[She comes down from near the line of rovers, line of her chin habitually high over the turned up collar of her Ajna issue jacket. After so many PT sessions, she should cut a familiar figure as she makes her way down to the outpost though as she draws closer it's pretty damn clear she's been more put together than she is right this second. There's something sharp in her expression, undercut by what is clearly a recent, dried but unfaded blood stain all over her jacket's left sleeve.
She should be mollified by Hinata leaping to his feet at the sight of her. Instead it cuts up under her ribs and hooks back into something raw and bloody and sensitive. Shepard draws to a halt, heavy boots scraping in the shale and sand.]
So what's the plan? If I let you off the hook, what exactly are you gonna do with those two extra hours?
Edited 2015-05-12 07:14 (UTC)
you're going to kill me and I hope I haunt you for all days after
[arms at his sides, wary eyes on her. the day had been full of emotion, declarations and promises; none from instructors, none from the CDC, invigorating all the same. even if Ciel, Guy and Parker matched up to Tess's disdainful prediction for who would be willing to listen, weighted words carried purpose. but there wasn't anything immediately to be done, and after ghosting around medical for nearly an hour, he had to get away. so why the change with the boot camp? a feeling of growing older? of not needing to be treated as a cadet? initially, yes. -- Shepard halted, spoke.]
[ah.]
[he'd rather the push ups.]
I... [a too-long pause, expression pinched. always had been better over text.] ... Hadn't planned that far.
[a beat. head turning down and to the side by a few scant centimeters, as if a new recruit looking for signs he was doing it right. not as nervous as usual - embarrassed, though, in a strained, uncomfortable way.]
[It's a small battle not the settle on her heels, to cross her arms over her chest. She wishes for her rifle, slung over her shoulder and a familiar weight at her hip, so she could tuck her hand at the strap: sway back against it like leverage off a line. Instead she forces her arms to stay loose at her sides. Forces herself to stay forward on the balls of her feet instead of collapsing back into that habitual, defensive line.
Patience isn't her forte, but that doesn't mean she doesn't sometimes consider it as a concept. So Shepard let's him talk, let's the sideways look of his hang between them for a second - and then she flicks her eyes away, shifting her weight to scan the camp as it's laid out between them and the beach.
And then she swings her attention back around, the line of her shoulders unconsciously crisp.]
[she barely moves from neck down, and that's preciously why he catches sight of the smudge at her cuff. something out of line, as curious as her being here, and he thinks he could bring it up and she'd leave and it'd be fine except no, that was a terrible idea, why had he even had that idea?]
[he'd yet to have a formal dressing down, but the dread on her words felt like it came close. it wiped away caution -- one little question, and he became irrationally irritated at himself and her, and, beyond that, tired.]
I know, I know. [head remaining slightly ducked, eyes off to the side, the rest of him doing its best to pull to attention without actually raising his shoulders.] To prepare for upcoming missions, to learn the skills necessary for survival and how being in a military environment works, I know, Ms. Shepard, I know. There's no-- there's not sick days on the field, those are called dead days. It's-- I--- I feel, I don't know, either I can't sleep or I sleep too much but I'm always tired and sometimes, it's the days where I can sleep, so I sleep a lot, and those days, it's- really, really hard to get up for things, you know?
[right?]
[... the last two words stick as barbed thorns in his mind, a belated why are you so worked up about this? sneaking in under. he realizes he's worked himself up into faster breathing at about the same time he realizes how much he rambled. mouth opens, apology poised, but for another too-long second, he freezes up.]
[She has a pretty good idea of what the statistics are - how things like combat fatigue look (this isn't that, not really) and what it's called when you find yourself on leave and there's too many kinds of microwaveable dinners. Because she's supposed to know how to recognize those things. Because avoiding the snap of indecision is part of her job. Because when you're the only person left on the ground when a shuttle comes down to extract your team from unexpectedly hostile territory, the Alliance does a pretty thorough job of making sure there isn't any 'lasting trauma' before sending you off to do it again.
If this were home, she'd write a letter recommending furlough. But if this were home, she wouldn't be talking to a child in the first place - and for a second that thought makes her briefly angry, briefly sharp, something like the taste of metal in her mouth in the moment before she swallows it down and smooths out the twitching line of irritation from the corner of her mouth. What the hell is she supposed to do with this here?]
You're half right. [There's no bite in that, no edge of a dressing down hiding at the fringe of the words. And she keeps talking because she doesn't need him to try and fill the space or doesn't want him to - can't miss the sharp intake of his breathing or how he seizes up.] Some of the cadets in the program - they're already pretty good at some things, right? Lan Fan knows what she's doing, but I still make her run and take all the same classes with the rest of you. It's not just about being combat ready. It's making sure you have people you know and trust. So when you come up short, you know there's someone else that can pick up the slack and you don't have to feel guilty or make excuses for it.
