Monday you can fall apart Tuesday, Wednesday break my heart

[goddamngrenades]

Who| York & You
What| Getting an upgrade, a therapy pet, and reality check.
Where| Legion World
When| After North's Shoescapade
Warnings/Notes| N/A



[ Legion Medical ]

It's...an adjustment, getting the eye back. After so long with that frosted glass over his vision, the cloudy veil over what he can and can't see? Suddenly having a clear view of everything (Plus HUD courtesy of delta) is...a little jarring and a lot relieving. It'll mean training up his everything all over again but- he feels confident that it'll be a smoothish transition. Post surgery he's going through the motions of touching his nose and reading shit off the wall before they cut him loose to wander, staring out with two clear eyes- well. one clear and one ringed with luminescent green. Also courtesy of Delta.

He's bouncing a ball off the wall as he walks, catching it with little judges of luck and a lot of help from Delta to track it before it goes wide and rolls around the corner where he can't catch it without jogging to grab it. "Aw man- toss it back?"


[ Mess Hall ]

There's a little grey ball of feathers and fur curled up on York's head, wide green eyes flicking from point to point as it chirrups. Such a small chittering sound- but York without missing a beat peels off a strand of a fruit or protein laden stick meant to replicate a grub and holds it up for that tiny mouth to snap it up. He is, on the whole, sitting very, very still. Anyone that asks will be introduced to 'Emu' because that is, of course, the only thing the damn darling will answer to (thanks Wash).


[ Training Gym ]

A - Eye on the Prize

Range time is important- doubly so now that he's got a built in tactical zoom with the eye, targeting reticle for a pupil and all of Delta's helpful little instructions zipping across his vision in real time. Handguns to assault rifles to throwing his little marble grenades- gauging distance and angle and running through what he needs more work on (everything) while falling back into the old habit of beatboxing under his breath with every set of targets. A little like before and a lot like, well, now. Next up: Parkour.

On Hard Mode.


B - Heel to Toe

Yeah this was a shit idea. Running through once with the eye in regular shoes? Okay! Not too terrible, he only wiped out like. Twice. Running through a simplified track with the eye and heels? Ha. Ha ha oh god he makes his jumps but rolls right off the ledge, slips and falls on his ass, or misses his mark and lands on the mats he'd laid out double thick because he kind of saw this coming, even if he hoped he would be hitting the ground so much. He could (and does) catch himself with the flight ring if the fall's too far but- he wants to swing this on his own. Ugh. After another round of eating mat he pops the shoes off and pulls on an eyepatch to run through it like he would've the week before. No distractions, no additions.


[ Closed to Tucker ]

"So how 'bout that sparring match, bro?" He shoots off the message while the steady thud of the ball he's using to practice tracking with the new eye rattles around his bar- and the quiet chitter of Emu requesting treats lays in the background. Under that? Idle acoustic music Delta's chosen to calm them both from a day of over-stimulation and bruising while he sits off to the side in his robotic body, folding laundry. "Wanna give me some pointers for sword work in exchange for agility tricks?"


[ Closed to Locus ]

Dealing by not dealing is in fact a thing. Dealing by distracting himself with, well. The eye, Emu (now dozing on his chest as he lounges), and the shoe shit is also a thing but it doesn't work when he takes his bruises and his new eye and stops for a little bit. Time to chill is time to think and to look back at, well. Everything. The night on the beach, the night after his friend date with Azucar (Sombra), the face Sam made when he loomed in. So resigned, so quietly sad. Delta's been spamming him with those Sad Eyes whenever he's had enough of York's circular logic as a way of passive aggressively requesting to be pulled. As much as he'd needed him today to help with the eye adjustment? Now he's kind of over that reminder-

And his brain is STILL locked on that expression. Ugh.

Comments

so this is happening

[agnominal]

He's following advice from Tucker.

What on Earth possessed him? This is foolish, exceedingly foolish, but people seem ready and willing to shower him with all manner of advice regarding this 'situation'. The largest consensus, however, still seems to be that he should make some kind of move. A gesture. Not cornering him for a kiss, obviously.

No, instead, he's standing at the door to his little psuedo-Texas ranch house with a covered plate and a knot of anxiety sitting tight and heavy in his gut. Well. He's knocking. So there's no turning back now.

No reason he should be nervous. If nothing else, it can be a friendly gesture, and things will remain normal. Yes? Yes.

oh god here we go

[goddamngrenades]

Emu chirps and scurries around to burrow into Taylor's hair as he levers himself up, walking around to pop the door open. And there he is, Sam looking much less sad and ever so slightly...anxious? His own concern coils in his gut and Emu, ever helpful, rumbles something close to a purr to soothe him. Everything's fine, nothing's wrong, it's just a friend with pancakes, right? Right.

Delta's off for the moment hanging with Theta or something, whatever he does when he's not with York and this is.

Just a friendly visit. He smiles. "Hey Sam."

