networkinthenight | [text] @helsing; I've always liked to play with fire [open]

[The next time she comes back to her room at the Invincible, she'll find it's been swept of glass, the windows have been patched with tacked-up fabric, and there's a scowly-looking Soldier sitting on her bed.

It's been keeping an eye on her since it shot her, though hasn't approached. Just waved each time she caught it watching her. Her text message on the tablet, though. Couldn't let that stand. This is the Soldier's fault. It was even worse when it got to her room to wait and found the mess it was still in.

So rather than the bland, nearly-friendly expression it wore when amiably stalking her, now the expression is a scowl.]

[ Scarlett feels the difference in the room before she registers it visually. The lack of draft as she opens her door. The lack of moonlight filtering through the gauzy curtains. The unmistakable presence of another. She'd be worried if she weren't getting used to that presence, though usually, it was from afar.

The light cast by her lantern allows her to take in the changes as she sweeps along the outside wall of her room, her gaze finally settling on Tinman as he bores holes through her skull with his eyes. ]

Oh, please. Make yourself at home. [ Completely unfazed by that look as she gestures to the bed and moves towards the table, setting her lantern down. ]

Edited (what are words) 2019-09-28 06:01 (UTC)

[Oh, it already did. Because she obviously hasn't cared enough to even make sure she didn't step on any glass. What the fuck, Scarlett, seriously.]

Somebody has to. You didn't even clean up.

[It sounds... exasperated, almost. Actually kind of human.]

[ She lets out an equally exasperated huff and this would have been the point where she'd cross her arms and raise her eyebrows in challenge... only she can't so it sort of loses its impact when she only puts a fist on her hip. ]

Wasn't a priority. [ Lie.

Have you ever tried to clean up glass and tape up windows in the dark with a hole in your shoulder, while trying not to let anyone know that you're hurt or ask for help? ]

[Good thing the Soldier is good at cleaning up other people's messes, huh. And also being a great big fucking mother hen about people it's attached itself to.

Actually, Scarlett is probably not going to like that part.]

Your shoulder is infected. May I see it?

[Yes, it asks politely. No, it is probably not going to take no for an answer. (Yes, it will, because it isn't great at arguing, but its tone says it won't anyway.) Something about a scrappy kid refusing to admit they're hurt brings out all the emotion, apparently. (Wonder why that is. No idea. And don't try to tell me, I'm busy right now.)]

[ There's a flicker of something in her face, not surprise exactly? Something close to guilt before it's gone again. Scarlett trying to dismiss his concern with a scoff and a shake of her head... like she hadn't just asked about antibiotics. ]

I'm fine. [ Literally nobody believes that. ] It's just taking longer to heal than I'd like, alright.

[ Unfortunately for the Tinman, arguing comes naturally to her. As does being a stubborn idiot. ]

You're not fine. You asked for help.

[Yeah, see, the Soldier may not know her that well? But it understands that much, at least. There are just some people that refuse to ask for help unless there's no other option. Scarlett's pretty clearly one of them.

The scowl turns into something less fierce, something more uncertain, and the Soldier's gaze slips sideways, off her face (never quite meeting her eyes, this is still even less than that). It's asking less as a grumpy mother hen, now, and more as if it's actually worried and guilty, itself.]

Please.

I didn't ask for help.

[ She is far too quick with that response, all but confirming his suspicions and she seems to recognize that the second those words are out of her mouth.

Grumpy mother hen she could deal with, even if it was a foreign thing to her. The henning was easy enough to reject but the guilt she sees? ]

God dammit. [ Scarlett's gaze dropping away as she traces her nail over the arch of one eyebrow. ] You know what, fine.

[ She pushes back from the table, still not looking directly at him. It's notable that she's not in her usual gear. No formfitting long sleeves that hug her figure and make it harder for anything she's fighting to get a fistful. Instead, she's wearing a simple black and red flannel shirt over a looser fitting black t-shirt. Something to conceal the injury without aggravating it too much. ]

If you wanna see me naked that badly. [ A challenge in that as she now meets his gaze, almost like she thinks that's what will get him to back off. ]

[There's actually a little recoil at the suggestion, something like offended horror on its face for the half a second she actually does get to meet its eyes, before it shutters down to the more typical non-expression and looks pointedly at the floor. No, it does not care about seeing her naked, fucking hell.]

If it bothers you that much. Then I'll withdraw my. Request.

[It made a fucking request. That was hard enough, okay. It's not going to push that much.]

