[Wash doesn't say anything and for once, Tucker's glad he doesn't have to hear whatever Important Wisdom he might have to offer. He moves to rest his forehead against Wash's shoulder - easier, more comfortable. His breath feels like it's half-stopped gasps when he thinks harder about what he would've wanted to tell Church.]
I just-- He-he was an idiot, Wash. Never knew the right thing to say, he was an asshole, and he hated us, I just... [he trails off, tries to get his breath and slumps against him. He's got to get a lid on this or he'll never shut up. He'll never live it down if the reds find out he was crying over Church.] Jackass. [But there's no malice or bite to it. Just hurt and weariness, a little wet around the edges.]
[ wash lets tucker move in against his shoulder, shifts his hand to cup the top of his spine. he listens to tucker, though, how hard it is for him to say all that he does.
he knows it doesn't come easy to him. ]
Yeah. [ its not much but it is what he can say, he’s listening, tucker. he’s here, which is more than he can say for epsilon or alpha.
guilt, too, in his stomach. he told alpha the risks about the emp, but wash still pulled it. ]
[He's quiet a few seconds more, letting the emotions drain out and onto Wash's shirt. Get it all out now so he doesn't have to think or talk about or deal with later.
And that really is what it comes down to: Wash is the one that's here. Not Church. Both the Churches made their choices, and now they all have to live with it.]
[He wouldn't have because Tucker wouldn't have let half that shit happen. He wouldn't have let Wash's Revelation get to Church as bad as it did, wouldn't have let him think about going into the Meta alone.
Tucker lets a little more of his weight shift onto Wash before he straightens, pulls away but keeps his head low, eyes down.]
[ wash lets tucker draw away, letting his hand fall to rest on tucker's shoulder for a moment before he lets go. they're still close, and he doesn't draw away from that.
he's still not sure what to say, but he has to try, right? ]
[Another minute to breathe. To let those emotions finally sink down before Tucker takes a slow inhale, then takes half a step away. Looks out over the railing again.]
Y'should probably go back to sleep.
[An admission: he won't be going back to sleep for a while.]
[ well - no, wash is up. as tucker said, he's got him spoiled, and it's not easy to admit but he sleeps easier with tucker nearby. he shrugs a little. ]
I might go read on the couch.
[ offering to give tucker space without actually offering. ]
[He thought for sure Wash had read everything they'd managed to bring up, but. Who knows, maybe he found a way to download more stuff with the shitty signal they have up here. Or maybe Kimball takes pity on him and sends new stuff.
Tucker takes another look out at the landscape beyond their buildings, the grass blowing with the breeze and the waters beyond it.
Then turns and comes back inside, his hand trailing down Wash's arm to linger on his hand.] Might join you.
Tucker lets out the breath he was holding and leans over to kiss the top of Wash's head, lingering for just a second, then moves around to take stock of this situation.
Yeah there... Really isn't a lot of room, but he'll make do with Wash. Shoves his arms up out of his way and climbs up on him, settling himself sort of half between Wash and the back of the couch, head where he's in the perfect spot to lay it on his shoulder. If he wanted to.
[ wash raises his arms up for tucker to settle himself down where he wants to, putting him half on wash and half against the couch. after tucker settles, wash rests his arms back down again, one curling around tucker's shoulders easily.
the question posed at wash gives him a moment's pause. books, scars? he assumes the deeper of the two, honestly. ]
From things getting thrown at my face, generally. [ he peers down at tucker. ] Locus did hit me in the face with a shotgun.
One of the actual times my squad saw fighting, I caught a blast to the face. It shattered my visor, sliced up a chunk of my nose. We were in atmo, at least, so it could have been a lot worse.
[ he wrinkles his nose a little when tucker runs his fingers along it, a reflex rather than a statement. ]
[Okay the nose wrinkle is cute. A little smirk quirks up at the corner of his lips and he pulls his hand away.]
Guess it could've been.
[Tucker takes a slow breath and thinks about that. There really is a lot they don't know much about each other. So. Maybe some quid pro quo? He shifts, resettles against him, the starburst scar against his side visible.]
[ wash lets tucker think for a moment, glancing over the text of the book kimball sent. it's another burgeoning chorus' writer's tale of love in wartime. there's a lot of those, it seems.
tucker's next statement has him looking down again, his eyebrows raising. ]
I-- [He thinks back. That whole time in the canyon, as weird as it was, is kind of a blur. He remembers huge chunks of it, but some of it... not so well. He isn't sure if that's because of time, the weird effects of the project, or Epsilon...]
I never figured that out. It was weird. [Gets his hand up to look at it.] Wyoming shot me through the hand once too.
[ he lets tucker gloss over 'never figuring it out'. if someone shot wash with a rocket, you can be darn sure he'd want to figure out who the fuck shot it. although again, first guess would be caboose. ]
[ it sounds... familiar to the scenarios they would run in the sim outposts, but wash doesn't say that. it's still very real to tucker. wash hums after a moment. ]
You know, I'm sure Kimball could send us supplies to get a message to him. Junior, I mean.
