legionworld | Movie Night IV: Movie Harder

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Movie Night IV: Movie Harder

Who| Wash and anyone who wants to join
What| Movie night!
Where| The same lounge movie night is always in
When| A few days after Silent Horizon and No Sanity Clause
Warnings/Notes| They're watching Clue, because Tim Curry is the cure for everything.

It has been, to put none too fine a point on it, a shitty week. Everyone needs a place where they can relax and get their minds off what's happened; to that end, Wash figures it's about time for another movie night, and goes for a comedy this time. Sure, Clue is technically a murder mystery with a slow build, but he's pretty sure people will enjoy it as long as he's up front about it.

There's tables full of snacks and drinks set up, per usual. Extra blankets are piled on the arms and backs of chairs and sofas, because blankets make things better and therefore need to be available. There's a sign outside the door with the movie's title, MPAA rating, and a brief summary, along with a note at the bottom: Movie night is neutral territory. Might as well make it known up front.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Marine. Either she's given him a nickname in turn or she's forgotten his name entirely; both are equally likely. "It's fine," he says, glancing over his shoulder at Reaper. "I mean, when Ghostface decides he wants to be a disco ball for Halloween, it's kind of hard not to stare." It's gossipy and shallow, sure, but given what little he knows about Azucar, she's going to have something to say about it.

"Ghostface." She echoes, mouth turning upwards in the ghost of a grin, as if noting someone's ridiculous superhero name for the first time ever.

Her attention turns back towards him then, picking up the shift in topic without skipping a beat - opting to snag one of the crackers she'd almost overturned in the process. "No güey, I kind of like it."

But considering how she's sporting glowing blue from head to toe, if anyone in the room would appreciate Reaper's hi-octane revamp, it's her.

"Let me guess: you haven't seen Scream." There aren't many people here who have; he's assuming that's the case for everyone until proven otherwise.

He raises an eyebrow at Sombra and gives Reaper another glance. "Somehow I'm not surprised. The thing is, you can go invisible, but he's just going to look like a thunderstorm, which is about as unsubtle as you can get." For someone who prides themselves on being stealthy, neon is a stunningly terrible choice.

"Was that the movie about Halloween or something?" Popular as a joke, she vaguely remembers seeing a meme or two pop up every now and then. A few clips overwritten and— oh. Oh she can see the resemblance, actually. It comes with a little snort. An even smaller grin, all conspiratory.

"I thought that was just his name. Ghostface."

That...doesn't sound right, namely because Wash is the only person on the ship who calls Reaper Ghostface and he's pretty sure he hasn't done it in front of Azucar before today. Reaper's kind of notorious, he's seen Azucar on the anon meme at least once and anons love talking about his so-called relationship with Reaper, and there are public dossiers available - how does Azucar not know who he is?

Now's not the time to explore that train of thought in depth. He can still ask the question, but it needs to be couched in curiosity, not suspicion. "Wait, how do you not know his name? He sticks out, and he has a reputation."

"Are you serious?" She doesn't skip a beat in asking, blinking through the question with a look of surprise rather than falling back on defensiveness or the sharpness of a furrowed brow. "I don't know if you've noticed but it's been a literal nightmare around here ever since I showed up. Valor's Day was the first and last good thing I ever had."

Her lips purse then, arms folding neatly as if she's suddenly been made uncomfortable by the memory of it— what the Legion's cost her.

"I haven't even met a quarter of the Legionnaires here yet, or read half of their files— wait, have you?"

The first and last good thing I ever had is a little too dramatic - it smacks of one of Donut's stories, or Grif complaining that he hasn't had pizza since yesterday. Someone who believes in invisibility for a food fight and floor popcorn has too much of an edge to deliver that sincerely.

But he files it away for later. Her denial is a little more imminent and that much easier to address. "Hang on. You're telling me that you couldn't spare two hours to watch a movie because there's 'too much to do,' you'd rather know things instead of waiting to discover them, you're literally wired to interact with the network, and you've never looked at Reaper's file?" Look at that disbelief, Azucar. Look at it.

