Who: Sans + Lara + Miles When: Directly after this. Where: Observation deck + Miles' office What: The inevitable aftermath. Warnings: Talk of murder, genocide, and sad stuff probably.
Miles doesn't disagree with that assessment, necessarily, because it's absolutely true. A little pain -- or a lot -- has never stopped him, not for long, anyway. It's the application he doesn't agree with.
"Yeah, well, dying's usually a one-way trip where I come from. It wasn't the pain that got me there, and it wasn't somewhere I needed to go." Miles' hand strays to his throat, rubbing where the cryo prep scars should be but aren't, and then he abruptly tugs up the collar of his uniform. An interesting little new tic he's picked up since his death and subsequent revival. He saw those scars on his future self on Caducus Primary, but they hadn't come from this death. Does he die again, then? God, he hopes not.
"And you remember? All those times, you remember killing -- Chara?" He stops himself from saying that child. Child murder is child murder, but Miles feels uneasily off balance here. Gregor had told him about Chara, that they'd reminded him of Cavilo. Not a very flattering comparison.
"Was it always in self-defense?" Miles pivots and his pacing moves in Sans' direction, though he stops abruptly just a few feet away from the chair. He looks hard at Sans, curious. "How many times have they killed you?"
So many questions. Sans heaves a breath he doesn't strictly need to take, ribs expanding and falling along with it. Grin fixed, he takes a moment to fleck off some of the dried blood from his fingers. It's more of a burgundy color now, a duller version of the deep red that ran from Chara when his magic first speared through them.
"I'm getting a little tired, man." Answers? Not today. Smile sickly and wide, Sans shrugs. "How much longer are you honor bound to keep this up before you call the captains and we get this show underway?"
"Yes, I imagine murder would really take the wind out of you," Miles says dryly, but there's no venom in it. Sans does look tired, he doesn't doubt that. But he's not sure how sympathetic he's feeling right now, either. He's not sure how he's feeling right now, full stop.
"Funny you should mention honor," Miles murmurs, his pacing coming to a halt. "This has nothing to do with honor, except in the very vaguest sense. I'm not honorbound to the captains here. I just wanted to ask you some questions."
He still does, and don't think he's done just yet. He waves Sans out of his chair and gestures toward the door. "I texted the captains before we even walked in here. Shall we?"
Evading Miles implications, Sans gets up and makes a show of dusting off his shorts. He's already talked about himself enough for one night. Murder, whatever you might call it, it was done, and Sans isn't showing any signs of remorse.
"Y'know, there's a word for people like you, buddy."
For once in his life, Miles is patient, merely raising an eyebrow as while Sans takes his time. He doesn't bother with any means to restrain Sans -- there's no point -- and just ushers him out to the corridor with all the air of seeing a friend to the door. Except then Miles takes point and leads Sans toward the lift, glancing over his shoulder.
It's so unexpectedly sincere that it actually tugs a laugh out of Miles, just a short huff with a momentary illumination of his features, but it's a laugh nonetheless. He doesn't not consider himself and Sans friends, but it's such a plain declaration. Good to know, he supposes.
So you're friends with a murder convict... Well, it's not like he's the first.
He's from Barrayar, they do, like, a ton of murders there.
Miles shrugs as they tread into the lift, glancing sidelong at Sans. "Why, because Chara's going to reset the timeline? Convenient though it sounds, I'd rather err on the side of caution. At any rate -- and I doubt this will surprise you -- I have vast and varied experience in damage control."
It's just, you know, usually damage that he's caused.
"We'll see who's right. I'd be glad to be wrong, but vast experience leaves me doubtful." Sans paused, leaning hard against the lift walls as it descended to the Hold level. Thinking, thinking...
"How 'bout this. I'll bet you for it." He sounded tired, but there was the faintest sense of humor. Murder did a number on a guy, especially when you were the one doing the murdering, but knowing his brother was safe for at least the time they'd been talking was enough to help Sans relax a little. "I'm right, you... dance naked on the bar. You're right, your call."
