[ She's so disarmingly friendly... why this??? He almost wonders if she hasn't mistaken him for someone else, or if she hasn't met him before (apparently this is his second stint in this place, how alarming) and she's just being coy. There has to be an explanation...

The curl of her shoulders around her knees, the spill of her hair over her shoulders. It's an odd mismatch to the sterility of this place in general; she radiates an odd sense of presence, one that he can't quite put his fingers on. ]

You're fishing.

[ He says, after a beat. A quiet joke in return for her playfulness, something that might have been accusing if not for the slight huff of breath that smooths out the edges of his words.

Cue laugh track at her asking if he wasn't in trouble, though. He's not even sure where to even begin with that, so he's gonna. Leave it well enough alone... stop bullying him, Angela!!!!!!!!! ]

Same as you, though. They're comrades. [ And then some, but that's a clusterfuck he's not going to touch. For someone so gruff, he says 'comrades' with a stupid earnestness; they're not his real family, they were never his to have, but goddamn if he doesn't feel for them. ] Can't think of a time when I haven't been in trouble with them.

[ Because that's just how it is, right. ]