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capthepoint2013-04-15 08:32 pm
snipingblus.livejournal.com) wrote in capthepoint2013-04-15 08:32 pm
Rp Log: Suddenly Mutewell
Who: Hugh and Orwell
When: April 11th
Where: Common room and Outside
what: Getting along, fighting for fun, some kind of witchcraft and making plans.
/as it stands, he's just going to flop in the couch and curl up into a slightly condensed ball. he's not particularly willing to be roaming around the place, and this is the best place for him to sit, he figures.
*he does his best to avoid Orwell and normally seeing him in the common room would be his cue to get out but he didn't normally see him curled up in a ball aside from occasionally on the respawn room floor. He approaches the sofa and leans on the back to look down at him* Bad respawn?
/All Hugh's getting for the moment is a nod. He fidgets a bit, biting his lip and looking perhaps a bit uncomfortable. Orwell huffs after a few seconds of silence, looking up at Hugh with a clearly disgruntled frown.
*he stares back at him, brows coming together in a frown* Do you need some painkillers or something?
/At first, he opens his mouth, expression turning even more irritated when nothing comes out. Instead, he just shakes his head, balling his hands into fists.
*okay, now he actually looks somewhat concerned* Calm down, I was just asking.
/He's mouthing something, and if he would've been doing it slower, it would've been more intelligible as something along the lines of 'I can't talk'. He's not happy, that's clear.
*he's no expect at lip reading but the lack of words he can hear is pretty jarring* Well that's new. Any respawn sickness past that?"
/Just. The flattest look ever, Hugh. After a second, he nods, crossing his arms and leaning back into the couch with a dark frown.
Well you weren't interested in anything for pain. I thought I'd be sure, there's no need to give me that look.
/Whatever it is he's trying to say, it clearly has violent connotations. When he's done with that, he goes ahead and flicks Hugh off, wiggling a bit to get more comfortable.
Yes Orwell, I'll keep that in mind. *he tilts his head a little to the side* I'm going to get a drink, tea, do you want a cup?
/He scowls at his teammate, giving another sigh before reluctantly nodding. Might as well, even if he doesn't seem particularly enthused.
Really twisting your arm over it aren't I? *still he stops leaning on the sofa and heads through to the kitchen. Once he is done making the drinks he comes back and puts one cup down on the coffee table* One cup of hot poison sir.
/Orwell looks back and forth between the cup and Hugh for a few seconds, eventually raising an eyebrow with a slight frown.
*he copies his expression* It was a joke.
/Aaaand round two for flicking you off, Hugh. At least he takes a sip, cringing a little when it's slightly hotter than expected.
*he just seems amused and settles down on a different chair with his own cup* It's not going to kill you but it is hot.
/He rolls his eyes, putting the cup back down after an added second of holding it in the air. He's trying to say something about respawn, though he's doing really poorly at actually...saying what it is. Vocally, anyway.
...I really can't read lips. Have you considered writing things down?
/He turns both of his palms toward the ceiling, fixing Hugh with an unamused stare. After a moment, he shrugs, still visibly agitated.
If you need paper for something important I do have some.
/He's clearly thinking on this, a scowl settling on his face at the suggestion. Orwell is not particularly fond of the idea of accepting help, especially not with this. He doesn't really have too much of a choice, however--when he's done thinking out some sort of backwards reasoning for why he should, he gives a hesitant nod, looking almost ashamed.
I have a notebook somewhere, it should have a few empty pages in it still. *takes a sip of his tea then puts it down on the table* I'll be back soon.
*and he's off and right enough it does not take long to locate said book, finding blank pages it a little more difficult but when he comes back he has a couple to offer him alongside a pencil* You won't be able to have much of a conversation but you'll be able to write down something important if you need to.
/The first thing he writes is a medium-sized 'fuck you' in the middle of the page. That being done, he looks back up at Hugh with an uninterested frown.
I'm sure that was paper well used. *he goes to sit back down again and resume his tea drinking*
/A nod./ 'It had to be said. This bloody sucks, anyway.'
*he did have to lean over to read that* I suppose it's different when you are just choosing not to talk to anyone.
'Are you just now figuring that out? I literally cannot speak.' /A snort. He takes another sip, watching Hugh now.
No, I understood that much but really most people won't notice unless you have taken to talking to them a lot while I wasn't paying attention.
'Please do shut up.' /He drums his fingers on the table, scowling./ 'This is a problem, and it needs to be fixed.'
*gestures like he is zipping his mouth shut then has a sip of tea*
/After a long silent period involving constant staring at Hugh, he fidgets uncomfortably, tugging the notepad back over./ 'That is not what I meant.'
Alright, alright. I don't know much about the respawn system really. At least I don't know how it works.I take it you tried going through respawn again? Just nod or shake your head.
/A nod. He holds up three fingers afterward, doing his best not to look queasy at the thought of respawning with minimal success.
RED Engineer may be one of your best bets to talk about it with. Perhaps Medic and if all else fails the Civilian though I do hear he does not much care for you.
/Judging from the snarl on his face at mention of the Civilian, the feeling is mutual./ 'I would rather this be dealt with quickly. Perhaps the Engineer is the ideal choice for this, being that it deals with respawn.'
Just bear in mind he may well not be able to fix you. I know he had done repair work on the machines before though so if there is something wrong with the machine itself hopefully that will get sorted out. *sighs and lens back* Just trying to think if he is free at the moment. *admittedly he is not in much of a rush to get Orwell fixed, the quiet /is/ nice*
/For a few seconds, there's silent angry cursing directed at Hugh, along with some frustrated hand gestures that seem to involve strangulation at one point. When he writes, it's in hard, dark letters.| 'He had better be able to.'
*leans against the arm of the chair to watch some of Orwell's more interesting gesturing* For all I can't hear you I'm pretty sure that nothing you are saying is all that nice. If you like I could leave you to sort all this out on your own terms.
/That's a very clear 'no', and he almost looks panicked for a split second, sitting up straight and almost fumbling the pencil as he tries getting the words down.| 'That will not be necessary.' /It's moderately legible, which is saying something considering how quickly he wrote that down.
*he has to squint a bit to read the note* Well, Red is free a lot of the time he isn't watching for the robots and he's a patient man. If you do need to speak with him on your own I'm sure he will put up with note writing.
/At this point, he's starting to run out of room on the page. He looks a bit nervous about this, glancing back and forth between the paper and Hugh with an uncomfortable expression in his face. He eventually relents and takes another sip of tea, still thinking on what to say.
*he looks down at the page* If need be I may be able to scrounge up something else, if I had a rubber this would be a little easier. As it is take your time, there's no rush.
/He's 'talking' again, though it's a bit more hesitant than before. Whatever it is, he cuts himself off, biting his lip and folding his hands over his lap. Orwell watches Hugh almost expectantly, fidgeting slightly in place.
... *stands up* Stay put, drink your tea. I'll see what I can find, you going to be alright with that?
/Instead of trying any more verbal responses, he simply nods, drooping back into the couch and staring down at the floor with a short sigh. He waves Hugh off after a moment, not looking up.
*he leaves and when he comes back he waves a slightly ratty looking notbook at Orwell but doesn't hand it over* There's some empty half pages if we need them. I'm out of the stuff I use to write letters and this book is actually a little important.
/Though he doesn't perk up much, he at least does a little, looking up at Hugh with a decidedly morose expression. He gives a half-shrug, not making any move to grab the notebook just yet.
*he pauses and stares down at Orwell, frowning* I feel I should be having more fun with this.
/If he wouldn't have caught himself, he would've flicked you off again, Hugh. As it stands, he still did this sort of half-jerk motion that should really be giving away what he was planning. With a second or two of internal debate, he decides to just flop back, staring once more at the ceiling with a morose look on his face.
And I should probably not even feel inclined to help you out with all the threats you felt the need to level against me and the broken bones. I think we are pretty even on that front now. I don't really owe you anything.
/He gives some sort of short breathy noise, and if it wouldn't have been Orwell, it might've been some kind of sob-ish...thing. He might not even be listening, and it doesn't really seem like he is.
You seem to be taking it badly, perhaps moreso than any time you've been hurt. It's a little impressive really. Just as well I don't really have any reason to wish it on you at the moment. It's not really a look that suits you. *he holds out the book towards him*
/The Engineer doesn't make any move to grab the notebook, fidgeting for a split second before going still again. He'd really like to tell Hugh how this was different than being wounded, but he wasn't really going to do to well at that with the problem considered.
