December 27th. Early afternoon.
#RedrockAgency – March 16, 2022
Leah steps out into the hallway, having followed up with Renala after her meeting with Vasquez. A sigh slips out of her, this dreadful day having long since worn out its welcome. Before she has a chance to start down the hall, however, the door across from her draws her gaze. She purses her lips to the side, contemplating whether or not she should just head out. She reminds herself that she still has a long day ahead of her.
Besides, what are the chances Nathan is even in the office today? So, deciding that she's probably better off getting a move on, she ignores that internal advice and steps through the door across the hall and makes her way to the armory. The red panel turns green as she steps up to it, the panel detecting her omni-tool, and, with a press of a button, the door slides open. Soon enough, a blonde head of hair pokes through the
Nathan turns out to be at work today, surprisingly. The reason why? Quite evident. For on the workbench in front of him is none other than the H-K pistol that Tara got him for Christmas. A myriad of tools, sprays and other equipment lies scattered around the weapon, ready to be utilized against the firearm. And yet... Nathan is just stood there, staring down at it with both hands placed either side of it, a deep
frown on his face. Thoughtful. Contemplative. As if he's having an inner dialogue with himself about it. He huffs, rapping his fingers against the table for a moment before he lets out a groan of frustration and shakes his head, mentally scratching something off of an imaginary list. He's so engrossed in his own thoughts, the armorer doesn't even notice the arrival of another .
Leah sucks in her lips, fighting back against the tired smile that tries to escape as she realizes Nathan is far too deep in his work to notice her presence. She watches him for a moment, smile eventually winning out as she realizes what it is that he's working on. Today, good triumphs over evil and she manages to fight back that temptation to lift a screwdriver before he realizes she's here. Freaking out the normies, the true
struggle of every biotic. Instead, she merely presses one shoulder against the doorframe as she half-enters the room and deliver a flat, unenthusiastic, "Boo." No endearing insults or nicknames. Perhaps that gives away her weariness just as much as the tired look in her eyes.
Nathan manages not to crap himself in the same way that a floating screwdriver would or a sudden, loud shout would. Instead, the tired, "Boo," is enough to cause him to jolt in surprise and flick his wide eyes up to Leah. Seeing who it is, he breathes a relieved sigh and offers her a much more energetic smile. Although it falters seeing her rather somber state. His brow once more knits into a frown, but this time
it's cause is much easier to determine. "Good afternoon," he says, propping his elbows on the worktop. "You look like you've had a day." Unknowingly putting it mildly. "You okay?"
Leah snorts as Nathan seems to immediately pick up on her underlying mood, her gaze dropping to the floor briefly and causing her bangs to fall into her face. "Been better." she admits as she brings a hand up to sweep a lock of hair back behind her ear. She allows that statement to linger for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to elaborate on it, before fully entering the room. "I wasn't sure that you'd be here today." she
Nathan tilts his head curiously at her, concern evident in his gaze. When she moves further into the room, he moves around the table to intercept and reaches out a hand to gingerly touch her arm. A small act of comfort. Her lack of elaboration causes his frown to persist for a moment longer before he relents. He can wait a moment. So, instead, he nods towards the pistol on the bench and hums. "Wasn't planning on
it," he admits. "But I had one of those moods to just tinker, so I decided to try and fix up the gun Tara got me." The latter half of that sentence sounded so weird in his head. Tara. Finding him a gun. As a present. Nope, still weird. "But, uh... kinda hit a wall with it."
Leah's previous smile returns, weighed down by the rest of this morning perhaps, but present nonetheless at the gentle touch as Nathan's focus returns to the pistol. "She's still getting the hang of this whole-... gift giving thing." she attempts to joke as she perches at the edge of the table, almost seeming as if she's avoiding his gaze as she focuses on the dismantled weapon.
Nathan breathes a small laugh. "Yeah, maybe. But the thought was there and, once I've figured out how I want to fix it up, it'll be a nice sidearm. It was a... weirdly appropriate gift for me." However, when he looks back to her and sees her gaze is avoiding his, the small smile present fades. Instead he reaches up to gently touch her chin and encourage her to look to him. "Hey... what's going on?"