[One of the many (probable) scenarios, but. It was Tucker's son. And there's the hint that it may not have been quite as scripted as the rest of the simulation: Tex's genuine pause when considering whether or not to go along with it.
But-- Wash has Tucker sitting up, pushing up on Wash's chest to look up directly at him.]
You. You really think she could? Do we even get signal out here that far?
[Tucker watches him, trying to make sure it isn't the one time Wash decides to try making a joke. But no, he's- He's serious. Kimball might actually be able to help them with this.
He leans forward, resting his forehead against Wash's temple.] I gotta try. Before next Thursday.
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I just-- He-he was an idiot, Wash. Never knew the right thing to say, he was an asshole, and he hated us, I just... [he trails off, tries to get his breath and slumps against him. He's got to get a lid on this or he'll never shut up. He'll never live it down if the reds find out he was crying over Church.] Jackass. [But there's no malice or bite to it. Just hurt and weariness, a little wet around the edges.]
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he knows it doesn't come easy to him. ]
Yeah. [ its not much but it is what he can say, he’s listening, tucker. he’s here, which is more than he can say for epsilon or alpha.
guilt, too, in his stomach. he told alpha the risks about the emp, but wash still pulled it. ]
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And that really is what it comes down to: Wash is the one that's here. Not Church. Both the Churches made their choices, and now they all have to live with it.]
Would've carried him if he'd've let me.
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he doesn't think he means physically. ]
I know, Tucker.
[ he has the feeling if tucker had been around, he wouldn’t have ended up in prison. ]
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Tucker lets a little more of his weight shift onto Wash before he straightens, pulls away but keeps his head low, eyes down.]
Both gone. It's fuckin' bullshit.
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he's still not sure what to say, but he has to try, right? ]
It is.
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Y'should probably go back to sleep.
[An admission: he won't be going back to sleep for a while.]
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I might go read on the couch.
[ offering to give tucker space without actually offering. ]
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[He thought for sure Wash had read everything they'd managed to bring up, but. Who knows, maybe he found a way to download more stuff with the shitty signal they have up here. Or maybe Kimball takes pity on him and sends new stuff.
Tucker takes another look out at the landscape beyond their buildings, the grass blowing with the breeze and the waters beyond it.
Then turns and comes back inside, his hand trailing down Wash's arm to linger on his hand.] Might join you.
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when tucker trails his hand down to linger on his hand, though, wash looks up with a tired smile. ]
Plenty of room on the couch.
[ he... doesn't move to make said room, since that room is on him, clearly. ]
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Tucker lets out the breath he was holding and leans over to kiss the top of Wash's head, lingering for just a second, then moves around to take stock of this situation.
Yeah there... Really isn't a lot of room, but he'll make do with Wash. Shoves his arms up out of his way and climbs up on him, settling himself sort of half between Wash and the back of the couch, head where he's in the perfect spot to lay it on his shoulder. If he wanted to.
Which right now, he's interested in Wash's face.]
Where do you keep getting all these anyway?
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the question posed at wash gives him a moment's pause. books, scars? he assumes the deeper of the two, honestly. ]
From things getting thrown at my face, generally. [ he peers down at tucker. ] Locus did hit me in the face with a shotgun.
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What the hell, how'd I miss that?
[He was busy being stabbed himself, but whatever.] Seriously, what the fuck.
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[ the first when he was first 'caught' by locus, the second during their fight after he'd pissed locus off. ]
It's like me and cars. People just don't like my face.
[ there's a little joke in there... somewhere. he swears. ]
The scar on my nose is from before Freelancer.
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[But the mention of the nose, Tucker glances up to his face. Hesitates one finger over it, then carefully runs his finger along it.]
Before, huh? How'd that one happen then?
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[ he wrinkles his nose a little when tucker runs his fingers along it, a reflex rather than a statement. ]
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Guess it could've been.
[Tucker takes a slow breath and thinks about that. There really is a lot they don't know much about each other. So. Maybe some quid pro quo? He shifts, resettles against him, the starburst scar against his side visible.]
...I got hit with a rocket launcher.
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tucker's next statement has him looking down again, his eyebrows raising. ]
Okay, was Caboose holding it?
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I never figured that out. It was weird. [Gets his hand up to look at it.] Wyoming shot me through the hand once too.
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[ he lets tucker gloss over 'never figuring it out'. if someone shot wash with a rocket, you can be darn sure he'd want to figure out who the fuck shot it. although again, first guess would be caboose. ]
At least it was a hand and not your head.
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[Tucker lets his hand fall, sighs through his nose. He misses Junior. The only thing he doesn't like about hiding out here.]
Glad I got to kill him.
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[ it sounds... familiar to the scenarios they would run in the sim outposts, but wash doesn't say that. it's still very real to tucker. wash hums after a moment. ]
You know, I'm sure Kimball could send us supplies to get a message to him. Junior, I mean.
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But-- Wash has Tucker sitting up, pushing up on Wash's chest to look up directly at him.]
You. You really think she could? Do we even get signal out here that far?
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Well, she's the woman to ask. We get some signal out here - if it's possible, she'll make it happen.
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He leans forward, resting his forehead against Wash's temple.] I gotta try. Before next Thursday.
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