honor bradley

[The citizens involved in the rebranding have been in lock up for… about 8 hours and counting. So far, decisions on what exactly to do with them has been slow going, and the Colony seems to be in a moment of stillness, of waiting. Like a calm before a storm. Or a salute, even—a lull of respect in a moment of silence.] 

I mean this in the fondest way possible, but anyone else noticed that you take Quinley, Valentine, Ealy and Boyd out of the mix and you have yourself a much quieter colony?

[Alex isn’t wrong. Everything is much quieter tonight. But to Honor it’s more soothing than worrying---plus, she finally knows what all the fuss has been about. She really had hated being out of the know, so in a twisty roundabout way, it calms her. Even if she’s concerned, at least she knows now what pieces of the puzzle she’s been missing lately, and can react without feeling like she’s squinting through half-darkness.]

[Honor cocks her head at the other trainer.] You gettin’ sentimental on me, Donovan? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you miss the little buggers.

[Shit, really? He was getting angry, and she didn’t seem to want to back down, she just kept adding fuel to the fire. And making him angry and feeling guilty as she mentioned the Marshmallows. He wasn’t sure if she was joking, or if he truly did have to pay or exchange goods for it. No, probably not, it was a party after all. She was just trying to get on his nerves, and he was letting her.]

They are free. [And of course she knew that, and of course he knew she knew that, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He didn’t want to go all out - especially not against an Elite - but his brain wasn’t attaching the right wires and he couldn’t break with the person he had become in the wastes.] 

[He tried to ignore further comments, but knew he wasn’t that strong. He couldn’t keep the obvious anger off his face, and the emotion regarding her challenging him to a game, wasn’t strong enough to kick it off his face. He really didn’t want to play games with this lady!] 

[That thought didn’t keep him from at least thinking about it. He knew he wasn’t going to best her if he proposed anything considering endurance or strength. He didn’t have enough Stamina to run even once around the Colony. Games of intelligence in this case were more of a risk. He couldn’t guess Honor’s level of knowledge, but he certainly knew his own. That left only games of chance, a risk as well, but then it could go either way. He had already decided on a game, before deciding if he really wanted to play a game.] 

 And if you win?

[Honor learned a long time ago that her overbearing tendencies weren’t going to win her anyone’s hearts. But it’s how she was, and she didn’t know how to be any other way---she couldn’t be soft and sweet without kinda choking on it, could never be one to hide the motivations under her words for longer than a few seconds before spitting them right out in a starkly truthful confession. Ugly parts and everything.]

[And she also couldn’t be that mean, not to those who didn’t deserve it. He was right, the treats were free---with the expectation that one person wouldn’t take more than their fair share, but she wasn’t going to push him on that. And a challenge was a challenge---this was more a matter of pride now, wasn’t it?] You got a game in mind, then? If I win...

[She thought for only a moment, tapping her chin thoughtfully. She stayed perfectly serious even as she was grinning on the inside---it was perfect.] ...you lose the sheet. [It was literally all he had on him, and she could think of no better prize. Poor sod. Really should’ve seen it coming---or brought some pants.]

[Woah. Chick’s got an old bone that needed picking, doesn’t she? One she never quite got to settle and so she carries around with her, scratching at in anytime she gets a chance, as if it’ll fix whatever’s in her that’s still broken.

He’s learned the hard way, (through other people’s mistakes, of course) that it won’t. But he’s about to call her out on that, because though he highly doubt she could ‘drop him’, she does look very capable of throwing a solid right hook, and definitely irritable enough to do it.

He quirks a brow at her, not bothering to step back when she moves forward in her attempt to intimidate him. She’s feisty, sure, but she’s not very big is she? There’s only so much physical intimidation she can offer a man like Wes, at 6″2.]

Ah. Got it. Alright, Honor, well, no need to get bent out of shape—trust me, it’s not personal. I’ll make note, but, fair warning, it’s habit so might take a few tries to break. Though I’m sure the look on your face now will be a pretty decent reminder. [He smirks.] 

[So he’s not dumb enough to keep pushing---that’s a very wise decision on his part, probably. Honor accepts this compromise on nicknames with a curt nod.] Just as long as you’re trying to not be a prick, that’s what’s most important. 

[She gives this quite charitable assessment with her humour returning, slightly.] I’m a trainer. I’m used to seeing varying success levels, at the start of things. Believe it or not, you’re not the first man I’ve met who’s behavior has needed some adjustment. [He stands his ground---which is unusual, and results in her blinking up from beneath her lashes.] 

[She has to wonder if he’d be so gutsy if he knew the damage she could really do. He may be more intimidating on the surface, a lot of people are at first glance, but she knows exactly how little the size difference would come into play if she were to really let loose. So many years of being thought slight and delicate, growing up---then taking the time to prove herself stronger than each and every one of them. And now, on top of that, she can throw things with her mind. It’s all pretty fuckin’ poetic.]

