Summary:It's a tough talk between tough people but Dom hasn't lost just yet. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Another day, another encounter. Domino seems to be interested in getting Posse away from the RESCUE operation but she's never given any indication of why.
With the two back at Dom's 'middle ground' apartment she's already gotten some drinks situated between the two. The interior temperature isn't -quite- as stifling as the norm though she's wearing a few layers of something new and shiny enough that Posse could probably see her own reflection on the oily black surface.
As before the albino's already one shot of whiskey in with another cued up. She's looking pensive while sitting bolt upright. Her eyes shift back to Ava's human eye as a slow breath is claimed.
"There's some things we should talk about."
Here she hesitates, scrambling to find the right words.
"We haven't had a chance for a proper debrief after Ukraine. I was working another gig while we were there. Doubling up is something I've done before, things just..seem to work out for me. All I had to do was open two boxes, no further explanation was given. No one was supposed to get hurt. What happened was just as much of a surprise to me. It won't happen again."
*
Ava swirls her drink in her left hand, a small habit she's picked up since being put on downgraded cybernetics, perhaps to keep what manual dexterity she has left. The cyborg in contrast is puffy in her winter coat, unzipped to show another t-shirt beneath but not removed like her normal custom after getting indoors. Without her suit on, she's subtly smaller and more human, but also exposed to the same climate as Domino.
The drink stops and the tawny vet's lone eye finds the albino with an attentiveness that cuts through the lackadaisical glaze of a moment ago. "Hold that thought," she instructs with a haggard sigh before fishing her human hand into the folds of her coat and pulling out a pocket notebook. Ava flips it open and clicks a stubby little travel pen before spinning it between her fingers. The lone green eye lifts again, looking through the albino. "Okay, go on."
*
The albino waits without any sign of complaint, quietly watching Ava's every motion. If anything there might be some felt relief when all the cyborg presents is a pen and paper.
"When I stepped out to the bathroom I encountered a tech working on a broken pipe. He fell and knocked himself out. I took his key and a notebook and slipped into Warehouse Six where both of the objectives were. The first was by the door, sealed with an electronic lock which I had been given the code to. Inside was my contact, a shorter male by the name 'Gremlin.'"
She pauses if necessary to make sure that Ava gets everything written out.
"I followed him further into the warehouse to the second container which held the first powered suit which he claimed for himself. Then he used some manner of aerosol against the back wall and cut through the concrete into Warehouse Four, the crash which everyone heard, and proceeded to open another vault where the other two powered units emerged from."
"I had no prior knowledge of their intentions or of what these containers held. All I had been tasked with was opening the locks. As soon as their motives were made clear I attempted to rejoin your team and opened fire on them."
*
Ava's hand moves automatically while her eye remains on the albino, writing in a short-hand that's not immediately legible. Her mouth holds that same grim flatness that marks her resting expression half the time. Domino clearly has the impassive cyborg's full attention but whether that's a good or a bad thing remains to be seen.
The pen pauses as it completes its task, ready for the albino to continue.
*
This moment of silence is allowed to continue for a while longer before Domino seems to cave with another gentle sigh. "Conventional weapons proved inefficient so I did a quick search through Warehouse Six for something which might help level the playing field. I discovered a strange energy-based rifle which had enough charge to get off a shot. It did something to one of the rocket batteries but I didn't get a clear look at the results. Instead I ran back out into the hall attempting to help RESCUE allies and got caught up in the Screamer retaliation."
Again she hesitates, this time reaching for her second shot. The amber fluid disappears in one quick motion, swallowed with a slight grimace before the empty glass is set back down.
"And my name is Neena Thurman."
*
A salty white eyebrow raises only when Domino gives her real name and it's a few seconds after she finishes speaking before Posse's hand finishes writing again, reaching the bottom of its small page and adding a last scrawl on the next one.
A long, slow breath fills the cyborgs lungs and exits heavily out her nose. "Fucking spooks… you always make things complicated," she grumbles while taking her small water glass and knocking back a gulp. "Anything else?"
