a very special spaceship holiday

[tactician]

Partaaay on the First!

Nowadays, it's mostly humans that celebrate the winter holidays this...festively, but luckily for all of you, the leader of Circle 7, the System's most notorious crime mega-conglomerate, is human. He insisted on the celebration on the First, too, said something about morale and good cheer and a shit ton of (most likely laced) alcohol. Something about holiday pranks, too, but that might've just been my imagination.

There's mistletoe hanging everywhere, the suspicious smell of Astorean Norther Fir in the air, jingling bells tied to every doorway, and is it just me, or does that big Santa have a glass eye?

It's gonna be a grand ol' time.

Comments

[aphelionix]

"Not in detail," Bentley answered, his brow becoming creased. "I... can't help but wonder if it's not a sore topic for him, considering..."

[tactician]

"The fingers?" Viana asked bluntly, coming to a stop as the song itself wound down and began to fade into another techno-like beat. The floor wasn't crowded by any means, which meant there was no rush to leave it, so she didn't. Instead, she crossed her arms and looked up at Bentley, mildly considering. "He probably would tell you if you asked him, which is a better idea than wimping out and getting the information through me."

[aphelionix]

"It's not like I meant to," he sighed, his arms dropping down to his sides. Bentley's hand had returned to the wrist of his metal prosthetic. "It's just... I don't know the circumstances, and... well. I don't like talking about my own... 'loss', so I kind of assume no one does unless they have to."

[tactician]

That didn't seem to stop Viana any.

She reached out and rapped the knuckles of one hand against Bentley's mechanical forearm. "What happened here, anyway?"

[aphelionix]

Wow. Really? Right out asking after he said that?

But, Bentley was surprised to find he wasn't bothered so much by her asking. It was simply the memories associated. He looked around, obviously looking discomforted by the fact that they were still in the middle of a dance floor, surrounded by people and loud music.

"I'm not sure this is... a good place to discuss that."

[tactician]

Well, they were on the topic anyway, and there probably wouldn't ever be a better segue than this. People never did well with secrets - Viana knew that from being in the field - and even the most tight-lipped of them never remained without the weight of a secret weighing heavily on them. People, by nature, liked to share, sometimes even a little too much.

"Fine," she said shortly, dragging the doctor off the floor as easily as she had dragged him onto it, returning them to the bench they had started out at.

[aphelionix]

Even the bench felt rather public, but in a way, it was probably one of the more private places on the Station. There was surveillance everywhere else, after all, but this was in a dim corner, and the loudness of the atmosphere would cover up anything they talked about.

It took a moment for him to find a place to begin, but he found it, speaking quieter but sitting closer to Viana than before to compensate.

"I was forced to work for Gladsheim," he started. "I mean, you already know that, I think, but... I wasn't the only one. There were other doctors, too. Good ones, recruited in. Not that 'no' was an answer they would've taken." Bentley's brow tightened, and his arm layered over the metal one. There was a heavy feeling in his chest as he spoke, and for a moment, he wasn't sure if he could continue; but he swallowed and moved on. "We were working on advanced prostheses for military use. I was trying to find a way out of there, tried to get the others to, but..."

He ran his right hand over his face. It made him feel sick. Bentley knew he bragged about his creations at times, but on those bad days - those lonely days - his arm disgusted him, and reminded him just how untrustworthy people could be. It had taken him this long to realize he had friends for a reason.

"I was punished for it. Of course they didn't want it on their hands. They had threatened the others into taking it away." As Bentley explained, a very unfamiliar emotion crossed his face. He almost looked angry. "And I still had to work. It forced me to make it for myself, and then they would've taken that too. So I did, and I used it to get away."

Bentley's shoulders sagged slowly as he exhaled, staring at the ground. He had been the whole time. As he finished talking, his expression eased, and he realized what a situation he was in right now. Cheery, upbeat Christmas music was playing, people were chatting happy and dancing, possibly drunk, and here he was ranting about something so serious. The irony hit him, and he chuckled somberly.

"That's what happened there."

[tactician]

Fingers settled lightly on Bentley's forearm, light enough that even if it had been made of skin instead of metal, he might not have registered it. Because it was metal, however, devoid of the infinitely intricate nerve system of the human composition, the only reason Bentley noticed it was because he was looking down at all.

