[On the heels of that almost-smile is a quiet snort – just about the closest thing to laughter Jill's probably going to get out of him.]
Nice to feel needed.
[The dry retort is all the reassurance Jill gets before he shifts his weight, digging his heels in the dirt and bracing himself for the sudden burden as she drops over the edge. There are worse ways to be used– to be useful. Helping a teammate of his own accord isn't not one of them.
Keeping a tight grip on the rope – and trying to think heavy thoughts – he takes the time to glance out past the overlook, towards the distant edge of the treeline where clusters of run-down old buildings can be seen. Evidence that this part of the archipelago had once been occupied– but no sign of any occupants just yet. Nothing showing up on Smart Vision either, he notes, artificial eyes registering only cool blues and greens on the thermograph. He blinks once, twice, three times before his view shifts back into a more comfortable wavelength – back to grey skies and rolling fog. Not that heat readings mean much here. If he's to believe everything he'd been told at his first briefing, not everything they might be dealing with would necessarily be alive– or even robotic. Undead, like something out of one of those B-rated midnight movies Pritchard was always pestering him to watch. At first he'd thought they'd been joking – some sort of elaborate hazing ritual for the new guy – but quickly, disturbingly, he'd realized that wasn't the case.
Things are never simple these days. If it's not the actual, literal Illuminati, it's zombified bioweapons. He's not yet convinced it isn't both on this island, but– well, that's why he's really here, isn't it?
A sudden tug on the end of the rope grabs his attention, and he peers downwards curiously, the top of his head and a pair of sunglasses poking just far over the edge of the cliffside to be seen from down below. Barely in time to catch the tail end of what must've been a sweet-ass flip. Stuck the landing too.
Nice.
Adam acknowledges her wave with a quick nod, drawing up the rope and putting it away before getting up and moving to the edge of the cliff. He glances downwards – making sure Jill isn't right underfoot – before stepping off unhesitatingly. He drops like a stone, arms spread at his sides, before coming to a strangely silent landing on his feet and dropping to one knee – silent save for a involuntary, pained grunt that he isn't able to bite back quite in time. It was a long fall, certainly – long enough to rattle every tooth in his skull, but not quite long enough for his landing system aug to feel like it needed to kick in. The wonders of technology. Still, the shock absorbers in his cyberlimbs do their job, and a moment later he's back on his feet without too much discomfort.]
We can swap next time if you still feel shitty about it.
[It's a joke, but for all he knows, she'd match his fall– and throw in a backwards somersault and a reverse twist. At this point, nothing would surprise him.
Joining her once more, rolling his shoulder, he follows her gaze over to the treeline. No chance of sighting the old buildings from down here now. Not through the dense foilage on the forest floor, and not through the encroaching fog just starting to roll onto land from the sea – a product of the earlier storms. Adam frowns.]
Didn't catch sight of anything while I was up there. [A pause. Neither of them need to say it to know what he means: doesn't mean there's nothing out there.] How do we want to approach this?
you think you can just come waltzing back on into my life like this
[ Something more genuine comes of his reply from her, at least. A little puff of a laugh, not restrained in any sense of the word but still short and clipped. ]
Tell me about it.
[ Which contrary to the actual meaning of the sentence, it's not encouragement for him to open up on the subject. If he'd care to fill the silence with real and perhaps legitimate personal woes, she'd lend him an ear, but he doesn't seem like the type to do that sort of thing. At least not until post-mission victory celebrations and a twelve pack are drowning him.
She rubs at her wrists, thumb rolling over the joint and over her gloved knuckles. Maybe at some point it'll be down to lack of humanity in general -- not just tricked out humans or those robbed of their own lives. Give or take a decade and she might be last year's model, replaced with a cyborg or a completely obedient supped-up viral freak, easy to dispose of when you remove the element of empathy. She's not sure it's a change she'd welcome, but she'd fought for nothing other than the safety of others; to make monsters fictional again, that's a goal to strive for.