[she's frustrated. only a brief moment of it: can't identify its cause, a bit of him thinks (wishes) it wasn't him, but he's the only thing around trying to grab her attention and anyway, it made sense. hands shifted in front of him, weight restlessly shifted foot-to-foot, nails biting into the bone of his wrist and his,]
I'm sorry! I let my mouth r-- un...
[breaks into her you're half right. of course, his fades first. then there's nothing to do but listen.]
[... which doesn't turn out as bad as he thinks it will. a bit surreal, sure - letting his mouth run felt tantamount to signing his own death sentence; knew what he'd said wasn't anything too big but it was awfully personal and awfully lazy-sounding, and the combination kept him in a state of wanting to run until two seconds after she'd finished and he blinked and --- oh.]
... I'm sorry for that, too. [making excuses, except saying it would've been three times as damning. sometime in the conversation, he'd taken a step back. his tension, however, managed to ease with a shaky breath out. she wasn't angry? she would be if he didn't make an effort in listening before replying.] What you're talking about, it's... kind of like the units? Only with more like-minded people.
[rather, people given the same goal. get over yourself--- if he were to (he'd like to):]
And it's a trade. Or it should be. Covering each other's asses, sure, that's a great part of, um. A group. But. If a person starts getting special exemption, or takes too much without giving back... [still needed the training, still enjoyed the camaraderie, up-down dwindling interest in both and further yet,] bit useless, aren't they? If they don't have any drive to contribute, it's better for the whole team to cut the loss.
[not a matter of skill, for the first time in his stay within CDC. this was an older, deeper set conviction: if you couldn't muster up interest, why bother? it began with a stand-offish, bespectacled blond; he hadn't thought it'd turn to him, but that was part of the funny twists in life.]
[She makes a low noise, vague like a dismissive passing thought - flicks her eyes away and back.]
Look-- [Like a verbal punctuation mark or a knife punching through paper.] --If you want to quit, that's your decision. But we've got people who haven't been in the program as long as you and I wouldn't be surprised if we got more from the last drop after they see some action. You're fast and at this point you know what you're doing more than Tsuna or Iwaizumi. It's good to have a couple of people who get the general idea.
[Crisp and sharp; this isn't a consolation prize, it's just a fact - the same thing she'd told Garrus, the same thing she'd told Sturmhond. Separating the kids up or teaching one on one wasn't going to make them capable; teach a kid to shoot a gun and they might be a decent shot, but that didn't mean they knew how to pass that on. Better to shove them all on a group and hope for some kind of osmosis - things like Jasper chasing Hinata's mile time.]
[even with energy lacking, he supposed he had those things to give. thinking of Tsuna or Iwaizumi - extending it as far as Ciel -- he... saw what she meant. Tsuna had powers to fall back on, but he apparently needed pills every other step, which was time he couldn't always afford. Iwaizumi was--- worse but better, all calm and focus, but he had to be terrified, what person with emotions wouldn't be?]
[... Shepard spoke as if it were simple business, which made it all the easier to sink into. intentional, maybe - a bit of him realized that - but what it accumulated into could easily be called deep gratitude. focus shifted, weight moved, anxiety inch by inch lowered. not fully. enough for, after a pause of staring,]
Alright.
[I said I wouldn't--]
[--- in a fit of panic, which Shepard (given her being here) probably knew. he'd wait. it'd mean more.]
... Sorry for inconveniencing you. [but.] But thank you for coming out here, too, Miss Shepard.
[It's not an answer, not really, but it feels like something's been defused anyway - or at least that it isn't going to explode in her hands. She'll take it. Doesn't really have an alternative. Not on this front, anyway. So her response then is automatic, instinctual like a breath of air being let go:]
You're part of my crew.
[Less - or maybe exactly as much - possessive as it sounds. None of these people are hers, not in martial sense, but she's not talking about the Neheda's crew (more than half cannon fodder) or the constant cycle of teams. Her people, guarded with a wolfish single mindedness.
She shifts the gun at her hip then, the strap of it a weight that digs at her shoulder, and rocks back on her heels - a minute turn, clearly signaling she's about ready to cut loose from this.]
Anyway better this than just doing things because someone expects you to.
[he isn't sure how to respond to that-- relief wells under the continued embarrassment of making her come out here (except she'd chosen to, hadn't she? didn't know), and he tramps down both in an effort not to appear too one way or another. it puts an awkward, uncertainly happy look on his face, which he is by no means conscious of.]
