It may have been years now, but it still brings up shitty memories. It could've gone differently, Ohio knows. Somehow. Someone smarter and tougher could've changed things. Maybe if he hadn't run, maybe if he'd staid back a little longer and-
He can't afford to do this, not now, not with York here. Ohio shouldn't have even touched the topic, but it's also the thing they share. There is a horrible need to talk about it deep in Ohio's chest, currently tangled up with an equally horrible need to avoid thinking about the particulars.
At least talking about the troopers gets them further from the bone.
"They're... not the worst I've worked with," he says, diplomatically. "Saunders might've, but it wouldn't have been an accident. He's a little trigger happy. Lane prefers to look before he leaps, but tends to get stuck there."
A note of familiar exasperation has crept into Ohio's tone. It's not entirely unlike how he used to talk about Indiana. They're idiots. But they're his idiots.
"...Thanks for getting them back in one piece," he says. He takes another sip of his coffee before adding: "Optional mission objective."
"A sim trooper that can actually hit what he's aiming at?" Bullshit, Ohio. Bullshit. He's seen their records- hell he ran a few training sessions for recruits that ended up shuffled into the program and it's. Well.
They try.
By god do they try. It's ridiculous how much they try and don't make it but they try, bless their hearts.
Another slow sip of coffee, another easy breath as he props his elbows on the table, cheek resting against his hand. The old fidgeting's been hammered flat. Fidgeting makes noise. Noise means death. "I thought they were-"
You see Ohio- you wonder about the other two. "...I figured you had 'em for a reason. Didn't wanna leave them hanging."
"We're... working on that." Which is to say that Lane still can't be trusted with a grenade throw, but nobody's died. "We shoot things and scare people. It works if I do the heavy lifting and they don't talk."
Ohio, the cornerstone of the squad that had been him and Indiana and Alabama, eager and chatty and too much the class clown to ever be imposing. He's the one they have out here menacing scum and villainy. The busted face helps, probably.
He catches the little break where York has to pause and redirect that sentence. Ohio and the other two had always been inseparable, it's not a crazy thing to notice. It takes him a moment to decide whether or not to just take the out and pretend he didn't catch it. Maybe that would be easier.
But York may have been top ten, but he had treated them pretty well for someone high on the board. Maybe he really does give a shit.
It's better than any of the the other news he has, anyway.
"...They got out," he says, suddenly quiet. "Last I heard anything from them, they're safe."
He's glad, it's the best things could be. But there's still a pain in this worse than anything he endured today. He can keep it together, school his expression, but his eyes flick away from York at the last.
"...I'm in that weird bizarro universe where you're the badass and I'm the tragedy, aren't I?" It's a joke, a familiar one, an easy one without teeth or heat because...bumming around in his armor- that's pretty goddamn tragic, innit? He huffs a laugh at himself more than anything else and finishes his coffee, setting the mug down with a thick swallow.
Life's. Weird lately. But this is a good kinda weird. one he can get used to.
Especially if there are little gems like that to hold onto. That he's not alone. That there's coffee- and that he didn't fuck everyone over. Ohio offers that olive branch and he doesn't bother trying to hide his relief, shoulders slumping, head drooping into one hand. "Oh thank god."
they'd been good kids. People. Good people that wanted what they all wanted- to do something good. To help save humanity. And he'd never thought to spread the word.
"That's- that's good to hear, man." He's got no such news. The twins-
Yeah. He. Tries not to think about them. "I've got no tabs on anyone. Used to, but- yeah. Been drifting in the wind on my own for awhile."
Ohio makes a face at the joke, like a kid whose aunt just told him he's growing up to be so handsome. "Don't make me laugh, York," he says. "I don't do that anymore. Ruins the image."
...Which is carefully avoiding that York has called himself a tragedy. Given that he's lost Delta and (apparently) any of the luck that would've kept him off this boat, that's a joke that's probably not far off from truth.