[agnominal]

Locus stares a moment at the creature nesting itself in York's hair. Must be what eventually hatched out of that egg he'd been carrying around for so long. Not a species he recognizes but...cute.

Finally, his eyes drift back down. "Taylor. I brought you something."

And the covered plate his hands is extended, slowly. No sense inviting himself in if Taylor would rather he not linger. It's hard to tell. Between his showboating during sparring matches and his ostensible need for space? It's all very confusing.

[goddamngrenades]

"Oh, sweet! Come in-" It'll be fine. They're friends, they're gonna stay friends, they're both happy like this, right? Right. Emu kneads at his hair in a further attempt to sooth and offers a soft warning chirrup as he nearly misses Sam's hands entirely when taking the plate. Right. Depth perception. He sighs and waves Sam in instead of taking the plate.

"Still getting used to having two eyes, sorry."

Mess Hall

[pump_action]

Claire is simply glad she can sugar her coffee to her heart's content and get back on her morning routine.

Not that anything here is ever normal for long. She pauses as she passes York and watches him feed the little ... thing ... atop his head. It's creepily not like anything from their world, prehistoric or otherwise, and she can't help but narrow her eyes at it for a moment.

"Nice hat. Does it bite?"

[goddamngrenades]

"So far? No. Emu wave to the pretty lady." Emu does in fact sit up enough to wave a tiny paw at Claire, bright eyes focused on her. Not bad for a newborn. "She's a Monala. They're therapy pets, mostly-"

Taylor reaches up and offers Emu a hand, the tiny thing skitter rolls from the top of his head into his palm to be held up for Claire's inspection. Fuzzy body, chubby little wings and a massively fluffy tail all tied together to make her adorable.

[pump_action]

Claire will actually take a seat, setting her datapad down and sipping from her coffee; she had a moment to spare.

"A therapy pet?" She's watching it, not quite courageous enough to reach out and pet it but her experiences in the park have given her a greater appreciation for animals in general.

When they're not, you know, trying to eat her face.

"I didn't have pets growing up, what - exactly - makes a therapy pet different than a regular one?"

[nofortunateson]

North is enough of a believer in this entire superhero business to know he should probably be ready for anything and at any time. That said, the longer they're here, the more Theta lets him sleep, and that's what he's doing when his communicator catches a call at some frankly unreasonable hour of the night.

Theta isn't resting, though, so he picks it up on the first ring, ready as usual to pass on any actual emergencies.

"Hi Taylor!" It's not a great hour for most humans to be awake, but he does like having company while North's sleeping - it breaks up all the processing and compiling and other routine work he doesn't actually need to be unconscious for.

[goddamngrenades]

"Theta the egg's hatching please what do I do?" Half asleep his own damn self and it's, well. Delta prepared him for this and he's got the rough logistics down. Keep it close, keep it warm, have a bowl of dust nearby for cleaning (What even) after it cracks free and he's got all of those things but-

It's.

Still a big moment. "What if it's early. What if it's a dud? What if I shook it around too much and it comes out all lopsided-"

[nofortunateson]

"Omigosh." A quick look through free-to-access resources shows three very well-regarded caretaker manuals on this that he sets to consolidating the 'care and hatching' chapters of, which is something that can happen in the relative background while he talks to Taylor and starts North's alarm beeping to wake him up. "That's really exciting! Delta's there too, right?"

B

[prettycoolguy]

The Chief is on his way in to get some work done on the heavy bag when he catches sight of York's... whatever York is doing. As he passes, the situation (and why York is doing terribly at something he's usually good at) becomes clearer.

Is he wearing heels? He's wearing heels. Freelancers.

"Did North put you up to this?" he asks, tone all polite curiosity.

[goddamngrenades]

Heels AND a new eye. Adjusting takes work, go figure. York tucks and rolls from what would've been a flat faced fall if he'd tried to grab the ledge and pops back up to his feet, glowing green heels a good six or some odd inches tall. It gives him a slightly better view of Chief's chest.

"Kinda?" A beat. "Maybe a little. If he can do it, I need to be able to do it better and this is one form of competition that probably won't get us killed. Probably."

[prettycoolguy]

Now that York's facing him, he really catches the new eye. It's an unexpected detail, less obvious than the things on his feet.

"You're certainly more ambitious," the Chief says. North had been keeping things a bit less acrobatic when he ran across him. "New hardware keeping up?"

Which is to say: Hi York, I see you have a new eye, is it nice?

Gym B

[thebioticwoman]

So. There's a guy in high heels running an obstacle course. That certainly is a thing that's happening. Shepard's bicep curls are proceeding on autopilot, her attention more on the floor show than the weight bench she's currently occupying. When he wobbles on the push off and misses a jump, her baffled amusement switches immediately to action. The dumbell hits the floor with a resounding crash (she can curl a good ton now--thanks, cybernetics!) and she catches him in a biotic field, the both of them enveloped in the blue-white halo of dark energy.

Yeah, she forgot about the flight rings. Sorry.

