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@agentdovers
im not crying you’re crying

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I'm sorry.
In the past few months I have played Dover, I've gotten the opportunity to grow as a writer and meet all of y'all wonderful people who really made me positive and happy not only with myself, but in spite of the things happening in my personal life. Dover means a lot to me, and has become quite a large part of who I am-- which is why I find it so hard to let go. However, I find myself unable to bring myself to do much of anything with him lately.
This part of the letter is to y'all. We've had our differences, but each and every one of you have wormed your ways into my heart, and provided a positive and safe space for me when not much else seemed to be making sense. You are my family outside of my family, which is another thing that makes giving up Dover so very difficult for me to do, emotionally. I can't possibly compress into words how much I love some of y'all, but I think the time has come for me to leave.
Roleplay has started to feel more like a duty and obligation than something I really enjoy doing. I am crying as I write this because I don't want it to be true-- I don't want to leave you guys, and I'm so angry that my depression and eating disorder have incapacitated me to this degree, that I am losing people that mean so much to me.
I had a lot planned for Doob, a lot that I will never be able to carry out, now that I am doing this. I wanted him to grow. I wanted him to break his and Charlie's heart, to become friends with Leo, to shoot to the top of the leaderboard, to become a hero. But those plans have all been cancelled due to my sudden emotional flatlining.
Maybe I'll come back, in a couple weeks. A month, maybe. But for now, I think it's best for me (and you) if I go while I'm ahead.
It's becoming quite difficult to type, now. It's hard to type with shaking hands. I've learned a lot of things today. Below you will find some notes to individual people who I feel like need an extra something said to them:
Charlie:
Man, you were one of the most important people to me from this entire group. You were positive and dealt with my annoying attitude. And I love you for it. Stay great, and never change, because you are going far.
Onion/Nash:
Fun fact: I didn't like you at first. Then you grew on me, and I think you're the best. You're clever and kind and listen to me whenever I have something to say. You always took the time to greet me and at least pretended to care about how I was. I thank you for that.
Augusta/Kat:
We've had our differences, but I do hope that there are no hard feelings. You meant as much to me as everyone else, and I really think you're swell. I love you, dude.
Draco:
You were always there to listen, man. You were funny and joined me in my antics. Even as I type this I smile because of how great of a person you were. Stay positive, buddy.
Cap:
Man, where do I start with you? You were clever and funny and witty and all around a pleasure to hang out with. It's a shame I couldn't do it for much longer.
Peg:
You're talented and sweet, and I really thank you for staying cool whenever I showed up with some dumb joke or story or something. Is that weird? I don't know. Stay golden, ponyboy.
Sage:
I'm having a really hard time saying goodbye to you. But I have you on my personal, and that's more than I can say for a lot of other people on this blog. Stay cool and keep in contact with me because I think you're the bestest.
Leo:
Ayy lmao
You're a wonderful writer with a wonderful character and wonderful attitude. I'm going to miss you, dudebro. And because of how close we were, I am so hesitant to give up Doob. I have some feeling of ownership towards him, and bonding towards you, both IC and OOC. I know I promised I would never leave, and I'm sorry I failed you. Please don't give up on Leo, you're the best writer for the job that anyone could ask for.
BismarCK:
You know everything I could tell you, because I already have. Stay wonderful, dude. I think you're awesome.
Oly:
dON'T TALK TO ME I DON'T WANT TO WRITE ANY MORE OF THESE BECAUSE I CAN'T SEE THROUGH MY TEARS YOU KNWO HOW MCUH YOU MEAN TO ME AND I'M GONNA MISS THE SKYPE CALLS AND THE DUMB JOKES AND THE LAUGHING AD THE EVERYTHING AND THE CARD AGAINST HUMANITY I CAN'T SAY ANYTHIGN TO YOU BECAUSE IT HURTS TO MUCH MAN I LVOE YOU
Chey:
I'M SOBBING GROSSLY YOU'RE A GREAT PERSON AND I LOVE EVERYTHING YOU ARE PLEASE NEVER CHANGE BECAUSE YOU'RE THE APPLE OF MY EYE YOU'RE THE SUIT TO MY BOWTIE YOU'RE THE GRIL TO MY CHES
Prov:
Thank you. Thank you so much. I don't know how to summarize my thoughts right now, I'm too much of a crying, shaking mess. I love you, and I love this group, and I love everything so much (almost too much) just
don't look at me
Alpha Family Dinner (@All Team Alpha)
[Not that Nashville, in any way, shape or form, stopped dancing when Dover came in. He was busy grating the cheese for the spaghetti, hips moving when a particularly good section of the music came up. He grinned over his shoulder at Dover, pointing the cheese grater at him.] Â
Look at that. Pep has arrived.