Alright then. *he shrugs then tucks the book under his arm. the teacup is picked back up and he drinks the last of it before heading to the kitchen. The tricky part is deciding if he wants to go back through. In the end he makes another cup of tea and takes it back to his seat. No need to pay Orwell any more attention just yet, if he wants it he can try and get it*
/While Hugh's been gone, Orwell's just gone right on ahead and curled back up. He briefly glances at Hugh when he sits down again, but that's all the recognition his teammate's going to get for the time being, aside from a soft huff.
*unimpressed but not going to comment. He lets Orwell sulk as he drinks and once that is done he doesn't have much to do. He contemplates leaving him to fret while he goes to see Red himself but it seems a good way to make him panic* So you are just going to sulk?
/There's a faint nod and another one of those weird noises, and he buries his head in a pillow for the time being, taking some deep breaths to try and compose himself. The weird smell of hair--stuff from Rod that rubbed off on aforementioned pillow is not making this any better.
...sit up.
/He shakes his head, tensing up a bit and curling a little tighter. He's really not planning on moving, that's clear.
*he gets up and approaches the sofa, after a little hesitation he reaches out and rests a hand on Orwell's shoulder*
/Orwell shudders at the touch, staying where he is just like he'd been intending. If there wouldn't have been a problem, Hugh probably would've been able to hear some muttering. As it stands, there's just silence punctuated with a muffled sniff.
The offer still stands to leave you to it.
/He sits up gradually, biting his lip as he tries getting himself back to sorts. He runs his fingers through his hair before combing it into place, doing his best to not directly look at Hugh. He's more than a bit ashamed right now, and it's fairly obvious.
This is not the end of the world and it's possible that you'll be fine again in no time *with Orwell upright he sits down next to him*
/Orwell mouths something along the lines of 'what if', fiddling with the rolled-up cuff of his sleeve. It's better than making eye contact, particularly right now.
*he does not know what he said but judging by how sullen he is still he guesses that it's nothing positive* Shut up.
/He cringes a little at that, sparing Hugh the obvious retort. It wasn't like he was very up for it at the moment, either. He remains still for the most part, still idly picking at his cuff and staring at his shoes.
*he watches him for a few moments before letting out a sigh* I don't really know what you want from me right now.
/A shrug. He isn't sure himself, but he sort of feels a little better with somebody else around; this is likely due to the fact that there's at least a chance somebody would notice if something happened. He rubs his eyes, letting his other hand fall to his lap before he chances a quick glance at the Sniper.
It is possible that everyone is going to be stumped when we speak to them about it but if it will help you won't be left alone while everything is being worked out.
/Orwell gives a short nod, wrinkling his nose begrudgingly. He looks around a little for the notebook, doing his best to ignore the slight nervous shakes he's got.
*at first he just watches him, it takes a few moments for things to click and for it to occur to him what Orwell might be looking for* Need paper?
/Another nod. He doesn't even shoot Hugh the snarky look he normally would've this time, instead watching him almost warily.
*he produces the book again and flips though until he finds a mostly empty page, he retrieves a pencil and draws a line under his own writing before handing it over.*
/After a relieved sigh, Orwell starts writing again, sticking his tongue out just a little for a moment.| 'I would rather not be alone. I cannot exactly call for help in the event of anything.'
*reads along as he writes and then nods* Would you want anyone in particular?
'Not Scout.' /That didn't even get a pause.
*snort* not him, not me, not Heavy?
'You are'-- /He stops, frowning at Hugh for a moment and tapping the tip of the pencil against the paper./ --'moderately acceptable. Heavy, however, is certainly not applicable.'
*eyebrow raise* And you wouldn't mind the idea of killing me, those two must be in for a terrible time.
'Hush.' /That was definitely written quickly.| 'You have provided me with a method of communication, and that places you a little higher than you were beforehand. That, and I do not believe you would try to kill me.' /He tried making all of that small enough to where it wouldn't take up a lot of room while still being legible. It had slightly mixed results.
*he's squinting a bit at the writing but he can make out enough to get the jist of it.* Killing you wouldn't do wither of us any favors. Even so, I have been done with killing you for quite some time now.
'Really.' /Have the flattest look possible, Hugh. The doubt is strong with this one.
Since our walk in the desert and even if you had taken me up on the idea of a fight after... in the respawn room I still probably wouldn't have killed you had I won. You don't need to believe me, I'm just tired of doing something so ultimately pointless. Should I ever feel the inclination to fight for fun there are people to do that with.
/He frowns, just tapping the eraser on the paper for a few seconds as he tries thinking of what to 'say' next. He eventually gives up and shrugs again, grimacing a bit now.
Generally speaking though; you're pretty decent in a scrap. You're younger and you're taller and more substantial than I am. It makes for a challenge.
/And there's the smugness. That only took some effort to get back out!| 'I am not some twig to be broken. If there were no weapons involved, I would certainly be able to take you.'
Oh really? *eyebrow raise* Because I'm pretty sure I remember being able to pin you down.
'A fluke.' /He punctuates that with a snort, shaking his head.| 'You are welcome to try again.' /He cramped that last word in the edge of the page, trying to conserve some space.
*snort* I'm sure twenty years of experience had nothing to do with it. Even so, what if you did lose again? You get so stubborn; it could leave you stuck for a long time again.
'I would not. Perhaps you have not considered that I may have let you win prior to this?' /He crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow at him. This is a pretty good distraction, if this is any indication. Good job, Hugh.| 'And maybe I was not actually trying.'
*he seems increasingly amused as he looks between the book and the engineer* Considering the nonsense you spouted afterwards I would not actually say that is a good thing to suggest.
'Tosh.' /That would've been a chuckle, and he stops abruptly when there's no sound. His only response to that is pulling a face and getting the pencil better in hand.| 'We can always give it another go later to prove the point.'
*he lets out a little amused huff* Just a friendly punch-up hmm?
'It would be something to do, in any case. And I can always put up a Dispenser afterward.' /He shrugs a bit, resting both hands on the edge of the table and fixing Hugh with an appraising look.
*he returns his gaze, Orwell does seem a whole lot less worried now* I just hope you are fine with losing again.
'Oh, please. As if I would let you win again.' /That could count as a grin.| 'You think too highly of yourself in this case.'
You might *nod* and I suppose it would be interesting to see what happens when you really win. I didn't exactly fight you last time.
'No, you did not. We should try this when this problem's fixed, I think.' /He smirks, leaning back a bit and looking far too smug. After a moment's thought, he goes back to writing, biting his lip a little as he scrawls out the words.| 'Or we could try it now, really. I am not particular.'
I would certainly give it a shot. *they wouldn't have the banter, Orwell would not be able to cry uncle but the temptation was there anyway* Could just get up and take this outside.
/Instead of writing a response, Orwell only raises an eyebrow, considering for a moment before a wide grin spreads across his face. He stands up swiftly, setting the notebook and pencil down on the table before brushing imagined dust off of his shirt as he moved toward the door. Giving a wide gesture to usher Hugh along, he paused, staring at the Sniper expectantly as he waited.
*he laughs to cover how he startled at Orwell's apparent enthusiasm* I'll take that as a yes then. *well, time to get up and follow him out then*
/He takes his PDA out a little before they actually get outside, passing it back and forth between his hands as he moves. The code for a Dispenser is punched in as soon as he steps out of the building, and the resulting toolbox is set up close enough to easily get to, but far enough away from the general clearing to where it would be a bit difficult to run into it while they spar. All of that being done, he stretches, turning to face Hugh and cracking his knuckles. He's saying something at the moment--probably along the lines of 'whenever you're ready'.
Someone is keen. *he still seems more amused than anything* Well, I suppose I am ready when you are. *shrug. The dispenser is up, everything should be fine.*
/Whatever banter he's trying to communicate, it's not exactly working. Still, he brings his fists up, cautiously circling Hugh before stepping in and trying to hit the Sniper's shoulder with his first punch just to test the waters.
*he turns to keep facing Orwell as he circles, tension building as he goes. Then there is a fist heading his way. He moves but it still glances off his shoulder but now that a punch has been thrown he can somewhat relax into things. In return he aims to hit Orwell in the gut*
/That lands a hit, and his grin only widens while he recovers. It's not much longer before he tries catching Hugh's jaw with an uppercut, opting for going right ahead with actual fighting instead of more testing blows.
*that hurts and it clacks his teeth together but he doesn't much mind. He moves back a bit as he rubs at his jaw then gestures for Orwell to come at his again.*
/He does so willingly, giving a bit of a little hop before he lunges in to return the hit to his stomach with as much force as he can manage. He isn't going to admit that he almost tripped on the way, but that's for another time.
