They spend the next- twelve, eighteen hours that way, while the storm howls overhead. Jet rests almost as much as he pretends to, and Blue-Mask is as forthcoming with answers as ever.
It’s weird.
Jet’s trying to read the guy who’s taken his life in his hands, and is coming up with conflicting signals. There’s discipline there, and rare skill- but not professional. The guy’s got the mask between him and the world, but Jet thinks it’s because he needs it- it gives him the cold detachment a professional would already have.
The guy wants him comfortable. The food is one thing, but the nest of blankets, the care when he was coming out of the freeze, leaving him his weapons as a good-behavior bribe? And if this is a trap meant to lull him into coming quietly, wouldn’t it have been sprung and the pretense dropped by now?
He thinks he knows, and it lessens the guilt when Blue-Mask looks out the tent flap, indicates that the storm’s gone, and gets a cooking pot to the back of the head for his troubles.
Honey or vinegar- he knows bait when he tastes it.
From there Jet moves as fast as he can. He leaves Blue-Mask tied (quality rope, there), firmly but not damagingly, and rearranges the fire to burn warm but not out of control for a good while before bundling into every layer of warm clothing he can squeeze into.
He hesitates at the entrance, hefting the shoulder bag he’s filled with useful things, and starts to step out the door. Blue-Mask is breathing, warm and set up in the tent behind him- if he’s resourceful as he’s been so far, he’ll make his way back to civilization no problem. Jet needs to get moving and figure out where he is, and how far away home might be from here.
He wonders if this Firelord that Lee has become is one who takes care of things through agents, or does his own dirty-work.
The tent-flap closes again.
The mask comes away and it can’t be put back, and as he bites back a curse, he knows he can really only blame himself for looking.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Late!late!Bonus!fic- After The War 5/?
Date: 2010-10-08 06:16 pm (UTC)It’s weird.
Jet’s trying to read the guy who’s taken his life in his hands, and is coming up with conflicting signals. There’s discipline there, and rare skill- but not professional. The guy’s got the mask between him and the world, but Jet thinks it’s because he needs it- it gives him the cold detachment a professional would already have.
The guy wants him comfortable. The food is one thing, but the nest of blankets, the care when he was coming out of the freeze, leaving him his weapons as a good-behavior bribe? And if this is a trap meant to lull him into coming quietly, wouldn’t it have been sprung and the pretense dropped by now?
He thinks he knows, and it lessens the guilt when Blue-Mask looks out the tent flap, indicates that the storm’s gone, and gets a cooking pot to the back of the head for his troubles.
Honey or vinegar- he knows bait when he tastes it.
From there Jet moves as fast as he can. He leaves Blue-Mask tied (quality rope, there), firmly but not damagingly, and rearranges the fire to burn warm but not out of control for a good while before bundling into every layer of warm clothing he can squeeze into.
He hesitates at the entrance, hefting the shoulder bag he’s filled with useful things, and starts to step out the door. Blue-Mask is breathing, warm and set up in the tent behind him- if he’s resourceful as he’s been so far, he’ll make his way back to civilization no problem. Jet needs to get moving and figure out where he is, and how far away home might be from here.
He wonders if this Firelord that Lee has become is one who takes care of things through agents, or does his own dirty-work.
The tent-flap closes again.
The mask comes away and it can’t be put back, and as he bites back a curse, he knows he can really only blame himself for looking.
…