Take a seat. Nothing formal, just some pasta. You want something to drink?
[He nudged out one of the chairs closest to the stove for Dover, going back to his cheese.]Â
Meeting? Oh, man, no. I’m not, like, a leader or any of that shit.
I just figured that before gunfire starts we should get to know each other. That okay with you, Pep?
[God, he wasn't giving up on that nickname, was he?]
My name is Dover.
[He had half the mind to just go back to his room. The dinner was beginning to seem like a completely terrible and altogether poor decision on everyone's behalf. Besides, Nashville seemed to be having quite some fun, even in the rest of Alpha's absence. Dover wasn't too bright, that he had come to terms with, but he was smart enough to know that if his absence made no difference, neither would his presence. But he found himself sitting down anyways, not hungry at all, but deciding that forcing himself into the situation was likely to produce some kind of beneficial result. Hopefully.]
Did we not bond enough when you tried to jump my bones a week ago?
Alpha Family Dinner (@All Team Alpha)
[Nashville had slaved over a hot stove for, like, forty minutes to get dinner together. Not that he minded. He had on his Kiss the Cook apron, sleeves rolled up, dancing around the kitchen to some awesome new West Earth Techno Folk.
He’d even set the table, ready for his teammates to arrive. That was love, right there.
Nashville had prepared a big pot of spaghetti and meatballs, some garlic bread, and arranged everything out family style. Now all he had to do was wait for people to arrive.]Â
[First to arrive. Of fucking course he was the first to arrive. Dover hadn't wanted to come to the dinner, but the note on his door had been endearing at least, and he kind of owed it to him. Besides, Nashville intrigued him, and dinner sounded like a done deal. Any food sounded like a done deal. Hopefully there was going to be grilled cheese involved. Ideally.
Alas, there was not grilled cheese. Only spaghetti. What a damn time to be alive. Dover just looked around a bit awkwardly, feeling somewhat incomplete and incapable without Leo by his side. Leo always knew what to say. Dover did not.]
Is dinner really the only excuse you could manage for a meeting?
[Yeah, Dover was calling bullshit on this being genuine sentiment. Maybe it was his bitter, reluctantly caring nature. Maybe it was that Nashville ran him up one wall and down the other, and they had only ever held one conversation together. Maybe it was a lot of things. The only thing Dover could really secure in his mind was that he was going to give Nashville the hardest time possible. He wasn't quite sure what motivated him to do so, but something in him made him want to make someone else miserable.]
A Token of Friendship | Leo & Dover
The roll that pushed Leo’s hand away from Dover’s shoulder was something less intense than his former attempts at having contact with his Agent. The most body-to-body contact he’d ever had was through combat and combat training. He’d never even experienced a handshake. To have Dover roll the touch off casually instead of yanking it away like he had before meant a lot to Leo. Maybe it meant the touch was becoming more welcomed. Maybe it meant the words that they exchanged at the bar on Meridian were slowly losing their meaning.
Kind of cool. Interesting phrase.
Leo contemplated on what the phrase meant coming from Dover. He’d heard the phrase used many times before, all in different contexts. Did Dover mean that it was only a little bit cool? Did he mean that it was cool in general? Was he being sarcastic? There was a small twitch in between his brows that made it look like they were furrowed, but it faded as soon as Dover added that the thought was appreciated.
The A.I. beamed at his Agent. Straight teeth revealed by a charming smile, bright blue eyes to match the expression. Approval wasn’t something that Leo yearned to hear from many, since his confidence was still programmed the way it was the day he was activated, but ever since he had started to realize what feelings were, approval from Dover was something that he seeked.
"I’m really happy to hear that you like it, Dover! I recognized my constellation immediately and had to buy it. I’ve never seen anything like it… I hoped to find something that represented your name, but I was without luck." He frowned for a moment, but it didn’t last long. "All that matters is that you like your gift."
Reaching forward without really weighing the consequences, Leo grabbed Dover by the wrist and pulled his arm up (gently, unlike what he’d learned from Orion!) and examined the piece of jewelry on his companion’s wrist. It looked better than he could have imagined. “It matches you perfectly, Agent. It looks badass, if I do say so myself.” He laughed softly. Being around his Agent was something he’d truly missed.
