( she tried to control it. the one person forced into her life hated her already so she gave them reason to, making herself a cold bitch fuelled by her anger, letting everyone see that. no one would care if she didn't let them.
but here it hadn't worked. there were too many soldiers and quill had too much respect to push them away. others had gotten under her skin in a different way )
[ that isn't quite the response he expects, but even if he can resonate with some of her shared thoughts, he's still unwise to the rest of them. ]
ten minutes
[ only because he isn't in the main residence building anymore, residing in his own private loft a little ways off. but he knows the routes well enough that it won't necessarily take him long to get there. he'll first replace his sweats with a pair of jeans, only because the weather is still a little too chilled for the former, tossing on a shirt and his jacket before he takes off (also making sure that rosie's plenty comfortable on her own).
as promised it takes him about the span of those ten minutes before he's there, knocking tentatively at her door. ]
( quill pulls a cardigan on while she waits, making a drink, opting for alcohol over coffee before then getting a second glass out for him. she'd stocked some whiskey after their last encounter, pouring some into both glasses.
when quill opens the door she presses the glass to his hand before stepping back towards the kitchen to retrieve both her own glass and the bottle of whiskey )
[ there's no space for a greeting, just the casual slip of a glass between his fingers before he even has a chance to register what she's doing. he gives it a brief glance before his eyes gaze up to her, soon following her inside and shutting the door behind him. ]
Guess you really liked it. [ the whiskey, he means, since she seems to have stocked up on it since. ]
( considering that there were few earth foods that she enjoyed it was good when quill did find something she liked.
this also wasn't the only bottle she had. considering how much she hated grocery shopping she'd gotten more than one.
she's also, after taking a sizeable drink of the whiskey, going to jump right into it )
Why are you so insistent on keeping me protected?
( was it really just soldiers having the other's back? it had been so long since she'd felt something like it that she'd sort of forgotten what it was like )
[ he's taking a sip of his own drink when she poses the question, the weight of it not entirely stirring him, still tilting the glass in his hand with a casual ease.
but his shrug with a temporary silence is one that says more about frank than most anything, the partial gaze of a frown that showcases the familiarity of situations like this, of constantly finding himself in the presence of protecting someone, whether it's warranted or not. ]
It's just ... just what I do.
[ Which isn't so much of a lie, really. ]
There are people who don't deserve to get shit thrown at them. And there are those who do. Just want to make sure it's all aimed in the right place.
( it's a lot more than quill expects, the fact that he doesn't think that she deserves this. she doesn't think it, doesn't deserve the life that the rhodians had forced her into. but no one else ever recognises it.
she lets silence fall for a few seconds, a brief flicker in her expression at the weight of what he's saying, before-- )
Then you should know what you're protecting.
( what not who. she stands from where she'd been leaning on the counter, bringing both herself and the bottle closer to him, letting it sit on the counter by him )
I-- I lost my war. Ended up captured, left as a prisoner. When it was over-- the people that we'd been fighting have a very particular punishment. They put a creature in my brain called an arn making me a slave to their will.
[ he lingers where he stands with glass in hand, downcast eyes peering up to her as she begins to explain, willing to listen if she's comfortable to offer him more than she'd been vaguely stepping on before.
he doesn't know what war she's talking of, of who she'd fought for or who it was she was even fighting. but as she continues, there's a subtle raise of his brow, a soft confusion with the latter details. ]
What's ... what's that mean, an arn?
[ creature in her brain, that's not territory he's used to, aside from a metaphorical stance. ]
[ it isn't as if he doesn't believe her; he does. but it's not a description he'd know much about, knowing nothing in the ways of alternate lifeforms or anything of the sort.
still, he can grasps the basics of it all the same with what she supplies. ]
How do you get it out?