[ She feels another twinge of guilt at that recoil. More persistent than it was before but it's also easy for her to ignore. What was she supposed to do? Admit that he was right? That it was starting to get infected. That she was pretty sure she wasn't healing because her body was using what ability it had left just to fight that infection.

Showing him wasn't the problem, hell even if that did mean him seeing her half-naked. It was trying to get undressed enough to show him that Scarlett didn't like. She couldn't do that without him seeing how much she was struggling. That it was taking most of her energy just to play at everything being fine when all she wants to do is sink down on that bed and pray to some god she doesn't believe in that it will just go away. ]

Look - [ Her weight shifts from one foot to another, Scarlett struggling with how to cut off his concerns without being a complete asshole - something that didn't come easy to her because 'asshole' was her go to state of being. ]

I'm not going to drop dead of blood poisoning or anything. I'm not - I heal faster than regular people. It's just a bit red and angry. I wanted antibiotics to speed things up, okay?

[ None of it a lie, exactly, but certainly understating the situation. That was something of a given where she was concerned, though. ]

[The Soldier continues to stare at the floor. If she won't let it see its handiwork, then it will just have to deal. Maybe leave her the things it brought instead of offering to administer them, itself.]

I don't have antibiotics. Just decent bandages and something healthier than whiskey to clean it with.

[It should have done that, from the start. But everything had still felt sideways when it climbed out of her window, before, and its brain hadn't properly re-engaged until much later.]

[ Her mouth opens, closes, then presses into a thin line and it looks painful, to her pride at the very least, the way she's wrestling with what to say to that. ]

I - [ But she can't get the words past her lips, Scarlet's expression darkening as her mouth refuses to work. It must be nice for other people who can just, come out with whatever they need to say but she'd honestly rather be shot again than admit she can't do something.

Her cheeks puffing out as she forces out an exhale of breath. ]

You should save them for somebody who needs them because I - don't, so.

[That isn't an order. Somehow, despite her vehemence, Scarlett managed not to order the Soldier to leave and take its supply with it. So it could, logically, stay and insist on helping, because the Soldier is very good at reading people, and it's very obvious that she isn't fine and does need help.

The problem is, it's also very obvious that Scarlett doesn't want help. While it is very good at reading people, it also has some pretty big blind spots, and chalking that up to stupid pride doesn't occur to it. Instead, logically, the Soldier has to assume the problem is with the source of the offer. Which makes perfect sense, given that the source of the offer shot her and then insisted on her letting it remove the bullet. (Really. The Soldier insisted. What was it thinking.)

It's not great with choices, but after a long moment of staring blankly at nothing and wrestling with this one, it finally comes up with something that is only partially satisfying, but more satisfying than disregarding Scarlett's choices and making her more angry, and more satisfying than doing nothing. So with a nod, it reaches under the bed for the clean bandages, washcloths, and sliver of soap it brought, sets them on Scarlett's pillow, and says simply,]

I'll leave the supply, then, and you can have someone you trust help you.

[ She tenses at his reply, wincing in spite of herself as she forces her gaze away. ]

That's not - [ It should be, though - what it is. She shouldn't trust him, not because he shot her but because he was unpredictable. Because he's still watching her like that was a perfectly normal thing - and yet stupidly she suspected that for him? It was.

Why she would want to help him understand it wasn't about him, she had no damn clue.

Sighing in frustration, she gestures to the things he's retrieved for her. ]

By that logic, you might as well take it with you 'cause I don't trust anyone.

[The Soldier tilts its head at her with the tiniest of frowns.]

No one.

[Technically, the Soldier doesn't trust anyone, either, but that's different. It's not a person. It doesn't even trust itself.

That does put her reaction in a different light. If it's not because she has some other backup to support her... then why the fuck is she insisting she doesn't need help?

(I can get by on my own. / Thing is, you don't have to. What?) The Soldier knows that exchange, somehow. It comes connected to the thing its stupid last target said. The stupid last target. The Soldier shudders a bit, rubbing one eye with the palm of its flesh hand as a headache starts up, and says,]

You know I won't hurt you, now. It's been several twenty-four hours periods, and the memory malfunction hasn't happened again.

[ There's a slight shift in her features, the defensive set of her jaw and puffing up of her chest trying to mask her discomfort at those two words. Scarlett lifting her good shoulder in a dismissive shrug as she shifts her weight from one foot to another. ]

I trust people to be people, so yeah.

