crux_fleet | (no subject)

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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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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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