3nanashi | (no subject)

Trowa likes the garage. It's quiet, it's usually pretty empty of people, and it's got square kilometers full of fascinating machinery. Trowa is a mechanic at heart, and sometimes he privately misses the chance to get shoulder-deep in an engine. Milliways provides for that handily.

He's also Trowa, which means he also likes to explore it to make sure he has a clear and current mental map of all those square kilometers of deceptive and occasionally shifting geometry.

He rounds a corner, and --

. . .

That's new.

Trowa's eyes narrow slightly as he regards the wall. Its utilitarian concrete is covered with scratches and scrawled over with white chalk, delineating X-ed out circles and a single word:

S O L D I E R

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

hadyougoing

It's true, the garage usually is pretty empty of people.

Not always, though.

Down the rows of parked vehicles-- cars and spacecraft being only slightly in the majority-- someone steps quickly behind a column.

From:

3nanashi

You know what happens when you assume.

It makes a corpse out of you and me!

Which is why Trowa tries not to make any. He doesn't turn, but he's monitoring -- now and always, but especially now.

You never know.

And one of the first things you learn as a mobile suit pilot is to think in three dimensions, and to pay attention in three dimensions, no matter what you can or can't see.

It's chalk; hard to tell if it's recent or not. There's not a lot of breeze down here, let alone rain or passersby. And he doesn't know the Loompas' cleaning schedule.

But it could be.

And for a guess of who wrote it --

If he had to pick from among the people he knows, he'd have a solid guess. But Milliways has a lot of patrons. Too many variables.

Trowa glances back over his shoulder, unhurried.

From:

hadyougoing

There's no one immediately in sight.

Nothing seems to be moving.

(She's behind a large truck, feet obscured by the big tires. She's trying to quiet her breathing.

But she doesn't like letting him out of her sight.)

From:

3nanashi

Time for an experiment.

"Not very subtle," Trowa says conversationally to the (not necessarily) empty air.

From:

hadyougoing

There is no reply.

Her breath catches in her throat, but that should be too quiet to be audible from this distance.

Of course, who knows what he can hear.

Deliberately, she turns her head and cranes her neck to try and get a look through the truck's rear windows.

From:

3nanashi

Inconclusive.

That's not really unexpected.

"I know it's you," he says, face impassive and voice come on, do we really need to play this pointless game?

From:

hadyougoing

That almost makes her want to laugh.

Instead, though--

From behind the truck comes a loud, pained cough, hastily smothered in her jacket sleeve.

From:

3nanashi

Ah.

(Amateur.

So maybe it isn't Ava. But maybe it is -- she's got her skillset, but it's got holes, and she learned it late.)

Trowa starts walking, unhurried.

He doesn't look on edge. But this is very familiar, and comfortable, like trading a scratchy ill-fitting suit for an old soft sweatshirt: this slipping back into the keen, ready alertness of battle. Like it or hate it (and Trowa's done both), part of him will always find battle home.

From:

hadyougoing

The more she tries to stop the coughing, the louder it seems to get. She straightens with effort; she knows she's got to move, making noise and staying still is fatally stupid.

She swallows.

And quickly, but as quietly as she can, she edges along the truck and towards the center of the row. It's darker here, and a few of the vehicles are big enough to afford decent cover.

She drifts towards Trowa.

From:

3nanashi

If it is Ava -- which is a hypothesis not yet clearly supported or disproven -- then this is . . . not how he would expect this to go.

Although he's kept the possibility in mind for a while. Mostly because Trowa considers paranoia a basic life skill.

Still. Tentative evidence against.

He keeps walking, steady, unruffled. With room to move; with all his senses alert.

"This is a pretty one-sided conversation," he points out, mildly. "Not very friendly."

Yes, he's aware of the irony.

From:

hadyougoing

Ava's going to run out of space soon, one way or another: it's tricky navigating between the parking spaces, and the larger vehicles give way too quickly to cars and bikes too short to hide behind.

The light nearest Trowa flickers, giving an unsteady buzz.

It's gone a bit chillier down here all of a sudden.

From:

3nanashi

It's Milliways. It probably isn't a wiring issue.

Someone wants him to freeze. To halt uncertainly for a moment, scared or wary or spooked, and give them a chance to do -- something.

Trowa doesn't make a habit of doing what people want him to.

So instead, Trowa pushes off instantly into a high, twisting flip meant to carry him a landing crouch on the trunk of a nearby monster truck. (And meant also to give him a good look around.)

From:

hadyougoing

It's probably a good thing he moved right then.

As he arcs through the air, the light that was right above him shatters, spraying glass to the floor and dimming the immediate area.

Ava herself executes no acrobatics whatsoever. But she does glance up sharply as he lands.

From:

3nanashi

Well then.

Trowa holds his position for the moment, the truck's cab between them, and regards Ava over it.

From:

hadyougoing

Ava is looking back at him, expression intent but tough to read.

"Hi, Trowa."

From:

3nanashi

"Hi."

Blandly.

Beat.

"Having fun?"

It might even be a genuine question!

(S O L D I E R)

From:

hadyougoing

"Always do."

She doesn't move yet.

From:

3nanashi

She's . . . looked better.

Trowa lets his face relax infinitesimally, in the Trowa equivalent of I'm-listening eyebrows, and waits.

From:

hadyougoing

"What are you doing here?"

From:

3nanashi

Having lights shattered at him, apparently!

Trowa would, another day, say Taking a walk.

"Reconnaissance."

They're synonyms!

From:

hadyougoing

She blinks.

The lights flicker.

"Find anything?"

From:

3nanashi

"Somebody's been redecorating."

From:

hadyougoing

Ava looks at him in incomprehension.

And without letting him slip out of view, she starts picking her way slowly towards the center aisle, where bits of glass lie scattered.

She doesn't like it right here. She feels hemmed in.

From:

3nanashi

Hmm.

Trowa follows her with his eyes, and with most (but not all) of his attention, and doesn't otherwise move.

Apparently he feels a monster truck makes a good vantage point.

"How about you?"

From:

hadyougoing

Ava's sneakers hit the outermost glass shards with a dainty crrrunch.

Absent, her voice low, "Not really."

(The demon is present but not physically here. It can smash lights and make it cold and send shivers down your spine, but it can't take a shape-- or anyone else's.

Ava finds it comforting, clawing at the doors in her mind.

Doors are made of wood, and wood comes from trees ...)