[05]

[decrypts]

[suffice it to say that a lot has been happening back home.

when york next appears on the plane, anyone that sees him will notice a rather drastic difference in his appearance. there's a long scar trailing down the left side of his face that looks still-fresh and tender, red around the very edges. and if one were to pay very close attention, they would notice that his left eye itself is cloudy-white.

he's lost ninety percent of vision out of that eye, and it's all due to a haphazardly-thrown in a training session that he'd volunteered for. of course, he hadn't been expecting to come out of it half-blind, but .. well, what're you gonna do? shit happens, and at the end of the day, sometimes .. grenades happen.

fucking grenades.

at first, he doesn't know where to go. something in the back of his mind says that he needs to find north, or south, or even wash - because they were all there when it happened, they'd seen what happened, and .. he just doesn't know where else to go. he supposes he could have talked to them back on the mother of invention, but as soon as they'd let him out of surgery, his first thought had been to come here.

it's getting more and more natural the more often it happens.

there's another part of him that says he needs to find jacqli, too - but he isn't exactly sure if that's the best idea. they may have unloaded on each other about some things in the past, but something like this .. he doesn't think she deserves to put up with him when he doesn't exactly know what to think about the situation as a whole.

as he most often does - or has, in the past - he finds himself drifting toward the bar, but he isn't sure he's going to actually drink. mostly, he .. hell, he doesn't even know. let's be honest, here.

he's just basically lost an eye due to a really stupid mistake, and .. and he ..

he wants to put his fist through a wall.

but for now .. he's going to walk.]

((ooc: totally forgot to mention this when i was typing it up last night AHA but this is york's canonbump to just after the grenade incident that leads to his eye injury. he's not very happy.))

Comments

[grip_on_reality]

[Menzies is in the bar when York arrives, idly drinking a pint with some of her everpresent paperwork spread out in front of her. she glances up when he enters and gives him a wry smile] Hullo, Agent.

[but before she can even make a joke or call him Montana again, she catches a glimpse of his face--and her eyes widen]

What the hell happened to you!?

[decrypts]

[at least she doesn't call him montana this time. but he has to comment on it.] What, I'm not Agent Uruguay this time?

[hey look he still has a sense of humor even though half of his face has been blown to hell! aces!] A grenade bit me.

[grip_on_reality]

[she scoffs, sliding easily into humour as a coping mechanism as well] More like Agent North Korea! That grenade must 'ave 'ad some teeth.

[as she's sitting close enough to do so, she grabs another glass] What do you want? What they've got on tap is blue, but the flavour's not bad, and the evidence so far suggests it's not poisonous.

[decrypts]

[humor is quite possibly the best defense mechanism he has, and he's not afraid to use it. quite frankly, he's been finding that he uses it quite often lately.] North Korea .. maybe that means I need to start getting better at martial arts. Coulda dodged that stupid grenade that way.

[but he's dropping down into a seat next to her, he rolls his shoulders in a shrug. blue has always been a good color for him - just ask him about blue popsicles sometime.] As long as it doesn't outright kill me, I don't really care what it is. So that sounds great to me.

[there's a beat of a pause, and he murmurs quietly under his breath:] Thanks, Menzies.

[grip_on_reality]

Either that or you should give tennis a go.

[she pours him a glass] Well, unless I'm dead and just 'aven't worked it out yet, I think I can promise that much. Here. [she sets it down in front of him] You should probably try it before you thank me. [and she takes another sip of her own drink because, seeing him up close, she needs it. even though she's keeping her usual wry tone and expression outwardly, inwardly she's a lot more concerned]

[decrypts]

.. Tennis. I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that.

[because men shouldn't play tennis. they should play grifball and beat the absolute shit out of each other and let that be it.

when she sets the glass down in front of him, his fingers curl around it instinctively, though he doesn't drink quite yet. he can tell there's something going on in that mind of hers, but he's more than come to realize that she's the type to keep it to herself when she thinks she can get away with it.

like another chick i know around here ..] No, I mean .. [thanks for giving a shit.

he does take a sip, though, and gives a small hum of approval as it goes down.] Never mind. S'good.

[grip_on_reality]

[she shrugs, smirking] Or volleyball.

Oh good. Didn't think my conscience could take it otherwise.