"You okay?" With a gesture, she lowers him to the mat, her eyes still blanked out by the biotic glow.

thought it said 'jim beam' for a sec and went 'woo drinking with shep'

[goddamngrenades]

Well that sure was a missed ledge and an impending fall- and then a glow he can't quite clock catching him neat as anything. Impressive! Startling, sure, but impressive. York manages to get his feet under him and lands easily once he's on the ground, eyes flicking up to (aw shit she's hot aw shit she's skilled what is his life) his knight in glowing biotics. "I'm good, thanks for the save."

When in doubt? Don't be an ass. He gives a little self depreciating shrug, rubbing the back of his neck while a smile pulls crookedly on the side of his face that's sill scarred. "Still getting used to the new eye."

hey, that can also happen

[thebioticwoman]

Old scars, well healed. But the eye is new? Shepard could have sworn he's one of the rowdy group from the Master Chief's universe, and they certainly have the tech to replace an eye. Still, adapting to cybernetics does take time. She'd be the first to agree with that, but first impulse here isn't to blame the eye. Her own perfectly functional pair flicks down to his badly-shod feet for a moment before her gaze returns to his face. "You sure it's the eye?"

Mess Hall

[short_changed]

It's taken a bit for her to really get back out into the world and stay there; and hey, even she gets bored of eating the same few meals she regularly makes around her fire pit. Which makes the bustle of the mess hall a nice change. Lots of life everywhere for her to keep an eye on without necessarily having to be a part of it. She'd grab a plate of something and find a corner to people watch, maybe.

That had been the plan, up until she spots York sitting at his own table; stock still and very awkward with the odd puffball on his head.

Curiosity piqued Connie makes her way over, quietly setting her tray of food down beside him as she helps herself to one of the empty seats at the table.

"That's some fancy hat you've got there, Tay."

[goddamngrenades]

"Say hi to Connie, Emu." The little grey puffball turns her wide eyes to CT, tail twitching from where it's curled up around her. Small and warm and fluffy and somewhat distracting, he knows. Enough that he takes the time to turn his head and face her fully. The milky white eye of the accident is well and gone, leaving the glowing iris of his replacement focused on her. "She's my therapy Monala. We're, uh. Bonding. Feeding is part of the bonding process."

As was carting around that egg.

[short_changed]

Connie blinks when she catches the attention of the- monala? Whatever that is. Looked kind of like an evolved chinchilla though.

"You named her Emu?" she says with a curious arch of a brow. Judging by the colouring it looks like the name's a good fit. "She's cute."

Connie glances down at York's plate a moment and making note of a distinct lack of a certain breakfast food.

"Have you fed her any pancakes yet?"

Legion Medical

[truefaceofthelaw]

Unfortunately for York, the ball has rolled to a stop against a pair of green boots, whose movement halts in its tracks as soon as it feels the slight nudge. Rico bends down to pick up the ball, looks at it, then at York consideringly.

"Sure."

He glances down at the ball again, like he's still figuring out the taste of how the words form in his mouth, then wraps his fingers around it in a tight grip.

"Catch."

Then without so much as a wind-up to warn him, he pitches it at his chest as hard as he can.

[goddamngrenades]

Before he gets a chance for the friendly, average 'sweet, thanks-' the ball's hurtling at him and not a light toss either. Delta slams into the forefront of his mind, York taps into the odds of the situation and gives them a nudge in favor of not missing-

But that's still a fastball coming at his goddamn sternum at whatever the hell speed this guy can swing. Jesus fuck. Eyes lit up green and blue he manages to snag it bare handed before it hit's his chest, barely. "Ow- christ, man, what's your deal?"

Honestly the uniform ought to be a hint but- America's cool. Ish. Relatively.

[truefaceofthelaw]

"What? You caught it, didn't you?"

Rico's gravel tone is amused, but he's definitely not smiling. It wasn't a bad catch at all, though he'd hoped the other would choke on it. At least it still hurt, judging by his little outburst. He casually hooks his thumbs through his belt, giving the impression of indifference.

"Here's a suggestion. Maybe you shouldn't be throwing that thing around other people if you can't even do that."

Mess Hall

[unrecovered]

Wash is grabbing a fruit snack of his own when he catches sight of York, plus an unusual passenger and minus the egg that's been virtually attached to him at the hip. It's not hard to put two and two together here, and he crosses the mess hall and plunks himself down next to York. "Funny, I don't remember Delta being cute and fuzzy."

[goddamngrenades]

"Probably because this isn't Delta. Wash, meet Emu." At the sound of her name Emu perks up, large ears swiveling forward to take in all of this new person. New, big person. With fruit. She leans forward, one chubby paw resting on the bridge of York's nose for balance as she strains to sniff at the air between them. "I blame you for this. One joke. One joke while she's an egg and now it's all she'll answer to."

[unrecovered]

"Oh my God it stuck." Wash is grinning, his glee audible in his tone. He hadn't thought the name would take, but evidently it has. "You did say I could name her." He puts his fruit down and offers a hand for her to sniff.