B raps smartly on Yelena's door. He's put aside any potential freak-out he might have, because he knows hers is going to be exponentially worse. And hers is going to have more rage, he's sure. Also, it definitely has not been enough time for him to read her file-- to check and make sure he had one, but not to read it. He doesn't even have it with him.
"Come on," he calls through the door. "We've got a date with the Enclosure."
Talking is not a thing he expect will happen very quickly. Maybe not even today, but he hopes so. So he goes with the next best thing that still involves her having to see him: obstacle courses to hurl yourself through.
A happy bark greets his voice, quickly silenced. For a long moment, there's nothing, like she's silently counting down the seconds in hopes that he just leaves, and watching Mila's body language to see that he isn't.
"Fuck off," finally comes, curt and clear, and even with the closed and locked door between them, it carries with it the sense of a snarl, lips skinned back, teeth bared, feral.
He's very pointedly not feeling anything right now. It's all smashed down and shoved in its own little box. This is about her feelings right now, not his. So he takes this in stride. He expected it.
"Later," he promises. Well, sort of promises. He's not going to be leaving her alone forever, but he'll leave her alone for a day or three after she does this one thing, if she wants him to. "But this first. Come on. I won't even make you talk." He pauses, then adds, "If you don't, I'll just sit here until you do come out. If you come with me now, it'll be over with quicker."
Her hands clench, nails biting into the heels of her palms.
"And then what? You physically force me? Because those are your two options - you leave me alone, or you beat me until I can't fight you any more." A brief pause. "Rumour says that's all the rage with wardens these days."
Low blow, Yelena. She probably doesn't even know Lark is B's friend. (Or was. Or is his friend-on-hold. Depends how their conversation goes, really, if Lark ever owns up to fucking up.)
He doesn't hesitate in his answer, though. "No. I follow you around and make a nuisance of myself. I am very patient. And I had three little sisters. I know how to be annoying."
It's entirely possible she doesn't even know the name Lark Tennant as anything more than part of a list that rolls out every month. It doesn't matter - it's everything she's expected from the Barge, everything people have been determined to pretend doesn't happen.
She snorts, low and disgusted. "Psychological warfare? That's your go-to? Well, at least you are admitting you don't care about anyone's choices but your own."
Right, because being regular big-brother annoying is psychological warfare. Jesus Christ, that's the stupidest thing he's ever heard, and he can't even really be upset about it, because she's really reaching now and it's obvious.
"Yelena. I am going to make you the best obstacle course I know of and let you do something with all that anger you've got in there," he says patiently. "You'll feel better after. And like I said, I won't make you talk at all. I'll even leave you in there by yourself if you want. But sitting in there and stewing is not going to help anybody. Especially not you."
"If you wanted to help me, you would do what I told you, and leave me the fuck alone," she snaps. "You can do that, or you can force me, but I'm not going to just give you control of my life."
Leaving her alone isn't going to help, either. And there's no control here, no matter what she thinks. She won't believe it if he says it, though, he thinks, so he doesn't. He's quiet a moment, instead, resting his forehead against the door.
"I was glad," he says finally. "When I heard the announcement. Glad that he picked me. If it was anybody else, I know I'd go a little nuts at them, because I'd be so worried about you. Maybe I'll fuck this up. Maybe you'll hate me. I probably deserve it. But at least I know nobody else can hurt you, if it's me."
He straightens a little, though his metal hand is still on the door. "You might not want to be friends. But there is nothing you can do that will make me not care about you."
She hopes, almost, that the brief silence means he's left, though Mila's attention on the door shatters that hope even before he speaks.
"You've never been able to keep people from hurting me," she says, low and harsh. He hadn't harmed any of the girls himself - but neither had he been able to stop the other trainers from doing so. Some small part of her mind, not drowning in dread and acidic fury, wonders, not for the first time, if his occasional disappearances, his occasional lapses in recall, had coincided with times he'd tried. "And you don't have to wait to fuck up for me to hate you."
She's not wrong. About not being able to protect her before, and probably even about attempting to at least once during the training years. And he can own up to that, because he knows what he was. He knows the limits he'd been working under, back then. He hates it, but he accepts it.
But this isn't back then. "I'm not a murder machine who doesn't know how to say no anymore," he says. "I'm awake and I'm a person and-- and you can hate me all you want. It won't make me stop caring. And it won't stop me from trying to get you out of here, and back to living."
"What, do you think forcing me to jump through your Admiral's hoops will make up for what you helped make me into? There is no walking back what I am."
She clenches her teeth, hard enough to send a spike of pain radiating along her lower jaw, then chokes out, "How long? If I play your stupid Enclosure game, how much time will that buy me being left alone?"
