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[Ringer arrives in just under twenty minutes to the area, wondering where FDR went, what being relocated means, and why he seems to have forgotten about work. She almost invited him to visit her at Alpha's, she was so worried, but this was easier and probably safer. Alpha liked his privacy, after all, and not many knew about his house in District Four.

She tugs at her backpack and tosses her hair back over her shoulder. Yeah, she was shot only a few days ago, but the wound is already entirely healed. There's only a faint line of a scar that she was told would disappear in a few more days' time to as evidence of her trauma. Ringer tries to be tough, but every once in awhile she succumbs to the fear of her situation - and this place is nothing but reasons to be afraid in context.

At least she's developing some friendships, for whatever they're worth. Anchors to hold her, tethers to keep her grounded, reasons to lose herself when they inevitably die. Because they always do. But she pushes all that aside, because FDR's situation is more important right now, whatever it is.]

[He's there just a few minutes later, and he doesn't exactly look his best. There's a pallor to his skin, a glow that just isn't there anymore, and pants that hang off of him just a tad looser than they had before the riots started. He's dressed simpler too, blue jeans with a bloody stain on the pants, a white t-shirt.

But there's a smile when he sees Ringer, a casual two fingered wave until he's close enough to actually talk to her.]

Man, it's good to see you up and about. Looking good.

[She immediately frowns and his smile does little to alleviate her concerns. Like Zombie, FDR is the type to smile even when the worst is happening. While he doesn't necessarily look the worst she's ever seen him - physically yes, but not emotionally - he's definitely not doing well. For her own part, Ringer actually looks more well rested than she has in weeks. The benefit of finally caving and sleeping in a safe place.]

What's wrong with you? [She asks levelly, almost offhandedly. It's not an accusation as to his behavior, but a sincere question of what is wrong with him, what's going on and why he looks the way he does.]

[He could make some shit up. He's good at that. But Ringer's good at seeing through it. And she asked him not to lie to her. And he's trying, trying this honest friendship thing. It's new to him. While he was open with Tuck, he wasn't always honest with him.]

Nothing. I'm fine now. I am, really. Just feels like a lingering hangover.

[Ringer looks at him, listens to his reply, and her brows pull together with both skepticism and concern. The girl crosses her arms, silently, debating between wanting to know what happened to him and letting it be enough that she believes him now. Finally, she sighs and shakes her head a little, giving up on willing disclosure. As much as she's curious to know, she tries not to pry when she can stand to do so.]

Can I help?

[He waits. He's not sure whether she'll let it go or demand more. He'd rather not tell her. Not for any other reason than he hates looking weak. And he had been. He had crashed because he had refused to quit.]

Just picking up the pieces now. My place in D4 got trashed. What about you? Why the hell couldn't we meet at your place, Ringer? What's going on with you?

[She's not surprised when he doesn't offer to fill in the blanks, but that he turns around and asks her for her own details is less than thrilling. Ringer will oblige because she has no reason not to. He's seen her at her weakest already and is apparently still around. As long as he doesn't take to playing overprotective big brother, they'll be fine.]

I wasn't at home. I think there's a spare room in my house if you need a place to stay. I'll find out and let you know. [She shrugs to show that the whole situation doesn't matter. Which it does, or she wouldn't shrug.]

Wait-what? [She thinks there's one. She'll find out.

She hasn't been home.]

Where are you staying?

I'm going home after we talk. "Home." [She adds some air quotes at the repeat of the word. Nothing is home anymore, even back in her own world. The closest she can come is being around the people she cares about, the ones who care about her. That's why she stayed elsewhere.]

I stayed on base during the riots, then with a friend. Where were you? [She gives him a pointed look. Ringer doesn't owe him any answers and, while she'll give the ones she feels like, the lack of reciprocation is noted.]

[There's an understanding nod. Home. Yeah. He gets it. He was never emotionally attached to any location. A bed was a bed. But after his place in D4 got trashed, he definitely felt a little violated.]

