2013.07.20 - Win for the blue team

When the demons are away...

Domino's tired of being tracked. Her phone's become a digital leash for the likes of SHIELD lately, used in tandem with other high and low tech equipment to keep tabs on her way more often than she would like. So, she shut her phone off. Completely off the grid. She took her bike, covered dead ground within the city and finally feels confident enough that she's lost her geo-synchronous orbital tail. Even her safehouses have been compromised, not something which she is happy about.

Kurt's boat, as far as she's aware, is still grey territory. Plus it's got a place belowdeck where she can hide her bike. It's here that she camps out, tucked away from sight on the waves of the New York harbor. Spread out across the smaller kitchen table are (some of) her guns, in various states of disassembly. Some pieces are clean. Some are to be cleaned. Some are in the process of being cleaned.

The bourbon sitting nearby, that's entirely for her.

Kurt shouldn't mind. She'll be long gone by the time he gets back from Genosha, anyway.

The first place Kurt comes home to is, of course, the Majestic. It's not a distanct second, to say the least, that the elf returns to the Blue Rover. It's not home until he can see her masts, the spars.. and feel the rolling of the water as it supports his fine vessel.

Bamf!

Appearing on the deck from seemingly nowhere (Midtown Manhattan, to be precise), the elf lands on his captain's chair, perching. He's home!

It's one more rapid bamf that brings him to the main mast, halfway up to check the lines. There had been storms, and he'd not taken all the precautions of battening her down.

Thankfully, all looks in order before that last bamf brings him belowdecks to the navigation area where the GPS and all necessary ocean-going equipment lies. It takes him a moment before he realizes there is, indeed, someone else here.

It's in that split second that he bamfs once again, landing in the galley.

His expression is mixed- both delight to see her, and clouding in the memory of when they last spoke. "Mi casa es su casa.. or something like that." But, he's told her that before! Just good to know she's come.

Bamf..? Uh oh. Dom knows when she's not alone. Granted, there are much worse people that could have dropped in on her out here, buuut...

She still isn't expecting this. Nor would he be expecting her. Just follow the succulent smell of Hoppe's #9.

By the time Kurt does find her she's sitting rigid behind the table, hunched forward on elbows with a bore brush seemingly stuck halfway through the barrel of one of her pistols. Her usual tall boots are now slung over a pair of clingy black jeans, though the black sports bra up top leaves lots of skin, and almost all of her recent injuries, wide open.

Kurt is not supposed to be here today. She wanted the downtime, a chance to let her myriad of wounds breathe without the armor getting in the way.

Pale, empty blue eyes stare back at Kurt, perhaps a bit wider than their norm. "Hi..!"

It takes a long moment for the entire tableau to form before Kurt's eyes. The bore brush frozen in time for a brief moment, those blue eyes wide in surprise. It is only a heartbeat of time that passes before he takes in the fact that Domino is .. comfortably clad for the heat of the- no, check that. Injuries that need airing in order to help their healing.

It's that first, of course, that causes the elf's shoulders to slump. His expression is one of concern, and in response to that 'hi', he has to take a deep breath to settle all those thoughts flying around in that blue fuzzy head of his.

"I'm home."

How's that for obvious?

"I'm glad you're here."

Kurt hasn't yet come to sit beside her, to stand and fuss over her like a mother hen. He's got a lot to talk about with her. And soon.

His tail dips a little, and Kurt, for one of the first times, actually looks a little awkward. It's not guilt, certainly. But, his weight shifts from foot too foot before he lets himself advance towards her. "You look like you've been.. busy."

Without moving a muscle, Domino nonchalantly replies "I can see that."

Very definitely awkward. And it shouldn't be, these two have gotten to be plenty close over the last few months. So..why is it so strained now?

That would be the fault of most recent history, of which much, if not all, of the blame falls upon slender white shoulders.

"Likewise." Hell, this is the first time in weeks she's laid eyes upon a friendly soul. What's she supposed to say in a situation like this, don't worry? He will. Don't hate me? She won't ask forgiveness from anyone, nor does she want it.