"Glad to see you didn’t get sick, either…It may be an opportune time to start training again."
Was that the wrong thing to say?
Dover was regretting the compliment already. Leo was less like a lion, and more like a golden retriever. The moment Dover dared to give Leo and validation, he was all over. But he grinned and bore it, even as Leo grabbed his wrist and rattled on about being badass and healthy and training and-
Training? Oh yes. That was a thing that happened, wasn't it? Dover hadn't exactly been falling behind-- he still did exercise daily-- but he had been slacking off. Leo's reminder was well needed, in honesty. Nodding and smiling, Dover did his best to feed off of Leo's positive energy, rather than rebuff it and continue to wallow in his own pool of negativity.
"Train?" Dover asked, still recovering from Leo's smile. Had the Director programmed him with such a great grin, or had that been Leo's touch? "Yeah, of course." Dover said with a nod. "We need to get better, anyways."
Pulling his arm from Leo's grip, he added, "As a team."
It was the truth, something Dover was trying to teach himself to use more often. Solo training was only so effective, especially since Dover was paired up with Leo almost every other mission. So, deciding that the moment between them had lasted entirely too long and was getting entirely too uncomfortable, Dover glanced down the hall.
"Race you to the training room."

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Put one of these in my askbox to see how my Muse reacts.
"I love you."
"I hate you."
"You’re dead to me."
"I trust you."
"I’m dying."
"I’m pregnant with your baby."
"I never really loved you."
"I want you. Naked. In my bed. Now."
"I’m proud of you."
"I’m disappointed in you."
From now on, we will be using code names. —Agent Nashville
#Egg || Doob & Chuck
Hands working deftly, Charlie finished chopping the vegetables, and he put the remainder in the pot while Dover stood and watched. While he loved talking with Dover, even if it was about stupid, silly things like grilled cheese, Charlie also enjoyed the fact he didn’t feel the need to fill the gaps between comments. He would indulge in small talk with his friends, of course, but he appreciated the fact he felt he didn’t necessarily have to resort to it to get along with Dover. He wondered if Dover felt the same, and if perhaps the two had more in common than first appeared.
Normal?
"I d-dunno, I don’t remember m-my training being normal." Charlie had hated his training then, but for some reason now, it brought a faint smile to his face. "Pr-providence was always, ah, yelling at us t-to do something new and h-horrible. R-running with equipment o-or some unwinnable, ah, sc-scenario or something."
Something next to normal.
Charlie wasn’t sure what to make of the words. They seemed as optimistic as Dover would allow himself to be, and he decided to take that. He paused from the clean up to lean over and, were Dover to allow it, give him a quick kiss, just a peck, really.
"B-better than normal," he nodded. The two men had never spoken about their pasts, but to Charlie, that was a huge thing for him to say. The cryptographer spent so long searching for normalcy or some semblance of it that he had managed to make it into something it maybe wasn’t, but he truly believed that Dover surpassed that. Sometimes he still wondered how he had been so lucky as to catch the other’s eye in the first place. When he glanced over to take the ingredients and see if Dover shared the same sentiment, though, he didn’t quite see the same enthusiasm he himself felt.
Charlie wished he could reach out and give Dover the extra bit of comfort he thought would make all the difference. Unsurprisingly, though, Charlie found himself at a loss for words. A quick moment was spent staring down at the counter. It was his own fault, really. Maybe both of theirs. He knew that he enjoyed (almost) every minute he spent with Dover, but the fact was that to a degree, neither of them had taken steps to become close in certain ways. Charlie hesitated as he remembered Atlanta’s advice to be careful. Looking at Dover, though, he didn’t want to be careful - he just wanted the agent to be happy.
"Y-you know, if, um, s-something’s bothering you, I d-don’t mind listening." A pause. "M-my parents used to send me to people when I was, a um, k-kid. Trying to g-get rid of m-my talking problems, a-and th-the only thing I ever liked was h-how they would just listen. S-sometimes it, ah, um, helps a little."
Dover shifted through some pots and pans before pulling out one that he deemed the perfect size for what he was doing, setting it on the stove and pursing his lips, which had just moments ago been kissed by Charlie's.
"I could tell you what was bothering me," Dover said, turning on the stove and running a hand through his hair, "But you wouldn't believe half the shit I said."
Truly, Dover's life seemed more like some kind of corner-store action film than a real biography. No one cared about fucked up amputees who beat other people up because it made them feel like they were relevant for a few hours out of the day. Hell, no one even cared about fucked up amputees in the first place. And a lot of things were bothering Dover-- asking him what they were was such an unbelievably tall order.
