Day 005: Misplaced Anger
Summary: People deal with anger and fear in different ways, including shouting, shoving, and nearly punching their fellows.
Date: 5 May 2016
Related: Follows Weather to Take the High Road or the Low and Peace or Bloodshed.
Grey Hanne Zoe Faolan Cassandra Martin 

Grounds, The Camp

With the removal of underbrush and a half-dozen small trees, there is now a tiny clearing around the dropship. It has begun to fill with detritus from the ship, including all of the seating, padding, and removable plates or bulkheads. Several tents have been set up within the clearing, set close together within the confines of the surrounding trees. There are no defenses to speak of, save for the usually-open door to the dropship and the ship's metal walls.

The forest immediately surrounding the camp has been cowed into near-silence, but is still vibrant and green to a people used to stark metal bulkheads all around them.

5 Days After Landing

It is late in the day, and Grey went straight from the long, angry, weary, scared, hungry march to a short, angry, weary, frustrated lesson in self-defense with a half-dozen Delinquents. When you're angry and scared, and so are a lot of other people, you do what you can. Now he's back into the main camp, stabbing the butt of his one remaining spear down into the ground before his tent and then dropping down into a sprawl in front of it. He's sitting up again almost immediately, reaching for first his side and then his shoulder with a pained grimace. Shrugging out of his jacket causes him to hiss and grumble even more, and reveals that his shirt no longer has sleeves. Instead, the material is wound around his shoulder and his torso — although the latter is hidden by the remains of his shirt.

Hanne — in her quiet, soft, and almost sweet way — dematerializes just beside Grey. She is dressed in her usual many-pocketed pants and frayed waffle-knit shirt, but she has somehow managed to get an over-sized jacket that falls well to her knees and is very large in the shoulders. In fact, it looks like Hanne was given someone else's jacket — how sweet. She carefully reaches out to touch Grey's shoulder, trying to catch his attention.

Grey's mind is elsewhere, on bloody, chaotic thoughts, and so when Hanne touches his shoulder, his right hand snaps around behind him, reaching for the knife at the back of his belt, and his left reaches for her wrist, to pull her onto the blade. He stops, however, as both his shoulder screams at him and he recognizes the non-threatening presence. Letting out a sigh of relief and weariness alike, he slumps back down, "Keats. Hey."

Hanne almost falls backwards like a frightened puppy when Grey reacts to her innocent touch of greeting. She gasps sharply, her hands immediately flying up in a defensive gesture. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She looks downright startled, and then she relaxes a bit when he does. She nods gently. "Hey," she replies, sounding a touch uncertain. "I… uh… I came to check on you." Her cheeks flare pink. "You, uh… would you like me to look at your bandages?" There is something so cute and shy in those words.

With everyone on the border of panic, friends dead and kidnapped… the whole camp is likely pretty close to the edge. Emotionally speaking. Zoe though? She's traipsing through the camp with her bow slung over her shoulder and a cooked haunch of meat gripped in one fist, chewing on it casually as she walks. She stops every once in a while to give an encouraging word or two to a member of the camp. A perceptive type might notice that those she's talking to? They're only the ones without bracelets. She finds herself near Grey and Hanne though, looking the pair over. "That bad, huh?" She finally remarks, gesturing to Grey's injuries. "Damn."

Grey should probably be berating Hanne for forgetting her self-defense training and not lashing back at him. The fact that he doesn't take the opportunity to snipe at her probably says as much as the slump of his shoulders does. He studies the woman in the over-sized jacket for a long moment, and then slowly nods, painfully reaching up to pull his now-sleeveless shirt up over his head and set it aside. That reveals bloodied shirt-sleeve bandages at his left deltoid and the right side of his rib-cage. They're not thick, padded bandages, and they're barely spotted with blood on the outside, so perhaps his wounds aren't that bad. Looking over to Zoe as she approaches, he shakes his head in discouragement, "I'm better off than most of 'em. Rees and Perry are dead. Q and Devin and Morgan were hurt and captured. Ruth and Boner are missing. Lip and Martin are hurt too." Scorn twists his lips, "And Princess Tesla," yes, Fiona is back to the 'Princess' nickname now, "wants to talk to the jackholes."

