hadriel_logs | why can't we be friends? [CLOSED]

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why can't we be friends? [CLOSED]

Who: Rey, Nick Valentine, and Firo Prochainezo.
What: After making a little house call, Rey, Nick, and Firo finally have a heart to heart.
Where: Robot House (1401)
When: Backdated to a day after Sato's antics and shortly after this.
Warnings: Injury, some mentions of violence (while pending no potential robo detective-on-immortal camorrista violence).

Pain jabs at Rey's ribs when she sets down the phone on the coffee table beside the soft, cushiony couch. She hadn't been wasting much time on the network, focusing more on rest and letting her body heal itself after the more serious damage had been mended. Though she isn't out of the woods yet, she expects a full recovery within the next few days, and tells her roommate as such so that he wouldn't fuss over her so much.

Needless to say, she hasn't been all that successful in putting his mind at ease. But hey, she tries. Her chest continues to ache from having been dug into by Sato's invisible helper, though most of the internal damage is healed. Enough that she isn't hacking up blood, anyway. Her hands also no longer look like meaty swiss cheese, but she's bandaged them to hide the damage that's still righting itself. Keep Nick from getting too worried, or so she thinks.

Knowing that Firo is going to be here soon, she glances over towards the sniper rifle, leaned up against the wall across the living area. The same rifle that she had acquired during a trade with Lilith in exchange for an ammunition supply, before she had vanished and thus, presumably nullifying their deal. It was also that rifle Rey had then bartered with Sato for the return of the masergun. A microwave weapon from her own world, and one that has no business being in that man's possession.

And now, the same rifle had also been used by Firo during Sato's more recent attempts to inspire a civil uprising. Which then landed in Nick's possession, and now has fallen back into her home.

So, in a way, that rifle really has gotten around. The hussy.

Rey lets out a shaky exhale as she moves to rise from the couch, intending to head for the door when Firo arrives, only to slip back into the cushions with a strained yelp. Fuck everything.

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That yelp doesn't go unnoticed: Nick's voice calls from his room, where he's busy working on files -- or more accurately, reworking files to replace any instance of Rey with Fiona.

"You'd better still be on that couch by the time I get out there, Rey."

That's followed by the sound of his chair sliding back, and his cane hitting the floor. So much for not worrying him.

Busted.

Rey's mouth tightens as she leans back into the couch. She folds her arms over her chest rather than getting up, only to wince when a sharp sting shoots through her chest. Her hands go back over her lap.

"Firo should be coming over soon," she'll tell Nick once he's in the living area.

And yes, she is on the couch when he is.

Firo doesn't waste any time making his way over there, and their close proximity means that it doesn't even take him a minute. Since Rey didn't seem to make it to the door, Firo knocks and stands back.

This doesn't seem like a good sign. Firo can't help but glance over each shoulder, wondering faintly if this is a set up. He wouldn't suspect Rey; she's a friend. But it's often a guy's friend who blasts his head off when he's slated for murder.

And after what happened, both Rey and Nick have plenty of reason to be mad at him.

Well, whatever. He said he'd come over, and there's nothing he can do about a possible murder until it's actually coming at him.

Nick's head turns toward the door at the knock. He casts Rey a sideways look that says stay there and heads to unlock it, his uneven steps and cane muffled through the door.

Click, click, and he pulls the door open, giving their guest a nod as he comes into view. Leaning on his cane, he steps aside to make room for him to enter.

"Firo."

Firo's back stiffens when he sees Nick instead of Rey, and for a moment he just stares. Then he slips his hands in his pockets and assumes his typical slight slouch, trying very hard to pretend that everything's normal and that he doesn't at all feel awkward about talking to this guy.

He hangs back a moment even when he sees the space Nick's left for him to get in. But he can't look like he's hesitant or scared, so he slips in and turns to look at his host. "Rey said she was here."

With the message received, Rey stays put. She isn't sure she much likes the vibe shared between the two when Nick invites Firo in, but at least they're making an effort to stay civil. Firo's words and concern is still very fresh in Rey's mind.

From the couch, she waves towards their guest, proving to him that she wasn't lying about being here. Though Carlisle had done plenty of healing the major damage, both external and internal, she still looks a little worse for wear. Enough so that it's no mystery as to why she called Firo over, instead of it being the other way around.

Nick closes the door behind Firo, his brow still furrowed from the stare he just received. He can see right through Firo's front, but stays polite on his end. Rey said they'd make this work, after all.

