Day 022: To Hope Or To Assume
Summary: Morgan and Grey discuss the value of optimism or assuming the worst.
Date: 11 June 2016
Related: None directly.
Grey Morgan 

Beneath the Wall, The Camp
In sceneset
22 Days After Landing

Light duty sucks when you're as active and involved as Grey, but even he's willing to recognize that he's no good to anyone if he tears open the tender scabbing and building scar tissue at his side, or if he can't keep his eyes open. He actually managed to sleep in (going three days on a total of about eight hours of sleep will do that to a guy), get some breakfast, and slump himself down behind a (relatively) solid section of the wall. His Grounder-armor jacket lays alongside him, leaving him shirtless, and he has one of the precious assault rifles on his lap, instructing a small group of Delinquents, "And that's how you clear a jam." The slide racks back, a round pops out — the weapon he's carrying is loaded — and he catches it, only bumbling it once before he holds it up between his fingers, "Remember. Don't point the rifle at anyone you don't want dead, finger off the trigger unless you're shootin', get that butt into your shoulder, and aim low, just above the stomach. That's it. You've all got shit to do." And his 'class' starts to get up and move back toward the center of camp, one carrying the single unloaded rifle they were all practicing with.

Needless to say, it's been a busy few days. Hell, it's been a busy few weeks. But at least there weren't too many hurt in the attack and all but those with the very worst cases of the illness have recovered enough to be back to their normal selves. Which leaves a much smaller list of patients for the medics to split between them making Morgan a very happy boy and giving him time to check up on one of them. He waited till the 'students' start to disperse before he walks over to Grey, carrying a small cup that was hollowed out of a piece of wood. "How's it feeling?"

"Hurts. Pretty much all the time." Grey pauses, considering, and then adds, "Mostly just when I move. Or breathe. Or eat. Or cough. Coughing is the worst. Although I haven't sneezed yet." Popping out the rifle's magazine, Grey feeds the round back into it, then slips it home again. "I'm going to have a badass scar, yeah? Everyone always says that chicks dig scars." Shrugging a little with his left shoulder only, he goes on, "So. I heard Kai's version. How'd things go here?"

"Pretty bad, yeah." Morgan agrees, eyeing the injury. Kneeling down, he sets the cup to the side then puts his hand over one of the burns then the other, trying not to irritate the skin. "Doesn't look infected. Doesn't feel warmer than it should be. Doesn't seem to be swelling more than it should be. Think you got lucky." Glancing up at the question, he shrugs. "Not much to tell. I'd think Kai would have covered it all."

Grey shifts the rifle around so that Morgan can have easier access to his side, grimacing as he moves. "Good. And I got lucky, and Max did a good job." Leaning back against the wall again, he lets out a long, slow breath, "I wanna look at it from as many different angles as I can. Try to piece it together again. I mean, figure out what really happened. See if it'll happen again."

"We know it's going to happen again." Morgan points out. "The Grounders said as much. Wren. It's just a matter of time. We need to get as many supplies inside the walls as possible. Especially water. And if it were me, I'd kill you all on the way to get it. They just left, they didn't say they were going to leave us alone." In fact they said nothing. "How easily can you reach those burns without twisting?" Still, he shrugs. "What do you want to know?"

"Yeah, there'll be another attack. I mean if the attack will happen again like they said, archers from the trees and people running around on the ground. Because if that happens, we should ignore the people on the ground and shoot at the archers." He nods about the water worry, "We'll have to take some rifles out, go in force." At the question, he reaches across his body with his left hand, touching just alongside the entry wound, "That one's easy." He shifts the rifle around and winces as he brings his right hand down to the exit wound. He can… just barely reach it. "Not… easily." Settling back, he winces, "How many do you think there were? And how many people were shooting back?