*
Despite the tension in the moment Ava's remark gathers a light smirk from the mercenary. "Other than the pressing feeling of having fucked you all over and my intention to set things straight, no. Anything else you either know already or isn't related to the op."
*
The pen twirls again as Ava thinks for only a moment. "Which suit was in warehouse six?"
*
It should be a simple question but Neena pauses and breaks off eye contact while trying to piece together exactly what happened that day. This soon leads to her slowly rubbing her forehead with a frown, and then a muttered four letter word under her breath.
Before anything else can be said she reaches for the bottle of whiskey and puts the cork back in, setting it aside.
"Dammit, my memory's scrambled. The armor wasn't in Six," she sighs. "To be honest I'm not even sure where they came from. Shit was getting real and I was anxious to get back to the team. I remember him saying 'I found it, father' and the second container had two words printed on it. Uh..'Titanovyyy Chelovek.' As soon as the last key was turned I bolted. Heard another crash then some weird grinding noise. Sounded like something was being ripped open, could feel it through the floor."
*
To that Ava does frown and jots another couple notes. "What's that in English, and where did the platoon of soldiers come from?" she asks, continuing the line of questioning.
*
"'Titanium Man' Neena translates before giving Ava's next question some consideration. It ends with one of her shiny black thumbs hooking back over her own shoulder. "From behind me. It's the only direction they could have come from."
*
"None of those suits had the capability to warp in that large of a force," the cyborg points out.
*
Domino slowly bobs her head in silent agreement. "Which means they had some other way to arrive."
Her picture perfect posture breaks, leaning forward with elbows on knees and hands folded together in front of her mouth. Deep albino thinking.
"I'm no expert in this stuff but the size of the last container, the ripping sound, the vibration in the floor and the sudden appearance of three armored suits and a bunch of ground pounders sure sounds like a portal to me. There had been a delay so something may have needed to be powered up."
Her hands come apart in a helpless gesture. "I've got no other explanation."
*
"And you let out the Gremlin that started all of it," Posse reminds evenly as she twirls her pen again then clicks it off. The cyborg takes another heavy, pensive breath, her bearing remaining firm and inexpressive while the lights of her left hands blink and glow with a rhythm all their own. "Why come clean? This doesn't exactly make you look good."
*
"Because a lot of people got hurt," Neena says in a level tone. "People who didn't deserve it. People who thought they could count on me to have their backs."
Seeking out Ava's one good eye again, she admits "I'm not used to working with good people."
*
"I gave your old contracts too much credit then," Ava admits as she closes her notebook and slides clips her pen to it before returning both to her coat pocket. "That's everything I'll need for an AAR," she concludes but without any impression of moving from her chair. The cyborg's eye returns with a weariness that isn't completely concealed. "So why'd you do it?"
*
"Do what, take the other job?" Neena asks while returning to a better posture. "Because that's what I do. That's been how I survive. It's hardly unusual to luck out and double up on gigs. Previously if anyone got hurt it was only those deserving of it. I didn't figure this run would cause so much complication."
*
"You pull my leg any harder it'll come off. I know we pay you more than that," Ava cautions as she reaches for her water again. Alcohol hasn't touched her lips again since the subject change. "I guess shooting skills don't stop you from being a damned idiot. What's your plan to "set things straight", and why the alias?"
*
"I've only worked one gig for you, Ava. I couldn't count on that being steady."
If being called a 'damned idiot' is as far as it goes then Neena's almost happy to let it slide.
"Coming clean to start. Staying on script going forward." But the alias? "The alias was because you told me you weren't looking for commitment. Things have changed a little since our first day at the range."
*
"You endangered our mission and our personnel for some extra cash. That was your last script, "Neena"," Posse rebuffs flatly as her eye flashes with disdain. "You've been in this business more than long enough to know how to avoid a head call during a half-hour ground window. I was ready to call you on that stunt even if your side-hustle had gone smoothly. How stupid do you think I am to let you try that again?"