*he waits for Orwell to move and as the arm comes towards him he grabs Orwell's wrist and moves back, pulling hard. if he can get him to stumble, good. If he can get him to faceplant, even better*
/That's another thing he isn't going to admit later: he totally fell for that. And fell on his face to boot. To his credit, he pulls himself together quickly, sweeping a leg around to try and knick Hugh's out from under him.
*he does indeed hit the ground, he is able to catch himself well enough that he isn't winded by the impact at least. He laughs and turns back a bit to look at Orwell a grin briefly appearing before he kicks back, not much caring where he gets him*
/A quick roll saved him the force of the impact, and he scrambles up into a crouch in order to begin trying to pin Hugh to the ground. Orwell doesn't seem to realize that all his witty little comments are going unheard, but he's still trying anyway.
*he grunts as he feels Orwell's weight on him and after a bit of struggling to properly brace himself he tries to shove him back away*
/The first few shoves almost throw him off, but he doubles down and puts as much effort as possible into grinding Hugh into the dirt a bit to hold him in place. Somebody certainly looks smug--and won't stop trying to talk, either.
What was that? *he doesn't seem too bothered by his current situation*
/That was something along the lines of 'who's the loser now', though it possibly could've been something else. He gloats for a second before pulling back and punching Hugh in the face, aiming for his nose.
*he isn't able to avoid that but at least he does have the freedom to hit back and shove him again, ignoring the hot, numb feeling spreading across his face.*
/He's briefly sent reeling by the hit, though he swings forward instead of back. His next tactic is to use that to try and score another hit, shoving one of the Sniper's arms into the ground as best he can with his free hand.
*he has to take the next blow but he struggles and kicks and bucks and shoves at him again*
/Orwell's clearly laughing, silent as it may be. He digs his knee into Hugh's stomach in retaliation for the struggling, forgoing any more punches in favor of simply holding his teammate down.
*he grunts but stops struggling for the time being, instead letting out a huff*
/The Engineer doesn't let go, looming over Hugh with the most smug damn grin. He raises an eyebrow at the huff, settling down into a relaxed sit on top of his teammate.
Oh shut up *that is the only answer that eyebrow raise is getting*
/That would've been a snicker. He releases Hugh's arms, crossing his own over his chest and sitting up before fixing him with an expectant look. He's waiting, Sniper.
*okay then, he'll grab the front of Orwell's shirt and yank him back down towards him before attempting to roll then again.*
/That works surprisingly well--or not, considering the fact that he was gloating in the first place. He tries kicking Hugh off of him first, aiming for the other BLU's gut and pushing back against him all the while.
*it is quite a scramble to get on top securely enough that the kicking legs are less of a problem, still he is going to have some bruises across his stomach later. Then there is the upper half of him to deal with and he doesn't much want to be shoved around. He aims to backhand the other man*
/Orwell swings a hand up as soon as he worms it free, blocking the slap just barely. He tries sitting up, shoving Hugh back as best he can with the intent to get him on his back again.
*Hugh is not even entirely against going down again, it helps build up some momentum with them and he just tries to roll them again. The constant changing of positions is exhilarating*
/The next roll happens easily, with Orwell not having any time to try and secure Hugh while he's got the chance. He manages some sort of noise, though it certainly isn't any call for giving in--he tries punching Hugh immediately after, not particularly caring where he aims this time.
*it hits his chest and he lets out a small, pained huff before grabbing the offending hand and pushing it down against the ground. His other hand resting against Orwell's other arm as he tries to secure his position a bit better and catch his breath*
/Resisting that second hold is the most important thing right now. He swings a knee up again, trying to get Hugh in a more sensitive area this time. He's starting to get a bit less concerted and a bit more...flailing, but he's at least trying.
*it catches him more in the ass than anyplace else but it sets off enough alarm bells that he scoots up to straddle his hips* Low blow.
/That counts as a shrug, hopefully. Orwell doesn't look ashamed about the tactic at all, even giving a snort as he tries pushing Hugh off to the side.
*he is a little unbalanced as a result but shoves back and leans forward a bit, putting as much weight as he can on that wrist and arm*
/That gets him to arch his back, and he freezes for a moment, cursing as he squirms under the other man. He kicks a few more times, still trying that even though he isn't so sure it'll work.
Seems to me like we could keep this up a long time. *he does his best to keep still* As soon as I let you go you can turn this around again.
/He gives a few quick nods, the grin settling back into place. This whole spar was certainly a good way to take his mind off of current problems--and a bit of unintentional training wasn't ever a bad thing, either. He mouths a short phrase, hoping that it's at least somewhat intelligible as 'call it a tie'. If not, well.
*Hugh doesn't understand what he is trying to say at all and tilts his head a little to the side.* You certainly seem pleased with the results. Far better than some of our other fights. Maybe we should do ones we both agree to more often, see if that reduces the number of honestly angry fights.
/He rolls his eyes when he's not understood, though there's still a lingering smirk. He doesn't seem offput by the fact that Hugh didn't get what he said and instead continues, mostly just trying to see if anything gets through. At the end of a small tirade, he nods again, looking fairly pleased.
*he is silently bemused by the whole speech and waits until Orwell has finished before he speaks again.* I'll take that as a yes then.
/Another snort. Yes, that'll do, Hugh. He pushes a bit at Hugh's chest, trying to get him off without initiating any more combat.
*it's gentle and slow enough that it doesn't set off any need to retaliate and he lets go of Orwell's arms though he doesn't get off his just yet, instead reaching up to touch his face and check the damage, his nose still doesn't feel right and there's some blood but he can live with that.*
/He pops his neck, sitting up and dusting himself off a bit preemptively. Raising an eyebrow at the blood on Hugh's face, he points toward the Dispenser, soon rubbing his stomach with a slight frown. He at least looks happy, so Hugh can expect no assault in return.
*it takes him a few moments to work out how to stand up gracefully and avoid head-butting Orwell in the process, once he is up he others him a hand*
/There's just a moment of hesitation before he takes the offered hand, though Hugh is not spared a quick look of appraisal in the meantime. Unfortunately for him, he left the notebook inside--he'll just have to try communicating via simpler means, then. The BLU lightly pushes Hugh again, this time toward the Dispenser. That's enough of a hint for him, really.
*that he understands well enough and he lets go in order to head over to stand by the dispenser. Once it comes to life he leans against it, the healing beams coming as a relief* Happy now?
/Have another huff, Hugh. He crosses his arms with a nod, relaxing a bit now that any passers-by wouldn't get any wrong assumptions. Orwell moves over to lean on the Dispenser himself, drumming his fingers on the top casing as he lets the machine do its work.
So I suppose we are reasonably well matched in a fight. It almost makes it a shame we are on the same team. I'm sure you would be an interesting fight once we get back to real battles. *he pauses to look at Orwell then reaches out to brush some of the dust off of his back* You are filthy.
/He looks smug for a few seconds, the smirk changing to a sort of half-pout as he waves away Hugh's hand. The next action he takes is to shrug his uniform shirt off, shaking most of the dirt off before smoothing it out on the Dispenser and brushing off the remainder. He glances up at Hugh during this, making a face.
*both eyebrows go up a bit as he watches him* I'd suggest not doing that for everything else that has gotten dusty. *and while he had felt the need to point out the state Orwell was in he looks no better but he doesn't make a move to brush anything off at all*
/He scoffs, tugging a little on the edge of his t-shirt to get it back to sorts. The other shirt is temporarily left off, mostly just for the sake of not wearing it. He waggled his eyebrows at Hugh, mostly just to get a rise out of him before cracking up. There was no way he was going to just strip, and Orwell was going to make sure Hugh got that. With some harassment involved, of course.
Yes, yes, not enough drinks in you for that. *snorts then wipes at his face again as if that alone would get rid of the dried blood* Need a shower later.
/He shoots Hugh an incredulous glance, not particularly pleased about the fact that he's unable to say that snarky comment in response. To try and soften that irritation, he tries mouthing it--'I'm not helping'. Way to go, Orwell.
*he pulls a face at him in response* Still don't know what you are saying.
/Cue an exasperated sigh. He tried, and that's what counts. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he shakes his head, waving off the comment.
At the very least I am going to wash off the blood, get changed, it's not a conversation I want to have. You can settle back down in the common room I suppose.
/He pulls a face at that; perhaps moping isn't what he wants to wind up doing, however much he still feels like it. His other PDA finds its way to his hand, and he pushes off of the Dispenser, finger hovering over the button as he waits for some form of approval or disapproval from his teammate.
*he frowns and steps away from the dispenser* So what were you pulling that face for?