He leaves Firo to check on Rey -- he'd want to do the same -- and beelines for where the rifle is leaning against the far wall.

Seeing Rey indisposed is a shock far worse than the man at the door, and Firo's eyes both widen and soften when he sees her. He raises one hand to wave. "Hey. I'd ask how you're doin', but..." It's obviously not very well.

He catches Nick's movement out of the corner of his eye. He doesn't like it--yeah, he wants the rifle back, but his first thought when seeing someone go for a weapon is to be wary. He pivots so that he has a good view of both Rey and Nick, and he smiles without humor. "So is this a set up?"

Sometimes appearances speak more than words. Rey will be fine -- she knows that. It'll just take another day or so for her injuries to right themselves.

She blinks at Firo's question, catches the uncertainty in his smile and words mixed in there. Her eyes shift to Nick going for the rifle, before back to Firo, and she remembers how well their last conversation had gone yesterday.

"Damn, you mean you've seen through my plan to have Nick put a few shots through your brain before shoving you into that box and dump you in the river?" She manages a strained smile of her own, but coughs instead of laughs. She places a hand over her chest as she clears her throat. "That's a joke, by the way."

Albeit in poor taste.

Rey jokes, but Nick just sighs at Firo's assumption. This is going well. "If that was the case, we'd find something better to do it with than a rifle," he utters. He's already unloaded the gun as it is.

It takes him another couple of uneven steps to get to the weapon; he picks it up with his bare, metal hand and brings it back over to the couch.

He snorts. "You're hilarious." Nick's words, he notes might forecast some future threat, but at least they're not one now. Near as he can tell.

Firo doesn't yet reach for the gun even when Nick returns. He doesn't want to make any sudden movements in this tense situation, because he assumes that at least Nick would be just as wary as he is. "So that's it? You really are gonna give it back?"

Firo is tense, but Nick is doing his damnedest to be on his best behavior for Rey's sake; the man's wary response in light of how much Nick has trusted both him and Rey on this matter -- a matter where the Guard and his only family were all put in danger, resulting in the injured Rey they're both seeing -- finally cajoles a sharp remark out of the old synth.

"Look, I don't know what it is you're expecting out of me," he cuts back, holding out the gun, "but I've been trying to make this work, and I'd appreciate it if you cut me some slack."

Edited 2017-01-02 03:10 (UTC)

Firo blinks, now just plain puzzled instead of anything else. His eyes flick sidelong to Rey, as if she'll offer some kind of translation. "Cut you some slack? What else am I supposed to be doin' right now, huh? I'm not some idiot."

Rey Firo may be on the road to trusting, but that doesn't mean that her friends have any idea to like him. Especially not now. That Nick hasn't overtly come at Firo--the very thing Nick's fairly pointing out in his own defense right now--is part of why Firo's so wary. There's no reason for it, and it's just plain confusing.

Goddammit.

Against her better judgment, Rey is on her feet. The pain only agitates, burning from where Sato's invisible 'friend' had sunk its claws right through her samandrine and skin and sliced up her insides. She winces, but has had to bore through far greater agonies than this. This is nothing, she keeps telling herself. More like a bee sting than even a flesh wound.

"We don't think you're an idiot, Firo," Rey interjects between her teeth. "Nick is returning the gun to you, and you're giving it back to Sato when he asks for it. We're not telling the Guard about your involvement."

Even if the principal of that goes against everything Nick stands for -- a good cop that does what he thinks is right.

That does go against what Nick stands for, even if Nick was the one to leave him mostly off the books in the first place. Much like Rey's involvement, it's on a need-to-know basis, something barely listed in a footnote so it doesn't look as though Nick passed a blind eye to Firo entirely. He has to make sure there's something there for Sato to see in case he ever gets a hold of the files, after all. Better safe than sorry. In terms of who actually knows what happened, however, it's basically just Nick and Rey. If anyone wants to know, they can ask, and he can decide there and then how to handle it.

But for now, he's off the hook, if only for Rey and Muscovy's sake.

Nick glances over at Rey, his expression hardening, but concerned. "Rey, sit."

In her condition, Firo's not pleased to see Rey rise either. Especially not for him--he's already caused her enough trouble. He winces and holds up a hand in a gesture that almost begs her to stop. "Hey--"

But she keeps talking, and once again he's simply confused. He looks between the two of them. No punchline presents itself. "You're what?"