*
Neena manages to keep her physical composure together but all is not well beneath the surface. "I know that you wouldn't give any second chances after what happened. Not for anyone else. But I'm hoping that you might give me a shot to make up for my fuck up. If making things right didn't matter to me then I wouldn't have reached out to you."
*
"Sure. You can transfer over the pay you got for that job. I'm missing PCB patrols right now and we can split the rest across the Overwatch squad to cover hazard pay and a little extra apology because we're apparently shit at picking contractors. Roni might say it belongs to the families of the dead Ukrainians you omitted, but dirty money's still money to me," Ava accepts as she leans back in her chair and rests both hands on the table. There's a distance in her eye that wasn't present before, even if the cyborg's tone is holding cordial. Neena might not be getting a happy ending from this one.
*
"The civvies weren't the objective" Neena starts to counter before letting the subject drop.
The look in the merc's eyes has nothing to do with the thought of losing out on all of that money. It's a loss which she can afford to take. Without hesitation she quietly stands and says in a soft voice "I'll take care of it."
Her phone is left nearby on a kitchen counter. Any emotions are clamped down firm, the side profile of the monochromed woman is perfectly stoic as she thumbs at the screen and works on transferring the money back to the account which it had come from. Including the bonus which Toni and Roni had been so dead-set on paying her.
*
"The dead Ukrainian /soldiers/ were allies in that op. Allied casualties count when they're saving our asses," Ava retorts. Her own bearing remains firm through sheer practice and will but a simmering anger threatens to breach the surface. The cyborg's hands are clenched halfway into fists. To occupy them the dusky vet folds one inside the other while she waits.
*
Not another word is said until the transfer goes through. Neena's return to her seat is done just as quietly, leaning forward to set her phone on the table between them both.
"I didn't know. I was told that we had no losses. That's the word I passed onto you."
It takes a while for her focus to return to Ava proper, going from the phone to the middle of the table to Ava's clenched hands then finally to her face. She's looking pretty tense as well though for much different reasons.
*
Slowly, through conscious effort, Ava pushes herself out of her debriefing stoicism as she studies the blue-eyed albino in all her stark colors and contrasts. On another day she probably would have complimented the sleek, glossy outfit.
Her mouth pulls to one side in a grimace. "Fucking hell. I mean really, what the shit?" she complains in a tone that's startlingly absent of heat or venom. It's frustrated, but also haggard - or disappointed? "Ya' look like a rabbit ready to bolt," Ava observes bluntly. "What? You expecting me to throw you through a wall or rip you a new asshole?"
*
A quick breath is released like a pressure seam giving way, Neena breaking eye contact again to rub at the peach fuzz along her left temple.
"I don't know, Ava. You tell me. I'm not used to having anything of worth at stake here. I've already had to redecorate a kitchen because Hank somehow -caught a wiff- of my guilt back on the plane and now someone that I've gotten pretty damn attached to is pissed as hell, it's not exactly the royal flush I'm used to getting. If anyone's deserving a free swing out of this then I'm looking right at her. I've been -shot- over a lot less."
*
"It /would/ make me feel better, but I'm supposed to behave these days. Out a' my hands," Posse admits with no small regret as she shakes her head. "You've told me but I still don't get it… I know you're not /that/ stupid. I expected excellence, you remember that word? "Excellence". You gave me a shit sandwich. What was even going through your head when you decided to double-up that mission? Was that fucking autopilot? Your brain turned off? Figured you'd give 110% to my op then slide in 50% for your side-hustle and skate on through because you're some hotshot with 160% to give?"
*
Mentioning 'excellence' causes the albino to look back down to the table for a moment.
Dom's voice returns to its earlier softer tone as her focus returns to Posse. "A million to one odds have a one in ten chance of happening. I'm not some gung-ho invincible powerhouse but I'm often at my best when facing shitty odds. Stress and adrenaline trigger better outcomes and..yeah, turning off my brain -does- factor into it. So, yes. If you wanted to try and put a number to it then a hundred and sixty percent is plausible."
