[network] @ordo; audio; Night 185 [open] [cw: language]

[hangfire]

[The microphone crackles for a moment, Lutha struggling to get his tablet in place to speak properly. His voice is just as sullenly tired as usual, though his words have taken a sharp, cross tone.]

Oi. We need to talk.

Last I checked, there's over two dozen of us wandering around this nightmare trap by the museum. Still no food source. Shouldn't be a problem if we have that many people to go in and out, except getting rations takes time, and we can't just have two or three people working on it blindly. Yeah, I know, we just fucking talked about this, what, two weeks ago? But we need some better damn coordination than what we have right now or guess what? You'll all starve to death.

Look. If you're still stuck in this damn maze of tunnels, regardless of what the fuck you're doing, then say something here. We need a damn head count. If you don't want to say specifics about where exactly you are, then just don't. Not my business. I just need to know amounts.

If you're bothering to run rations for anyone in here, either say something here or just talk to me privately. How much you can carry and how fast you can get through this place without hurting yourself are key, and keep in fucking mind it takes almost an entire week to get from that museum to food and back.

[A pause. He lets out a tight breath, a muffled sound against the mic as he rubs at his face with his hand.]

And if you're even thinking to come over here to join the mess of people already crawling through here, use your head a little. Don't just add to the people that are already fighting for food unless you have someone around here to actually back you up reasonably.

Can we just fucking do that much? Alright? Sound easy enough?

[He doesn't answer that before the feed ends.]

Comments

private

[bywolves]

Good. Tell me when you've left the tunnels. We'll be on our way in that direction.

private

[redrooms]

I'll keep in touch.

@ordo; audio

[hangfire]

[Oh, right. He remembers this kid from a few days ago. The one with the crazy hat.]

Up to you, kid. Anything is better than nothing at all, so long as you don't get yourself killed.

[averytinyparticle]

Nah. I'm pretty good at staying alive.

[He's only died one time in 172 days, and he doesn't really consider it his own fault since the town was making him hallucinate and he didn't know where he was.]

I'm used to doing this kinda thing back home--scavenging, I mean. You can count on me!

[ACTION - for Frisk]

[ecks]

[Ecks has been watching Frisk off and on as Red Cat's surgery goes on. Hopefully they've gotten used enough to her intense, blank stares over previous encounters not to be unnerved by it.

When her hands are free, later in the evening, she approaches to sit by them and opens with the thought that's been on her mind.]

You should ask Doctor Watson for blood.

[despiteeverything]

[Truthfully they'd been half-drifting into a doze when Ecks stops by, eyes half-lidded. When she speaks they start and look up, confused and-]

Huh?

[Run that by them again?]

[hangfire]

[He's expecting more. At least something in lines of retaliation or defense. The fact that Clint goes down so quickly is horrifically unsatisfying, leaving him only with an ache in his knuckles.

No. No, he isn't better.

There's a third person in the room now, up in their space, but Lutha doesn't bother to meet the glance that he knows is behind the stern tone directed towards them. He's still glaring down Clint, the tiredness in his expression cracking into something far more unhealthy, frustration and fright and pain over the last few days having been bottled up far too much. Give him more than a cowardly retreat, goddamn it--

There's no waiting this time. His grimace twists with rage as he darts forward, throwing his fist at Clint again. It's not making a statement this time. It's just wild, physical motion, wanting the person in front of him to take the pain instead.]

[awwnoun]

[ Clint ignores the look Tony's giving him - he knows Tony's not going to get why Clint let Lutha do it. He can see the emotion and pain under the surface of Lutha's angry expression, knows exactly how it feels to be so angry it hurts, and he knows that sometimes punching the source of it is the only thing that helps.

But this time, Clint's not going to just let it happen to him. He's a little slower than normal, because he really is in sharp, aching pain all over, but he catches that fist, or at least tries to, wrenching it away. ]

You got one free punch. [ Clint tells Lutha, and then he looks up at Tony. Doing it leaves him open to another hit, but it's alright. ] It's okay, Tony, don't worry.

[definingfuture]

[He doesn't understand. At least, not as much as someone like Steve would. Tony doesn't like violence and would rather avoid it if possible. He likes to think of himself as high minded enough that there is always a different alternative, and even when there isn't, he can't let someone he knows just get punched like that. When Clint finally reacts, he does stop where he is, but he doesn't leave. He folds his arms and narrows his eyes at both of them.]

What is going on? [He's trusting Clint not to take another hit, but he saw that slow reaction and he is concerned whether Clint likes it or not.]

[ecks]

[Excitement! She hops back up and goes to her pack, bringing it back with her. Out come wads of stuffing, pieces of a red plush cat, and scraps of fur from at least four other toy animals. She pulls out her spool of fishing line, too, in case it is needed for sewing.

She really did a number on these animals. Most of Red Cat is present in a couple of big pieces, but there isn't enough to sew it back together without some chunks missing.

Ecks is silent, troubled as she looks at the carnage again.]

I killed all of them.

[ecks]

Doctor Watson thinks that putting healthy blood in a person who is not healthy will give the unhealthy person the healthy person's fortitude.

