Chasing Stars

isha-feinberg​:

[He can play harder to get than he thinks, when it comes to this particular topic. While Isha would never like to describe herself as desperate, she is certainly… eager to do something. It’s becoming increasingly apparent that she can’t achieve much on her own, not in a community as enclosed as a Colony. And Ada, dear as she is to Isha, is not a master of subtlety. The two of them talk a lot and laugh about the sort of chaos they could instigate, but when it comes to making a difference in a meaningful way, she’s not sure Ada could keep a secret.

Then again, maybe her nature is too distrusting. She wouldn’t think Corbin knew how to keep his mouth shut either, but he explains that he’d need to check with other involved people before clueing Isha in on any real details. Grudgingly, she respects that. Corbin has a loud mouth but he knows when to shut it. Well, sometimes. She also thinks he should shut it when it comes to bragging about what a desirable lothario he is. There’s little more distasteful to Isha than people that feel the need to shoehorn sex into every conversation.

While nobody could accuse the man of subtlety, he does manage to give very few details away as he expands on what he’s planning. Isha isn’t sure what he means by kicking the NWRF where it hurts, because she isn’t sure where in particular might hurt them. Whatever people think of her, she’s not an evil genius or a master manipulator. She got away with so many murders through a combination of luck, and perverts being very simple. That, and being mindful of tide times and currents when she disposed of the bodies.

But when it comes to standing up to a well organized, global group like the NWRF? That’s a little harder, and Isha is slowly accepting that she’ll need help. She does understand a little better what he’s saying about Telepaths. In an uprising, even a lowkey one, being able to communicate privately without risk of being overheard or intercepted is absolutely invaluable.] 

Okay. [She nods. He’s smirking; Isha’s expression remains neutral. She’s fundamentally opposed to smiling at men that smile at her. She works very hard to ensure people don’t accidentally think she likes them, although it occurs to her she shouldn’t try that hard with Corbin. She’s not the only telepath in the Colony by any stretch, so in that way she needs him more than he needs her. That thought makes her feel a little queasy, and she takes a sharp inhale of the fresh, sea salt air.] That was very vague. Thank you.

[The ‘thank you’ isn’t as sarcastic as it might sound. She really is pleased to know that Corbin is capable of being vague if necessary.] If these other parties object to my involvement, will you give me the chance to explain myself to them? I can tell it to you, and you pass on the message, if they will remain anonymous. I know that I am not an easy person to trust so I cannot expect people to be immediately comfortable with my involvement, but I would like to explain why I am so eager, if they are doubtful.

[It would sting her pride, but she’d do it, ask for a second hearing if necessary.]

[Oh....oh. So she’s like... committed to this, then. Well and truly committed, it would seem, because not only does she listen, and thank Corbin (even with a arguably sarcastic little quip snuck in there somewhere), but she also actually takes the time to ask Corbin for a chance to make her case, essentially. Huh. 

It’s not what he would have expected, and to be honest, it does a lot more for her than she probably realizes. She wants to be able to explain herself in the event that Mouse and Pax don’t agree to bringing a convict into the mix, but at this point Corbin is starting to feel like he’d be prepared to make a case for her. Not that she’d appreciate that, knowing her track record with having men speak for her or over her, (even in classes nobody cares about, for fuck’s sake...) but he’s never seen her this apparently committed to anything that involves speaking with him, and if she’s willing to put up with him this long, and be not only civil, but marginally humble...Corbin takes it as a sign she’s more invested than she’d like to admit.

In any case, it’s not like he’s about to tell her he’ll do it for her, or anything of that notion—any argument would be better coming from her, anyway. But if it comes to it, he might back her up himself, if it comes down to arguing. Maybe. He’s wary, but he’d like to believe this opportunity that seems to have fallen into his lap is one of... good karma, or something. Something he can trust. Which is... hard to come by, these days, but he’d like to believe it.]

cambieandrews​:

[There’s something sweetly amusing in the way Corbin discards the pen so casually and then thinks better of it, pocketing it. She’s not sure why it makes her smile; maybe because it shows these two vivid sides of him. There’s the spontaneous, lackadaisical side, and then there’s the side that’s matured.

Cambie does suppress that smile momentarily, but it blooms anyway when he talks about how he likes to hear her swear. She’s not as squeaky clean as most of her Delmas think, but she is much better at keeping a separation between her private and her professional life. Most only see her more professional side, although the private and more personal part of her has been making more frequent appearances lately. ] 

I always swore, I just tried to keep it quiet for professionalism’s sake. But, you know, much bloody good that’s done me. [The NWRF don’t care about her professionalism; they care about how much they can use her against the Infected. That amount is small, but they’re also perfectly aware that getting rid of her would cause far more upset than it’s worth. Maybe she’s gotten cocky, too confident in the idea that most of the population wouldn’t stand for her demotion.] 

I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I don’t think I’ll be going grey any time soon. If I do, believe me when I say it won’t be because of any Delmas. You mostly keep your drama interpersonal, which is far easier to deal with than politics. I didn’t sign up for the politics, I just thought I was going to be a glorified agony aunt.

[Cambie rolls her eyes like she’s just joking, and she sort of is. Of course she’s happy to go above and beyond to protect her Delmas. But the first few years were a lot easier, back when it was just navigating post-apocalyptic life. If she’d had a way of foreseeing the NWRF, she’s honestly not sure if she’d have agreed to being head of house.]

