The Agent (Lindianne Parker) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
divisionary) wrote2016-05-20 10:21 pm
divisionary) wrote2016-05-20 10:21 pm
Matinee
For once, the streets are quiet.
Between the rescue mission at the trainyard, the storming of the WarrenGate power plant, and the skirmish at the New Law tenements, there's been a lot less movement in the city the past few weeks. The Rikers have retreated to lick their wounds. The Cleaners have gone quiet (or as quiet as a gang of men on garbage trucks can be). Even the LMB have stopped rattling their sabers from Kips Bay. It isn't a real peace. There's still a lot left to do. But for now, the JTF is breathing a little easier.
Not Lindianne, though. Ever since she came limping back to base with Voodoo and the others, she's been on strict orders to take it easy. She's had her nose set and it's healing well. There's been no need for her to head outside the wire. There's no imminent threat to the base or to personnel. So she's been spending her time trying to help in smaller ways.
And slowly going stir-crazy.
Right now, she's deep in conversation with one of the civilians. "Look, uh, Finnegan," she says with a shrug. "I know you guys like that movie. But maybe, just maybe, we can watch something other than that one about Luna Park?" He looks a little annoyed at the suggestion. Lindianne sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Yeah, I know. It's either that or everyone starts arguing again. I get it. Just... think it over, okay?"
He doesn't answer; all he does it raise his eyebrows, then turn and head back towards a knot of civilians. Lindianne, meanwhile, sighs. She sequesters herself out near the supply room with a dog-eared paperback novel somebody scavenged from a nearby drugstore. It's a terrible read, but it's better than having to deal with the same damn movie for the 800th time.
What she'd give for something else right now.
Between the rescue mission at the trainyard, the storming of the WarrenGate power plant, and the skirmish at the New Law tenements, there's been a lot less movement in the city the past few weeks. The Rikers have retreated to lick their wounds. The Cleaners have gone quiet (or as quiet as a gang of men on garbage trucks can be). Even the LMB have stopped rattling their sabers from Kips Bay. It isn't a real peace. There's still a lot left to do. But for now, the JTF is breathing a little easier.
Not Lindianne, though. Ever since she came limping back to base with Voodoo and the others, she's been on strict orders to take it easy. She's had her nose set and it's healing well. There's been no need for her to head outside the wire. There's no imminent threat to the base or to personnel. So she's been spending her time trying to help in smaller ways.
And slowly going stir-crazy.
Right now, she's deep in conversation with one of the civilians. "Look, uh, Finnegan," she says with a shrug. "I know you guys like that movie. But maybe, just maybe, we can watch something other than that one about Luna Park?" He looks a little annoyed at the suggestion. Lindianne sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Yeah, I know. It's either that or everyone starts arguing again. I get it. Just... think it over, okay?"
He doesn't answer; all he does it raise his eyebrows, then turn and head back towards a knot of civilians. Lindianne, meanwhile, sighs. She sequesters herself out near the supply room with a dog-eared paperback novel somebody scavenged from a nearby drugstore. It's a terrible read, but it's better than having to deal with the same damn movie for the 800th time.
What she'd give for something else right now.
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Voodoo can be stealthy when the job requires him to be, but it's not his natural inclination - he's a machine-gunner, for crying out loud. And so Lindianne will have no trouble hearing him coming before he stops in front of her, shoving two handfuls of DVD cases in front of the book. In one hand is Airplane! and Blade Runner: The Final Cut - in the other, Zoolander and 127 Hours.
"Rabbit," he says, as though that'll explain everything. "Dunno where he got them. I'm inclined to think he magicked them out of his ass. What's your preference?"
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But she isn't expecting him to jam a handful of movies into her line of sight. She yelps, dropping the book and the cases into her lap. She looks down at them. Up at Voodoo. Then: "Why am I not surprised it was Rabbit?" She shakes her head, smiling. (Damn. So much for composure.)
"If it were up to me?" She holds up the copy of Blade Runner in one hand. "But since that probably hits a bit close to home, uh..." It's a blind grab, but she comes up with Zoolander. "...This one? I don't know, Voodoo, I'm not a good judge of this stuff."
Hence why they don't put her in charge of morale activities.
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"Yeah, that had Preacher's vote."
