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(no subject)

Who: Nathan Drake and Chloe Frazer
What: Discussions
Where: Street of Gods
When: backdated to before the event
Warnings: dumb treasure hunters

[Nate has spent the last week or so waiting, watching his arm heal from the shot gifted to him by Lazarevic. Since the incident (and, of course, due to their history prior to it) there's no great interest in helping him whatsoever, outside of keeping himself and his partner alive. Its a joke, really. He is pretty certain that if he told anyone who understood exactly what was going on, they'd think it was an elaborate joke.

They would also probably not find it very funny. Even Nathan Drake, who found humor in most everything, was finding himself frustrated by the feeling of being cornered. But Nathan Drake also never stayed cornered for long.

He's ignoring all "duties" today to walk the Street of Gods, though he's taken a seat in a more secluded corner to sketch what he's learned so far from his excursions into different houses of worship. Somewhere in between, he had shot a ping to Chloe, to try and convince her to wander down his way and play hooky before checking in with the boss for the day.

Or after. It didn't really make a difference to him -- and if she didn't show, he'd just go and find her, just like last time.]

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[She's not interested in bunking off. A week prior, sure, slipping in as many jabs as possible to Lazarevic's heels while he's glancing the other way would've been just fine with her, but now--

Chloe's sporting a high collar beneath her coat, dark hair loose enough to cover her ears and a few angled sections of her face. It's not cold or windy, and it's far from her usual sort of dress, but these are far from their usual circumstances. Meaning Chloe stays a few feet off with her fingers stuck down deep in her pockets as she catches up to him from behind.

She knows well enough Nate would only track her down again if they don't go through with this. ]

Something wrong?

[Nate spots her from his position, but he doesn't move to get up -- not even when she gets close. He simply lets her pick where she wants to stand and keeps at his task of scribbling in his journal, frowning just a bit when she asks her question.]

Where do you want me to start?

[Relatively speaking, they were alive. But what else was there right now? He very deliberately pauses to turn and look up at her to note the high collar, and general state of dress without actually commenting on it.

After, he will go right back to what he was doing.]

How about the part where we do as we're told and try not to get killed because we can't play nice?

[Something she was perfectly fine at before Nate managed to come crashing into her business time and time again-- she didn't like it, but when things go this far down into the toilet you don't keep jamming your hand in to try and salvage it.]

[Unless you're name is Nathan Drake. Still, it gets him to stop doodling for a second, just so he can pinch his forehead. She was right about one thing -- it was certainly a fucking mess.]

How was I supposed to know he drank the super human kool-aid?

[He doesn't close the journal, but its clear he's halted enough for now.]

"Doing as we're told" might buy us a few weeks at most.

Look I know your usual tactic is crash straight through the bloody wall and piss on anything that might prove a problematic consequence, but if we're not stupid about this we could do one hell of a lot better playing along than the days your normal route would give us.

[Remember Tibet? Remember Nepal? Syria, Shambhala-- Chloe can count off more mistakes than wins if he gives her the chance.]

What exactly are you hoping for here?

Hey, at least the days are over quickly.

[Nate has never been a planner -- he fairs much better thinking on his feet. Its not a secret to anyone, when its one of his greatest strengths.

And that is why sitting around and waiting bothers him so much. Makes him paranoid, makes him itch. He runs his hand a bit stressfully through his hair before getting himself on his feet to turn to Chloe.]

I didn't think that far ahead, ok?

[Its not snapped, but he does turn pretty quickly on her.]

[It should her sharp, that. Make her defensive or angry or any number of things, but in this case, it doesn't: he's genuine when he huffs if out in obvious (potentially misdirected) frustration. And she knows it.]

Well I did. [Her voice is even. Gentle.] And I need you to trust me.

If I didn't trust you, don't you think I would've made that clear by now?

[After all, it was pretty clear for a few weeks that he didn't trust a single hair on her head, back in Exsilium. What they hell were they going to do if Sully ever showed up here? Or Charlie? Or Elena?]

[They're not meant to. He wasn't meant to.]

Not in general, Christ. [Chloe pinches the bridge of her nose, lips thinning out.] Nate, I know nearly everything he does. I know where he goes, how often-- and that's excluding all the time I spent stuck back in his camp.

I'm not going to let him off you, all right?

[He just stares at her for a few long moments, like she just said something really hurtful and startling.]

Chloe-- [He reaches to hold her shoulders.] --this isn't about him offing me. He's gunning for the military, he's gathering weapons, he's Superman without kryptonite. What are you going to do if someone else ends up here in the middle of all that?