I was working. [And she reads into the fact that he didn't stay anywhere during the riots, that he didn't stop, well, then there's not much he can do about it. He could lie. But he doesn't feel like lying. Not right now. Not to Ringer. Evasive however, well, it's hard to kill every old habit immediately.] My place got trashed, hole where one of my walls used to be. So I'm staying at a friend's extra place until my house is built.

[She listens and accepts his answers. FDR's working himself too hard and now he's staying with a friend. As fucked up as they might both be, at least they seem to be pretty good at taking care of themselves when it really matters. That's worth enough that she's not going to worry too much. Ringer has spent enough of her life already mothering her own father; she doesn't need friends that require the same.]

With Whiskey? [He has other friends, she has no doubt, but the vague comments she caught while half delirious make her wonder at FDR's and Whiskey's relationship. It's a subtle way of asking for details without overt prying.]

With Whiske-no. [and he shook his head, a little surprised to hear that question come from Ringer.] He's got a house full of people I've never met. Not exactly the ideal sleeping environment. a friend in District One, Juliett. She's got an empty place she's letting me stay.

[There, now it's fair game for him to ask, right?] Are you staying with Alpha?

[Ringer makes a face at his mention of Juliett. She can't help it. Last she heard, the woman was being taken in by Compliance. And it was Alpha telling her about it, her boss who had a too-sad cadence in his voice for his relationship with the other Callsign to be strictly professional. She suppresses the surprised and slightly disapproving expression away, replaced with only mild surprise at his question.]

I was. [A beat.] Are you spying on me?

[Well, that's an interesting face.] What? What'd she do to you?

And no. I mean-I wasn't trying to. It's just that outside the hospital room, I heard you guys talking. [But that's not really what's important there.] Are you and him-you know- a thing?

She had her memory tampered with. Compliance. [She replies flatly, just in case FDR happens to be unaware. Though Ringer can't really imagine that he doesn't know. But it does push her out into a new space of needing information, where privacy be damned. It sounds nothing like jealousy, instead almost clinical.] What's your relationship with her?

[To the latter, she sighs a little and she can feel her face heating up at his question. Ringer turns her head away from him, an unconscious gesture to hide her embarrassment, even knowing he's likely already seen.] 'A thing?' Are you twelve?

Edited 2015-02-06 03:42 (UTC)

[Several times. But he wonders which one she's talking about. Recently? She didn't mention recently. Or had she? It had been a rough night.] She's one of the first people I met here. Set me up with clothes. Just gave me the loan I needed to build my house. [Because he can't tell her that she's his employer, even if he wanted to.]

[And there's a snort at her response. The lack of an actual answer, but that blush is pointing in a particular direction that has his eyes narrowing in suspicion. And that's something to discuss. But when she throws out an age...well that's something else that's been eating at him.] No. Are you seventeen?

Be careful. [She knows that response. Like Cassie talking about Evan, or Zombie with Nugget, there's a certain stubbornness that comes with familiarity. The tree branch to cling to on the cliff of unbearable truths, a salvation that it's not right to deny even if she wanted him to. Which she doesn't. Ringer's only worried for his well being for now.

At the latter, she looks to him again, blush subsiding. She doesn't like where this is going.] We're not 'a thing.' Yes, I'm seventeen. Does it matter?

[There's a nod. Comments and other information bit back. He understands the warning though. Until...yesterday, she had pinged pretty hard on his danger radar too. Now he at least knew why.]

No? Ringer, you conversation with him didn't really seem--like an employer and employee. [Not that he can talk really, about that particular kind of relationship now, but still.] And I'm just-look, you're one of the most mature women I've met in a while-most of the time. But, he's a lot older and...and you need to be careful too, okay?

[Ringer's almost as worried about FDR's relationship with Juliett because of Alpha's relationship with the woman as she is about the Compliance aspect. It's enough for her to make a mental note to ask Alpha about their relationship later. Maybe he'll even tell her.

FDR's reply to her own situation with Alpha is met with a flat stare. That's all she's willing to offer for his thoughts and worries. She doesn't like that he was eavesdropping on her, doesn't like that he's now apparently judging her for her age, and that he seems to be skirting the line between being a concerned friend and thinking he has a say over what she does in her life.