/When Hugh's away from the machine, he presses the button, snerking a bit when it explodes. He gets an idea now--shoving the button into his pocket, he bends down and picks up a relatively safe piece of metal. He then begins scratching something in the dirt, doing his best to make it legible. All it is is the word 'mope', and he looks up at Hugh, shaking his head a little more. He then proceeds to dig an x over the word, hoping that got his point across.
Oh, well we don't really want more of that. That said there is a certain degree of needing to leave you alone, just for ten minutes or so communal showers or not.
/Another nod, this time with an eye roll added. He would've said something about stating the obvious, but he didn't feel like writing all of that out in the dirt. The piece of metal is tossed into the heart of the pile, and Orwell straightens up, smudging what he wrote out with a sweep of his foot. Being left alone for a few minutes is something he can deal with, anyway.
And I can fix you another drink before I head off. *shrug*
/A pause. The first one hadn't had any poison in it, and he hadn't really gotten to finish it. That, and something to drink sounded nice right now, warm or not. Orwell nods, giving just a tiny smile by means of appreciation.
Actually, you go, clean yourself up. You'll have something ready for you when you’re done and you won't be filling up the furniture with dust while you're stuck waiting. *looks him over* You're a state.
/Orwell tucks his uniform shirt under his arm, frowning at the remaining dirt on it before picking at it a bit. The plan seemed like a reasonable enough plan, and he couldn't exactly argue with having stuff done for him. That was how he'd gotten out here in the first place, after all. He nods once more, making a mental note to go and grab the notebook on his way to the showers.
Well alright then, let’s go. *he pats Orwell's shoulder on the way past as he heads in, cups were collected and taken to the kitchen.*
/He didn't jump too much at the contact and carries on through the kitchen to the common room, scooping up the notebook as he begins heading toward his room. He's going to have to get a change of clothes first--just a clean t-shirt and a new pair of jeans, he figures. Orwell pulls a face at the large BLU logo on the shirt, deciding that there isn't much he can do about it as he walks toward the showers. Might as well deal with it.
*Some of the dirt and blood is washed away and dishes are done. He makes up more tea, just the one cup for Orwell which he takes through and puts down on the table. He doesn't sit down and instead stands and waits on him coming back*
/Eventually, Orwell shows back up, still slightly damp and picking slightly at the company logo on his shirt. The notebook's in his hands and appears perfectly dry, with the Engineer having gone out of his way to make sure it didn't get sodden. He brushes a few strands of hair back into place, preemptively opening the notebook up in order to reply to whatever Hugh might say.
*he gestures at the cup before he notices Orwell opening the book, there is a moment where he seems tense.* Just be sure to pick out a page that's mostly empty.
/While flipping, he takes a moment to read a bit of Hugh's handwriting, squinting at it when it seems somewhat familiar. Eh, that wasn't exactly something to be concerned about.| 'I am aware. What now, though?'
You just wait for ten minutes while I get myself sorted. You have a drink on the table. *he steps over towards the door* and that won't make for very good reading.
/Nearing the table, Orwell swaps the notebook for the teacup and takes a sip, settling into the couch a few seconds after. He gets comfortable, giving a slight shrug as Hugh moves for the door.
*he leaves to get cleaned up and into some fresh clothes. The only downside is being back in one of his work shirts rather than the one he had taken from Remi. Once he was back in the common room he spoke* Everything still okay?
/Judging from the fact that he isn't freaking out, all is well. He gives a small wave with his pinky as he takes another sip, clearly feeling better than he was the first time Hugh walked in on him.
Ponse *snorts then sits down at the one end of the sofa* Good to see you have cheered up a bit at least.
/He lowers the teacup for a moment, sticking his tongue out in response. It's true that he doesn't feel quite so bad for the moment, but that might not be very long-lasting, he figures. Having to communicate nonverbally sucked.
*he pulls a face back at him in return before returning to his usual neutral expression* So when it comes down to it would you want me to talk on your behalf? Mediate? Let you do your own thing?
/Tilting his head, he thinks for a second, soon placing the cup back on the table before he fiddles with the notebook.| 'Perhaps one of the Spies can read lips. While I have no issue with you being around, it would conserve paper.'
Miss Spy speaks several languages, perhaps she can read lips as well, perhaps she has more paper even. Remi... I'm not so sure of, some spies are not particularly gifted in languages. I only started to learn a second language on the job. *hmm* Really she would probably be your best bet.
/Another shrug.| 'Possibly. Though I am not sure if she would be willing to help.' /He taps the eraser on the notebook, chewing on his lip.| 'I do not think I would be the best person to ask her.'
*he laughed when he read the full thing* She is the most determined person I know when it comes to trying to get people on this team getting along. You're a tough case but she does want to help you.
'I don't know.' /He grimaces, scratching the side of his jaw before continuing.| 'It's not as if I was particularly...positive.'
She doesn't grudge you much for anything as far as I know. We have had some need to talk about you before but really, be polite when you ask her for help and she will listen.
/Orwell sets the pencil down, just watching Hugh instead. If there's any suggestions Hugh has for properly dealing with Spy, his teammate certainly wouldn't mind.
She really isn't hard to deal with most of the time. Most of my troubles with her were cross team politics and since that should not be an issue for you two you should be fine. She will probably be surprised that you want to talk but I really doubt she will object. Offer to make her coffee if you really feel the urge to butter her up. She likes improvement and no doubt she would consider that an attitude improvement.
/He sits up, twirling the pencil between his fingers a few times before he actually writes anything down. On the plus side, he actually gets some time to think out his responses before he says them.| 'Oh, yes. I want to talk when I cannot.' /A snrk.| 'Regardless, it should be an...interesting conversation. One-sided, but.'
The good thing about your predicament is you can write what you want to say ahead of time and it can give anyone a good understanding of exactly what is going on within a minute. No need to fumble though a conversation explaining everything. *he reaches out then and taps his arm* And while you may have a lot to say still you should really try to conserve the paper. We shouldn't want to put you at the point where you need to write in the margins of actual books.
/The tap earns a brief pause, and Orwell lets Hugh continue, grimacing somewhat at mention of writing in books. That isn't part of the plan at all, no.| 'I should see how much I can get across without writing.' /It would be worth the effort, really. Orwell takes another sip of tea, still holding the pencil at the ready.
Write what you need to. I'm sorry that it does make this talk a whole lot more difficult and I'd rather not talk your ear off with a whole lot of nonsense. Still, it's been pleasant... but perhaps I'd not be saying that if I could understand half of what you were saying, hmm? *eyebrow raise*
/This time, he responds with a silent 'oh, hush' and a wave of his hand. Better to save paper on that instead of penning that, anyway. He tucks the pencil behind his ear, returning Hugh's eyebrow raise with one of his own.
*that was easy enough to understand and he snorts. He settles back into his corner of the sofa.* I'm sure things will go well with the others when you are ready to talk to them.
/'When?' He'd rather do it sooner than later, but at the same time, dealing with the lot of them and all the lowly curs involved didn't seem like such a fun idea, especially in his state. On the plus side, he'd have some form of mediator, with any luck. The Engineer goes ahead and finishes off his cup, giving a light huff as he leans back into the cushions.
*he was quiet, not entirely sure of what else to say. The empty cup was picked up and he took it away to get cleaned. Once he came back through he lent on the back of the sofa behind Orwell.*
/The BLU stretches a little more, looking up to give Hugh a vaguely confused look that fades as the pencil slips out of place. He almost caught it, but it wasn't that big of a deal--the object is soon fished from the couch and placed beside the notebook, with Orwell flipping the latter shut gently. He isn't particularly sure what to do now himself; going out and working on his machines was out of the question unless he had some form of signal in the event of a robot attack, but at the same time, he didn't want to just sit around. This translated into a bit of fidgeting, smothered down as soon as he noticed what he was doing.
*he reaches out to touch his shoulder once he notices the fidgeting* So I suppose the question is do you want to try hunting anyone down right now? If not I'll still be around, as I said you're not going to be left alone for long while this is a problem.
/He makes a downward stabbing motion with his hand, imitating a backstab as best he can. Next, the BLU logo on his shirt is tapped with a finger, and he stares up at Hugh, hoping what he meant had been understood. There were more ways he could make it clear, but those were probably just rude and/or overly disrespectful. And lewd, but he wasn't going to even go there.
Miss Spy it is then. Will you want me with you?
/He pauses for a few seconds, eventually just giving a shrug. Hugh would at least be useful in the event of anything needing to be defused, though that was not particularly likely to happen--beyond that, having somebody else along was just a good idea in the first place, given the problem. He tries communicating that it's up to his teammate, pulling a face at how pointless all those hand gestures seem.
