forgivetheinsubordination | IC Contact

[They hurt him in their own ways, all of the young that are struggling to come to terms with what the CDC expects of them. And if Garrus could take their burden on his shoulders, if he could murder in their place, he would. None of them have that luxury.

Once the doors close behind them, Garrus is turning and kneeling, bringing himself down to eye level with Red and putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.]

They will. They'll haunt you. But you won't be alone in being haunted. We'll all carry the weight together.

[No, it wouldn't hit everyone this hard, and some wouldn't be effected at all. But it's better to say 'all' than 'most' or even 'some.' Red doesn't need precision, doesn't need names. He needs comfort. Knowing that the burden isn't all on his shoulders seems like it would be comforting.]

And one day, maybe, we'll be strong enough to protect everyone we want to protect.

[Garrus is proud of Red, though. Proud of the way the boy's changed his tune since their walk in the woods, proud of how he's grasped what this place is going to require of them. He's not trying to hide from it. He's seeing its cost, its reality, and bracing to take that on.]

I'll be with you. Every step of the way, as long as I have any say in the matter. We'll take it a step at a time, but we'll take those steps.

[A gesture has the different CDC-issued guns appear on racks, ready to be picked from. Garrus will let Red choose which one he'd chosen before, and he'll take the same one for ease of teaching.]

I'm glad you're here, Red.

[ The closeness of the turian at his level doesn't bother Red, the boy stopping as soon as Garrus kneels down in front of him, not flinching either from the hand. He keeps his reddening eyes on the face, having nowhere else he wants to put them, nothing he wants to hide when he holds no shame for his misery, though his lips do squeeze and his head dips when Garrus speaks about protection. He's not so sure if strength will be enough to protect everyone, but - something like that would be nice.

His gazes back up to Garrus's face to the end, and he nods. ]

I don't want them to suffer. [ And never has, but it's a different kind of tune from all the times before. The next part he can't say with his eyes open (to have another pair looking back), the last few words being carried out by his breath: ] I want it to be painless.

[ He breathes in after, gazing off when he sees once more. Whatever control he can keep on himself, he wants to keep it, though it doesn't stop a tear from rolling to his mouth.

Red puts a hand on the one that sits on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze before walking to the way that Garrus had gestured before. Looking at the selection he picks out compact gauss gun without much decision, turning back around with it in his hold, level to his stomach. ]

This is the one I have.

[Garrus stands back up to follow Red when he moves, letting him pull out the gun and nodding when Red says it's his.]

And the best way to make it clean, make it be painless, is to learn how to use this.

[Which is why the boy's here.]

Take a seat, Red. First thing I'm gonna teach you is the gun itself.

[He grabs the duplicate one and slowly starts taking it apart, piece by piece, taking the time that Red can copy him.]

To know a weapon is to know all its parts. Know how it works, why it works, know how to clean it and take care of it. When you can break it down and build it back together you have an understanding of it, and then you can respect it.

[They'll need to get to firing, sure. But Red's upset as it is. Garrus wants to build up slowly, not break the boy.]

[ Sit -- Red will sit, somewhere, right where he is if all there is is ground. That doesn't bother him, and when he does he's still carrying that something heavy in him. Harder now to act so casual or act at all as anything but the boy he is. Breathing, allowing the time granted to continue to try and steady his emotions through his breathing.

Red doesn't actually expect to be waited on to copy - but he will as soon as he realises, fumbling some for the slide lock that allows separation with a weapon than feels stronger than his own hands (how come? aren't they meant to be in a simulation room now...?). ]

You respect it?

[ There's some surprise in the question. ]

Yes.

[He's not surprised that Red's surprised. People who haven't handled weapons before... Well, it makes sense.]

This isn't a rake or a shovel. This isn't a wrench, or a tool that has a civilian application. A gun is designed to kill. There's no hiding its purpose and there's no other use. When you pull out a pair of scissors, you're often not intending harm. But when you pull out a gun, you're ready to hurt someone or something. You have to respect the weapon, and respect the intent behind its use.

[The disassembly is nearing completion, and Garrus starts laying out the parts.]

[ When Garrus puts it like that, it makes the weapon in his hand - being pulled apart into a useless shell, but still a weapon - all that more of a foreign, unnatural thing in his hold, makes him want to be that more distant from it. ]

How? How do you respect something... just made to kill?

[ He's still copying, laying out each piece as Garrus does. Near symmetric, but that much care isn't given. ]

[He blinks, pausing, trying to figure out how to explain it better.]