Hanne drops down into a squat, drawing out some supplies from the extra large pockets of her jacket. She starts to tug at the thin bandages on his rib-cage so she can replace them with heavier bandages made from what looks like layers of old raggedy clothing and evergreen boughs. She looks up when Zoe comes near, and shrinks a little. She offers a small nod. Then she blinks at Grey's news of Fiona wanting to talk to them. "Talk to them? About what?"

"I'd like to talk to them too. But they aren't gonna listen unless we have our people back and prove we're not just sheep." Zoe says with a roll of her eyes and another chew chew chew on her meat. There's only some bone left, and Zoe takes out a broad leaf from a pocket and wraps it up before storing it away. Waste not, want not. "Hmmmm. Quinn and Devin are alright. I think Ruth is too. That Morgan guy… if we're lucky they'll keep him. We could use him as a distraction while we make our escape I guess." Zoe just inserts herself right in any rescue attempt, like she actually cares about people. She notices Hanne's reaction to her though, expression skeptical as she returns that nod.

Grey raises up his right arm to allow Hanne access to his side. He only shrinks away from her hands a little, and it's a subconscious sort of thing. "About peace. What else?" The scorn is still heavy on his words, and he shakes his head sharply. Surprising himself a little, he finds himself nodding along with Zoe's words, "Plus, I want blood. Two dead. They put an arrow throw Q's back and then this big jackhole held her up with a sword to her throat." Groaning a little, he shakes his head, "And Morgan and Devin kept rushin' them. Goddamn idiots. No one listened to a word I said." Granted, he didn't listen to the eminently sensible words Faolan said until it was too late, and that knowledge tinges his words with even more bitterness. "We're getting them all back. And we're going to kill some of those damned Grounders."

"Grounders?" Hanne smirks a bit. "Is that what we're calling them?" Then she sighs and continues to work at Grey's wounds, cleaning them with some fresh water she has in a parachute bag. She glances tentatively at Zoe, looking a bit uncertain. "Why do you want to talk to them?" She tilts her head a bit. "What could they… say? I mean, I've heard they don't even speak English… and are like half-man, half-animal anyway."

Zoe wrinkles her nose in distaste at Grey's words. "Right, killing. That's the best way to solve everything." Zoe shakes her head in disgust, looking like she'd spit if that wasn't a waste of saliva. "So we rescue Quinn and Ruth. We leave the others there and let the Grounders think they have something." She pats her bow, tugging on the string faintly. "I'll shoot them in the legs and I'll shoot them in the dick but I'm not going to help kill anyone if it can be avoided. If they've got two hostages left and some wounded they won't be as likely to chase us."

"That's what I'm callin' them." Grey apparently thinks that's a minor point, because he breezes right past, "I don't know what the hell they were jabbering at us, but it sure wasn't English. And they had helmets or masks or something with animal skulls on them. I got no idea what they look like under. Or if there is an under." Zoe's words turn his scornful scowl in her direction, "Look. When you're at war, you've gotta kill the other guy. And that's what this is. They declared war on us the moment they killed two of our own." His anger builds as he speaks, and he shifts in his seated sprawl, as if he were going to rise to his feet, "And we're bringing everyone home. And after that, we're going to get Rees and Perry and bury them with Grecco and Tides and Kellie. This isn't about any one of us anymore, Zoe, if it ever was. It's about all of us, so you can get on board, or you can float yourself."

"Hey… I like Devin!" Hanne looks momentarily fierce — or as fierce as a kitten can muster. "We shouldn't just leave the others because you don't like them, or think they aren't useful." There is a small heat of defiance in her words, and she looks like she is about to puff out her chest. Zoe intimidates her, there's no doubt about that, but she seems to have found something to rally against. Then she looks at Grey, and she blinks in surprise at him. Her jaw even slacks a bit. Maybe she had assumed the worst of him, too. She drops her gaze then, finishing up the rebandaging of the boy's ribs, looking cautiously at Zoe.

