redshiftlogs | open | the more you see the more you know

It's still a lot to take in. But she's not wrong. Charles pours over the information with a steady resolve, and while his reading is slow he thinks he understands what she's put in front of him. Obviously the more dangerous things need to be put to memory first, things like 'radiation' and 'oyxgen' and 'might explode'.

As gifts went, the guns had certainly been flashier. His own still rests on his hip, even now. But information is just as vital, and it's how Angel shows she cares about them, so he's grateful. Even as his head feels like it might explode with all this new information he's trying to cram into it, frowning intently down at the pages in front of him.

Jacob leans in close, sitting elbow to elbow with Charles and trying to focus on the masses of information Angel has told then and now sits on the shiny plastic-covered pages in front of them. The bits that really caught his attention were those at the start: explosions and chemical burns, the vacuum of space that could turn you inside out. But then his mind starts to wander, and when she really starts talking in detail, he's lost.

He tries not to be. He tries to pull himself back in. But there's food, and Charles at his side, and he's with his friends in a place that doesn't seem actively trying to kill them at this moment in time. None of this pertains to him right in this moment, and the future where it might? Seems a long way off.

Instead, he just leans a little closer into Charles, and looks at Angel, draped as she is over Connor. They look so happy together. They really deserve that, after everything they've both gone through.

"I don't see why you wouldn't be with us. Or be more than a call away."

It is in fact not entirely new to Ratonhnhaké:ton. The actual reality of it, being faced with it in person, is definitely new, but he spent a lot of time in the City reading up on research and science that was new to him for the purpose of working out the circumstances he'd found himself in. He can't exactly say he's gotten that much wiser about how any of this happens, about time travel and dimensions, but at least he's learnt plenty about space and physics.

Perhaps he can't fully comprehend everything that Angel is saying, but he can understand the do's and don't's.

He puts an arm around Angel when she settles in his lap, and leans in to nuzzle her temple before focusing on the binder she's holding. The pictures do help. Did she draw them herself? She's so good to them.

"Oh that's easy enough to happen. I did just spend three days getting drunk, being naked because I couldn't remember why I should wear clothes, let alone the correct temperature for oxegyn to freeze at. Then there are other things. There is no sound in space, because there is no air, so talking is impossible. Or a skag could eat out my tongue, or you could deaf temporarily from a loud enough explosions, or sharks could eat the wires that connect calls or - well. You get the idea."

A shrug, as she goes along, her tail flicking back and forth happily behind her, either because she enjoys the gory details, or she's being showered in affection, turning her head back to nuzzle Connor in turn.

Sighs, more happy than she as a right to be. Then carries on. "Speaking of, well, home. There is a guy here - from Pandora. He's one of those guys I was telling you about? A Vault Hunter. A proper one, but he's also an assassin. Which is about as much as I can tell you about him, honestly. If he even is a him. I don't know what species he is. But he talks in poetic count, exclusively, and like all other vault hunters, you can get him to do anything if you pay him."

"That sounds like every weekend." Jacob smirks at her, although in truth he's never had the pleasure of being naked and drunk for three days. It sounds like you'd wake up with the worst of hangovers.

But he doesn't ask- she doesn't seem to have come out any worse for wear, and maybe she doesn't even get hangovers in the way he does. Or any of them do. He doesn't know if Charles' abilities make him more impervious to the effects either.

As they cuddle, he rolls his eyes and leans a little more into Charles, to pay attention to the book rather than the two love birds opposite. Until she speaks up again.

"An assassin? Like Connor and me?" Or like the other sort, the sort that the establishment paints them as: paid killers.

It's the 'from Pandora' part that concerns him. Charles frowns faintly as he lowers the book into his lap, though it's more worry than displeasure. "Someone we need to worry about?" he murmurs in question, glancing towards the others.

She doesn't seem to consider this assassin poorly. But Angel often reacts to things that are dangerous or threatening in a fairly blasé manner. Better not to assume too much.

He also shifts an arm, sliding it around Jacob's side. The younger man seems to be trying to lean further and further into his side, and it's just easier this way.

From what he's understood of Angel's tales, the Vault Hunters aren't the worst people on Pandora. She considered them her friends, didn't she? But perhaps not all of them.

Jacob's question does make him wonder, and he stays silent, thinking about it. What Angel said about the Vaults and the mystery surrounding them and the Sirens didn't sound too unlike the stories of Those Who Came Before. It isn't impossible that they're from the same reality, and Angel is from far into the future from their perspective. If she knows very little about this Vault Hunter, perhaps the Brotherhood is still around, and even more secretive than he remembers them.

She leans over to pick at some left overs on the plate, stabbing a bean with a claw to nibble on it. "I'm not sure about the Assassin stuff. You'll understand when you meet him, he's pretty... Well. Mysterious. I don't know if thats because of the stuff Connor said, or some other thing. I mean we talked about the fact Vaults seem to be kind of similar to the stuff you guys are supposed to be protecting? Which the - my - vault hunters were trying to stop megalomaniacs like Jack from getting it. Mostly for personal gain, sure, but we don't have governments or codes so that doesn't mean much."

And she reached for a drink - yet another tequila sunrise. Oops.

