evite | ✈ open post 2kforever

Yes.

[ she does. it's always the same. top floors, usually, big conference rooms or lounges with wide windows. easy to spot if daisy goes off, if her quakes get the better of her in a meeting. most people come aware of what she can do, if not told outright by her mother. it's usually a threat. never a compliment or spoken in pride. always as an asset, a tool. a weapon.

daisy hates it.

but his question surprises her, and so rather than head inside and ride the elevator, she stops for a moment, a small furrow of her brow as she peers up at him. ]

Are you not coming?

[ she doesn't like the idea of going in alone. she can, she knows that much, but ... she doesn't want to. maybe his presence is reassuring. maybe his glares prevent people from being too dickish in his vicinity. maybe it's just that when he sees how boring and miserable these meetings are, he's more likely to let her do whatever she wants afterwards.

but she doesn't want to go in alone, and so she's surprised he's willing to let her. ]

A request has been made that I stay outside. There is a plenty of security that will keep an eye on you while you're inside.

[ it wasn't his first choice but a direct order from his employers was something he couldn't really go against. he leans against the car, arms crossed. ]

I thought you'd be happy about that. You can go wherever you want in there as long as you get to your meeting in time. Enjoy the snack machines or go to the gift shop.

[ he shrugs. ]

I will be here.

[ there may be security, but it's not hers. it's foreign security, intended to prevent her from doing something to them, watching her like a hawk and cataloging her every expression. as if their stooges could stop her if she wanted to bring the building down. ]

I'm not a child. I don't need to buy myself a toy before visiting the doctor. [ anymore. ] Having no security of our own is stupid.

[ risky, foolish. tactically impractical. ]

You should come with me.

[ she doesn't like the sound of this meeting. no food, sent in alone; it sounds more like a firing squad than a diplomatic mission, and she's wary. ]

You'll come with me.

[ that's an order. ]

You twist absolutely everything I say.

[ no matter what, no matter if he was trying to allow her some freedom, she always saw it as something bad, an affront of some kind. ]

That is not my assignment.

[ truth be told, he doesn't necessarily like sending her in there on her own either. it takes his eyes off of her and leaves her at the mercy of people he hasn't vetted. he can't help her if something does go wrong.

but he can't go against a direct order either. ]

I have my orders.

I'm your assignment. Not this car.

[ she doesn't normally point that out. that his job is literally to keep her alive — not to chauffeur her around the city or fetch her dry-cleaning, not to play secretary and personal assistant to her like she's a spoiled heiress, but to save her life if things call for it.

maybe they won't.

but she isn't willing to go in there alone, and so on this she'll put her foot down. ]

If you won't come with me, I'm not going. You'll have to drag me up there.

[ so stubborn. so incredibly stubborn. he sighs and rubs his brow before pushing away from the vehicle. ]

Come on.

[ he'll explain the situation to those that ordered him to stay outside and take whatever reprimand they decide to give him. he thinks that getting her to where she needs to be is more important than following orders precisely. ]

Let's go. [ stop dawdling. ] I don't want you to be late.

[ that would be bad. ]

Thank you.

[ begrudgingly given, but she lets him guide her in, his hand on her back as they cross through the lobby. unlike an embassy or a privately owned business center, the security desk is polite as they pass, gentle greetings that daisy only acknowledges with a small tip of her head.

the elevator itself is quiet. it's mid-morning, there aren't many people milling about, but it feels off. too quiet. ]

Who is this meeting with again?

[ she should know, but he gets all the briefings. she just goes where she's told. ]

[ it did feel a little quiet for his tastes. that's not necessarily a bad thing, it could just be a slow morning but still. the feeling was there, crawling up the back of his neck. ]

Weapons manufacturers. They have a prototype they want your mother to look at. To try and sell her on it. I assume you are there to show that she doesn't need something like that so the price should be lowered.

[ that was more opinion than fact. his guess. ]

It'll go fast. Just relax while you're in there.