His slide down is watched with some curiosity, unsure exactly how it might feel and if the pressure might put strain on him. Must be convenient. ]
Impressive dismount. [ It's hard not to think of it like he just did a gymnastics routine. Jill raises her arms slightly at the elbow, waving her hands a little. ] I get the feeling you'd drag me down head first even if I put all my weight into it. Don't know about you, but I think I'm just fine not being a pancake.
[ There's only so many food-related jokes she can handle.
But he's not incorrect -- although she'd just do a modified moonsault. She's become much lighter on her feet and more capable of using the way she moves to be more accurate, swift, or avoid injury. It's experience and knowing her own body, the specialties she's cultivated have all been to accommodate the skills she already had and her small stature (in addition to riffing off her typically much more bulky partners). Where they're power, she's speed and compromise. Jill isn't entirely sure if it'll pan out that way with this guy. ]
Figure slow and steady is well enough. Trees are pretty thick, so we should stick together. [ What makes for good cover and good hiding doesn't just apply to them, after all. ] Probably don't have to tell you to aim for the head, but be wary of Plagas. Some grow to maturation quickly and can detach from the original host body. Anything that regenerates you'll want to unload quickly on. [ She probably didn't need to mention that, but it's something to be reminded of. She almost seems apologetic, like she's the one who brought all of this down on them, her expression drained to emptiness as she holds her trusty Beretta tight. ] I'll take point.
[ She'd started back in STARS in the rear, clean-up duty and taking great care of her comrades. She'd become more of a leader since, though perhaps not the best with inspiring cowboy speeches.
Raising her weapon to eye level she gives it a swirl. Tight, upturned like a question: ] Yippie-ki-yay?
[ The motherfucker is implied.
It's the best kind of pep talk she can muster as she takes a more serious stance, gun held pointing forward and down with both hands. It's a comforting feeling, even if only the tips of her fingers are able to recognize it. The first goal is the small cropping of buildings, but some distance has to be crossed before then. The sound of the forest floor is crisp and the smell thick and green, which means that the plants hopefully weren't a casualty. The trunks of trees hold no signs of rot and the branches are just as thick and robust, extending high and darkening their passage through them. Between this and the fog, it's likely she'll have to flip the light on her headpiece on for a little added clarity.
Even if he probably has something to take care of it all for him. Maybe having him work as the compass would've been a better call. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I'M ALIVE also wrong icon but too lazy to resub rn
Nice to feel needed.
[The dry retort is all the reassurance Jill gets before he shifts his weight, digging his heels in the dirt and bracing himself for the sudden burden as she drops over the edge. There are worse ways to be used– to be useful. Helping a teammate of his own accord isn't not one of them.
Keeping a tight grip on the rope – and trying to think heavy thoughts – he takes the time to glance out past the overlook, towards the distant edge of the treeline where clusters of run-down old buildings can be seen. Evidence that this part of the archipelago had once been occupied– but no sign of any occupants just yet. Nothing showing up on Smart Vision either, he notes, artificial eyes registering only cool blues and greens on the thermograph. He blinks once, twice, three times before his view shifts back into a more comfortable wavelength – back to grey skies and rolling fog. Not that heat readings mean much here. If he's to believe everything he'd been told at his first briefing, not everything they might be dealing with would necessarily be alive– or even robotic. Undead, like something out of one of those B-rated midnight movies Pritchard was always pestering him to watch. At first he'd thought they'd been joking – some sort of elaborate hazing ritual for the new guy – but quickly, disturbingly, he'd realized that wasn't the case.
Things are never simple these days. If it's not the actual, literal Illuminati, it's zombified bioweapons. He's not yet convinced it isn't both on this island, but– well, that's why he's really here, isn't it?
A sudden tug on the end of the rope grabs his attention, and he peers downwards curiously, the top of his head and a pair of sunglasses poking just far over the edge of the cliffside to be seen from down below. Barely in time to catch the tail end of what must've been a
sweet-assflip. Stuck the landing too.Nice.
Adam acknowledges her wave with a quick nod, drawing up the rope and putting it away before getting up and moving to the edge of the cliff. He glances downwards – making sure Jill isn't right underfoot – before stepping off unhesitatingly. He drops like a stone, arms spread at his sides, before coming to a strangely silent landing on his feet and dropping to one knee – silent save for a involuntary, pained grunt that he isn't able to bite back quite in time. It was a long fall, certainly – long enough to rattle every tooth in his skull, but not quite long enough for his landing system aug to feel like it needed to kick in. The wonders of technology. Still, the shock absorbers in his cyberlimbs do their job, and a moment later he's back on his feet without too much discomfort.]
