Participants:
| Scene Title | Ash's Day Out |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Isis and Ash put together the pieces and come up with a genocidal plot that needs to be stopped. So Monday. |
| Date | September 2, 2019 |
Bay Ridge - Dirk & Isis's Apartment
When Isis walks through the door there are going to be a few things very evident very quickly. First will probably be the smell of the pizza. Loaded with cheese and a distinctly garlicy sauce, it’s still hot and the scent is definitely filling the living room area. Second might just be the noise from the TV. Which is on. Is that an odd thing at this hour of the day? Should Dirk be home? Third? It’s definitely not Dirk that is home. Nope. Someone else has made themselves at home though. Ash is sitting on the living room couch his legs stretched out in front of him, up under the coffee table where the pizza rests with a couple of plates that have been fetched from the kitchen. The leather jacket that Curtis normally wears is draped over the back of the couch, and the jeans and t-shirt are more reminiscent of Curtis’s style of dress.
But the man sitting on the couch is not bothering to try and pretend to be the person those clothes belong too. The easy relaxed manner, the genuine laugh at something on the TV, and the casual cockiness that is one hundred percent Ash that try as Curtis might he could never quite reproduce. Curtis can pretend to be murderous terrorist (Ahem freedom fighter) Ash. But he could never pretend to be Ash in his more relaxed moments. “You’re home! Good. Pizza is still hot.” His head turns, eyes taking in the redhead that has walked through the door. His hair is longer than he used to keep it, but a bit shorter than Curtis has been keeping it as of late, and the beard has been trimmed neat and clean. Also not something Ash ever had before. A couple day’s scruff was usually his limit before he’d shave it away.
The door is still half ajar behind her when Isis’s gaze settles on… all of that.
The world has spun backward. Time rewound. Somewhere, somehow, some timeline got crossed in hotwiring the universe. The image of Ash, with that carefree grin - that too familiar, too long ago expression - superimposed on reality as she knows it now… it makes the horizon tilt, the axis of the world shift of kilter. Isis drops her keys with a clatter and holds her gloved hand to her head as her shiny hazel eyes pin down the man across the room, while her brain and her body stand on the precipice and consider best which reality to embrace.
She drops the heel of a combat boot, catching the door and sending it into the frame with a decisive clack. Isis smiles. “Honey, I’m home,” she teases back. Her smile pinches on one side and she tips her head, beginning to carefully peel off her gloves as fluid paces carry her across the carpeted expanse. “To what do I owe the… surprise visit?” There’s a subtle tension in the careful pick of her words, strung on lilted honey-alto. She rounds the coffee table, blocking the television with a pop of one hip.
This is a scene straight out of their lives a decade ago. Ash showing up unannounced, often with food in tow, making himself at home. He sees Isis having her moment, and he… just continues to watch the TV for that moment before he leans back into the couch, his arms spreading across the back of it, lounging into the cushion as a slow smirk curls the corner of his mouth upwards. "You dropped your keys." He points out helpfully with that smirk turning into a smarmy sort of smile, his chin tilting upwards a bit. "Also your door is o… nevermind." That smile turns into the cocky grin that Isis knows so well. Not that it was a common expression persay, but the body snatcher would have seen it often enough a lifetime ago.
"Hey. I was watching that." Ash mock grumbles before his broad shoulders lift in a simple shrug and then drop back down. "Garza and his pet telepath fucked up. Flipped my switch one too many times. That or the switch isn't working right anymore. I met up with them. Somehow got flipped back to Curtis mid meeting. Then they flipped me back again after I got back to the Bunker, still not sure how that works. Timed maybe? Mental suggestion that clicks after a bit? Any which way… I ended up in the driver seat and… I haven't exactly told them yet so… shhhh." Ash's pointer finger rises up in front of his lips. "Hung around the Bunker for a few days so as not to arouse suspicion and then took a few days to come into the city. Voila. Ash and a pizza." That smarmy smile stays in place, though there’s something a little more to it now, something that almost speaks of vulnerability. He’s waiting to see how Isis reacts, what she says and does.