(Fuckin' nerd.)Then, as she holds up Zoolander:
"-and that one had Rabbit's. I never even heard of it before now, but-"
He takes the DVD case in hand, flipping it over to read the summary.
"'Clear the runway for Derek Zoolander, VH1's three-time male model of the year. When he loses this year's award to hippie-chic Hansel, the evil fashion guru Mugatu seizes the opportunity to turn Derek into a killing machine. It's a well-designed conspiracy, and only with the help of Hansel and a few well-chosen accessories like Matilda can Derek...make the world safe for male models everywhere.'"
Squiiiiint.
"PG-13, 89 minutes." He shrugs, turning the case back towards her. "Sounds pretty goofy, but kids can watch it and it'll be over quick if it sucks. You down?"
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"...Uh-huh." Well, this'll end one of two ways: hilariously bad or just hilarious. It sounds like the weirdest plotline for a movie that she's ever heard of, and she's spent an alarming amount of time at the movies before all of this. She stares at the case. Then she reaches out to pluck it out of Voodoo's hand.
She turns it over. Reads the back. The look on her face is half-squint, half nose-wrinkle. There's a long silence. Then, finally, she shrugs her shoulders. "Eh. Why not? It beats listening to the civilians arguing about it. I swear, between that and Heather's guitar, they can't get along to save their lives."
It's New York, it's cold, and it's still too dangerous to let people out on the streets. Cramped spaces make anyone a bit snappish in the best of circumstances.
"But if it's bad, we're switching to Blade Runner."
That'd make Preacher happy, at least.
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Sci-fi isn't his thing, but how bad can anything with Han Solo in the lead be?
The "movie theater" in the post office isn't a movie theater in the sense that any of them are used to. It's really just a whole lot of chairs gathered together in front of a flatscreen in an isolated corner of the building, far out of the way of JTF personnel doing work. Civilians are starting to gather as word gets around, and Preacher starts hooking up the DVD player as Voodoo and Rabbit find seats next to Parker.
"Mother's in the Situation Room with Faye," Voodoo says. "Don't know what for, yet."
"Scuttlebutt's that they've got a lock on Barrett," Rabbit says. "Say she set up shop just north of Central Park."
"Bullshit. I heard it was something to do with Ferro. Ain't they following up on some explosion at a construction site in the East Village?"
Rabbit snorts as Preacher finishes up and walks back towards them as the movie starts. "What explosion? If something blew that close to home, we'd be out there with Parker instead of here."
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She's snagged a folding chair and a prime spot to see the screen. She's sitting on it backwards with her arms draped over the seatback. "We've got good intel guys," she says quietly. "They'll let us know."
But still... Faye wouldn't be conferring with Mother unless there really is something going down. The comforting words sound flat in her own ears.
That's soon forgotten as the movie plays. There's laughter from the civilians. Lindianne, meanwhile, has spent a large amount of the time looking... well, looking like a deer in the headlights. "I... I don't... I'm pretty sure fashion shows don't work like that." Never mind that she's never been to Fashion Week at all. She laughs disbelieving my and elbows Rabbit in the ribs.
"Oh my god, Rabbit, where'd you find this thing?"
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Preacher smiles, while Voodoo's hiding his face in one hand, trying to hide the way his shoulders shake. "Fuuuck, Rabbit. Even for you, this is pretty screwball."
After the awards ceremony and some introspection from Zoolander, the movie quickly cuts to a Manhattan apartment where he and three other male models converse. There's a minute or two of infighting before Zoolander delivers the famous line:
"Did you ever think that maybe there's more to life than being really, really...really ridiculously good-looking? I mean, maybe we should be doing something more meaningful with our lives. Like helping people."
"Uh, Derek, what people?"
"I don't know. People who need help."
Rabbit elbows Parker back, pointing to the screen. "Watch this. This next sequence is so stupid it's funny."
"You know what could really help you sort through these important issues?"
"What?"
"Orange mocha frappuccino!"
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She sits there, blinking in complete confusion. She looks at Rabbit. Raises one eyebrow in a silent question: what the hell is this. That expression lasts all of five seconds before she buries her head in her hands and starts cackling.