When: April 11th
Where: Common room and Outside
what: Getting along, fighting for fun, some kind of witchcraft and making plans.
/as it stands, he's just going to flop in the couch and curl up into a slightly condensed ball. he's not particularly willing to be roaming around the place, and this is the best place for him to sit, he figures.
*he does his best to avoid Orwell and normally seeing him in the common room would be his cue to get out but he didn't normally see him curled up in a ball aside from occasionally on the respawn room floor. He approaches the sofa and leans on the back to look down at him* Bad respawn?
/All Hugh's getting for the moment is a nod. He fidgets a bit, biting his lip and looking perhaps a bit uncomfortable. Orwell huffs after a few seconds of silence, looking up at Hugh with a clearly disgruntled frown.
*he stares back at him, brows coming together in a frown* Do you need some painkillers or something?
/At first, he opens his mouth, expression turning even more irritated when nothing comes out. Instead, he just shakes his head, balling his hands into fists.
*okay, now he actually looks somewhat concerned* Calm down, I was just asking.
/He's mouthing something, and if he would've been doing it slower, it would've been more intelligible as something along the lines of 'I can't talk'. He's not happy, that's clear.
*he's no expect at lip reading but the lack of words he can hear is pretty jarring* Well that's new. Any respawn sickness past that?"
/Just. The flattest look ever, Hugh. After a second, he nods, crossing his arms and leaning back into the couch with a dark frown.
Well you weren't interested in anything for pain. I thought I'd be sure, there's no need to give me that look.
/Whatever it is he's trying to say, it clearly has violent connotations. When he's done with that, he goes ahead and flicks Hugh off, wiggling a bit to get more comfortable.
Yes Orwell, I'll keep that in mind. *he tilts his head a little to the side* I'm going to get a drink, tea, do you want a cup?
/He scowls at his teammate, giving another sigh before reluctantly nodding. Might as well, even if he doesn't seem particularly enthused.
Really twisting your arm over it aren't I? *still he stops leaning on the sofa and heads through to the kitchen. Once he is done making the drinks he comes back and puts one cup down on the coffee table* One cup of hot poison sir.
/Orwell looks back and forth between the cup and Hugh for a few seconds, eventually raising an eyebrow with a slight frown.
*he copies his expression* It was a joke.
/Aaaand round two for flicking you off, Hugh. At least he takes a sip, cringing a little when it's slightly hotter than expected.
*he just seems amused and settles down on a different chair with his own cup* It's not going to kill you but it is hot.
/He rolls his eyes, putting the cup back down after an added second of holding it in the air. He's trying to say something about respawn, though he's doing really poorly at actually...saying what it is. Vocally, anyway.
...I really can't read lips. Have you considered writing things down?
/He turns both of his palms toward the ceiling, fixing Hugh with an unamused stare. After a moment, he shrugs, still visibly agitated.
If you need paper for something important I do have some.
/He's clearly thinking on this, a scowl settling on his face at the suggestion. Orwell is not particularly fond of the idea of accepting help, especially not with this. He doesn't really have too much of a choice, however--when he's done thinking out some sort of backwards reasoning for why he should, he gives a hesitant nod, looking almost ashamed.
I have a notebook somewhere, it should have a few empty pages in it still. *takes a sip of his tea then puts it down on the table* I'll be back soon.
*and he's off and right enough it does not take long to locate said book, finding blank pages it a little more difficult but when he comes back he has a couple to offer him alongside a pencil* You won't be able to have much of a conversation but you'll be able to write down something important if you need to.
/The first thing he writes is a medium-sized 'fuck you' in the middle of the page. That being done, he looks back up at Hugh with an uninterested frown.
I'm sure that was paper well used. *he goes to sit back down again and resume his tea drinking*
/A nod./ 'It had to be said. This bloody sucks, anyway.'
*he did have to lean over to read that* I suppose it's different when you are just choosing not to talk to anyone.
'Are you just now figuring that out? I literally cannot speak.' /A snort. He takes another sip, watching Hugh now.
No, I understood that much but really most people won't notice unless you have taken to talking to them a lot while I wasn't paying attention.
'Please do shut up.' /He drums his fingers on the table, scowling./ 'This is a problem, and it needs to be fixed.'
*gestures like he is zipping his mouth shut then has a sip of tea*
/After a long silent period involving constant staring at Hugh, he fidgets uncomfortably, tugging the notepad back over./ 'That is not what I meant.'
Alright, alright. I don't know much about the respawn system really. At least I don't know how it works.I take it you tried going through respawn again? Just nod or shake your head.
/A nod. He holds up three fingers afterward, doing his best not to look queasy at the thought of respawning with minimal success.
RED Engineer may be one of your best bets to talk about it with. Perhaps Medic and if all else fails the Civilian though I do hear he does not much care for you.
/Judging from the snarl on his face at mention of the Civilian, the feeling is mutual./ 'I would rather this be dealt with quickly. Perhaps the Engineer is the ideal choice for this, being that it deals with respawn.'
Just bear in mind he may well not be able to fix you. I know he had done repair work on the machines before though so if there is something wrong with the machine itself hopefully that will get sorted out. *sighs and lens back* Just trying to think if he is free at the moment. *admittedly he is not in much of a rush to get Orwell fixed, the quiet /is/ nice*
/For a few seconds, there's silent angry cursing directed at Hugh, along with some frustrated hand gestures that seem to involve strangulation at one point. When he writes, it's in hard, dark letters.| 'He had better be able to.'
*leans against the arm of the chair to watch some of Orwell's more interesting gesturing* For all I can't hear you I'm pretty sure that nothing you are saying is all that nice. If you like I could leave you to sort all this out on your own terms.
/That's a very clear 'no', and he almost looks panicked for a split second, sitting up straight and almost fumbling the pencil as he tries getting the words down.| 'That will not be necessary.' /It's moderately legible, which is saying something considering how quickly he wrote that down.
*he has to squint a bit to read the note* Well, Red is free a lot of the time he isn't watching for the robots and he's a patient man. If you do need to speak with him on your own I'm sure he will put up with note writing.
/At this point, he's starting to run out of room on the page. He looks a bit nervous about this, glancing back and forth between the paper and Hugh with an uncomfortable expression in his face. He eventually relents and takes another sip of tea, still thinking on what to say.
*he looks down at the page* If need be I may be able to scrounge up something else, if I had a rubber this would be a little easier. As it is take your time, there's no rush.
/He's 'talking' again, though it's a bit more hesitant than before. Whatever it is, he cuts himself off, biting his lip and folding his hands over his lap. Orwell watches Hugh almost expectantly, fidgeting slightly in place.
... *stands up* Stay put, drink your tea. I'll see what I can find, you going to be alright with that?
/Instead of trying any more verbal responses, he simply nods, drooping back into the couch and staring down at the floor with a short sigh. He waves Hugh off after a moment, not looking up.
*he leaves and when he comes back he waves a slightly ratty looking notbook at Orwell but doesn't hand it over* There's some empty half pages if we need them. I'm out of the stuff I use to write letters and this book is actually a little important.
/Though he doesn't perk up much, he at least does a little, looking up at Hugh with a decidedly morose expression. He gives a half-shrug, not making any move to grab the notebook just yet.
*he pauses and stares down at Orwell, frowning* I feel I should be having more fun with this.
/If he wouldn't have caught himself, he would've flicked you off again, Hugh. As it stands, he still did this sort of half-jerk motion that should really be giving away what he was planning. With a second or two of internal debate, he decides to just flop back, staring once more at the ceiling with a morose look on his face.
And I should probably not even feel inclined to help you out with all the threats you felt the need to level against me and the broken bones. I think we are pretty even on that front now. I don't really owe you anything.
/He gives some sort of short breathy noise, and if it wouldn't have been Orwell, it might've been some kind of sob-ish...thing. He might not even be listening, and it doesn't really seem like he is.
You seem to be taking it badly, perhaps moreso than any time you've been hurt. It's a little impressive really. Just as well I don't really have any reason to wish it on you at the moment. It's not really a look that suits you. *he holds out the book towards him*
/The Engineer doesn't make any move to grab the notebook, fidgeting for a split second before going still again. He'd really like to tell Hugh how this was different than being wounded, but he wasn't really going to do to well at that with the problem considered.
