Lyme knows Brutus well enough to know that nothing good starts with him showing up at her front door with a bottle of decent bourbon and a six-pack. So she raises one eyebrow as she lets him in, waving vaguely in the direction of the kitchen.
Brutus sets the bottles on the counter and takes one of the beers, pops it open with the opener on his keys before taking it back to the couch. Lyme grabs a glass, pours herself a drink, and follows.
"So what's going on?" Lyme asks, settling back in her chair and taking a drink.
Brutus spins the bottle between his palms, pretends there's something really interesting about the label. "General Ronan's going to ask you to lead a new team," he says, finally looking up at her. "But fair warning, you're gonna hate it."
Lyme has a rule about reacting the way Brutus wants her to and it's "don't," so she doesn't say "What the fuck?" she just raises an eyebrow and motions for him to go on.
"They're putting together a unit called Special Threats," Brutus continues, "And they're going to ask you to lead it."
Lyme shrugs. "This have something to do with those collaboration tests they did last week?" she asks, because two weird things that close together have to be related. "Or all your trips up to Pasadena?"
"Yep," Brutus says, not specifying which he's responding to, so Lyme just assumes it's both. "You'll get briefed."
"Assuming I agree," Lyme says. "Which you don't think I'll want to do."
"They're recruiting civilians," Brutus says, "All girls, they have to pass a physical but other than that," he shrugs one shoulder. "I've seen the files, farm kids and mechanics and city girls who don't know shit."
"Why?" Lyme asks, because she can't help herself.
"They'll brief you," Brutus says again, and Lyme glares at him.
"Why'd you come over here if you can't tell me anything?" she asks.
"Because I think you should do it," he says. "They'll let you say no, probably," he admits, and Lyme would normally crow at the implication that she's valuable enough to do that, but Brutus has his serious face on. More even than usual. "But," and this time he actually pauses, looks sideways like he's trying to figure out what to say, and Lyme wishes there were a camera hidden somewhere to capture this. "You're good. We need you."
Lyme sits back, downs the rest of her drink and looks at him. "But you can't tell me anything about it."
Brutus shakes his head. "They'll.."
"They'll brief me," Lyme interrupts him. "I get it."
"You'd call me crazy if I told you." Brutus says. "I'm just hoping the warning means you won't call Ronan crazy to his face."
"I can't wait," Lyme says, deadpan.
--
When she comes home the next day Brutus is sitting on the bench on her porch.
She glares as she walks past to open the door, and he follows her in. The bottle's still on the counter and she pours herself a glass, grabs one of Brutus' beers from the fridge and tosses it to him.
"You weren't kidding about the crazy," she says, as she sits down.
Brutus huffs a laugh. "Nope," he says.
"They brought in one of your scientist friends," Lyme continues. "Since when are we living in a bad sci-fi movie?"
Now Brutus actually cracks a smile, sits back, watching her. "Don't ask me," he says. "I just try to keep them from getting themselves killed."
"You know the worst part?" Lyme asks, rhetorical, but Brutus answers anyway.
"Just how much fun Misha is going to have with this shitshow?"
"Yeah," Lyme says, running a hand through her hair. "New weaponry, unorthodox chain of command, flexible regulations, and she's supposed to be in charge of a bunch of girls from who-knows-where."
"Yep," Brutus says, only a little vindictive. "She's gonna have a blast."
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timeasmymeasure
Lyme and Brutus--They'll brief you (Octopus 'verse)
Date: 2015-12-19 05:52 pm (UTC)Brutus sets the bottles on the counter and takes one of the beers, pops it open with the opener on his keys before taking it back to the couch. Lyme grabs a glass, pours herself a drink, and follows.
"So what's going on?" Lyme asks, settling back in her chair and taking a drink.
Brutus spins the bottle between his palms, pretends there's something really interesting about the label. "General Ronan's going to ask you to lead a new team," he says, finally looking up at her. "But fair warning, you're gonna hate it."
Lyme has a rule about reacting the way Brutus wants her to and it's "don't," so she doesn't say "What the fuck?" she just raises an eyebrow and motions for him to go on.
"They're putting together a unit called Special Threats," Brutus continues, "And they're going to ask you to lead it."
Lyme shrugs. "This have something to do with those collaboration tests they did last week?" she asks, because two weird things that close together have to be related. "Or all your trips up to Pasadena?"
"Yep," Brutus says, not specifying which he's responding to, so Lyme just assumes it's both. "You'll get briefed."
"Assuming I agree," Lyme says. "Which you don't think I'll want to do."
"They're recruiting civilians," Brutus says, "All girls, they have to pass a physical but other than that," he shrugs one shoulder. "I've seen the files, farm kids and mechanics and city girls who don't know shit."
"Why?" Lyme asks, because she can't help herself.
"They'll brief you," Brutus says again, and Lyme glares at him.
"Why'd you come over here if you can't tell me anything?" she asks.
"Because I think you should do it," he says. "They'll let you say no, probably," he admits, and Lyme would normally crow at the implication that she's valuable enough to do that, but Brutus has his serious face on. More even than usual. "But," and this time he actually pauses, looks sideways like he's trying to figure out what to say, and Lyme wishes there were a camera hidden somewhere to capture this. "You're good. We need you."
Lyme sits back, downs the rest of her drink and looks at him. "But you can't tell me anything about it."
Brutus shakes his head. "They'll.."
"They'll brief me," Lyme interrupts him. "I get it."
"You'd call me crazy if I told you." Brutus says. "I'm just hoping the warning means you won't call Ronan crazy to his face."
"I can't wait," Lyme says, deadpan.
--
When she comes home the next day Brutus is sitting on the bench on her porch.
She glares as she walks past to open the door, and he follows her in. The bottle's still on the counter and she pours herself a glass, grabs one of Brutus' beers from the fridge and tosses it to him.
"You weren't kidding about the crazy," she says, as she sits down.
Brutus huffs a laugh. "Nope," he says.
"They brought in one of your scientist friends," Lyme continues. "Since when are we living in a bad sci-fi movie?"
Now Brutus actually cracks a smile, sits back, watching her. "Don't ask me," he says. "I just try to keep them from getting themselves killed."
"You know the worst part?" Lyme asks, rhetorical, but Brutus answers anyway.
"Just how much fun Misha is going to have with this shitshow?"
"Yeah," Lyme says, running a hand through her hair. "New weaponry, unorthodox chain of command, flexible regulations, and she's supposed to be in charge of a bunch of girls from who-knows-where."
"Yep," Brutus says, only a little vindictive. "She's gonna have a blast."