[Meaning, he can strut and loom all he wants---she knows what she’s capable of. She grins slowly up at him, and retrieves one of the donuts off the stacked stick he’s holding, keeping her eyes steady. Everything’s a challenge, make no mistake. She turns the talk completely casual.] Baked these yourself, didja?

Oh—wow, I did NOT get that. [Hah. Whoops. Like, it IS kinda funny, and it’s even kinda funnier that Lake didn’t pick up on it, but like… he’s not sure if he’s allowed to laugh now, because this trainer still seems PRETTY mad or like… intense, anyway, and Lake is like… not really… sure if she was trying to be funny to lighten the mood, or just to confuse him. And one of those she succeeded in, and the other she pretty much didn’t.]

And uh, I dunno. Is that like, a trick question? Is it really any bigger of a penalty than telling a good lie? Like, other than the being less believable thing, but like. That doesn’t make sense. A lie is a lie is a lie. And like, honestly, I don’t know what else to say. Because if I AM that bad of a liar, than don’t you think I’d just like, skip all the crap and tell you the truth? But I’m not changing my story because I’m not lying. I really don’t know what you’re talking about and it’s also, like, none of your business? Like, maybe it’s my religion, you don’t know. Maybe I have a hickey. On my wrist. Because I have a girlfriend who thinks she’s a vampire and was going for the vein. 

But point is, I know for a fact, like, I’m not doing anything wrong by wearing a stupid sweatband? Like, you may think I’m easy to push around, and maybe I can’t blame you for thinking that based off my general, like, non-threatening demeanour or whatever. I get it, I’m laughable. But I’m not doing anything wrong AT ALL, and you don’t have a right to interrogate me on, like… my clothes? Like, that’s some NWRF crap right there, if I’m being honest. Like, I dunno if you noticed but this place wasn’t totalitarian until they got here, and like… you can’t just berate me and throw me into correctional or something for wearing a harmless sweatband. So like. Chill. And maybe back off. Because I know my rights and I’m PRETTY sure I’m within them, lady. 

And if you even take one step towards me, I swear I’m gonna tell someone. Like another Elite. Who will see my side, I’m pretty sure. Please stop berating me, unless you have like… a warrant. I don’t owe you anything. Except maybe respect, and I’m pretty sure you haven’t earned that. So like, that’s up for like… debate. 

[Wow, that was either brave or stupid, Lake, and the safe bet, with you, is always the ‘stupid’ option. But despite his rambling, he’s prettty sure he’s NOT wrong. He could walk away right now and there’s nothing she could really do about it, because he’s not done anything wrong, and she’s kinda bullying him for nothing? And also, like, if she DOES get physical with him for no reason, he could totally report her. He has no idea who the hell would listen, but he could TRY and he can certainly tell her he would and hope that makes a difference.]

[Honor’s expression grows darker as words come tumbling out of Lake that seem like he’s giving her the run-around---which she definitely doesn’t appreciate. By the time he gets to blaming it on vampires or whatever nonsense, she’s pretty well irritated. But then his tone changes, a little, and he starts accusing more than explaining.]

[And that really gets to her. Dropping in a comparison like her asking what the hell this stupid trend is and why no one’s talking about it is NWRF-worthy, that has her practically growling. Near her feet, pebbles rattle, like there’s a stampede going to come down on him in a few moments, which there very well might be. Then he threatens her, says he’s going to call another Elite on her, and her eyes go wide with shock. Seriously? All she’d wanted was a simple answer to a simple bloody question.]

[But she gets it, a little more, as she stands there quietly. The rocks on the ground lay still. She’s an authority figure, even if she forgets it sometimes. And in this case, Valentine’s implying that she’s abusing that authority.]

[Which fucking sucks to have pointed out because she can’t even argue with him. Even if she’s only a couple years older than him, she is still an Elite. She’s never been one to be that strict with the rules, wouldn’t even give a shit what the band really was for, except that no one will tell her, and she feels left out.]

[She wants to throw a tantrum, but she’s a super-powered adult in a position of power---she doesn’t have the right to complain about something this petty.]

[ One slow blink is given hearing his official first name before diving back in on the.. ok, perhaps this is sort of fun. ] Effortless intimidating sexy hellbeast– don’t you think that category has enough contenders already? I mean. Thought you’d be more original than that. Like, have your own specific niche and all. ‘Cuz sexy hellbeast competition is pretty fierce around here, I’ll warn you right now. 

[ Her laugh is as loud outside as it is blasting through the suite occupied by Torren Elites. The smile more like a warm cup of coffee in winter-chilled hands. It only then dawns on Pax that, despite sharing the same space, he’s never talked more to Honor other than a few playful jabs in passing. More often than not he’s exchanging sarcastic comments with her around the training field. 