We can swap next time if you still feel shitty about it.
[It's a joke, but for all he knows, she'd match his fall– and throw in a backwards somersault and a reverse twist. At this point, nothing would surprise him.
Joining her once more, rolling his shoulder, he follows her gaze over to the treeline. No chance of sighting the old buildings from down here now. Not through the dense foilage on the forest floor, and not through the encroaching fog just starting to roll onto land from the sea – a product of the earlier storms. Adam frowns.]
Didn't catch sight of anything while I was up there. [A pause. Neither of them need to say it to know what he means: doesn't mean there's nothing out there.] How do we want to approach this?
you think you can just come waltzing back on into my life like this
Tell me about it.
[ Which contrary to the actual meaning of the sentence, it's not encouragement for him to open up on the subject. If he'd care to fill the silence with real and perhaps legitimate personal woes, she'd lend him an ear, but he doesn't seem like the type to do that sort of thing. At least not until post-mission victory celebrations and a twelve pack are drowning him.
She rubs at her wrists, thumb rolling over the joint and over her gloved knuckles. Maybe at some point it'll be down to lack of humanity in general -- not just tricked out humans or those robbed of their own lives. Give or take a decade and she might be last year's model, replaced with a cyborg or a completely obedient supped-up viral freak, easy to dispose of when you remove the element of empathy. She's not sure it's a change she'd welcome, but she'd fought for nothing other than the safety of others; to make monsters fictional again, that's a goal to strive for.
His slide down is watched with some curiosity, unsure exactly how it might feel and if the pressure might put strain on him. Must be convenient. ]
Impressive dismount. [ It's hard not to think of it like he just did a gymnastics routine. Jill raises her arms slightly at the elbow, waving her hands a little. ] I get the feeling you'd drag me down head first even if I put all my weight into it. Don't know about you, but I think I'm just fine not being a pancake.
[ There's only so many food-related jokes she can handle.
But he's not incorrect -- although she'd just do a modified moonsault. She's become much lighter on her feet and more capable of using the way she moves to be more accurate, swift, or avoid injury. It's experience and knowing her own body, the specialties she's cultivated have all been to accommodate the skills she already had and her small stature (in addition to riffing off her typically much more bulky partners). Where they're power, she's speed and compromise. Jill isn't entirely sure if it'll pan out that way with this guy. ]
Figure slow and steady is well enough. Trees are pretty thick, so we should stick together. [ What makes for good cover and good hiding doesn't just apply to them, after all. ] Probably don't have to tell you to aim for the head, but be wary of Plagas. Some grow to maturation quickly and can detach from the original host body. Anything that regenerates you'll want to unload quickly on. [ She probably didn't need to mention that, but it's something to be reminded of. She almost seems apologetic, like she's the one who brought all of this down on them, her expression drained to emptiness as she holds her trusty Beretta tight. ] I'll take point.
[ She'd started back in STARS in the rear, clean-up duty and taking great care of her comrades. She'd become more of a leader since, though perhaps not the best with inspiring cowboy speeches.
Raising her weapon to eye level she gives it a swirl. Tight, upturned like a question: ] Yippie-ki-yay?
[ The motherfucker is implied.
It's the best kind of pep talk she can muster as she takes a more serious stance, gun held pointing forward and down with both hands. It's a comforting feeling, even if only the tips of her fingers are able to recognize it. The first goal is the small cropping of buildings, but some distance has to be crossed before then. The sound of the forest floor is crisp and the smell thick and green, which means that the plants hopefully weren't a casualty. The trunks of trees hold no signs of rot and the branches are just as thick and robust, extending high and darkening their passage through them. Between this and the fog, it's likely she'll have to flip the light on her headpiece on for a little added clarity.
Even if he probably has something to take care of it all for him. Maybe having him work as the compass would've been a better call. ]