He has the decency to keep his voice down. If he's going to knock holes in her excuses, he can at least do it quietly.

It's slow, the look on her face as his accusation sets in for the specific, direct reasoning he opts to use. A steady grin, a little too sharp— a little too knowing— like she's been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

And really, she has.

"Chico listo."

Usually it's easy to lean on perceptions or affection to let assumptions do the talking for her; sometimes it's refreshing, meeting someone less inclined to fall for it.

This, he can deal with. The knowing little smirk with an edge - it's Carolina on a good day; it's York in the middle of a prank; it's familiar. It also means he doesn't have to wade through some sweetness and innocence act in order to have a conversation with her.

"So are we going to have an actual conversation now?"

"Maybe." Yes. Though there's something that ought to be said first, and she's not so eager to be sincere that she's forgotten about it in the moment, tapping her index fingers together with a light little click.

"But you can't tell Soldier: 76 that I've met Reaper. The last time those two were in the same room together? They tried to kill each other, and I'm not here to take sides. ¿Es eso justo?"

Okay, but when was the last time Reaper and 76 were in the same room? Capturing Reaper the initial time, sure, but that was a while ago; there's footage of them working together in Murderworld; if there's been something else since then, Wash doesn't know about it.

So he takes a shot in the dark.

"I really don't care about the drama you all brought from home," he says, "but fine." Because that's the simplest explanation, given the judicious application of Occam's Razor to Azucar's knowledge of those two and their enmity.

He busies himself rearranging snacks and takes a second or two to think. He's not going to get any real answers here - it's too public, with too much risk of being overheard. If he wants whatever counts as a real conversation with Azucar, it's going to have to be somewhere else. "Tell you what: you're off the hook for the next two hours. We'll talk on your beach after the movie." On one hand, she won't have to divulge anything in public; on the other hand, that beach is wide open, and there'll be nowhere for her to hide when they do talk. As far as he's concerned, it's a good tradeoff.

Her lips purse for a moment in thought, clearly mulling over his pointed offer despite how busy he makes himself look. It's not a bad deal. It's not ideal, but it's not a bad deal - and if she'd been more careful she wouldn't have wound up having this conversation in the first place.

"I'll see you there, Marine."

And she could stay. Wait out the rest of the movie and continue to dig, but it's too risky. Too cavalier. Sombra shrugs her shoulders in a mild farewell, slipping away while he's partially distracted. Gabe will survive a couple hours with the kids unsupervised— and hopefully he'll be smart enough to not come wandering openly back to the beach once it's done.

She picks out a spot near the water to wait. Someplace quiet. Spends the time picking through data and mulling over her approach like a tactician on the ropes.

Wash nods to Azucar as she slips off. Well. That's two interesting conversations he's slated to have later this afternoon, and he'd damn well better prepare.

Thankfully, Clue is a movie he knows backwards and forwards, and it offers him more than enough time to think. He spends most of the movie sifting through his memories, putting the pieces he has together, with a brief interlude to look up what Azucar actually means and another one to mentally kick himself for overlooking that piece of the puzzle for so long. She's been hiding in plain sight for a while, hasn't she.

After the movie is over, and the common room is cleaned up, and Connie is fully briefed on the situation with the mole on Legion World - that's when Wash finally makes his way to Azucar's beach. He has a bottle of brandy in hand, half-full and absolutely a leftover from movie night (because some days it's worth it to have themed drinks). It's less of a peace offering and more of an assurance that he's not about to try anything violent.

"You know, I've met exactly two people ever who could unironically call themselves Sugar," he says by way of greeting. "Everyone else is either being ironic about it or hiding in plain sight, and given that you've already lied to my face and asked me to keep a secret from 76, I'm going with the latter." There's probably a good bit of the former in there too, but that's less important here.