Morgan nods at the demonstration. "You'll need to get someone to do this then." Reaching for the cup, he digs a finger in and starts lightly spreading a green paste thinly over the burns. "There's nothing medicinal in here. I just asked Cam to get some plants that aren't toxic. It'll help cool them off and keep them moist since we don't have any skin cream or shit. Burn scars can pull and harden up." He thinks about the question, eventually saying "About a dozen? Half archers? Far a I know, we were ignoring the ones on the ground. Which is how we lost part of the wall. So that was a bad idea."

"Great." Hissing as Morgan daubs the paste at his side, Grey does his best not to wriggle, "Ahh… that's cold." And then he frowns thoughtfully, "Or… uh… sharp… or… I don't know." He reaches down for the cup, taking a sniff and blinking, then shrugs, "Could be a whole lot worse." He nods slowly at the description of the fight, "Okay, so we need people watchin' the base of the wall, and people covering them. Damn it. We might need those bunkers outside anyhow. To keep people away from the base of the wall."

"No, it's normal temperature. It's just those burns are hot." Morgan corrects. "Since you're not bleeding, you can have willow tea for the pain. It'll help some. We also need a way to cut the ropes on the outside of the wall so they can't pull a section down again. They were almost in the camp." He gets some more of the paste and puts it on the exit wound this time. "They were stupid. We'd have won even if they did get inside because we outnumbered them. A lot. It would have been bad but we'd have won. Unless they're /really/ stupid, they won't come back with just a dozen people. We're fucked Grey. No matter how long we hold out, we're dead. It's just a question of how many of them can we take with us."

"…Without leanin' over the wall." Grey frowns thoughtfully, tilting his head back to look at the wall over his head, "Spears with swords on the end or somethin'. Hooks maybe?" He shakes the thought aside, his frown deepening, "Unless they weren't tryin' to take the camp?" His eyes narrow, "I mean, no one'd be dumb enough to think they could win out at four-to-one odds." Says the guy claiming twenty- or a hundred-to-one with rifles a week or two ago. Reaching down to still Morgan's hand, Grey sets his features, "But I don't want to hear that fatalistic shit, Morgan. Not from you, not from Adams, not from anyone. We're gonna survive this. We've got smart people workin' on our tricks, we've got rifles in the hands of professionals and really motivated amateurs. They're scared as shit of Mountain Men, ain't no reason we can't make them scared as shit of us too."

Morgan glances down at Grey's hand then over at him. "Said or not, it's still true, Grey." he says quietly. "Even if we win the next time. And the time after that, we're not at war with a village. It's all the Trikru. Minus the village, at least for now but how long is that going to last? We're going to run out of bullets. We're going to run out of hydrazine. Or blow ourselves up first playing with it without the equipment we need to do so safely. We have nowhere to run to since we're in the middle of their territory. We can't even count on the Ark since they stopped transmitting and you saw what happened to the dropship." He shrugs. "We're fucked. But that doesn't mean we should give up. We'll kill as many of them as we can and hold out as long as we can." His lips press together at the mention of the Mountain Men. "You heard the rumours about the radio? They're not rumours. It was definitely Mimi. I heard her."

Grey shakes his head, "Screw that. I'm not counting on the Ark, I'm not counting on Coesbur. I'm not counting on anyone that isn't in this camp right now. We're all we've got, we're all we need." It's a repeated line from right before the Rescue, but it hardens on Grey's tongue, his voice roughening. "The Ark couldn't kill us, Earth couldn't kill us, the Trikru ain't gonna kill us. We don't gotta worry about killin' more of them. We gotta worry about gettin' them to back the hell off." And then his brows knot together in confusion, "Radio?" And he groans, "What the hell'd Mimi do now?"

"You didn't hear?" It's not really a question and Morgan shrugs. "She broadcast asking the Mountain Men for help."