Her best bet is to fall back to the tried and true habits. "Drink?"

Finally the bore brush starts to move again, dozens of thin bronze wires scraping along the inside of a cold hammer forged barrel. Now, in this atmosphere, it almost sounds aggressive to her own ears.

No, it shouldn't be awkward, and Kurt can point to the very moment it did.

China.

Interrogation.

As much as he'd wanted to, prayed to, Kurt simply couldn't get through again. He'd thought about it, prayed about it.. and he's still surprised that he's still got fur on his kneecaps as a result.

And then there was Genosha. Again, how he wished he could call his friend, but again? Time's passing, and what could possibly be said? This is a case when time does not heal all wounds.

Kurt finishes closing the distance and perches on a chair at the table, shifting one of the now clean guns a little out of the way so he can lean. There is that moment when he wishes he could be a telepath, to understand all without saying a word. To truly understand.

Not happening, however.

"Ja, danke," he ends up saying rather than everything else that is battling for primacy. Slowly, that brush begins to clean again, and his gaze settles down to the work of her hands. Reaching backwards with his tail, it catches on a glass, and when the glass is settled, Kurt exhales again.

"What happened?"

The catchall question.

And there it is.

One of Domino's guns gets moved.

She eyes it for a full second before she reaches over and adjusts it, just slightly, so that it's at least passably out of order in her eyes. There's that bit of unpleasantness out of the way.

"Business as usual," Domino flatly replies to the lone question, slowly and methodically breaking up all of the carbon from the rifling of the barrel in her hand. How could she explain any of this to the guy..? That she's not really a bad person?

(Yes, you are.)

That she had no choice?

(Yes, you did.)

That she doesn't enjoy doing what she has to do?

(Yes, you do.)

Nonchalance rules the day. "How was Genosha?"

Scrrrraaaaaape...

There's something that makes the fur rise on the back of Kurt's neck. It's nothing that he can really put one of his three fingers on, but it's been at least enough time with this woman to know something, just something is off. What? It's a mystery. How? Even moreso. Why? The elf runs a very good chance on the merc playing her conversation stopping card, 'Just drop it', and he knows it.

But this is important.

"Business as usual doesn't mean you call me like you did, liebling." Now, he wants her to be sure that in terms of that, there is no question as to his affections. "While I can freely admit that you do run the very real risk of injury because I've seen it before? There's something more."

To push the question home, to make his point, Kurt does answer her question regarding Genosha. "I got access to their Humanity First records. I have more trips planned now. China." That one is stressed before the others come. "Indonesia. Africa. Ukraine.."

Domino's not giving in that easily. When The Call is mentioned she glances up his way once more, not skipping a beat when she asks "Was any of that information useful to you?"

(Hope so, 'cause that source is a little dry these days.)

Not another word is said from the albino's end. She probably doesn't have to. When 'China' comes up the motion of her brush stops. Just for a moment. "Are you thinking of going back there?" There's always something more going on with her. There's no single person alive that knows all of what's going on with her at any given moment, sometimes not even herself. But, ends still meet. Though the way things are going now she may well end up reaching for her shirt and guns sooner rather than later.

She's not going to have this discussion. Kurt's got one shot at this. Either he knows her well enough by now that it won't be an issue or she'll find somewhere else to detail her firearms. And get completely hammered.

No, Domino isn't giving in that easily. There are a whole manner of different ways to approach the merc; at least that work for him, or has in the past. Kurt has no clue as to what works for others. If anything, really.

He's silent for a few long moments, but that doesn't mean that his head isn't spinning, his thoughts racing at the speed of light. Again, there is so much he wants to say, to ask.. to do. Yet not one thing finds voice, or action. Instead, he sits, his tail swaying now. Reaching for the bottle, he pours three fingers worth into his glass.

"Ja. It was, actually. I'm getting closer to identifying the business. In order to work out which one it is, I will do a little research. I am leaning towards one than another, simply because Humanity First had a stake in it."

The drink is knocked back, and placing the glass on the table, the elf's words are little more than a whisper. "What was his name?"

