[ maybe ash could have predicted this turn of events, but she's got no less of a sour expression on her face just because once again, saber chose to be a dick for no good reason. the thing is, the reason she even debased herself with a please is evident the minute she stomps in after him and punts one of the empty milk cartons directly at his head. her other wrist is shattered, nasty breaks that make the whole hand largely useless. she's stuck cradling it protectively near her chest, not even wrapped up yet.
it also makes retaliation difficult, but she's damn sure going to try. ]
[thunk goes the carton on his head. three seconds: one to look at with a vacant stare and assessing the damages, two to get up and walk over to her (too close for comfort), three to smack her upside the head.]
You didn't mention you were injured, Ash. [he looks down at her injured wrist.] Who fucked up?
[in a tone that suggests if it was her, he's going to mad. if it wasn't her, he's going to be violent.]
Maybe you should have just been fucking nice for once!
[ on the list of inconveniences to her day, the lack of food waiting for her actually ranks higher than the injury at this point. never let it be said that she has her priorities out of order. the smack lands and ash just scowls deeper, quick as a flash with a curled fist jab to his chest in retaliation. it's not really meant to hurt, just voice her irritation, and she doesn't bother to step back and create space between them.
if anything she draws in closer, scowl tight on her face as she squares up to him, goading. ash isn't actually going to fight him, probably, but she looks like she's considering it. ]
No one fucked up, I got the job done. [ sloppier than she'd like, clearly, but still done all the same. ] There was just more of them there than we'd last seen, that's all.
[they're basically eye to eye, and he's quiet for the most uncomfortable few seconds in the world. until he's not, and he's headbutting her in the face, right between the eyes into the soft cartilage of her nose. she started it, asked for it, is what he thinks.]
That was your first mistake. [he shoves her into the door, holds her at arm's length by the throat with one strong hand. with his free one, he reaches into the dresser, pulls out a shirt he doesn't care about and holds it up to her.] You're gonna need this in 3.
[that answer doesn't sound right, but he accepts it. there are more important things at stake here.]
[ it's over embarrassingly fast, but then it was probably always going to be. she's too banged up to do any serious damage, and ash needs to be at the top of her game to pose any serious threat to saber. she knows this — they both know this, actually, so maybe it was a kindness of a kind that he'd shut a more savage fight down before it even began.
that doesn't stop her from fighting his grip like a caged animal, swinging viciously with both fists at the soft tender parts of his body that might be more vulnerable. she only stops when she really can't fight it any more, her face goes grey and pale, and she pulls her broken wrist back up into a guarding position again. ]
You're a cunt. [ spat right into his face with the blood alongside it, just because she can. she has to stop trying to claw his wrist at her throat open in order to take the shirt, stem the bleeding, and it feels like admitting defeat, but she does it anyway. ] Back pocket.
[she's a cat under his thumb, claws tearing into his skin and leaving lines of red along his arm. he doesn't blink when she spits at him, but he does flash a toothy grin. blood splatters and speckles his face, but he keeps her trapped against the door, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her neck.
when she takes his shirt, he shoulders up beside her so she can't get a kick in while he reaches into her back pocket to pull out his gift. it is a gift to him, one she should always be bringing back.]
Milk's under my bed.
[sweet release! not without one last shove against the door, though. then he's seemingly waving her off, giving her back a hefty pat.]
I didn't take your bag, by the way. [lighting up, cigarette held between two fingers when he inhales.] Some guy did.
[ the fight goes out of ash somewhere between stemming the flow of blood from her nose and the pat on her back, and she slumps back against the door, head hitting the wood with a soft thump as she casts her gaze up to the ceiling.
aside from the obvious broken wrist ash doesn't look too worse for wear, honestly. a scraped-up elbow, dirt soaked into the knees of her jeans. she'll have to check in the mirror later to see if she's going to have to add broken nose to that list, but for now she's seemingly content to ignore the ghoulish look of blood all down her face, in favour of heaving an irritated sigh. ]
It really will blow up in their face if they open it. Like literally.
[ explosives would have been really fucking useful today, actually, but she doesn't really want to do a mission report yet, so she keeps that thought to herself. mostly she just wants to give saber pause if he does actually still have the stupid bag, because he would absolutely lie for sport. ]
[he crosses his arms and leans up against the wall across from her.]