It takes a lot to shut Grey up. It really, really does. That, however, has Grey's mouth hanging open, leaving him blinking in shock. Finally, he manages, "What. The. Actual. Fuck?" He makes a searching, confused gesture with his right hand, "She… she heard about how they blow away entire villages if someone's got a gun, right? And we've got guns." Leaning his head back, the ex-C bangs it lightly against the inside of the wall, a slow, steady metronome beat. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Morgan just shrugs and sits down next to Grey, leaning back against the wall. "Yeah. If the Grounders are to be believed, they've destroyed entire villages full of innocent people just because one of them had a gun. And we've got a bunch of em. And she went and did it anyway. Know what? I'm not completely sure she was wrong." he admits. "Probably wrong. Certainly damn wrong to do it on her own. But maybe it would have gotten us out of this alive. But far as I know, they didn't answer so."

"I… trust…" Grey seems to be tasting the words as he speaks them, working through them, "…Gideon and Wren. I wouldn't wanna see 'em on a battlefield, and I know they've left out some things when they talked to me, just like I did with them, but I don't think they'd lie." He lets out a breath, his head resting back against the wall and his eyes closed, "And Que was real scared. Like, I don't think you can fake that kind of scared. But if it comes to that, I'd trade a death a little further away than one close by. But I don't think we're there yet." And the optimism of that statement seems to surprise Grey, causing him to tilt his head to one side curiously.

"I don't think they're lying either." Morgan agrees. "And the kinds of people who'd kill hundreds of innocent people like that? Not the kind of people I want to know. But if they save us, I'm not going to tell them no. And frankly, if it's the Grounders or us, there's just one choice no matter how much some of us like some of them."

"Well yeah. But it's C-Bur that's closest to the Mountain, from what I've been told. The one buncha Trikru who aren't tryin' to kill us right now. Don't get me wrong, if someone wanted to drop a missile on the army Indra's marchin' this way, I wouldn't cry, but I don't want people we got a ceasefire with to suffer for it." Opening his eyes, he notes, "That's actually how I wanted to use the rifles in the first place… get word to C-Bur to evacuate just in case, and then show off the rifles and say that if they wanted to attack, we'd make enough noise that the Mountain'd wipe them out. There's a word for that, a d-word, but I always forget the damned thing."

"Well, they don't know we have guns." Morgan points out. Not yet. "They obviously have tech. Maybe they just consider the Grounders savages and will think of us as more like them. But even if they know we have guns, why would they destroy the village? They'd send a missile here." So Gideon will be safe. Except she's here. Oops. "But like I said, far as I know, they didn't answer so we're on our own."

"Don't know how they target the missiles. Might have to be dialed in or somethin'." Grey chuckles ruefully, "I'm a grunt though, not a soldier. Hell if I know how they work." He taps one foot for a moment, "I… uh… wouldn't share that info with any Trikru workin' with us." He winces as he suggests that, "Or any other Trikru. We don't need to give 'em any more reason to hate or fear us." Blowing out a breath, he changes topics, "So. What're you gonna do to keep us all alive? I plan to talk to Cass and Asher, get the best description of this Sonia person I can. First time I see her, I'm puttin' a bullet through her skull, see if that doesn't buy us some time. Beyond that, just teachin', helpin' how I can with what others are doin' with…" he gestures to his side to indicate his own limitations.

"What I've been doing." Morgan answers. "Patch up people as they need it. And when I'm not doing that, give me a rifle and I'll shoot Grounders. If they get inside, I've got my sword. I just wish I had more time to practice. And more ammo. I never did get off a shot during the battle. The one I had in my sights disappeared into the trees before I could fire."

Grey grunts softly, "If we survive this, and if the rest of our people come down, you gonna shoot them, Morgan?" As he asks the question, Grey turns his head to study the other teen, his gaze tired and narrow-eyed.

Morgan rolls his eyes. "I've never wanted the people of the Ark dead, Grey. Cam's dad is one of them. You think I'd kill his father? Or Fi's parents? You don't fucking listen. Hell, if I wanted them all dead, I wouldn't have talked Jaha into staying Chancellor and coming down and just let them kill each other in the power struggle. Which they're doing anyway so I guess I wasted my time there."