He hadn't thought too much about what they'd report. Not because he had assumed it wouldn't affect him, but because he assumed it would have a big effect on him; there was just no point in worrying until he got carted away or shot or whatever it is the Guard does to people.

Not wanting to get drowned out in the shuffle of Firo and Nick's exchange, Rey waves off both of their concerns with her free hand at first. If nothing else, at least it seems that they can agree on something.

"The Guard isn't some militant force that can assume any form of authority. It was built to protect people who can't protect themselves, not rule over them."

A common misconception among the naysayers, it would appear. Sharon had the right idea when she referred to them as 'self-appointed high school hall monitors'.

Expelling a breath, Rey drops back down into the couch. Happy, you two? "You're staying off the records, and Sato can't know that I have any involvement with the Guard." It's an important detail to note, in case it ever comes up for whatever reason. "Besides, I supplied him with faulty explosives."

Just saying.

While not happy Rey had to cut in for Firo to (hopefully) see reason, Nick knows nothing he could possibly say would get results. That's just the way negotiations go sometimes, especially when folks can't see past appearances. Being both a former cop and a synth, he has a lot working against him for some people.

He leans the gun against the end table next to the couch and, giving a look to Firo, jerks his head back toward the sitting area, a gesture to follow. With that, he turns and goes that way himself, sliding into his easy chair.

Firo gives one last look at the gun and follows, almost gingerly. He's not used to being a guest in someone's home, especially not a home with a cop in it. He stands there a moment, then finally decides to perch on the very edge of the couch, as far away as he can be from Rey. She needs her space.

This is weird. What's even weirder to Firo is that nobody else seems to realize how weird it is. They're too busy being annoyed, which is fine and fair, but it's not how things between him and people like Nick are supposed to work. They should be at each other's throats.

"You really think that was a good idea, Rey? What're you gonna do if he finds out?" His eyes flick between Rey and Nick.

Seeing her condition, he feels in his heart that siding with Sato was a horrible mistake--once he'd known Rey was against him, he'd hoped that she'd be able to get out in much better shape than this. In his head, though? It seems like more evidence in favor of what he did. Much as he hates it, it seems like bargaining rather than fighting might keep his family safer.

Let's be real: When has Rey ever been prone to good ideas?

She just shrugs off Firo's concern. "I'm adaptable. Besides, he's never asked where I stand on the Guard, so technically I have never lied to him about it."

Maybe he'd get hung up on those details, though. Maybe he'd laugh it off and see it as a challenge. Rey tries not to obsess over the 'what if's of the situation she's put herself in.

Nick is mostly listening here, but he does make one note:

"And in case he goes sniffing around the headquarters, she's not on any of our files." Or won't be by the time he's finished.

Firo raises both eyebrows. Wonder how that came about--good to know that even this place has what he'd think of as corruption as usual. "Hope that works. Is that kinda thing gonna stop him?"

He pauses, bites his lip. "How the hell'd he bust you up that bad anyway?"

There is no certainty with this. The most Rey can do is shrug, rather than come up with some vague bullshit answer.

"Don't suppose you've ever had the pleasure of meeting his invisible helper, have you? Sharp claws, crocodile teeth, talks in an ominously distorted voice?"

Something that no sane person would go at with their bare hands?

Firo straightens in his seat. "What?"

He quickly shakes his head. "I'd remember something like that. He never showed it to me, even when he was showin' me all this other weird stuff." Like how he could grow a new Sato. That was gross. "So that's what busted you up?"

She nods calmly, almost relieved that Firo hasn't had the displeasure of making such an acquaintance.

"Saw it just tearing into some of the androids in the tunnels when I was tracking down my maser." Maybe she's putting too much stock in Firo's memory, but she recalls her dream-self explaining the energy weapons from her own world then. She also jerks her head at the sniper rifle that was in his possession. "That's why Sato's got that now, too. Didn't want him to think that I was stealing his new 'toy' from him."

Rey doubts that she needs to explain why, or just how badly that situation could have gone. But since Firo now knows where the gun had come from, he might as well hear the reason why.

"Anyway, I don't really know what that thing of his is yet, but I wouldn't recommend attempting to throw it down in fisticuffs." For obvious reasons.

The gun thing makes more sense than Rey sharing it out of the goodness of her heart. Firo nods slowly.

"So next time he decides he wants to lead a revolt, what's your move? If you can't fight it..." It's exactly the scenario Firo was thinking of when he decided to throw in with Sato. If you can't beat him, join him. You need to have some sort of leverage.