[She shies away from that-- not his grip, just what he's implying-- chin dropping back a few degrees as she scoffs out something faintly resembling a smile. It'd look almost confident if not for the creases in her brow.] No one else is going to.

[It isn't a thought she can stomach.]

Edited 2014-04-02 13:10 (UTC)

Chloe.

[That just makes him tighten his grip. He can't have her in denial now.]

He knows about Elena.

[Somehow it stings more than it ought to, hearing that. And she's not entirely sure why. This time she does tug back against his hold.] Then you'd better spell out exactly what it is you need me to do before you start asking for more.

[Again. Her neck on the line again and it's never enough for him.]

[He almost releases her before her tone registers, which makes his grip slip just a little. No no no--]

I'm not asking for anything. I don't want you to do anything. It's not your job to do anything.

[He forces himself to let go after that, swallowing.]

You know what I want? I want you out of this mess. I want you away from him.

Then you're going to have to keep wanting because that's not an available option at this point. [It sounds like deflection-- maybe in a sense it is when it runs parallel to hard logic-- his words certainly sink deep enough for it. But Chloe isn't focusing on more than facts when she lifts her index finger to point out the line on her jaw leading back to the notched ear, well hidden behind a curtain of dark hair.] I'm a traitor to him, Nate. And you might not understand just what that is to Lazarevic, but believe me, I do.

I'm not about to let you die just for a few days worth of freedom at best.

Being a traitor is all the more reason to back off. You're at an even higher risk than I am.

[If she was hoping showing him that scar would get him to settle down, she's definitely wrong. His arm has done pretty well, all things considered. It was also in a much less lethal area. Seeing how he went for her just makes him more tense.

All Chloe is to Lazarevic is a resource; an incentive to cooperate. When she stops fulfilling that role, he will kill her.]

Don't be stupid. [That is dismissive. She hardly glances his way when she scoffs it off.] One week in and you're already sabotaging yourself: you'd never make it without me watching your back.

[Provided Lazarevic doesn't immediately play that game in reverse and wound Nate to bring her right back.]

Like I haven't heard that before. How do you think I survived before I met you?

[He folds his arms loosely, giving her a look. He was born sabotaged. But he's not going to say that.]

[Easy.]

Victor Sullivan.

[Another look. Because she's not...totally wrong.]

I can take care of myself, you know.

Anywhere else and I'd believe that. [Or if she weren't here to stand as leverage. Still, she taps him on the arm with an easy-- if not a touch forced-- little grin.]

What were you sketching, anyway?

[Nice deflection. Nate doesn't miss the attempted subject change, but he goes along with it -- if only because he doesn't really want to talk about it anymore either.

He pulls his journal back out and opens it for her to the first page where he started, to display various sketches of several different deities along with notes aside them -- most would have been unrecognizable otherwise, having originated from different universes.]

Nothing special.

[She plucks it from his fingers before he has much of a chance to object, eyeing his work with her head cocked to one side like a critic in a museum.] Dunno. I think it's charming.

[After that, though, she takes the opportunity to briefly flip through the rest of it: curiosity and nothing more. And there's only the slightest shift in expression once she catches sight of his drawings from Exsilium.

She says nothing about it.]

Charming probably isn't the right word. Gives me something to do.

["That isn't helping Lazarevic" goes unsaid.

He lets her look, until he notices that she's going backward and not forward. At that point, he wonders if he reaches out too quickly, if it will draw her attention to its significance rather than just looking like a regular doodle.

So he just waits with his arms folded, holding out his hand for it back expectantly.]

[Her fingers linger at the edge of the page full of notes on Facilier as she moves to pass the book back, which she imagines ought to soothe his impatience. Particularly when she doesn't say a word about it.

Or the heavy weight in her coat pocket.]

Nothing wrong with that so long as you've got something else to show for it. [Meaning inventory. Please tell her you're taking inventory.]

[He takes back the journal and just chuckles as he slips it back in his pocket.]

You mean some pulled strings to suit up Lazarevic and assist in his hostile universal take-over?

Or at least feigned at it. Seriously. [She sounds as exasperated as a parent telling their toddler to eat their bloody greens.]

[He tries not to laugh -- he really does. Even forces himself to stop chuckling by clearing his throat. His face only stays straight for a second, though -- the grin slides right back, easy.]

Yes, mother.

[More like "like hell".]

Nate. [Incredulous doesn't begin to cover it.]

Oh lighten up. You're the one living in the same flat as him, not me.

[It's telling, how quiet she is for a beat too long after he says it. 'Lighten up' doesn't belong in the same sentence-- let alone in the same paragraph as that-- and her features smooth out with the mental repetition of Lazarevic's demand to keep Nathan Drake in line.]