Her gloves hit the coffee table between them with a quiet slap. Isis’s gaze narrows on that singular digit bisecting Ash’s lips, her playful smirk faltering ever so slightly at the corners. “So, no one knows you’re here,” she comments more thoughtfully. “You’re not visiting on any orders?” The question is voiced casually, but the redhead inclines her chin so as to cast a skeptical glance at the firmly shut front door of the apartment.
She turns back to Ash with the tip of her tongue toying at the bridge of her teeth thoughtfully. Hazel eyes regard the waiting man stretched cockily along the sofa, prying out the subtle details that signal a certain tentative hesitance hinged upon… little ol’ her? Huh!
Isis’s peachy lips crack a sincere smile, spiced though it is with a proud sort of bravado. Her boot comes up on the coffee table beside the pizza, propelling her up with the same movement in which she turns smoothly and falls back onto the couch into the crook of Ash’s arm. She cants her head to consider Ash’s expression from a mischevious side-eye.
“Don’t tell Drik I did that.” Smooooth.
Ash's eyes flicker down to the hands that slap onto the coffee table, then back up, both brows lifting in amused disbelief. 'Dramatic much?' his features speak the question for him. His hand falls down to rest on his leg though. "I can honestly tell you, that I would never under my own will make a pretense of coming here like this. If I was here on business I wouldn't pretend to be here to spend time with you. You deserve much better than that. Especially from me." The easy smile from Ash doesn't falter despite the more somber intonation of his words.
He waits though, this man who hasn't had anything like a life in a decade. Hasn't gotten to just spend time with his friends, what few there still are these days, that hasn't gotten to sit and watch a movie while eating pizza. He sits and he waits while Isis deliberates. Did he know just showing up like this was a risk? Sure. But he also had to try at least. So he sits there, suspended in that moment as he watches a woman that at one point probably knew him the best of anyone in the world. He never let anyone else in like he let Isis in. So yes, tentative hesitance, vulnerability, from the big bad killer over the tiny redhead on the other side of the coffee table from him.
There's a jerk of Ash's body as he starts to spring into motion, not sure what is happening. He relaxes back though as Isis turns and falls into the couch with him. "Dirk's the roommate? Skinny kind of looks like he lives to annoy people?" Ash's arm curls just a bit, settling partially on Isis's shoulders, just a light contact as he turns his head to look to the little body snatcher. "Don't worry. I'll make sure to mention it to him as soon as I see him. Hi guy I don't know who's apartment I'm lounging about in unexpectedly. Your roommate totally played Captain Morgan with your coffee table." Ash pauses a moment, eyes looking slightly lost for a breath or two. "Do people still do Captain Morgan references? I have no idea what the kids are up to these days."
Warmth emanates from his subtly curved arm. Isis slithers, a subtle ripple from nape to heel. It feels like fire through the thin gray cotton of her long-sleeved shirt. Truth be told, she feels even smaller than she looks - a full foot shorter and unable to directly meet his gaze when his visage turns. She keeps a fine cheekbone turned up towards his whiskered face, letting the visible corner of her smile twitch up into a daring little barb. “You’ll regret it,” she promises in a sing-song tease.
Hot amber-hazel meets crisp cerulean, holding. Perhaps she considering his earlier words - what she deserves, especially from him. The right side of her lip turns plump as she bites down on the left. She takes a deep breath and then…
“So, what kind did you get, hm?” Isis lunges forward and nabs the pizza box in two greedy hands, pulling in back to rest across both their laps. “I haven’t eaten anything in this apartment that doesn’t have a tamper-proof lid since that chocolate bar incident…” She doesn’t elaborate but paws open the box, turning her face up to Ash with a beaming smile and wide eyes. And for just a moment she’s not a terrorist, ninety-nice percent of the world isn’t going to die, Ash wasn’t sent to kill her, and everything is okay. For just a moment, she’s not afraid. There’s warmth and pizza, after all.
Ash is quite the big, and Isis is quite the small it is true. He is even lounging into the couch too, not sitting up straight, not that it makes that much of a difference. it does still leave Isis having to look up at him and him having to tilt his chin down to look her in the eye. "Oh I'm sure I will. But that will mean I'm still in control enough to regret it. That's regret I'll take." His voice just laden with cocky confidence. That smug smile stays in place as hie eyes flicker from her to the TV and pizza, then back to the little redhead, blue eyes meeting hers once more. "What?" He asks, seeing the look from her but not quite knowing the thoughts behind it.
"Plain cheese. I…" There's a momentary pause as if afraid to admit what comes next. "I forgot what you like on your pizza?" His face scrunches up, a hand lifting to rub where scars used to cross his face. "Still feels weird not having the scars. Didn't notice it as much during the missions. They were brief and I was focused. But now that I've been myself for a few days it feels weird. I can still feel the way they used to pull when I'd smile or scowl." He works his face around a little bit as if trying out the feel of it all before he relaxes back into that easy smile. "I forgot what you like on your pizza. It's been.. a while. So figured plain cheese couldn't hurt."
He snags a slice for himself when the box is opened. It's still warm if no longer hot. "Is the chocolate bar story one you can tell? Or a had to be here sort of deal?" He asks curiously, not bitterly like might be expected given why he's missed such a joke. "This is good." He murmurs after a moment, chewing slowly. "Not as good as what we used to grab, but good considering most of the city still looks like a war zone."
There's a moment or two's contemplation. "Not sure what happened though. Slightly worrying. The whole me being in the driver's seat. Pretty damn sure Garza and Espenosa don't know I'm in control. Going to milk that for as long as I can. They'll be pissed when they eventually find out or figure it out, but that's alright." A quick grin from him as he leans in a little bit, his arm curling further around Isis's shoulders. "So what's this new Baby Yoda I keep seeing online?"
“Cheese is perfect.” Isis’s tone is gentler than necessary, trying to ease the unnecessary guilt. “I love Hawaiian, too, but some seem to think that’s just another stain on the Ginger soul. “ She peels a piece of pizza from the box and takes a large bite, a string of cheese sticking down her chin. “Oh godf. Vats goodf.” Chewing, prodding the loop of cheese back past her lips, she nods agreement at Ash. “Remember the dive around the corner? The place with only standing room in front of the counter? The pizza there. Oh, and the wings. Mmm.”
She sets the pizza down in the box, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together. “You’re asking the wrong person - I think Captain Morgan is a totally appropriate reference, don’t understand baby yoda, and still haven’t caught onto the SLICE train. I spent the last ten years in the woods, darlin’. Let’s live in the ignorance of the ninties and two-thousands a little longer, hm?” If only. She indulges a warm laugh. “The chocolate story isn’t funny if you ask me.” A purse of her lips suggests it would be plenty funny from an outsider’s perspective, but she’s not inclined to share. Instead, she turns slightly under Ash’s arm and considers his smooth face. “It’s like a fresh start… Maybe it could be if you wanted,” she lifts a hand in gesture, but her bare fingers curl in like a dying spider before they can reach him.
“You aren’t going to tell either of them, then? What about Adam?” Isis chooses a careful pause and an even more careful tone, dipping each word in a thin honey coating of casual curiosity… “Don’t trust them not to put you back in the box?”
"Well they'd be wrong. Hawaiian pizza is superior to almost any other pizza. Doesn't work as well in chicago style because you don't get the same cook on the ham and the pineapple. But any other sort of pizza hawaiian is definitely the best." Ash murmurs. "But I mean it can't be a stain on something that isn't there." Ash deadpans as he turns his head to peek down at Isis after his gingers have no souls joke.
"God they had the best food. So many places like that gone. The bar that wasn't far from your old place. They had the best bar food. And damn good beer. First thing I did after realizing control wasn't going to snap back was get a hoagie from this shop near the Bunker. I miss Sal's though. In Brooklyn. Best sandwiches in the city."
He takes another bite of his pizza, chewing slowly and clearly enjoying it. He doesn't need to set his slice down, he finishes it with a couple more quick bites, chewing slowly, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk's. One does not put a slice of pizza down. One finishes it.
"The hell is slice? You're not doing well with the whole reacquainting me with current pop culture here red. You spent ten years in the woods. I spent ten years boxed in because Adam is a dick. It'll be worth it if he pulls it all off though. So you should definitely be more up on what's going on in the world than me."
There's a teasing smirk from him. "Fine. I'll ask Dirk about the chocolate bar then if I meet him." His smile falters, but just for a moment when he sees that hand curl back. His own reaches up and he takes her hand gently in his, curling his fingers around hers, quite dwarfing her much smaller hand. "I have never been afraid of your touch Isis. Now then, not now, not ever. Even when you couldn't control it and we had to have an awkward body swap moment first." He smiles, the cockiness still there, it's never not with Ash, but there's a warmth to his tone and his expression as well.
"Maybe. To the fresh start bit. Don't know how long this will last before the trigger gets flipped back, or it's even possible the barrier between Curtis and Ash is breaking down. Which could prove… interesting. Either way I'm going to enjoy the time I have." At the question there's a slow breath inhaled and held as he considers it, then exhaled.
"I haven't talked to Adam in a long time. Wouldn't know how to reach out to him even if I wanted to tell him. As for trust… I trust Adam to do what is best for the cause. Which is… probably putting me back in the box. As far Garza? I have a hard time getting a read on him. But pretty sure he'd do the same. I suppose as it gets to be mission time I might have to let them know so they don't swap me to Curtis and give him the mission details."
“Better question. Why do you think I’d be able to reach out directly to Adam? Do you have a direct line to the man himself?” People think of Ash and Curtis both as brutes, but they’re smart. Always have been. They just tend to excel at the more physical brand of violence.
“One freckle for every soul I’ve acquired, darlin’.” Isis inclines her chin proudly, baring round cheeks and a little nose all scattered with a fine shift of cinnamon. “S.L.C.E. - slice. SLC-Expressive. Kinda witty-cute, right? But, being more up on things,” she mocks his deep baritone, but let’s be honest - she’s terrible at impressions. “-… requires people.” She makes a playfully sour face.
Then his hand comes up. “Wai-…” She jerks her hand, but he’s too close. No, she’s too close. His larger digits blanket her tiny fist and she clenches her eyes shut. To focus on keeping them in their proper bodies? Or, to try and shut out the memories that his touch and words inspire. Either way, several seconds remain suspended with the two bodies locked this way, consciousness fluttering at the boundaries of the tangible world… “No, you were never afraid…” she agrees in the form of a whisper, a thought left only half-finished.
Something slips. Nothing visible in the here and now. On the tight grip reigning in her ability. Like a fickle feral thing, the lead jerks left where it usually pulled right. She twists it, back into her command, but they’ve already slipped somewhere else. Somewhere they shouldn’t be…
Ash holds Isis, a much different Isis - younger, yes, but also different in features, in a cradling sweep. Both their faces are open, unbridled - laughter has that affect. It tears down walls. Exposes. And they laugh together.
When her eyes shoot open they have lost some of their warmth, but only in exchange for the shinier qualities of searching and worry. “Did you-…?” Had she imagined it? The question about Adam is, at least for the moment, forgotten.
"Methinks you're committing some fraud there Red." Ash's hand vaguely gestures at Isis's face even as his lips quirk up into a smirk. "Henna freckles don't count." Ash's head tips to the side at the explanation of what slice means, brow furrowing confusion. "Slice. I suppose Evolved wasn't PC anymore? And yeah before you say anything I can see why regular people wouldn't care for that term. But what does SLC stand for?" He asks, mumbling through a few words trying to figure out the acronym before giving up and shaking his head. He stops dead with a barely restrained snort. "Was that supposed to be me? I'm sure that wasn't supposed to be me." Yeah, he's well ware it was indeed supposed to be.
“Never afraid of you no. There’s very little in my life that I’ve ever been afraid of. You definitely don’t rank in that list. Not that your power couldn’t be used for some pretty incredible or terrible things. But I have never once worried that you’d use it against me.” There’s a gentle lift of the corner of his mouth into a lopsided smile. “So, abo…” But then there's the lurch and something strange happens. The world is gone for a moment and then back and it leaves him blinking rapidly, eyes flickering around the room before centering once more on Isis.
"That's… new." He admits after a moment, but doesn't pull his hand away from hers. He maintains the contact unless she herself tries to pull her hand free of his. "That was new wasn't it? I don't recall that sensation before. Though it's been… a long time since I've experienced your power." There's a look of concern on his features, but not concern or worry for himself, no for her. "That definitely felt like something new, and you look confused yourself." His eyes narrow as he thinks all of that over, mulling it over while he watches her features.
The soft angle at the back of her jaw tenses slightly as she twists the reins on her ability back within her control. Her breath comes out a strained hiss, the next a little steadier as inch by inch she wrestles her psyche back into place. She could just pull her hand away, of course. But, she doesn’t. “Very new…” It’s barely a whisper as she turns her gaze to where his fingers lay over her knuckles, paler than is common under the strain of her shaking little fist. “I don’t know if it’s related, but…” She gives a noncommittal shrug. “Since you asked - I just got back from seeing Adam.” An Adam, anyway.
Ash's eyes search Isis' face, roaming over the woman's features looking for any sign that she knows what just happened. But when he doesn't find any he just looks concerned. "Well, ability changes can be unpredictable. This one time in the marines…." Ash's features scrunch up a little bit and his brows furrow. "Sorry. That's… not me. That's Curtis. I mean Curtis's memory. Not Curtis intruding. We've been together up here so long that some times it's hard to sort the memories. He goes through it too." Ash's head gives a slow shake that is interrupted with a curious look to the redhead.
"Oh really?" He asks in of all things a slightly amused tone. "And what did Adam want? Or should I not be asking that? All this compartmentalized crap…" Ash's eyes roll towards the ceiling, but he hasn't broken contact with Isis's hand, keeping hold of it unless she pulls it away. "Compartmentalization doesn't work the way most people think it does. I understand secrecy and discretion but everyone not knowing what everyone else is up to… or is that just me? I know that I get handled differently from a lot of the rest. Different sorts of assignments. I have less compunction about committing violence than most people." Ash isn't a psychopath as Isis well knows. "I'm just… wired differently than most people. Probably on account of me not actually being… real. Was designed that way as near as I can tell."
Isis watches as Ash unfolds like one of those strange flippy little paper pyramids from highschool - a new little note secreted away behind each flap until the whole thing will eventually unfurl into a larger story. She blinks once and holds a beat of silence even after he’s finished, tilting her head like a curious feline before the corner of her lips tickles up ever so slightly in a way that reaches the rest of her freckled face.
“Hm? Oh. Uh, he wanted to save me from my own stupidity. Save my life?” Yup, definitely more question than statement. “I guess? I hope.” Finally, Isis slinks her hand out from Ash’s, letting her fingers roam and probe none-too-gently at the soft fleshy inner crook of her left elbow. “I’m- not a big compartmentalization, either. There’s a line between security and secrecy…. I’m not sure which side Shedda’s really playing.” Isis’s nose twitches. “What’d they have you do, anyway?”
It's funny. Curtis has spent years telling people that his head isn't right and people generally don't believe him or brush it off as PTSD type stuff. But Ash on the other hand, the terrorist, the murderer, the assassin, the criminal. He gets believed. His head is shaken in an attempt to banish the odd fugue state that that crossover memory brought in. "Adam. Wanted to save you? From your own stupidity? This sounds like a story Red. This sounds like quite the story indeed." There's a little smirk from Ash, that cockiness settling back in it's natural place on his features. But he doesn't pry into what happened. It's Isis's story to tell if she wants to tell it.
"Shedda is definitely playing the secrecy side. And secrecy is not always security. Secrecy can sometimes very much compromise security. It's why countries end up disavowing their operatives when they get captured. Nope sorry no clue who that is. There's no support and no backup when you get caught out and you've been too secretive." Ash's head shakes in disapproval.
"Shedda is at least doing something though. We fought a war. And in exchange we've given up even more of our freedom. It's amazing really, how the people who stood up to say what was happening was wrong, have turned around and boxed us in even more. The slow infiltration is the best one. Instead of being reactive this administration has slowly taken our rights. Just a nibble here and a nibble there. In the name of national security. In the name of national safety. To protect the Evolved citizens from what the Institute did happening again. And all the while the noose tightens. So slowly you don't even realize it until you feel the rope cinch around your neck. And then it's too late.”