As he peeled the wrapping from the butter, he asked himself, what was he being bothered by? Dover was always thinking about his family back on Mars. Did they miss him? Were they concerned about him? Did they even care how he was doing, or were they glad to have one less mouth to feed? Maybe they thought he had failed a mission and died. Dover wouldn't be surprised that they would come to such an assumption. Even as a teenager, the margin between fights he won and fights he lost was pretty close.
And then there were other things, more present and important and pressing matters. When was the next mission? Was everyone okay? How did he feel about Leo? How did he feel about Charlie? Where was the Director when everything was going to hell? Obviously, Dover had no answers to any of the aforementioned questions. So they stewed in his mind as he put the first slice of bread on the pan, staring at it with enough anger and frustration, that his gaze alone might have been cooking it.
"There's no..." Dover nearly stopped himself. "There's no easy way to talk about myself." He said with a shrug. "So I just don't."
That was the truth, wasn't it? Dover left out the part they he didn't think he even deserved any kind of emotional closure, anyways. It was difficult enough to admit to Charlie why he was so secretive when it came to his own life and his own feelings, so it would take quite a bit of effort on anyone's part to get the truth about anything out of Dover. Really, he didn't want to be difficult. He didn't wake up that day and think to himself, 'I'm going to give everyone a hard time'. It was something that came naturally to him.
Equinox Bomb Squad || Bismarck, Pyxis, Dover
Pyxis could feel his anger pique with each word the foul-mouthed Agent spoke at both him and Bismarck. It was not their fault that he was a danger to burning the Equinox down with his disgustingly burnt grilled cheese.Â
Pyxis remembers only running into Agent Dover once or twice but luckily, not many words were said. Now, he realizes what a buffoon he truly is. After this experience, he hopes never to run into this man again. He would gladly take Agent Raleigh over him and his toasted grilled cheese any day.Â
Once his voice became louder, directing at Bismarck who seemed to be taking this situation much lighter than anyone else, he stepped forward as to shield the younger man from the older one. “Watch your tone.” The words almost came out in a hiss with his eyes boring into the shorter man. “You do not have to explain yourself to him.” Directing the next comment at his agent, it was shortly after that he heard his voice in his head.Â
Yes, I know. He spoke as if they were on a phone call and needed to introduce themselves. It was nearly amusing. After he finished his speech about leaving the man be, Pyxis almost grunted. But he was probably correct. He must be more careful, he wouldn’t want light shined on him for getting in a heated argument with a pitiful human such as he. They might consider him a danger to the mission, take him apart and agree that he was too aggressive. This could not happen.
Fine, I suppose you are correct. Though, his sandwich looks completely disgusting. Do you humans truly enjoy food such as that? Leaving it at that, he held back any retort at cleaning, though the fire extinguisher wouldn’t have been used at all if the man hadn’t of nearly created a fire.Â
It wasn't his fault that he liked perfectly prepared sandwiches. Had Pyxis ever even tasted a well-prepared grilled cheese? Probably not. Or else he would be basking in the gooey, crunchy goodness of the sandwich that Dover had slaved over for a solid fifteen minutes to get perfect. Was it possible to rob an AI Unit of their ability to speak? The entire situation would have gone a lot smoother if Pyxis had just learned to shut the hell up.
But some things were inevitable, and Pyxis's entirely-too-chatty nature was just one of a long list of inevitable things. So Dover turned around and took one final, sidelong glance at the grilled cheese. He let out a deep sigh and looked slowly around the kitchen for anything to help clean. Dover was angry about it, truly, but there was no way he was going to force Bismarck to clean the entire mess up. Maybe it was Dover's pity for him, being old(er) and whatnot, but something inside him said that just because he was angry, didn't mean he had to treat Bismarck like shit.
Besides, Bismarck was one of the few agents who hadn't been proven to be a complete buttmunch (the irony of the nickname eluded Dover) when they first talked. Yeah, he probably had a few screws loose or something to be how he was, but that would be the pot calling the kettle black. The Freelancers were like some ragtag team of soldiers, destroying so many monsters that they forgot that they were also destroying themselves and those around them. It was a bit of a generalization-- Agent Juneau wasn't too bad. Charlie, of course, wasn't the worst either. But there was this air to all the Freelancers, that Dover knew well.