We don't need them.

[ weapons? daisy's nose wrinkles in distaste. her mother never arranged weapons purchases from outsiders — she exclusively used inhumans to fuel and fund her wars, from those with offensive capabilities to those able to claim weapon stockpiles from war zones and army stockpiles and the rare private reserves. ]

You'll come in with me?

[ this, though, is not an order. it's a quiet request made as they cross out of the elevator, heading towards the double frosted glass doors that mark the entrance to the conference room.

without meaning to, daisy moves a little closer; her steps bring her towards him, crossing the plaza sideways until her hand brushes against his own. nerves leave her a little shaky, but she's too stubborn to outright admit it. ]

Perhaps something has changed. That is what was in the briefing. I don't ask questions.

[ a lot of what he reason was way beyond his comprehension level anyway but he's also not really allowed to have an opinion. he has them but he keeps them to himself so as not to anger those that pay him. ]

Yes.

[ she's not usually this nervous about these meetings. usually, she is all brashness and bluster but something about this is throwing her off. he nods and just barely resists the urge to touch his fingers to hers.

he can't do that but what he can do is not move his hand away at least. ]

It will be fine. Take a few breaths before we go inside.

[ she breathes, but it doesn't seem to help. it just makes her more aware of the environment they're in, of his presence so close to her own, the quiet of the floor, the muted chatter of people on the other side of the doors. how dread and foreboding suddenly seize up in her chest as her hands lift to push open the door.

the sight of six men, all darkly dressed, seated around the table doesn't set her at ease. neither does the crate set ominously in the middle, all ribbed and padlocked. weapons sellers don't usually cart dangerous goods. they send pictures or bring drives, but the more valuable the merchandise, the less likely it is to be brought to discussions like this one.

daisy immediately wants out. ]

What the hell is the idea here?

[ possibly the wrong thing to say, judging by the way they reach for their hips. very possibly wrong, given the way their expressions darken. absolutely wrong, if the way a man stationed by the door moves to block them. ]

Does this look fine to you?

[ because, illya, it sure as hell does not look fine to her. ]

Shut up.

[ because no, it does not look fine to him but he can't really argue with you right now.

he grabs for her arm, fingers curling around it in a near death grip and pulls her behind him, using his own body as a shield. there's a gun at his hip but he doesn't reach for it yet.

instead, he grabs for one of the spare chairs and swings it towards the man at the door, connecting just enough that he stumbles out of the way. that's the only opening he needs before he shoves her out the door. he lets her arm go and yanks the doors shut, shoving a broken piece of wood through the handles to keep them detained for a bit. ]

Keep your mouth shut and do as I say. [ usually, he'll let her whine and nag and complain but not right now. right now, he needs to think and she needs to listen. he retakes her arm and starts walking, pulling his weapon from its holster and hurrying them towards the elevator.

behind him, he hears the wood splinter which means those men are going to spill out. sorry daisy but you're getting bodily shoved into the elevator and he blocks the doors, using his size to take up the space until the doors close. ]

They're going to think we'll go to the ground level. We're not.

[ he smacks the button for the second floor and tries to remember the height between the windows and the ground. might need to jump. ]

[ she'll shut up for now, but just for now. just for today. tomorrow, and every day thereafter, she'll remind him of how much he tried to push her to go into something she didn't want to do. how he'd forced her to blow past her own instincts, alone, unguarded. what would have happened to her had he not been there? would she have been able to move that quickly?

she doesn't know, but she doesn't want to know. she wants to see the doors close behind his body, and when they do, she pulls him forward by the lapels of his jacket, hard enough that they both stumble backwards into the back wall. ]

We could go to the roof.

[ she could get them down. she could keep them up. if he lets her, she can be useful for more than just prearranged meetings and being on display. ]

Let go of me.

