[ And by now, she gets that much. It lands as intended. After all the chaos, it's reassuring to know that he's exactly the same form she left him in; a fixed point. ]
Maybe. Some assholes unloaded their entire gun on me. Drove off with it while I was down.
Don't fuck with them if they bring it in. I have dibs.
[ Damn right you can't stop me. Thought, not said. His response speaks for itself. ]
They shot you.
[ Which is Amos-speak for: yeah, of course I'm gonna fuck with them. Doesn't matter that she's okay, for all that means. She still had a whole damn gun unloaded on her. And he doesn't like anyone fucking with his people, so. ]
[ Gonna assume he means the vehicle — should he happen across it, should it end up in his and Cassian's shop. As far as Kimiko is concerned, that's a fairly unlikely coincidence. It sure would make her life easier, though. Instead of dragging herself through this little sidequest by her nails. ]
Thanks. Gotta go.
Don't do anything that'll get you hurt.
[ Not that there's any point in telling him what to do, but — as attached as she is to her SUV, it's replaceable at the end of the day. ]
[ It's all a big if, but. Kinda hopes he does come across it (them) now. ]
Me? Nah.
[ It's interesting, though. What she says. Don't do anything that'll get you hurt. Not a thing he considers much, personally, about his own self. He doesn't take stupid chances with his life, and surviving is the fuel that's fed his life, but at the same time, he acts on things when he needs to. Does what he needs to. Not the only person who's ever worried about him, sure. Not the only person who's expressed it, either. But — those were firsts, mostly, with the crew. His crew. All of them so damn far now.
Here, well. There are threads. Connections. Tethers both loose and tightening, tightening more and more every time they talk. Like this one. He guesses it's a thing she's gotta worry about, when she knows people like him who can't heal.
She says it. The words are in plain view, and he — thinks, maybe. Thinks about them. Not the part about getting hurt, no, just what compelled her to say it, and how it lingers a little longer than things usually do. ]
See ya.
[ Soon, maybe. Adds: ]
Don't get shot again.
[ She comes back, but. Doesn't mean he likes the idea of it. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Maybe.
Some assholes unloaded their entire gun on me.
Drove off with it while I was down.
Don't fuck with them if they bring it in.
I have dibs.
no subject
Not even a little?
no subject
Guess I can't stop you
Please let me know if you see it.
Don't let anyone strip it for parts if they ask.
[ Something something Amos is the only person she trusts with her vehicle in its vulnerable moments. ]
no subject
They shot you.
[ Which is Amos-speak for: yeah, of course I'm gonna fuck with them. Doesn't matter that she's okay, for all that means. She still had a whole damn gun unloaded on her. And he doesn't like anyone fucking with his people, so. ]
I'll take care of it.
[ The vehicle, the situation? All of the above? ]
no subject
Thanks.
Gotta go.
Don't do anything that'll get you hurt.
[ Not that there's any point in telling him what to do, but — as attached as she is to her SUV, it's replaceable at the end of the day. ]
no subject
Me? Nah.
[ It's interesting, though. What she says. Don't do anything that'll get you hurt. Not a thing he considers much, personally, about his own self. He doesn't take stupid chances with his life, and surviving is the fuel that's fed his life, but at the same time, he acts on things when he needs to. Does what he needs to. Not the only person who's ever worried about him, sure. Not the only person who's expressed it, either. But — those were firsts, mostly, with the crew. His crew. All of them so damn far now.
Here, well. There are threads. Connections. Tethers both loose and tightening, tightening more and more every time they talk. Like this one. He guesses it's a thing she's gotta worry about, when she knows people like him who can't heal.
She says it. The words are in plain view, and he — thinks, maybe. Thinks about them. Not the part about getting hurt, no, just what compelled her to say it, and how it lingers a little longer than things usually do. ]
See ya.
[ Soon, maybe. Adds: ]
Don't get shot again.
[ She comes back, but. Doesn't mean he likes the idea of it. ]