[It’s both good and sad, that Cambie is realizing her precious ways aren’t worth a penny to the NWRF. It’s good, because knowing this is the only thing that can protect her from them. They’d take advantage of naivety in a second. But it’s sad, too, because much as Corbin resists being soft around her, or letting her know (or admitting to himself) how much he values and appreciates her, it’s not pleasant, seeing her disheartened, or disillusioned by the Reformists. Sure, they’re all disillusioned, and maybe they should be as such. But it’s no fun telling a Care Bear there’s no Santa Clause. 

Or... whatever. 

 He laughs at the agony aunt comment.] Blimey, some people wouldn’t even sign up for that. [He snorts.] I know I wouldn’t. But yeah.. reckon it was more like that, back before all these pompous fuckers showed up. 

diederick-dmornay​:

[[ ‘Musta been a nice little reunion.’ Ricky says nothing on that, he simply nods. Looks out a little into the distance. Like he’s contemplating some past, joyful moment he’d rather keep private. That’s half correct.

When Corbin says he also transferred not exactly by ‘choice’, Ricky can’t help but laugh. ]] It’s fun when you’re given a ‘choice’ to leave, non? [[ It is not. Ricky’s bitter tone says as much. ]] Is fucking irritating, every time that happens I wish they’d just say it.

[[ As they walk, reaching an actual exit to the Colony walls, Ricky checks his PDD, a message he had the idiot guard from earlier send him. It contains a rough description of the area where Tag’s VIPE tracker last pinged. The man should be keeping him updated, unfortunately, Ricky puts little stock in the man’s ability to do any goddamn work. ]] We only have a vague area.

He hasn’t gotten very far, but he is still too close to the shoreline for comfort. [[ Swimming lessons aren’t exactly a common thing nowadays, how many people who are even younger than Ricky have completely missed out on that skill? Ricky pauses. ]] Do you know if he can swim? [[ Drowning would be an awful way to go. ]]

[There’s a story somewhere behind that bitter laugh, behind the way he almost spits out the word ‘choice’—by the sounds of it, Corbin would hazard a guess that Ricky’s life hadn’t exactly been filled with choices. But Corbin’s not going to push him on it, because Ricky doesn’t sound like he wants to be pushed. It sounds, in fact, like a bit of a sore subject, and Corbin knows when to leave well enough alone. 

The shoreline? Fuck—is Tag really running, then? A part of Corbin wondered if he’d just... gotten lost, or maybe... gone off to play a hero, looking for some sort of adventure he’d thought would help make the dull Colony life a little more exciting, or even fulfilling, if he had some sort of mission dreamed up in his head. Corbin had hoped, anyway. Because if he really was running... it did make the chances of finding him a little bit slimmer. Not impossible, obviously—he’s just a kid, after all. But if he’s really looking not to be found...? It just complicates things.

Still, what’s his plan? Swim to the fucking mainland? No one’s that stupid—and the way Pax talks about him, Corbin’s pretty sure Tag is fairly intelligent. Pax wouldn’t keep him around, if he weren’t; he’s not he most patient of individuals... 

Corbin frowns a little, absently chewing at his thumbnail as they cross over the threshold of the Colony’s towering walls.] Swim? [He scoffs lightly.] Shite—well, I reckon if he can’t, he won’t be in a hurry to jump in, yeah? Unless this is a suicide mission, but there are easier ways to go, so... [a shrug. It’s not quite an answer to the question, but it’s the closest thing he has—because fuck if he knows if the kid can swim or not. He’d hope so. Can’t most people? But these days, who knows, really.] 

kip-whitmer​:

[Oh, whoops. Kip forgets sometimes that Corbin can be a lot more sensitive than he lets on. It doesn’t show in his face, but Kip’s comment about substances sends a twinge through him that they both feel. He really does consider apologizing, but he can say with certainty that Corbin wouldn’t want that. It’s probably the worst thing about being around Empaths: you don’t get to hide how you feel. The only small mercy Kip can offer is pretending he didn’t notice, so instead he just flutters his eyelashes at Corbin’s agreement to beat up a Reformist for him.] 

My hero. [He knows (hopes) Corbin won’t actually do it, but it’s fun to think about. 

Kip balks at the question of dinner, horrified by the notion that he might be stuck here that long.] Absolutely fucking not. I’ll be at dinner, and that is a threat. If they don’t discharge me in the next like, hour, I’m gonna riot. In fact, if you don’t see me at dinner, then skip beating up Reformists on my behalf and come help me stage a breakout.

[He’s already bored shitless here. If he’s stuck until dinnertime he might well die from the lack of stimulation. Having a visitor brightens things up but he’d really rather be literally anywhere but here.]

[Realistically, maybe beating someone up for Kip over politics or a disagreement in the labs is a bit of a stretch—Corbin really isn’t that dramatic, nor is he looking to start any drama; it’s never been his M.O, and he’s never had a taste for it. 

But were it to come down to more serious terms—protecting his friends when their lives or freedom are at risk? Yeah, he’d probably get caught sticking his neck out. Which is a fact he’s had to come to terms with, lately. Ever since that disagreement with Mouse. As it turns out, at some point between now and the End of the World—maybe between now and meeting Ethan, actually—Corbin had turned into the kind of person who wouldn’t immediately put himself first, in every single scenario. In some cases, he’d risk his reputation or his well being, for that of his friends, and it surprises him to think of how many he has of those, now. Oddly, there are far more people who mean a lot to him now, in the middle of this post-apocalyptic world, than there were before the Falling. Statistically, you’d think that wouldn’t be possible.

Then again, what does Corbin know about statistics. Or maths.