"Oh my God," she wheezes through her laughter. "This is the stupidest thing I've ever seen." But it's working, at least. The mood in the room has brightened considerably. There are people laughing. There are people talking (quietly) among themselves. No one's looking at the SEALs with curiosity any more.
"Rabbit, you're a lunatic."
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The movie cuts to a funeral on the banks of the Hudson. Manhattan stands in the background, with Zoolander standing at the podium, dressed in white.
"Rufus, Brint, and Meekus were like brothers to me," he says. "And when I say brother, I don't mean like an actual brother, but I mean it like the way black people use it. Which is more meaningful, I think. If there's anything that this horrible tragedy can teach us...it's that a male model's life is a precious, precious commodity. Just because we have chiseled abs and stunning features...it doesn't mean that we, too, can't not die in a freak gasoline fight accident."
"They should've been grapes," Voodoo grunts, shaking his head as he fails to suppress a grin. "They'd've fit right in on Stinkin' Lincoln."
Rabbit snorts. "Don't think you want to bring up your shoe days here, Voodoo-"
"Jesus, Rabbit, come on-"
Rabbit persists, slapping him on the shoulder. "Tell Parker about your line-crossing. You know, kissing the Royal Baby's belly?"
Voodoo sighs, gesturing to the flatscreen. "But we got a fuckin' movie goin' on-"
And now Preacher leans forward, looking at Voodoo as Zoolander announces his retirement. "Didn't your senior chief put you in the drag swimsuit contest?"
"Almost, he almost did-"
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"Wait, wait, hold up." She cocks her head and squints at Voodoo. There's a long pause. Then she breaks into a beatific smile. (It may look innocent, but there's a devious little glint in her eyes.) "Someone tried to dress up Voodoo in drag?" There's a beat.
Then she puts her head back in her hands and starts laughing even harder than earlier. "Oh my God," she chuckles. "I'm kind of glad that didn't happen. Nobody needs to see that." He's never going to live this down. She's not going to let this go.
"And here I thought you were Mister Rule-Abiding." That's a total lie; they both broke so many rules with their little stunt at Yankee Stadium. But what good is it if she can't yank his chain a little?
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Voodoo groans, holding his face in one hand. "It's part of the line-crossing ceremony. Each department has to get one dude in drag to be judged by King Neptune and his court for a shot at being the next royal concubine."
Rabbit elbows Parker in the ribs, matching her grin. "He was his Senior's first choice."
"I was not the first choice, I was the backup. Senior went with a dude two bunks aft of me. Some noodle named Hackel."
"He still had you try on the outfit."
Voodoo's sigh is like that of an overworked mule. "Yeah. Yeah, he did."
And Rabbit nudges Parker again, leaning in to whisper into her ear. "Bikini top, blonde wig, eyeliner and sport shorts." He wiggles his eyebrows. "Paints quite a picture, doesn't it?"
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Well. Except Mother. But he was busy chewing them out afterwards.
She looks at Preacher. Turns. Stares at Voodoo in dumb horror. Then, weakly: "You have the wrong skin tone for blonde, Voodoo." That's going to haunt her nightmares, that's for sure. She groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Not... a mental image I wanted haunting me, Preacher."
Okay. Okay, how to make the mental image of Voodoo in drag less horrifying...
"Should have stuck a red wig on him. Suits him better."
-Okay, that's not helping matters any.
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"Would you two shut it already? The fuckin' movie's still on."
"I'm going back home," Zoolander says as he leaves Ballstein's office. "I need to get in touch with my roots, figure out who I am. See you around, Maurey."
The next shot is of a long pan across a large forest. Large blue font proclaims this to be COAL MINING COUNTRY, SOUTHERN NEW JERSEY, and the next shot has Zoolander walking along a unpaved road in attire more suited to a fashion show than coal-mining country as Rufus Wainwright plays in the background.
"You'd think he could afford a plane ticket," Rabbit says. "Or a bus pass."
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One of the civilians watching the movie twists around in his seat to give Lindianne a long, withering look. She holds her hands up and shrugs. "What? The roads are paved." The man snorts before turning back around.
When she talks again, it's sotto voce. Raising her voice is just going to irritate the smattering of civilians who're watching the show. And the last thing she wants is for someone to kick her (or any of the boys) out for being too loud. "Or a rental car. Even the tiny local ones at least have taxis."
