[open to Hellsing]

[lt_cmmdr_scott]

WHO Scott, semi-open
WHAT Tension week is getting to him~
WHERE Hell House
WHEN Thursday, July 7, all day
NOTES/WARNINGS He is very very tense. And on a very short fuse

Comments

[fuckoingoboingo]

There were a lot of things Owen didn't feel like doing these days. He'd spent most of the past week in his clinic, doing whatever menial tasks he could do from there - even taking his laptop in just so he wouldn't have to go to his office and check in on things. Most of the time in there, though, he'd found himself just sort of... Existing

[fuckoingoboingo]

"Probably could've, yeah. At the very least, you could've just accepted the promotion so I wouldn't have stuck around long enough to nag you about the whole situation." Owen was, if nothing, pragmatic, and there was no point in looking at how things could have. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, Scott. Just. You're forgetting a big difference between us here at Hellsing and the people you worked for under in the Empire. You can tell us when something comes up, and you're not going to get beaten or tortured or whatever for it. For God's sake, we didn't so much as sack Wesley after he stole weaponry to do stupid shit. Do you really think we'd do worse to you?"

[lt_cmmdr_scott]

"Twenty years," he said, looking over at Owen before clarifying. "Twenty goddamned years of Empire politics, an' d'you know what? D'you want t'know it's like?" That tension was back, and to hear Owen talking about being beaten or tortured or whatever... "Twenty years, Owen, never knowin' when I might find a knife between my ribs. Twenty years wonderin' what fuck-up was goin' t'land me in the agony booth this time." He laughed, bitterly, before adding, "So cut me a bit o' fuckin' slack if it's a bit difficult t'remember I'm no' there anymore, alright?"

[fuckoingoboingo]

Owen scowled. He had no idea of how any of that really felt, and he wasn't sure he could even pretend to relate - so he simply didn't. "I don't care. You're here now. And you're going to get over the lunatic blood politics of your universe, because that's not how we work here. And it's not how we're going to work here."

He shifted, stepping forward slightly. He wasn't going to get very close with that dragon around, but... he sort of wanted to. "You can have all the trouble you want distinguishing us from your hell dimension, but we need you to remember where you are after the fact." He felt like an ass for continuing on like this, but he was trying to make a point. A point he wasn't even clear on. "And that means that you tell us when your Empire starts causing a problem for you, so we can help you."

[lt_cmmdr_scott]

"You don't fuckin' get it, do you?" Scott snapped, as Laphroaig curled tighter into his lap. "It's no' something y'just get over." And how the hell was he supposed to explain to Owen that even though he was loyal to Hellsing, even though he'd do anything for the organization, if a way to go home opened itself to him... But he'd done what he could, to make sure he didn't find a way. "I'm an Imperial officer, Owen, an' I don't give a fuck if that doesn't mean shit here." It wasn't something he could just turn off. Twenty years of training didn't erase themselves just because he wasn't in the Empire anymore.

[fuckoingoboingo]

Owen looked at Scott, then at the dragon in his lap, and shook his head. "No. It's not. And I don't give a fuck if you're an Imperial officer or a bloody Stormtrooper. I'm telling you to try and remember you have friends here, you moron. And that those friends, the ones you've been acting like a complete ass to, aren't going to torture you, so consider talking to us?"

He turned. "Either way, you're welcome for the promotion, and we'll pass down some extra busywork to keep you from getting in trouble with your psychotic crewmate from hell. Sound good?"

[lt_cmmdr_scott]

He looked away, unwilling to meet Owen's eyes. And God knew he never apologized, and certainly not to people like Owen, but he'd apologized to Ianto and maybe... Maybe Owen deserved one too. Even if Scott was fairly certain the other man would just brush it off. "Sorry," he said, his voice tight. It was every bit as awkward as it had been when he'd apologized to Ianto, but for all that it sounded forced, he meant it.

[fuckoingoboingo]

"Yeah, well." Owen sighed and looked back to Scott. "Don't worry about it. You're a royal fuckup, I'm used to it. Nobody else I'd rather share my basement with."

[lt_cmmdr_scott]

He rolled his eyes, but he was glad at least that Owen wasn't making a big deal of it. He didn't think he could handle two heartfelt talks about how much shit the Empire was. "That's settled, then," he said. He'd take the promotion, because there wasn't really anything else he could do. And as long as he hung around the Hell House, Uhura couldn't touch him. It wasn't exactly problem solved, but it at least meant being able to put off having to find a solution.

[fuckoingoboingo]

"That's the sort of agreement I like hearing," Owen replied, waving a hand as he made for the door. "Also, do something to cheer up your little psychotic boots-in-the-making, would you? It looks absolutely pathetic like it is."

[lt_cmmdr_scott]

"His name's Laphroaig," Scott answered, but without much bite to the words. Owen was right. Laphroaig looked absolutely pathetic. Though he seemed to be perking up a bit, with Owen headed back toward the door. Weird.

[fuckoingoboingo]

"Still looks like a pair of expensive shoes to me," Owen said, swinging the door wide and shooting Scott one last look. Part of him wished he could just go back in and jump the other man then and there to work off whatever weird tension had built in the both of them, but that avenue was roadblocked now. Ah, well. Fun while it lasted. "Have fun with that promotion, then."