Grey shakes his head, "I do listen, Morgan. I'm not talkin' about Cam's dad or Fi's parents. I'm talkin' about the Chancellor, the Council." His fingers tap against the receiver of the rifle across his knees, "I just wanna know if we're gonna have to worry about people tryin' to snipe our own if we manage to make it out of this and if they manage to get more dropships to come down without splashin' in."

Morgan is quiet a bit as he watches the dropship. "No promises about Kane." he says eventually. "But I know how to be patient till the time is right. And even if he were to come down tomorrow, the time is not right. We can't afford more chaos. Oxfor and the others already think we're undisciplined assholes. He's only half wrong."

Grey gestures wearily across to the teen sitting next to him with one hand, "And that's why I'm leery of givin' you a rifle. Because Kane's an asshole, but he's good at what he does. And we're gonna need that down here. Someone to organize and lead. Someone who knows how to fight a war." He's reaching if he really thinks Kane knows how to do that, "'Cause I damned sure don't know how to, and Adams ain't that far ahead of me there." Shaking his head, he grimaces, "But I guess at some point, that's all somethin' to worry about later. I know you ain't gonna shoot any of us, and I guess that's what matters for now."

Morgan snorts. "Yes, Kane's led lots of wars against people who take medicine to give to their dying wives and kids who paint pictures on walls." Shaking his head, he says "Making peace with the Grounders is the most important thing right now. If someone from the Ark can do that, if Kane can do that, then fine. I can wait." Sighing, he reaches up to run his hand over his hair. "So, you want to come live with us when this is over? I'm thinking a village of our own, away from those from the Ark, away from the Grounders. Taking the best of both, maybe being a go between. Cam likes the idea. Fi does. I think Quinn would. Probably a bunch of others and who knows how many Arkers who want to get away from it."

For once, Grey doesn't seem in the mood to argue. Sleep deprivation does that to you, or at least to him. Still, he chuckles dryly, "Morgan…" his left hand gestures out toward the chaos and fear of camp, "…these are my people, man. I'm not gonna leave 'em in the lurch." And then his hand gestures up, "And those people up there? They're Skaikru too. I ain't no Grounder, but I think the clan idea's a pretty damn good one. I'm not gonna leave any of them."

"After this is over, Grey." Morgan says. "After. But if you want to take Rawlins and his friends, you're welcome to them. I sure don't want them around me. And it's the whole clan us versus them thing that's causing all this." So says one of the ultimate us vs them people. And he should know.

Grey shakes his head, "Even if we stop Indra's people, we're still down here in the middle of everything. I'm not leavin' them alone. I'd even come after Rawlins if he was in trouble." Bringing up his left hand, he nibbles at a fingernail, "You sure you all can make it? I mean, even the Trikru don't live out on their own. C-Bur's what… a couple of hundred people? I don't even know if we're big enough to survive as it is."

Morgan shrugs. "Depends on how many people are interested. There's gotta be ones on the Ark who hate it there, hate the Council and what they do, and just don't speak up because they're afraid of being floated. Ones who'll want a fresh start on a new world. It would be perfect for you too. You think the Arkers are going to want a Grounder savage around? Or that the Grounders will want a Skaikru criminal? We can be the best of both, living together."

Grey chuckles suddenly, amusement bubbling up in his throat until he presses a hand to his side. Smothering his laughter with a grimace, he shakes his head, "Morgan, man… we're kids to most of those folks up there. They're not gonna follow any of us out to start some grand new life away from whatever comforts they bring down. I mean, not anyone but family." He does, however, grimace at the mention of having a Grounder around, looking down. He shifts in his seat, drawing in a breath and then letting it out, "Don't know what you meant." Yeah, he does. Clearly.

"You don't know that." Morgan points out. "You can't. Who knows what people up there want? Who knows how many family members might want to live that way? And they've got friends. Anyway, who cares. If you don't make plans, what the hell are you fighting for? That's what I want and that's what I'm going to work for, starting with killing as many Grounders as I have to till they stop trying to kill us." The denial makes him smirk. "The whole camp knows what I mean. It's cute. And there'll be others. I'm pretty sure Wren has a thing for Silver and would love to find out with her what tantric sex is. And the really good looking blonde one, Tuan, definitely has a thing for Fi."