[That is not what Doctor Watson said. Doctor Watson actually attempted to explain to her, at length, that blood transfusions are not the same as grafting magic.]

[awwnoun]

It's okay. We'll bring them back. Kind of like how it is here, right?

[ Clint looks over the collection of torn up toy animals, trying to see where he needs to put things together. A beat. ]

I've got a bit of spare fabric I can use to put Red Cat back together, unless you want me to use some of the other animals for parts. [ A beat, and then almost reluctantly: ] I might need to take a break here and there with the sewing. My hands are giving me issues.

[ecks]

I did not take all of the parts of the others. I think it would be good to use the parts I took to fix Red Cat, but I am not sure if it will still be Red Cat or if it will be a new animal, like me.

[She's been thinking about this a lot. She already identified pretty hard with the stuffed animals, as House could attest.]

I can help sew. I used to help sometimes, before. I know how.

[awwnoun]

[ Clint pauses, looking up at her. ]

I think it'd be good to use the parts you took to fix Red Cat, too. Remember how we talked about Red Cat being an evolved version of what it was before? [ A beat. ] I think it might be good to have a buddy that reminds you of you.

[hangfire]

It's none of your goddamn business-- [It's a tight growl directed at Tony, but punctuated by the fact that he follows through the momentum of having his arm shoved away by jerking one of his legs up towards Clint instead, shoving his boot into the man's thigh.]

[despiteeverything]

Fortitude?

[Time for a context clues guess. Fortitude had a word like fort, and you had forts for... like a base? Being safe and protected? Protecting someone who was sick...]

Like... it'll help 'em feel better?

[Watson had mentioned something like that.]

[awwnoun]

[ Clint isn't quite expecting that, and it knocks him off balance. Clint stumbles back, and it's not the kick that hurts so much as the fact that he hits the wall pretty damn hard. The pain knocks the wind out of him, and he doubles over for a second, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from making noise.

His voice is strained when he speaks, even as he's bringing up hands to defend himself, should Lutha try to get him further. ]

Lutha is taking out his anger on me. [ Clint breathes out to Tony, sounding more tired than anything. ] Might as well just let him.

[haillenarte]

...

[francel is silent for a good long while. andersen isn't wrong... no, andersen isn't wrong at all, but it's strange to be given such level-headed advice after so many long weeks — so many long years of having no one to really offer him guidance.

it's kind of unsettling, honestly. it's like having a proper father show up twenty-two years too late.]

...I suppose...

[another long pause, and then francel adds, in a voice simultaneously defensive and prideful:]

...But as a wordsmith, Andersen, surely you can appreciate my ability to use his own words against him!

breaking the order here for an important addendum don't mind me

[hangfire]

[He hears the exhaustion, the crumpling of posture that he's far too familiar with, almost hesitating when he sees the hands fly up. Maybe he's injured. Possibly sick.

Not that really made it an excuse to be so complacent and passive. Not in Lutha's eyes. So he's taking another limping step to get right back into arm's reach of Clint, pushing for eye contact, purely seeking confrontation for the sake of it.]

How about you stop fucking cowering. [It's pushed through gritted teeth as he shoves at the upraised hands with his amputated arm, making to grab at Clint's collar with his other hand.]

[definingfuture]

[Tony is going to let Clint handle it, but Clint says to let Lutha at him and Lutha charges right on in, grabbing at Clint and showing no sign of stopping. So Tony steps in as well, pushing between them so he's standing in the way of Lutha's attempts to latch onto him.]

How about you calm down and stop trying to hit people? You got your one. That's enough.

fifty weeks later

[hangfire]

I don't care how I make myself look, old man. The long-eared wretch needs to grow a spine over less idiotic topics.

[awwnoun]

[ God, this kid just doesn't quit. And look, Clint's not going to let Lutha beat him up, and he can defend himself - but it doesn't stop him from being glad that Tony steps in. Clint shoves Lutha's hand away from his collar, trying not to let out the pained noises that want to escape.

Sharp shooting pain up his spine and down to his wrists have him quiet, closing his eyes for just a second to compose himself. ]

[hangfire]

[With a physical barrier now actually standing between Lutha and his emotional prey, the redhead's attention snaps right to Tony, fiery and indignant.]

Fuck off. You don't get to fucking decide that-- [It's louder than it should be, even with how tight his jaw is, but he's stopped caring. His entire body is already trembling with exertion, both physical and emotional, his fingers flexing stiffly against the empty holster at his belt as he shoots another wild-eyed look at Clint over Tony's shoulder.]

Is this your fucking answer, Clint? [The name is sharply pushed off his tongue.] Standing in the background and fucking hiding, backing down, letting other fucking people take up whatever mantle you have? Do you think this is fucking doing anything?

[definingfuture]

[Tony glares back, not moving from his chosen defensive spot. Sure, Clint can fight for himself, but that's not the point. He's tired of watching this kid lash out and rage at his friend. Whatever reason he might have, there's just no way he can let this continue.]

You're finished. You can argue later after you've cooled off, but right now you need to back off before I move you.

[He doesn't raise his voice. He keeps his words lower, because he doesn't really want to hurt Lutha or make the fight worse. But he stays blocking the way, keeping his eyes on the furious redhead.]