Lavernius Tucker (
lovernotafighter) wrote in
thelegion2017-05-24 10:26 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Video
[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.]
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.]
no subject
What if Wash was the only one who could save Epsilon? Could catch him before he did his Big Dumb Stupid Fucking Thing? What if Church didn't have to die?
But what if him arriving early meant Wash was killed instead? ]
Yeah, but what if you're so eager to get there because of the shit I tell you that you forget the damn vest? [The metaphor was getting convoluted. Shit. He shook his head and he wasn't sure if he could just get out of this conversation without shutting it down and walking away. This wasn't like with Caboose; he couldn't wave a laser pointer against a wall and distract him. Wash wouldn't let it go.
So, maybe bargaining...]
Look, I'll stay from Hottie McKill-kini up there, but you need to stay away from this, okay? [It wasn't a fair trade. It wasn't, Tucker knew it, but he didn't know what else to offer him.] Because if you got there any differently than when you did, you could fuck it up more.
[More. More. Not the right word to use.]
no subject
[Tucker never knew him before Epsilon rewired his memory into stark, painful perfection, so it's an easy card to play. It's also dragging the metaphor back into the real, but it's not like they haven't had weirder conversations.]
That's not the same thing. [It's the You Are An Adult and You Should Damn Well Know This tone, and he hasn't had to break it out in a while. Turns out the Legion is a different kind of team, and most of the people who don't know better are teenagers.]
[And then that tone dies, because Tucker is still talking and it takes a fucking turn. The silence after his words lingers for a moment too long. When Wash speaks again, his tone is very carefully controlled.]
Fuck it up more?
no subject
[It was a joke, something sarcastic to smooth over the edges that he was used to. Probably not the best time for it, but damn, he was trying something. Anything.]
It IS the same thing, Wash! You think he doesn't want to know shit, too? You think he didn't ask me? How do you think I even found out about this rule in the first place?
[And if he hadn't? Oh, then he would have spilled everything, every last sordid detail from the fight, from Epsilon, from the Temple and retirement. He would have said it all because he wanted to talk about it, wanted to spill his conflict of having so much to do at home and no means to do it. He could relate on the pressures of time, of fear, of worry; every second here was another one where Church was--
--who fucking knew what Church was. That was the whole point!
But then he said something stupid and fuck. Fuck. Wash caught it and he was screwed. That tone, Tucker knew. He had heard it a few times before, and he wished like hell that he could hang up and just stop this.]
I don't mean it like that; stop being paranoid. [Ha. Ha. Ha.]
no subject
[But wasting time regretting the past leads nowhere - a lesson he's learned the hard way over the past few years. Better to deal with the present.]
[The present in which Tucker is withholding information, except for the part where he drops it in tiny pieces that do absolutely nothing to help Wash's anxiety. Great.]
This isn't paranoia, it's suspicion, and given your little freudian slip just now I think I'm justified. You wouldn't say fuck it up more if things weren't already fucked up.
What. Happened.
no subject
Trying to shut him out was damn near impossible, which was were the slip even began, out in the air before Tucker could stop it. Too slow. He looked away, then shook his head. Wash deserved better, deserved the answers, deserved to sleep at night knowing what really happened, but Tucker? Tucker could give none of it.
God, he felt like shit.]
Wash, you still didn't tell me if you would let me know if the tables were turned.
[And the worst part? Tucker was almost certain Wash wasn't going to tell the truth here.]
no subject
It would depend on the circumstances.
[It's a weak answer, but it's all he has at the moment.]
no subject
[He didn't bother hiding the annoyance in his voice, because come on, Wash! How stupid do you think he is? There was a roll of his eyes, exaggerated and obvious, and fuck it.
There wasn't any joy in this, nothing fun even though he clearly won this fight. There wasn't any way to lord it over him, couldn't wave it around, make it his, and dammit, that was half the fun of winning. Wash didn't get what he wanted, but neither did Tucker; if anything, Tucker just felt more alone he had before.
There was no one who knew what he did. Yay.]
Look, we both know the answer, and we both know I can't tell you anything. Let it go, okay?
no subject
[It would be so easy to tip into anger, to raise the volume and keep pushing, but- what's the point? Tucker has dug in, and Wash has no angle of approach that will get him what he wants. He lost. It fucking matters - he needs this - and he still lost.]
[Typical.]
I can't.
[It's a simple statement of fact. It's also six months of sleepless nights and worry that couldn't be assuaged, worry that's gotten that much worse over the course of this conversation. It's everything that's haunting him that he can't fix right now.]
But evidently there's nothing I can do about any of this.
[It's not so much slamming a door shut as it is closing it quietly behind him. Delivery is different, but the result's still the same.]
no subject
He hated it. He hated not telling him, and there was a small, defeated shrug, which felt weird since he won.
Then again, was anyone really winning?]
Sorry, Wash. [Words he rarely said, but whatever. He would bite the bullet on this.] This shit isn’t fun, trust me.