"Ava…" she trails off with another heavy breath before slumping back into her seat. "You're the last person I would ever want to fuck over. I failed hardcore. I know it. I'm sorry."
*
"'Sorry' don't undo what happened. 'Sorry' is for rookies that cock up because they don't know better. You know better," the one-eyed cyborg critiques as her face burnishes with emotions that want to come out. Her gaze rests heavily on Domino, as if asking for a good excuse to come forth for redemption.
"But," she replies as her gaze lifts towards the ceiling and the water glass is snatched again for something to fidget with. "Mercs gotta' merc. It was my dumbass mistake for thinkin you'd be special after admittin ya line of work."
*
"Look, I damn well -know- sorry doesn't undo what happened. Nothing will. But I said it anyway and it's not something…forget it," she gives in with a dark mutter.
Posse's next remark is something which Dom has nothing to counter with. Mercs are in it for the action and the money and she's proven to be no different. Except…
"I could have taken the money and ran, Ava. Could have stabbed you in the back, ripped off your friends, thought nothing of it on my way out of the country, just like every other merc." She shows both of her hands, gloved but empty. "I'm still here. Take it as you want."
*
"Really?" Ava questions in even-toned skepticism. "I don't think you've got that kind a' heartless in ya. Maybe that's just my stupid optimism talkin that after the romps we had I thought I had a good judge of your character."
"Runnin like hell might be the smarter thing to do. Pretty sure if I wanted I could fill you and your lucky streak with enough lead you'd clank where you fell. Then again sounds like you only fessed up because Beast scared you shitless."
*
"My point exactly" Neena exhales. She isn't -that- heartless.
She's managed to keep herself level-headed through most of the conversation but this changes the instant Ava suggests that -Beast- is the only reason why she came clean. That Arctic blue stare leaps back to Ava, growling "-Bullshit-" in a much deeper tone.
An angry motion has her swiping the whiskey bottle and popping the cork. Rather than take the time to fill a shotglass she takes a drink right from the rim then sets it back down, a bit more firmly than necessary.
"You want to know why I waited to tell you? It's really simple. I didn't want to sucker-punch you while you were down. I respect you too much for that. Beast may be fiercely protective of you all but I don't give a flying fuck how much he threatens me, this was purely -my- decision to make and I would have made it regardless."
*
Ava actually cracks a smile at the brazen display and sips from her water before setting it back down. Her remaining hand meanwhile unclenches enough to drum its fingertips on the table. "Well that's good. I didn't /completely/ misjudge ya then…" The cyborg trails off, seeming to have expended her ammo on the albino's mistakes. Her gaze drops from Neena's face but doesn't quite make it to the table as the cycloptic vet finds a reflection of herself staring back from the mercenary's glossy suit. There's no left eye, just an eyepatch, and no stark white hair, just a skin-tight helmet with wires disappearing to the transmitter box behind her.
Ava huffs softly and shuts her eye.
*
"You really didn't" Neena replies with most..but not all..of the edge dulled from her words.
The silence is allowed to continue between the two as their roles effectively reverse, Ava looking downward and Dom keeping sentry. When the cyborg pushes out that breath the anger and tension within the albino evenly fades away. The silence continues as she gets out of her chair and steps away, not going far so much as giving Ava some space.
Back to the nearby counter the albino leans forward on elbows and momentarily hides her face in both hands, gliding upward to their final resting point along a ghostly forehead.
"I'm glad that you're doing better."
*
"It's progress but I'm a long march through rough terrain from where I was," Ava admits as she finally relents and reaches for her darker drink, daring for a sip. "It'll be a while before the egg-heads figure out how to put me back together. But still… ya didn't do anything to me time can't undo."
"I think Roni about had a heart attack when I told er I couldn't feel the left half of my body wakin up," the cyborg recollects with just a little humor.
