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who. York (

tradecraftdude)
what. Marco finally drags his ass back to The Quad to explain his shiny new job to York
where. The Quad
when. right now!
warnings. gratuitous amounts of snark, probably

It's a slow night at The Quad. Davrax's plan to cash in on the water shortage by encouraging people to drink an inadvisable amount of alcohol was never a very sustainable strategy; after a couple of days of that, the bar reeks of stale ryncol sweat and The Quad's previously enthusiastic patrons are no longer quite so keen to dive into a hangover with so little water around. So it's slower, tonight, and rather than serving drinks York's spending most of her shift catching up on the shit-awful backlog of cleaning that needs to be done around here.

So she's behind the bar, trying to get through the almost ludicrous pile of dirty glasses and shakers and empty bottles that have piled up behind the bar in the last couple of days of the rush. York isn't exactly the world's biggest fan of cleaning, but she'd rather wash a few dishes than confront the horror that almost certainly awaits her in the bathrooms. She's not sure there's any human with a strong enough stomach to brave that mess. She'll leave that to her batarian coworker. But hey, at least she's made a lot in tips the last couple of days. As it turns out, dehydration and intoxication do a lot to a person's judgment when it comes to money.

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Marco nearly falls out of his chair as his feet get shoved; he's about to retaliate with a complaint, but even he can't miss that tone in York's voice. He wants to sulk about getting thrown out, but when Arthur's demeanor also makes it clear that Marco should scram, he sighs and trudges for the door.

"Okay, okay, I know when I'm not loved. I'll see you later, York." He holds up a fist for Arthur to bump. "Good luck in there, dude."

Man, York appreciates the fact that Marco is a sharp little thing, but right now she could do without the savvy teen making smart remarks. She just leans against the desk, arms crossed over her chest, and lets Marco and Arthur part ways, giving time for Marco to scoot out of here before she turns to Arthur, eyebrows raised impossibly high.

"Seriously, man? You couldn't have even tried to talk him out of it a little bit?"

Arthur bumps Marco's fist back amenably, and watches him leave, door closing a bit behind him. He looks back to York with his own eyebrows raised up.

"I didn't get much of a chance." This is partly true, but Arthur also hadn't breathed a word of objection when Marco came to him, or turned him away. "He'd already taken the contract when he came to me."

Marco came to Arthur? Well, she doesn't find that too hard to believe. He's pretty new to all this, as she'd expect him to be. Somehow, that fact is a little comforting. But she doesn't look all that mollified.

"Yeah, but he hadn't finished it. So what, a thirteen-year-old asks you for a gun and help killing somebody, and that's it? You don't even blink?" York huffs out a sigh through her nose, raking her hand back through her hair. "Look, I'm helpin' the kid because he's already in deep and I don't wanna see him wind up as an ugly smear in some back alley. But come on, man, you could've kept him out of this mess."

It's probably unfair to lay all the blame on Arthur. Even if Arthur had tried, realistically, he probably wouldn't have been able to talk Marco out of it. The kid would've just gone off to get somebody else to help him. But it's frustrating, and Arthur's an easy target.

Years of dealing Dom Cobb mean that Arthur's able to handle this a little better than if someone he cared about was arguing with him for the first time. It still smarts a little, and more to the point, York has a point - one that might stick to someone with more of a moral code.

He grinds his jaw a little still before responding.

"No, he hadn't finished it, but if I told that thirteen year old no, would that have stopped him? It's Marco," he says, because it is, even if it's younger. "He would have gone to someone else, maybe even been hurt."

And honestly, it hadn't been Arthur's place. It was Marco's life, not Arthur's.

"This way, at least I know what he's up to."

York's not even sure she'd consider herself more moral. She's done an awful lot of questionable things, but -- dammit, Marco's just a kid. To her, that's a whole other ballgame. And what's worse is she knows he's right. She can't even really be mad at him, either, because Arthur was just doing what she's trying to do now -- acknowledging whatever Marco had decided to do, however fucking dumb, and just trying to help him stay alive doing it. She can't be mad at him for knowing Marco well enough to know that he couldn't be talked out of it.

She lets out an explosive sigh, raking both hands through her hair, and she directs her frustrated glare at the wall opposite her instead of Arthur. Pacing a couple of steps, she lets out another noise of dissatisfaction, but it's not really directed at Arthur.

