daemonmuses | MCed MoH RB, TVDF, part trois

Voodoo and Maia are hunched over a pair of glasses at a corner booth, the former turning them around in his hands, the latter lounged belly-up on the table - this is going to end badly, she knows it.

"You think these are Freeman's?" he asks.

"Do I look like a lenscrafter to you?"

"Are you expecting me to answer that honestly?" THWAP as paw meets head. Voodoo squints at her as he rubs the impact site - this isn't the first time.

"You're a terrible daemon."

"And you're a drunken asshole."

"Not always."

"No, just mostly."

"Not even that."

"Whatever. Try putting them on. They might make you look smarter. God forbid they actually make you smarter."

"Okay, being my daemon and all, aren't you supposed to not, y'know, be a total bitch to me?"

"Yup. That was before you used your gig in the Navy as an excuse to go on bender after bender and leaving little ol' me to clean up after you. Do we still have that 'Frequent Drinker' mug you got from the Casino?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because one of these days I'm going to lace it with habanero sauce. Give you a taste of your own medicine. God, I never want to see Dubai again so long as we live."

"Way we've gone, that might just happen." Voodoo puts the glasses on -

- and snatches them off.

"Jesus fuck. Don't know if they're Freeman's or not, but whoever they are, they're blinder than a fuckin' mole. Goddamn..."

"Dumbass."

"Shuddup."

Therefore, we have a SEAL holding his head in his hands, trying to stave off an impending Killer Headache Of Death, and a honey badger lounging on her back, about to doze off.

Do what you please.

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"Gordon. Hey."

It's a tiny voice and other people around him probably wouldn't even hear it unless they were specifically looking for it, but Gordon pauses the instant it starts speaking.

"I think we're on the right track this time. Head to your right. Slowly."

"I hope you're right, Sati," he mutters, and turns carefully in that direction before starting to pick his way along as only the truly nearsighted can.

"Speak of the devil...hey. Einstein."

"What now?"

"The man himself, at your eight."

Voodoo, still squinting because goddamn that's a strong prescription, turns in his seat to see Gordon.

"Hey, Freeman." He holds the glasses up. "These your specs?"

"I sure hope so."

Gordon makes his way to the booth and cautiously settles in. As he holds his hand out for the glasses the tiny voice notes, "Eli was playing with his glasses and lost them two days ago. We've been trying to find them since."

"No shit?" Voodoo eyes the glasses before he hands them over. "Don't look like he broke 'em."

Kids. He wouldn't know.

"Yes, well." Gordon sludes them on and immediately begins to breathe easier. "He's been careful not to break other people's things ever since he and Hope cracked a lens on Shephard's gas mask. Now he comes and tells me immediately when something goes astray."

"Shephard still has that fuckin' mask?"

Sure, he probably keeps it for some far-off contingency, but as far as Voodoo can tell, it's not like anyone's NBC-capable in their world. And those things are a pain to wear.

"Says he wants to show his kids what Poppa had to wear before the Combine," says Gordon. "He keeps most of his old stuff."

"Gordon, on the other hand, only has those glasses from before," pipes up the tiny voice. "There's hardly anything left of the HEV suit."

Voodoo nods. "Right, right, you're some kind of...fuck, forgot the name, but some kind of politician now, right?"

"Only for as long as it takes for the system to get into reasonable shape," says Gordon. "Two terms were enough for George Washington, and he didn't have science to get back to. The amount of catching up I still have to do..."

"I'm afraid anything after that is going to go over his head, Dr. Freeman," Maia says.

"Well, gee, thanks for that vote of confidence."

"You're welcome. Should I fetch the Dear Abby clippings while I'm at it?"

"Shit, at this point, one of those fuckin' Mexican puppets would make a better daemon than you."

Gordon just shakes his head, but there's a tiny giggling sound from under his shirt. "Mr. Redondo could probably arrange that, you know," says the voice as Gordon fishes the moss-lined marble out and sets it on the table. "The puppets, I mean."

Voodoo squints. "Who?"

"Manny," Maia replies. "Miguel's brother?"

"Oh, yeah, him." Voodoo turns to Gordon. "Miguel's a breacher in one of the teams. Good kid. Hell of a shot."

"Sounds like it runs in the family," says Gordon. "Probably why so many of them survived. One's an accident, two's dumb luck, three or more and there's some kind of exceptionally dangerous talent in the family tree."

"Is that why it's just you and Eleanor, but Shephard's got Dan and Janet and his mother still around?"

"Wouldn't surprise me," says Gordon, who no longer has to have any kind of stake in being thought some kind of terrifying destroyer all the way down to the genetic level.

Voodoo shrugs. "Hell of a runner, too, but they all are. The team guys, I mean."

He starts rapping against the tabletop with his knuckles, concurrent with a beat that's only in his head. "So what's the sitch on your side?" By that he means situation.

Gordon blows a breath between his teeth, thinking. "We've found another cave system the Vortigaunts should be able to establish themselves in," he says. "Less vulnerable than the Mongolian ones and the caves around here."

The Vortigaunts' numbers, on the surface, are pretty impressive. Their breeding populations.... that's another story. When Bernice's people reported that they'd found a cavern in what used to be the Indochina peninsula full of oddly glowing pools that seemed to do the more injured explorers good just by touching the waters, he knew he had to contact the Vorts immediately.

"Doesn't seem to be much sign of human mothers slacking off in naming their children after me, which is starting to get embarrassing... oh, and Alyx got it into her head that Shephard's hand needs an upgrade. She's building a new one out of Legos, just in case he's willing to let her anywhere near that arm."

"Myself, I'm just trying to keep people from flying off in sixteen different directions until we've got enough of an agricultural and industrial base for smaller communities to support themselves. People don't realize how precarious our situation still is during the lean times of year."

MCed MoH RB, TVDF, part trois

This is as close as I get to a no-glasses, no-smiling Gordon icon.

Re: This is as close as I get to a no-glasses, no-smiling Gordon icon.

Re: This is as close as I get to a no-glasses, no-smiling Gordon icon.

Re: This is as close as I get to a no-glasses, no-smiling Gordon icon.

Re: This is as close as I get to a no-glasses, no-smiling Gordon icon.

Re: This is as close as I get to a no-glasses, no-smiling Gordon icon.

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