Alright then. *he shrugs then tucks the book under his arm. the teacup is picked back up and he drinks the last of it before heading to the kitchen. The tricky part is deciding if he wants to go back through. In the end he makes another cup of tea and takes it back to his seat. No need to pay Orwell any more attention just yet, if he wants it he can try and get it*
/While Hugh's been gone, Orwell's just gone right on ahead and curled back up. He briefly glances at Hugh when he sits down again, but that's all the recognition his teammate's going to get for the time being, aside from a soft huff.
*unimpressed but not going to comment. He lets Orwell sulk as he drinks and once that is done he doesn't have much to do. He contemplates leaving him to fret while he goes to see Red himself but it seems a good way to make him panic* So you are just going to sulk?
/There's a faint nod and another one of those weird noises, and he buries his head in a pillow for the time being, taking some deep breaths to try and compose himself. The weird smell of hair--stuff from Rod that rubbed off on aforementioned pillow is not making this any better.
...sit up.
/He shakes his head, tensing up a bit and curling a little tighter. He's really not planning on moving, that's clear.
*he gets up and approaches the sofa, after a little hesitation he reaches out and rests a hand on Orwell's shoulder*
/Orwell shudders at the touch, staying where he is just like he'd been intending. If there wouldn't have been a problem, Hugh probably would've been able to hear some muttering. As it stands, there's just silence punctuated with a muffled sniff.
The offer still stands to leave you to it.
/He sits up gradually, biting his lip as he tries getting himself back to sorts. He runs his fingers through his hair before combing it into place, doing his best to not directly look at Hugh. He's more than a bit ashamed right now, and it's fairly obvious.
This is not the end of the world and it's possible that you'll be fine again in no time *with Orwell upright he sits down next to him*
/Orwell mouths something along the lines of 'what if', fiddling with the rolled-up cuff of his sleeve. It's better than making eye contact, particularly right now.
*he does not know what he said but judging by how sullen he is still he guesses that it's nothing positive* Shut up.
/He cringes a little at that, sparing Hugh the obvious retort. It wasn't like he was very up for it at the moment, either. He remains still for the most part, still idly picking at his cuff and staring at his shoes.
*he watches him for a few moments before letting out a sigh* I don't really know what you want from me right now.
/A shrug. He isn't sure himself, but he sort of feels a little better with somebody else around; this is likely due to the fact that there's at least a chance somebody would notice if something happened. He rubs his eyes, letting his other hand fall to his lap before he chances a quick glance at the Sniper.
It is possible that everyone is going to be stumped when we speak to them about it but if it will help you won't be left alone while everything is being worked out.
/Orwell gives a short nod, wrinkling his nose begrudgingly. He looks around a little for the notebook, doing his best to ignore the slight nervous shakes he's got.
*at first he just watches him, it takes a few moments for things to click and for it to occur to him what Orwell might be looking for* Need paper?
/Another nod. He doesn't even shoot Hugh the snarky look he normally would've this time, instead watching him almost warily.
*he produces the book again and flips though until he finds a mostly empty page, he retrieves a pencil and draws a line under his own writing before handing it over.*
/After a relieved sigh, Orwell starts writing again, sticking his tongue out just a little for a moment.| 'I would rather not be alone. I cannot exactly call for help in the event of anything.'
*reads along as he writes and then nods* Would you want anyone in particular?
'Not Scout.' /That didn't even get a pause.
*snort* not him, not me, not Heavy?
'You are'-- /He stops, frowning at Hugh for a moment and tapping the tip of the pencil against the paper./ --'moderately acceptable. Heavy, however, is certainly not applicable.'
*eyebrow raise* And you wouldn't mind the idea of killing me, those two must be in for a terrible time.
'Hush.' /That was definitely written quickly.| 'You have provided me with a method of communication, and that places you a little higher than you were beforehand. That, and I do not believe you would try to kill me.' /He tried making all of that small enough to where it wouldn't take up a lot of room while still being legible. It had slightly mixed results.
*he's squinting a bit at the writing but he can make out enough to get the jist of it.* Killing you wouldn't do wither of us any favors. Even so, I have been done with killing you for quite some time now.
'Really.' /Have the flattest look possible, Hugh. The doubt is strong with this one.
Since our walk in the desert and even if you had taken me up on the idea of a fight after... in the respawn room I still probably wouldn't have killed you had I won. You don't need to believe me, I'm just tired of doing something so ultimately pointless. Should I ever feel the inclination to fight for fun there are people to do that with.
/He frowns, just tapping the eraser on the paper for a few seconds as he tries thinking of what to 'say' next. He eventually gives up and shrugs again, grimacing a bit now.
Generally speaking though; you're pretty decent in a scrap. You're younger and you're taller and more substantial than I am. It makes for a challenge.
/And there's the smugness. That only took some effort to get back out!| 'I am not some twig to be broken. If there were no weapons involved, I would certainly be able to take you.'
Oh really? *eyebrow raise* Because I'm pretty sure I remember being able to pin you down.
'A fluke.' /He punctuates that with a snort, shaking his head.| 'You are welcome to try again.' /He cramped that last word in the edge of the page, trying to conserve some space.
*snort* I'm sure twenty years of experience had nothing to do with it. Even so, what if you did lose again? You get so stubborn; it could leave you stuck for a long time again.
'I would not. Perhaps you have not considered that I may have let you win prior to this?' /He crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow at him. This is a pretty good distraction, if this is any indication. Good job, Hugh.| 'And maybe I was not actually trying.'
*he seems increasingly amused as he looks between the book and the engineer* Considering the nonsense you spouted afterwards I would not actually say that is a good thing to suggest.
'Tosh.' /That would've been a chuckle, and he stops abruptly when there's no sound. His only response to that is pulling a face and getting the pencil better in hand.| 'We can always give it another go later to prove the point.'
*he lets out a little amused huff* Just a friendly punch-up hmm?
'It would be something to do, in any case. And I can always put up a Dispenser afterward.' /He shrugs a bit, resting both hands on the edge of the table and fixing Hugh with an appraising look.
*he returns his gaze, Orwell does seem a whole lot less worried now* I just hope you are fine with losing again.
'Oh, please. As if I would let you win again.' /That could count as a grin.| 'You think too highly of yourself in this case.'
You might *nod* and I suppose it would be interesting to see what happens when you really win. I didn't exactly fight you last time.
'No, you did not. We should try this when this problem's fixed, I think.' /He smirks, leaning back a bit and looking far too smug. After a moment's thought, he goes back to writing, biting his lip a little as he scrawls out the words.| 'Or we could try it now, really. I am not particular.'
I would certainly give it a shot. *they wouldn't have the banter, Orwell would not be able to cry uncle but the temptation was there anyway* Could just get up and take this outside.
/Instead of writing a response, Orwell only raises an eyebrow, considering for a moment before a wide grin spreads across his face. He stands up swiftly, setting the notebook and pencil down on the table before brushing imagined dust off of his shirt as he moved toward the door. Giving a wide gesture to usher Hugh along, he paused, staring at the Sniper expectantly as he waited.
*he laughs to cover how he startled at Orwell's apparent enthusiasm* I'll take that as a yes then. *well, time to get up and follow him out then*
/He takes his PDA out a little before they actually get outside, passing it back and forth between his hands as he moves. The code for a Dispenser is punched in as soon as he steps out of the building, and the resulting toolbox is set up close enough to easily get to, but far enough away from the general clearing to where it would be a bit difficult to run into it while they spar. All of that being done, he stretches, turning to face Hugh and cracking his knuckles. He's saying something at the moment--probably along the lines of 'whenever you're ready'.
Someone is keen. *he still seems more amused than anything* Well, I suppose I am ready when you are. *shrug. The dispenser is up, everything should be fine.*
/Whatever banter he's trying to communicate, it's not exactly working. Still, he brings his fists up, cautiously circling Hugh before stepping in and trying to hit the Sniper's shoulder with his first punch just to test the waters.
*he turns to keep facing Orwell as he circles, tension building as he goes. Then there is a fist heading his way. He moves but it still glances off his shoulder but now that a punch has been thrown he can somewhat relax into things. In return he aims to hit Orwell in the gut*
/That lands a hit, and his grin only widens while he recovers. It's not much longer before he tries catching Hugh's jaw with an uppercut, opting for going right ahead with actual fighting instead of more testing blows.
*that hurts and it clacks his teeth together but he doesn't much mind. He moves back a bit as he rubs at his jaw then gestures for Orwell to come at his again.*
/He does so willingly, giving a bit of a little hop before he lunges in to return the hit to his stomach with as much force as he can manage. He isn't going to admit that he almost tripped on the way, but that's for another time.