"You're not the boss of me. You're not the boss of anyone… or did you forget that already? You might have a monopoly on self righteous delusion, Grey, but you don't own us. You can't give us orders and you don't have to protect everyone. -You- are at war. -I- am trying to survive. -I- am trying to make sure enough of -you- survive that I can survive too." Zoe retorts plainly at Grey, deadpan and frowntacular. "I don't know much about war and I'm guessing you don't either, but I do know one thing. They were here first. And if strange, loud, hairless monkeys intruded on my territory I might shoot them too, just to be on the safe side. So no, my first reaction isn't to murder them. My first reaction isn't to save everyone." Zoe jams her hands into her pockets, shaking her head disappointedly. "My first reaction is to pick the strategy that fucks us over the least. Saving everyone and murdering all the Natives? That's some bullshit, Grey."

Once Hanne finishes with the first bandage, Grey pries himself up off the ground, rising to his full height, "No, I'm not the boss of everyone, but I'm getting damned tired of everyone being out for just themselves. I don't give a shit what you do with your bracelet or anyone else's." He waves his left arm, demonstrating that his own is still intact and in-place, "You might even get mine." He's very nearly shouting now, his hackles very up. "But we are not leaving our people behind. I promised them that I was coming back for them, and I'm gonna do it. Even if it's just me goin' alone." Which, of course, would be a recipe for laughable failure. "And picking a strategy that voluntarily gives up half our people? Fuck that." And he doesn't say 'fuck' all that often, especially compared to others in camp, "That's not a strategy, that's not even goddamned human. You want credit for helping? Come up with a strategy that gets all of them back into this camp in one piece. It's a good one, I'll salute and jump in line to help out. Until someone comes up with something better than what I've got, I'll go with my way, and I'll drag as many people as I can along with me."

"N-neither are you," Hanne stutters when Zoe proclaims Grey's lack of boss status. She frowns. "You like bossing p-people around too, Zoe. Y-you don't really c-care if we survive, as long as you do." She then sucks in a breath, and focuses on her pockets. Her hands dig deep, feeling the inside seam and lining nervously. She starts to shrink back, not feeling very up to much more confrontation. In fact, turning and fleeing looks to be about what she's ready to do.

"Right, it's not human to be willing to sacrifice crazy assholes who charge in suicidally and will probably just do it again later. No it's human to want to murder and kill because, shocker, our lives are worth more than the natives. They're mutants! They're subhumans! They wear feathers in their hair and live in teepees and have dark skin!" Zoe clenches her hands into fists, probably considering punching Grey. "Fuck you Grey. Fuck your guns and your rules and your manifest fucking destiny." She frowns at Hanne's retreating back, resisting the urge to sling an insult her way too.

Grey nods briefly at Hanne's words, but he's focused in on Zoe, "Yeah. Our lives are worth more than theirs, because we didn't attack people for no reason. I feel perfectly fine killin' someone who killed my friends, and who kidnapped others." He steps closer now to the smaller Delinquent, his voice lowering to dangerous levels, "But go ahead, tell me again how I'm the damned white man." Considering he's one of the darkest kids in camp, the words come out with a low, violent hiss.

"In this scenario? You. Are. The white man." Zoe hisses right back, not backing down from Grey in the slightest. She even squares her shoulders, expecting an attack. Probably counting on one. "Let's face it. You aren't gonna get -anyone- back without my help and you know it. I'm the best damn hunter and best damn tracker we've got. And I'm the only one with a weapon that doesn't require you to swing it at someone. So maybe, just maybe, instead of telling me how it is… you can convince me to help save those other two assholes. Maybe you can give me something to make letting those savages back into the camp worth my time." Zoe narrows her eyes, her voice still soft and hissy. Like a snake. "Or you could leave me behind. You could go save them by yourself and probably lose more kids in the process. And when you come back to camp, it won't just be 20 of us waiting for you. Maybe it will be 40. Maybe 50."