There's an uneasy calm in Domino. There's the aura of tension, that feeling of tiptoeing through a minefield where one tiny nudge in any direction could start a chain reaction that would forever reshape something held dear into something which can no longer be recognized.

On the outside she looks fine. Composed. Almost relaxed. Nothing in the world is out of place.

With the silence that follows between the two there's nothing more than the soft clink of metal and the grinding of bronze against steel.

When Kurt's voice returns she gently nods in understanding, though her eyes stay on her work. "Good. Sounds like you've got things under control there."

The soft sound of an empty glass falling upon the wooden table. A voice, even softer in tone.

A question.

Domino's hands stop. Muscles within the back of her shoulders grow tense. That icy stare jumps away from her work, attempting to spear those soft yellow ones like a pair of harpoons. Her response is short, curt, and very much not a request.

"Don't."

Kurt's just found one of those landmines.

Sometimes it's easy to forget that Kurt is a soldier in this covert war. He doesn't care for confrontation; not in the least. But there are times when it must be done, for the good of the soul. It's not always pretty, however, and there are a number of hazards.

They say that the opposite of love is not hate. It's ambivalence. The complete, utter lack of caring. Hate requires that one must care.

Anger means that one must care, or ambivalence takes over.

In order to discover what is below that seemingly calm exterior, one must toss a rock on the minefield. Deliberately.

"Don't."

The word actually brings a smile to the elf's face, though it's a sad one. A million inferences can be gained from that one word. Something happened, and she's not happy with herself? She doesn't want to remember? She doesn't want him to know exactly what happened?

There's no ambivalence.

And with that, Kurt lets out a held breath; one that he didn't actually realize he was holding. Another drink is poured, three fingers, and this time, it's passed to Domino.

There Domino sits. And waits. Watching Kurt like a pale white hawk. The line had been drawn and then it had been crossed.

His reaction is not what she would be expecting. It's enough to bring back Mister Cheng's reaction when she had merely grinned at him. 'You crazy bitch.' She just told him more than she meant to without realizing it.

Point to him. There's hope for the fuzzy little bastard, yet.

When the drink is offered she promptly swipes the glass from the table and downs a third of it before switching back to the barrel. The brush gets set aside, switching over to lightly oiled patches.

Part of her wants to give some sign that she does still care. 'One question.' About anything. One question asked, one answer given. Honest. But, she won't allow herself to say those words. This is her business and hers alone. If she doesn't respect her own boundaries, how will anyone else?

Another silent glance is passed back to the dark blue mutant, her expression still hardened. "If this is how our conversation is going to go, I'm gone."

Kurt's bright yellow featureless eyes look back at those blue, those yellow orbs easily seen in the almost constant shadow of his face. There are a few people in his life where he pushes that line, but not necessarily to his benefit, no. Nothing is selfishly done. Not everyone can claim that, however. Domino isn't the only one, but she is in the select group. Lucky her. The taking of the drink is acknowledgment enough for him, and he cants his head as she starts work on the next bit.

"I am not conceited enough to believe that when you leave, you will be back soon, liebling. I am content in knowing, however, that you do come to something that is ours when you need to relax."

Now, perhaps to accent that, the elf actually gains his feet. Not that he has to if he bamfs.

"I will not take that from you ever. I would rather leave first to give you that peace you were searching for."

K-chink.

"I'm not throwing you out of your own boat," Domino replies in a less than cheerful demeanor.

K-tik.

"Respect my space. No questions about where I've been or what I've been doing. It's in the past, we're all moving on."

(And SHIELD's got my fucking back up against the wall.)

Tik-Klik.

"And don't worry about it. There isn't anything that can be taken away from me."

Tik!

A fully assembled pistol gets set aside, neat and tidy and perfectly aligned with its kin. Back to the glass she goes, downing another third of it before she slumps back into the tiny booth seat. In that moment she doesn't bother with eye contact, looking more tired than livid. She's been through a lot, but that's only for her to know.

"You would not be throwing me out. I would be making certain you had the time to relax." Kurt climbs back onto his chair and perches, his forearms resting upon his knees as he quirks his head. "That means a great deal to me."