He chuckles at Kip’s theatrics about missing dinner, and nods—not sagely, but pretending to be.] Copy that, mate. I’ll see you at dinner then. And if I don’t, I’ll come looking for ya—fists ablazin’. [He smirks] Scout’s honour. 

bodelevy-lindqvist​:

I’m not sure if I should be pleased or worried that you and I agree on something as complicated as the politics of this colony. [That’s putting it mildly. Bode for the most part doesn’t follow along with Corbin’s train of thought about the cartoon. In truth he didn’t give a fuck about the drawing or Britain’s opinion on sexually explicit imagery.] Right.

[There’s a slight pause before Bode looks up at Corbin.] What did mean by Kaiser doing more than just talking? Did the cult he created here actually make some leeway against the NWRF? [And if they had, why hadn’t Bode heard of it before now? How much information did he miss out on by playing it cool? Corbin gazed back at him, eyes glazed over with disinterest. He smiles at Corbin, gentle enough to come across as disarming.] I bet you’re just the man to talk to about this kind of thing. I’m surprised you’re avoiding the gossip.

You’re not even a little curious about the strange circumstances of Kaiser’s death?

[Corbin’s not sure how much of a ‘cult’ Kaiser had here, but out in the wastes... that’s a different story. At least, that’s what the whole decoy raid fiasco suggested.

He glances up at Bode, then, tiring of the doodle, and running out of things to add to it, he tosses the pen to the table and shifts into a more comfortable position.] Not so much here, but he had impact out in the wastes, I reckon. Word is he was somethin’ of a radical figurehead, before the crusaders got to him. And since then... well, how much have they told ya about the kids that went missin’ back in September last year? Anythin’?

[A literal kidnapping. And though of course they didn’t know that Kaiser was involved in anyway, but the point is, he could have been. He wasn’t a resident back then, and either way, that Mink kid had confirmed it was a Radical agenda. And Kaiser was captured.. what? A few months later? Seems like quite the coincidence...

books-xnd-cleverness​:

[The “miss” throws Jo off, as does the sharp turn into solemnity. She feels simultaneously as though she’s being asked by one of her students to explain some obscure metaphor and as though that same student is asking her to hand over a live bomb. There are a dozen ways this could blow up in her face, all doing varying amounts of damage. The kind she’s most worried about is collateral– no one else needs to get hurt from her mistakes. But she’s worried for herself, too. If she’s not around to protect her students, there’s no telling what might happen to them.]

[The kicker, for Jo, the cinch in the deal, is Corbin’s own admission of attachment. She knows how that feels, to encounter a ghost thought long-dead; or at least she imagines she would know how it felt. With any luck, she will one day. Jo examines him for any sign of falsehood, of goading her into a trap of admission, but there is nothing but sincerity. She feels it in her bones, as deeply as she feels that loss and attachment. If he is lying, he is doing it well. If he really is telling the truth, he knows it’s exactly what she needs to hear. A bit manipulative, but she doesn’t have the room to care.]

[She takes in a deep breath, wishing badly for the sharp knife of smoke in her lungs. Her fingers curl for lack of something between them.] You’re right. I…how I feel hasn’t changed. Not really. And I am scared. Not for me, but for them. I’m all most of them have left. I can’t leave them. I won’t.

[It’s odd, how quickly she’s become protective of her students. She never imagined herself to be good with children, but here she is. And it feels right, above all else. She can’t imagine doing anything else, not now. Of course, that makes her current problem all the more nerve-wracking.] Some of it, [she hedges, glancing nervously around again. No one seems to be paying them any attention, but as she knows, even walls have ears these days. Even without an obvious observer she lowers her voice.] I kept some of it. Hid it. The blueprints, some schedules. But after I…after. They raided my room. Whatever they found, they destroyed. Didn’t want me trying again. [She laughs, dry and humorless. As if she’d ever have the courage to try again.] I remember it, though. I had months to planning, and I memorized it all. I could write it all out again if I had to. I could. And more. I…[She laughs again, once; a sharp thing.] I guess I really never stopped planning.

✑

[Her energy shifts. Whatever she needed to hear, Corbin had said it. He can tell by the look in her eye, the releasing of tension in her shoulders. And it’s not that he’d been manipulating her, per se—by his perspective, that would suggest he’s lying about something, but he’s not. He’d been nothing but truthful, and his admission about Ethan, about being smarter, safer, than he used to be—about having something to lose—that’s all just straight up honesty. It just so happens that he’s learned over the years that vulnerability is what people need to trust you. And he does need her to trust him. 

When she says they raided her room, his heart drops for a moment. Worried that all this might have been for nothing. But she seems sure she can recreate it, and the notion that she ‘never stopped planning’ is music to his ears. More than a good sign, it’s a sign that maybe she’ll be a better ally than he’d even hoped.

She lowers her voice, and he listens intently. When he speaks, he follows suit. Leans in a little as they aimlessly wander the big empty grounds.] Listen, it won’t ever have to get back to ya. It’s almost a good thing they raided yer room—because they know they confiscated everythin’ already. If ya write what ya remember, what ya know, down, and pass it off to me, they won’t ever have seen ya with it. It won’t be attached to you. 

cambieandrews​:

[Corbin is decidedly not the right person to go to for comfort, but that’s not really important to Cambie. The way she takes comfort is generally in the form of people tolerating her fussing and fretting, and Corbin certainly knows how to do that by now. She takes more comfort just in the simple act of being around her Delmas than most of them realise.

Especially after Mitch lost his position and she realised how tenuous her own footing was, she really treasured them.] 

