[ He could text, but he's always preferred something less veiled— so whether or not she picks up immediately, she'll get a voicemail or a call, either way. ]
[ Two can play at the mystery game, Isha Devan. The fact of the matter is that no one on this ship besides the people from home know who he is and what he does, and he's going to choose to let that be a constant. For now.
He goes on, though, because he also believes in obfuscation through truth and facts. It's the only tactic he knows how to employ when it comes to being covert. ]
But that makes you a white-collar mystery. [ Just a tinge of amusement, there. Blink, and you'd miss it. ] If you find me, I could give you pointers.
One laced with diamonds and platinum. [She could hide what she does, or did. But what point is there? For the many things that she could actually do, very few seemed to actually believe her back home.
Hiding in plain sight has its perks.]
Is this a scavenger hunt? If you really want to see me, you can just ask instead of making such a fuss about it.
[ The last time Venom encountered Isha was, to put it mildly, in not-so-ideal conditions, so he approaches her with a measure of cautiousness today— one palm offered in confidence, falling down at his holstered gun when he knows for certain that he's gotten her attention.
He keeps his focus on her with simmering intensity, but that isn't new. His silence isn't anything wildly unexpected, either, as he approaches and keeps a good few feet of distance between them. ]
[No need for him to know that she needs to doubly overcompensate her systems to make up for the fact that she literally can't feel a thing.
She can't say she knows him well, but she knows him well enough to be unsurprised by his silence. She welcomes it, actually, instead of the chaos that she usually thrives in. Explosions and groaning metal frames still ring clear in her mind.
The tank top she wears now isn't as destroyed as her prior one, but it's already seen some not-so-great days. Bruises and cuts are healing all over her body, including the scabbing wounds on her back and shoulders.]
[ She's seen enough of him— that is, the brief interlude between his wakefulness and his sleeping— to know that the placidity he wears like a second skin isn't all there is, but if Venom remembers that she's been privy to that, he hasn't shown it. He's as practical and fast-moving as ever, hand in his pacdisc and prosthetic digging through his belongings without preamble or prompting. ]
Keep working.
[ He doesn't need her to make conversation with him if she's busy, and what he's looking to do is straightforward enough: let's play a little bit of I Spy. Antiseptic, bandages, and water. All signs point to one objective. ]
[She had planned on doing just that anyway. She flexes her hands, fingers, closing and opening her grip. It feels painfully tight, but that was the price she paid for refusing to let anyone work on it but herself, and refusing to allow herself to be found back home.
In the brief moment she pauses, she glances at him, all full of medical goodies.]
You don't have to keep doing that.
[Because she already owes him, though it could be argued they're even.]</small.
[ This, right on the tail of being called 'bossy'. He breathes through his teeth, a bare-boned gesture of goodwill as he bridges the gap between them with slow, purposeful strides. ]
...Old habits die hard.
[ Regarding his propensity to reach for the medical supplies, he means. It's an obtuse statement, as cryptic as it is dryly self-deprecating.
He crouches down next to her, dabbing gauze in disinfectant. ]
You wanted me to teach you about how to survive in the field. Here's your first lesson: infections are your worst enemy.
[She'd seen enough people die on the streets out of infected wounds. She could only go half as far as she did in her stupider days because she actually bothered to look after the wounds properly.
Including the ones on her back.]
Why do you care?
[There it is, the question she can never hold back, because she's entirely too used to doing everything alone and no one looking after her.]
[ Good, gentle facetiousness still does wonders. Venom poises and starts around the outer perimeter of a still-healing gash first, mindful of the raw areas where the disinfectant would still burn.
The question Isha poses is hilariously and immensely pertinent to various facets of his life (why does he, still? what reason is there for him to care about anything?), but he doesn't provide an overcomplicated answer for it. ]
You're a crewmate.
[ He says, as if to reassure her that things can be that simple. Venom holds his families in high esteem, and while the Moira isn't his home (far from it), Venom still has loyalty in spades. It's the only virtue he can afford to extend. ]
—Didn't have my hands full with anything else, either.
[ He also figures that Isha isn't the type to want to make it too personal, so he doesn't. ]
[In truth, she had braced for some complicated answer, or one that would force her to reassess where she stands. Outside of her own team, she could never quite get used to anyone really doing anything for her, much less caring in a manner that would involve her wellbeing.
She sucks in air as soon as the disinfectant touches the raw parts of her skin, even if it's only a slight touch.]
So when you're bored you go around fixing people?
[She spreads her fingers. Electricity jumps between the tips of the prosthetic. At least that still works perfectly.]
[ She's asking all the difficult questions, huh!!!!!! But in all honesty, he doesn't have the liberty of answering a majority of the questions that pertain to who he is and why he does what he does. The real answer to a good portion of why he does what he does is his aversion to loss, to his sentimentalism. Neither of those facets of him suit a man of his position or the man playing the role he has to play, so he doesn't vocalize them.
Instead, he remains silent. Thoughtful.
Until he has to open his mouth again, that is. ]
No. You're unlucky, in that regard.
[ A wry semi-joke, before he presses on. ]
But you're strong. Capable. [ He brushes more disinfectant over the wound, then gets to work wrapping it. ] You also have unique skillsets. Don't see much of a point in you doing a disservice to yourself by pretending you're not worth medical attention.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
voice;
Status?
