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[This day had to come eventually, didn't it? Just another one of those damn Blood Gulch Sim Troops arriving here to crash the party, and predictability a little late like always. But hey, it wasn't like he hadn't been busy saving a planet or being blissfully retired or anything equally as important. Nope.

The video shifted a little as Tucker tried to set it upright, but it soon found itself quickly propped at an angle that said this wasn't his first time recording himself; the purpose of such skills would be left up to the viewer to guess at their own discretion. But hey, have Tucker with that beautiful aqua colored armor looking right back at you, even as he sat back down and tried to appear relaxed, cool, okay with ...well, all this. All this.

Ladies in hot tight superhero outfits definitely helped.]

So, yeah, Tucker here. [It felt like an interview with Dylan. Good thing talking about himself was one of his favorite things to do.] Please try to contain your applause, but ladies, feel free to toss your bras in my general direction.

[No shame, this one.]

You know, I was kind of busy back home. [With Church shit. It was always Church shit, and there wasn't a single damn regret for it; in a way, he hoped it kept being Church shit because that meant that bastard was still around. Tucker wanted to be back there, needed to be back there because--] Those idiots - my idiots - have no one to lead them now unless you count Sarge and no one counts Sarge. Shit, I don't even think the Reds count Sarge. Okay, so maybe Simmons does, but whatever.

[He sighed, rubbing his hand over his helmet before he just waved his hand.] But cool, superpowers, am I right? I mean, if I was getting chicks before, I'm getting triple chicks now.

[Let the record show that he was not, in fact, getting ladies before, and that the triple of "zero" is still "zero".]

Look, I just want to get this shit done and over with so I can get back to being a badass back home and get my shit done. So, you know, I'll do what I have to, I guess.

[There's a sigh, that burden of few choices and responsibility - ew - before he cocked is head up.]

Hey, important final question: where do all the hotties hang out around here? There's the title of wingman up for grabs if you tell me.

[At least the video ends there, and everyone was probably better for it.]

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[Shit. ]

Wash won't?

[And while Tucker was impressed with his own new leadership skills, with his trust, with everything that made him feel on equal footing with Wash rather than one of his subordinates, there was something that made him take a step back, default to the Freelancer now. Wash wasn't telling him, and if Wash wasn't telling him, there had to be a reason. Which meant Tucker was going to keep his mouth shut, too, until he could talk to him and figure this shit out.

Tucker was putting his faith in him and his closed-mouth decision. It's what you had to do sometimes.

But Grif did bring up a good point.]

Wait, who's "nobody"? How many are there from our world, anyway?

He thinks I'll change the past and screw up the future or something.

[ And is honestly right, despite Grif's dismissive tone. ]

You, me, Wash, some big dude called Locus, and some dead freelancers. I mean, they're alive right now, but you know. Time travel. Connecticut, New York, North Dakota.

[ He likes the dead freelancers he's hung out with more than the alive ones he met back home, honestly. ]

[Yeah, sounds like a good enough reason for him. Trusting in Wash so far had worked out in Tucker's favor, and he wasn't about flip the script now.] Guess you know what my answer to telling you stuff, then.

[But God, was it hard not to. Especially when all he wanted to do was flip him off and yell at him about what a deserter was. When he wanted to have a beer with someone who understood how he felt about Epsilon and his dumbass sacrifices. When he wanted to ask him why.

Tucker rolled his eyes at the mention of Locus because yeah, Wash told him. He still didn't believe it because it was Locus and fuck that, but whatever. Just because everyone bought that shit didn't mean he was going to be doing the same. And of course more Freelancers.

Ugh, Freelancers. Was there one that hadn't tried to kill him at some point? Really?

But there were some good ones. He was learning that, too.]

Be honest: Are these Freelancers as much of a pain as the rest we've met? [Then again, Tucker had met a few different ones than Grif had. Poor guy hadn't gotten to meet Carolina. He didn't know what he was missing.]

Well fuck you too, dude.

