#comhra

“Ye mind?” Without even bothering to wait for an answer from the individual nearby, Bastian lit up a smoke. He didn’t care. He was outdoors and craving one badly.

@coltonleduc

Sometimes Bastian wondered where he would’ve ended up had he lived his life differently. Would he have been a more open person? Would he have allowed himself to get closer to more people? Would he have a love like the ones he’s read about? But then reality would set in and he’d brush those thoughts away. No amount of wondering would change the life he’s had and because of that, he just couldn’t see it all happening for him the way he was.

But then, there was Colton. He didn’t think of the younger man with doe-eyes or anything. But he couldn’t deny that they had grown somewhat close in the time he’s spent at PRIME. Which came as a surprise given the lad’s contrasting demeanor to his own. They were so different. And at first, Bastian found him irritating. But he was sweet and cute and persisted.

Damn him for having that weakness with others. That draw. He supposed it was what made him human still. The part of himself he could somewhat connect with at times.

It evolved from tolerance to more friendly and eventually physical. In more recent months, they’d spent time together more regularly. But Bas was still closed-off. Still reluctant. 

Tonight he was on his way to meet Colt. He didn’t think anything of the invitation when it was offered to him, so he’d casually agreed and took care of Calhoun before heading out for evening. The Irishman was unawares to the other’s underlying plans, having become perhaps too comfortable and used to seeing him...

@cassie-monroe

So maybe this wasn’t the best of ideas. Bastian was having all kinds of second and third thoughts about agreeing to even at least meet the Mavericks. But his doubt was outweighed by his hatred of being used. New cell, new restraints, new view. Still a prisoner. As much as he had been guilty of a number of unseemly acts, he believed his time spent in Protos more than covered his sentence.

So here he was, being escorted to some secret headquarters in a shady manner. Not that he wasn’t used to such measures. But he couldn’t help but think about what PRIME would do to him if they found out. He still wasn’t sure how or why the Mavs wanted to speak with him. It wasn’t like his involvement in Protos was known, even with the exposure and shutdown. And the Irishman didn’t exactly broadcast his dislike and contempt for PRIME. He was a good mongrel, so he’d been told...in no shortage of colorful terms and expressions.

But then, he wasn’t exactly the most friendly of people. He was smoking a cigarette, having developed the nasty habit almost immediately after his escape from Protos in order to help with his anxiety and bouts of paranoia.  

With a heavy sigh, Bastian stepped out of the coffee shop he’d frequented since he’d gained some semblance of freedom with his employ by PRIME. It was better than the alternative and they gave him a long leash at least, even though he’d considered running more than once.

For the first time that he could candidly recall, he was living a fairly normal life. Or what he’d consider normal, he supposed. No minimalist rooms deep inside a secured facility with observation glass and Protos scientists. No needles, no serums, no restraints. He wasn’t a lab rat to be studied and picked apart anymore. With a slight look of distaste, he pushed the thoughts away, habitually and unconsciously glancing over his shoulder as he walked along.