He probably would be loving this. If anyone could’ve willed themselves to drop dead out of sheer spite it’d be him for sure. Bad as it looks for the NWRF, I suspect they’re a little bit relieved. He was a real thorn in everyone’s arse. 

[Far be it from Cambie to speak ill of the dead – but she’s pretty sure Kaiser would consider ‘thorn in the arse’ a compliment anyway.] Can’t tell you how glad I am he was a Torren. I could just watch from a distance as he terrorised people, and it wasn’t my problem.

[Corbin gives a chuckle, admittedly amused, as he finishes with his ‘artwork’ and tosses the pen onto the table beside him, letting it roll a couple of inches, watching it idly. It’d probably be better to keep it, actually—everything is of value these days. Maybe it would have been of much more value out in the Wastes, but it’s too easy to get to comfortable under a Colony roof. Kaiser’s untimely death is a perfect example of that. 

He picks it up again and tucks it into his jacket.

Then he leans back onto the heels of his hands, and looks up at Andrews with a crooked grin.]  I ever tell ya how much I love hearin’ you cuss? It’s like, weirdly vindicatin’, seein’ that side of you. Like somehow us Delma Delinquents have finally rubbed off on ya the way you’ve rubbed off on us. 

isha-feinberg​:

[He talks his plan down, a little – and that reassures Isha. Corbin talks everything up. He has a massively inflated ego and is always quick to remind people of just how appealing he thinks he is, and how much quicker and cleverer and handsomer and any other number of superlatives. That proves that he is brash and thoughtless, just wanting to be better than those around him.

So his willingness to apply a little modesty to whatever he is planning tells Isha that it matters. It’s not about Corbin. He looks at it not through a selfish lens of self-satisfaction, but a lens of realism and potential.] 

Good. The riot achieved nothing of any lasting substance. [She is quiet for a moment, gaze drifting to the horizon – the far off walls of the Colony, and the grey skies. This feels uncomfortably like asking for help, which Isha resents intently. It is unpleasant feeling like she’s not in charge, but for now Corbin has something she wants. That means she has to choose not to be offended that he thinks she might blow their cover or throw someone under the bus. It is part and parcel of being so devotedly independent: people don’t know you, and so often you hear opinions about yourself that could never apply.] 

I would never throw one of us under the bus. When I believe in something, I fight for that thing. I went to prison because I valued my beliefs more than my liberty. The NWRF could lock me up for the rest of my life before they could compel me to betray one of the evolved.

[Dramatic? Maybe, a little. Isha has never done things by half. With her, it is everything or nothing. Before, the thing that made her the most vulnerable was her gender. Now, she is more actively mistreated because of her ability, and that makes it a priority. She distrusts men, but she distrusts the NWRF more.]

[She looks away and Corbin looks at her. Not that he’d admit it to her, but it’s actually intimidating looking her in the eye. Observing her face when she’s observing you. Whether it’s due to the sharpness in her gaze and that icy veneer that makes her so hard to read, or because looking at her always feels like a risk of getting called out for something, like she’s someone who doesn’t want to be looked at and is scrutinizing you the entire time, waiting for you to do something on which she can castigate you. 

But either way, it feels like looking at her to try to figure her out, is a thing he has to do without her noticing, while she’s otherwise distracted and can’t fix him with a glare that’s somehow bored and threatening at the same time.

Her reassurance that she’d be loyal—even to him, someone she doesn’t particularly like, as far as he’s aware—no, as far as she’s made pretty clear, in fact—is maybe a bit over the top, but it’s also believable. And it’s not just because she says it with conviction, but because of the little he knows about Isha, one thing he can believe is that she would do just about anything to stand for what she believed in. After all, isn’t that the whole reason she’d been in prison before D-Day at all? Because she’d been standing up for what she believed in, no matter the consequences? 

Not that her allegedly being a mass murderer makes her particularly trust worthy, but she’s not really done anything like that since being at Colony 22, and it’s not like it was before, where ‘pillars of the community’ could be fooling everybody and leading doubles lives and secretly taking out people who would go unmissed by morning, because Col 22 is a small place and there are only so many people left. People would notice if even one person went missing. Besides, a part of him doesn’t believe her supposed backstory. It could be a bunch of over exaggerated rumours. And it’s not like he’s ever asked her himself. He’s not convinced she’d tell him the truth, anyway. 

After a moment of considering her words, looking her in the eye this time, he nods.] Right. Well... I gotta talk to a couple people first—just ‘cause I’d be a hypocrite if I brought someone in on this without talkin’ to, er, other founding parties, basically. But... [he glances at her again. He knows he shouldn’t be jumping the gun on this, but he’s also sort of worried about her losing interest, somehow. How ‘hard to get’ can he play, when they’re desperate for a telepath that’d be interested in helping with this anyway, and they sort of slipped back to square one when Koda left? Sure Corbin could try to convince JR... but much as he likes the bloke, he’s not sure JR is the person to get involved in something like this. It seems like a stretch, especially given they don’t know each other too well yet.