There were secrets that would never be told. This much, Dover knew. The Freelancers succeeded at, if anything, being incredibly and entirely too fucked up.
"We might want to get some towels. I don't think bare hands are going to cut it."
Now he was trying to be civil. After all, it'd be a lot easier to clean it if they all got along, right?

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A Token of Friendship | Leo & Dover
Dover’s response took a while longer than he was hoping for. It was silent for what seemed like hours after he established his mental link and transmitted his thought to his Agent. Is that what being anxious felt like? Truly, Leo was looking for approval from the one person he considered to be his best friend. And yes, that bracelet was there as some sort of metaphorical protection between the two of them. He hoped Dover would understand because his Agent didn’t seem to be the brightest crayon in the box.
I didn’t think you had a sentimental bone in that body of yours, Leo.
A smile cracked upon his features. He opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling, and laughed softly. What was this feeling? Happiness? The note that they’d left their relationship off on had been a rough one, but he was sure that this would help patch things up, if not only a little. He may have been an Artificial Intelligence, but he knew what friendship was.
Another moral he’d picked up from Forrest Gump.
Without further ado, Leo stood up from “his” couch and made his way out of the recreation room. He started off down the hallway towards Dover’s room, determined to see his friend in person for the first time since their shore leave. Coming up from behind Dover, Leo placed his hand on his shoulder. He’d done this numerous times before and it’d always been a mistake. Maybe this time it’d be taken the way he wanted it to be. The A.I. left a smile across his features, eyes softer than usual as he looked down at Dover’s wrist.
He was wearing the bracelet.
"While I don’t exactly have bones, Dover, I will admit that I have picked up on sentimental values by watching other humans since our time on Meridian. It was a great learning experience for me, actually." He laughed softly and waited for Dover to turn around to look him in the eye. Part of him was afraid of rejection, but the excitement of Dover actually wearing the bracelet and understanding the reference (hopefully) had overtaken this fear for the time being.
"I thought it would remind you that I’m always with you even when we’re not on the best terms. With all of the losses lately, I deemed it necessary to let you know I will protect you until the day I am destroyed or deactivated."
Ouch, deactivation. Why did he mention that? Leo was convinced that he’d never be deactivated, however. He was incredibly efficient and had proved himself as an A.I. to be helpful and loyal aside from his hard-headedness. He had also convinced himself that he’d fight to the death and find a way out of deactivation if the problem ever arose. He’d stay by Dover until they were forced apart by death.
When Leo touched him, Dover flinched slightly. Only slightly. He still wasn't too fond of the contact, even though he didn't mind it too much. Was allowing Leo to be his friend a bad idea? Absolutely. But Dover knew that he had spent an entire lifetime making bad choices, so maybe it was a good time to indulge in the habit. He shrugged his shoulder from Leo's grip in more of a lazy roll than an angered yank, turning and looking down at the bracelet.
He wasn't really the person to wear any kind of jewelry. Aside from his dogtags, Dover's repertoire of accessories was somewhere near nil. And yet, he liked it. Maybe an expansion of his collection (dare he call it that) wouldn't be too bad of an idea. After all, if he was going to try and get on good terms with Leo, he had to prove that the gesture meant something. And it did. There wasn't much effort required in showing Leo how much it meant.
In Dover's life, gifts had been few and far between. Even birthdays were sparse. But he didn't waste his energy thinking too much about it.
Then Leo was talking about Deactivation, and Dover became incredibly uncomfortable. Deactivation? Was that even a possibility? Dover didn't-- couldn't-- imagine it becoming a reality. Leo was just entirely too much to him. God, come to think of it, Dover would fight tooth and nail to keep him. How long had he felt that way? Leo was, if anything, a good comrade. He was a fighter and a friend, and there was no way in hell that he would be Deactivated.
"Yeah, it's-" He turned his wrist over, not quite sure what to say. "It's thoughtful, Leo. And kind of cool."
Kind of cool? Dover would have shaken his head, had he not been in Leo's presence.
"The thought is, uh... it's appreciated."
After so long of being an asshole to Leo, it was suddenly all the more difficult to actually be kind to him. Surely, Leo had some kind of thought process. Surely. It was a one-step-at-a-time sort of thing, honestly. Dover was a bit rusty in the friendship field, and as far as he knew, Leo was entirely new. So there he had it. Nothing could go wrong as long as his intentions were right, right?