Grey shakes his head, bemusement filtering in under his anger, "You got a real high opinion of yourself for someone who's done exactly zero to help the camp, girl. And some serious delusions of grandeur. I don't have to convince you of shit. You've been worthless so far, Zoe. A waste of space, food, and water." Even if she's been getting the food for herself, and for others (at a price). "Do something for the camp, and then maybe I'll care what you think."

"I've provided more for the camp than you have. While you were busy screwing up a simple hiking trip to Mount Weather I gave the camp food and comfort. So what if I asked for bracelets in exchange? Would you rather I took them by force? I'm sorry, big guy, but I'm not you. I don't throw my weight around and make demands of people just to get them what they need to survive. You might as well call yourself Ground King Jaha the First." Zoe spits on the ground disgustedly, not backing up from the confrontation. She's standing so close to Grey face to face with the injured young man that it almost looks like they're about to make out or something. "So yeah. If you want me to do things your way? Pay me, bitch. Otherwise deal with the fact that you can't tell me what to do."

<FS3> Grey rolls Resolve: Good Success.

The fact that Grey is shirtless but for the bandages around his ribs and left shoulder probably doesn't help with the 'about the make out' image. At this point though, it would definitely be hate sex if it was going to be any sort. Her words draw the thunder back into his face, and he curls up his fists, his shoulders bunching as he gathers himself for an attack… that doesn't come. The anger is still there, but he lets out a breath in a hiss, shaking his head, "I don't know why the hell you're trying to piss me off, but I'm not going to hit you. I'm gonna save myself for saving Q and the others. You want to help, fine. You don't, fine. I'm just tired of your selfish-ass-shit, Zoe, and you just aren't worth the effort."

Faolan has been making rounds. He's not a great tracker, so going out and trying to figure out how the where and the how of the Grounders and their abductees hasn't felt like a great use of his time. Bullying (or persuading, whatever is more accurate/necessary) the lazy and the incompetent into assisting with creation of the wall that's been Cole's big baby ''is'' within his competency, though. As is keeping watch. He's always had a sharp eye. Now that sharp eye is trained outwards to the forest, to every shadow that might hold an archer. In his hand he holds his spear in a death grip, and there's a general dark glower about him. For a while there he'd been (mostly) almost happy, but now that's all changed. Gloom is back on the menu. Stomping his circuit is what brings him close to Zoe and Grey.

He grunts out a greeting. Squinting, he asks Grey: "How's the side?" It was the right move, he ''knows'' it was the right move, but there's still a sheen of shame over him for being the one who was shoving everybody to run and leave their people behind.

"I'm going to save them. And you're welcome to follow along if you like… that is. If you can keep up. You're just a busted up sack of meat." Zoe shakes her head, turning away pointedly from Grey with a roll of her eyes as she adjusts the bow slung over her shoulder. "Odds are, you're gonna have to stay behind and watch the camp though. Nobody's gonna want to have to carry you -and- the injured. So if you want the rescue to go a certain way… maybe you should rethink my offer. For now though? I've got some hunting to do. Some of us are doing what we can to keep this place running instead of sitting around moping about how bad we've fucked up. Come find me when you're ready to swallow your pride and work together for the greater good." Then she starts walking away, a hand pulling a piece of bone from her pocket to pick at her teeth, ensuring she's left no little bits of meat there. At least someone in this place is well fed. She frowns deliberately at Faolan as she walks past. He didn't greet her, so she doesn't greet him! Grumbly teens all around.

The parting shots from Zoe curl Grey's fingers up again, and he has to clench his jaw hard enough to cause the ache to travel from his teeth up into his sinuses. But he manages not to leap after her and try to tear her head off. It takes a couple of shuddery breaths, and then he looks over to Faolan, "Not as bad as my ass. Serious pain there. We almost went down to ninety-two just now." The anger still bubbles under his voice, even as he does his best to bleed it out, "Shoulder's worse than my side. Side just stings. You seen Lip or Martin yet? I keep meaning to check on them, but haven't had a chance."