"You think the average Arker's gonna wanna give up power, lights, vidscreens, the medbay equipment they bring dow, agro techs growin' for 'em, and Guard with rifles protectin' them and huntin' for them to follow some kids into the woods, hunting with spears, eatin' roots and berries, worryin' about infection, and cookin' over an open fire?" He shakes his head, then shrugs, "We weren't that loud." Clearing his throat after the mumble, he shifts his seat again, "Won't help anyone if people think of her as my girlfriend or whatever. She's more use to the camp as a teacher and advisor."

"How do you know no agrotechs or guards or doctors won't want to? And who's to say they'll be bringing all that down?" Morgan counters. "Grey, they can't even land a dropship. I'm not going to assume half of that list is going to be down here and working. And if it is, for how long till it breaks down? Sure, I want lots of tech too. It's great. But we need to learn to live the way the Grounders do. We need to be able to survive on our own. Then whatever tech we have is a bonus." The talk about Gideon just gets a smirk.

Grey sets aside the more difficult talk quite readily, focusing in on the talk of the future, "Because the Guards and the doctors at least are the ones who have great positions. They got no reason to leave, 'cause they've got everything they want, at least as best as they can get it." The mention of the dropship draws his attention off to the east, however, and he nods, "All of this… it doesn't mean nothin' if they can't land more dropships safely, obviously. And if they can't get down here, then we're definitely gonna have to learn to live like the Trikru. Hell, we'll probably have to join one of the clans. But if they come down, we'll be ale to find somewhere between how the Trikru live and how we lived. But only if we can work together. Not splinterin' up like mad."

Morgan shrugs. "We'll see. There'll be one who won't want to give up their privileges. And there'll be others who resent the first ones. Hell, Grey. Look at what's already happening up there. There's a civil war going on or at least a pretty damn good revolution. Otherwise they'd have gotten back in contact by now." He shakes his head. "There's going to be a lot of unhappy people. Who knows how it's going to turn out."

Grey answers the shrug with his own one-shouldered version, "Maybe we'll see, and maybe we'll never know what happened up here. I'll ask you the same thing I asked Cam though… just wait. Makin' plans to run off and play George of the Jungle?" He might be off on that reference, or even really off. "It's a splinter issue, and that's somethin' we really don't need right now. We need everyone on the same page, workin' together. That's the only way we're gonna get through this alive."

"I doubt anyone's planning to run off and do anything. We're going to wait and see, and talk to people, and make plans. And yes, recruit. We're not stupid Grey." Morgan says with a snort. "This is going to take planning to do right. But I'll tell you this. If when they get down here they think to rein everyone in at the point of a gun, I'll be taking aim right back at them till I can get the hell out with who and what I need."

Grey shakes his head, "Come on, man." His left hand gestures up to the wall they're leaning against, "You see what's out there. I'm beggin' you, don't start drivin' wedges between us. We all need to be on the same damned page, or we really are all gonna die. Guns get pointed at other Sky Crew," it's a little different, the words pronounced the English way, "you're gonna have a self-fulfillin' prophesy. And we can't afford that."

Morgan turns his head to look at Grey. "If the Guard comes down here and starts threatening to shoot people to stay in power? You think I'm the only one who's going to have a problem with that? I won't have to start a revolution. The Arkers will. If they have any balls and brains. Are you saying you wouldn't have a problem with that?"

Grey shakes his head, "Look around you, Morgan? You see any Guard threatening to shoot people to stay in power?" He pauses then, shrugs, admitting, "I mean, us ex-Cadets, I guess, since we're the closest thing we've got. But the Guard aren't all colossal dicks. They're gonna keep some influence because we're gonna need them, but they're not gonna start some sort of stupid-ass military dictatorship. Not even Adams' dad's stupid enough to try that." Not that Captain Adams is stupid in any way shape or form, but a Grey probably has a different view of the ramrod disciplinarian than most Arkers. "I told Cam this too… don't go lookin' for trouble. If someone else makes trouble, you deal with it. But you're like… actively looking for it, man."