You... Mm. If you came upon a predator, you wouldn't just run up to it, right? You'd respect its space. Stay away from it. Let it do its thing. Generally speaking. It's a little similar here. You don't toss a gun around like it's a toy. You don't point it at people or things you don't wanna shoot.

[He resumes setting out the last few pieces as he keeps talking.]

You keep it clean. You keep the safety on at all times when you're not in or about to be in combat. That making sense?

...I guess.

[ At least, he's trying, even if he doesn't sound so sure. But comparing a predator to a gun, that sort of situation... ]

Isn't that just safety?

Safety plays a part in it, sure.

[Maybe he's explaining this poorly. He takes two clothes as he tries to find a way to continue, passing one of them to Red.]

Let me try a different angle. And these are for wiping down the pieces, while we talk. You respect your pokemon. You treat them with care and pay attention to how they're doing, give them what they need, and expect them to do their job. Right? A gun doesn't need to eat, but it needs ammo. Doesn't need water, but it needs to be cleaned. If something jams, you've gotta take care of it. And then it does what you need it to do.

[ Red takes the cloth, but not until Garrus says does he know what to do with it. He murmurs a sound then, picking up one of the pieces, but his eyes are more adjusted on the turian than what he holds in his hands.

There's a pinch inward of his lips. ]

I don't expect my pokémon to do anything. I mean- we each do something for the other, but it's not a job. [ Is it being picky? But it rubs at him wrong, just how his thumb is likely being too stiff on the other side of the cloth with the piece he's supposed to be cleaning to actually wipe it properly. ] A trainer tells a pokémon how to battle, but we work together.

[ But he pauses, casting his eyes down to his hands. Ah. ] ...That's...what you mean. By respect. Giving it proper care.

[At first he thought he'd still explained it wrong, that it wasn't making sense and was instead just insulting Red and his relationship to pokemon, but then it clicks. That's a relief. For all that Garrus talks, he's not always great with his words.]

That's what I mean. You think you can manage that?

[It's an out. As much as Garrus believes that everyone needs to be up to speed on Green and ready to protect in as many ways as possible, he feels a little guilty about doing this to the young.]

[ Red nods, murmuring a sound in acceptance, but then adding properly: ] Yeah.

[ Zack cleaned his sword often, and if a gun needed the same maintenance to keep it in shape, then it was just a necessity in properly owning it. Like making sure dust didn't get trapped inside a game console. ]

How often do you do this?

You need to do it after every time you've fired it. After the fight, not after each shot. Personally...

[Garrus shrugs.]

I do it every day. My guns are my tools, my area of expertise, what I use for eating and fighting. You don't have to be that focused. Just pay attention to the gun, clean it every few days if you haven't used it, and it'll serve you well.

[ That reminds him of a time, of Garrus telling him about his career. Once part of the force, and then leaving it to track down criminals independently of the police system. When the turian shares it, he can understand why he used the word respect than care. When he speaks, there's respect.

It separates the actual function of the weapon in Red's mind, but that quickly returns when he places the piece down and views the weapon - broken down - from his own position. It reminds him of certain people, but not officers. No one so lawful. ]

...Before I came here, the only people I saw using weapons in real life were criminals part of a group. When I think about this, I always...remember them.

[ And he shouldn't, he can't -- not if he's to go through with it. So he diminishes the thought, interrupts that line of thinking by picking up another piece. ]

You just clean it like this? [ Voice lifting, he points to the barrel. ] How do you clean this part? Doesn't the inside need cleaning the most?

Inside needs cleaning the most. And you wipe it down like this. Run the cloth through the barrel, like so.

[He demonstrates, tucking the cloth in and then using a small, round-bristled brush to push it through.]

A slender stick will work as a substitute. Just make sure you're not scraping the sides with it. If you're not sure you can keep your hand steady, wrap it in the cloth first.

[Slowly Garrus works through cleaning the gun, making sure his movements are easy to follow.]

And there's always criminals using weapons. Makes it easier for them to commit crimes. But that doesn't make anyone who uses them a criminal. It's all in how and why you use them. Your motivation.

[ Oh, that brush. He attempts to get the cloth in first as Garrus demonstrates, but it flattens and misses in his hands, and so he takes the next suggestion (though with a stubborn frustration in doing so), putting the cloth over the end of it.

It's easier, and gets the job does. Red watches and listens, looking down once he's gotten the idea to resume. ]

Mm, I know. [ He does, if because of his time here, because of people like Garrus. It was just hard to forget. ] People use pokémon the same way too. Like tools, all for their own gain. They know what they can do and they abuse it.

[Done cleaning, Garrus starts tidying up his tools. The cloth is folded, the brush neatly tucked away, everything put in order for the next time he uses them. His voice is conversational and calm.]