Sorry Doesn't Count || Sage and Dover
It had been a….tough week to say the least.  With everyone sick and stuck either in their rooms or the med bay, there had been little they could do.  She couldn’t heal Agent Montgomery, only bring him food and make sure he got enough rest and didn’t get out of bed.  And then when Agent Jackson died, everything exploded.  People were worried.  She had been so scared.  Atlanta and Annapolis getting put to sleep and taken off the ship only made everything a lot worse.
She hadn’t wanted to let Montgomery go with them but she didn’t have a choice.  FILSS had accessed her system remotely and shut her down and she was stuck in the restoration lab, having nightmares about death and destruction until all the agents were checked out and given clean bills of health.  It had been the worst experience ever.
Now that she was awake again, all she wanted to do was get off the ship. Â But that was impossible. Â So the next best thing she had was standing on the observation deck, watching as they sailed into space once more.
Word of Charlie's injuries had reached Dover via the grapevine. Or, more specifically, eavesdropping. Although he wasn't fond of listening in on other people's conversations, sometimes it was so hard not to. Dover was pretty sure that 3/5 of the crew spoke about two times louder than they really had to. It was invitation to listen in on their conversations.
So when he found out that a gorilla (a gorilla?) had hurt Charlie, he was reasonably angry. Dover had been over this before: only he was allowed to hurt Charlie. So when it turned out that someone (or rather, something) had chosen to take the opportunity, he went for second best. If he couldn't beat the gorilla- which, admittedly, was a hilarious mental image, then he would beat up the person who had accompanies him. Which ended up being Sagittarius.
He had never spoken to her before, largely because she looked so young, and it was off-putting. She was almost child-like in her looks, and so speaking to her was always the kind of thing he wanted to avoid. But that was one thing that could not be avoided. Especially under such circumstances.
Dover found her staring into space (literally), and approached her at a brisk pace, standing beside her with his arms crossed.
"Want to tell me what happened with Charlie?"
Was it obtuse? Yes. Was it rude? Yes. But Dover's nature was such. He was not one to beat around the bush. Especially not under such circumstances and conditions. Sage (was she called sage?) was surely a good person, but her irresponsibility left much to be desired, at least to Dover. Part of him wanted to believe that it had been an ambush. Then he realized that, ambush or not, he likely would have still forced the responsibility for what had happened onto her shoulders.
Had he possessed a conscience, Dover might have cared. But, tragically, he lacked the empathy to concern himself with such things as responsibility and concern for other people's feelings. So he let the question hang, not looking at Sage, but not allowing himself to come across as too kind or forgiving about it. Certainly, he didn't intend to hurt her over it, but he did intend to find out what had happened.
Equinox Bomb Squad || Bismarck, Pyxis, Dover
His eyes were in slits as he studied the room, where smoke only lingered in the air and an extremely disheveled Agent stood protecting what looked to be an extremely crispy grilled cheese. He did not lower the fire extinguisher. It had to be pried from his fingers from his Agent who accused him of overreacting. There was no such thing as overreacting.Â
"I am not a female chicken that lays eggs." Turning his gaze toward his Agent, he felt his forehead scrunch with confusion before disregarding the strange comparison. He should be used to this by now, anyway.Â
The memory back at Solace resurfaced and while Pyxis did feel as if it could have been handled more discreetly, he did not regret his actions. He was programmed to protect the innocent and the contraption with bright colored paper protecting it’s hidden substance along with eyes as black as death, there was no telling what it could hold. “High strung? I beg to differ. You,” He directed his tone to the other agent. “should have been more careful not to burn your food.”
Pyxis saw it coming right before it happened, however he made no move to stop it. Once pressing the button hard enough, white substance shot out to cover the room. Including a good amount on him.
Wiping his hands down the front of his suit, globs dropped to the floor as a small grunt built up in his throat. Looking over at the agent who was laughing at his discovery, he could hardly find himself angry at him. He nearly smiled, in fact. It was almost a bit… humorous. But of course, Pyxis didn’t mutter a word as he kept these thoughts to himself.Â
Furious would have been a generous term for Dover's current emotional state. Had he not been so far away from them, he would have punched both Pyxis and Bismarck in the face, so hard they forgot their last names. Well, Bismarck at least. Pyxis didn't really have one, did he? Dover took a single, angered glance over his shoulder, checking on his grilled cheese.
If there had been a single minute instance of physical damage to his sandwich, Dover would gladly and promptly have both of their heads on a platter. However, to his great and indescribable relief, Dover found the sandwich to be completely untouched by the explosion. Rather, Dover had sustained the worst of the explosion, the extinguisher.... foam? coating a good inch or three of his arm, and a good portion of the counter behind him. Whatever God there might or might not have been smiled down upon him, and thusly he decided not to cause bodily harm to neither Bismark nor Pyxis.