[part of her crew. a... nice feeling. more than a bit intimidating. something he wanted to return to the best of his ability---]
[- she shifted away; he snapped to attention out of habit, arms ramrod straight at his sides.]
Yeah! [ech, too loud, too obviously nervous. toning down with a wince:] Er, yeah. I mean...
[wait no he didn't mean anything this was not the time for a counterpoint too late.]
... It's not always bad, having expectations. [missions gave focus. missions gave goals. better than the baseline keep surviving, which seemed about all there ever was to strive toward. that must've been why he was so tired all the time: there was no real reward in just surviving. -- anyway.] Take care, Miss Shepard. I'll see you again soon.
[it didn't have a direct acceptance, but whatever, there wasn't any energy to be nervous about yet another thing.]
[Limitations to everything, she thinks - a sentiment that in the end has very little to do with Hinata but sinks low in her gut like a stone anyway. Turned by a degree even as she is, she fixes him with a brief, assessing look. And then nods, crisp enough and sharp enough to count as a dismissal.]
If you have any problems, let me know.
[And that's that: she moves off with her shoulders leading back up the way she'd come down.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action!!!!
She should be mollified by Hinata leaping to his feet at the sight of her. Instead it cuts up under her ribs and hooks back into something raw and bloody and sensitive. Shepard draws to a halt, heavy boots scraping in the shale and sand.]
So what's the plan? If I let you off the hook, what exactly are you gonna do with those two extra hours?
you're going to kill me and I hope I haunt you for all days after
[ah.]
[he'd rather the push ups.]
I... [a too-long pause, expression pinched. always had been better over text.] ... Hadn't planned that far.
[a beat. head turning down and to the side by a few scant centimeters, as if a new recruit looking for signs he was doing it right. not as nervous as usual - embarrassed, though, in a strained, uncomfortable way.]
Which is fine. Since it's not happening.
pls no i'm really scared of ghosts..........
Patience isn't her forte, but that doesn't mean she doesn't sometimes consider it as a concept. So Shepard let's him talk, let's the sideways look of his hang between them for a second - and then she flicks her eyes away, shifting her weight to scan the camp as it's laid out between them and the beach.
And then she swings her attention back around, the line of her shoulders unconsciously crisp.]
You know what this program's for, right?
already half-way there it's your faaault
[he'd yet to have a formal dressing down, but the dread on her words felt like it came close. it wiped away caution -- one little question, and he became irrationally irritated at himself and her, and, beyond that, tired.]
I know, I know. [head remaining slightly ducked, eyes off to the side, the rest of him doing its best to pull to attention without actually raising his shoulders.] To prepare for upcoming missions, to learn the skills necessary for survival and how being in a military environment works, I know, Ms. Shepard, I know. There's no-- there's not sick days on the field, those are called dead days. It's-- I--- I feel, I don't know, either I can't sleep or I sleep too much but I'm always tired and sometimes, it's the days where I can sleep, so I sleep a lot, and those days, it's- really, really hard to get up for things, you know?
[right?]
[... the last two words stick as barbed thorns in his mind, a belated why are you so worked up about this? sneaking in under. he realizes he's worked himself up into faster breathing at about the same time he realizes how much he rambled. mouth opens, apology poised, but for another too-long second, he freezes up.]
n-noooo
If this were home, she'd write a letter recommending furlough. But if this were home, she wouldn't be talking to a child in the first place - and for a second that thought makes her briefly angry, briefly sharp, something like the taste of metal in her mouth in the moment before she swallows it down and smooths out the twitching line of irritation from the corner of her mouth. What the hell is she supposed to do with this here?]
You're half right. [There's no bite in that, no edge of a dressing down hiding at the fringe of the words. And she keeps talking because she doesn't need him to try and fill the space or doesn't want him to - can't miss the sharp intake of his breathing or how he seizes up.] Some of the cadets in the program - they're already pretty good at some things, right? Lan Fan knows what she's doing, but I still make her run and take all the same classes with the rest of you. It's not just about being combat ready. It's making sure you have people you know and trust. So when you come up short, you know there's someone else that can pick up the slack and you don't have to feel guilty or make excuses for it.
no subject
[she's frustrated. only a brief moment of it: can't identify its cause, a bit of him thinks (wishes) it wasn't him, but he's the only thing around trying to grab her attention and anyway, it made sense. hands shifted in front of him, weight restlessly shifted foot-to-foot, nails biting into the bone of his wrist and his,]
I'm sorry! I let my mouth r-- un...
[breaks into her you're half right. of course, his fades first. then there's nothing to do but listen.]