You don't associate pokemon with those criminals. You associate pokemon with how you use them, yeah? And unless you suddenly change, you're not gonna be running around committing crimes with your gun. Though I'm warning you now.

[Garrus' voice changes, becomes amused.]

I hear about you holding up some... I don't know, noodle shop, with a gun, I'm coming to find you. Fold the cloth up when you're done, and we'll get started on putting the gun back together.

[He starts already, taking the first step nice and slow so Red can follow along.]

[ Despite himself and the ears ready to hear something serious being said, he scoffs at what comes (though, holding up a noodle shop is still a serious offence). But it's true what Garrus says, Red supposes, though not every association previously connected can be taken apart and reassembled so quickly.

Not, either, when the use of the weapon will very much be the same (different motives, but still-). Red picks up the pieces with a murmur and hurries over to Garrus's side, rearranging the pieces in his hands into a more comfortable hold. ]

You like noodles? [ By eye, he's already trying to guess the way everything goes back into place, but it's all metallic and hard and foreign in his palms. ] We can get some when we're done.

[ Just like it's a normal day, like any other day. ]

[He knows baggage takes a while to unpack. Red won't be comfortable with guns tomorrow, or even next week. But small steps forward are enough for now.]

I like them. They can be a challenge to eat, but I like them. Used it as an example because I know a guy who ended his crime spree at a noodle shop. Broke out of the hospital he was in, climbed a pretty important statue. When C-Sec, police officers, basically, came for him, he threw his drink at their car so it burst into fire. When they jumped out, he took the vehicle. Still on fire.

[As he talks, he's slowly fitting things together, one piece at a time so Red can follow.]

Crashed it outside a noodle shop because he got hungry. But yeah. Let's finish up and get noodles. I can tell you about other people on my crew, if you want. Noodle-shop guy was one of them. Young, though. Maybe a year and a half old when that happened. So the moral of the story is never give an overgrown toddler a gun.

[ It's a story more captivating than his own distractions, that when he catches the movements of Garrus's hands beneath his line of sight on the turian's face, it doesn't connect to Red that he should be following, or paying attention until then. A quick "How did you...?" for the part he didn't see, and then he's catching up. ]

Uh - sure. [ Slowly, anyway. His mind's still on a particular part of that story. ] He was really a year and half old when that happened...? How long is a year where you're from?

[Garrus chuckles.]

He's a special exception. Sorta... Built. Made. Still a person, definitely a person. But most people don't start running around that young.

[He slows down with what he's doing, taking more time so Red can catch up.]

Though the turian year's a little longer than Earth's. Our day's a little longer, too. Takes some adapting, at first, going from ours to yours. And then going from that to here.

[ Built. It brings the image of robots on TV in cartoons, a bizarre image to have at the time. Red pays more attention to the table and what they both do, Garrus first and him next, but it's not without his mind still thinking over what Garrus has said. ]

It sounds amazing... You have a crew you travel with, and you can go to so many planets and see so much. [ Red glances over. ] How many people from your crew are here too? You mentioned one before - a woman, when I told you about Green.

It's... It is amazing.

[His voice goes quiet and a little wistful.]

You form a sort of family. You rely on them, they rely on you, small group...

[Despite the fact that he wouldn't wish this on any of them, he misses the ones who aren't here.]

We've got four of us here, right now. Tali, Joker, Shepard. Mm. Joker's real name is Jeff, Jeff Moreau, but we never call him that. Had a few others pass through, stay with the Neheda for a time. Mordin, Liara, Thane. Don't think you had the chance to meet any of them.

[ He shakes his head to confirm. ] I've never heard of them before, but I'd like to. All of them, and how you met. Was it back when you were part of the police force?

[ Because it's what Red remembers Garrus telling him, being part of the law and then separating himself from it to get criminals that couldn't be reached along those lines. ]

No, it... Well. I met a couple of them when I still was with C-Sec, but that's when I left it. The criminal we were after was too big to operate within their lines. Met Shepard, joined up with her a few hours later.

[Shepard, Kaidan, and Ashley, with Joker and Chakwas on the ship. Such a small start to something that wound up so huge.]

As far as how we all met... Different times, with all of the ones who are here or have been here.

[It's a decent topic, though, for while they work on finishing up putting the gun back together again. It'll be something nice and light and easy as he gets Red ready to shoot, too.]

Met Shepard first, out of all of them. I was trying to get my case to go further, and she was the next witness. Passed her, wished her luck. Not too much later there was a hostage situation going on, Shepard and I saved the hostage, took out the thugs. That's when I offered to join. Who next?

IC Contact - Consignment

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