[after that comment, she lets silence stretch between them for a moment. she's debating what to ask because, while she doesn't want to rub salt in the wound, she definitely wants to know more. she's a detective, after all. when she does speak again, her tone is still carefully casual]

So, 'as your world got self-throwing grenades, or did your arch enemy Agent South Korea get involved?

[decrypts]

Volleyball's something I'd only be interested in if I were watching the ladies play. Because .. uh. Yeah.

[WAY TO PUT YOUR FOOT IN YOUR MOUTH, YORK.

don't listen to him, menzies. he's just being an idiot.

the question has him laughing, though. because south korea ..] Actually, I was in the middle of a training session with two other agents. We were going up against a new recruit, or some shit, and she .. kicked our asses three ways from Sunday. But then the Director allowed live ammo on the floor.

[grip_on_reality]

[she snorts, not impressed by the sentiment, but she's glad that he's relaxing at least] Nice to know you've got your priorities set.

[but she is even less impressed by his description of events. in fact, that sounds absolutely insane to her--which her expression shows clearly] Let me get this straight. This new recruit is beating three of you up, so your director decides, "Oh, let's add some carnage!" and throws live ammo out there so you get beat up permanently?

[decrypts]

Hey, I pride myself on it. [he'd wink, but he always winks with his left eye, and .. yeah, no, that hurts.

and he doesn't expect her to be at all pleased with what he says about the situation, but it's the truth.] I think they got the clearance for the live ammo before the round even started - and they just broke it out as a last resort. Like, she was really kicking our asses, and I kept telling them that we needed to work together if we wanted a snowball's chance in taking her down, but nooooo. [he shakes his head, waving his arms slightly in that dramatic fashion that is only ever york-tested, york-approved.] To be fair to her, though, I guess .. Maine was the one that threw the frag, and she side-stepped it without even trying. I'd .. uh .. already been knocked on my ass on the floor, and it just .. kinda landed next to my head.

[he pauses, thoughtful.] If she hadn't thought to shoot my armor up with that immobilizing paint, I'd probably be dead. Actually - [hold on, he's just going to drop from the plane for a second, and when he comes back, he's holding his old helmet, and he hands it to her.]

All things considered, she saved my damn life.

[grip_on_reality]

Yeah, I noticed. [she rolls her eyes]

[on the bright side, she thought he'd meant that the new recruit beating them up had suddenly had the opportunity to use life ammunition to do it. at least it wasn't that--not that his expanded story is much better]

[she gapes at his helmet, running a hand over it, and looks up at him in wonder] And you're sure you didn't die?

[because that is a legitimate question on the Plane. and wow, that is one ruined helmet. her tone is still one of shock as she mutters:] That's some luck you've got there, Agent Ireland...

[decrypts]

[he can no more blame tex for what happened than he could have stopped maine and wyoming from using the live ammo in the first place. no matter what he'd said, no matter how he'd tried to use reason with them - yeah, york using reason - nothing had worked, and he's pretty sure it would have happened either way.

he can't help but to snort at her question, though it isn't maliciously. not in the slightest.] Pretty sure, yeah. I know that dying feels like. And that .. even if it was pretty close, wasn't it.

[and he cracks a smile at that.] Luck's got a funny habit of always being on my side, I think.

[grip_on_reality]

[at his comment about dying, she gives him a slightly alarmed look and asks sharply:] And what do you mean by that?

[but she smirks back at him at his assessment of his luck, shaking her head] Yeah, well, just steer clear of anybody named Odysseus.

[decrypts]

[oh, right. she hadn't been there for that. WELL, HERE GOES NOTHING.

here's a guy about to talk about getting killed like it was no big thing at all. (because he's had time to let it sit and try to forget about it and even though he can't exactly let it go, there's nothing that's going to take it back so he might as well start getting over it.

have a shrug.] Christopher stabbed me through the eyes.

[and it's given over about as deadpan as something like that can be.] I still don't get how you can feel like killing somebody when you don't even know their real name. Maybe I'm just crazy.

[and that comment about odysseus goes right over his head. he never read any of that stuff. his loss.] They come here often?

[grip_on_reality]

[she stiffens at that, asking urgently:] Christopher? Red eyes, old-fashioned clothing, and fangs?

[sorry, York. she's too distracted to explain the Odysseus reference. in fact, her expression is now deadly serious]