Rather, Dover muttered a string of increasingly offensive profanities under his breath as he shook his arm, trying to get the thick foam off of his skin.
"What the hell was that for?" Dover asked, glaring at Bismarck.
Then Pyxis was doing the damn annoying thing where he spoke, and Dover glared at him. "It's fucking toasted. My sandwiches are nothing short of damn perfect."
There was more to say, but Dover cut himself off. How ridiculous the situation was! A twenty-something-year-old eating a grilled cheese sandwich, being attacked with a fire extinguisher by Bismarck, of all people! Bismarck, who had parkour-rolled in (with the utmost elegance for someone his age, mind you) and looked like he was investigating a crime, rather than a perfectly-baked grilled cheese sandwich! Dover nearly laughed. Nearly. He couldn't laugh. Not when grilled cheese was on the line. Not now, not ever.
Rather, he continued to frown. "What the hell did you expect to happen? It's a fucking fire extinguisher, for Christ's sake!"
Dover might have been angry that his grilled cheese had been put in danger. Just a bit. Well, not a bit. Momentously. Mammothly. Dover was beyond pissed that his grilled cheese had even been put in a situation where it might have been grazed by something he did not want touching it. So he crossed his arms, adding one final remark,
"I hope you're aware that it's going to be you two cleaning this shit up."
Roll With The Punches || Doob & Ollypop
She was starting to gain more control over the younger agent, so it seemed.Â
Her hands clawed at his shirt, her fingers grazing over his arms, trying to pin him to the ground. She was so close to victory, a victory she had earned. Maybe she wasn’t useless, if she could just win this one thing, if she could just have control over one situation. But he wasn’t fighting back. He wasn’t…Olympia’s eyebrows contorted slightly. For just a second, he seemed to rest against the floor, looking into her eyes. His eyes were a darker shade of brown, around the same as hers, she realized.Â
You’re supposed to be training…sparring. Stop acting like some sort of fucked up artist, staring at people’s eyes as you’re trying to pin them to the ground.Â
This voice of reason snapped Olympia to reality, and she quickly slid her eyes off of his, instead focusing on pinning him completely to the floor and winning the spar. It seemed too easy…even for one so green as Dover.Â
"I think I win," she said quietly, proving this fact by slightly increasing the pressure on his wrists. "Unless you have some strength hidden inside that unimpressive body that you still want to use on me." She couldn’t resist that one verbal slap.Â
The entire scuffle was more inconvenient than anything else. Olympia was so ambitious with her fighting- grabbing and pushing and being entirely too unnecessary, as Dover was basically letting her do anything, so long as it didn't cause too much physical damage.
Agent Olympia was above him, pinning him to the floor. He smirked even as she did so, her voice commanding and angry and violent. Was that how people were? Get on top, then treat those on bottom however they damn well felt, because the weaker one couldn't fight back? Dover just let out a deep sigh.
"If I'm going to be honest, my body is pretty damn impressive." He said, not shifting his position as he forced himself to retain eye contact with Agent Olympia. "But if I wish to remain honest, I should also admit that you've won."
But Dover, being Dover and not anyone else, decided for one more act of resistance. He shoved Olympia off of himself, standing up in the same swift motion.
"Consider yourself lucky." He said vaguely, wiping his hands off on his shirt and walking towards the door.
Part of Dover wanted to tell Olympia that his loss was intentional. That she had made him, for the first time in his life, made him want to lose. He wanted to tell her everything: about being young and violent and feeling all the things she felt. But things like his past were kept under lock and key, and it took more than a flash of sentiment and a unbelievable victory to access such a confession. Maybe someday, he'd take the time to tell someone else his life, make them into a living, breathing biography. In his later years, maybe, he'd do it.
But presently, he was too young and foolish to care about himself in such a magnitude. He still had time to be self-destructive and misunderstood and tragic, and so he was. There was no reason to rush into caring about the little things like life and death and physical wellness. Rather, Dover exited the training room without paying attention to another word from Agent Olympia. There was no higher ground in what had happened, and Dover would never confess that he had thrown the fight.
Maybe Dover was foolish to allow himself to be young, but frankly he couldn't be bothered to give a single semblance of a damn. As soon as he was out of the training room, he headed towards his own room, deciding he had earned himself a solid nap. If he overslept, Leo would be knocking at his door and calling for him anyways. Leo was some kind of sentient fucking alarm clock.
