[se] and it hurts me when I move my jaw

“[say]Oh, absolutely.[/say]” Sunjata rumbles, but there’s some amusement lingering within his tones. It doesn’t last, not when Zeph continues – speaking of proving things to those that weren’t here, when the Flood looks up and spies the exact man of iron he’d been trying to avoid. And he freezes, hands jolting slightly, heart thundering in his throat and pounding in his ears loud enough to drown out whatever Zeph says. And as he moves with the slight jolt, the needle goes right into his finger.

Hissing a curse in Korofi, Sunjata glances down to his hand and pulls the needle out of his finger, lifting his gaze to the space with narrowed accuracy to spy that it’s no longer there. Still, discomfort lingers in his gut, a bead of ruby blood appearing on his finger that has him clenching his jaw and sighing, moving to clean it off and tie it up with a bit of the left over fabric from his ludo doll. He realizes Zeph is leaned back looking at him now as his head tilts to try and recapture where he was in the conversation, leagues paler, far more uncomfortable even as he tries to fake it.

He leans forward as if he might be able to block Zeph’s view of him. “[say]I am.[/say]” He says with some amount of annoyance, a sharpness to his tongue not by the smuggler’s fault, but for the vision that’s disappeared far off in the sand. “[say]It’s also why I took the job.[/say]” To ensure those he watched over and those in his family were protected, with Sunjata having all the power to act if needed.

Well you didn't mean to upset him that much, damn. Kinda thought he had thicker skin, yet as you continue your mild berating the poor 'Biter seems to grow suddenly, deeply uncomfortable, enough to quietly stab himself in the finger. And yeah, you feel a little bad, but also? You're a little scared. You aren't joking when you say he's not weak, and he could definitely take you in any sort of combat.

The scar on your eye is testament to that.

[say]"Don' get yer panties in a wad,"[/say] you mutter under your breath, which is probably not a good way to keep him from beating your up. [say]"Look- whatever th'reason, yer Governor now. Here. In Torchline. An' yer right, we got somethin' of a shit track record for people wantin' th'job fer the wrong reasons, or holdin' it fer a minute an' gettin' bored."[/say] You shrug, but your eyes are bright and your body tense beneath the illusion of relaxation. [say]"So yeah, I'm wary. This place ain't yer old home, Sunjata. Th' people here ain't yer dad, or yer rebellion. Y'do us a disservice by tryin'a compare us t'people from another life."[/say]

Oh, but Zeph doesn’t know why Sunjata reacts the way he has. And the smuggler doubles down when Sunjata fights the torrent within him, misconstruing his tension as he wraps his finger. So when Zeph speaks, Sunjata’s gaze snaps to the smuggler, also misconstruing the man’s words in his rush. “[say]Don’t remind me that I don’t have a home.[/say]” He snaps, the frustration evident in the rumble of his voice, grabbing up the fabric and the rest of it.

“[say]I get enough of that Outlander bullshit.[/say]” This comes out a bit more like a muttering to himself. “[say]I am trying, Zeph. It’s all I can do when I get stolen from  my world and dropped here, leaving everything I know behind, leaving my sister behind with my shitty father.[/say]” Alright so maybe his combination of seeing his father’s figure and the words from Zeph had struck a nerve. “[say]Forgive me if I’m not exactly your idea of perfect.[/say]” Shoving the things he’d brought into the bag, tying it up and moving to stand.

[say]"That ain't what I said-"[/say] Gods, how'd he get it so fucking wrong? Literally the opposite of what you meant, and you feel yourself growing more and more frustrated as the unrecognized misunderstandings deepen. As far as you're concerned Jata tuned out the moment you tried to offer anything like criticism, which, why even have a council, then? And yeah, you feel bad (really bad) for him and the shit he's ben through, but at the end of the day he's made a choice to make a new home here.

Or so you thought.

You open and close your mouth a few times, frustration and guilt and general aggravation warring over your face as Jata turns his back. Fucking Flood of bullshittery, that's what this kid is. Fucking pain in your ass. And yet you can't think of anything to say to turn this mess around. Eventually you decide to keep quiet, clenching your jaw tight and running your hand through your salt-and-pepper curls. Between him and Sam your hair is gonna go stark white by the end of the year. Is this what it would have been like, had Ray become a teenager?

Maybe you dodged a bullet after all.

[fin!]