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.

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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."

...Well that explains a lot.

Sombra pauses with her mouth to the lip of the bottle, expression drawn impressively thin— que desmadre— no wonder he's been such a pain about this. Gabriel jumped (predictably, come to think of it) right off the starting line and put Wash's back to the wall. Another scoff, another beat, and she's pulling a long, long sip.

She needs it right about now.

"I get it. You don't know him. What he's been through." The bottle's tipped back towards him, a peace offering. "Not like it's your problem, anyway."

Conflicts like this one? They don't die easy. And Gabe doesn't make it any easier.

"But who do you think's been responsible for his change of heart, mijo?" How many missions has he completed now on his best behavior? How many acts of favoritism has he done in the name of the Legion since Azúcar's arrival? Wash clearly saw him there, sitting in stoic, patient silence at the movie showing tonight.

It's not exactly a coincidence to sharp eyes.

"The person who's been lying to me to my face about her name and God knows what else." He holds out a hand expectantly. Give him the fucking brandy back; turns out he needs it too.

"And I don't think it's a change of heart; I think it's another act. The big, creepy guy in the back makes nice with his new team. Meanwhile, his secret partner, the manipulator that nobody's supposed to know about, puts on a heart of gold persona and goes around making friends and twisting words, until everyone's eating out of the palm of their hand and no one sees the fist coming." There's a very dangerous line here, and he's toeing it. "The last time I saw that act, the manipulator in question was wearing gray and orange armor, so forgive me for being wary."

The bottle's snatched away in an instant, expression suddenly sharp enough to cut. Oh no. You don't get your brandy back. Not after that.

"—you're comparing me to him? Seriously?"

Fuck you, that's his brandy. The hand stays out.

"The pattern is the same, and I just learned I don't know the first thing about you." His tone is pointed, but the volume isn't going up. He's trying to make a point, not bait her. "The last time I fell for a ruse like this, a lot of people died. I can't afford to ignore it."

"It's called an alias, pendejo, everyone here has one. And my reason for using it has nothing to do with you."

If he wants it back, he's going to have to reach for it, because in this— for this— she isn't meeting him halfway. Isn't budging so much as an inch where her heels are dug into the sand with a stubbornness she hasn't worn in her posture since she wore phosphorescent paint high across her face.

"You want proof? Ask Cortana. She was in my head— if I had anything to hide, she'd have seen it long before you even bothered to double check my name."

Hadn't they just had a conversation about pride? Wash gives her a long look and shoves his hands in his pockets. Fine, then.

"You know I don't give a shit about why you chose your alias, right? I really don't care what past you're bringing with you or trying to hide from everyone else. What I care about is my friends, and what I want is a guarantee that you're not running some long game that's going to wreck us all." It's a little dramatic, but so is his entire goddamn life. For once he'd like for something not to go to the extreme.

The offer is tempting, but...well, Azucar doesn't need to know that Cortana doesn't exactly like him. "Define in your head - compatibility's weird across dimensions."

She lifts the span of those dark blue and pale, glowing curls across the left side of her head, revealing at least part of the expanse of her circuitry - usually hidden on the off chance Lena crosses her immediate path. "Hard to define in the first place."

Maybe Cortana understood the full depths of it more than she ever did; maybe York and Delta just as much. She was too busy running half the time.

From everything.

"I could hear what she was thinking, she could hear what I was thinking. We shared memories. Experiences."

Her lips purse for a beat, she shrugs her shoulders stiffly. "That's as close as anyone here's gonna get to seeing right through me, so you either take it or leave it."

And with that she steps forward, shoves the bottle against his chest with a firm hand. "But you need to understand that what you know about me is dangerous."

Huh. He isn't sure if it's odd that the only set of implants on board that doesn't give Cortana full access to the user's brain is the one native to her dimension or if it's smart. Things to consider later, or possibly never. "I'll take it." For now. If there was anything imminently dangerous in there, Cortana would have told someone about it, or done something about it herself.

He wraps a hand around the bottle. "Dangerous how?" There's a huge difference between it'll get me killed and it'll end the world.

Please, does she look like she's from the Halo universe?

"Dangerous para mí, güey." There's no charm in it, no easy rhythm to her voice; maybe it's nice, getting to speak so bluntly for a change to someone other than Gabe— but if it is, she's not stopping long enough to dwell on it. "If I was really so afraid of you finding out the truth about me— if I was the kind of person that'd kill for it? Believe me, I would have done something about it already."

And she wouldn't have tried to level a deal for a weapon she could've just opted to take instead.

"You say you only care about your friends, that you don't know me; I don't know you, Agent Washington, so if I seem a little unhappy about the fact that someone I'm not sure I can trust is holding me over a barrel for nothing in return, that might have something to do with it."

"If I thought you were the kind of person to do something about it, I would've gone to Kid Q instead of meeting you here. But here we are." He takes a long swig of brandy to punctuate the statement. He'd chosen to trust what little he knew of her - the part that was willing to show up at movie nights and participate in food fights, the part that seemed to genuinely give a shit about York and Locus - instead of taking what was probably the safest route. He's had trust blow up in his face more than once, and yet that still hasn't stopped him from trying.

"When I said I don't care about your past, I mean I don't care that you have secrets. You want me not to tell 76 that you know Reaper? Fine. And I'm not prying into anything else, either. As long as you're not trying to fuck people up or overthrow the Legion, you can keep on being Azucar and I won't say a word about it, to you or anyone." His eyes flicker towards her - overthrowing the Legion sounds like a ridiculous thing to throw out, but if they already have a mole, he needs to make sure she's not planning on making things worse.

Her arms fold tightly across her chest, puffing out a critical little scoff that's punctuated by yet another eye roll— though it's a little less sharp than before. "Fine."

Fine, it's fair enough, provided he keeps his word on not being nosy.

"It's a deal."

Not the easiest one she's made in her entire life, but he's clever enough that she figured it'd be an uphill battle from the start. Besides, if he decides to start causing trouble, she'll at least have the benefit of seeing it coming. The support of her own friends...and his.

"So." She starts, eyebrows pointedly lifting, "Are we good here?"

Movie Night IV: Movie Harder

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