But that was a story for another time.

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#Egg || Doob & Chuck
Charlie continued to work dutifully at the vegetables, glancing over when Dover came slightly closer. Giving the other agent a smile, he shifted slightly, just enough to let Dover know that he was now the complete object of his attention. It was probably stupid, he knew, to be so happy, but he could hardly help it. They had had their fair share of difficulties even by now, but everything seemed worth it when they could indulge in a quiet moment.
Granted, this particular moment wasn’t as ideal as it could have been. The ship-wide sickness seemed to have gotten Dover down, even if it didn’t look like he was actually sick. Dover said something and losing people, and how it would be even more devastating. Charlie bit his lip for a moment, wondering if he should say what he thought would go over better, or what he really felt.
"W-well, it’s not good, but I’m sure H-helena’s doing her best. She’s r-really smart - she’ll know when t-to, uh, call for help." Charlie paused to stir the contents of the pot. "If it even, ah, g-gets that bad. Maybe it’s j-just a little thing?"
He knew even as he said the words, though, that they were a lie. Charlie shrugged apologetically at Dover, looking back down at the counter after a quick second.
"B-besides, uh…I’m s-sure once everything g-gets back on track, we’ll be right back to normal, r-right?"
Of course it would be, that’s exactly what it means.
Charlie wanted to sigh, to beat himself over the head for saying the most ridiculous shit. How could Dover not think Charlie was an idiot sometimes? He felt his cheeks warm out of embarassment, and he was silent for a minute before he piped up again.
"H-hey! You know what, um, g-goes great with soup?" Charlie watched Dover for a reaction, searching for any hint of approval or disapproval. A smile played at his lips and his tone was cheerful, but also strained, a result of his efforts to grasp at any happiness he could find. "I bet there’s, uh, st-stuff for grilled cheese. B-besides." The grin grew a little mischievous. "I still, ah, I still owe you, y-you know."
There was no refusing Charlie's offer for grilled cheese. The food just about ran through Dover's veins. Honestly, Dover had forgotten about Charlie's promise about grilled cheese (the lack of attention he paid to Charlie never bothered him; Charlie didn't seem to complain, so he didn't bother changing), but was not going to pass it up either way. So he stood up after a few more gratuitous moments of watching Charlie cook.
"Normal?" Dover shook his head and picked up a loaf of bread, turning it over in his hands and shaking his head minutely in disapproval. Wheat, not white. It made all the difference, but he wasn't about to complain. "We haven't seen a normal day since training." It certainly wasn't a complaint; normal was an alien concept to Dover. He certainly wasn't going to complain, but Charlie was really the closest he had to normal. Most of the first recruits to Freelancer were dead. Or sick. The thought paralyzed him momentarily, before he tucked the loaf under his arm and searched for cheese (American cheese, always American cheese). "But-" he hesitated "But we've go something next to normal, I guess. And that's okay."
It was a flat-faced lie, but it was all Dover could manage at the time. It was hard not to be positive, at least with Charlie. Had Dover been a bit more of a spiritual person, he would have mused to himself how Charlie was arguably one of the most positive energies on the ship. Maybe that was why Dover enjoyed being around him, because Dover was an endless supply of negativity and because opposites attract. Was that how it really worked? Were people like magnets in such a way as that? Dover held a stick of butter as he silently mused to himself. Damn, only in such a time and place would Dover be musing to a stick of butter as Hamlet did to Horatio. Why was he thinking about Shakespeare? The bag was long gone!
He set the ingredients on the counter and spared Charlie a sidelong glance, before looking down at the grilled cheese ingredients with what must have been complete and utter dejection. Grilled cheese was routine. Training was routine. Meals were routine. Sleeping was routine. Fighting was routine. Maybe that was why he refused to acknowledge Charlie. Maybe that was why he refused to allow Charlie to become another routine. Dover couldn't allow Charlie to fade into the woodwork of his life. A metaphysical wallflower. It wasn't, Dover realized, that he didn't like Charlie. It was just the opposite. He saw Charlie as such an unprecedented thing, that he couldn't afford to treasure or appreciate or look at it for too long, for fear of it losing its value.
Some day, Dover thought to himself, it would be nice to understand half the damn things he understood. Until then, he decided, he would continue the routine: wake up, fight, eat, sleep. Not necessarily in that order, but always with room for positive energies that he didn't even believe in.