Viana was still standing, but she had bent a little as to run her hand down the metal arm, quieter than she usually was, but thoughtful just the same. The story didn't surprise her because Gladsheim's reputation of cruelty and single-minded efficiency was infamous throughout the System, and because they all had their stories to tell, some more difficult than others. People with spotless records didn't just end up in the Circle like that, and even if they did, people who remained never got out spotless either.

"That's all right," she said softly, eyes running down the indented grooves of every plate of metal, every seamless solder-seam and screw. She withdrew and straightened, flicking Bentley on the forehead on her way up. Louder, she continued, "You're here now, so it's fine."

[aphelionix]

"Ow," he mumbled, raising a hand to his forehead, and his gaze up to Viana with it. There was the subtlest of smiles on his face, though, and an even subtler warmth to it. Part of him had still hurt, thinking about that event, his heart racing when he relived it, the panic swelling in his chest.

But now part of him felt better, too. That was new.

"Here's... a good place to be."

[tactician]

"That's right," she agreed, smirking as she put a hand on her hip. She jabbed a finger in front of his face. "So you better not talk about all that nonsense about being lonely and wanting to get out again, or I'll make you pay."

The finger flexed into a fist.

[aphelionix]

Bentley's eyebrows rose, and he laughed nervously - back to the normal, it seemed. "I-I plead insanity for my earlier statements."

[tactician]

"I don't have any problems with hitting the insane," Viana informed blithely, cracking her knuckles. Judging from the small smile on her face, borderline devious, the statement didn't seem to be far from the truth, if even that.

She stopped with her fingers still interlocked, looking down at Bentley, measuring. "Have you told anyone else that before?"

[aphelionix]

"Do you have problems hitting anyone?" he asked, but rhetorically and quietly, likely afraid to be hit for even asking. Viana's question caught Bentley a little off-guard, though, and he blinked up at her.

"I haven't."

[tactician]

Viana didn't look surprised, but she did seem considering as she absorbed that information, which was probably about the only thing that saved Bentley from being punched for that first statement.

Settling on the bench next to him, she kicked her feet a few centimeters above the ground as she leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over her stomach. "You should," she said definitively, drumming her fingers on the seat, her blunt nails making a dulled clicking sound as she did. "Why don't you?"

[aphelionix]

"Why would I?" he asked back. "It's... unpleasant."

[tactician]

"Because you have friends who would listen," said Viana, shrugging. She waved a hand at him. "And you seemed to be glad to be able to tell."

Well, she was her brother's sister, after all, and even if she didn't have reading people down to the art that Evan did, her gut feeling rarely proved her wrong.

[aphelionix]

She certainly was her brother's sister.

"A bit," he admitted with a nod, leaning back against the wall. "But it's still... difficult to think about."

[tactician]

She folded her fingers on her lap, legs still kicking. It took her a moment to answer.

"In my experience, even that gets easier the more you do it."

[aphelionix]

His head pivoted on the wall as he looked at Viana. "Does it?"

[tactician]

She nodded authoritatively. "From what I've seen."

"You should tell Evan," she added as an afterthought, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

[aphelionix]

Bentley was quiet a moment, before he slowly nodded.

"I think you're right," he said. "I'll... try."

[tactician]

A punch landed on Bentley's shoulder, hard enough to jostle the man and strong enough to hurt, even though it had been meant as a friendlier brand of contact. Viana smirked at him, looking approving. "That's more like it. That sort of sulking and shrewin' around was pissin' me off."

Because obviously it had been Bentley sulking.

[aphelionix]

"Ow," he whined, raising a hand to his shoulder. But if that was 'playful', then he decided it best not to mention that she had, indeed, just been sulking herself. But he was just as happy to see she wasn't anymore. "Also, I think I owe you a plate of desserts."

[tactician]

"That'd mean more if they weren't free for the taking," said Viana, raising an unimpressed brow at him. She hopped to her feet again, quick on the uptake and easily sprung into motion as always. "And I can get my own desserts, but if you want some, you can go get some too."

[aphelionix]

Bentley got to his feet too, still rubbing his arm.

"If you are," he said. "Otherwise, I better get back to the office. There's some files I still need to look over."