*
Neena's hands dip to look back to Posse at the words 'didn't do anything to me time can't undo.' Soon following is a faint smirk and a chuckle to match as her focus returns to the empty countertop.
"You all share something which I hadn't seen before. Hell, I could barely recognize it until the flight back to Germany. I'm supposed to be the lucky one, but..I can't compete with that." Gently bobbing her head, "You're in good hands with that crew."
*
Ava is at first silent to that, thinking before she glances over to the black-clad albino. "How do ya mean?"
*
"Loyalty," Neena simply replies. "You can command people, coerce them, pay them, intimidate or torture them, but you can't -make- someone be loyal. I've seen it in a one on one before but never as a united crew."
*
The cyborg blinks and looks at Neena strangely. "You have worked with some blue-light special mercs then. I know teamwork's not foreign to all of them. That Hollywood lone-wolf Rambo shit is just on the big screen."
*
The idea of 'blue light special mercs' brings a humorless smirk to the albino.
"I've worked with some cutthroat back-stabbing murderous sons of bitches" Neena corrects. "At best all you can hope for is an understanding, some ..unsteady truce until the job is done. Maybe there's honor among thieves but as soon as there's weapons involved it all goes to hell. That 'lone-wolf Rambo shit' was what kept me alive. Everyone's an equal target. No surprises. It's the ones that get close to—."
Dom pinches her eyes closed and breathes for a count of three.
"It's a very different world. One of the rules which kept me going was to never get attached to anyone. That was easier to do when no one had any morals. Sorry to have dragged my bullshit into your world."
*
"Your fault for crossin the wire," Ava remarks with a more sympathetic gaze. "By 'lone-wolf Rambo shit' I mean 'how often did you get hired to be an army of one'? Convoy escort, overwatch, venue security, snatch-and-dash, assault, sabotage… Even snipers get a spotter, and then /they/ get a fireteam to watch their six."
There's a beat and the cyborg sips it over with the help of her whiskey. Her eye cools and is marked by a knowing glint when it finds Domino again. "You take the really dark-shit contracts don't you? Under-the-table hush-hush outside-a-warzone kind of stuff."
*
Domino doesn't need to answer the first question. Ava figures it out all on her own. Taking the opportunity to collect her thoughts both hands fall to the counter as she stands up straight, then back a little further to stretch before letting her head roll forward again.
"I do. That's what I was made for. Though it'd be a lie to say I haven't come to enjoy it. Been a good fit for my party trick."
Wandering back to Ava and her previous seat, she explains "Having someone else only complicates matters. Splits the pay, adds liability. You can never be certain what level they're running at. Could be some hardcore Marine who got booted for sassin' a CO. Could be some punk kid with a gun and a chip on their shoulder."
For the moment she stands behind her chair with hands placed upon the backrest. "The only screening process is who makes it for seconds and who fails to come home. I don't need that kind of drama."
*
Ava's snowy brow raises as she sets her drink back down and stretches her arm out to the side while rolling her neck away from it, prompting an audible *crack* from somewhere in her neck. The albino might have reminded her guest just how long she's been sitting. "So why not go PMC? Partner with guns who pass shooting quals and mission sims, and have a whole org with intel and gear at your back? You can't tell me knocking off some gang-banger in Chicago pays on the scale those suits hand out."
*
The crack brings another smirk to the albino, this time benefitting of some emotion. She knows that feeling all too well.
"Because I prefer to stay well off the radar. You don't make many friends out there and it's kind of hard to forget a face like mine. The pay gap is closed by doing the super dark high risk gigs where it doesn't matter if I'm the only one to make it out. No witnesses, no loose ends. Then all I have to worry about is getting fucked over by the people who hand out the contracts. It happens more often than you might think."
*
"When you're putting yourself that far off the books I'd think you're getting screwed four times in five," Ava contends sagely. "And 'paid' at muzzle velocity at least once. But you're leaning on your luck to make that safe enough to work, ain'tcha?" the cyborg guesses as her eye narrows slyly.