A moment after he finishes, she finally replies.] Are you done?

[She'll give him a moment to say yes if he wants.] I trust him as much as I trust you, but he knows more about this place. That's all it is.

[Okay. Okay, if she's making that face at him then things are getting a little out of hand. He's not used to seeing that on anyone's face except Tuck. And Tuck usually gave into him. But this isn't Tuck. It's a woman. A teenage one at that. He's out of his depths here. So he'll...drop it.

He's got other ways of making sure she's okay around Alpha.]

Yeah. Done.

[And well. Okay. Once again he doesn't know what to say about that. So. He'll. Just. move on.] You still thinking about quitting?

[Ringer gives him another look, genuinely surprised he didn't push the subject. She appreciates that, really, but there's a small part of her that would rather explain than have to deal with this conversation - or same facsimile thereof - at a later date. Too bad she doesn't believe in exposition without the questions to prompt it.

At his question, she shakes her head.] No. I hate everything about this place, but I don't know what else I'd do here. I want to go home to fight an un-winnable war with whichever of my friends aren't already dead. I don't want to go soft or get comfortable or enjoy my time.

Edited (dialog (tweaking order)) 2015-02-10 05:24 (UTC)

That's- [Another argument he knows he won't win. He's tried time and time again to get her to accept the fact that a little bit of enjoyment isn't a bad thing. The closest he's got to convincing her of that is the weekly pool game. That'll just have to be good enough.]

If you need help. If you can't depend on your partner? Can't get Alpha to answer your calls? Ringer, call me. You don't have to be alone. [Yeah, it's hard to forget everything he heard through that hospital door.] I'll have some free time on my hands.

[Because she may be staying on, but he's got plans to quit the army.]

[If she can't rely on her partner. Alpha's her partner half the time now. The other half is the same partner she had when the crowd separated them and she was shot. Ringer holds zero blame for the man; the situation was unavoidable. She had no qualms depending on him even now, like she depends on Alpha. But the sentiment does remind her of something.

She's about to ask when his remark about being alone catches her off guard. The girl can't even begin to express how deeply and profoundly alone she feels right now. She'd closed herself off for years, but then Razor had taken all of that and cast it aside and, thanks to the 12th System, they were one and the same and she'd been whole. To go from that to this place, where even her friends are gone.. Well, the only reason she hasn't done something stupid like kill herself or drown herself in alcohol are because those aren't really options for her.

She pauses, grimacing, and it's obvious she's holding something back. Rather than give in to her weakness, however, she opts for a diversion. It's too hard to trust FDR when she suspects he's made the same offer to half the dome.]

Why do you have an advanced med kit? [It's the memory of being shot and relying on him that spurs the recollection; he told her to ask again when they were somewhere private and safe.] And why will you have free time?

[She may not hold any blame. But he does. Partners don't leave eachother. They don't get swept up in the crowd. They work together. For all the rough patches he was having with Tuck, he knew the man would have his back, would tell him to duck when a gun was pointed his way. And he'd do the same. Always. That's how partners work.

It's unrealistic maybe, based on television shows like CHiPs and other buddy cop shows, based on his own almost dependent relationship on his partner, but that's how he expects it to be. It's what he's offering Ringer. Something he hasn't offered anyone else. Not like this. He's offered a different kind of partnership to Whiskey. And that's it.

Friends, yes. To a few people. but not partners.

And this. That question. It'd be an immediate lie to anyone else. And that fact makes him move with a little too much energy. Need to know basis, was the order. This isn't a need to know basis. But he wants to tell her.]

Got a new job. That I can't talk about. Being a soldier in the army? Just isn't really my thing.

[Ringer likes to pretend that she can remain detached, that she picks up friends and cares about them, but that she's more capable of remaining robotic in dealing with situations than anyone expects. It's mostly bullshit. The truth is that the walls she's built help hide that fact from the outside world, but sometimes little things, like FDR's honesty right now, wiggle through and remind her how much it hurts to be alone.

Thanks to a childhood of pretending, she's able to hide that pain, to simply raise an eyebrow in response to his admission.] Is it a good thing or are you in trouble?

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