Faolan blinks in confusion at Zoe's frown. He scratches his cheek. "You okay, Zoe?" He asks her, as if there's no reason why she wouldn't be. "Your ankle looks good, anyway. Shit, you know who got all the delinquents to take off their bracelets? I want to beat that asshole. There's damn.. I don't know, mutant half-humans," which is what they'd looked like, "out there. Idiots! We need them to come down more than ever, not think we're all dead or something. Hm. You good with that bow? We could use an archer." And he means to put his hand on Zoe's shoulder like they're best friends. They bonded, right?

"I saw Martin. He wasn't too good. We need our wall. We need the Ark. Rifles, man, rifles and we'd ''butcher'' them. They're savages." His voice? All hate and contempt. "At least now everybody'll get behind things, no longer everybody out for themselves. The mutant freaks are out there and we have to stand together."

Zoe's reply to Faolan? She flips him off over her shoulder. The other hand? With the animal bone in it? She pokes the hand on her shoulder with it. "I did it. I took the bracelets. And you know what? I'm going to get the rest of them. Every. Last. One." And then she's walking away. Leaving no time for discussion as she heads into the woods.

Grey snorts at Faolan's words, "The fuck we will. Zoe was just sayin' how we shouldn't be fighting them." He blinks at the young woman's 'admission,' then just gestures toward her to further answer Faolan's query, "Some people are never gonna get with the program, Faolan. She's one of 'em." Slowly lowering himself down to the ground outside his tent again, alongside where his single remaining spear is stuck in the ground, Grey looks up at Faolan, gesturing an invitation for him to sit down too, "Yeah, we do need the wall, but it wouldn't have changed shit if we had it before. What we need to do is get our people back. And that's gonna take an attack."

Faolan frowns at Zoe's back, as if he is experiencing some sort of personal betrayal ontop of everything else. They'd share berries times together! He rubs his hand against his jawline, face a hard confused frown. "We can't afford her to get her hands on all the bracelets," he says slowly. "And we're not just letting them keep our people. What she gonna do, talk to them? They didn't wanna talk. They shot us without warning, they were playing with us. They're psychopaths. If those deers could have two heads, why wouldn't they have changed, too? They might not even be human anymore. And if they are, then fuck them, they still deserve to die." He draws in a shuddering breath. "We need a good tracker. Evie, perhaps?"

Grey shakes his head, "No, Fiona wants to talk to them. Zoe wants to sneak in, rescue Q and Ruth and leave Devin and Morgan to the Grounders. And she was calling me all sorts of names for wanting to oppress the natives." He really can't believe what he's repeating, if his expression and tone have anything to do with it. "She's bug-fucking-nuttier than Morgan." Which is saying something, coming from Grey, based on his previously-stated opinions. "And yeah, Evie'd be good. Keats too. Uhhh… didn't Boner get in trouble for screwing that Earth Studies teacher? Maybe her?"

"Fiona.. I like her." Faolan says it half distractedly. "She's got a good heart. But.. but there's a time and a place for her ideas. I thought they were now, but no. No. Not when there's those Grounders out there killing our people." He grinds his teeth. A look over his shadow tracks the direction Zoe had gone. "Dropship works as good as any box." The guard shining through. "Don't gotta float her, but.. Just until shit calms down perhaps some time for self.. reflection." He turns to look at Grey, nodding. "Yeah, any of those'd work. And this everybody do their own thing? I wasn't gonna do nothing about it while we had a whole planet to play around in. But things have changed, I think. Its like the Ark again, just no room for lay-abouts."

Grey looks up to the dropship, apparently considering it, "I dunno, man. Bein' a Guard, I'm okay with the protecting people part, but we've all been in the Box. I don't know that puttin' people in another Box is really a thing we should be doing." One hand comes up to his mouth, and he nibbles at his thumbnail, "Why any one? I say we bring 'em all, unless some don't want to come. I think we need just about everyone who wants to fight or track with us, except a few people to defend the camp."

