overjoyed_logs | [closed] various prompts

[That's a little more unsettling, but she swallows down the discomfort. This isn't about her.]

I'm just a pilot.

[Not a Handler, certainly not a master. Something tells her that he could have easily written her off as collateral damage if he'd wanted, especially after the Handler warned her to stay away.]

I wasn't about to go spoiling my perfect track record, now.

[But there's some truth in what she says-- he could have killed her, written her off just as she surmises, but he didn't. It's something he easily passes off as training and the desire to avoid a cut from the Bite, to have any small blemish against his name when among the Dogs he's well known for his control, for his willingness to be controlled.

But he hadn't wanted to kill her. A small kernel of truth that he chooses not to look at or examine to closely or even consciously acknowledge. But it's there in him, dimly, all the same.]

Besides. You may be a pilot, but you're still human, and I'm still a Dog. I'm still beneath you. There's no getting away from that.

Edited 2017-02-06 13:01 (UTC)

[Whether he wants to acknowledge those feelings or not, just the fact he has a perfect track record counts as a point in her favor, she feels. It means that he isn't just some mindless weapon to be tossed at the enemy, not if he can distinguish between friend and foe.

Although the rest of what he says makes her expression twist.]

You can call yourself what you want, but I'm never gonna look down on you.

[There's a moment of silence then, something complex and difficult written in the lines of his face, a quick pulse of frustration and exasperation and confused perplexity, the vague twitch of his free hand as it hangs by his side because her attitude is confounding to him, irritating. But there's also that feeling in him, the one he knows so well but has never really been able to understand, the open wound at the centre of his chest, something steadily bleeding. A strange kind of emptiness, and he doesn't know what to do with it, pushes it roughly to one side. Swallows it back.

Quietly, he looks down and away.]

You're welcome to do what you like, I suppose.

[It isn't much, but it's a start, and when she sighs it only sounds a little tired, a little sad. Giovanni is dangerous and maybe a little broken but she can't bring herself to see him as some kind of monster, not when he's been so thoroughly shaped by other peoples' hands.

In her ear, the AI tells her that Company vehicles are approaching, someone requesting that she meet them outside.]

Back up's here.

[Steph stands up, barely hesitating at the pain in her thigh, and reaches out to put a hand on Gio's shoulder; it's a telegraphed move, giving him a chance to pull away if he wants, but if he allows it, she's going to give his shoulder a little sympathetic squeeze before walking past him towards the exit.]

Let's go say hi.

[He sees it in her before it happens, her body-language clear and easy to read and as such there's no surprise in it when her hand finds his shoulder, squeezes gently, and there's nothing but a slight tensing of the muscles beneath his skin to indicate his mild discomfort. It's not something he's particularly accustomed to, that lightness of touch, any kind of bodily closeness that exists outside of violence, and there's a strange little rushing in him, something long-buried and distant. Again there's that empty feeling behind his ribs, raw almost, but then she's releasing him and the moment passes, a small nod to indicate his compliance.

He says nothing as he follows her out into the wastelands beyond the ship, the remnants of their earlier battle strewn about like macabre discarded toys, and he'll stand still and silent two paces behind her as the Company vehicles pull up, as the handful of reinforcements spill out into brightness of the badlands landscape.

There's a small collection of Enforcers and Intake facility staff, the motley assortment to be expected of a last minute recovery crew. And among them is a familiar face (to Giovanni, at least), one of the regular Handlers from the Kennel, someone who happened to be close enough to answer the call when it came through.

Giovanni's expression, once again, is a stoic and impassive thing.

The woman approaches Steph, glances briefly about at the carnage before giving her an amicable smile.

Jeez, what a mess. I hope our Dog didn't give you too much trouble. Lucky you had it with you though, right? and her eyes go briefly to Giovanni then, looking him over, a trace of amusement written on her face, and look at that, you dressed it up? Cute.

When her gaze returns to Steph, Giovanni subtly rolls his eyes.]

[Somewhat belatedly, she realizes that the state of her uniform make it clear she was at least somewhat involved in the scuffle, though it should be easy enough to make up a brief cover, maybe she stayed by the ship and a few of the Westies got past Gio while he was busy with their friends.

It's something to consider, when she isn't busy fighting down annoyance at the way this woman speaks about Gio, although at least it isn't quite as bad as the previous handler, now just a lifeless corpse less than a yard away.]

His uniform was bloodied, I like to keep my ship clean. [The use of his is purposeful, a tiny act of rebellion.] And yes, ma'am, I was lucky to have him, there was no trouble at all.

[The last thing she wants is to get Gio into any shit about his performance.]

[And the Handler does give Steph a subtle once over, though not quite so subtle as to be unnoticeable, her eyes moving back to Giovanni for a moment, as though considering whether Steph's injuries could possibly have been his doing. But if that is what she's thinking, it seems to be a thought that's quickly dismissed.

Well, that's fair, they do get terribly messy sometimes, when they get going. And I'm glad to hear it was no trouble. I worried for a moment there on learning a Company pilot was stranded alone with a Dog, but then they told me it was 68 and I knew you'd be all right. Nice and obedient that one, aren't you, 68? and briefly, her eyes go to him again.]

Yes, Ma'am.

[His voice is cool and clipped, indifferent.

Pity about Kevin, though. It was his first week on the job. she shrugs, seems to let it go surprisingly quickly, considering, We'll get that shipment loaded onto the vehicles and get you back to what passes for civilisation on this moon. Have someone take a look at your leg. You have Kevin's Dog Bite?]

[Steph bites her tongue so hard she tastes blood, trying to keep her cool with this woman is talking to Giovanni so condescendingly. There's nothing she can say that will change anything, and she has a feeling if she shows too much consideration for Gio, it will get them both in trouble, which is the last thing she wants.

So she bites her tongue, tastes blood, and keeps her expression neutral bordering on relieved.]

Thank you, ma'am. It's in the cockpit, I managed to retrieve it after he was shot, would you like me to get it for you?

[That's one of the last things she wants to do, but there isn't a whole lot of choice.]

[If you would. I'll do a brief check of the area then return to the vehicle, you can bring it over when you're ready, a quick smile, and she turns her attention back to Giovanni then, motions him forward with a subtle movement of her hand, heel, 68..

The Dog moves as bidden, and whilst he says nothing to either party his eyes move quickly to Steph and then away again, something there in his expression, some quiet form of communication. But it's a fleeting thing, and he's walking past her with smooth even movements, his face an unreadable mask. Follows his Handler away from her.]

[closed] various prompts

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