suicidemission | (no subject)

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He’d told her nine and abruptly left, fleeing the situation like it was a hive of bees chasing after him. He’d promptly gone back to his room where he’d taken a cold shower, drank a gallon of water to free himself of the warm, lingering buzz that he’d obtained from either the alcohol or her presence (he couldn’t be sure what was truly the cause), then sat on his bed and vented at Max for several hours – Max, who very patiently sat there and listened to all of it.

He didn’t have a lot of input, though.

When Chuck had at least some of his sense back, he takes a proper shower and puts on clean clothes and finds an ancient bottle of cologne stuffed in the bottom drawer of his dresser that, on further inspection, expired about three years ago but still smells okay, and shoves what he’d had on and his previous, soaking wet set into the laundry chute.

He kills more time by walking Max through the ‘Dome and ignores most people that talk to him, allowing only Miss Mori to pet his dogs head before he swings by his old mans room, pawns the animal off on him with barely a word (save for insistent pestering as to her name - Rhoda, it suited her), then doubles back to her room where he raps on the metal twice and waits, hands behind his back, face affixed with the usual, surly look he was so often seen with.

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It's okay, Chuck you'd definitely know if Rhoda was putting her hands in your pants for any fun reasons. She just doesn't have pockets, see, and you do, so you get to carry her stuff. Think of it as practice for when you two really start dating and she makes you carry things like her phone and her lipstick.

"He's gorgeous," she murmurs, not needing to play it up for his benefit. Striker Eureka really is a glorious machine, huge and hulking and powerful. "Awesome, in the original sense of the word." As in inspiring awe in those who look upon him.

There's a little smile on her face as she watches the Jaeger pass before them, but she doesn't say anything else.

Her words having him snatching little looks at her to make sure that she’s being serious and she’s not jerking his chain around. She doesn’t seem to be though, and he’s pleased – it’s nice when someone actually appreciates Striker around here.

“Ever notice how a lot of pilots refer to their Jaegers as a ‘she’?” He leans against the wall as the go up, up, up, one ankle crossing over the other as he centers his weight. “People think it’s like how naval officers refer to their ships as ‘she’, but it’s more than that. When y’share a mind and body with a hunk of machine, you get – I dunno. Sounds crazy, but snippets. Little…scraps of sentience.” He’s pinching his fingers together on his right hand to demonstrate.

“Striker’s a he. I know it.”

She is being serious, and she lets him steal suspicious looks at her without meeting his gaze, letting him see her in what is presumably her most honest state.

Her attention turns quickly to him when he starts talking, though, her eyes flashing with interest. Rhoda loves learning new things, it's why she's got a graduate degree before she can legally drink, it's why she went into the field she did. New information gets sucked into her brain quickly and eagerly, and this is something not many people know about.

"Yeah?" She turns her attention back to the Jaeger in front of them, blowing out a breath through pursed lips.

"That is so cool."

“Yeah. There’s stories about Jaegers moving without their pilots in ‘em.”

He watches the interest flicker over her face and he’s pleased he’s come up with something they can discuss without it getting awkward or antagonistic. One point to Chuck Hansen – he’s not a complete fuckup.

“You leave residue. In each other, and in the Jaeger.” He gestures towards the approaching conn-pod before folding his arms again. “They say the Drift is a two-way street, pilot to pilot. People forget that the Jaeger is involved, too.”

"So one of the reasons you swagger like you do is because of Striker?" she teases, looking over at him and winking.

She thinks his swagger, like his accent, is pretty sexy, though. Even if it does make her laugh.

"Maaaybe," he elongates the word, letting it roll off his tongue as the lift stops.

"Mark V Jaeger, best ever built and piloted by the best there is?"

He spreads his hands and smirks, the doors opening off to the side.

"How can I not?"

She laughs again, rolling her eyes at him as she walks past him out the open doors.

"Good thing you're not letting it get to your head."

He holds the doors for her, then catches her hand when she goes too far.

"This way," he says, tugging her back around to walk the length of the catwalk the circles Striker's massive pod.

Where before she had been holding his hand with only one of hers, now she wraps them both around his, picking her way behind him along the catwalk.

"This is...very high up," she says, chancing a peek over the edge. "I never was afraid of heights but there's a tree and then there's this..."

Good thing she has Chuck here to cling to.

He chances a look over his shoulder and he can't help but smirk a little. It is high. People don't realize how high until they get up here and not many other than techs and pilots get to.

"Yeah. I forget the exact height." He eyes her she's; they're boots, but still. "Don't worry." His hand tightens on hers, just a little. "You won't fall."

"If I do, I'm taking you down with me," she threatens, jostling his hands pointedly. "I bet you'll make a good landing pad, lots of muscle on you."

"Think I'd be a pancake, doll."