[ How eloquent, we know. ]
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[How appropriately dramatic.]
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Don't sound it.
[ Which is to say: good, you're alive. ]
But that doesn't tell me much.
[ Injuries? Is she with people? Does she have rations? Give him some peace of mind, here. ]
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[Injuries, being a loner, food and one sole bottle of booze.]
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There's a time and place to be mysterious. Now's not it.
[ Predictably, Venom is playing at being responsible in times of a crisis.
And ah, there's that sigh. He's lost this battle before it's even began. ]
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[She'll take that sigh as a battle won.]
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Looks like you don't.
[ "You", not "mysteries". ]
You're alright?
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[Mostly. She's still on the mend, too proud to really get more advanced medical help.
As you do.
Surprisingly, she's managed to restrain the usual "why do you care" questions...]
You?
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Fine. This isn't my first time being out in the elements.
[ Yet again, hinting at the fact that he has expertise to share. ]
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[Good thing she's perceptive.]
My elements are pavement, glass, and crooked people, not whatever this is.
[A roundabout way of saying share with the class.]
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[ Two can play at the mystery game, Isha Devan. The fact of the matter is that no one on this ship besides the people from home know who he is and what he does, and he's going to choose to let that be a constant. For now.
He goes on, though, because he also believes in obfuscation through truth and facts. It's the only tactic he knows how to employ when it comes to being covert. ]
But that makes you a white-collar mystery. [ Just a tinge of amusement, there. Blink, and you'd miss it. ] If you find me, I could give you pointers.
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Hiding in plain sight has its perks.]
Is this a scavenger hunt? If you really want to see me, you can just ask instead of making such a fuss about it.
[Stop it.]
Do you make everyone work this hard for you?
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[ A lie, mostly unintentional. Venom isn't terribly difficult at all when push comes to shove, but don't tell him that. ]
You're gonna let me find you?
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[If she weren't knee deep in repairs, she would've gladly taken up the challenge.]
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[ Isha, this place is like 50 thousand miles of fog and rocky terrain with the occasional abandoned settlements, throw him a bone. ]
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And he'll find her not too far from a medic tent, sitting on a rock with her sunglasses on and poring over her mechanical arm.]
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He keeps his focus on her with simmering intensity, but that isn't new. His silence isn't anything wildly unexpected, either, as he approaches and keeps a good few feet of distance between them. ]
Technical difficulties?
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[No need for him to know that she needs to doubly overcompensate her systems to make up for the fact that she literally can't feel a thing.
She can't say she knows him well, but she knows him well enough to be unsurprised by his silence. She welcomes it, actually, instead of the chaos that she usually thrives in. Explosions and groaning metal frames still ring clear in her mind.
The tank top she wears now isn't as destroyed as her prior one, but it's already seen some not-so-great days. Bruises and cuts are healing all over her body, including the scabbing wounds on her back and shoulders.]
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Keep working.
[ He doesn't need her to make conversation with him if she's busy, and what he's looking to do is straightforward enough: let's play a little bit of I Spy. Antiseptic, bandages, and water. All signs point to one objective. ]
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[She had planned on doing just that anyway. She flexes her hands, fingers, closing and opening her grip. It feels painfully tight, but that was the price she paid for refusing to let anyone work on it but herself, and refusing to allow herself to be found back home.
In the brief moment she pauses, she glances at him, all full of medical goodies.]
You don't have to keep doing that.
[Because she already owes him, though it could be argued they're even.]</small.
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...Old habits die hard.
[ Regarding his propensity to reach for the medical supplies, he means. It's an obtuse statement, as cryptic as it is dryly self-deprecating.
He crouches down next to her, dabbing gauze in disinfectant. ]
You wanted me to teach you about how to survive in the field. Here's your first lesson: infections are your worst enemy.
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[She'd seen enough people die on the streets out of infected wounds. She could only go half as far as she did in her stupider days because she actually bothered to look after the wounds properly.
Including the ones on her back.]
Why do you care?
[There it is, the question she can never hold back, because she's entirely too used to doing everything alone and no one looking after her.]
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The question Isha poses is hilariously and immensely pertinent to various facets of his life (why does he, still? what reason is there for him to care about anything?), but he doesn't provide an overcomplicated answer for it. ]
You're a crewmate.
[ He says, as if to reassure her that things can be that simple. Venom holds his families in high esteem, and while the Moira isn't his home (far from it), Venom still has loyalty in spades. It's the only virtue he can afford to extend. ]
—Didn't have my hands full with anything else, either.
[ He also figures that Isha isn't the type to want to make it too personal, so he doesn't. ]
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She sucks in air as soon as the disinfectant touches the raw parts of her skin, even if it's only a slight touch.]
So when you're bored you go around fixing people?
[She spreads her fingers. Electricity jumps between the tips of the prosthetic. At least that still works perfectly.]
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Instead, he remains silent. Thoughtful.
Until he has to open his mouth again, that is. ]
No. You're unlucky, in that regard.
[ A wry semi-joke, before he presses on. ]
But you're strong. Capable. [ He brushes more disinfectant over the wound, then gets to work wrapping it. ] You also have unique skillsets. Don't see much of a point in you doing a disservice to yourself by pretending you're not worth medical attention.
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