See? Giving her space. Smart ass.

Dipping his head, those yellow eyes search those ice blues, and he reaches out after she downs some of the alcohol, though he stops and withdraws his hand. "You must possess something for it to be taken away," he softly reminds. "You have much, und I shan't let anyone take what it is you do have."

Now, Kurt could go on about how the things he does possess are fleeting, except for his conviction and his beliefs. But, that would be tossing yet another stone in the minefield. And there's no reason to continue there. There, in pain, sits a woman for whom he cares greatly.

"You are weary, liebling. Let me give you rest," he whispers, empty of sly flirting. It's compassion without pity. It's genuine.. affection. Now, he teleports from his seat to the tiny booth seat, and his tail moves to wrap around her waist.

Domino watches that approaching hand in silence, well past when it decides to retreat. Part of her wants to explain how anything, everything that she has is disposable, that every aspect of her life could be thrown out, burnt to slag, destroyed, and permanently removed and she could have herself back up and running in less than three days flat. She wants to, but she knows that isn't nearly as true as she wants it to be.

Not anymore.

(Goddamn you, Kurt. Because I really needed a liability in my life.)

With the offer of rest she leans forward once more, emptying her glass and setting it aside even as she reaches for another weapon to clean. "I'm fine. Got things that need doing." Not that she physically tries to push him away. It remains nothing more than a verbal defense.

She couldn't have been back all that long. She looks (and practically sounds) like hell. Yet, she's gearing up to be minutes away from throwing herself right back into the fire. Who knows what might happen if she ever allowed herself to slow down?

The tail does find itself around her waist. If asked, Kurt will always maintain that it has a mind of its own. Always has, always will.

As she moves forward, Kurt does as well, moving the now cleaned gun a little more to the side such that he can lean, now in her personal space, unless he's pushed away. But, it seems to him, for the moment, that she'll allow it.

"Warum, liebling?"

Kurt's noticed that some of the guns are as of yet not clean, which means she's not doing her OCD dance of 'which gun do I choose'. This is cleaning after use, with, potentially, a touch of 'what do I use next?'.

His words are still quiet, whispers against her flesh. "Why are you pushing yourself, liebling? Please. Let me take you to bed, und I will guard your dreams. Und clean your wounds again."

Again..with the moving of her guns..!

Domino's jaw tenses, eyeing the errant motion of that hand from the edge of her vision. With a frustrated motion a ghostly white hand darts out, grabbing the gun then putting it somewhere else. On the other side of the table.

So much for curbing her impulse control, there. She's too stressed to let the little things slide.

"What you consider 'pushing' I consider a normal day," she counters in a flat tone, having the next gun emptied and cleared of rounds in a practiced blur of motions. Complete with swiping the ejected bullet out of the air, standing it upright on the table with a decisive thunk.

(Is that rust? Goddamnit! Musta missed some of the salt water.)

"You're like a mother hen sometimes, Blue," she finally says with another look passed his way, now from the side. She still sounds snippy, wholly peeved. But, at least she's starting to talk to the guy more like she normally used to.

"Nein. Pushing is when you use your body to the point where you are going to pass out if you do not relax. Pushing is my taking a passenger over 300 miles. I do not do it because it will cause both myself und my passenger concern." Now there's an understatement. "You are weary, liebling. Heart. Mind. Body." Kurt smiles and his tones tease gently, "Lately I have been Father Wagner. Ministering to those who are weary und need rest." Again, however, Kurt gestures towards the table again, his brows rising in gentle question. "What are you preparing for, liebling?"

To that, Dom rolls her eyes. "Christ, Kurt... I know my limits, okay? Weary, angry, happy, uppity, whatever the fuck. It happens, I'm not the world's most level-headed person. You might have noticed this by now."

Two hands come together then come apart, this time each holding half of a pistol.

"Well, 'Father,' I'm not half as weary as I'm going to be by this time tomorrow. Unless you're going to put a gun to my head and force me to sleep, I'm a big girl. I can handle my own needs."