Ohio is used to being a resident of fuckup town, but it's a little weird that York has come to visit dressed in full local flavor. York was one of the best of them, and that image of him still lives in Ohio's memory. Maybe they were all a mess in various ways and he can only see that now, but damn if it didn't seem like some of them had their shit together.
Then again, being better on the board hasn't seemed to matter anywhere else now that it's over.
"It's... usually worse circumstances than this when I run into anyone," he admits.
"Same." Though he's tried to not run into anyone until there was no one left to run into- or so he thought. Now there's suddenly Ohio and the other two off somewhere safe. Him here with two sim Troopers working for Control and...he should go. But he needs somewhere to stay just for a little longer.
Till he's gotten a chance to sleep properly. Till he's gotten something in him that's more than the barest dregs of a few cans he hadn't been able to sell. Till he's something close to human again. Then he'll...figure something out. Make his way like he's always managed to do. But this time it'll be alone and he's not sure how much longer he could possibly swing it. But for now it's only a few days. Maybe a week. Just till they get somewhere else.
Ohio's finished with his soup and his coffee. He gets up and takes his dishes with him. "Here's to the fucking good old days," he says as he dumps them in the sanitizer to worry about later.
He needs to go hassle the boys and be evidently alive at them. He can't hold back a weary exhale at the thought. That priority didn't go away just because someone came back from the dead.
"I need to go check my team. You need anything, ask Reti. Stay out of the hold and anywhere that'd make him nervous."
He's almost across the threshold when he realizes that maybe there's something else he should say, it's an impulse more than anything. He pauses, but doesn't turn.
"And York?" Ohio says, "Glad you're alive."
It's best to say something real as a parting shot without a backward glance. Too easy to dwell otherwise.
There's a bitter twist to Ohio's voice that every aching fiber of York? Echos. Even past the pasted thin smile and too casual slant of his shoulders, past the fact that he's never actually had either his bad eye or his back to Ohio at any point in the conversation. Whatever they'd been? Might be enough to keep him from being shot instantly.
But there are people out there that want him dead- or would if they knew he wasn't.
As much of a relief as it is to finally have somewhere to rest trusting it is...it's not going to happen. Even if it's mobile and secure. There's no one to bounce off his predictions anymore, every word echoing in the void; the empty nest of wires and code that used to house Delta. Empty rattling of hollow shells in an ammunition tin; no fire. No support.
All he's got is his gut and his gut gets him shot plenty.
"...Same." Is all he can offer in return because- it feels a little like an accusation. It can't possibly be sincere no matter how much he wants it to be. Still.
Coffee- another mug should be okay, right? Right. A shower. Scrubbing at the stubble on his jaw. Peeking into the hold anyway out of spite has it's appeal but he stifles the desire; sleep calling him. Or. Something close to it.
Tucked up in a corner, sidearm loaded and at hand, helmet on- he dozes. It's as good as it'll get for him.
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He can't afford to do this, not now, not with York here. Ohio shouldn't have even touched the topic, but it's also the thing they share. There is a horrible need to talk about it deep in Ohio's chest, currently tangled up with an equally horrible need to avoid thinking about the particulars.
At least talking about the troopers gets them further from the bone.
"They're... not the worst I've worked with," he says, diplomatically. "Saunders might've, but it wouldn't have been an accident. He's a little trigger happy. Lane prefers to look before he leaps, but tends to get stuck there."
A note of familiar exasperation has crept into Ohio's tone. It's not entirely unlike how he used to talk about Indiana. They're idiots. But they're his idiots.
"...Thanks for getting them back in one piece," he says. He takes another sip of his coffee before adding: "Optional mission objective."
no subject
They try.
By god do they try. It's ridiculous how much they try and don't make it but they try, bless their hearts.
Another slow sip of coffee, another easy breath as he props his elbows on the table, cheek resting against his hand. The old fidgeting's been hammered flat. Fidgeting makes noise. Noise means death. "I thought they were-"
You see Ohio- you wonder about the other two. "...I figured you had 'em for a reason. Didn't wanna leave them hanging."
no subject
Ohio, the cornerstone of the squad that had been him and Indiana and Alabama, eager and chatty and too much the class clown to ever be imposing. He's the one they have out here menacing scum and villainy. The busted face helps, probably.