So he caves, and decides to reward her straight forward approach by giving her a bit more to chew on before calling it a day. ] But basically some people might be lookin’ to, er, kick the NWRF where it’ll hurt, without ever havin’ to get their boots dirty, know what I mean? [ ‘Some people,’ as in these elusive other somebodies that aren’t him, because even if Isha knows otherwise, he can go down saying he never admitted to anything. At least for now.] Like, we’re talkin’... literally without ever havin’ to kick, ‘cause people like us, we got... somethin’ up our sleeves that lets us... wreak havoc withour ever havin’ to touch nuthin’, if ya see what I’m sayin’. And these people are thinkin’... why not use these skills to their advantage, yeah? So.. that’s part of why a Telepath would come in handy. Excellent communicators those rascals, ain’t they? 

kip-whitmer​:

[Kip knows full well that Corbin is stronger than he looks. Not even just because of the training here, but because of the pole dancing. He’d given it a shot himself once or twice, and really struggled to even lift himself onto the pole – alright, it’d just been a basketball net, but a pole is a pole and Kip definitely didn’t have the abdominal strength for it.

Whether or not Corbin’s strength translates to fighting is another matter, but sure, he’s definitely stronger than Kip. Can’t argue with that.] 

I think ‘lean’ and ‘thunder thighs’ are pretty antithetical but either way I would love to see you go full Black Widow and choke someone with them. [Not even being flippant, that would be decidedly hot. He’s pretty sure though, that when it comes to violence Corbin is more reactionary than actionary. In the heat of the moment Kip’s got no doubt that he’d do whatever he needed to do to survive, but deliberately seeking someone out in a vendetta feels less on brand for him. Corbin’s scrappy but he’s a better guy than most people give him credit for. Not that Kip would ever say that to his face, naturally.] 

Hey, don’t ‘princess’ me – Clay’s right there if you’re looking for someone prissy to roast. And hey, if you get poisoned then you get poisoned. Pretty sure it’d take more than a little toxic substance to kill you at this point, and it’d be for the greater good. You’re not just beating up the guy that hurt me, you’re beating up a Reformist. Wouldn’t that just make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside? Worth the poisoning, I’d say.

[ ‘Antithetical’ is not a word Corbin knows, but he can guess based on context. But it doesn’t matter either way, because he’s not about to get into a linguistics argument with Kip—Corbin is the boy who dropped out of school and ran away into sex work, and Kip is the boy who skipped like a bajillion grades and ran away to university at like 16 or something ridiculous. Corbin also just doesn’t really care about being right about stuff. That’s not really his ‘schtick’.

The dig at Boyd earns a smirk from Corbin, and Kip’s predictable and petty arguing has him rolling his eyes fondly, though the bit about being taken out by toxic substances stings a little—of course, he hides it well, schools his expression—but he’s very aware of how easily toxic substances can kill you. Still... none of that is really relevant when Kip is just making a stupid joke about actual poison. Corbin looks down, grin still crooked and calm, but he rubs at his nose and shifts gear.] Alright, alright, you win. I’ll beat up the nerdy Reformist for you—but don’t say I never done nothin’ for you, yeah? 

bodelevy-lindqvist​:

[He bites back a laugh, however short it might have been. It’s probably best to not bring attention unto themselves with Corbin evading his chore rotation and Bode defying ration rules.] I’m sure you’re a handful when you want to be. [Bode leans back onto the table, hands clasped in his lap.] I wouldn’t down play the effect you could have, although I’m not sure talking shit in public would be enough. If anything it would be a detriment, wouldn’t it? [He smiles like a knife. It’s not a threat, after all, Bode could care less about Quinn and his reformist buddies.]

It certainly didn’t do much good for Kaiser. [It’s not an easy task, Bode thinks, to dismantle a fascist government but it takes very little to irritate them. They run on fear and if they don’t have yours, they zero in on you. They can bare their teeth at him all they like, he wasn’t buying it. Not yet anyway.] But to each their own. [He glances towards the kitchens, as if at any point someone important would walk through the swinging doors.]

As for the drawing. [He tilts his head from where he sits.] I can’t say I’ve ever heard of Calvin…and Hobbs was it? [He shrugs a shoulder, bored, already disinterested by the conversation topic.] American I’m assuming? [Calvin tasted American, in the worst way like processed cheese.] I find it difficult to believe they would ever draw a man fucking a tiger. They’re a bit prudish, aren’t they?

Oh, I’m a big handful, don’t you worry, [Corbin drawls, the innuendo convenient but effortless.

[He’s not entirely sure what Bode means about the talking shit comment—he sort of gets lost somewhere around the mention of it being a detriment, so he doesn’t totally follow for the Kaiser comment either. But he doesn’t want to ask—something tells him Bode would take altogether too much pleasure out of anything that, in his eyes, confirmed him as the smartest man in the room. And Corbin’s used to being a bit limited when it comes to his vocabulary, and his way of speaking. Fortunately for him, he’s smart in all the reasons that count. The ones that actually matter in life.]

What—you reckon the NWRF had something to do with Bahr’s death, that it? ‘Cause far as I know, that bloke did a lot more than talk, in his day. Didn’t change his fate—but it mighta changed some people’s. Not that I’m mad fer the notion of us Infected bein’ a “superior race”. [He throws up some air quotes, and rolls his eyes gently.] Like, sure, I like my infection, but all that ‘meant to lead the new evolution of man to a new world’ mumbo jumbo? [He snorts.] Yeah, whatever. Sounds like a bunch of inflated egos, to me. And this is comin’ from someone with a massively inflated ego. [A quick, tomcat smirk.]

diederick-dmornay​:

[[ Hard to tell because he doesn’t talk? Ricky hasn’t spoken to half the people here and he knows what they think of him. ]] He’s mute not fucking paralysed. [[ A little crass, perhaps, but even Ricky thinks you could figure out how a relatively silent person feels about you. Body language, middle fingers, etc. etc. ]] Buh. You know him, that is enough.

