He looks like he's about to bolt, and York eases back in her chair a little. "Hey, settle down, kiddo. I'm not interested in hiring my gun out to anybody, let alone a bunch of mercs. I'm pretty comfortable where I'm at. Besides, wouldn't do you any favors if I did all the work for you, anyway."
York looks him over again, more thoughtfully than critically, letting her head tilt to the side. "You want money and firepower, you better know how to use it. Bringin' a knife to a gunfight one thing, but bringin' a weapon you barely know how to use is just asking for the other guy to take it from you and beat you over the head with it. And while you're smart, Marco, somethin' tells me you're not intimately familiar with guns. Or dead bodies, for that matter." She gives Marco a small smile, a little terse, but it's definitely a York smile. "But as it turns out, I'm pretty familiar with both of those things."
She can't help but wonder what the other Marco would think about all this. He'd seen war in a way York couldn't even imagine, young as he was, and he'd turned out okay, sure, but would he want something like that for himself? And here she is, helping Marco down the child soldier path all over again.
But this is different, in a way. It's a hostile environment, here, and Marco chose his path for survival. Even if York should think it's the wrong one, it's not up to her to make him go otherwise. Besides, he's a smart kid. Smarter than most, at his age. And if she's behind him, giving him a hand and teaching him how to make it, he might turn out all right, too.
"Look, you don't even have to, if you don't wanna," York says, raking her fingers back through her hair. "But I get the feeling that merc groups don't exactly offer lessons for newbies. And just so we're clear, I'm not lookin' to cover your ass, Marco. I'm offering to teach you, is all. 'Cause like I said, I like you, and I don't want you to die, and sooner or later you're gonna have to learn to stare down a dead body without puking."
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York looks him over again, more thoughtfully than critically, letting her head tilt to the side. "You want money and firepower, you better know how to use it. Bringin' a knife to a gunfight one thing, but bringin' a weapon you barely know how to use is just asking for the other guy to take it from you and beat you over the head with it. And while you're smart, Marco, somethin' tells me you're not intimately familiar with guns. Or dead bodies, for that matter." She gives Marco a small smile, a little terse, but it's definitely a York smile. "But as it turns out, I'm pretty familiar with both of those things."
She can't help but wonder what the other Marco would think about all this. He'd seen war in a way York couldn't even imagine, young as he was, and he'd turned out okay, sure, but would he want something like that for himself? And here she is, helping Marco down the child soldier path all over again.
But this is different, in a way. It's a hostile environment, here, and Marco chose his path for survival. Even if York should think it's the wrong one, it's not up to her to make him go otherwise. Besides, he's a smart kid. Smarter than most, at his age. And if she's behind him, giving him a hand and teaching him how to make it, he might turn out all right, too.
"Look, you don't even have to, if you don't wanna," York says, raking her fingers back through her hair. "But I get the feeling that merc groups don't exactly offer lessons for newbies. And just so we're clear, I'm not lookin' to cover your ass, Marco. I'm offering to teach you, is all. 'Cause like I said, I like you, and I don't want you to die, and sooner or later you're gonna have to learn to stare down a dead body without puking."