"You know Reaper, and you don't want 76 to know you know, so I figure you're involved with Reaper somehow. Given his rap sheet, that means you're in some pretty deep shit back home." Terrorist isn't a word thrown around lightly, even now. "I'm betting Azucar is a brand-new identity made just for Legion World, so that the people from your dimension who don't know you by sight don't immediately rain hell on your head for what you did back home. You're living one hell of a lie."

It's all very conversational, like he's asking her what she'd thought of the movie.

Terrorist is a subjective word. Especially in the world she left behind. Given the weight behind what he says— how he says it— Sombra isn't certain whether or not she should be more relieved that he doesn't use it directly, or maybe more irritated.

Either way, her poker face is sound without that false identity getting in the way. Doesn't pull a reaction that's concrete or telling, just a slow, considerate blink as he counts off his theories. She knew he was dangerous.

His ability to read her in the wake of Silent Horizon had proven that much.

"It's an interesting story." The one he's crafted. Drags the lightest little scoff from her as she slips from her perch, moving to wind her fingers around the neck of the bottle he's holding. Not tugging or pulling, not even posturing, just moves with a curious expectation to see whether or not he'll let her take it from him. "I'll give you that."

Edited (iphoooone) 2017-03-08 22:58 (UTC)

He keeps his hand on the bottle for now - it's not worth being distracted over. "What, no posturing? No telling me how much of an idiot I am for even thinking that? Either you're smarter than half the people I've talked with, or I'm right. Or both," he adds after a moment. There's a sizable Venn diagram overlap there that he's not about to discount.

"So which is it?"

"If you really want to know, I'll tell you." A concession on Sombra's part; her hold on the bottle's released as she steps back in a show of passive, willful compromise - luminescent markings glinting in artificial light. As far as she's concerned, he can have it. All of it.

"But not for free."

They've bartered for information once before, after all.

Wash raises an eyebrow at that. Usually someone that involved in a lie will try to maintain it; that she's willing to give it up so easily is unexpected, to say the least.

"What's your price?"

"Reaper's gun."

There's no skipped beat, no inconsistency in her stare: direct and unblinking when she lays her figurative cards on the table. "I know you have it, and I want you to give it to me."

It's a brazen request. Maybe too bold, considering the circumstances— but when it comes to business she's always kept her word, and he doesn't seem like the kind of man that aims to twist the knife when he's already got the upper hand. "In exchange I'll answer your questions. Se trata de un comercio justo."

In retrospect, he absolutely should have seen this coming. As it is, it's all he can do to stifle a sudden laugh. That answers a lot of questions.

"Okay, one: no deal. Two: thanks for confirming that you're working with him. Three: is that why I haven't had to make a new trap in three weeks? He's outsourced because he can't hack it?" It's getting really hard not to outright laugh at the turn this has taken. "Did he ever tell you why I have his gun?"

Ugh. Annoying.

Sombra rolls her eyes as her hands settle firmly on her hips, attention drifting for the first time since he opted to set foot on her beach. "Does it matter?"

"He didn't, did he." Wash is full-on smirking at this point and doesn't care. "Well of course not - it's probably embarrassing for him to admit that he had the drop on me and I still kicked his ass." He punctuates his words with an easy shrug.

"It's embarrassing that he had to ask for help in the first place." There's a scoff for it; whether he's gloating or not, they're at least agreed on that.

"But the longer you hold onto his equipment, the more you're hindering the Legion. You know that, right?"

She took the risk of incriminating herself for it, there's no backing off now.

Azucar's confirmation is just proof that Wash is doing it right, as far as he's concerned.

"Please." He rolls his eyes. "He could've had another gun made to his exact specifications months ago. This is a pride thing, and we all know it."

"And it isn't for you?"

This time when she moves in for the bottle, eyebrow pointedly (skeptically) arched, it's neither considerate nor patient: you brought booze onto her beach, Wash, you need to share it.

"Of course it is. He jumped me and put a gun to my head; like hell am I going to reward him for that." He hands the bottle over easily. "The difference is, I'm not letting an easily solved problem impede my combat skills. Literally none of this is my fault."

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