He catches the little break where York has to pause and redirect that sentence. Ohio and the other two had always been inseparable, it's not a crazy thing to notice. It takes him a moment to decide whether or not to just take the out and pretend he didn't catch it. Maybe that would be easier.
But York may have been top ten, but he had treated them pretty well for someone high on the board. Maybe he really does give a shit.
It's better than any of the the other news he has, anyway.
"...They got out," he says, suddenly quiet. "Last I heard anything from them, they're safe."
He's glad, it's the best things could be. But there's still a pain in this worse than anything he endured today. He can keep it together, school his expression, but his eyes flick away from York at the last.
no subject
Life's. Weird lately. But this is a good kinda weird. one he can get used to.
Especially if there are little gems like that to hold onto. That he's not alone. That there's coffee- and that he didn't fuck everyone over. Ohio offers that olive branch and he doesn't bother trying to hide his relief, shoulders slumping, head drooping into one hand. "Oh thank god."
they'd been good kids. People. Good people that wanted what they all wanted- to do something good. To help save humanity. And he'd never thought to spread the word.
"That's- that's good to hear, man." He's got no such news. The twins-
Yeah. He. Tries not to think about them. "I've got no tabs on anyone. Used to, but- yeah. Been drifting in the wind on my own for awhile."
no subject
...Which is carefully avoiding that York has called himself a tragedy. Given that he's lost Delta and (apparently) any of the luck that would've kept him off this boat, that's a joke that's probably not far off from truth.
Ohio is used to being a resident of fuckup town, but it's a little weird that York has come to visit dressed in full local flavor. York was one of the best of them, and that image of him still lives in Ohio's memory. Maybe they were all a mess in various ways and he can only see that now, but damn if it didn't seem like some of them had their shit together.
Then again, being better on the board hasn't seemed to matter anywhere else now that it's over.
"It's... usually worse circumstances than this when I run into anyone," he admits.
no subject
Till he's gotten a chance to sleep properly. Till he's gotten something in him that's more than the barest dregs of a few cans he hadn't been able to sell. Till he's something close to human again. Then he'll...figure something out. Make his way like he's always managed to do. But this time it'll be alone and he's not sure how much longer he could possibly swing it. But for now it's only a few days. Maybe a week. Just till they get somewhere else.
no subject
He needs to go hassle the boys and be evidently alive at them. He can't hold back a weary exhale at the thought. That priority didn't go away just because someone came back from the dead.
"I need to go check my team. You need anything, ask Reti. Stay out of the hold and anywhere that'd make him nervous."
He's almost across the threshold when he realizes that maybe there's something else he should say, it's an impulse more than anything. He pauses, but doesn't turn.
"And York?" Ohio says, "Glad you're alive."
It's best to say something real as a parting shot without a backward glance. Too easy to dwell otherwise.
no subject
But there are people out there that want him dead- or would if they knew he wasn't.
As much of a relief as it is to finally have somewhere to rest trusting it is...it's not going to happen. Even if it's mobile and secure. There's no one to bounce off his predictions anymore, every word echoing in the void; the empty nest of wires and code that used to house Delta. Empty rattling of hollow shells in an ammunition tin; no fire. No support.
All he's got is his gut and his gut gets him shot plenty.
"...Same." Is all he can offer in return because- it feels a little like an accusation. It can't possibly be sincere no matter how much he wants it to be. Still.
Coffee- another mug should be okay, right? Right. A shower. Scrubbing at the stubble on his jaw. Peeking into the hold anyway out of spite has it's appeal but he stifles the desire; sleep calling him. Or. Something close to it.
Tucked up in a corner, sidearm loaded and at hand, helmet on- he dozes. It's as good as it'll get for him.