[ maybe in another instance, this would be something he actually enjoys but with the unknown right outside of this elevator, he really can't allow himself to focus on that right now. it would be a disservice to her and what he was hired to do.

even if he is really pissed off at how this went down. what kind of person sets someone up like this? there had to be some kind of explanation. ]

We're not going to the roof. [ it would cut off any route of escape save for the one where she had to expose herself so publicly. she wasn't a secret but still. ] I can get us out of here.

[ hopefully. ]

Then don't stand in the doors.

[ she's not — addressing it. neither of them are addressing it. the fact that the momentary closeness had felt. good? reassuring? they're not talking about it, so they don't need to know what it felt like.

he's stupid and stood in the threshold while the doors were trying to close, so she pulled him out of the way. if it bumped him up against her, so be it. she wasn't going to talk about it. ]

You think jumping out of a window a full story is better? [ no, it's equally risky. she's going to have to do the same thing, unless he happens to know of a nearby mattress truck with an open roof or some other convenient way to break their fall. ] With what, your parachute?

Are you going to question everything I do? It doesn't help anything.

[ and it was making it hard to think. he doesn't want to jump out of any windows but sometimes, you had to do things to make sure you were able to live to see another day. he paces a bit, watching the numbers on the elevator descend. ]

The car is still out front but that'll be either watched or rigged. We can't use it. There'll be fire escapes outside the rooms with views. We can use those and I'll find a car.

[ there. plan. ]

Are you going to assume I'm useless and can't fend for myself?

[ aka, yes, she's going to question you, because she's annoying and headstrong and desperate to claw back some modicum of control while her world spins under her feet. ]

I can't believe I cancelled a Netflix marathon for this shit.

[ JUST LET HER LIVE, UNIVERSE. preferably without assassination attempts or whatever the shit that was!!! ]

When we've made it out of this, I'll be sure to put in my resignation since you know better than I do.

[ it's a tense situation and this is not helping. the dinging of the elevator pulls him out of his irritation and he grabs her arm, pulling her out with him and moving carefully against the wall. ]

Be quiet.

[ he whispers the words and even puts a damn finger to his lips like that'll make her listen. all they had to do was get to an empty room, find a fire escape and leave. ]

If you're going to quit, just go.

[ something triggers in her, something hurt and wounded and raw, the memory of all the people who have left or turned their backs or disappeared in her life. her father, her tutors, what passed as friends in her childhood. her world got smaller and smaller until all that was left was daisy and her mother and whatever poor soul happened to be tasked with keeping watch on her that day.

something triggers in her, and she realizes she doesn't want to be left behind. if someone's going to leave, it's because she makes them. so when he pulls her out and wraps his hand around her arm, daisy yanks it back, out of his grip and his reach, and turns to go the other way. let them catch her, what did he care? at least he'd save his own arrogant skin. ]

Fuck you.

[ #adult.

she pushes open the door to the stairwell and begins the climb up. she'll take the roof. he can do whatever he wants. ]

[ oh my god, why is it always dramatic with her? always. it never fails. he doesn't let her get too far up the staircase before he grabs her again, cinching down hard. they aren't going to do this. ]

Would you trust me to know what I am doing? Just once. Trust me.

[ he's irritated and he'll admit that he spoke out of turn later on when he speaks with his handlers but he cannot let her just go off on her own. that is a death wish. ]

I'm not going to let anyone touch you but you have to let me do my job. [ please. ] Come on. We are wasting time.

[ she's not dramatic. she's — okay, she's dramatic, but it's for a good reason. at least that's what daisy tells herself as she bristles under his touch, feet stomping down the stairs as he pulls her back down to the main floor. ]

Let — go — of — me!

[ he does not. in fact, he only grips harder, clearly agitated by her mini tantrum — which, in turn, only makes daisy more annoyed at the entire situation. he doesn't have anything to be annoyed by! he's the one who wants to leave! she's trying to go! let! her! go! ]

You don't even want to be here!