[[ It’s very clear why they don’t pick guys like Corbin for the crusades. Skinny bastard covered in doodles seems like the sort who would leg it, or help any stragglers get away from them. ]] It’s not for everyone. [[ Ricky, a little embarrassingly in his eyes, did have some horse riding lessons. He went to a disgustingly posh boarding school.

Corbin, clearly wanting to make conversation as they head out of the Colony makes him mildly regret bringing him. Maybe he could be entertaining, at least? The fact Corbin calls this place a shit hole (despite Ricky’s wholehearted agreement) makes him want to be contrary for the sake of it. ]] I didn’t ‘end up’ here. I transferred. [[ A beat. He will undoubtedly ask why, so Ricky jumps the gun: ]] My father is here.

Why are you here in this apparent ‘shit hole’, then?

[The comment has Corbin narrowing his eyes a little, sliding Ricky a slightly speculative gaze, and rolling his eyes subtly. It seems like a weird thing to say, and Corbin can’t quite tell what’s got this bloke’s knickers in such a bloody knot. Maybe he’s secretly got more on the line with this whole thing than he’s let on? Maybe his job is on the line. Or maybe he’s scared—all bark and no bite, too much of a pansy to want to head out beyond the comfort and control of the Colony’s great, towering walls.

Pfft. Typical.

He offers before Corbin has to ask, sounding almost defensive. His father. Huh. Must be nice. Not that Corbin would know.] 

Oh yeah? Well, good on ya, I reckon, then, yeah? Musta been a nice little reunion. [He doesn’t even know for sure if they had a long separation or not. Maybe it’s nothing like Corbin’s situation with Ethan—maybe Ricky knew his father was here, maybe Ricky’s father was also a transfer, and Ricky just followed. Still, he doesn’t know what else to say, otherwise.] 

books-xnd-cleverness​:

[Jo rolls her eyes again at ‘sweetheart’. Nicknames always throw her off; she’s never been able to tell if they were used genuinely or not. In this case it’s clear it’s not genuine, just used to get under her skin. And it’s working. But she won’t give him the satisfaction of showing it, not again. Especially when there are more important things to worry about, like the offer he so casually tosses into the conversation.]

[His proposal immediately puts Jo on high alert. This screams trap, or at least a good way to get herself in trouble. Buying contraband goods on the black market is bad enough already, but if he’s after the kind of information she thinks he’s after, that’s a whole new level of danger. One that could get her demoted, removed from her post or worse. And yet, at the same time, the offer is tempting. She knows she’s kept her head buried in the sand for too long. Things will happen, plans will be made with or without her, but if she can help it should be her duty to do so. Should being the operative word. She’s just so afraid of what might happen if she makes the wrong choice. After all, history rhymes but doesn’t always repeat. The ‘good guys’, if there ever are such a thing, don’t always win.]

[She bites her lip, thinking over her next words carefully. This isn’t a huge turning point, in the grand scheme of things, but it is a choice she feels sorely unprepared to make.] I know what kind of information you’re after. And if you’d asked me a few months ago I would’ve said no. Now…times are changing. I don’t know. If you can guarantee that I won’t be put in the line of fire– that my kids won’t be put there– then maybe we can talk. But they come first. Always.

✑

[His brows lift, ever so slightly, into his messy dark fringe—he flicks some of it from his face, actually... ‘Cor, he could use a fuckin’ trim again—she knows what kind of information he’s looking for. He’d not been expecting that—but how specific is she talking? Maybe she knows that whatever he’s looking for is something the NWRF wouldn’t like, and maybe that’s enough to set her on edge. He doesn’t really blame her. 

She mentions her kids—it takes him a half-second to realize she means the one she teaches. Ah—so honourable, so nurturing. For a moment she reminds him a little bit of Cambie. They probably get along. 

He nods, exaggerated, eyes widening in earnest as he makes a cross symbol over his heart.] Cross my little black heart, Miss. I swear it. [A pause, and he readjusts himself. Enough of the pretences; he’s going to try to level with her. She’s been vulnerable; she probably needs the same from him before she’ll allow this to go any further. So he gets to it, and to the point. He lowers his voice.] Listen—I reckon I get how nervous ya are, what with what happened last time—[he doesn’t know the details, but he knows enough.] But m’ thinkin’—and feel free to correct me if I’m wrong—m’thinkin’ ya don’t feel too much different than ya did back then, except fer the fact that they scared ya into stayin’ in line. You got stuff to lose now. I get it—believe it or not, the same thing happened to me. I ain’t no rule-followin’ angel, no doubt, but I been kicked outta a Colony before, and when it was just me I was worried ‘bout, I didn’t give a fuck. But I got... people here now. I got a mate who I thought was fuckin’ dead, turned up at Colony 22 like a fuckin’ ghost, and I ain’t in no hurry to be kicked to the curb, ‘cause you know this time it’d be back to the wastes fer me. The NWRF ain’t to big on third chances. And I made a promise to somebody. [Ethan. He swore he’d never abandon him, and he’d meant it.] So I do things different now. More careful. 

cambieandrews​:

[She’s more glad than she’d care to admit that she doesn’t roll his eyes and tell her to fuck off. That’s always a bit of a fear with Corbin: that he’ll bristle viciously at her attempts to care for him, and she’s used to shrugging them off by now. But today she’s feeling more fragile than usual, and she has a suspicion that if he was short with her, it might make her cry.

Sometimes she wonders if her Delmas realise that she needs them far, far more than they’ll ever need her.

Fortunately, he smiles. Not in a long-suffering way, either, just in an amused way; and Cambie smiles back.] 