"Sorry," she mutters, letting her shoulders drop. "Yeah, you're right. Can't talk that kid out of anything, not once he's decided to do it." She casts a look outside the back room, through the space where the door was left ajar, and then she looks back at Arthur, pursing her lips apologetically. "I just -- I dunno, I feel about all this, y'know? Can't help but feel like Marco wouldn't exactly want us steering his kid self into the mercs. But I guess all we can do is look out for him, teach him what he needs to know."

It almost bothers York a little, that it's such a big deal to her. She's almost a little embarrassed by it, insofar as she gets embarrassed by anything. She's always had a soft spot for kids, sure, but the thought that something might actually happen to Marco -- shit, she'd gotten along with him back on Sacrosanct, but the truth was she hadn't known him for terribly long.

Arthur's shoulders are tense until she apologizes, and then he relaxes a tiny bit. He's watched her pace the room, and he knows that she's just venting at him.

He treats it like water off a ducks' back, since that's just plain easiest.

"He's stubborn as hell," he agrees after a moment. "And if I thought it'd make a difference, I would have told him no. But better me than one of the aliens," he says, nodding to the slightly open door. "He's a good shot, too."

It's not much of a comfort, knowing that Marco takes to it okay. Not great, no, but he doesn't think telling York how Marco reacted the first time is prudent.

"He didn't like it," Arthur adds after a moment, though. "It's not a game to him or something he shrugged off."

"I know," she sighs, biting at her thumbnail. No, she can't really be mad at Arthur for this, not anymore. And she's already done being mad at Marco, she's told herself that. Yelling at the kid anymore than she had isn't going to help him, and that's what she decided to do, anyway. "I saw him, that day. I mean, it's not like he'd tell me all on his own."

She's glad it wasn't easy for him, in a way. It's not supposed to be easy for anybody, not at first. Just 'cause she can snap somebody's neck without blinking now doesn't mean it was always that way. She glances back at Arthur, her expression contrite. "Thanks for helpin' him. Sorry I blew up at you. It's just -- y'know, this place."

"I knew he wasn't dumb, but I was wondering how you knew," Arthur admits after a moment with a wry sort of look in her direction. When she apologizes he shakes his head.

"It's okay. This place is different," he says. "Merc work isn't my first choice but I don't have a lot of other options going on."

After a moment, he speaks. "I want to eventually get out to that relay they keep talking about. The one that brought us here that's supposedly broken."

"The relay?" York knits her brow, glancing out the door with a contemplative look. She purses her lips a little, chewing on her lower lip. "How? And I mean -- if it is broken, what're you even gonna do? It's not like you're all that familiar with this world's tech. If they couldn't fix it by now, what're you gonna do?"

"What if it's not broken?" Arthur says after a moment, then shakes his head. "I mean, you have a point, I won't know heads from tails. But if I can find someone who does and get us out there, I'll feel better about where we're standing.

"As for the how," he rubs his hand over his eyes. "That's what I'm working on."

"You'd think if there were any experts on the station, they'd have looked already," York says, looking unconvinced, but he's still got her attention. Arthur's always been on the enigmatic side, but she can't fault his judgment most of the time. "Yeah? You got a lead on a way out there?"

"I think some people honestly like it here," Arthur says with a slow shake of his head. He sets his chin in his hand.

"I've been talking to people. I can't just flat-out ask, but I'm gonna see if any of them pan out. Maybe someone wants to get out of here. Or go home."

"I won't lie, it's an improvement over Sacrosanct most days," York says wryly, but the mention of going home makes her hesitate. She hadn't even considered that as an option. She'd long since convinced herself of the inevitable truth, back on Sacrosanct -- that this was it, there was no going home. That had been comforting, in a way. "Go home? Yeah, I'll believe that the day I see it."

Arthur looks at her with a mildly surprised expression, then away again. She'd disappeared before Delta had made his offer, and - well, he wasn't about to tell her he'd made the choice to go home once before.

"I meant someone more along the lines of a native, trying to get back to a home planet. Gotta be someone stuck here that didn't mean to be."

She doesn't like the way he looks away, but she doesn't think too much of it. He knows she's been through a lot, coming to terms with that. Maybe he just feels bad for bringing it up, even by accident.

She looks a little relieved, though, and she nods. "Yeah, pretty sure there are. Hey, there's a cause for ya."

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