"Believe it or not PMCs can make for steady employment. It lets too many fat cats cook too many books to go out of style, and those guys are teams that know how to team. You ever want to graduate out of that lone wolf space, that's probably where you'll land. And really vampy - makeup? It ain't that hard…"
*
"Hmmh. Alright, maybe it happens as often as you think," Neena corrects her previous statement. "I've stared down my share of barrels. And yet…" her hands come away from the chair in a somewhat dramatic shrug. "You got it. I'm still here. You've seen the scars. The ones that print."
Another quiet nod follows as she walks around to reclaim her seat, this time reaching for a glass filled with water.
"I believe you. That's the kind of scene I could see you ending up in. You've still got that edge of military upbringing. All disciplined and stuff. You'd fit right in. PMCs tend to be a little less flexible when a combat strategy involves 'sure, let 'em shoot me.'"
Frowning slightly and glancing off to the side, Neena suggests "If I'm going to be working with a team I'd rather start somewhere else. Pissing contests amongst testosterone monkeys aren't my speed. However…"
"Life may have given me another ace here. Could be that I've reached a point where I need to be saved from something. Now..what do you suppose the odds are of me finding something like a group called 'RESCUE' while also having given myself a damn good reason to stick around?"
Dom quietly takes another drink before answering her own question: "One in nine hundred eighty-three thousand two hundred eleven. That's close enough to that one in a million mark for me."
*
Ava smiles bittersweet. "And yet you cocked it up…"
"Don't think I didn't consider going PMC myself but for a lot a reasons that ain't in the cards for me. You'll find me back at Bragg one day, Uncle Sam's just draggin his feet as usual." There's an unwavering confidence to the cyborg's words. Beyond even conviction, it comes out with the blandness of simple fact. And here, the tawny cyclops grins. "And what's wrong with pissing contests with testosterone monkeys? I'll have you know that's my favorite fucking past-time."
*
Domino actually points at the cyborg when she mentions having cocked it up. "That's exactly my reason to stick around."
Hearing that Ava -wants- to go back into the military doesn't seem to sit so well with the albino but it doesn't last. Ava sees to that by making her laugh! "Past-time, sure, but I don't want to have to constantly put up with it while trying to be a damn professional" she chuckles.
"What's waiting for you back at Bragg, anyway? Maybe you don't get to bust heads with RESCUE like you used to but you've got yourself one hell of a win with them. You can -trust- that group."
*
Ava smiles. It's an expression that just falls naturally onto her scarred face with a quiet happiness that's so rare it looks out of place with her dusky complexion. "You have no fucking idea," she reassures with a brush of amusement. "Givin' a hundred and ten percent off-the-cuff /on a dare/ just to show you they can hack anything you can throw at 'em, breachin a compound so smooth and clean all the targets are zip-cuffs before they're even awake, and puttin' so much brass downrange they pass quals with their off-hand just in case they need it. You get beer benders, rough as fuck combatives, and suicide checks, and the last time I heard a gang-banger open up on one boy's house off-base, he got a dozen in backup by pick-up infil that dumped two hundred rounds of fire superiority in reply."
"That's not 'trust' that's a fuckin family," the wounded cyborg replies with pride. "And it's excellence like you wouldn't believe."
*
Neena looks like she wasn't prepared for the sudden return of animation and positivity which seems to flood back into the cyborg. There isn't room to get a word in but she hesitates enough that there may not -be- any words to get in. So she leans back and listens, keeping any thoughts on the matter purely to herself until Ava's starting to wind down.
"And you don't get that with RESCUE." It's more of a statement than a question. "Not enough violence of action, not enough live fire exercises. Not the same level of excitement. No wonder we hit it off so well. So what happens if they come calling, would you walk away from what you already have? Honest question. I may find myself in a similar situation."
*
The cyborg's smile again slips to bittersweet. She's fond of RESCUE of course, that much isn't hard to tell, but she may have just admitted the stark gap between herself and the others.