He runs his fingers through his hair. "I knew he was tough, but I didn't think he had anything like that up his sleeve."

Rey might be nice by Firo and Nick's standards, but she isn't that nice. At least, not blindly so that she'd be charitable to just anyone.

She waves a hand at Firo's question. "Play along as much as I can."

It isn't the soundest plan, or even a plan at all. But it's all she has.

"It isn't surprising that he'd keep some of his cards close. I'd also wager he has combat military experience as well." Not that he's said it, but he didn't have to. The way he fights is nothing you pick up in a barroom brawl.

Firo shrugs. "You'd know more about that kinda thing than me. But he's definitely tough. I cut him in half and he didn't even flinch. He even still talked."

Even immortals back home don't get that kind of pain tolerance without a lot of practice and a lot of crazy.

"A guy who barely feels pain like that isn't the kinda guy you can 'punish' too easily. He's not gonna lie down."

Whether the fact that she doesn't even balk at Firo admitting to having cut up the guy speaks volumes about Sato or Rey, who knows. She just nods once in understanding. "Yes, he was like that when I killed him a few times, too."

He seemed to treat a bullet wound like an inconvenience than something life-threatening or painful in the least. Not that Rey is quick to give context to this.

"You're right. Problem is, no one has the authority to actually punish anyone."

So where does that leave them? Anarchy? Martial law? The latter hardly sounds like it'll go over well with most of the people here.

At her last remark, Firo can't stop his mouth from twisting a little. He waves one hand, as if the 'problem' is a fly he can swat away.

"Sato or not, you think that's a problem? You don't need authority, you just need to deal with it on your own terms."

The thought of the Guard approaching any kind of real authority is disturbing to him.

"And what alternative do you suggest? That we play judge, jury, and executioner with the people who decide to shake the pot up too much?"

General 'we', in this case. Whether it be the Guard, Rey herself, or even Firo in tow, there is always going to be a ruckus about who gets to make those decisions.

Then there is the matter of the gods making an intervention. The assholes.

Firo's mouth thins to a line, and he shakes his head. It is, essentially, what he means, but he doesn't recognize his own thinking when it's couched in such law and order terms. "What I mean is: don't waste your time making up things like the guard. People where I'm from did just fine without the cops when it came to solving problems."

"And people where I'm from didn't," Nick cuts in.

He tries to keep the disappointment from his voice, but it's likely been obvious to Rey, given how much she knows his mannerisms, that none of this conversation is going well in his mind. His brow has been knit, metal hand fidgeting slightly, eyes carefully watching the two of them as they've gone back and forth. There's no changing someone's mind overnight, but it doesn't help that Firo comes from a very different mindset, and likely a very different world than either of them. That, and he seems stubborn as hell.

Well, at least he's in good company on that last one.

Edited 2017-01-06 04:33 (UTC)

Here we go again. Rey sighs, reading Nick's physical tells throughout the conversation. He might look machine in appearance, but his mannerisms and personal beliefs speak otherwise.

"First of all, I wasn't the one who put together the Guard. Secondly, I told you before, the Guard are not cops. They're not even comparable to cops, no matter which types are on it." She glances to Nick, and then to Firo. It's hard, but she gets where both are coming from.

When Nick finally cuts in, Firo glares over his way. Then he turns back to Rey, scoffing. "Maybe to people like you." He does have to remember that she's different than him in this way, for all that she reminds him of some people back home.

It's different when you've lived your whole life on the other side of things. The badges are the worst, of course, but you don't need a badge to be a problem. It's hard for him to understand that not being self-evident. But there's a lot he's not understanding here.

Now he looks from Rey to Nick, his eyes narrowed and his posture tense. They obviously have very few things they agree on, so... "Why're you going easy on me?"

Nick--and Rey too--didn't need to leave him out of the reports or to give the gun back. Hell, Nick didn't even need to try talking to him to make him stop shooting. There must be something going on here, and Firo knows he's at a disadvantage until he figures it out.

Nick notes the way Firo glares at him, and it apparently rubs him the wrong way. "For someone who acts like he knows everything, I thought you'd have figured it out by now."

But apparently he needs it spelled out for him, so Nick does just that, biting back his sharper tone. "I can't change what I am, and it's obvious what you think of me, but I was being honest when I told you I was glad Muscovy has someone looking out for him. Same with the offer I made you. I know you and Rey are close, and I guess I was hoping there was more to you than this tough-guy attitude you keep shoving at me... and that if she could trust you, that maybe there's a reason that I could, too."

