[mars ain't the kind of place to raise your kids] ~open log~
who ; thom_293 and anyone who cares to run into him! \o/
what ; Thom is getting out of Spartanhaus to stretch his legs, explore the area and use his MAGICAL JETPACK to scope out sniper vantage points. He'll also be making a brief sojourn into the junkyard to search for supplies. Feel free to catch him anywhere your character might be that's still out in ( Read more... )
what ; Thom is getting out of Spartanhaus to stretch his legs, explore the area and use his MAGICAL JETPACK to scope out sniper vantage points. He'll also be making a brief sojourn into the junkyard to search for supplies. Feel free to catch him anywhere your character might be that's still out in ( Read more... )
Still, the gunpowder can be salvaged, and it's not like the twenty-five kilos is anything approaching a hindrance to him. He hefts it up onto one shoulder and picks his way through other, less useful detritus.
It's the ping from his motion tracker that does it; a solitary blip, no FOF tag identifier to speak of, but it sets him instantly on edge. The visibility in the junkyard isn't the best to begin with, and the idea of an ambush--
For a moment, he almost laughs at himself. Really? Really? He's so jumpy he's surprised Carter hasn't confiscated every weapon he has. The odds of the blip being hostile are pretty low, all things considered, and Thom sets out to intercept it. He's not exactly making an excess of noise, but he doesn't want to surprise the person, either.
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Paranoia briefly. Unusual. His mind goes to Motoko and he snarls internally. No; he's better trained than that. Not everything is related to her. Thane is not that foolish.
Then he raises his head and frowns. Who else? Any number of people, anyone at all.
Still, his hand rests on his pistol. Just in case. A neck snap would be quicker, but there's no reason to be lethal right away. Not necessarily.
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Thom's less obviously armed. Maybe he's proving a point to himself - not everything out here wants to stomp all over his entrails, right? - but whatever his final reasoning is, the hand not balancing the ammo box on his shoulder is empty as he slides into view. Of course, it's within fairly reasonable distance to the magnum on his thigh, but he's holding his hand turned away from it, palm up. Unless whoever it is has prior experience with Spartans, it's doubtful they'll expect his reflexes.
"I come in peace?"
Somehow, that phrase is a lot more ridiculous when he's not watching it on the holoscreen. Thom just grimaces, glad of his visor and its magical expression-hiding-ability.
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There's a long pause, and Thane stares at Thom. He recognizes the type of suit that it is, and the voice is clear to him. No, they have never met, but Thane never forgets a voice. ...Or, really, forgets anything period.
"I would rather not shoot you, Noble-Seven," he muses faintly, lowering his hand. "I would not expect to be meeting you here of all places."
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"And I'd rather you not shoot me too." It's more a jest than actual trepidation. Life is at least as cheap as death in this place, and Thom's never been particularly afraid of dying.
"Just out for a walk. Stretch my legs. Found this," he shrugs the shoulder under the ammo box. It's impossible to hide, anyways. "But not having much luck anywhere else. You?"
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"I am... testing something. Walking. Stretching my legs as well. I feel I almost have too much energy these days, and not enough concentration for my usual meditations," Thane responds. "It's a bit disconcerting."
His head tilts to Thom's box. "But, congratulations on your find. How has your team been?"
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"I never got to thank you directly for your help against the Marker," he says instead. "And I'm sorry if any of that has to do with... any of this."
He makes a vague gesture, meant to encompass Thane's own words. Sure, the guy's an alien, but Thom's never had quite the same level of vehement dislike towards them that, say, Kat and Emile had. Especially in this place, he's developed a sort of 'live and let live' creed.
He does stiffen, just the slightest bit, at the mention of his team. Sheer reflex. He likes you, Thane, but 'like' doesn't necessarily extend to being willing to hand off a full on status report. "Green, mostly. You know us. Cockroaches with attitude."
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The reaction Thom has, although subtle, is still noted mentally by Thane. He reads body language out of habit; it's not meant to be invasive.
"I am not asking for details," he assures gently. "No more than I would tell you everything about my crew. I am simply glad that everyone is, for the most part, whole."
They are still separate teams; Thane does not expect anything specific. That would be unfair.
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To some Spartans, their name is virtually sacred. The only link they have to the childhood they never really lived. But Thom actually prefers it, when dealing with non-Spartans. Hey, he never said he wasn't weird.
He mulls over Thane's words a moment, and some of that tension bleeds away. Sorry, bro, he's a little twitchier than normal, and kind of embarrassed that he's being so easily read. Usually the armour works as a barrier, something impenetrable between him and the rest of the world. It's another sign of still being hung up on the stresses of the last couple weeks, something that'll take some serious self reflection to sort out. "Yeah. I - sorry. Everybody on your side doing okay?"
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