Thread: //.ghost/ECHO::Murphy_Was_Right:// [ClockworkCadence x Ryees]

You'll be joining them. Of course we will. Why wouldn't we be? The ceiling was acutely fascinating as he tried to stare through it, hoping that whatever lay on the other side offered him some escape from this mortal coil. Anywhere but here was the sentiment that kept echoing through his head, louder and more insistent with every repetition. Kirin had been quiet during their meeting, listening more than speaking as was his custom. Habit dictated he speak as little as possible, and it had come in handy he had escaped that room as, My companion from Lyra, leaving .GORGON with next to no information on him. Unless she started tracking people by their injury patterns, she would have no way to find him after he left. Which he would greatly prefer to do soon. They had yet been given no details on their expedition save that it would be in a few days. That would be enough time for him to stop bleeding and let everything scab over, which did mean that he would be unlikely to reopen his wounds in normal travails. But the ache would set in, and that arm would be incredibly cumbersome and unwieldy for weeks, possibly months. A .WRAITH attack would be manageable if the creatures in question were manageable any sort of major .WRAITH or elder .WRAITH would almost certainly be too much and illicit a need to flee, especially considering he had all of twenty-six rounds to his name. The MP7 was tucked uncomfortably but safely under his pillow, the drain on his plasm to upkeep the invisibility low enough that he could keep the effect persistent with minimal drain. It would run out, eventually, but it was unlikely it would do so before he was able to find a font to draw fresh plasm from. He considered the possibility of an attack on the road carefully. Ultimately, that would be fine with him he could bail out, leaving the lot of them behind, throw open an .ECHO and get back to his apartment. He would gather his things, move what could be moved, destroy what could not, and burn the place to the ground. It was not a pleasant process, but nor what it an unfamiliar one getting up and moving was simply something he did when necessary. There was a nagging though in that, somewhere, something that gently tugged his attention to it with insufficient force to consciously crystalize but enough to make itself known. He put it out of his mind as Lyra entered the room. When she would enter, anyway he habitually let his perception hang thirty to sixty seconds in the future when idle, and in this place, he kept it closer to ninety. It kept him alive. He slowly let her perception begin to return, freezing that frame in his head for the better part of a minute. She was freshly bandaged, in a new shirt, and without the vest on underneath he finally had a chance to really look at her. Having a few moments at rest had let his mind finally begin to process the events of the last day, and among the dregs of thoughts still processing were the more casual thoughts that struck him that had to be quashed at the time they came for more important thoughts such as, How do I not die? and, Ow, ow, fucking ow, that bitch stabbed me. Not counting her apparent willingness to stab him repeatedly, her list of traits was mostly positive. Aside from being cunning and inventive, clearly intelligent and driven, she was also, more irrelevantlybut somehow most at the forefront of Kirin's thoughts at the momentvery pretty. Red hair and a pretty face on top of a necessity-honed figure made for a pleasant sight rather, it would have, were she not covered in bandages necessitated by his firearm. It took him a moment to understand the feeling that came with that. The fuck do I have to feel guilty for!? Bitch stabbed me! His inner turmoil was not displayed on his face, but his eyes followed her as she sat down across from him. The look on her face was somewhat unreadable. Pensive? Thoughtful? Introspective? Hey. The words hit him like a sonic boom, the relative silence in the room making her voice seem comparatively thunderous to his ears. What's your name? Shit. He had forgotten about that. He had escaped telling it to .GORGON , but it had somehow slipped his mind that she would likely be asking for it as well. His callsign, he was quite willing to give outmany people could read it anyway, so it was hardly sacred information. But his name was reserved for the precious few that he held as friends. Instinct told him to lie to her, and he quickly riffled through the bank of aliases he went by more commonly. Deciding on one, he answered her. Kirin. Are you MAD!? That was not an alias! His mental self was polishing the hammer it has used to bludgeon him upside the head. I know you can't talk to girls for shit, son, but you'd best be more careful in the future. You didn't even case the place to see if anyone was listening! It was true that he was so used to having an atelier established that he had not been considerate of prying ears within the room, but at the moment it was just them in the medical bedrooms. She did not respond, seeming happy with his answer and tossing into the sheets. The slow rise of sleep breathing came about her almost immediately. He would come to envy that over the next hour as he lay staring at the ceiling, taking stock of his life. Immediate plans for the future began to come to mind, and it was to these comforting thoughts that he eventually drifted off to sleep, flat on his back with his hands thoughtfully laced over his chest.