She spent a lot of time on the road in her younger years. And far, far too much of it in New Jersey.
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The next scene is of the exterior of a coal mine. Zoolander is talking to his father and two brothers, all black with coal dust.
"I thought maybe I could work the mines with you guys. You know, all the Zoolander men together again, like when we were kids."
"Times have changed, boy. You wouldn't last one day down those coal pits."
"Can't you at least pretend to be happy to see me, pop?"
"Damn it, Derek, I'm a coal miner, not a professional film and television actor. Do us all a favor and...get out of here."
Voodoo lets out a low whistle. "Even my old man wouldn't have been that harsh."
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"He isn't saying it to be harsh." She doesn't look at Voodoo or any of the others. She has her eyes fixed on a point somewhere above the screen. "Parents want their kids to live their own lives. My father'd do the same."
She blinks. Looks over at the SEALs with a sheepish little smile on her face. "He wouldn't exactly be thrilled about the SHD if he knew. That's why they..." She pauses. "They don't exactly like it if you have roots."
Like Faye and her sister.
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Then Rabbit nods. "Navy's not that strict, but - it doesn't pay for us to chat up our neighbors."
"It's not like they disincentivize settling down," Preacher says, leaning back in his chair. "But as far as roots go...leases run month-to-month in Norfolk."
The scene changes to a montage inside the coal mine.
"You check up on him lately?" Voodoo asks. "Your dad."
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She looks... thoughtful. Her mind is a million miles away, somewhere other than the post office room they're sitting in. She shakes her head, then looks down at her nails. They're ragged, there's dirt and grime under the cuticles, and one of them has broken at the quick.
"He lives in California," she adds after a moment. "Up north near San Francisco. We talked by phone on Thanksgiving." The next day was Black Friday. And after that-
"What about your folks?"
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"Pa kicked it a few years back. Heart attack just after I deployed to the Philippines. My sister called me up as soon as we made port."
A quick, one-shouldered shrug. "Got fat, dumb, and happy living off his shipyard pension. What can I say?"
Another beat.
"Ma's with Jason, my brother. They're weathering it out at his hunting cabin."
A quick smile.
"He was a Green Beanie, so I gotta talk some shit about him, but - if anyone could make it through this, it'd be him."
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The discussion is interrupted by the end of the montage and a smattering of laughter. Lindianne looks back at the screen and does a double-take. "The hell's wrong with you?" She stares, then shakes her head slowly. "Oh good God. That's gotta be a long list."
The words might be cutting, but there's a smile on her face when she says them. (It helps, having something to cut the tension like this. They should do this more often.)
"How the hell have I never seen this movie before now? Geez, I need to get out more."
She regrets saying it almost as soon as it leaves her lips. There's nothing to "get out" for. There's nothing out there for her right now. And for now, it doesn't look like there will be in the future. All she has is this.
Lindianne bites her lip.
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"What's on your mind?"
As if to preempt any attempt at feigned ignorance, Voodoo claps her on the shoulder. "C'mon, Parker - you're wearing it on your sleeve, for Chrissake. What's up?"
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"I miss going to the movies."
That probably requires a bit of explanation. She keeps plowing forward, trying to get it into words just right. "Like, shit like this? Just sitting around bullshitting? I missed that like you wouldn't believe."
It's something normal. And given recent events, any sort of normalcy like this seems damned near improbable. (Not impossible. There's no such thing as impossible.)
"Even if it's because of a dumb movie like this, I needed this."
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"Yeah," Voodoo says. "Who knows, with the luck we're having, maybe Mother'll let us sleep in tomorrow."
"You wish."
It's all in good fun, but they get it. With how topsy-turvy the world has gone in only a few short weeks, it's good to have something to re-center on, to refresh your mind, so to speak. Otherwise - the bad starts to catch up with you, in ways you won't like.
On screen, Zoolander has a meeting with Mugatu that...doesn't go quite as expected. "Oh, great," Voodoo says. "I know what joke Rabbit's going to run into the ground this week."
Another shrug from Rabbit. "Can it really be run into the ground if it's a classic?"
"'Center for ants' this, 'center for ants' that - can't you use up your lame jokes on Brooke and the kids?"