"You can trust him, so far as saying you know me. Don't get me wrong, mass murdering, steals anything not nailed down, would just stare at you if you asked him why it was wrong. But he was one of the closest things I had to friends before, and he... doesn't hate me for what I did to him. Enough he let me hug him when I saw him again. That's a hell of a lot, because I lied to him about literally everything the entire time I knew him, and got a lot of people around him killed and tortured."

Jacob wonders. Mysterious is certainly what the Assassins are meant to be, to outsiders anyway. Working in the shadows to serve blah blah blah. But he certainly doesn't feel mysterious. Maybe Connor is able to pull that off better, but the Fryes certainly never succeeded in cutting themselves off from the world they were meant to be serving, from being apart from society in any way.

Maybe in the time Angel is from, it's different. Maybe they have become dark and mysterious again. Or maybe this guy just likes to seem that way. Who knows? But if Angel likes him, and trusts him, then he's probably alright.

And maybe he can tell them more about these Vault treasures left over from long ago. Could they be Artefacts? He's not really sure. Angel hasn't actually really said much about them to him, just gushed about the treasure hunters.

"There's no harm in meeting him," He says, happily resting his head on Charles' shoulder, now that there's an arm around him. He feels better, more grounded. And not quite so jealous of all the nuzzling going on between the other two. "I think in places like this, as many friends and allies you can gather around you the better. Especially the ones who know how to fight."

"If you trust him, we do."

He's pretty certain that's the case, at least. None of them have any reason to doubt her, not when this is her world. Her people. If she says he's on their side and can be trusted, then that's enough for him.

He's no associate of Jack's. That's something, at least.

"You said he doesn't hate you for what you did. That he was dedicated to stopping Jack. Was he one of the Vault Hunters who..." There's hesitation there for a moment, but she should still know what he's getting at.

Was this man one of the ones who killed her, in her world?

She goes quiet - because it's true, she told them about this. She had forced the words to the front of her mouth the once when she had to. This is what happened, this is how I died, and this is what you have to remember about the lies he will tell.

But it wasn't exactly a topic that came easily. What else was there to say about dying? She didn't really know. She didn't truly know what it meant to her now that she was once again face to face with the truth of it. That she looks at Zer0 and remembers the only time she ever saw him in person was as the light faded so literally out of her body.

The silence where she pauses, suspended between movements and yet finishing neither is probably enough. Then she nods, slowly and just the once. The only answer that needs to be said. "Don't hate him. I didn't give him, or any of them, a choice. I offered them the thing that they wanted. I didn't tell them until they were there and they had to, what they were going to do. They wanted to stop Jack. Stopping Jack sooner rather than later, meant... ending me. I cut out the conversation in the middle."

She hovers. Shying away, she didn't want someone else to be hurt because of what she had done. It had been her choice, and she had used him, that was that. That was the kind of person she had been.

As far as Ratonhnhaké:ton is concerned, the information she withheld from them and the lies she told them, he wouldn't fault her for. She was being controlled by Jack, unable to make her own choices without fear of retribution if it wasn't something he approved of. Never mind what choice the Vault Hunters had. What choice did she have?

He leans in a little, just enough to press his lips ever so gently to the top of her head, one hand moving up to gently stroke her hair.

"I think you have told us enough that we could not hate him," he says as he straightens up a little again, throwing both Charles and Jacob a look above her head.

Jacob knows that while lies aren't pleasant, there is a need for them. He's told plenty over the years, and while none of them were quite in the same league as Angel's, he can understand why she felt she had to do it. Why she believed there were no other options.

He can't help but feel there must have been some other way, even so. Some way to save her, to make it right. She's a kind, sweet and incredible woman. She doesn't deserve death.

"We'll give him a fair chance," he promises, with a grin at her. "See what this assassin of yours is like."

It doesn't get easier, that is the simple truth of the things she doesn't say. She has forced the words up once for each of them. She has told them what they need to protect herself, and it gets no easier to talk about.

So for right now, she takes what she needs but barely deserves, that bit of affection she still feels her chest curl up in fear and longing over as Connor brushing lips on her head. She seeks that comfort, whether it was fair for her to have it or not. Curling her arms around his shoulders. Burying her face against his neck as she steadies herself. Inhaling his scent to comfort herself, before she pulls back.

"...we've all got pasts, Angel."

All of them. They all have blood on their hands, things they regret. They're here now, together, and moving forward. That's the important thing. If she's looking to be judged, this isn't the place and they'll never be the people to do it.

He offers her a gentle, sad sort of smile before settling back a little further.

"When do we meet them?"

"Are we having a dinner party?" Jacob says, amused. "Invite him over, if you like. Although we could all just meet him ourselves, individually. Might be less overwhelming for the poor bastard that way."

He doesn't mind, but it depends on what Angel wants. If she wants to oversee the meeting, if she wants to introduce them all, then why not?

There - distracted momentarily, Angel snorts. "Uhm, maybe not a dinner party. I don't think he even eats? Or at least I've never seen him take his helmet off? Like ever? But he's usually okay enough to just go where I ask if I promise a gun to him for it."

Nothing really like guns to motivate a Vault Hunter.

"Either way, keep your eye out for him when you see him. Tall, helmet. Sword. Talks in poetry."

Hm ...

"I believe I have met him. He seems okay."

Which is as much of a reassurance for both Angel and the other two men. Zer0 was ... a little odd, but friendly enough towards Ratonhnhaké:ton and the strange gooey creature the four of them accidentally released.

He hadn't realised that the man spoke in poetry, however.

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