Agent North Dakota | Andrew Engelsen (
bothbarrels) wrote2021-08-22 10:30 am
Duplicity IC Contact

I suppose if you've reached this message I'm not around to accept your contact.
So, you can just leave it here, and I'll be sure to contact you back as soon as I can.

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[ He moves a hand to her chin and lifts her face toward him. ]
What are you hiding and why?
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Drew—
[ She grits her teeth, wrenching her head away from his hand, but of course he doesn't let her turn away again that easily and just moves with her. God-fucking-dammit. How the fuck is it she can spend months lying to his face but in situations like this, every fucking word out of her mouth gives her away? ]
I told you. I pissed someone off, that someone had a goddamn gun in their hand, bang. Goodbye South. It's that simple.
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Someone?
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Yeah, someone. I told you, I only know all this third hand. It's not like I stood there staring down the barrel myself.
[ But she doesn't like the look on his face. At all. Her brow furrows and she eyes him warily. ]
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And who told you this?
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[ Oh no she does not trust like that. She rubs her tongue against her teeth, trying to think, because she can't just say nothing but— ]
The others on the fucking rig who lived longer than we did, duh.
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[ He really feels like she's trying to hide something because of the way she's not being forthright with it. He doesn't like it. ]
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Wash. Lina. You know. Same as here. They're the last two in the future.
[ She doesn't even like that she's trying this hard to obscure this, trying this hard to lie, but for once she's not lying for her own good. She should've done this the right way, then she could've made up a decent fucking cover story. ]
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And you know which one of them did the shooting. Don't you.
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Them being the last two around doesn't mean one of them fucking shot me!
[ Technically a true statement. There are countless other Freelancers that were still kicking when she was actually shot. Doesn't make it convincing, though. Especially with the way her shoulders pull tight. ]
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Do you know the person who did it?
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[ She's going to have the world's worst headache after this. Just. The worst. She would take him bursting into tears again over this right now. ]
What do you think? It was fucking Freelancer eat Freelancer out there.
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[ 'South' right now, because this is about the Project, apparently.
He reaches and takes her hand. ]
Please. Tell me.
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[ She flinches—hearing him say South when not in front of other people still has some raw associations. She bites her tongue hard enough she tastes iron. Fuck. Fuuuuuck. She's backed into a goddamned corner. She laughs without humour, covers her face with her other hand. ]
The one fucking time I try cover for someone else...
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[ Well, this is either going to nuke the surprisingly amicable friendship (?) developing with Wash, or— something else, she doesn't know. ]
...you've got to fucking promise me you're not going to be stupid.
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[ He says it mildly, not sounding offended. ]
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Dude you suddenly developed the ability to want to kill out of revenge when I told you about a psyche experiment, you're trying to get me to tell you who fucking kills me.
[ Plus the him on the rig was so fucking stupid about this but she doesn't want to get right into that when he's at least acknowledged the whole 'lying to myself and others' thing here. ]
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Why are you trying to protect them?
[ He says it in the same mild tone, as if this is a brain teaser they're contemplating and not her death. ]
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Why are any of you giving me the chance to prove I'm not a backstabbing bitch anymore? Same principle.
[ Totally true. She actually kinda likes the Washes she's known, now. That it's at least 50% because she can't blame him for doing it, that she probably even deserved that bullet, is something for her to know. ]
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And at the end of his pondering, he reaches in his pocket. ]
If I called Carolina, would she know the answer?
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God-fucking-dammit, Drew—yes, yes she fucking would, but don't— don't do that.
[ She slaps at his arm to try and get him to take it out of his pocket. ]
Don't drag anyone else into this right now. Please.
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What's going on? You feel like because you've forgiven this person you owe them something? Or you're somehow afraid of what I'd do to them? I want to know, Anja. Tell me.
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I don't... it's not...
[ She owes Wash something, not because she's forgiven him—she's not sure if she has, really, she's just not holding it against him anymore, there's definitely a difference—but because she shot him in the back long before he shot her. She has to make shit up to him, too. ]
It's Wash, okay?! It's fucking Wash! Who the fuck else? I shot him in the fucking back, remember? When we crossed paths again, apparently he took the opportunity to get revenge! Hell, it's not even like I can blame him for it!
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And then he nods, grunting an acceptance of the fact, and bends at the waist, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands together, and his chin on his thumbs. ]
cw: vague suicidal ideation
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cw: vague suicidal ideation again
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