Raíz will fix him if he dies, and Queen will figure it out if he doesn't. [he shakes his head, mouthing duh in a very sarcastic, teenage girl fashion. he eyes her wrist.] There was seriously more than usual?
[he's 100% lying for sport, and he's going to keep playing along until he can't anymore. she's an ugly sight with all that mess on her face, staining her clothes and smeared around from his shirt. the bag is under the bed with the very last carton of milk.]
Bummer. You got out, though, huh? When are you gonna leave a fight without a broken bone?
[ which is....debatable, actually, but it's been long enough since she's had a job go that cataclysmically bad that the generalisation feels fair. ash has earned her reputation as good old reliable, not afraid to get her hands dirty--it's just that usually she likes them a little less dirty than this.
it's all starting to set in now though, the throb of her nose and her wrist in tandem as she drags her good hand messily under her nose. the shirt is ruined, but at least the bleeding is starting to slow, and she huffs out a long exhale before her eyes find saber again. ]
There was only supposed to be three, ended up more like ten? I think. I don't know, old intel maybe. I should've checked before I went in.
[he grins as he takes another drag, dimples making a sweet picture that doesn't reach his eyes.]
Always check. Always check, that's what I taught you. Am I barking up a dead tree?
[that's not the saying, but he's said it so many times and been corrected too many times that everyone already knows that he's never changing it. he doesn't get out on the field with her as much as he used to now that she's more experienced and he's got eyes for new and shiny recruits, but parts of him do miss it.
Yeah, yeah. I guess it was me that fucked up, after all.
[ ash toys with the idea of asking for a cigarette, she'd given up the remainder of what she had left in the interest of that useless bag lead, but honestly she's not up for another fight right away. maybe when she's in better shape, or more pissed off. the worst of her anger has bled away along with her nose, and now mostly all that remains is a bone deep tiredness.
there are--options, at least options that don't involve saber and whatever he's going to demand of her in return, but truth be told this job was sloppier than she'd like, and maybe part of her thinks that she deserves whatever recompense he'll slap her with. ]
[he loves a good surrender. he tips his head, gaze shifting toward his bed.]
If you can get the milk. [he knows she will (and also find her bag), which is why he's already rummaging around his room. stuffing his phone into his back pocket, rustling through clothing and drawers while muttering to himself: 'where did i put it? oh yeah'] Meet you in the bathroom.
[off he goes to the master bath after snatching up spare clothes for her, setting up an array of tools and bandages on the counter.]
[ ash steps away from the door, but she waits until he has left the room to do anything else, mostly because she wants the privacy of the space to be able to gingerly touch her nose and let a string of muttered curses out. it fucking hurts actually, a lot. she might have gotten used to taking a beating when the situation demanded it, but that doesn't ean she feels the pain any less, just that she's gotten better at tolerating it.
besides, it's very undignified the way that she has to scrabble under the bed, and not the sort of thing that she wants anyone to bear witness to, as she shuffles her torso under, supported on her good arm, and then has to promptly flatten out onto her stomach and slide back out, the other one useless for any kind of support. there's also the matter of the way that her head bangs up against the underside of the frame when she sees the bag, paired with another string of curses.
all in all, better that she wasn't witnessed.
the bag is slung over her shoulder when she gets to the bathroom, no effort ade to hide her pissy little scowl, but she just sets it down--carefully-- on the floor before she comes to stand in front of the sink, leaning a hip back against it and staring at him. ]
You're so fucking annoying, you know that? Like I really, really want you to know that.
[he mock-whines at her insult, hands already the hem of her shirt to help lift it up and off of her. for hands meant for brutality, they're surprisingly delicate when they want to be, making ginger movements to get her arm out of the sleeve without adding any more pain. he treats her as a mannequin to be dressed, no wandering eyes or hidden intentions. his spare shirt is pulled over her, then his attention is directed to her wrist.
any joking or attitude disappears while he hones in on the repairs. cigarette between his teeth, he'll instruct her to tap it into the sink every now and then and return it to his mouth while he works. he cleans any broken skin, wraps and adds a splint to her wrist.]
Do you know what would have been really useful to have had today, actually?