Even though they are the only infected Elite in Torren. Pax wonders what she’d think about tonight. If she knew. Probably think the idea of covering tattoos is half-cracked. He demurs to her (accurate) suggestion with a huffed laugh that he could possibly be a source of booze. As long as she doesn’t know about the rest of his expanding enterprise, they’ll get along just fine. ] Hey, no judgment here. Since we’ll have to wait another five years for anything worthwhile to happen. [ His lower lip is sucked between his teeth for a second, giving her the imaginary triumphant moment that’s she’s all grows up with a grin. ] Yeahhh. Right. See, you boomeranged straight back to Torren for a reason. It isn’t to be a model of maturity and moderation for the rest of us either. My theory is: this island of misfit toys we’re stuck on gets a bit boring for you. And at least in Torren everyone can take your shit. And give it back just as good. Am I correct– why, of course I am, ya don’t even need to answer.

[ In truth, Pax only cares about Torren when they’re winning the Games. In order to rub it in the face of whoever is easiest to offend. He holds a cup just out of reach from her. ] So in celebration of tonight, and because you’ve accused me of having no spirit for the evening either.. I will extend an olive branch to you. One that is 40% alcohol by volume. For free. Unless you’re still stuck on being too fucking mature to be fully corked. Which wouldn’t be much fun, in my opinion.

Maybe so. But outta all of them, I have to try the least. Hence the effortless. [Besides, these days, a lot of very attractive people turned out to be obnoxious in one way or another---and that was weeding the competition. She wouldn’t add it aloud though, since she knew Pax was definitely obnoxious. He might get his feeling hurt.]

[The offered cup is accepted and she sniffs the contents, experimentally. Her mouth drops open in a mockery of utmost shock.] You confiscated something--the only reasonable assumption I could make as to why you possess such goods---That means--- [Insert theatrical gasp, hand to heart.] You actually did your job. I’m so fucking proud of you, man. [She wipes an invisible tear from her cheek.] And now you want to dispose of the contraband in a responsible manner, it’s---it’s truly warming my heart. [The only real surprise is that he’s offering it free of charge---must be sweeter on her than she ever thought.]

[She’s more than aware of the danger of getting caught by other elites, or worse having to actually do something important like fend off a surprise raid like the other day. But the day Allana Morgan’s only daughter couldn’t do her job and have a couple drinks the same time, they’d be in real dire straights. Honor knows exactly how much she can handle---benefits of growing up near the stuff---and she’s full certain she could drink Skinny Legs Semenyuk under any table and still be capable of K.O.-ing a looter or filing her training paperwork ten minutes later.]

[She wasn’t going to go slow. Zach found out he sort of already disliked her, if not for the fact that she took his mallows without asking, then for the fact that she vibrated a clear “I am better than you” persona that he had never gotten used to. She made a joke out of it, which he usually could take, if it wasn’t for the quick pace she took going from announcing he was new, to introducing herself, to calling him Marshmallow. He hated nicknames, and he didn’t want to be compared to a mallow, even if he sort of liked them, sometimes.]

I think you were taking. [He didn’t want to say stealing. But he really wanted to say stealing.]

[He didn’t grin, he was stilling looking at her all dumb-founded, like a fool who just had his mallows stolen, or at least half of them. And he couldn’t take them back. It left him continuously wondering why anyone would steal anyone’s mallows without asking!? Why?! He really didn’t know why he cared so much, no, maybe he did: because it made no sense, taking something, stealing. Sure he had gotten it from the table, and he could easily go back and get some more, but he would’ve given her some if she had asked for it.] 

I’m new. 

[He wondered if she really was as arrogant as she seemed, or if the smoke and alcohol of the night had risen to her head.] I am sure they will. [He wasn’t trying to sound sarcastic, he was just still with his mind elsewhere, same conversation, different point in time. His mind was stuck there.] 

You can call me Zach. [He pronounced, not even daring to use his full name, afraid she might make fun of that too. He quickly stuffed his mouth with all the mallows that were left, and hoped they would be done with it.] 

[Honor bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smirking. He’s angry. Over marshmallows. A hothead herself, she recognizes the rage that comes with stupid things---just because the reason is ridiculous, doesn’t make the anger any less potent, and doesn’t mean he can really calm himself down from it. Still, it’s pretty damn funny to be on the other side of it for once. No wonder people got exasperated with her, if this was the sort of thing she did. She nods slowly.] 

Ahhh... I see. [She stays perfectly serious, maybe more than---wide eyes and sincerity, all the way.] Whereas, you, I’m sure, got them all fair and square, with some... equal exchange of goods or services? [Probably he just jammed as many in his hands as he could when no one was looking---and wouldn’t appreciate having that pointed out, but she just can’t resist.]

[But she’ll cut him a break, and save the name calling for some better time. She’s supposed to be setting a good example, especially for newcomers, and she did already steal his mallows.] Zach it is, then. Less colorful---but I still like you anyway, tall man. [That isn’t so much another nickname as just a basic descriptor---looking up, quite a ways, she’s suddenly got an idea for how to make this more fun for both of them, and maybe find some common ground with him.] 

Tell you what. If you can beat me in competition---any competition, you choose---I’ll reimburse you for what I took. [Now, she grins.] Sound fair?