[ she could get away, if she really wanted to. even if she can't pry his hand off her arm, she could force him to let go. she could push him backwards hard enough that he'd have no choice but to relinquish control. but she doesn't. she doesn't push, she doesn't yank, doesn't quake him ... for reasons that she can't even come up with. doesn't matter why. she just doesn't do it. ]

You don't even want this stupid job!

[ god she's like a five year old throwing a fit because she's not allowed to put her fingers in the electrical socket ... please stop ... ]

You don't know what I want.

[ he grabs at both of her shoulders know, yanking her closer and lowering his voice. she's being too loud and they're going to draw attention to themselves. he has no idea how many of those men are trawling through this building but standing here and arguing with her is not doing them any favors. ]

You know nothing about me.

[ he glares, eyes hard and expression flinty. ] So, here's some basic facts: I am the only one here to help you right now. And I want to help but you have to let me. Now, if I have to carry you down the fire escape I will but we are not going to the roof and I am not leaving without you.

[ so, get your shit together because they gotta go. ] You can berate me and talk down to me later all you want. I'm used to it. But right now, I'm in charge.

That's not my fault!

[ that she knows nothing about him. he doesn't let her know anything about him. she tried — when he was first hired, brought on as an interim solution when daisy's last bodyguard (nanny figure) had stormed out in a huff after she'd beaten him too badly at one too many games of battleship, she'd tried to get to know him. she'd tried to learn about his hobbies, his interests; she'd tried to make him laugh, to include him in her sillier escapes, to show him that while she craved freedom, she wasn't an idiot.

but he'd shut her down and stonewalled her out, unemotional and unyielding at every turn, and so daisy had stopped trying. she'd started treating him like the concrete statue he pretended to be, as if her snippy commentary and jaded grouching sessions weren't capable of so much as chipping at his facade.

maybe he cared, maybe he didn't. but he certainly didn't do anything to show her that he cared, and so daisy didn't believe he did. he took a paycheck, that was all. ]

And I don't need you to carry me. I'm not a child. [ but she drops her voice, at least, even if she doesn't look thrilled about it. annoyed, but not yelling anymore. ] I can walk.

[ she would rather not, though. she still thinks the fire escape is a dumb plan.

plus, just for good measure, she has to try and get the last word in. ]

And you're not in charge of me, either.

When I've gotten you safely back home, I will ask you the question on if you want me to leave or not. You can tell me honestly and I'll do what you want. Until then, shut up.

[ since she seems to have come to her senses, he grabs for her arm again and moves down the hall, listening at various doors to check for anyone inside. when he comes to the end of the hall, he uses the heel of his boot to kick the knob loose. it'll be obvious but they have no time to waste.

he shoves her into the room and towards the door. ] Get the window open. I'm going to barricade the door.

[ with a chair, an ironing board, anything he can to slow whoever might be behind them. once he's done what he can, he crosses the room to the window and shoves it open before stepping back and grabbing for her hand. ]

[ please don't ask her that question. she doesn't know the answer to that question. or, rather, she does know the answer, but she doesn't know why it is. she isn't willing to know.

because she shouldn't care whether he stays or goes. he's just a bodyguard, he's just a hired gun, he's not. a friend. he doesn't want to be anything but a soldier, so he isn't. and yet... she cares. she doesn't want anyone else to be in that role.

thus: she doesn't want him to go.

but it's fine. it's good. she'll hover a palm over the latch of the window and shove, vibrations forcing the latch up and over until the window quivers in its frame. unlocked, inhuman style. which is great... but if he was just going to throw his weight around, she could have just quaked a hole in the damn thing and called it a day. it would have been faster.

though you know what else is fast? her heartbeat when he takes her hand, his obnoxiously large palm pressed snug against her own.

the swells of the aladdin soundtrack play suspiciously in her mind. do you trust me, the street rat whispers. ]

... are we jumping?

[ like, that's fine, but warn a girl. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject