Braiding The Sling


huruma3_icon.gif ryans2_icon.gif

Scene Title Braiding The Sling
Synopsis Huruma and Ryans browse the armory and decompress after the flight in.
Date October 12, 2010

Abandoned Warehouse; Xichang, China

Stepping into the armory, Benjamin Ryans stops at the door only briefly to look over the offerings, lips pressed into a thin line. After a moment, he lets out a soft sigh and moves in deeper, shrugging off his duster to drape it over an old card table that's been left standing. As he eyes the guns, the fedora joins the coat and fingers comb through his hair. "It's going to be a stretch," he murmurs.

Stepping over to a rack of AK's, he picks one up and starts to inspect it, brows furrowed expecting the worst of what they were given. They say don't look a gift horse in it's mouth, but when faced with going up against a government's military, you damn well know Ryans is going to check.

The bolt is pulled back with a familiar chak sound. "While we were in flight. I got a message from Noah, via Rebel." Ryans doesn't have to look her way, to know that Huruma was there.

Not to mention she was set to race him in there, it's no wonder he assumes she's nearby. She takes somewhat longer to inspect the small armory, eyes drawing around over old boxes in corners and a couple of ratty covers thrown over other debris. Stayed in worse places than this warehouse-

"I'ave had lesser arms…" Huruma mutters, to begin with, prying off her own jacket and preferring the slight draft to the uncomfortable warmth. The coat gets tossed over one of the boxes, and for the moment she watches Benjamin starting to fiddle with one of the guns, head tilting when he speaks to her. "What did it say?"

"Lucille was in Ferry hands." The spring loaded bolt is released the sound of it slamming back into place, echos in the room. Ryans' head turns a little to glance the dark shape of the woman. "She's safe now, at least." He ejects the magazine looking at it, frowning. "One less thing I'll have to worry about while we're doing this."

Slapping the empty length of metal into the weapon again, he finally turns his gaze to Huruma. "And with hope Delia will explain the situation, though I think I'll be getting yelled at by my oldest, if I make it back." There is that word again 'if'. Benjamin has been using it an awful lot.

She had best start checking things too, while she's here. Huruma takes up a second AK from the store given to them, starting her own, mirrored inspection. If these two have anything truly in common, perhaps, unfortunately, it is war.

"So she is home." She looks askance to him, and then between the two guns. She turns her head around to examine the other ones, and the various pistols left. There is an old, threadbare canvas draped over another bundle of things in the corner- ammo, from the looks of it. "When you do." Her jaw grinds a little, perhaps for several reasons.

"Delia can manage words, but it will be up t'both of them t'understand."

"I think Delia does." The old man rumbles as he picks up another AK-47 and turning it one way and then the other in his hand. "Not completely, but I think she understands enough." He trails off the barrel of the rifle dips down to the ground.

"She told me that Hiro Nakamura visited her." Ben doesn't sound awfully happy about that. "Said she needed to go back into time into the middle of the Vietnam war for something." The ex-agent may not look it now, but he knows that war intimately. There is no hiding that haunted look, the look that says he's seen so much. "I — couldn't stop her."

He's here, of course.

The rifle is replaces and he goes searching through the armor given to them. Ryans pauses and sighs softly. "I'm having to rely on that boy she's seeing." The words are fierce and growled, he doesn't like it. It's not that he doesn't like Jaiden to some degree, but it is his little girl after all.

Huruma knows Hiro as well as anyone else might. A little more because she helped Adam kill Kaito- but that is neither here nor there. She peers up when Ben mentions the name, mildly suspicious at first, until he gets further along. At this progression, however, she is rather quick in narrowing her eyes and tightening her lips. Though Ben hasn't shared particularly intimate details of his life with her, she has the feeling that he may have something to do with it. His age, paired with his Company career- they recruited people somewhere, didn't they?

Huruma occupies herself with finishing checkwork on the guns, laughing when he mentions Jaiden.

"I think he is a nice boy. Respectful." His growl is alternated by her smoothness. "People are made t'move on. Children included."

There is a shake of his head, even as Ryans busy himself pawing through the chest armor. Each kevlar vest checked by the old man. "Delia is not prepared for war. You know it and I know it. Even her ability is of no use there." He points out, a matter of fact look sent her way. "However, I can not be two places at once."