*he waits for Orwell to move and as the arm comes towards him he grabs Orwell's wrist and moves back, pulling hard. if he can get him to stumble, good. If he can get him to faceplant, even better*
/That's another thing he isn't going to admit later: he totally fell for that. And fell on his face to boot. To his credit, he pulls himself together quickly, sweeping a leg around to try and knick Hugh's out from under him.
*he does indeed hit the ground, he is able to catch himself well enough that he isn't winded by the impact at least. He laughs and turns back a bit to look at Orwell a grin briefly appearing before he kicks back, not much caring where he gets him*
/A quick roll saved him the force of the impact, and he scrambles up into a crouch in order to begin trying to pin Hugh to the ground. Orwell doesn't seem to realize that all his witty little comments are going unheard, but he's still trying anyway.
*he grunts as he feels Orwell's weight on him and after a bit of struggling to properly brace himself he tries to shove him back away*
/The first few shoves almost throw him off, but he doubles down and puts as much effort as possible into grinding Hugh into the dirt a bit to hold him in place. Somebody certainly looks smug--and won't stop trying to talk, either.
What was that? *he doesn't seem too bothered by his current situation*
/That was something along the lines of 'who's the loser now', though it possibly could've been something else. He gloats for a second before pulling back and punching Hugh in the face, aiming for his nose.
*he isn't able to avoid that but at least he does have the freedom to hit back and shove him again, ignoring the hot, numb feeling spreading across his face.*
/He's briefly sent reeling by the hit, though he swings forward instead of back. His next tactic is to use that to try and score another hit, shoving one of the Sniper's arms into the ground as best he can with his free hand.
*he has to take the next blow but he struggles and kicks and bucks and shoves at him again*
/Orwell's clearly laughing, silent as it may be. He digs his knee into Hugh's stomach in retaliation for the struggling, forgoing any more punches in favor of simply holding his teammate down.
*he grunts but stops struggling for the time being, instead letting out a huff*
/The Engineer doesn't let go, looming over Hugh with the most smug damn grin. He raises an eyebrow at the huff, settling down into a relaxed sit on top of his teammate.
Oh shut up *that is the only answer that eyebrow raise is getting*
/That would've been a snicker. He releases Hugh's arms, crossing his own over his chest and sitting up before fixing him with an expectant look. He's waiting, Sniper.
*okay then, he'll grab the front of Orwell's shirt and yank him back down towards him before attempting to roll then again.*
/That works surprisingly well--or not, considering the fact that he was gloating in the first place. He tries kicking Hugh off of him first, aiming for the other BLU's gut and pushing back against him all the while.
*it is quite a scramble to get on top securely enough that the kicking legs are less of a problem, still he is going to have some bruises across his stomach later. Then there is the upper half of him to deal with and he doesn't much want to be shoved around. He aims to backhand the other man*
/Orwell swings a hand up as soon as he worms it free, blocking the slap just barely. He tries sitting up, shoving Hugh back as best he can with the intent to get him on his back again.
*Hugh is not even entirely against going down again, it helps build up some momentum with them and he just tries to roll them again. The constant changing of positions is exhilarating*
/The next roll happens easily, with Orwell not having any time to try and secure Hugh while he's got the chance. He manages some sort of noise, though it certainly isn't any call for giving in--he tries punching Hugh immediately after, not particularly caring where he aims this time.
*it hits his chest and he lets out a small, pained huff before grabbing the offending hand and pushing it down against the ground. His other hand resting against Orwell's other arm as he tries to secure his position a bit better and catch his breath*
/Resisting that second hold is the most important thing right now. He swings a knee up again, trying to get Hugh in a more sensitive area this time. He's starting to get a bit less concerted and a bit more...flailing, but he's at least trying.
*it catches him more in the ass than anyplace else but it sets off enough alarm bells that he scoots up to straddle his hips* Low blow.
/That counts as a shrug, hopefully. Orwell doesn't look ashamed about the tactic at all, even giving a snort as he tries pushing Hugh off to the side.
*he is a little unbalanced as a result but shoves back and leans forward a bit, putting as much weight as he can on that wrist and arm*
/That gets him to arch his back, and he freezes for a moment, cursing as he squirms under the other man. He kicks a few more times, still trying that even though he isn't so sure it'll work.
Seems to me like we could keep this up a long time. *he does his best to keep still* As soon as I let you go you can turn this around again.
/He gives a few quick nods, the grin settling back into place. This whole spar was certainly a good way to take his mind off of current problems--and a bit of unintentional training wasn't ever a bad thing, either. He mouths a short phrase, hoping that it's at least somewhat intelligible as 'call it a tie'. If not, well.
*Hugh doesn't understand what he is trying to say at all and tilts his head a little to the side.* You certainly seem pleased with the results. Far better than some of our other fights. Maybe we should do ones we both agree to more often, see if that reduces the number of honestly angry fights.
/He rolls his eyes when he's not understood, though there's still a lingering smirk. He doesn't seem offput by the fact that Hugh didn't get what he said and instead continues, mostly just trying to see if anything gets through. At the end of a small tirade, he nods again, looking fairly pleased.
*he is silently bemused by the whole speech and waits until Orwell has finished before he speaks again.* I'll take that as a yes then.
/Another snort. Yes, that'll do, Hugh. He pushes a bit at Hugh's chest, trying to get him off without initiating any more combat.
*it's gentle and slow enough that it doesn't set off any need to retaliate and he lets go of Orwell's arms though he doesn't get off his just yet, instead reaching up to touch his face and check the damage, his nose still doesn't feel right and there's some blood but he can live with that.*
/He pops his neck, sitting up and dusting himself off a bit preemptively. Raising an eyebrow at the blood on Hugh's face, he points toward the Dispenser, soon rubbing his stomach with a slight frown. He at least looks happy, so Hugh can expect no assault in return.
*it takes him a few moments to work out how to stand up gracefully and avoid head-butting Orwell in the process, once he is up he others him a hand*
/There's just a moment of hesitation before he takes the offered hand, though Hugh is not spared a quick look of appraisal in the meantime. Unfortunately for him, he left the notebook inside--he'll just have to try communicating via simpler means, then. The BLU lightly pushes Hugh again, this time toward the Dispenser. That's enough of a hint for him, really.
*that he understands well enough and he lets go in order to head over to stand by the dispenser. Once it comes to life he leans against it, the healing beams coming as a relief* Happy now?
/Have another huff, Hugh. He crosses his arms with a nod, relaxing a bit now that any passers-by wouldn't get any wrong assumptions. Orwell moves over to lean on the Dispenser himself, drumming his fingers on the top casing as he lets the machine do its work.
So I suppose we are reasonably well matched in a fight. It almost makes it a shame we are on the same team. I'm sure you would be an interesting fight once we get back to real battles. *he pauses to look at Orwell then reaches out to brush some of the dust off of his back* You are filthy.
/He looks smug for a few seconds, the smirk changing to a sort of half-pout as he waves away Hugh's hand. The next action he takes is to shrug his uniform shirt off, shaking most of the dirt off before smoothing it out on the Dispenser and brushing off the remainder. He glances up at Hugh during this, making a face.
*both eyebrows go up a bit as he watches him* I'd suggest not doing that for everything else that has gotten dusty. *and while he had felt the need to point out the state Orwell was in he looks no better but he doesn't make a move to brush anything off at all*
/He scoffs, tugging a little on the edge of his t-shirt to get it back to sorts. The other shirt is temporarily left off, mostly just for the sake of not wearing it. He waggled his eyebrows at Hugh, mostly just to get a rise out of him before cracking up. There was no way he was going to just strip, and Orwell was going to make sure Hugh got that. With some harassment involved, of course.
Yes, yes, not enough drinks in you for that. *snorts then wipes at his face again as if that alone would get rid of the dried blood* Need a shower later.
/He shoots Hugh an incredulous glance, not particularly pleased about the fact that he's unable to say that snarky comment in response. To try and soften that irritation, he tries mouthing it--'I'm not helping'. Way to go, Orwell.
*he pulls a face at him in response* Still don't know what you are saying.
/Cue an exasperated sigh. He tried, and that's what counts. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he shakes his head, waving off the comment.
At the very least I am going to wash off the blood, get changed, it's not a conversation I want to have. You can settle back down in the common room I suppose.
/He pulls a face at that; perhaps moping isn't what he wants to wind up doing, however much he still feels like it. His other PDA finds its way to his hand, and he pushes off of the Dispenser, finger hovering over the button as he waits for some form of approval or disapproval from his teammate.
*he frowns and steps away from the dispenser* So what were you pulling that face for?
