LOG: In Need of Assistance

[depthlesslock]

What: Meeting up and seeking help
Where: Common Ground coffee shop
When: 10/4 Noon
Warnings: None

York would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised that Delta had called him so soon to arrange to meet up again. That's three times in the last two weeks the man has called for company despite his insistence that he's a busy guy. Not that York's complaining, he enjoys Delta's company more each time they see each other, but he is surprised.

He's on time. Well, Delta seems to be making the effort, the least he can do is return the favor. Once he's inside, he removes his helmet and looks around. Common Ground is a good place, he's enjoyed it's coffee and food a fair few times, and of course it has the delicious, rich scent that comes with any good coffee shop.

Spotting Delta, he weaves through the tables towards him and sits down in the chair on the other side of the table, smiling. 'Hey there.'

Comments

[protective_logic]

Delta shrugged. Not exactly 'common' sense. "Thank you for this. I just need... to think."

[depthlesslock]

'No worries, D. You've got a lot to think about.' Some of which is his fault. 'Want me to go get us drinks?'

[protective_logic]

"Please," Delta agreed, tucking the duffel in under his legs. "I spent a lot of time thinking, planning, you may have thrown a bit of a wrench in my plans."

[depthlesslock]

'Yeah, sorry about that,' he says ruefully, rubbing the back of his neck. 'What juice do you want? Or they do things like lemonade if you'd rather have that.'

[protective_logic]

"It doesn't matter," Delta admits. "Provided there is no spice, I'll be fine with whatever they bring."

[depthlesslock]

'You got it.' He makes his way over to the bar and orders an orange juice for Delta and a lemonade from himself, then heads back. No alcohol, no need to make Delta any more anxious.

[protective_logic]

Which Delta clearly is, seeing as he's playing with his thumbs. Hasn't gotten to chewing at his nails yet, but god he misses his hair to toy with. At last he pulls his helmet off and sets it aside. He needed to figure this out.

[depthlesslock]

York sits down again and watches Delta carefully, notcing the fiddling. For once, he doesn't say anything yet, the last time he did, he made things worse.

[protective_logic]

"Why even tell me?" Delta asks, not looking up. "Why even do it?"

[depthlesslock]

With a sigh, York runs one hand through his hair. 'I don't know,' he admits. 'I guess I just thought it would be better than you finding out in the middle of this mess. Honestly, it was a bit of a snap decision.'

[protective_logic]

"Yeah, you could have judged that better," Delta sighs. "Now... I don't even know what to do. Trusting you, being with you, it would be hypocritical."

[depthlesslock]

'I've been known to speak before I think,' he says, smiling sheepishly. 'There's a difference between what Maine's doing and what I'm doing.'

[protective_logic]

"People still die because of you, don't they?"

[depthlesslock]

'Sometimes.' No getting around it. 'I try to avoid it.'

[protective_logic]

"But you don't, really," Delta counters. "People die because you shoot them, right?"

[depthlesslock]

'You don't have to be a merc to kill someone by shooting them,' he says. 'Yes, sometimes, they die. But when I can, I just knock them out or injure them enough to leave me alone. I don't like killing, D. Sometimes it happens, and I usually hate it, but I don't get hired to take someone out like most mercs do.'

[protective_logic]

"Just steal people's hard earned money and their work and..." Delta shakes his head. He's not being fair. He doesn't know what's going on. Nor does he understand Omega, but he's pretty certain York isn't helping to support a family of eight, so in a way it's different.

[depthlesslock]

'I wouldn't do that,' he defends, jaw tight because he wouldn't even be in Gulch if he'd agreed to steal from those who couldn't afford to lose anything. 'I'm picky about the jobs I take. A lot of us are in my group. We don't just go shooting random people in the street because we got told and paid to. There needs to be a good reason.'

[protective_logic]

That... can mercenaries even afford to be picky like that?

"How does it work?" Delta asks quietly. "And why are you this rather than a locksmith?"

[depthlesslock]

This isn't particularly where he wanted the conversation to go, but if it'll help Delta understand, he can explain a few things.

'Some mercs do it differently, but for me; potential clients get in contact or let me know they want my services, then we meet up and lay out what they want and discuss the terms of it, including the price. Usually I'll accept or reject the job there, but sometimes I have to think about it and then get back to them.'

The next question is harder and York's fingers start tracing locks on the tabletop as he thinks. 'I've been stealing longer than I've been a locksmith,' he admits after a long moment. 'And I've always been better and enjoyed getting past locks more than making them. Plus the last time I was a locksmith... didn't end so well.'

[protective_logic]

There is something in his voice that keeps Delta from asking for more information. He knows dark pasts, and he's starting to figure that York has it himself.

"I'm... guessing your work is how you lost your vision."

[depthlesslock]

He looks down, then back up again, hands clenched against the urge to rub his eye now he's selfconscious about it again.

'You'd be right in that guess.'

[protective_logic]

"I'm really sorry to hear that," Delta sighs. "But that is... part of what I fear for Omega, if you'd understand it."

[depthlesslock]

'Of course I understand,' he says. 'This side of it fucking sucks, I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Maine understands that, I can try to talk to him about it.'

[protective_logic]

"It won't matter," Daniel sighs. "You don't know him. He'll see it as an easy way out of our position."