( 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. ]
( and even if quill believed that ballon could get it out, they'd been on the hunt for ingredients to do such a thing, she didn't believe that anyone else could do it. you needed specific things -- arn pheremones, a shapeshifter and a quill brain. nothing that was possible here )
Its claws are tipped with poison. On a good day it gives me a headache.
[ claws tipped with poison, like a cancer taken to an entirely different degree. ]
They got all sorts of shit here to get inside your head. Maybe there's a way here.
[ not that he can even pretend to understand anything of what it takes, or even how it'd gotten put into her head in the first place. but there's others stranded in the city much smarter than him that might be able to figure it out, even if there's no way they'd trust the people actually in charge to take care of it. ]
( even if quill could trust someone here to do that, certainly not the people that brought them here but some other surgeon she still didn't believe that it would work. she couldn't )
It knows my thoughts. ( it didn't just link her to someone but it was the link. the one detail she'd left out about the link -- it was telepathic ) I'd be dead before you cut into my head.
( quill sighs )
It's meant to be cruel. And permanent. They wanted slaves, to make examples. We were never going to be free.
[ jesus christ, he doesn't say though the recognition of the intensity of the circumstances is shown slightly in his expression, exasperated in her place.
of course, there's still his more natural way of approaching things. ]
What if this person β the one you're linked to β what if they die?
[ or, more accurately, what if frank could find a way to kill him? because if it came to that, he would. no hesitation. ]
If I didn't stop you the arn would kill me. ( failing to protect him-- one of the terms of her enslavement that had been set up. she had to protect him at all costs even if it meant that she died so he lived ) And trust me. There's nothing more that I'd like than for him to die.
( even those words cause a slight prickle in her head, not enough to really cause her pain because those sorts of murderous thoughts are ones that quill has very frequently. the arn reacts and she's used to it by now )
[ he falls quiet, not entirely surprised that he didn't come up with some solution for her predicament. if it could be that easy, she'd have come up with it by now and not be dealing with it still. quill was a smart enough woman to have dived into the possibilities of whatever he could manage to think up.
he doesn't expect she mentioned it with that expectation anyway.
his feet shuffle along the floor, stepping in a bit closer to her. ]
And what difference was this supposed to make in me wanting to protect you?
[ if anything, it's only made him more eager of it. ]
( he'd been that set on it to begin with that quill didn't expect anything to change with her story but at least he knew why she'd said some of the things that she had. why she was cautious, why she couldn't fight. even if quill was still keeping a big secret )
[ he doesn't think of himself as deserving of much of anything here, but there's appreciation for the sharing of it, the acknowledgement of that trust written in his eyes when he looks at her with a soft gaze. ]
Okay. [ he says, more in the word than what's blatantly spoken.
if it came down to it, he'd share some of his own baggage, if the timing was right. it didn't seem worth unloading now at this moment, even if he formulated enough of an understanding with her that he wouldn't mind her knowing it. ]
Then I'll still be there. If you need me. Even if I β even if I can't fix it. You can still use me for what I can.
( she had gone back to drinking, eyes flashing to him as he speaks, almost lightening the mood a little. as the glass comes down there's a small smirk. look, frank, you can't deny that's what you meant )
Yeah?
( he should also remember that it hadn't taken much for her to get amped up last time. but, unlike her usual demeanour, she tries for coy )
[ there's the obvious things of what'd he meant based on the context of their discussion; there's also the things he hadn't meant at all, but were just as fitting to be placed under the very umbrella of things he could be used for.
with the subtle rise of her smirk, his lips curve upward a little with that realization, an almost huff of a chuckle in his breath. ]
Hmm. [ he hums lightly, brows folding together as if considering the thought. ] Well, you know, this and that. Think I know how to do a thing or two with my hands. [ he brings his glass up, taking a long sip before lowering it, tongue giving a soft swipe to his lip, his voice quieter. ] My mouth.
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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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( and even if quill believed that ballon could get it out, they'd been on the hunt for ingredients to do such a thing, she didn't believe that anyone else could do it. you needed specific things -- arn pheremones, a shapeshifter and a quill brain. nothing that was possible here )
Its claws are tipped with poison. On a good day it gives me a headache.
( don't ask her about a bad day )
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They got all sorts of shit here to get inside your head. Maybe there's a way here.
[ not that he can even pretend to understand anything of what it takes, or even how it'd gotten put into her head in the first place. but there's others stranded in the city much smarter than him that might be able to figure it out, even if there's no way they'd trust the people actually in charge to take care of it. ]
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It knows my thoughts. ( it didn't just link her to someone but it was the link. the one detail she'd left out about the link -- it was telepathic ) I'd be dead before you cut into my head.
( quill sighs )
It's meant to be cruel. And permanent. They wanted slaves, to make examples. We were never going to be free.
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of course, there's still his more natural way of approaching things. ]
What if this person β the one you're linked to β what if they die?
[ or, more accurately, what if frank could find a way to kill him? because if it came to that, he would. no hesitation. ]
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( and quill says it very matter of fact )
If I didn't stop you the arn would kill me. ( failing to protect him-- one of the terms of her enslavement that had been set up. she had to protect him at all costs even if it meant that she died so he lived ) And trust me. There's nothing more that I'd like than for him to die.
( even those words cause a slight prickle in her head, not enough to really cause her pain because those sorts of murderous thoughts are ones that quill has very frequently. the arn reacts and she's used to it by now )
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he doesn't expect she mentioned it with that expectation anyway.
his feet shuffle along the floor, stepping in a bit closer to her. ]
And what difference was this supposed to make in me wanting to protect you?
[ if anything, it's only made him more eager of it. ]
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( he'd been that set on it to begin with that quill didn't expect anything to change with her story but at least he knew why she'd said some of the things that she had. why she was cautious, why she couldn't fight. even if quill was still keeping a big secret )
But-- you deserved to know why.
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Okay. [ he says, more in the word than what's blatantly spoken.
if it came down to it, he'd share some of his own baggage, if the timing was right. it didn't seem worth unloading now at this moment, even if he formulated enough of an understanding with her that he wouldn't mind her knowing it. ]
Then I'll still be there. If you need me. Even if I β even if I can't fix it. You can still use me for what I can.
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Yeah?
( he should also remember that it hadn't taken much for her to get amped up last time. but, unlike her usual demeanour, she tries for coy )
Like what?
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with the subtle rise of her smirk, his lips curve upward a little with that realization, an almost huff of a chuckle in his breath. ]
Hmm. [ he hums lightly, brows folding together as if considering the thought. ] Well, you know, this and that. Think I know how to do a thing or two with my hands. [ he brings his glass up, taking a long sip before lowering it, tongue giving a soft swipe to his lip, his voice quieter. ] My mouth.
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