I’ll cheerlead anything that puts a smile on people’s faces right now, honestly. I know this Kaiser situation is a lot, and I just don’t… [Cambie sighs, rubbing her face with the back of her hand.] It’s bloody relentless, isn’t it? I miss the days when people’s biggest problems were not enjoying training, or me bullying them into therapy. But now someone dies and you can barely even mourn because it’s conspiracy theory central.

[Not that Cambie would really mourn Kaiser to any profound degree. His death was a tragedy, certainly, at his age – but she didn’t know him well enough to feel the loss personally. She’s far more concerned with making sure everyone else is okay. Corbin seems relatively okay – he’s smiling, at least – but it’s always hard to be sure.]

[Corbin snorts. Well, yeah, he can agree with her there, at least; it’s bloody exhausting. And no offence to the big Fuck-Me-Daddy German, may he rest in peace or whatever, but Corbin’s pretty sure his surprise death-by-brain-short-circuit wouldn’t be nearly as interesting or depressing if it weren’t for the presence of the NWRF. Now everything is a... scheme, a conspiracy. Everyone is a God damn martyr. 

She’s stressed—her sighing and restless hand-rubbing tells him so, and he’s not sure if she’s actively seeking comfort from him, or if he just happened to get in the... line of fire, but as much as he’s become so reluctantly fond of her over the past couple years, he’s not convinced he’s the right person for the job. A big part of him is confident he’s insult her somehow, or say something offensive.

Then again, she’d hardly be surprised, he suspects.] 

isha-feinberg​:

[She manages to withhold an eye roll, but does spare him her most withering glance when he asks if she’d been complimenting him. His attitude really makes her want to take it back, but she’s trying very hard here. Her desire to do something about the NWRF outweighs her distaste for Corbin, and she has to remember he’s English. Something she learned in England is that the culture for young men (’lad culture’, a phrase which makes her sick) is just appalling. The drinking, the violence, the casual misogyny… from the stories she heard the guards tell at Belvedere, she’s certainly glad she never set foot in an English pub.

And then he says there is something, with a telepath’s name on it no less. So Isha was right, which is rather vindicating. People like Corbin are always scheming. She can’t be too annoyed that he wants to know why he should trust her, since she is after all the one encroaching on his plan. On an instinctive level Isha thinks it’s bizarre that she should have to justify herself to him, when she is a paragon of self control and he is an agent of absolute chaos, but she understands. Isha is aware her instincts are too prickly.

For the most part she doesn’t try to suppress that, since it isn’t like she’s simply dying to make friends. But when necessary, she can smooth away the prickliness.] 

Do you remember the small riot when the NWRF took over? I went to correctional for that, for weeks. I have been angry for six months now, waiting for the right time. I want to do something, because I cannot stand seeing those people in charge, but I cannot be a revolution alone. I do not like you, but that is a personality issue. I hate the Reformists, and that is an idealogical issue, and that is far bigger than either you or me. I spent my life fighting for what I believe in. If you cannot see my passion it’s because I don’t allow you to; because as long as I am quiet they don’t think I am a threat. You can trust me because I care about this fight more than I care about either of us.

[Isha is a backstabber, in the most literal sense, but she has an unshakeable sense of justice. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do in its pursuit. She won’t argue that Corbin should trust her to have his back if they were hanging out socially, but when it comes to pushing back against the NWRF, he should trust her without doubt. Her ability to keep to herself makes the NWRF unlikely to look at her as a likely culprit in any group action against them; if Corbin can’t see why that makes her a boon to the cause, that’s his problem.]

[To her credit, she doesn’t give him sass or bitch and moan about how hard he’s making it for her—she gets straight to the point. Her distaste for him is a ‘personal issue’; her hatred for the NWRF, an ‘idealogical issue’ and she cares about this, quote, unquote, ‘fight’ more than she cares about him—’either of them’ actually, whatever that means. Is she suggesting she would put this fight before herself? Would she make sacrifices for the sake of other people? He’d not really pictured her as a suicide vigilante, type. She’d been in prison, hadn’t she? He’s not sure the details about what for, but he does know her reputation pre D-Day is violent. But aside from the riot—and yes, he remembers it well—he doesn’t think she’s done anything like that around here. Was it all just an inflated rumour that she was some sort of murderous mastermind? Had she spread it herself, or was someone who’d had a bad run in with her responsible for it? Had she been in prison for something else entirely? Or, is it possible she’d been wrongly accused? 

He doesn’t pretend to know—in other circumstances, he wouldn’t even care. Probably why he knows so little about the actual facts behind her story, because it’d not really affected him one way or another, so long as she wasn’t hovering over his bed at night with a knife, or something—but for the first time, it affects him a little more. If she’s a criminal, can she be trusted? And who is he to ask, anyway? Isn’t he a criminal in his own right? He certainly can hardly be trusted on most days. But about this... 

He watches her, pensive, mulling her words about in his mouth as he tongues at the smoke there before releasing through his teeth and nose.] 

Alright. Well... to be clear, this thing I happen to know ‘bout... first of all, it ain’t some grand spectacular scheme that’s gonna turn into a big riot or try to nuthin’. It won’t make the Reformists happy, but it also ain’t fuckin’ blatant anarchy. A lot of time n’ thought has gone into this—and the people involved... well, the point is to be subtle. To get the job done without gettin’ caught. Which is part of where the Telepath thing comes in. 

kip-whitmer​:

[Although Corbin laughs about his experiences, Kip’s never really sure how funny it is. Whether the laughter is just to cover up any discomfort. Obviously it can’t have been that bad or Corbin wouldn’t have kept working till recently, but Kip knows full well how addictive self destructive decisions can be. ‘Embracing the fucked up vulnerability’ isn’t exactly a reassuring notion, coming from him. Because it’s Corbin, though, it still makes Kip laugh in that surprised, head-shaking sort of way.] 