"Again, you don't listen. How many times have I said wait and see since we started talking? You might not be as big an apologist as Faolan but you can't picture the Council and the Guards doing anything that would tarnish your image of them." Morgan points up at the sky. "The fighting started as soon as Jaha said he would be disbanding the Council. Do you think that's a coincidence? It was a Guard who convinced Mags to kill someone. Maybe it's Kane; Mags obviously had no idea who is behind it no matter what she said. Maybe it's not. But there people on the Ark probably killing each other to either stay in power or get in power. They might have sabotaged the dropship and killed hundreds. You think that can't happen down here? Seriously?"

Grey shakes his head, "Oh no. I know there are shitstains in the Guard. I saw 'em personally. And I know Kane's a jackhole. Total ass. But he's a useful one. He's good at what he does. And personally, I'd figure that if Mags was tryin' to throw Kane under the bus, he's pretty clearly not the one behind whatever-the-hell went on up there, no matter how much you want him to be." He idly reaches behind him, pulling out his knife from the back of his belt, and begins scratching at the plastic stock of the rifle, only looking up after a moment to say, "Sorry. Didn't mean nothin'. Just…" he nods down to the rifle, where he's starting to scratch an 'L' in the stock. Drawing in a breath and letting it out in a sigh, he notes, "I think it's possible that someone's stupid enough to try to take over when they get down here. I also think that if they do, we fight 'em. But you're not talkin' wait and see, no matter how many times you say it. You're sayin' 'plan' and 'recruit' and havin' guns to point back at them. That's not waitin', and that's not seein'. That's starting something, and that's bad news, man."

"If you were the guard who talked to Mags, would you tell her anything important?" Morgan points out. "That the dumb bitch picked Kane doesn't mean he's innocent. It just means she knows nothing." The gun and knife get a curious look. "What are you doing? And no, Grey. That's wait and see. But it's also being prepared. Because if you're not prepared when someone is pointing a gun at you, it's usually too late. But whether or not things go smoothly, I still want our own village. Not just to avoid the Arkers but to make something different. To live our own way. We'll still have ties to the Ark and to the Grounders. You said before you liked the idea of clans, right? Well, Trikru live all over the fucking place. So why can't the Skaikru?"

Morgan adds "Where a single missile can't take us all out at once."

'L' is easy enough to carve, just two neat straight lines. 'G' takes a little more work, but the plastic parts easily for the dropship-shard-knife, "Just… kinda how I show where I've been. So there's some memory of me bein' there that can't be erased." Or at least not easily. "As for spreadin' out? Because there's not enough of us. We're barely scrapin' by here with a hundred. I mean, if you want to run off with Cam and Q and Max and a few others, there's nothing I can do to stop you. But splitting the people we've got? Breakin' the Ark — if the rest of them can even make it down — that's just…" Grey sighs heavily, "Is this the part where we start bangin' our heads into the wall? Every time I talk to you or Cam, it always gets damn near shoutin', and it feels like I'm tryin' to talk to the dropship wall. I'm sure you feel the same way. And I'm just… I'm too tired for that, Morgan. I want our people alive."

Morgan eyes the rifle. "Oh, your initials. So you're claiming that gun as yours? I thought they were all to be put together and handed out as needed? Except for the ones belonging to the cadets? Different rules?" He turns back to look at the camp and the people in it. "There's two thousand people on the Ark. That's a lot more than in the village. You think if they came down here, all together, there'd be enough game and plants to feed them all? Or anywhere? Even if there wasn't a Trikru village nearby? Do you think they'll be bringing down enough machines to make enough of the crap we ate on the Ark till the farmer can find a place to plant that's large enough for two thousand people? All you're thinking about is everyone coming down and everything is one big happy family. It's not going to work that way not matter how hard you want it to."