[ she says it conversationally, voice such a good approximation of friendly banter that it would fool most. probably not saber, he's known ash for too long for pretences to come across as anything other than what they are at this point, but she still makes a point not to sound angry.
this time when she taps the cigarette for him she holds onto it afterwards, taking a drag of her own, and she doesn't place it back right away. a particularly tight tug of the bandage wrapping around her wrist makes her wince, but she blinks it off, exhaling smoke upwards, and she's not trying to blow it in his face, but she's not avoiding it either. ]
[he pauses for half a second, processing. then he finishes wrapping her up, taking a too-long piece of tape to seal everything together. had he accidentally caused more of a problem than he needed without trying?]
Whoops. [he feigns an apologetic smile, holding back a laugh.] Label your shit.
[because it's her fault, and now if anything is labeled, he can fuck around with it on purpose.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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i'm not
spare us both the displeasure
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what are you doing
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what are you doing?
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i'm not making you cereal it's 2 ingredients
step 1 and step 2. you can't follow 2 steps?
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can you do it anyway?
ETA 15
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i can't read
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please
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i'll make you your cereal
[when she gets home she'll find a bowl next to a box of cereal. 3 empty cartons sit next to the sink.
there is no more milk or milk variant left in the house.]
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it also makes retaliation difficult, but she's damn sure going to try. ]
You're a little fucking prick, you know that?
cw mild .... abuse ???
You didn't mention you were injured, Ash. [he looks down at her injured wrist.] Who fucked up?
[in a tone that suggests if it was her, he's going to mad. if it wasn't her, he's going to be violent.]
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[ on the list of inconveniences to her day, the lack of food waiting for her actually ranks higher than the injury at this point. never let it be said that she has her priorities out of order. the smack lands and ash just scowls deeper, quick as a flash with a curled fist jab to his chest in retaliation. it's not really meant to hurt, just voice her irritation, and she doesn't bother to step back and create space between them.
if anything she draws in closer, scowl tight on her face as she squares up to him, goading. ash isn't actually going to fight him, probably, but she looks like she's considering it. ]
No one fucked up, I got the job done. [ sloppier than she'd like, clearly, but still done all the same. ] There was just more of them there than we'd last seen, that's all.
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That was your first mistake. [he shoves her into the door, holds her at arm's length by the throat with one strong hand. with his free one, he reaches into the dresser, pulls out a shirt he doesn't care about and holds it up to her.] You're gonna need this in 3.
[that answer doesn't sound right, but he accepts it. there are more important things at stake here.]
Where are my cigarettes?
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that doesn't stop her from fighting his grip like a caged animal, swinging viciously with both fists at the soft tender parts of his body that might be more vulnerable. she only stops when she really can't fight it any more, her face goes grey and pale, and she pulls her broken wrist back up into a guarding position again. ]
You're a cunt. [ spat right into his face with the blood alongside it, just because she can. she has to stop trying to claw his wrist at her throat open in order to take the shirt, stem the bleeding, and it feels like admitting defeat, but she does it anyway. ] Back pocket.
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when she takes his shirt, he shoulders up beside her so she can't get a kick in while he reaches into her back pocket to pull out his gift. it is a gift to him, one she should always be bringing back.]
Milk's under my bed.
[sweet release! not without one last shove against the door, though. then he's seemingly waving her off, giving her back a hefty pat.]
I didn't take your bag, by the way. [lighting up, cigarette held between two fingers when he inhales.] Some guy did.
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[ the fight goes out of ash somewhere between stemming the flow of blood from her nose and the pat on her back, and she slumps back against the door, head hitting the wood with a soft thump as she casts her gaze up to the ceiling.
aside from the obvious broken wrist ash doesn't look too worse for wear, honestly. a scraped-up elbow, dirt soaked into the knees of her jeans. she'll have to check in the mirror later to see if she's going to have to add broken nose to that list, but for now she's seemingly content to ignore the ghoulish look of blood all down her face, in favour of heaving an irritated sigh. ]
It really will blow up in their face if they open it. Like literally.
[ explosives would have been really fucking useful today, actually, but she doesn't really want to do a mission report yet, so she keeps that thought to herself. mostly she just wants to give saber pause if he does actually still have the stupid bag, because he would absolutely lie for sport. ]
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Raíz will fix him if he dies, and Queen will figure it out if he doesn't. [he shakes his head, mouthing duh in a very sarcastic, teenage girl fashion. he eyes her wrist.] There was seriously more than usual?