With a soft huff of frustration, Ryans drops the vest he's currently holding. Hand fall to his hips and rest there as he looks over the room. "I could use a drink," he says gruffly, a rueful look sent Huruma's direction. He knows it's not a good idea in the face of an important mission, but doesn't stop him from wanting it.

"I know. If Nakamura takes her, however, I am sure tha'he has a plan… someone t'be with her. He never fails to send back-up." And despite any unknown shortcomings, she knows he tends to be reliable above most else. Her eyes follow the vest down to the floor, and she is quite gentle in placing the weapon in her hands back with its fellows. His rueful look to her is given a knowing one in return; she knows the feeling all too well, has welcomed it in similar times, when she was able.

"I know." Huruma says after her short pause, looking back to her hands as she turns to locate bullets for a secondary pistol to keep on her, in addition to the first and the usual trustworthy bowie. "So do I, I think." Not just because of her dry mouth. "We've until later- I am sure we could something in this town, if you cared t'leave th'warehouse." But neither of them exactly blend in- it would need to be a very sneaky trip, provided it happened.

For a long moment, the old man seems to seriously consider it, but then finally he sighs. "No." His voice gravelly, a hand lifting to rub fingers and thumbs over tired eyes. "It is probably not the best idea," he admits reluctantly. "I should stick around here, at least til Alia is done building that thing."

Hand dropping to perch on his hip again, he lets loose a long sigh. "I want to be here when it's done, so I can see how it operates." Brows tip down into a thoughtful look, eyes dropping away to stare at a point on the floor. "Also not fully sure I trust a bit of technology built by an unknown." Not that he wants to see Linus put in that position.

Huruma simply nods along, finally going over to investigate what is under another one of the thin canvasses. "You woul'prefer t'leave Agron as innocent as you can? I could go, bring y'something back, though- it canno'b'terribly hard- but if you'ave changed your mind on needing a drink al-"

Huruma stops mid-sentence, which really- she never does. She'd wandered around the canvas a moment before, lifting the edge to look underneath and sparing Ben any immediate sight of what is there. Her mouth closes and her eyes narrow under the shadow of the fabric. She won't stop him from looking too, but there is definitely a look of apprehension.

"This one's mine. I wonder if I should lick it so tha'people know…"

"I haven't changed my mind." He feels the need to point out, there is a 'but' in there however. Ryans turns to watch her. Her interest in the covered weapon grabs his, eyes moving to the tarp a brow arching upward.

Curious he moves to close the distance between him and the tall dark woman, leaning past her to grab the edge of the cloth to flick it back enough to see what is under it. Looking it over, both brows lift just a tick. "Impressive."

"I suppose that is one way to do it…" Huruma murmurs, looking over to Ben when he nears, and back under the canvas. "…Are those frag rounds for that barrel?" She lets out a puff of air before letting go of the fabric of the corner she grabbed, letting it fall loose to where it was. "Looks like ground team is going to have a better time than I expected. I'll need t'congratulate Bennet on his armory man." Whatever it is, Huruma's faith in being led into this mess has grown a little.

"So-" The dark woman tilts her face to look just past her shoulder to him. "You want t'see what she's working on- I don'ave t'do th'same." Did he want that drink, then? "It won't be good old Irish whiskey, but…"

"I think I might go check on Alia." Ryans says with a slow nod of his head, taking a step back from the weapon and the woman hovering over it. There is a glance at the door, before he moves to scoop up his jacket and fedora. He glances back at Huruma, there is nothing to read on his face and even his emotions seem to be flatlined. "Then I may go check out the sleeping arrangements." The fedora is settled on his head and pushed into place. "I barely got any rest on the flight."

If she ventures out, she'll make a point of trying to bring something back. A frazzle-straightener, really. Huruma looks after him, something vague in her own expression that seems to flatten it similarly- but then there is something about it that comes off as artificial at the same time. Like she is doing her best to make sure to look uninfluenced. Usually she is so skilled at it.

"Good luck wit'that. You need it more than I do…" Huruma practically trails off, lips pursing again as she moves to rifle through the body armor and find one that looks reasonably comfortable. She needs the sleep as much as he does, truthfully, but she isn't about to tail him everywhere. Not yet, anyway.

"I'll see you at th'brief."

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