"Can't have Fiona running around, trying to negotiate, or Zoe running around, trying to sneak in, all the while we're trying to mount an attack. It'll be a mess." Faolan rolls his broad shoulder in a helpless shrug. "It's not like I ''want'' to, but unless they're with us, we gotta control what they're doing. Or they might risk us as well as their own lives. Best would be if they just came with us, more bodies. But it ain't like we forced them to be difficult, is it?" He does nod in agreement with bringing everybody can along, though.

It's late afternoon on the fifth day after landing, a couple of hours after the Mount Weather expedition straggled back into camp. Grey is sitting in front of his tent, his shirt off to reveal the bandages around his left shoulder and around his ribs. Looking up to Faolan, he shakes his head, "I haven't seen anything to suggest we're gonna get surprise on them no matter what we do. I figure, we get their attention with a big group, start a fight, then send another group in to do the rescuing. Then everyone runs back here, and we use whatever defenses Cole and the rest of the folks have managed to gather up to hold them off."

"I don't know. They can't be all seeing, everywhere," Faolan says, frowning. "Now that we know what we're looking for, it wont be as easy to take us unaware." Or perhaps that's just wishful thinking. "Plus, you saw what happened at the river. Think about what'll happen if they grab more hostages? They'll just hold a knife at Fiona's throat and that'll be the end of it."

After showing her shameful face upon the expedition's arrival and being scared by the prospect of more Grounders having followed them, Cassandra was last seen muttering to herself about yarrow and aloe as she headed back out into the trees, confident (perhaps overly so) in her ability to survive on her own. She did, after all, manage to find her way back to camp without the rest of the group. She now returns, as promised, with what looks to be a bunch of flowers: not very pretty flowers — small ones; a bunch of yellow ones and a bunch of white ones, which some may discern as yarrow and goldenrod. She approaches all confidence and bluster, her brief moment of implied remorse having passed. "I want to help find Morgan," she says to the ex-Cadets who haven't been snatched, raising her gaze to meet Grey's and Faolan's in turn, without regard for having butted into their conversation. There's a beat. "And the others," she adds out of obligation. "You'll need a tracker. I can handle myself in the forest. And I'm not afraid of the natives." She claims this in spite of having run scared upon first meeting them.

Grey grimaces, "We walked right under 'em, Faolan. Right under them." At least, that's how he remembers it. Whether they actually did or not is up for debate. "Not if there are more idiots like Morgan around, charging in despite the fact that those jackholes had Q and Devin hostage. I don't know that we can control these assholes from doing stupid things, Faolan." Cassandra's arrival causes him to get to his feet quickly, surprise flaring over his face, "Cassandra. Shit, I thought you were a goner too. Did Ruth make it back too?"

"And why'd we look up anyway?" Faolan shoots back, frowning. "We gotta use their arrogance against them. They think they're better than us, that much was clear from how they handled themselves. We gotta just find a way to exploit that. I don't know how just yet.. but we'll find a way." He turns towards Casandra when she shows up, blinking, lifting up a hand in greeting. He saw her earlier so he's not sharing Grey's shock. "Sure," he agrees. Then a hardening of his voice: "If you don't just run away." Is he judging? He's judging.

A shake of her head is the only response Cassandra offers Grey. Faolan gets a glare. Oh, she's earned that judgement, but just like back on the Ark, that doesn't mean she's going to take it. "Here's a thought: maybe just treat them like people?" There's something sharp in her tone as she regards the blue-eyed teen.

Grey accepts the silent response from Cassandra, but her input on the Grounder situation causes him to blink at her in shock again, "The hell? They killed Rees and Perry. They shot Q in the back, tried to turn all of us into pincushions, and took a bunch of us hostage. Why the hell should we treat them like anything but the enemy? I just don't get why everyone wants to be all lovey-dovey with the people who just attacked us."

"Because they're not people," Faolan snipes back at Cassandra, echoing Grey's sentiment. Its the hate-wagon. "They're savages. Probably hardly even human anymore, grunting like animals." Because what kind of language was that, anyway? "So we kill them like animals." He looks away, frowning, his eyes full of the memories of the ambush. He clutches his spear tight enough to bleech his hand of all color.