No, you're right about that. [It's always been the case with them, hasn't it? Why change anything else now.

She'll run for extra supplies to account for his half later.]

[--crap. He almost echoes the word. The second she doesn't answer him right away, he knows he's said something stupid and flinches for it.]

Come on, don't take it that way.

[He jams one hand in his pocket, the other running through his hair as he half turns away from that look he's giving her.]

I'm working on it, ok? I promise. Just...looking for alternatives in the mean time, you know? As opposed to spoonfeeding the asshole who tried to kill us.

[If his words stuck under her skin, she's careful to brush past it for the sake of making a point-- as patiently as possible.]

Earn his trust first-- however little he's willing to give-- before you go tugging the bloody rug out from under his feet, okay. Because the only way he's going to turn a blind eye to what you're up to is if he's confident he has the upper hand.

And I promise you, he's not that careless yet.

[He almost throws his arms out and asks how the hell he's supposed to do that--

But now isn't the time. He'll just have to figure it out as he goes, just like always. His shoulders deflate a little and his hand drops from his hair to hang uselessly at his side. Its frustrating -- he remembers Lazarevic's gun being pointed at him, at Chloe, at Elena.

He doesn't want to play nice -- not even a little.]

In a few days.

[He finally turns back to Chloe, after unclenching the fist balled in his pocket.]

That's all I need.

[That she doesn't like the sound of. Which is why she can't let it lie, even after the circles they've managed to run round the entirety of this subject.]

And what happens then?

[He manages to smile a bit at that and shrugs, closing the distance they've managed to put between themselves.]

Dunno.

[He looks upward briefly behind her, to make sure nobody is watching before he reaches up to brush her hair off her shoulders and to her back in order to grip there confidently.]

I haven't thought that far ahead.

[The crease in her brow deepens at that. His hand is a weight on her shoulder, and not by any means one that invites security. Years ago, probably. But she's seen his confidence collapse their chances around them too many times to run on blind faith and the hard edge of his smile.]

You're a terrible liar, you know that.

That's why I let you do all the talking.

[See? He's learned a thing or two, at least. Let it never be said that Drake didn't pick up a trick or two during his many blunders.]

[Nate. Nate that is unfair. Nathan Drake that is unfair.]

Just try not to forget there's a limit to what I can do.

[He doesn't look like he's going to answer back, at first. But then, the smile slowly adopts teeth.]

I guess I've learned one or two of your limits over the years.

Oh, piss off. [It's said through the hard edge of her teeth as she fights the pull of her own lips. As she does a sorry job of not breaking just the slightest smile.

Christ.

Chloe shoves him off with her palm at the dead center of his chest. Gentle force and nothing more.]

[He chuckles and takes the shove, letting go of her when she does it. He got the smile -- that was all he really wanted.]

Hey hey, none of that. I'm an excellent secret keeper.

[She keeps her hand at his chest for a moment longer, registering the contours of the ring tucked away just beneath the surface of his shirt. The last time they'd left one another there was little time for contact-- comforting or otherwise.

This time that's still a constant, but for the moment, Chloe's content to pretend it isn't.]

So you are - amongst other things. [Regardless of that statement's potential, it's genuine. And chaste.]

[Bleeding heart that he is, Nate senses her desire for contact and very nearly reaches out again to try and ease it.

But if he's learned one thing about Chloe, it was always better to let her lead that dance -- not to mention the fact that he still has so much to learn about Chloe who's aged away from him. So he just lets the smirk soften at its edges, doesn't bother removing her hand.]

You'll have to sit down and remind me some day. The only thing ringing in my head is "bastard". Something about "ass", maybe.

[To avoid repeat context of his previous joke, he reaches up to set his hand on her's over his chest, patting it reassuringly.]

[If circumstances were different she might go soft under the gentle press of his palm. Atop the warm heat of his chest and the dull, steady thud of his heartbeat. They're not, though, and as if remembering herself or more accurately the image of herself that exists out of necessity, she draws back barely a breath later. Fingers slipping out and away from his own.]

Tch. It's just the ass that matters, anyway.

[He lets her shrink back and purposefully drops his eyes downward after her cue before letting them snap back to her face.

Well, he was trying not to go there.]

If only we were all so shallow.

If only.

[She says with the delicate curve of a smile, hands settling down into her pockets again as she turns purposefully on her heel and starts the lengthy walk home.]

See you the day after tomorrow, yeah?

[He folds one arm across his chest and gives a lazy mock salute in her direction. After all, he's not ready to loop back home just yet.

He has a job to do.]

Count on it.

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