Grey shrugs his shoulder, "I'll put the rifle back when I'm asleep, or when I'm away from camp on my own, just like anyone else, Morgan. Keep your pants on. Even if I was claimin' it as mine, don't you think it'd be a good idea to have rifles close at hand for the folks who actually know how to shoot? I bet I'm still a better shot while I'm wakin' up than most anyone else in camp." As he speaks, the ex-C keeps his attention down on his carving, "I think we don't know how many people, where, or what they'll have with them until they get down here… if they ever do. I'm doin' like I'm suggestin' everyone else does… waitin' and seein'."

"Wait and see." Morgan agrees. "You want to hope everything works out for the best? Whatever makes you happy and I have no problem at all with that. So long as you plan as if everything you want to have happen is going to end up in ruin. If everything works out? Fine, we wasted some time, effort and worry. If it all ends up in the shitter and we didn't plan for it? People are going to die. So if you want to keep people alive, Grey, assume it's all going to end up in ruin and plan accordingly."

Grey gestures around him, "Morgan, do you see any time, effort, or worry to spare? I'm puttin' everything I got into savin' the One Hundred. Have some hope man. I'm not sayin' that you should turn into some shiny happy optimist, but you don't always gotta think the worst of everyone around you." Finishing the 'G' on the stock of the rifle, he lets the knife dangle from his fingers, "You see those people out there? Right now they need hope. They need to think they can make it through this. That's all that's gonna keep them goin'."

"You just go from one thing to another, assuming whatever you want to assume. Do you see me telling them we're all going to die?" Morgan counters with a snort. "I'll do whatever I can to make sure that doesn't happen. It probably will but I'm not giving up and I hope Cole succeeds with his bombs. Just like you're making plans to make sure the worst doesn't happen. And if we do somehow get through this, I'm going to assume the worst about the Ark and hope you will as well so you can make plans in case the worst happens just like you're doing here. Hope for the best, assume the worst. When you start doing that regarding the Ark, we'll stop arguing." Pause. "As much."

Grey shakes his head sadly, then half-turns, tucking the knife back into the back of his belt, and then hauls himself up with the help of the wall, wincing as he does. "Assuming the worst out of people is a shitty way to live your life. Maybe you should start assumin' that people aren't all assholes, give 'em an actual chance."

"They have a chance. A chance to prove they can be trusted and aren't assholes." Morgan counters. "But when they have a history of it? When Grounders have attacked us once? I'm going to assume they'll be back and try to kill us. When at least one guard has convinced someone down here to kill a random person? I'm going to assume there's more than one guard and more than one person they talked to. And I'm going to assume that people who are in power, used to power, and want power are going to keep wanting it and try to keep it. Because that's what people do. If I'm wrong? Great. If you don't assume that and are wrong? Hope you can live with the result."

"If you think that there's more people down here just waitin' to kill people, you should be beggin' the ex-Cs to hold onto the rifles." Grey stops there, considers, "Unless you think that one of us is gonna go on a rampage. Then you're just kind of screwed." He gathers up his jacket, then straightens up a little more and adjusts the hang of the slung rifle to keep it away from the goop on his burns, "And yeah, I can handle trusting that people aren't total dicks. If they are, I'll do somethin' about it. But if you keep this up…" and then he stops, shaking his head in frustration, "But I've already said this. You aren't gonna listen to a thing I say. You know what, I'm gonna go twist some metal for caltrops, try to lift some spirits."

"Don't forget the cup." Morgan says as he stands. "Remember which one of us said, almost from the beginning, that we need to make peace with the village and who kept going on about killing them because they killed two of us. Have fun twisting. I should find Stone and make sure there's no infection."

Grey shrugs a little helplessly at the reminder about the Grounders, crouching down to pick up the cup too and lifting it a little in a sort of salute, "Thanks."

Morgan nods and walks away, looking around for Stone. "Come find me if it starts to hurt worse. Cause that's not good. And go get some willow tea for the pain."

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