/When Hugh's away from the machine, he presses the button, snerking a bit when it explodes. He gets an idea now--shoving the button into his pocket, he bends down and picks up a relatively safe piece of metal. He then begins scratching something in the dirt, doing his best to make it legible. All it is is the word 'mope', and he looks up at Hugh, shaking his head a little more. He then proceeds to dig an x over the word, hoping that got his point across.
Oh, well we don't really want more of that. That said there is a certain degree of needing to leave you alone, just for ten minutes or so communal showers or not.
/Another nod, this time with an eye roll added. He would've said something about stating the obvious, but he didn't feel like writing all of that out in the dirt. The piece of metal is tossed into the heart of the pile, and Orwell straightens up, smudging what he wrote out with a sweep of his foot. Being left alone for a few minutes is something he can deal with, anyway.
And I can fix you another drink before I head off. *shrug*
/A pause. The first one hadn't had any poison in it, and he hadn't really gotten to finish it. That, and something to drink sounded nice right now, warm or not. Orwell nods, giving just a tiny smile by means of appreciation.
Actually, you go, clean yourself up. You'll have something ready for you when you’re done and you won't be filling up the furniture with dust while you're stuck waiting. *looks him over* You're a state.
/Orwell tucks his uniform shirt under his arm, frowning at the remaining dirt on it before picking at it a bit. The plan seemed like a reasonable enough plan, and he couldn't exactly argue with having stuff done for him. That was how he'd gotten out here in the first place, after all. He nods once more, making a mental note to go and grab the notebook on his way to the showers.
Well alright then, let’s go. *he pats Orwell's shoulder on the way past as he heads in, cups were collected and taken to the kitchen.*
/He didn't jump too much at the contact and carries on through the kitchen to the common room, scooping up the notebook as he begins heading toward his room. He's going to have to get a change of clothes first--just a clean t-shirt and a new pair of jeans, he figures. Orwell pulls a face at the large BLU logo on the shirt, deciding that there isn't much he can do about it as he walks toward the showers. Might as well deal with it.
*Some of the dirt and blood is washed away and dishes are done. He makes up more tea, just the one cup for Orwell which he takes through and puts down on the table. He doesn't sit down and instead stands and waits on him coming back*
/Eventually, Orwell shows back up, still slightly damp and picking slightly at the company logo on his shirt. The notebook's in his hands and appears perfectly dry, with the Engineer having gone out of his way to make sure it didn't get sodden. He brushes a few strands of hair back into place, preemptively opening the notebook up in order to reply to whatever Hugh might say.
*he gestures at the cup before he notices Orwell opening the book, there is a moment where he seems tense.* Just be sure to pick out a page that's mostly empty.
/While flipping, he takes a moment to read a bit of Hugh's handwriting, squinting at it when it seems somewhat familiar. Eh, that wasn't exactly something to be concerned about.| 'I am aware. What now, though?'
You just wait for ten minutes while I get myself sorted. You have a drink on the table. *he steps over towards the door* and that won't make for very good reading.
/Nearing the table, Orwell swaps the notebook for the teacup and takes a sip, settling into the couch a few seconds after. He gets comfortable, giving a slight shrug as Hugh moves for the door.
*he leaves to get cleaned up and into some fresh clothes. The only downside is being back in one of his work shirts rather than the one he had taken from Remi. Once he was back in the common room he spoke* Everything still okay?
/Judging from the fact that he isn't freaking out, all is well. He gives a small wave with his pinky as he takes another sip, clearly feeling better than he was the first time Hugh walked in on him.
Ponse *snorts then sits down at the one end of the sofa* Good to see you have cheered up a bit at least.
/He lowers the teacup for a moment, sticking his tongue out in response. It's true that he doesn't feel quite so bad for the moment, but that might not be very long-lasting, he figures. Having to communicate nonverbally sucked.
*he pulls a face back at him in return before returning to his usual neutral expression* So when it comes down to it would you want me to talk on your behalf? Mediate? Let you do your own thing?
/Tilting his head, he thinks for a second, soon placing the cup back on the table before he fiddles with the notebook.| 'Perhaps one of the Spies can read lips. While I have no issue with you being around, it would conserve paper.'
Miss Spy speaks several languages, perhaps she can read lips as well, perhaps she has more paper even. Remi... I'm not so sure of, some spies are not particularly gifted in languages. I only started to learn a second language on the job. *hmm* Really she would probably be your best bet.
/Another shrug.| 'Possibly. Though I am not sure if she would be willing to help.' /He taps the eraser on the notebook, chewing on his lip.| 'I do not think I would be the best person to ask her.'
*he laughed when he read the full thing* She is the most determined person I know when it comes to trying to get people on this team getting along. You're a tough case but she does want to help you.
'I don't know.' /He grimaces, scratching the side of his jaw before continuing.| 'It's not as if I was particularly...positive.'
She doesn't grudge you much for anything as far as I know. We have had some need to talk about you before but really, be polite when you ask her for help and she will listen.
/Orwell sets the pencil down, just watching Hugh instead. If there's any suggestions Hugh has for properly dealing with Spy, his teammate certainly wouldn't mind.
She really isn't hard to deal with most of the time. Most of my troubles with her were cross team politics and since that should not be an issue for you two you should be fine. She will probably be surprised that you want to talk but I really doubt she will object. Offer to make her coffee if you really feel the urge to butter her up. She likes improvement and no doubt she would consider that an attitude improvement.
/He sits up, twirling the pencil between his fingers a few times before he actually writes anything down. On the plus side, he actually gets some time to think out his responses before he says them.| 'Oh, yes. I want to talk when I cannot.' /A snrk.| 'Regardless, it should be an...interesting conversation. One-sided, but.'
The good thing about your predicament is you can write what you want to say ahead of time and it can give anyone a good understanding of exactly what is going on within a minute. No need to fumble though a conversation explaining everything. *he reaches out then and taps his arm* And while you may have a lot to say still you should really try to conserve the paper. We shouldn't want to put you at the point where you need to write in the margins of actual books.
/The tap earns a brief pause, and Orwell lets Hugh continue, grimacing somewhat at mention of writing in books. That isn't part of the plan at all, no.| 'I should see how much I can get across without writing.' /It would be worth the effort, really. Orwell takes another sip of tea, still holding the pencil at the ready.
Write what you need to. I'm sorry that it does make this talk a whole lot more difficult and I'd rather not talk your ear off with a whole lot of nonsense. Still, it's been pleasant... but perhaps I'd not be saying that if I could understand half of what you were saying, hmm? *eyebrow raise*
/This time, he responds with a silent 'oh, hush' and a wave of his hand. Better to save paper on that instead of penning that, anyway. He tucks the pencil behind his ear, returning Hugh's eyebrow raise with one of his own.
*that was easy enough to understand and he snorts. He settles back into his corner of the sofa.* I'm sure things will go well with the others when you are ready to talk to them.
/'When?' He'd rather do it sooner than later, but at the same time, dealing with the lot of them and all the lowly curs involved didn't seem like such a fun idea, especially in his state. On the plus side, he'd have some form of mediator, with any luck. The Engineer goes ahead and finishes off his cup, giving a light huff as he leans back into the cushions.
*he was quiet, not entirely sure of what else to say. The empty cup was picked up and he took it away to get cleaned. Once he came back through he lent on the back of the sofa behind Orwell.*
/The BLU stretches a little more, looking up to give Hugh a vaguely confused look that fades as the pencil slips out of place. He almost caught it, but it wasn't that big of a deal--the object is soon fished from the couch and placed beside the notebook, with Orwell flipping the latter shut gently. He isn't particularly sure what to do now himself; going out and working on his machines was out of the question unless he had some form of signal in the event of a robot attack, but at the same time, he didn't want to just sit around. This translated into a bit of fidgeting, smothered down as soon as he noticed what he was doing.
*he reaches out to touch his shoulder once he notices the fidgeting* So I suppose the question is do you want to try hunting anyone down right now? If not I'll still be around, as I said you're not going to be left alone for long while this is a problem.
/He makes a downward stabbing motion with his hand, imitating a backstab as best he can. Next, the BLU logo on his shirt is tapped with a finger, and he stares up at Hugh, hoping what he meant had been understood. There were more ways he could make it clear, but those were probably just rude and/or overly disrespectful. And lewd, but he wasn't going to even go there.
Miss Spy it is then. Will you want me with you?
/He pauses for a few seconds, eventually just giving a shrug. Hugh would at least be useful in the event of anything needing to be defused, though that was not particularly likely to happen--beyond that, having somebody else along was just a good idea in the first place, given the problem. He tries communicating that it's up to his teammate, pulling a face at how pointless all those hand gestures seem.