His eyes narrow at the door. It's a crack in the wall. He will take that crack and drive a fucking wedge into it, so help him. He is going to get her out of here eventually, even if it takes baby steps all the way.
"Three days," he offers, ready and willing to take counter-offers if he has to.
She doesn't expect to get it, but if she can get at least four, she should be able to steal enough snacks from the mess hall to replenish her stockpile and begin formulating a plan.
"Four," he says, as expected, and sweetens the deal with, "And I'll bring you a CD player and all the Nine Inch Nails CDs from the library so you can scream along with Trent Reznor during those four days."
Maybe that's half a joke. But he will do it. Give her some asset music to get more of the anger out with, maybe.
"Four," she finally agrees. "And leaving me alone means you do not come here, you do not message me, you do not speak to me if we cross paths on this stupid ship, you do not send anyone to check in on me to get around that."
"Deal, if you still come play with the puppies before bed." They're old enough that they don't need midnight feedings anymore, but they know her, and he thinks they'll miss her if she's gone. Also, it's a reason for her to leave her cabin for longer than it takes to walk her own dog. "I'll make sure I'm not there. But I'll know if you don't come."
She also has her custodial shifts, and unlike many inmates assigned to the work, she actually does them. Locking herself in her cabin for days on end is a rare occurrence.
But:
"Deal. But if you break our bargain, the clock starts over."
She makes a small skeptical noise - even if he keeps his distance, she doesn't trust him not to deploy some flying monkeys, promise or no.
The next sounds that come from inside the room are clearly that of a woman coaxing her young dog into her crate, against said dog's desire to greet the friend she can hear and smell on the other side of the door. And perhaps to get in a little extra playtime, in spite of only just having returned from the walk that is the entire reason Yelena'd actually been in her room to find in the first place, and not holed up in the one place on the ship a warden can't get to her.
Then silence. When she finally emerges, after a few minutes in total, it's dressed in workout clothes, with enough give to move but not enough to snag on anything, hair pinned up tight to her scalp.
He'd said he wasn't going to make her talk - and so she doesn't.
Poor Mila. B can only hope things will improve so she'll let him play with her dog again sometime soon.
He doesn't make her talk. He just settles in to walk beside her, tucking his hands in his pockets and keeping his eyes front rather than on her. He goes with stairs rather than elevator, because moving in silence is easier than standing in place in silence, even if it's a longer trip.
At the Enclosure he tells it, "Kamino Mobility Training Course Four."
The doors then open to an indoor obstacle course, a series of moving platforms, hanging bars and pendulums, things to climb and jump over and hit out of the way. Underneath the course is saltwater, something safe to fall into if you lose your grip or miss a jump. Everything is automated, and randomized, so you can't necessarily predict what's going to move where. There's a timer that can be set manually at the start, if you want to time your run, but the obstacles keep moving even without it.
It's B's favorite obstacle course, and where he goes when he's feeling stressed.
She keeps as much distance between them as she can, given the limited space in both hallways and stairwells, expression a blank mask. It doesn't shift even as she takes in the course within the Enclosure's walls, noting the movement of the obstacles, and the potential impact of a misstep. Even water hurts, if you fall from a height and are only human.
Hurts a lot less than the ground. And for at least some of the time he used this room, he was only human, not taking his serum back until he was nearly graduated. The course is made for human-base soldiers, so it should be fine for her, especially at the speed he's left it at.
He steps back to let her through. "Want me to leave you do it?" he says. "Or stay and spot for you?"
"I do not want you having an excuse to say I broke our deal," she says as she steps through the door and to the side, toeing her shoes and socks of after a moment's thought. It will give her a better grip on the platforms, if they're as damp as they would be if this were real metal, real water.
He considers trying to argue with her about how he's not actually a rules lawyer, but he suspects she knows that perfectly well, and she's just using the excuse to pick at him some more. His feelings are safe in a box somewhere. So she can pick at him if she needs to.
He just nods, and settles inside the doorway once it slides shut again. He folds his arms lightly, leans back, and lets her run.
Many of the obstacles are plastic, rubber, and cement, as much as if not more than metal. Or something like plastic, rubber, and cement, but futuristic versions of the same. Sci fi. This comes from a Star Wars universe, after all.
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About 10 minutes after the pairing notice
"Come on," he calls through the door. "We've got a date with the Enclosure."
Talking is not a thing he expect will happen very quickly. Maybe not even today, but he hopes so. So he goes with the next best thing that still involves her having to see him: obstacle courses to hurl yourself through.
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"Fuck off," finally comes, curt and clear, and even with the closed and locked door between them, it carries with it the sense of a snarl, lips skinned back, teeth bared, feral.