Leah distantly nods along as Nathan speaks, green eyes fixed to the old weapon. When she feels his touch on her chin, she reluctantly tilts her eyes his way, the question causing her to briefly suck in her lips. She rolls her eyes- not at him just at... everything- and offers a small shake of her head. "I had a run-in this morning with some people I crossed back on Omega." she sighs, one palm coming to rest against the
workbench to keep her propped up, feet lifting off the ground as she fully sits at the edge of the table. She once again breaks eye contact, gaze returning to the weapon just to have somewhere else to look. "Talons." she continues, trying to get out ahead of the questions that are sure to follow, "It's a long story, but they were-... umm-..." she stammers, attention briefly flicking back to Nathan, voice growing a bit
Nathan watches her movement as she slips onto the workbench. He holds his arms across his stomach, listening quietly as she explains. He doesn't force her to look his way this time, understanding that whatever she has to say is probably not going to be easy. The mention of Talons causes one of his eyebrows to arch upwards. He's heard of them only in passing, at least he's sure he has. Can't name any details about
them, though. Just one of those names that rings familiar. "Oh," he says, brow knitting together. "...I take it that it wasn't for a friendly chat?"
Leah gives a hollow snort. "Watch out, Sherlock Holmes. There's a new detective in town." she says, a hint of bitterness entering her tone. The breath she draws in is a heavy one, frown etching into her features as she continues to study the old pistol. "...I guess it's no wonder she's buying weapons as gifts. All she ever sees us do is fight. Kill."
Nathan gives her a somewhat stern look, but relents and turns into a more apologetic one. He was the one to state the stupidly obvious. Instead he reaches over to lay a hand over hers, a gentle squeeze accompanying it as he looks towards the weapon. He hums, finding it hard to really disagree. "It was only me, mind," he says. "And I am an armorer. So...". He idly waves a hand around his place of work. "...So what
happened? Is Tara and your dad okay?" Nathan seems to do a cursory once over of Leah, as if expecting to see wounds suddenly appear. He knows how stubborn half the people in this company are. Hell, he can be one of them. It wouldn't be the first time one of them was walking wounded and trying to play it off.
Leah doesn't respond to Nathan's explanation for the weapon. She doesn't doubt that the gift was given with the best of intentions, but she also knows perfectly well where Tara's association between the weapon and Nathan came from. She watched them execute a man. She wasn't supposed to see it, but she did. That's the sort of thing that stays with you. "Yeah..." she assures him softly once he voices his question. She finally
looks back to the man in front of her, suddenly seeming to realize that she probably should've led with the fact that Tara and Francois are unharmed rather than let him worry. "Sorry-... yeah-... " she repeats apologetically, "They're a little shaken up but-..." she confirms with a nod, "...they're okay. Safe." she emphasizes, the importance of that not lost on her despite the shitty situation surrounding it. As he
finishes scanning her over, she blinks, giving an amused lift of her brow. "Eyes are up here, by the way." she teases, gesturing to herself with a circling of her index finger before scrunching up her nose, "In case you forgot." The attempt at levity lacks her usual energy, the long day clearly having taken its toll on her.
Nathan has the good courtesy to look a little embarrassed as she motions to herself. "Wha- no, I... oh." Teasing. Idiot. "Good. That Tara and your father are okay...". He trails off, an unspoken question lingering on his lips. About the condition of her 'visitors'. He can easily guess. After all, the last group who came after Tara and Leah are now buried in a mass grave out in the countryside. So a handful of
thugs from Omega? He lets the question die in his throat, instead simply looking to her eyes with a concerned frown. Worried for the toll that all of this is taking on her. "...how are you holding up? Seriously, this time." He straightens up and now takes her hand proper in his own, the other resting on the table near her side.
Leah's smile makes a shadowing return at Nate's embarrassment. But it slips at the follow-up question and she gives something of a dismissive shrug, gaze dropping down to their hands. She shifts her own hand, thumb gently tracing along the contours of the backside of his hand. "Took a few knocks." she says, shooting a quick glance towards the doorway to make sure nobody is there before leaning to her side a little bit and
bringing up her free hand. She grabs the bottom of her jacket on her left side, taking her shirt with it as she lifts it a few inches, revealing a line of medigel covering a cut just below her ribs. "Guess I've got a matching pair now..." she adds in a mutter, the wound from their fight with Fasha's people that decorated her opposite side having only just started to scar over. This one doesn't look quite as bad. Less of a
clean slice and more of a jagged scrape. Once he's had a chance to look at it, she's quick to lower her jacket and flatten it out. "...But I'm-... umm-... otherwise unharmed." she concludes, probably well aware that his question was intended to be a bit deeper than that.
Nathan turns his gaze to the wound, a sharp intake of air slipping between clenched teeth. It was too much to expect she came out unharmed, he supposed. But he noted that she was skirting around the true meaning of his question. He gives her a somewhat stern look that quickly gives way. Instead, he carefully releases her hand and leans a little more heavily on the table. "Not quite what I meant," he murmurs,
chewing on his inner cheek. "But at least you're symmetrical with your scarring now." Another weak attempt at levity for this conversation, but at least it is attempted. "...I won't press you, if you don't want to talk about it. If you just... want some company, or to chat or... whatever, then we can do that. But I worry, Leah. I really do."