[... which doesn't turn out as bad as he thinks it will. a bit surreal, sure - letting his mouth run felt tantamount to signing his own death sentence; knew what he'd said wasn't anything too big but it was awfully personal and awfully lazy-sounding, and the combination kept him in a state of wanting to run until two seconds after she'd finished and he blinked and --- oh.]
... I'm sorry for that, too. [making excuses, except saying it would've been three times as damning. sometime in the conversation, he'd taken a step back. his tension, however, managed to ease with a shaky breath out. she wasn't angry? she would be if he didn't make an effort in listening before replying.] What you're talking about, it's... kind of like the units? Only with more like-minded people.
[rather, people given the same goal. get over yourself--- if he were to (he'd like to):]
And it's a trade. Or it should be. Covering each other's asses, sure, that's a great part of, um. A group. But. If a person starts getting special exemption, or takes too much without giving back... [still needed the training, still enjoyed the camaraderie, up-down dwindling interest in both and further yet,] bit useless, aren't they? If they don't have any drive to contribute, it's better for the whole team to cut the loss.
[not a matter of skill, for the first time in his stay within CDC. this was an older, deeper set conviction: if you couldn't muster up interest, why bother? it began with a stand-offish, bespectacled blond; he hadn't thought it'd turn to him, but that was part of the funny twists in life.]
no subject
Look-- [Like a verbal punctuation mark or a knife punching through paper.] --If you want to quit, that's your decision. But we've got people who haven't been in the program as long as you and I wouldn't be surprised if we got more from the last drop after they see some action. You're fast and at this point you know what you're doing more than Tsuna or Iwaizumi. It's good to have a couple of people who get the general idea.
[Crisp and sharp; this isn't a consolation prize, it's just a fact - the same thing she'd told Garrus, the same thing she'd told Sturmhond. Separating the kids up or teaching one on one wasn't going to make them capable; teach a kid to shoot a gun and they might be a decent shot, but that didn't mean they knew how to pass that on. Better to shove them all on a group and hope for some kind of osmosis - things like Jasper chasing Hinata's mile time.]
You don't have to decide right now.
no subject
[even with energy lacking, he supposed he had those things to give. thinking of Tsuna or Iwaizumi - extending it as far as Ciel -- he... saw what she meant. Tsuna had powers to fall back on, but he apparently needed pills every other step, which was time he couldn't always afford. Iwaizumi was--- worse but better, all calm and focus, but he had to be terrified, what person with emotions wouldn't be?]
[... Shepard spoke as if it were simple business, which made it all the easier to sink into. intentional, maybe - a bit of him realized that - but what it accumulated into could easily be called deep gratitude. focus shifted, weight moved, anxiety inch by inch lowered. not fully. enough for, after a pause of staring,]
Alright.
[I said I wouldn't--]
[--- in a fit of panic, which Shepard (given her being here) probably knew. he'd wait. it'd mean more.]
... Sorry for inconveniencing you. [but.] But thank you for coming out here, too, Miss Shepard.
no subject
You're part of my crew.
[Less - or maybe exactly as much - possessive as it sounds. None of these people are hers, not in martial sense, but she's not talking about the Neheda's crew (more than half cannon fodder) or the constant cycle of teams. Her people, guarded with a wolfish single mindedness.
She shifts the gun at her hip then, the strap of it a weight that digs at her shoulder, and rocks back on her heels - a minute turn, clearly signaling she's about ready to cut loose from this.]
Anyway better this than just doing things because someone expects you to.
no subject
[he isn't sure how to respond to that-- relief wells under the continued embarrassment of making her come out here (except she'd chosen to, hadn't she? didn't know), and he tramps down both in an effort not to appear too one way or another. it puts an awkward, uncertainly happy look on his face, which he is by no means conscious of.]
[part of her crew. a... nice feeling. more than a bit intimidating. something he wanted to return to the best of his ability---]
[- she shifted away; he snapped to attention out of habit, arms ramrod straight at his sides.]
Yeah! [ech, too loud, too obviously nervous. toning down with a wince:] Er, yeah. I mean...
[wait no he didn't mean anything this was not the time for a counterpoint too late.]
... It's not always bad, having expectations. [missions gave focus. missions gave goals. better than the baseline keep surviving, which seemed about all there ever was to strive toward. that must've been why he was so tired all the time: there was no real reward in just surviving. -- anyway.] Take care, Miss Shepard. I'll see you again soon.
[it didn't have a direct acceptance, but whatever, there wasn't any energy to be nervous about yet another thing.]
no subject
If you have any problems, let me know.
[And that's that: she moves off with her shoulders leading back up the way she'd come down.]
---> network.
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
If it's acceptable, I'd like to continue in the program, please.
no subject
Good. See you at PT
no subject
Yes maam