"Then how would you know I loved you?"
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Yes, she's totally going to talk shit about (technically) the CO when he isn't around. He isn't here, and she's fairly sure that none of the guys are going to turn around and spill the beans about it. Besides, she is technically not one of his. He'll just turn it over to Faye.
...Which is actually a little frightening to think about.
"Nah, nah, you can keep that joke running until it breaks, Rabbit," Lindianne says with a far-too-innocent smile. "I think it's funny." Which is another fancy way of saying 'I find Voodoo's suffering amusing and want it to continue.' "No need to make an anthill out of it."
Because why not go for a pun at the same time?
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Rabbit sees your pun, Lindianne, and matches it with an even lamer one!
Voodoo's groan sounds like one borne of years of suffering. "Fuck both of you."
Whatever banter was to proceed is quickly silenced by...a rather trippy brainwashing sequence.
"Talk about an interesting approach to operative training, huh?" Rabbit says.
Voodoo shakes his head. "80s hits might work on you, Rabbit, but you'd have to put on some metal to even get me thinking about getting in that chair."
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Then Lindianne cracks a smirk. "Hey, that's how they trained us." She's yanking their chains. "A little shock aversion therapy, some tunes, and we came out with all the stuff we'd need to save the day." Not really. Division agents come by their expertise the hard way.
It's a long process. Scouting, then the offer, then training, then meeting the others in any given cell, then reinsertion into civilian life... It's a dizzying part of her old life. Even now, it feels unreal to look back on.
The smirk vanishes. She turns her head robotically to look at the SEALs. "...Enemies need to be eliminated," she says blankly
(She's doing it just to see the looks on their faces.)
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Voodoo, unfortunately for Parker, doesn't buy it for a second. Instead, he snorts and gently punches her shoulder. "Aw, c'mon, Parker, step your game up," he says. "Not even invoking any codenames? Weak. That's subconscious programming 101."
Meanwhile, on screen...
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Then she snorts. The frown instantly cracks into a smile. She points at Rabbit, wags her finger, and then just starts cackling madly. "Oh my God, you should have seen the look on your face!"
One of the civilians watching the movie turns around to look at them, then turns back. Lindianne ignores it. She's too busy laughing at Rabbit. "You ruined it, Voodoo, he actually bought it!"
It's always good when a joke come together just right.
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"Bullshit," Voodoo says as the movie then cuts to a car interior, then a cemetery, then to Derek and Hansel talking it out. "You bought it like hundred-peso ass in Manila. Now shut up, the movie's still on."
"Why you been acting so messed up towards me?" Hansel asks.
"Why you been acting so messed up towards me?" Zoolander retorts.
"Well, you go first."
"I don't know. Maybe I felt a little threatened or something...'cause your career is kind of just blossoming...and mine's kind of winding down or whatever. And I felt like, 'this guy's really hurting me'...and it hurt. And I felt like when you told me to 'dere-lick' my balls...that really hurt."
"Maybe I was scared, man. You're Derek Zoolander!"
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A beat.
"Not the fashion thing. The whole being-intimidated thing." It can't be easy to survive the collapse of New York City, only to wind up playing second-fiddle to a handful of Navy soldiers and a woman who doesn't answer to the chain of command. She leans forward in her seat, focusing in on the movie.
"You know, for being a comedy, this has some good points." A beat. "That's... probably insane coming out of my mouth, but you get the picture."
You find moments of brilliance where you can, even if they're in the middle of a really weird comedy flick.
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"Maybe it's both," Rabbit says. "We got reputations. You should hear some of the things they say when they think I'm out of earshot."
"What'm I, in a sewing circle? Fuck the gossip."
At Parker's next statement, the SEALs exchange looks.
"Maybe SHD recruited a few Agents off the cover of Vogue," Rabbit says, gesturing to the flatscreen. "You hear the points they're making."
"I wouldn't if I were recruiting," Voodoo says as the movie cuts to a scene over tea. "Famous guys would cause problems."
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Unlike earlier, she can't hold back the laughter. "Nah, I'm just messing with you," she says with a grin. "They recruit us for what we're good at. Information, technological know-how, marksmanship, things like that." It's a long list of criteria to go through.
"Nah. Famous people have too many eyes on 'em." She pulls two energy bars from the pocket of her sweater and tosses one to Voodoo. She's unwrapped the other in a moment. (What? She's hungry and it's still a ways until the last meal of the day.) "They want people like- well, like you and me," she mumbles through a mouthful of food.
"These airheads-" Here she gestures at the screen. "-They wouldn't last a minute in basic, let alone out here."
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Voodoo catches the bar Lindianne tosses his way and unwraps it, saying a quick thanks before digging in. "People got a way of surprising you, but yeah, these dudes wouldn't-"
Whatever he's about to say next is interrupted by an impromptu orgy. He almost chokes on his next bite before swallowing it down, tucking the bar into a pocket, sticking his index and middle fingers in his mouth, and wolf-whistling as loud as he can.
"Yeah!" he shouts, grinning as he claps. "Geddit!"
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"That's real classy, Voodoo, why don't you let the whole world know?" She breaks down into helpless laughter at the entire situation.
Nobody's ever accused him of having class. Or diplomacy. Sorry, but it's true.
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Preacher smirks and shakes his head as Rabbit hides his head in his hands and laughs along with Lindianne. "Christ, Voodoo, you've got no filter, do you?"
"I call 'em like I see 'em." He chuckles, shoulders shaking as he settles down, nudging Lindianne with an elbow. "It's okay, Parker. Fun part's over, you can look up now."
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She turns back to watching the movie. Already, the blush is fading from her face. She cracks a smirk. "Next time we get into trouble, I am so saying it was all in our minds afterwards," she says with a wry little grin. "I wonder if Faye or Mother'd get it."
Probably not. Mother doesn't seem to have much of a sense of humor.
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"But Mother? Nah," Voodoo says, shaking his head. "I don't think he's been to the movies since Three Kings came out."
Rabbit nods. "That's a lifer for you. But he's a hell of a shooter."
"When he dies, the Navy won't bury him," Voodoo says as the movie cuts to a scene inside Ballstein's office. "They'll just take a pair of jumper cables, jumpstart his heart, and give him a CAR-15 and a Zodiac. He'll take it from there."
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"Nah. A guy like Mother? He'd probably tell death to fuck off and that he has stuff to do." She polishes off the last of her snack bar, shoving the wrapper into the same pocket it came from. Easier to get rid of once she finds a garbage can later.
People like Mother, like Lindianne, like the SEALs, they don't die easily. There's too much to do, too much on the line for them to lie down and give up. She's never been one to accept defeat. And from her interactions with them, she suspects that AFO Neptune is the same exact way.
Maybe that's why they work together so well.
"That is not how you do tech support," she jeers at the movie. "Hit the button on the-" Cue the actors beating on the poor Mac. Lindianne facepalms, sighing in aggravation. "It has a button on the front. It's literally right there."
She has a soft spot for electronics.
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Voodoo grunts, looking over to Rabbit. "If you showed this to a twidget, would they laugh, bitch, or both?"
"Dunno," Rabbit replies. "Laugh at the iMac, bitch at the way they're treating it? Don't ever get stuck watching Swordfish with electronic warfare guys."
And now the movie moves onto the fashion show proper, complete with breakdance fighting. Yes, breakdance fighting. Voodoo groans, resting his head in one hand. "Oh, for the love of - just shoot 'im."
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"Think that'd work if we busted it out on our next op?" Well, maybe with some of the rioters. But it'd be less 'oh wow she's too good' and more 'oh god run away she's nuts'. Not entirely a bad reputation to have. "I'm just saying, it'd be good for a laugh if nothing else."
"He could've just yanked the album," she adds as the fight continues. "Solves the issue in one fell swoop."
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His train of thought is interrupted by what is quite possibly the worst misunderstanding of computer technology ever put on film.
"-oh Jesus." He shakes his head. "These guys - there's boot stupid, then there's this."
The film's antagonist seems to share his frustration!
"-did he just stop a fuckin' shuriken with a duckface?"
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"Forget that guy. I think I took crazy pills this morning!"
And the instant the 'duckface' appears, Lindianne dissolves into another fit of laughter. She even slaps Voodoo on the shoulder a few times while she cackles. Her eyes are watering when she finally stops.
"Hoo. Oh man, yeah, I am so quoting this over the radio." Faye won't be amused. It's unprofessional to the highest possible standard. But damn it, don't they deserve a little levity?
And it'll be worth it to see what kind of face Mother makes.
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Rabbit lean in to whisper to Lindianne. "'Center for ants'. Bet I can get it on the air on our next op."
After one last scene, the credits start rolling!
"Fuuuuck," Voodoo says. "That was so dumb I don't even think I can be mad at it for it."
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"I'll give you ten bucks if you do it," she whispers back, trying to hide her smile with her hand. "No, wait, ten bucks and first dibs on my slot in the meal line." That ought to sweeten the deal.
Lindianne grins at the boys before rolling her shoulders. "Yeah, that pretty dumb, but I kind of liked it," she admits. "Like, it's so bad it loops around to being good again."
Already, there's a smattering of applause from the civilians watching the movie. A few have stood up and are talking to one another. The mood in the room is light. There's no tension. No worry.
Lindianne's smile is wistful. "We all needed that."
And then she loops an arm around Voodoo and Rabbit's necks. "And it's all thanks to you two knuckleheads! So, y'know, thanks."
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"Yeah, dude cuts his arm off with a Leatherman, that'll get morale up-"
"Who said anything about morale? It's a good fuckin' movie-"
"Oh, please, if I wanted to watch James Franco cry for 90 minutes I'd whack him with a newspaper-"
The argument is ended as quickly as it began by the approach of Mother from the direction of the Situation Room. What civilians haven't cleared out make way for him as he walks over to Lindianne and his boys, helmet tucked under his arm. AFO Neptune hasn't been in the city a month, and already the stress of almost non-stop ops is wearing on him - the bags under his eyes seem to grow larger every day.
"Bring it in," he says, beckoning them over. "School circle."
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Lindianne gives Voodoo and Rabbit one last fond little shake before she lets them go. She does also mock-punch Preacher on the bicep as she heads towards Mother. So much for movie night. So much for relaxation. It never really ends.
"Mother." She gives him a little smile. (She tries for 'carefree', but winds up somewhere in the vicinity of 'guarded'.) "Sir, forgive the comment, but... damn. You need some shut-eye toot suite." Or some coffee, at the very least.
She's not dressed for going outside of the Post Office. She's switched to an oversized sweatshirt and a wool sweater instead of her usual cold-weather gear. She looks more prepared for a long nap than any sort of combat situation.
"...Something happen?"
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In response to her question, Mother shakes his head. "No. Not yet. And it's got Faye and me worried."
He looks to the other SEALs before continuing. "It's the LMB," he says. "They're in a holding pattern, and we can't tell why. Radio intercepts don't point to anything out of the ordinary, but they're not trying to expand like they should be, and we can't get patrols close enough to find out why. We haven't even caught them in a firefight for the past few days, with either the Rikers or the Cleaners. Unless something's happened to Bliss - which we can't tell, one way or another - it feels wrong."
He idly rubs at the bridge of his nose. "Long story short, we've got a whole lot of radio chatter and no viable targets. We're wasted on presence patrols, but there's nothing else for us to do outside the wire. So take this time to clean and maintain your gear. Take this time to train. Take this time to rest up."
He looks to each of them in turn.
"Be ready for anything. The JTF's in a dangerous place right now - strong enough to play with the big boys, weak enough to get wiped off Manhattan if someone plays their cards right. Keep your go-bags by your racks."
Then, a simple nod.
"Dismissed."
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The Last Man Battalion doesn't do quiet. They don't do subtle. If they wanted the last of the JTF out of the borough, they would have pressed their advantage already. Something is definitely wrong. But what are they waiting for? What could possibly holding them back from making a move?
It can't be fear about the SEALs. If that were true, they wouldn't have made their play to kill Mother on his first full day in the city. They're not afraid of the United States military. And they're definitely not afraid of her.
Well. Whatever it is, they'll find out eventually.
She turns back towards Voodoo, Rabbit, and Preacher. She gives them a quick, easy little smile. "Like we're never not ready to go," she cracks. "But... well, he's right." She glances over her should back in the direction Mother left. "Maybe I'll help out with patrols. Just get a feel for what's going on out there."
But for now... for now, it's time to relax.