"You're a fucking savage!" Cassandra shouts right back at Faolan. "You, both of you?" She stabs her fingers in the air, pointing at the ex-Cadets. "You both killed people. And you got people arrested to be killed. That's everyone on the Ark. You're all fucking savages. And me? I'm a savage too, difference is, I know it." She takes in a deep breath to school herself, but her cheeks are still red, and her dark eyes burn. "Those wolf skulls we found along the riverside? Those were territory markers. Animals have them and so do Go-Sci techs. You try sneaking a peak at Cole's laptop and see how he reacts. You want Morgan and the others back, you're going to have to play by their rules. On their turf. That's called being fucking smart." She shoots Grey a look. "Not 'lovey-dovey'."

Grey turns a tight smile to Cassandra, "Yeah. I'm a real savage. Only difference is, the person I killed deserved it. She'd had her warnings." He points off to the west, "Rees and Perry? Q? None of them did anything to deserve it. And Cole? I bet you anything, if I grabbed the laptop from Cole, he'd tell me to back the hell off, to give it back. He wouldn't try to kill me. I say, we make them play by our rules. And as far as I'm concerned, our rules are, you push me, I push you back harder. But you can keep arguin' this shit 'till the next Apocalypse. I'm goin' back to trainin' people to defend themselves."

"It was an accident, a fucking accident!" Faolan growls defensively at Cassandra, his hackles up when it comes to the reason that got him Skyboxed and ready to be floated. "And yeah, I deserved to be floated for it. BUT I NEVER DID ANYTHING LIKE THAT!" Roaring, all of a sudden, and are his hands moving to push Cassandra? Yes they are. "Go float yourself. They killed without warning, they enjoyed it. You can't talk to people like that. You can't negotiate. You can't come to some kind of understanding. THEY DON'T WANT AN UNDERSTANDING! Unless we make them fear us, they'll only come back for more."

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Faolan=melee Vs Cassandra=dodge
< Faolan: Good Success Cassandra: Failure
< Net Result: Faolan wins - Solid Victory

It's not a proud moment for Cassandra to land on her backside. That seems to be happening to her a lot lately, in various physical and metaphorical forms. The height difference this puts her at between the ex-Cadets has her looking up at Faolan with surprise enough to evaporate her temper, and the flowers in her hand scatter to the ground. "So you think…" She pauses. "That the people down here on the ground attacked us without any reason, threatened Quinn with a knife to her throat, and took people with them just for the fun of it?" An eyebrow gets raised at the man with her palms still steadying her behind her, questioning, Do you really think that? "Sure thing, Blue-eyes. I'm still coming to find Morgan. You'll need me, one way or the other."

Grey whirls around back, "Hey! Faolan, knock it the hell off!" He's not coming back, though, just looking over his shoulder to snap. Shaking his head, he turns back to walk the rest of the way off.

The roaring storm clouds clear from Faolan's blue eyes when he blinks and sees Cassandra down on her ass in front of him, and Grey calling him out. It is obvious he takes no pride in having shoved her, no satisfaction or preening sense of sudden superiority. He just looks abruptly embarrassed, ashamed even. Guilty. He avoids her gaze, then, and mutters a quiet: "Sorry." Still without looking at her he offers the girl his hand, his broad shoulders lowered, the whole of him deflated. "I don't know whey did it. Because they could, I guess. Because we were easy pickings, weak, perhaps on their turf. But it ain't no excuse. Nothing excuses it."

"My knight in shining armour," Cassandra murmurs in retort to Grey's chiding of Faolan, with a roll of her eyes and enough sarcasm dripping through her teeth to defeat a British armada — in an era where human nuclear innovations hadn't already done that for us. She accepts that hand and hauls herself up with its aid, clutching her gathering of yarrow and goldenrod in her left. "Next time just buy me dinner first, yeah?" Apparently she's not offended; she's milking Faolan's guilt for all it's worth, quirking her brows and, once free of his hand, using it as an excuse to return the favour with a firm prod to his chest. "Nothing excuses anything anyone does. Your best bet is to roll with the punches. You could get more people killed, or…" She shrugs. That's all she has to say.