I prefer my fucks with enthusiastic consent rather than vulnerability, you know, choke me by pressing on the sides of my neck and not the windpipe so I won’t actually pass out, but thanks for that disturbing little insight into your psyche.

[That’s a huge part of the reason Kip feels so comfortable with Alex – because the man doesn’t make him feel vulnerable. He always feels safe and respected, so the sex feels intimate rather than risky.] 

Wait, wait, rewind for a sec, before the ‘hiring a tough guy goon’ part. You’d beat someone up for me? Love the sentiment, way hotter than you pulling strings. Would you punch Griffiths in the face? For me? He’s even spindlier than you, I think you could take him.

[ ‘Enthusiastic consent’ is a fine line, well drawn. Corbin can’t say that he was ‘enthusiastic’ about much of the sex he was paid for, even if it was consensual. When you grow up like Corbin, consensual was enough. Consensual was pretty much all you hoped for, even. And he stood by it—made sure, best he could, to never be taken advantage of, despite the way people tended to see him as ‘free game’ given his career choice. But enthusiastic? Yeah, it was few and far between where that was concerned. There were a handful of nights to remember, of course. A few returning clients with the agency he’d taken a liking to—at least when it came to their tastes in bed. But it definitely wasn’t the majority. Not even close. 

As for the sex he had in his spare time? Sure, some of it was enthusiastic—but he’d not had too much of it, to be honest. When sex is your job, day and night... well, there’s only so much even a young man in his prime can turn it on. 

It’s one of the many reasons why his relationship with Pax has changed so much about his life. About how he feels on a day to day basis. Words he’ll likely never admit out loud—certainly not to Kip, no offence. 

Kip seems entertained by the idea of Corbin beating someone up for him— ‘way hotter’, he says—and Corbin is torn between smirking, and rolling his eyes. In the end, he manages both.] Listen, mate, I’m bloody stronger than I look. I been doin’ this Col trainin’ bloocks fer fuckin’ years now, I was a looter before that, and those pricks are athletic and scrappy as fuck outta necessity—and before that I was workin’ a god damn pole for a livin’. I could kill a man with these fuckin’ lean, thunder thighs.

bodelevy-lindqvist​:

[He overlooks the ‘stud’, if only to avoid another disagreement. Today was not the day for arguments. Bode leans against the table, the one right across from Corbin’s before crossing his arms over his chest. His lips tease a smile but it doesn’t make it all the way to something larger.] I will keep that in mind next time. I do hate it when people try to take advantage of me. [Not that it’s happened in a very long time. There’s a short pause.] But since we’re both being forthcoming and everything, you should know, you’re not exactly my type. [Not that Corbin wasn’t pretty or anything, he just didn’t carry the right amount of feral Bode usually looked for in sexual partners. Bode liked it best when it hurt. Call it residual trauma all you want, he will always consider it a preference.] 

You couldn’t be fucked? [This time the smile makes it all the way to his face, teeth and all.] I’m sure the Chancellor would be very pleased to hear that, Ealy. [He realizes he shouldn’t be bad joking at Quinn’s expense in public, much less to an untrustworthy source like Corbin, but quite frankly, Bode doesn’t always know when to shut the fuck up. Now, that, that he did blame on childhood trauma. Whenever he tried to speak his mind as a child, even if only to hear the sound of his own voice, his father would smack him directly over the mouth. If you have nothing of substance to say, don’t talk. Suffice it to say that Bode never learned his lesson.]

What are you drawing on your arm anyway? [Bode squints at the drawing again but he still can’t quite figure out who it is.] 

Your lover?

You keep tellin’ yerself that, mate, [he drawls without looking up. He’s unbothered, but he’s also unconvinced. He’s everybody’s type. Well, everybody except stuffy, prudish, nerdy-innocent types, and Bode doesn’t strike him as such. Corbin’s got confidence, sex appeal, a sense of humour and tattoos. Even the 40 year old housewives who went out looking for a slutty, married football player, wound up wanting to take Corbin home. It’s both a gift and a curse. But mostly it’s a gift. One that had earned him a lot of cash, back when cash mattered.

At the comment about the Chancellor, Corbin’s gaze cuts up—trying to figure out if that’s a threat, or a joke. Coming from an Elite that he doesn’t know a whole lot about, it could go either way. He hooks a brow at Bode briefly.] Tell him if ya want, mate. Won’t come as any surprise, trust me. The Reforms know just how much of a rat’s arse I give ‘bout their mandate. I’m a thorn in their side, maybe a migraine to Modius, but other than that, don’t reckon they care too much. They look at me like I’m harmless trash—[sort of like Bode is looking at him now, actually, but if it’s implied, he doesn’t say so out loud. He’s not keen to start anything.] They don’t like to waste too much of their time arguin’ with me, and that’s just the way I fuckin’ like it.

[’Your lover?’ Corbin snorts, finishing up the stripes on Hobb’s tail.] He wishes. [He pauses, then blandly holds his wrist up to show Bode his masterpiece.] It’s Calvin, from Calvin and Hobbs. [A beat, and the corner of his mouth tips.] Actually, it’s Calvin shagging Hobbs. Saw it on a T-shirt once. You ain’t never read Calvin and Hobbs when you were a kid?