[ Yeah no, he's still not happy about his situation vis a vis the loop. There's more resignation in it than anger, though. The bird he flips the camera is lazy and he doesn't keep it up the way Tucker did. He cares, but not quite enough to escalate for now. ]

York and Connie are alright, I haven't really talked to the other guy.

[ Translation: Connie fed him pancakes and York is funny. Miles cooler than Wyoming. ]

Sorry, dude. If I have to worry about shit changing and me becoming less of a badass just because you're curious, I'm not taking that chance. I'm siding with Wash on this one.

[Besides, how much stuff could change? Could it make or break Chorus? Could it mean that they never got Epsilon or they never came to see him in the desert (which, still, fuck you guys for ignoring that call)? Could it mean that Wash or Carolina never came to their crew?

Nope. Not worth it.

There was a shrug in response to that middle finger, but he knew Grif's heart wasn't in it. That made two of them. And hey, Freelancers that were "alright" were a bonus, better than what they were used to dealing with. Finally, something going right for once.]

Cool. I guess I don't have to worry about them trying to kill us around here, at least.

[ He lets this end of the discussion drop. Of course Tucker will side with Wash, isn't Wash a Blue in the future or something? Why would they give a shit about his problems? Fuck both of them. ]

Well, one of them's a chick. So you might need to watch yourself.

[ They may not be best friends, or really friends at all by Grif's standards, and they're definitely annoyed with each other. But the joke is just laying right there for the taking, and it's not like being annoyed with someone is a strange new experience for Grif that alters his priorities. Despite his bitterness, there's actually no malice in the jab. ]

[For a second, it's like being retired again. The light jabbing, the bickering, the bitching about what band name sounded better and whether Wash should shave that stupid beard (spoiler alert: he should). It felt like home, but without a bunch of idiots doing stupid stuff, which was strangely exactly what home was.

Home was idiots. Idiots and Church drama. Which is why the harshest of the edges smoothed a little, and while still pissed, while still annoyed, it was something he could work with. And besides, it seemed the guys around here liked Grif, for some stupid reason, and he wanted to find out why.

Tucker smiled a little, one of his armored shoulders shrugging a little. Some places would never heal from where Tex wailed on all of them. ]

If she's hot, it's not myself I'll be watching.

[She probably was, though. Freelancers tended to be hot.]

[Locked to Grif]

Dude, seriously, tell me what I need to know about this place. Like, how bad is it?

[ Part of Grif wants to dig in, here. Tucker's refused to tell him anything, just like Wash, and he's mad at both of them. He should just shut Tucker out, or try to trade, or...

It won't work. Someone else (like Wash, actually) will just tell him all this shit anyway and Grif will have nothing to show for it.

So. ]

It's vegan.

[ Which is the most horrifying thing Grif can say about a place, but right now? He feels like he should stick up for the Better Space Future a bit. Even if he kind of hates that about it, the Better Space Future sure sticks up for him. ]

But it's not bad. The technology is great. The internet is amazing and you're gonna be sore.

[ Gross, but vital intel. Thanks, Grif. But he's inching toward the more serious end of the topic. ]

This team's... they're nice people, Tucker. I mean, we've got plenty of assholes too, but...

[ He tails it off into a shrug. There's something ever so slightly pained in his tone. He still doesn't quite know how to deal with it, or feel like he deserves nice people. ]

We're saving the goddamn universe, it could honestly be going a lot worse.

[ There. He told Tucker some things, and that officially makes him the better and more generous person in this conversation. He might not be able to come away with the answers he wants, but he can at least feel a little superior about that. ]

Vegan?

[He knew what that meant, he just didn't want to believe it. Vegan. No burgers. No steaks. Tucker made A Face, something akin to bother disappointed and horrified, and secretly wondered if Donut was in charge of everything here. Hell. ]

Okay, rethinking this hero thing.