"What?" Faolan asks, a couple of quick confused expressions transitioning from one to the other at her dinner remark. He has utterly self-disarmed, and as such is about as challenging to poke at as a baby. Which is not to say that be budges from her retaliatory shove. He does not. He is a firm unyielding wall. "I still don't think dealing with them is a good idea. If they wanted to deal with us, they could've. No. We war, we get our people back, and that's that. They made the first move."

Cassandra demonstrates how one might roll with the punches by being visibly unbothered by Faolan's confusion. Maybe she likes awkward, maybe she's just trying to confuse him further. And as he's a firm, unyielding wall who's just helped her to her feet, she remains in close proximity. "You don't think taking hostages and yelling threats is dealing with us? Because I sure do," she asserts, tone still flirtatious — she's laying it on thick. "Let's play it your way though. So we go in, guns blazing…" A pause, a purse of her lips, and she tilts her head to the side before recuperating. "Spears blazing… And then what? Walk me through the tactics, Cadet."

"I was only trained to lead raids against stations and habitats," Faolan mutters. "Wasn't ever this much space in the Ark, wasn't a question of surprise or hiding or.." He blinks, frowning, then rolls his shoulders in a helpless shrug. Apparently the close proximity of her isn't all that comfortable; it makes him aware of just how much he hasn't bathed anytime recently, how his t-shirt is bloodied, his pants the same and covered in earth and lichen stains to boot. Only his jacket is in a reasonable state. He takes a step backwards. "I don't know. Depends on where they are. Track them first, find our where they're held, then we can make a plan on attack that takes in terrain.. numbers. Right now we don't know anything." Why does admitting ignorance feel so shitty? It just does. For a moment he regrets not just pretending like he knows everything and blowing her off.

Martin exits the dropship with some bandaging around him and his bloodstained shirt across his shoulder. As he makes his way through the camp, he comes across Faolan and Cassandra talking. Pausing for a moment, he smirks at what he hears and begins chuckling quietly to himself. Deciding not to be a creepy observer, he greets them, "Good evening."

When Faolan takes a step back, Cass leans comfortably to the side. "Right," she replies. His confession to ignorance has her smiling like a Cheshire Cat. "So I guess that's all stuff I can help you with, right? You and Grey can sharpen your spears. But I don't think you'll be needing them, or that you'll come out on top if you do." Cool and collected is her voice, until Martin shows up. She raises up the bunch of small, not particularly attractive, yellow and white flowers for him to see. "Got you these. For blood-clotting."

Martin eyes the flowers that Cassandra offers for a moment, before recognition comes to him, "Oh hey! Yeah, that will work nice. There might even be enough here to help out Lip and the others." He holds out his hand to collect the plants, smiling at Cassandra, "Thanks, Cass. I guess you're not so bad after all." He gives her a teasing wink, before looking to Faolan. "Is she giving you trouble, Faolan? She is good at that. You have to keep on your toes around her."

"I think we will." It's a stubborn phrase, spoken with a will. Faolan takes another step back when Cassandra starts turning her attentions towards Martin. "No. No problems. I think I can handle myself." He rakes his hand through his cropped hair as he says it. It was a mess before, combing it with his dirty hand doesn't make it better. "Anyway, I got things to do. If you can look for tracks, Cassandra, do it. It'd be great to have an idea of directions before we actually set out as a group. Uh. And feel better, Martin." That said, he starts to walk away.

Cassandra tilts her head at Martin's assessment that she's not so bad, part in consideration, and soon turning to a deflective tease in return. "Spoil my fun, why don't you?" she chastises as Faolan walks away. Stepping in, she hands off the flowers and mentions, "Ask Evie or Hanne — they'll know what to do with it." And with that, she turns away and stalks off again towards the forest, after exchanging a few words with some other delinquents.

"I would have thought you would prefer more challenging prey to have fun with," Martin offers in return. "Anyways, I am sure you can find some other easy target to strike." He takes the flowers and watches her go for a moment before heading off to find some medics.

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