I didn’t think it would be a really great idea to refuse when they were holding me and my brother in a windowless room!
[ He could have taken them, he knows this. Could have easily twisted out of their grip, decked a couple, done a few easy take-downs with Sam there, and they could have left the casino relatively unscathed.
Except for the inevitable blowback when the fucking mob would undoubtedly put a hit out on them, endangering not only the people who came with them - Midge, Lance, Wade, Garak - but the Displaced as a whole. People who had never set foot in the casino and probably never would. People like- ]
Ian. There wasn’t a choice. [ Nate’s pleasant buzz is starting to feel compromised and he doesn’t shy away from eye contact now. ] And I figured the least I could do is make it useful, I’m- I can keep tabs on their issues with the corporations. Try and figure out if they know which mercenary groups work for which companies, narrow down the options on which one sent them to kidnap us a few months ago.
[ Does all of that make complete and total sense? Yes. Is he happy about any of it regardless? Resounding no.
His lips press together in a gentle unhappy line, though the soft cloud of pot in his mind keeps him from dipping to outright upset. His fingers card through his hair, catch about midway through as some of the curls lock together. He abandons the motion, and the tendrils sort of flop dejectedly over onto one side.
Nate doesn't shy from the eye contact, but Ian does a little - it's just a slight dip and sideways look wherein his eyes land on his glass as he settles heavily back into the couch. ]
I just don't want you to get hurt, man. It sounds fucking dangerous.
[ Nate watches the aborted gesture, the way Ian's hand loses interest halfway through and his hair falls over his face again. Loose, almost leisurely, tinged with the anxiety of someone who is feeling the sentiment through the thick curtain of recreational influence. It isn't a pleasant sensation to know that you're a problem, but neither is Nate unfamiliar with the expression, the concern, and though it would be easy to give the carefree and rote response Ian probably deserves something a little more sincere. ]
I know.
[ It's fine, I'll be okay, there's nothing to worry about, I've done stuff like this a thousand times.
Hollow, empty words. Things he can say, but won't. No matter how confident he is the stakes are still high. ]
I'm gonna be as careful as I can be, which...I know probably doesn't mean a lot to you, but. I mean it.
[ There's quiet for a second, words in his head that he turns over a few times to weigh them against the sober part of his brain and determine if it's a good idea to actually say them. Weed makes his filter drop a little, he forgets for a few seconds at a time to actually think before he speaks.
What he's thinking about saying feels a little too real-sounding, though, and responding to doesn't mean a lot to you the way he almost does... Yeah, he'd replay it later on without being stoned and probably agonize over it. Kick himself like a moron.
In the end, the sand sifts under the surface and it's smoothed back into glass with the absent motion of his tongue passing over his lips. ]
Alright, man, but if you get into trouble...
[ You have his number. Does it come across as that, or does it come across as if you get into trouble keep it away from me? Can't be sure it comes across the way it means it to, he's second guessing himself a little with that pot-based paranoia.
Just to be sure, he follows it up with a blithe, self-deprecating offer. ]
I can make some neat fucking... walls, or something.
Usually the implication is don't bring it back to my doorstep but the hesitation makes him feel like the meaning isn't the same. Like Ian is trying to choose his words deliberately, so as to not be misunderstood - or maybe that's wishful thinking, that Nate's poor decision making won't drive someone away. The follow-up summarily clears him of doubts but it's also such a devastatingly funny addendum that Nate snorts into his Sunny D. ]
Well, Hell. [ He says with a distinctive air of teasing, smile wry over the lip of his glass, brightened by the levity. ] I could go for some neat walls.
[ It drives a soft, amused scoff out of him. Yeah, yeah, shut up, maybe he's not the best at delivering the appropriate amount (but not too much) of sincerity while stoned.
Good to have the lightness back, and it's written in his expression somewhere even as he lifts his eyes to shoot Nate a look.
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[ He could have taken them, he knows this. Could have easily twisted out of their grip, decked a couple, done a few easy take-downs with Sam there, and they could have left the casino relatively unscathed.
Except for the inevitable blowback when the fucking mob would undoubtedly put a hit out on them, endangering not only the people who came with them - Midge, Lance, Wade, Garak - but the Displaced as a whole. People who had never set foot in the casino and probably never would. People like- ]
Ian. There wasn’t a choice. [ Nate’s pleasant buzz is starting to feel compromised and he doesn’t shy away from eye contact now. ] And I figured the least I could do is make it useful, I’m- I can keep tabs on their issues with the corporations. Try and figure out if they know which mercenary groups work for which companies, narrow down the options on which one sent them to kidnap us a few months ago.
no subject
His lips press together in a gentle unhappy line, though the soft cloud of pot in his mind keeps him from dipping to outright upset. His fingers card through his hair, catch about midway through as some of the curls lock together. He abandons the motion, and the tendrils sort of flop dejectedly over onto one side.
Nate doesn't shy from the eye contact, but Ian does a little - it's just a slight dip and sideways look wherein his eyes land on his glass as he settles heavily back into the couch. ]
I just don't want you to get hurt, man. It sounds fucking dangerous.
no subject
I know.
[ It's fine, I'll be okay, there's nothing to worry about, I've done stuff like this a thousand times.
Hollow, empty words. Things he can say, but won't. No matter how confident he is the stakes are still high. ]
I'm gonna be as careful as I can be, which...I know probably doesn't mean a lot to you, but. I mean it.
no subject
What he's thinking about saying feels a little too real-sounding, though, and responding to doesn't mean a lot to you the way he almost does... Yeah, he'd replay it later on without being stoned and probably agonize over it. Kick himself like a moron.
In the end, the sand sifts under the surface and it's smoothed back into glass with the absent motion of his tongue passing over his lips. ]
Alright, man, but if you get into trouble...
[ You have his number. Does it come across as that, or does it come across as if you get into trouble keep it away from me? Can't be sure it comes across the way it means it to, he's second guessing himself a little with that pot-based paranoia.
Just to be sure, he follows it up with a blithe, self-deprecating offer. ]
I can make some neat fucking... walls, or something.
no subject
Usually the implication is don't bring it back to my doorstep but the hesitation makes him feel like the meaning isn't the same. Like Ian is trying to choose his words deliberately, so as to not be misunderstood - or maybe that's wishful thinking, that Nate's poor decision making won't drive someone away. The follow-up summarily clears him of doubts but it's also such a devastatingly funny addendum that Nate snorts into his Sunny D. ]
Well, Hell. [ He says with a distinctive air of teasing, smile wry over the lip of his glass, brightened by the levity. ] I could go for some neat walls.
no subject
Good to have the lightness back, and it's written in his expression somewhere even as he lifts his eyes to shoot Nate a look.
Half-mutters: ]
Better than your walls anyway, Winnesota.