Miles raises his eyebrows. "I didn't know you were interested, Sans," he says, voice utterly dry, but the corner of his mouth twitches. He shouldn't rise to that, but resisting that sort of challenge never has been in his playbook. He leans against the railing in the lift, elbows propped on it, and considers it a moment.
"You realize if you win that bet, I won't remember this conversation. But alright, I'll bite."
"I'm always interested in a good joke." A wink, and Sans is back to looking straight ahead. He's about ready to drop, or at least change his clothes. The blood may be dry, but it's not a pleasant reminder.
"N' I guess that's a chance I'm willing to take. Thought of your terms yet?"
The lift brings them down to the deck with the hold, and Miles shuffles out, waving Sans along. He's seen that bone-weary -- ha -- look before. Not on Sans, but he knows it. Miles' eyebrows twitch, and a strange, small smile steals over his face.
"I'll give thought on that one. There's no rush, right? I either have very little time or plenty of time to decide, so either way, it works out."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
"Yeah, well, dying's usually a one-way trip where I come from. It wasn't the pain that got me there, and it wasn't somewhere I needed to go." Miles' hand strays to his throat, rubbing where the cryo prep scars should be but aren't, and then he abruptly tugs up the collar of his uniform. An interesting little new tic he's picked up since his death and subsequent revival. He saw those scars on his future self on Caducus Primary, but they hadn't come from this death. Does he die again, then? God, he hopes not.
"And you remember? All those times, you remember killing -- Chara?" He stops himself from saying that child. Child murder is child murder, but Miles feels uneasily off balance here. Gregor had told him about Chara, that they'd reminded him of Cavilo. Not a very flattering comparison.
"Was it always in self-defense?" Miles pivots and his pacing moves in Sans' direction, though he stops abruptly just a few feet away from the chair. He looks hard at Sans, curious. "How many times have they killed you?"
no subject
"I'm getting a little tired, man." Answers? Not today. Smile sickly and wide, Sans shrugs. "How much longer are you honor bound to keep this up before you call the captains and we get this show underway?"
no subject
"Funny you should mention honor," Miles murmurs, his pacing coming to a halt. "This has nothing to do with honor, except in the very vaguest sense. I'm not honorbound to the captains here. I just wanted to ask you some questions."
He still does, and don't think he's done just yet. He waves Sans out of his chair and gestures toward the door. "I texted the captains before we even walked in here. Shall we?"
no subject
Evading Miles implications, Sans gets up and makes a show of dusting off his shorts. He's already talked about himself enough for one night. Murder, whatever you might call it, it was done, and Sans isn't showing any signs of remorse.
"Y'know, there's a word for people like you, buddy."
no subject
"Oh?"
no subject
Despite the build up, there isn't even a shred of insincerity in his words. After all, there's nothing funny about sarcasm.
"There's probably gonna be a bit of a stir when this gets out. Don't sweat it too much, if you can help it. None of it'll matter soon enough."
no subject
So you're friends with a murder convict... Well, it's not like he's the first.
He's from Barrayar, they do, like, a ton of murders there.
Miles shrugs as they tread into the lift, glancing sidelong at Sans. "Why, because Chara's going to reset the timeline? Convenient though it sounds, I'd rather err on the side of caution. At any rate -- and I doubt this will surprise you -- I have vast and varied experience in damage control."
It's just, you know, usually damage that he's caused.
no subject
"How 'bout this. I'll bet you for it." He sounded tired, but there was the faintest sense of humor. Murder did a number on a guy, especially when you were the one doing the murdering, but knowing his brother was safe for at least the time they'd been talking was enough to help Sans relax a little. "I'm right, you... dance naked on the bar. You're right, your call."
no subject
"You realize if you win that bet, I won't remember this conversation. But alright, I'll bite."
no subject
"N' I guess that's a chance I'm willing to take. Thought of your terms yet?"
no subject
"I'll give thought on that one. There's no rush, right? I either have very little time or plenty of time to decide, so either way, it works out."