[ She's seen what people do to each other in times of strife. There's no sitting around the campfire singing Kumbaya. They don't all band together to survive. They lie and cheat and steal and the ones who won't? They end up dead. Scarlett has been on her own for so long she can't really remember any different and the few times she has had somebody else around? She was reminded that it can't last. ]

This has nothing to do with what happened. I can take care of myself, alright? [ Except that she can't and she's too damn stubborn to admit it. ]

[Except the Soldier's not a person. Does that mean it isn't going to act like people? It frowns a little again, and makes one more attempt.]

Even the Asset doesn't take care of itself. I have handlers and technicians. And I'm stronger than everyone else.

[Except the stupid former target. But he's not here.]

[ Scarlett lifts her hand to rub the heel of her palm over her eye. Dragging her fingers down her cheek as she struggles with how to explain this to somebody who doesn't think the way she does. He talks like he's out of a spy movie and he's still living that life, even here. ]

You - You're not an Asset. That was your life before Beacon.

[ But she doesn't get that he believes he still has his handlers here. People to give him orders. ]

And I'm willing to bet those people looked after you because they wanted something from you. [ People being people. ] I don't want anything from anyone and I don't want people wanting things from me.

[Dying didn't change what the Soldier is. And all the strangeness just keeps it clinging to what it knows, at least for now.

But that was its last attempt at changing her mind. Arguing isn't its strongest skill, at this point, and if she doesn't want anything from it, then it's not going to force anything on her. It nods, finally, and pushes up from the bed.]

If that's what you want, then, Scarlett.

[It's going to leave the supply anyway, though.]

[ There's this small part of her that wants to stop him. That wants to ask him to stay to look at her shoulder and fix her up. To let somebody else take care of her for a change. A part of her that wouldn't mind if he just, hung around for a while, to distract her from the pain and discomfort of her wound. ]

Look - [ What Scarlett wants and what she's willing to do, however?

She shakes her head, rubbing her hand along the back of her neck before gesturing vaguely towards the now boarded-up windows. ]

Thanks for - ya know. Saving me the trouble.

[That's a familiar motion. Someone else used to do that. The Soldier watches her for a moment, not sure if it wants to try and place that familiarity. Memory malfunctions seem to come with violence.

So it pointedly doesn't think about it. Instead it nods.]

You're welcome. It's getting cold, and the windows were my fault, too.

[Though now it can't climb out them to leave. That's almost funny.]

I'll have to use the door this time.

You get used to the cold. [ Dismissive of the concern.

It had been years since she'd slept in an actual bed every night. She could be living in a dilapidated shack with nothing but a mattress on the floor and it still would have been better than what she'd been doing the last few years. ]

Oh, do you actually knock on those or should I expect to find you here again in the future? [ Her voice lacking the hard edge that usually accompanied her barbs. ]

[She actually gets half a smile at that. It's amazing. Even if it looks a little bit sad, too.]

I do remember knocking.

[Now, anyway. It took a little while. Also, it's boring, and if you knock, someone might actually say you couldn't come in, and the Soldier can't exactly go against that kind of thing.]

Coming in the window is more fun, though.

Yeah well. I probably wouldn't have answered a knock anyway.

[ Letting himself in was probably the best approach where she was concerned and for all the sarcasm she'd directed his way? She's never actually asked him to leave. ]

Maybe you shouldn't have done such a good job of fixing them, then.

[ The sadness to that smile of his isn't lost on her, Scarlett running her fingers back through hair that honestly? Looks in need of a wash. Self-care is a lot easier to maintain without a hole in your shoulder. ]

You know you're not responsible for me now, right? I've done worse to myself without trying so - you don't owe me.

[The comment about the windows makes it start to feel better-- it did a good job with her windows; she didn't just thank the Soldier because it did work for her, she's saying it did a good job, that's a warm and pleasant feeling-- but then the last comment bomb ruins it. The Soldier stares at the level of her shoulder (to the side of her good one, so it doesn't look like it's staring at her wound), and the briefly pleased expression falls off into a slow blink that leaves the Soldier looking too much like a lost puppy for a guy who claims to just be a murder machine.

The Soldier finally says, in a very poor attempt to explain something it doesn't entirely understand either,]

If I'm not helping. I don't have any reason to be up here.

[The Soldier can't actually imagine anyone wanting it around for company. It's a weapon. Who wants a weapon just kind of hanging around? And it certainly doesn't have the words or, frankly, the emotional experience to convey how patching her up had been the most natural and non-terrifying interaction it's had since the last wipe.]

Action because duh

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