[ not that he doubts she'd have tried if it were something that easy. ]
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shoot
[ not that he thinks his opinions should really be sought out but. ]
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( because their control wanes at certain points. they were drugged at fort harmony, coerced generally anyway. how long before they had no will? )
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[ it's the blunt truth, no sugar coat. he's already seen it get plenty worse with time. ]
that's why i want to take care of it fast as i can
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[ not that it's supposed to be a real comfort, but if someone's gonna risk it all, might as well be him. ]
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if i fight back i'll die. that's why i can't.
( she'd vaguely mentioned as much to him before and now it's still vague )
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told you
i'll be fighting for you
you can trust me on that
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( because she'll feel shit. sending a soldier out when it should be her )
my life isn't worth that.
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[ he'd have died for plenty of the assholes he fought alongside when he was a proper soldier.
and for as little as he's known her, she's still a lot more than plenty of them combined. ]
besides i told you i ain't dying
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( the sex is but having so little choice and will. feeling trapped )
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[ though he's just as hypocritical about that point when talking about himself. ]
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it's alright to let people look out for you
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they shouldn't.
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[ he still feels it often, mostly; usually it ends with him being scolded plenty for it. ]
if i had it my way i'd make sure no one gave a damn about me
[ but stupid as it is, they do. ]
but you can't control that
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but here it hadn't worked. there were too many soldiers and quill had too much respect to push them away. others had gotten under her skin in a different way )
007-a. come over.
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ten minutes
[ only because he isn't in the main residence building anymore, residing in his own private loft a little ways off. but he knows the routes well enough that it won't necessarily take him long to get there. he'll first replace his sweats with a pair of jeans, only because the weather is still a little too chilled for the former, tossing on a shirt and his jacket before he takes off (also making sure that rosie's plenty comfortable on her own).
as promised it takes him about the span of those ten minutes before he's there, knocking tentatively at her door. ]
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when quill opens the door she presses the glass to his hand before stepping back towards the kitchen to retrieve both her own glass and the bottle of whiskey )
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Guess you really liked it. [ the whiskey, he means, since she seems to have stocked up on it since. ]
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( considering that there were few earth foods that she enjoyed it was good when quill did find something she liked.
this also wasn't the only bottle she had. considering how much she hated grocery shopping she'd gotten more than one.
she's also, after taking a sizeable drink of the whiskey, going to jump right into it )
Why are you so insistent on keeping me protected?
( was it really just soldiers having the other's back? it had been so long since she'd felt something like it that she'd sort of forgotten what it was like )
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but his shrug with a temporary silence is one that says more about frank than most anything, the partial gaze of a frown that showcases the familiarity of situations like this, of constantly finding himself in the presence of protecting someone, whether it's warranted or not. ]
It's just ... just what I do.
[ Which isn't so much of a lie, really. ]
There are people who don't deserve to get shit thrown at them. And there are those who do. Just want to make sure it's all aimed in the right place.
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she lets silence fall for a few seconds, a brief flicker in her expression at the weight of what he's saying, before-- )
Then you should know what you're protecting.
( what not who. she stands from where she'd been leaning on the counter, bringing both herself and the bottle closer to him, letting it sit on the counter by him )
I-- I lost my war. Ended up captured, left as a prisoner. When it was over-- the people that we'd been fighting have a very particular punishment. They put a creature in my brain called an arn making me a slave to their will.
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he doesn't know what war she's talking of, of who she'd fought for or who it was she was even fighting. but as she continues, there's a subtle raise of his brow, a soft confusion with the latter details. ]
What's ... what's that mean, an arn?
[ creature in her brain, that's not territory he's used to, aside from a metaphorical stance. ]
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( a permanent gun to her head, as she'd once said to charlie )
If I fail to protect them it will kill me. If I use a weapon other than my hands it will also kill me. The problem is that they're not here.
( which was perhaps her one freedom in this place even if it restricted her ability to fight )
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still, he can grasps the basics of it all the same with what she supplies. ]
How do you get it out?
[ not that he doubts she'd have tried if it were something that easy. ]
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