“Everyone else is sitting by complacently. Shedda is doing something. Even if it feels like they're going about it back asswards." Ash never one to let good food go cold leans over and snags another slice of pizza and takes a bite from it, chewing slowly as he considers his answer. "Nothing yet. I'm going to be breaking into a military facility in Kansas City to steal a missile guidance system developed to penetrate NORAD defensive systems. Was confiscated from Fort Irwin." Ash’s chin tilts upwards in Isis’s direction. “What about you? What did they have you do? Or what are they having you do?”
Isis finds herself tilting her head and rubbing pale fingers up the side of her neck as Ash speaks. Is the air getting thick in here? Anyone? The redhead clears her throat and lets her hand draw still, resting on her own collarbone as she considers cocky man before her. One brow rises, but that’s not sufficient so the other one follows quickly after. “Oh, is that all? What the hell is he going to do wi-…” Don’t ask. Because there is such thing as a stupid question, and it’s that very one.
Her fingers take on a claw-like poise, curling into the hollow around the fragile ridge of her collar and pressing glassy nails into crescenting imprints in her skin. She keeps her gaze trained on his, making sure that he holds fast to his own piece of the puzzle as she tosses hers in to the abstract jigsaw design. “I stole and delivered Gorgon. A virus engineered to kill Evos.” Tick - The jagged little piece fits so perfectly with his.
"Well. I would imagine he's looking to blow something up. Though… could be seeking to deliver something via jet or something like that. But given that he's got a teleporter in his back pocket I don't know why he'd need a guidance system for that. So yeah, almost definitely for a weapon. Big boom. And knowing Adam… probably pretty showy."
Ash eyes the hand that's roaming around, looking from it to her with a raised brow in question. Why's she all fidgety and nervous? "Either it's something super essential that he can't trust too many people trying to retrieve, or it's not terribly important and I'm expendable. Maybe both. Probably both. And… oh." Ash's head tilts back slowly as he considers that, his features scrunching up for a few moments.
"Oh. Fucking… hell. He's going to use it to deliver the virus. He'll hit somewhere peaceful, secure. Like Kansas City or Detroit. Wipe out the Evos and use it as an excuse to launch a crusade." Ash doesn't look horrified like most people probably would. No he looks… impressed. "That's fucking cold. I knew he could be but damn. That's… next level." He reaches a hand up, fingers scritching lightly through the short beard on his jaw.
"You probably thought you were stealing it to keep it out of the hands of those who might use it against us. And it's going right into the hands of someone who is going to do just that. He's going to do it with a purpose but… damn. And now I wonder if this wasn't why everything is so damned segregated within Shedda. To keep these puzzle pieces from being slotted together." Ash breathes out a slow sigh. “I hope I’m wrong. Because that would mean that despite Garza’s insistence, that this is not a group of equals. If it was we would have known this was the plan.”
“I hope you’re right,” she says in stark contrast, but clearly she is unconvinced. “One percent of a localized area is better than…” Isis jerky hunkering of her shoulders, a gag, fills in where she can’t quite form the words. She turns her hazel gaze up to Ash’s face, looking for the story behind the the collected exterior. After a moment she gives a slow, subtle shake of her head without breaking eye contact. “I’m sure you’re right.” She lying to him. “A small, calculated loss seems much more plausible than mass nationwide genocide of the non-evolved.” She’s lying to herself, too.They both know it.
“But, I don’t like being in the dar.” She ticks up a finger. “I don’t like being lied to.” Tick two. “And, I don’t like what I saw in Praxia.” Tick three. “Three strikes, Ash. Maybe this Shedda business isn’t for me?” But, that isn’t really the question she’s asking, is it. She knows it's not for her now. She didn’t get what she came for. It’s not there. But, in walking away the real question is: Come with me, Ash?