[he's 100% lying for sport, and he's going to keep playing along until he can't anymore. she's an ugly sight with all that mess on her face, staining her clothes and smeared around from his shirt. the bag is under the bed with the very last carton of milk.]
Bummer. You got out, though, huh? When are you gonna leave a fight without a broken bone?
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[ which is....debatable, actually, but it's been long enough since she's had a job go that cataclysmically bad that the generalisation feels fair. ash has earned her reputation as good old reliable, not afraid to get her hands dirty--it's just that usually she likes them a little less dirty than this.
it's all starting to set in now though, the throb of her nose and her wrist in tandem as she drags her good hand messily under her nose. the shirt is ruined, but at least the bleeding is starting to slow, and she huffs out a long exhale before her eyes find saber again. ]
There was only supposed to be three, ended up more like ten? I think. I don't know, old intel maybe. I should've checked before I went in.
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[he grins as he takes another drag, dimples making a sweet picture that doesn't reach his eyes.]
Always check. Always check, that's what I taught you. Am I barking up a dead tree?
[that's not the saying, but he's said it so many times and been corrected too many times that everyone already knows that he's never changing it. he doesn't get out on the field with her as much as he used to now that she's more experienced and he's got eyes for new and shiny recruits, but parts of him do miss it.
secretly.]
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[ ash toys with the idea of asking for a cigarette, she'd given up the remainder of what she had left in the interest of that useless bag lead, but honestly she's not up for another fight right away. maybe when she's in better shape, or more pissed off. the worst of her anger has bled away along with her nose, and now mostly all that remains is a bone deep tiredness.
there are--options, at least options that don't involve saber and whatever he's going to demand of her in return, but truth be told this job was sloppier than she'd like, and maybe part of her thinks that she deserves whatever recompense he'll slap her with. ]
So will you fix me up?
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If you can get the milk. [he knows she will (and also find her bag), which is why he's already rummaging around his room. stuffing his phone into his back pocket, rustling through clothing and drawers while muttering to himself: 'where did i put it? oh yeah'] Meet you in the bathroom.
[off he goes to the master bath after snatching up spare clothes for her, setting up an array of tools and bandages on the counter.]
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besides, it's very undignified the way that she has to scrabble under the bed, and not the sort of thing that she wants anyone to bear witness to, as she shuffles her torso under, supported on her good arm, and then has to promptly flatten out onto her stomach and slide back out, the other one useless for any kind of support. there's also the matter of the way that her head bangs up against the underside of the frame when she sees the bag, paired with another string of curses.
all in all, better that she wasn't witnessed.
the bag is slung over her shoulder when she gets to the bathroom, no effort ade to hide her pissy little scowl, but she just sets it down--carefully-- on the floor before she comes to stand in front of the sink, leaning a hip back against it and staring at him. ]
You're so fucking annoying, you know that? Like I really, really want you to know that.
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[he mock-whines at her insult, hands already the hem of her shirt to help lift it up and off of her. for hands meant for brutality, they're surprisingly delicate when they want to be, making ginger movements to get her arm out of the sleeve without adding any more pain. he treats her as a mannequin to be dressed, no wandering eyes or hidden intentions. his spare shirt is pulled over her, then his attention is directed to her wrist.
any joking or attitude disappears while he hones in on the repairs. cigarette between his teeth, he'll instruct her to tap it into the sink every now and then and return it to his mouth while he works. he cleans any broken skin, wraps and adds a splint to her wrist.]
One more minute, almost done.
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[ she says it conversationally, voice such a good approximation of friendly banter that it would fool most. probably not saber, he's known ash for too long for pretences to come across as anything other than what they are at this point, but she still makes a point not to sound angry.
this time when she taps the cigarette for him she holds onto it afterwards, taking a drag of her own, and she doesn't place it back right away. a particularly tight tug of the bandage wrapping around her wrist makes her wince, but she blinks it off, exhaling smoke upwards, and she's not trying to blow it in his face, but she's not avoiding it either. ]
Fucking explosives.
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Whoops. [he feigns an apologetic smile, holding back a laugh.] Label your shit.
[because it's her fault, and now if anything is labeled, he can fuck around with it on purpose.]