[But the internet...Well, that was bonus. A big bonus. If it was amazing and it was fast and crystal clear pictures of amateur por--]

No parental locks, right? [Because what was worse than an open internet and not being able to use it in the ways he wanted to? It was like that Twilight Zone episode of that guy with the glasses and all the books he couldn't read now, and Tucker was having none of that.

But vegans and internet and ...nice people. That's what he got himself into, surrounded himself with, couldn't exactly escape from. Nice people. This was going to be a weird change of pace because they weren't used to nice people; they were used to assholes like each other, but they made it work. Well, mostly.

Until...until they stopped making it work.]

When aren't we saving the goddamn universe? [Which, it wasn't ever that scale, just planets and wrecking projects mostly, but the weight sure made it feel that way. Tucker rubbed his hands over his face again.] Fine, fine, sure. We help save the universe and then we go home.

[He made it a point. We. All of us. Come on, Grif. Don't do it to him again.]

If the internet's as good as you say it is, I'm game.

You can't eat anything that might've ever had feelings, but nah there's no parental locks on the space internet. Go nuts.

[ It's still not entirely a fair trade, if you ask him. And speaking of unfair... ]

Dude you can't just imply shit about the future if you're not gonna tell me about the future. And you help save the universe and go home. I'm staying here.

[ ...And things were finally starting to get a tiny bit chummy again. Dammit, Grif. ]

[Wasn't feelings the thing that made it taste good?]

I guess if I have to trade one thing for the other, I'm winning in this deal. At least until I get carpal tunnel.

[Tucker. Tucker Tucker Tucker.

Still, he knew that was going to come, the whole getting bitched at about not telling him, but hell, Grif was still going on about not coming home. Home. Place where they lived. Where they should be aiming for.

Not...here.]

Why do you care about what's going on in the future and with the guys if you don't even care enough to go back?

[Maybe it sounded a little more wounded than he planned.]

Did you ever stop to think that maybe I might go back if I actually knew it mattered if I go back?

Wash says it does but I don't know how or why. It's kind of hard to believe anything I could possibly do in that shithole might change the future in any way.

[ There's something very, very honest in that flare of bitterness. Grif has had years to stew over being stationed in Blood Gulch and its clear lack of significance to the war or... anything, really. He can't know why he was put there, but he stopped trusting that it was a decisive tactical move a very long time ago. ]

Of course it fucking matters if you go back!

[JFC, man! He waved one of his hands, gesticulating as he talked because did Grif really think that? Did he? Ugh, Red Team was starting to encroach on the Blue Team's dramatics, it seemed.]

Look, just because I can't tell you what happens doesn't mean that you're not important. I know we're not exactly BFFs or anything, but just...trust me. You fucking matter.

Especially to your messed up team.

[Shit, he felt like he was telling quitting Grif the same thing, as if they were interchangeable. Tucker rolled his eyes and sighed; way too many emotions in this shit.]

I know it doesn't seem like it, but they care, okay?

Look, maybe the future is full of magical friendship adventures and rainbows and shit, but me? Right now?

I don't care about that team, Tucker.

[ It's not entirely true. But it's a lot easier to say this than to admit the alternative. ]

Quite frankly I'm fucking amazed that there's a future me that's still with you guys. Good on him for finally growing a backbone or whatever.

Come on, it's us. You know it's not filled with anything other than bullshit and annoyances and things on fire.

[Way to sell it. Shit.

That "not caring" didn't change in the future either, Grif. That didn't alter or grow any less real over the years; if anything it cemented itself even more, a pit that kept digging itself until there was nowhere else to go. The bitterness started to rise inside of Tucker again, a white hot hand clutching at his ribs and climbing them like a ladder as he bit back the yell.

Fuck this. Fuck all of this.]

Good to know that you're a selfish asshole no matter when you come from.

Good to know we're such great friends in the future that you don't even fucking know me.

[ And with that snarl, Grif closes the channel. Fuck Tucker. Fuck home showing up to make him feel bad about how things are going well for once in his stupid fucking life. ]

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