Ash takes in a deep breath, leaning back into the couch a little bit, the slice of pizza laying forgotten in the pizza box half eaten as he contemplates a lot. His features go through a lot of emotions in a very short time, but then they go relaxed and at peace. "We have two choices. Either you're going to have to figure out a way to sway Curtis to helping us. Or we have to find Garza's pet telepath and I'll need to kill him. Can Garza find a new one? I'm sure. But it will take time to find one he can trust, that he can bring over to whatever Adam is planning.” There’s a gentle sigh from him, a hand lifted up to his face and then layd over it before being slowly dragged down his features.
“Because there's no way Espinoza doesn't know the plan. Not being a telepath and being around Garza so much. Putting him down will mean I can stay in control. For a while at least.” Ash lets hand fall back into his lap and his eyes flicker upwards to meet Isis’. “I’m not okay with genocide. I understand the need to sacrifice the few to save the many. But if we’re right this is /so/ much more than that.” Ash’s next breath is another deep inhale before a hand reaches out to rest on Isis’ knee, giving it a gentle squeeze, more to seemingly reassure himself than her.
“And… I think we'll need Kaylee Thatcher's help. She’s rooted around up here already,” Ash’s pointer finger taps the side of his head a few times. “And should be able to defuse the trigger that flips me from Ash to Curtis. Or at least unravel it enough that Curtis and I can… blend back together? I have no clue who I'd be at the end of that, but it has to be better than living in fear of Espinoza flipping me back, or Garza finding a new pet telepath if I put Espinoza down."
Isis’s brows twitch up. And settle. Her smile flicks a degree to the left. And settles. Some of the wirings gone and gotten crossed. Surprised. Touched. Don’t make any sudden moves - he might change his mind. She swallows, a lump knitting larger and larger in her throat until she must look away. To where his hand rests on her knee. This time she doesn’t try to hide her smile, letting the flicker blossom properly on her cinnamon freckled features as she rests her hand atop his. “Whatever we’ve got to do.” Isis looks back to him to make sure her words bear the proper weight. “Point us down a road.” Her bare hand comes up, hovering a moment before coming to rest on his stubbled cheek. “And we’ll make it.”
Her nails make a pleasant little scratchy sound over his beard as her fingers coil in against his cheek. The touch lingers as long as she might dare considering her misbehaved ability as of late. “I don’t expect we can stop it.” She has no illusions of grandeur or world-saving heroics. “But, it doesn’t mean we have to be puppets in it any more right? Espinoza. Kaylee. Hell, maybe even my ability thing can help.” She grins and then repeats calmly, serene. “Whatever we’ve got to do.”
Ash has been known to be a touch mercurial in the past it's true. Perhaps a result of what was done to Curtis's mind to create Ash in the first place? Or perhaps just a quirk of the mind that developed of that division. He doesn't speak while Isis is processing everything, just letting the moment ride as he sits there and he watches her. Which isn't to say his mind isn't working. It is. There's so many moving parts in everything that is going on. How does one throw a spanner in just the right spot to jam up those gears? So while Isis processes so does he, just very different things. His hand tightens on her knee just for a moment before moving back to hiw own leg.
His eyes watch her hand reach in with a flicker of amusement turning his easy smile into a smirk as she hesitates, then touches. The scritching over the short well kept beard draws a low rumble from his chest, like a big predator cat that's just choosing not to eat the scritching hand for the moment. "Oh you'd be surprised. I was just thinking about that. Where do you throw the spanner to hit just right to grind the gears to a halt. I can only think of one group equipped and skilled enough to handle what's happening. And I don't like it. But… I think we're going to need Wolfhound." There's a soft laugh from him at the irony of it.
"Your ability might be able to. Whatever your ability actually is now. But I think we're gonna need to drop in on an old friend. Curtis saw her not too long ago. But I haven't seen Kaylee since we ran with Adam. No clue if she'll help or not. Fuck me we're going to have to involve Richard." There's a heavy groan from Ash and his head flops backwards in a gesture of pure annoyance at the world.
Isis’s silhouette cuts like a smaller, paler shadow against Ash’s profile as she too tosses back her head and groans at the ceiling. “Kaylee, sure. Wolfhoud, if you insist. But, Richard?” She rooolllls her head to the side to consider Ash with raised brows. But, he’s serious. This. Is. Serious. So… “Fine, but let’s finish the pizza first.”