"Hell, what am I not preparing for?" It's followed by a quick pause where she puts the two pieces down and promptly holds her empty hands up in a 'hold it' gesture, "Look. If you're thinking I'm going to rush out there and wage another street war then knock it off right now. I like having clean gear. I haven't had a chance to get to this any sooner. It needs doing."

To that she nabs one of the pieces, sub-divides it into five more pieces, then reaches for the brush.

Kurt considers her words for a moment, and a smile creeps up, as well as his tail shifting its position to rest upon the side of her temple. "I don't have a gun, but I do have a tail, und I'm not afraid to use it."

He considers a moment and leans upon the table, now touching another gun, spinning it around a little, but careful to keep the muzzle pointed away from them. (Not stupid.) "What is happening tomorrow, liebling?"

Yellow eyes lift to that pale face, and he clears his throat, his fingers bouncing to underscore the words that follow, "'I'm not half as weary as I'm going to be by this time tomorrow'." Just in case she was too tired to know quite how she's forming sentences.

"Of course you rush out, liebling. It's your gift. It is your curse. It is what makes you special."

And one of the many things he loves about her.

It's almost an absurd thing to say, 'I don't have a gun.' They're sitting behind a table that's currently full of them.

Now there's a tail against the side of her head. That..actually gets a smirk out of her. "Well you can't borrow one of mine."

Handling one seems to be okay, however. It still seems weird to her, watching this guy toying with a firearm. It's so distinctly not him. Like..watching a kid's cartoon where they all turn cannibalistic on each other. The brain has difficulty processing that kind of image.

"Nothing, so far."

Then the sentence is repeated back to her. (I'm not half as--) "Oh shut up," she grumbles while reaching for the bottle of bourbon to refill her glass. "Depends on what's on the menu tonight. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Right now, I have nothing planned. This," she says while meaningfully picking up another hunk of sidearm with the brush ready to go in the other, "is my downtime."

"Right. 'Does not share well with others.'," Kurt quips, and he drops his tail such that it simply hangs upon her shoulder. "Of course I don't have a gun. I have swords."

It's true, however. The fuzzy blue elf and guns are not something that seem to go together well. He'd be more apt to use it as a club rather than a firearm. Unless, of course, he had need.

"Menu.." Kurt begins slowly, deliberately, "Didn't I say that I was going to put you to bed und guard your sleep?" A light shrug comes, and he simply can't help himself. "If you would like, I can make dinner first. Something to go with that." Gesturing towards the bourbon, he shifts his jaw and rises from his spot, reaching for the bottle. "I may cook with it."

"Not when there's any question as to which direction the toys are going to end up turning," Dom adds to the commentary. "Good. I didn't bring mine along today."

Clubbing is a legitimate strategy.

"Yeah, but I didn't--" she starts in then cuts herself off, groaning softly as her arms fold together and her forehead slowly drops down upon the intertwined limbs. "I give up. I'm too tired for this shit." Up to the next stage of denial, already. "You wanna burn your time being bored watching me sleep, fine. Whatever does it for ya."

It's an easy victory for Kurt, but it still counts as a win.

"Soon as I wake up you're not to get in my way, got it? And no slipping me pills."

Win for the blue team!

He watches as she raises the white flag, as it were, and the smile draws across his face, showing fang. The tail that is draped over her shoulders acts as that point of contact, and suddenly,

Bamf!

The pair land in the master bedroom of the boat, and he's got her in a cradle carry on top of the bed, ready to drop her. "It is never boring guarding your sleep, liebling." Now, he's ready to tuck her in, gently, but with determination. "Sweetest of dreams."

What..?

"Wait--"

Bamf!

"--I didn't mean now!" Domino snaps at the indigo elf, practically trying to squirm out of his hold in the direction of the table. The table with all of her gear strewn out upon it.

Unfinished.

"Do you know when I last slept without a gun being in reach?" she protests as if it were a matter of life and death. "Two thousand six! Would you fucking drop--"

Whump!

She's barely finished bouncing from impact when she's back to glaring at the guy. "You suck."

Don't think this one's over with...