the Company blaring loudly in her thoughts, but that's not something she can say out loud, not here, not around Giovanni.]

This is messed up. [It's all she can think to say that isn't too inflammatory.] Do they have a lot of them?

A fair number, I should think. As many as is needed. Mr Kendry has one, somewhere.

[Said as though that shared connection will make it somehow all right-- not that he's ever seen Rhys with it, wouldn't be at all surprised to discover he's misplaced it. But then he shrugs, flashes a another brief smile.]

You wouldn't want to be without it, if something should go wrong. Hahah.

Edited (no autocorrect, no...) 2017-02-02 16:33 (UTC)

[All that shared connection does is make her eyes narrow, anger and suspicion clear.]

Has he ever used it?

[Because there's shit she'll put up with Rhys, knowing that he was raised in a different world, but this is a line she doesn't want crossed.]

[Her feelings, the simmering anger in her, they're clearly apparent to him, and very slightly he tilts his head in an animal gesture of confusion. On some level he understands it, at least theoretically, knows that people can be soft and mistake foolishness for compassion, but there are other things he knows. Her rules of conduct; they don't apply to things like him.

But she's asking her question, and in response his smile turns wry.]

In truth, I've never seen him with it. I have a suspicion that he may have lost it.

Good.

[There's a force behind it that she meant to hide but can't, although part of her questions how selfish that relief is, if she's just glad she hasn't made a huge judgement mistake on befriending Rhys.

But she can tell this goes deeper than just a weapon, the way he instinctively flinched back makes her think of a whipped dog more than a person with a normal concern about someone being armed.]

C'mon, let's wait in the cockpit, you can sit with me.

[It's an invitation more than an order, but something tells Steph that Gio will follow without question when she heads into the ship.]

[A whipped dog. The analogy would have made him want to roll his eyes, smile his wry smile, and yet it's apt enough all the same. Just another factor of his conditioning-- once you've felt something like that, what it does to you, it's not easy to forget. It had been early on after they'd 'awoken' that they'd been given their very first taste of it, what that poison could do to things like them. Just a small cut, the blade barely hurt as it went in, but what came after-- he doesn't like to think of it. Pain is almost a matter of indifference for him these days, but the Dog Bite, that's still something.

He still remembers Unit 67's face when things went wrong, that day. How she'd looked when it had been plunged into her Spine. How she'd looked whilst she'd died.

Almost indiscernibly, he shakes his head.]

Yes, Ma'am.

[Because yes it had been worded softly, but he'll take it as an order all the same. Follow as unquestiningly as she'd anticipated.]

[As soon as she's inside the ship, she feels a little better, a little safer in this space she's carved out for herself. It's Company owned, technically, but she's the only pilot, and it feels more like home than her apartment. One day soon she'll be able to buy it for herself.

For now, though, she leads Gio to the cockpit, tossing the Dog Bite into her own chair as if she's disgusted to even be touching the thing (she is) and leaning against the console instead. Aside from during the actual process of flying, Steph doesn't sit like a normal person.]

While I'm around, no one's gonna use that shit on you, okay? Not me, not anyone else.

[It feels like a useless platitude, when there's so much time she can't be around to protect him, but it's all she can offer.]

[Giovanni follows her, remains standing as they enter the cockpit, something poised and alert in his posture, as though he doesn't quite know how to relax. Or doesn't think he should. He only watches as she tosses the Dog Bite down, isn't going to protest, and again there's the slight tilt of his head as she makes her pronouncement, an unnecessary promise that he isn't convinced she'd be able to keep. She's just a Company pilot, how she'd go about preventing it if someone needed to use the blade on him, he doesn't know.

(But there's something else there, the memory of her small reactions that day with Rhys stirring slightly in his mind. Something a little out of the ordinary about her.)

Again, there's the brief flicker of his smile, shoulders slicing at the air in a shrug.]

Oh, I don't know. If things were to get out of hand with me, if I couldn't stop, you might change your tune.

[He talks as though he's not in control of himself, some feral thing that can't be trusted, and it doesn't fit with the cool and controlled image she has of him. Sure, he got angry when Rhys spoke badly of Sui Feng, but he didn't Rhys' head off.]

Has that ever actually happened?

[It's how they've been taught to think of themselves, to view themselves. Something not quite domesticated, a little unstable. And to some extent, it's true. There have been instances among the Dogs, Unit 67 being one such case, and when Giovanni fights it can be with a savage brutality that might bring to mind something feral, something terribly inhuman, but that isn't what she's asking. Slowly, he shakes his head.]

I have a perfect track record, Ma'am. So there's no need for concern. I'm not going to bite. Hahah.

[Somehow his sense of humour doesn't come as a surprise, and even if she's still not in much of a good mood, that pun gets a quirk of a smile out of her.]

Then that thing seems pretty unnecessary to me. You don't bite me and I won't bite you.

[#kinkshaming]

That seems a fair exchange.

[And that's the way it works, most of the time. With most Handlers. It's only occasionally he'll get one who becomes a little too nervous, decides to use the Bite prematurely. Or the other type, the sadists, who just want to see what it'll do.

She's not a Handler, and she doesn't seem as though she'd fall into either of those categories, besides.]

[It still doesn't sit well with her, but she feels powerless to actually change anything, short of like, kidnapping Gio and taking him away from the Company.]

If anyone gets too eager to use it, you should let us know, me or Rhys. Between us I'm sure we can figure something out.

[Rhys can pull rank, and Steph can... well, she'll figure it out.]

[It's a response that has him frowning, just slightly. Unsure of what he's supposed to make of it. What she's trying to do, here.]

You don't need to be this way with me, you realise. I'm a Dog, Ma'am. Expensive equipment, that's all.

[Expensive equipment, he says, and everything suddenly makes sense, leaving her feeling a little sick.]

People can't be equipment it doesn't work like that.

[He shrugs then, smiles a brief, glacial smile with just the hint of teeth. His expression, it's one of infinite indifference.]

Dogs aren't people.

[Maybe that should be unsettling, but she's too angry to really register it.]

Am I gonna have to go buy a damn philosophy book to make a point?

[He doesn't know much about philosophy-- they'd received no formal education, after all, nothing beyond what was deemed necessary for them to adequately execute their role. A lot of what he knows has been gleaned from books that he technically isn't encouraged to look at, and as such it's limited to the things that interest him or which he's been able to get hold of.

Still. He has his own ideas about things. Or perhaps more accurately, the ideas that have been drummed into him by those who made him.]

Would you call that a person?

[And he motions with one pale hand towards the discarded blade.]

I'm really no different. Don't let appearances deceive you, now.

A knife doesn't have feelings.

[It's so obvious to her, but something tells her that simple facts aren't going to undo whatever the hell has been done to make him think like this. The Bite made her think of conditioning, negative responses, and she has to wonder if this is the same.

(She has to wonder how a pilot knows all this, but now isn't the time).]

[Feelings-- well, he certainly has them. But they're something strange and largely disconnected unless they're reduced down to the most basic parts, cold hard fear, animal joy. The rest are at something of a remove from him, nothing he can accurately name or identify. And if there's a big blank feeling at the centre of his chest, something that hurts sometimes, like an open wound, it's been there so long that, more often than not, he just takes it for a state of existence, there in everyone, perhaps.

Again, he shrugs.]

You're welcome to think what you like, I suppose. But it doesn't change anything.

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