"There'd be some suck to it, but of course I would. That's the whole reason I'm *in* RESCUE," Ava admits, though not as firmly or passionately. Raising her left arm, she shows the bare, blinking circuitry and woven false-muscle fibers that stretch and contract as she moves. "I'm DARPA-ware. Roni said she'd do her best to get me back to 100%. If the five-sided puzzle palace likes my hardware they field-test it. If they field-test it, I get back in the game. That was how we first met and at this point she's gotten me well past one hundred so it's only a matter of time."
"Sure it'd suck to leave 'em but… hell you saw that op. None of them know their ass from a muzzle brake and that's after we ran sims. They can fight, and the two docs are damned geniuses, but I'm out of my element running base security and they're out a theirs tackling power armor. Spec Ops is where I can kick the most asses that need to be kicked. They can replace me with some green beret and be just fine."
*
The pale lady goes back to seeming completely neutral while the news is delivered. It's hard to tell if any of this bothers her, no hints are given when she nods in understanding. "Temping until you get your transfer. I read ya. If we weren't comfortable making the hard calls then we'd have followed something else, right?"
Another nod follows. "Their hearts seem to be in the right places but they're dealing with some wicked stuff. As soon as something gets out of hand…" she motions back to Posse. "Ass from a muzzle brake."
"If ol' Sam happens to think you're too much for the ground pounders then maybe we can take another look at the private sector, but in the meantime we can be out of place together with these kids." It's a suggestion made with a thin smile.
*
"You can try lookin but I'm a lot less impressive these days *without* the DoD-locked hardware you see me sportin," Ava cautions. "I told you there were multiple reasons I didn't go PMC; mercs aside, I'm worth exactly one jack and half a shit when I can't run or sight with both eyes."
"But yeah," she relents, cracking something of a smile for the second time as she looks to the albino, daring to hope again despite their rough conversation. "I'm in no rush to quit RESCUE. I don't leave my squad behind - ever."
*
"Oh, right, because you couldn't take the fancy cyber gear with you" Neena 'remembers.' "I get it. Your hands are tied."
Seeing Ava smile again is pretty damn reassuring and the albino soon returns the emotion. "Good. You're the only one there who can keep my sorry ass in line."
*
"I'll drink to that," the cyborg agrees, and does just that. Wiping her mouth dry after a draught, she sighs in a way that's soothing and cathartic, shaking off a little more of the tension still lingering from their chat. "It's a damn shame you never went formal spec-ops. You and I could have done some serious shit together… and tuned your shoot game up a level."
*
Any excuse to ditch the water and switch back to beer is a good excuse for Thurman. She switches out and takes another drink.
"We probably still could," Dom suggests with a partial shrug. "I just can't work in any official military capacity. The training's still there, nevermind that I've turned my back on a lot of it."
*
"Kind of limits ya' when you don't have clearance," Ava remarks. "But if you can weasel into PCB we can go ham on some metas. Not the same as a good old-fashioned door-busting, but it's somethin."
"Maybe I'm a shit judge of character, but…" Here the cyborg again pauses and rests her chin on her knuckles, studying the albino hard before finally relenting with a roll of her eyes. "Fuck it, nobody died. I've still got to think about it but I won't take your head off for that op."
*
The suggestion gives Domino a moment's pause. If her expression is any indication she's finding the idea crazy, but..not impossible, which actually would put it within her wheelhouse.
Of much more importance is Ava reaching the conclusion that she's not going to tear into the mercenary after what happened. There's a visible easing of tension from her shoulders as another long breath is released without sound.
Her head dips forward and stays put for a few seconds before she offers "Then I'll see you back at HQ."
*
"Not a bad plan. I won't force you to go face-to-face with everyone on that op, but Roni at least might deserve the same explanation you gave me," Ava considers, grinning subtly as she notices the change in Domino's posture, even using only one eye. "Hard talk's over with. Let's forget about it the rest of the tonight."
*
"Yeah, that's a solid copy" Dom agrees before giving her beer some proper attention.
*