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"Later," he promises. Well, sort of promises. He's not going to be leaving her alone forever, but he'll leave her alone for a day or three after she does this one thing, if she wants him to. "But this first. Come on. I won't even make you talk." He pauses, then adds, "If you don't, I'll just sit here until you do come out. If you come with me now, it'll be over with quicker."
Again, for now.
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"And then what? You physically force me? Because those are your two options - you leave me alone, or you beat me until I can't fight you any more." A brief pause. "Rumour says that's all the rage with wardens these days."
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He doesn't hesitate in his answer, though. "No. I follow you around and make a nuisance of myself. I am very patient. And I had three little sisters. I know how to be annoying."
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She snorts, low and disgusted. "Psychological warfare? That's your go-to? Well, at least you are admitting you don't care about anyone's choices but your own."
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"Yelena. I am going to make you the best obstacle course I know of and let you do something with all that anger you've got in there," he says patiently. "You'll feel better after. And like I said, I won't make you talk at all. I'll even leave you in there by yourself if you want. But sitting in there and stewing is not going to help anybody. Especially not you."
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"I was glad," he says finally. "When I heard the announcement. Glad that he picked me. If it was anybody else, I know I'd go a little nuts at them, because I'd be so worried about you. Maybe I'll fuck this up. Maybe you'll hate me. I probably deserve it. But at least I know nobody else can hurt you, if it's me."
He straightens a little, though his metal hand is still on the door. "You might not want to be friends. But there is nothing you can do that will make me not care about you."
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"You've never been able to keep people from hurting me," she says, low and harsh. He hadn't harmed any of the girls himself - but neither had he been able to stop the other trainers from doing so. Some small part of her mind, not drowning in dread and acidic fury, wonders, not for the first time, if his occasional disappearances, his occasional lapses in recall, had coincided with times he'd tried. "And you don't have to wait to fuck up for me to hate you."
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But this isn't back then. "I'm not a murder machine who doesn't know how to say no anymore," he says. "I'm awake and I'm a person and-- and you can hate me all you want. It won't make me stop caring. And it won't stop me from trying to get you out of here, and back to living."
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She clenches her teeth, hard enough to send a spike of pain radiating along her lower jaw, then chokes out, "How long? If I play your stupid Enclosure game, how much time will that buy me being left alone?"
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"Three days," he offers, ready and willing to take counter-offers if he has to.
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She doesn't expect to get it, but if she can get at least four, she should be able to steal enough snacks from the mess hall to replenish her stockpile and begin formulating a plan.
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Maybe that's half a joke. But he will do it. Give her some asset music to get more of the anger out with, maybe.
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"Four," she finally agrees. "And leaving me alone means you do not come here, you do not message me, you do not speak to me if we cross paths on this stupid ship, you do not send anyone to check in on me to get around that."
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But:
"Deal. But if you break our bargain, the clock starts over."
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The next sounds that come from inside the room are clearly that of a woman coaxing her young dog into her crate, against said dog's desire to greet the friend she can hear and smell on the other side of the door. And perhaps to get in a little extra playtime, in spite of only just having returned from the walk that is the entire reason Yelena'd actually been in her room to find in the first place, and not holed up in the one place on the ship a warden can't get to her.
Then silence. When she finally emerges, after a few minutes in total, it's dressed in workout clothes, with enough give to move but not enough to snag on anything, hair pinned up tight to her scalp.
He'd said he wasn't going to make her talk - and so she doesn't.
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He doesn't make her talk. He just settles in to walk beside her, tucking his hands in his pockets and keeping his eyes front rather than on her. He goes with stairs rather than elevator, because moving in silence is easier than standing in place in silence, even if it's a longer trip.
At the Enclosure he tells it, "Kamino Mobility Training Course Four."
The doors then open to an indoor obstacle course, a series of moving platforms, hanging bars and pendulums, things to climb and jump over and hit out of the way. Underneath the course is saltwater, something safe to fall into if you lose your grip or miss a jump. Everything is automated, and randomized, so you can't necessarily predict what's going to move where. There's a timer that can be set manually at the start, if you want to time your run, but the obstacles keep moving even without it.
It's B's favorite obstacle course, and where he goes when he's feeling stressed.
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He steps back to let her through. "Want me to leave you do it?" he says. "Or stay and spot for you?"
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"So you can stay."
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He just nods, and settles inside the doorway once it slides shut again. He folds his arms lightly, leans back, and lets her run.
Many of the obstacles are plastic, rubber, and cement, as much as if not more than metal. Or something like plastic, rubber, and cement, but futuristic versions of the same. Sci fi. This comes from a Star Wars universe, after all.
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