Whether it's in Hadriel or in the Commonwealth, people just can't seem to get along. That's normal, but being at each other's throats all the time isn't the answer. That much he knows.

Her eyes narrow, more scrutinizing than a glare. "And what, exactly, do you consider 'people like me'?"

For as much as Firo knows about Rey, there are still many things that he doesn't. Him and Nick alike. The fact that she worked outside of the law and had done a catastrophic amount of damage are things she takes no pride in. But she also doesn't know how to feel about people making certain assumptions about the sort of person she really is... or was. The sort of person she has to fight every day not to be.

She's pinching the bridge of her nose while Nick answers. "Also," she cuts in after he's finished, "I don't want the Guard to start associating you with that guy. Don't think 'Sato's Chum' is the type of rep you want to brandish whether the Guard existed or not."

Firo scrutinizes Nick carefully and stiffens as he speaks. It just makes no sense, and he can't see where Nick wins saying things like that. He's almost grateful that Rey pipes up afterward, because that gives him something to shift his focus to.

"People who aren't like me," he offers simply. "You can't tell me we haven't had really different jobs."

That's the easy part out of the way. Now Firo faces Nick yet again. He's not glaring anymore; in fact, he's keeping his face carefully clear of expression, because the only expression he'd be able to offer is one of confusion and maybe a bit of anxiety. This is uncharted territory for him... and it's a little scary. Because even as Firo turns the words over and over in his head, he can't sense any lying coming from Nick.

He frowns, but it's more concerned than resentful. "And you. You're gonna get yourself killed thinking like that."

Nick meets Firo's impassive expression with one of his own until a wry grin pulls so slightly at the corner of his mouth. "Well, I'm past the warranty date anyway, and there's no sense in making enemies when I can do otherwise."

His brow knits, his eyes flicking to Rey for a fraction of a second, then back. "... Especially when it comes to the people Rey trusts. Those she considers friends, and maybe more." Family, even. That's not an easy thing to earn, and Nick knows it.

Sorry, Rey -- he knows you're right there, but he's trying to make this as easy to understand as possible.

If it wasn't such a morbid matter, Rey almost could have laughed at that. "Technically, what I did wasn't what you can call a job."

Actually, she doesn't know what you could call it. A function? A purpose? It wasn't like she had the luxury of spending a paycheck whenever she played her little roles. Pretended to be human. Now, her place in a working society is more unclear. Is there a part for her to play back home, even in the unlikely event that her lifeline doesn't end?

Either way, her point still stands. Rey's attention is drawn from that and back to Nick, giving him an exasperated look that almost screams 'you cut that out' rather than outright saying it aloud.

It may or may not be very clear it isn't the first time she's heard something like that from her roommate.

It still doesn't seem like he's lying, and suddenly Firo finds that response not in the least heartening. Because now it's a problem, and it's partially his problem if he owes something to a guy this naive. He presses his palm to his forehead and sighs. "You can't say I didn't warn you. And don't think that we're gonna be friends just because we're not enemies."

Great. Now he has to keep an eye on Nick too? He supposes it seems like less of a pain if he thinks of it as something he'll do for Rey; if Nick is trying to be good to the rest of Rey's family, then Firo can do the same.

Besides, he can't let Nick upstage him. A man would be sure to pay back anyone who lent him a hand whether he wanted it or not--Firo supposes that's the position he's in with Nick now.

To Rey, "You're gonna have your work cut out for you keeping him in line."

Welcome to Rey's world, Firo. She's got way too many people to keep an eye on as it is, between friends, family, and just-- whatever the fuck Sato is.

At Firo's comment, she just shrugs, holding back the ironic fact that she be the one to keep anyone in line. Not when she had been the one kept on a short leash to ensure that she didn't cause undue harm to herself and others.

Those were some interesting times.

"Like you're one to talk," she says instead. With Nick, Firo, and everyone else she's got in her life right now, she might as well be herding cats. Furious cats that keep hissing and scratching at each other, no less.

One corner of Firo's mouth quirks up. "I take care of myself just fine. You guys focus on yourselves."

But he supposes some of the 'damage' is already done--he does have to address what they've done for him.

He looks at the gun then to each Nick and Rey. He straightens. "I guess I owe you both for this now. And I'll pay you back, you can count on that."

It's easier than just saying thank you.

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why can't we be friends? [CLOSED]

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