He grins lazily at her, then starts moving again, step by step by step, until they're at the foot of a ladder.

"Up there. Want to go first?"

"But you'd be a pancake cushioning my landing."

The ladder gets viewed with a little trepidation, but Rhoda's a brave girl, so she just nods and starts to climb.

"No staring at my ass, now," she chides, well aware that this will make sure Chuck does exactly that.

"Well now that you've mentioned it, how am I supposed to resist?"

He's grinning at her, eyes twinkling just a little bit. He's thoroughly enjoying himself - especially now. Maybe stargazing wasn't such a bad idea after all.

She turns her head and grins at him over her shoulder, throwing in a wink for good measure.

She may be a little nervous, but it doesn't show in how quickly she scales the ladder, her grip sure and secure as she climbs higher and higher.

He's pretty impressed with her, actually. This isn't exactly an easy journey - it's high, it's pretty freaky, and now she's got to climb a ladder to get on top of the Shatterdome.

Then sit there alone and wait for him to get up after her.

Which he does pretty quickly (after staring at her ass most of her ascent), coming out of the hole after her and settling in, rubbing his hands on his pants.

"Not a bad view, right?"

Rhoda has this inability to be seen as weak by anyone, it makes her do reckless things. Like climb up a rickety ladder so that she can sit on top of the Shatterdome.

She's scooted off to the side a little so that Chuck can have some room when he comes to join her, her knees tucked in close to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. She's too busy staring with rapt attention up at the sky to see Chuck emerge, and the only answer he gets for a minute is a distracted hum.

Finally, she turns to him, and even in the darkness it's obvious her eyes are sparkling.

"It's beautiful."

It really is pretty incredible. They're out in the middle of the Pacific somewhere with nothing around them but water and the night sky. It's clear, the storm gone like his phone had said, and constellations glitter overhead like diamonds on a black blanket.

When she looks at him with that face, with those eyes, he knows he made the right decision to bring her up here.

"Glad you approve."

Hong Kong is behind them, which means that most of the light pollution isn't ruining their view of the stars overhead.

No, they get a stellar view of the night sky, and while the constellations aren't that different from what she knows — she was just in Lima, after all, and their latitudes aren't that far off — they're still plenty different from what she remembers back home in New York.

He's sitting closer enough to her that she can lean over and press against his side.

"Thanks for bringing me up here."

He adjusts a little bit so that she can lean against his side, resting his hands back behind him so he can support their weight.

He definitely underestimated stargazing.

"Figured I owe you one, yeah?" For, you know, unintentionally mocking her.

She chuckles quietly and turns her head so she can press her lips to his cheek.

"Consider yourself forgiven."

Well done, Chuck.

She tucks herself back in against his side, her head resting back against his shoulder, and starts to point out each constellation as it wheels slowly above them, pointing up to the stars as she describes the stars and the stories behind them.

Heat rises in his face, but he doesn't say anything because anything he might say would either cheapen the moment or come out awkward as fuck and it'd just be awful.

So he accepts the kiss, the forgiveness, and lets her ramble to him about stars and constellations and the history behind him.

And he actually listens. He doesn't fake interest or yawn or count the minutes. He just listens to her, enjoying her voice, her enthusiasm, and her presence.

It's...really nice.

Chuck's a warm weight pressed to her side, and he's silent but in that encouraging kind of way that just has her prattling on and on about the random things she knows.

Eventually, she peters off, feeling almost embarrassed.

"Sorry," she mutters, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Stars are kind of my thing."

There's a long beat of silence before she sighs and continues, fiddling with one of the seams on the back of her gloves. "My parents died when I was six and I put into foster care. I moved around a lot; nobody really wanted to adopt me." Not with all the medical attention she needed, the help moving, eating, dressing. She'd been more trouble than she was worth, basically, the little burned girl who wouldn't talk to anyone. "But no matter where I was, what family I was living with, I could always look up and and see the stars and they would be the same."

"Don't be sorry. I'm not complaining."

And he's not, really. He's listening, he's interested - as much as a Jaeger pilot can be interested in astronomy - and definitely not complaining.

Her words have him sighing a little, but he doubts she wants pity and he's shit at that anyway. Instead, he slowly curls an arm around her and carefully pulls her in closer to his side.

"Mum died in 2014." His voice is pretty distant, not sure why he's saying all this. Maybe it's because she got personal, maybe it's because he hasn't gotten 'personal' with anyone, ever. His Dad knows everything he knows, but this is different. He likes this.

"Kaiju attack, Sydney. Dad raised me."

She goes willingly enough, tucking herself closer against him, nestling into the warm curve of his arm.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, sliding her arm around his waist and squeezing him a little.

"Is that why you became a pilot?" she continues, just as quiet. "Because of your mom? ...Or because of your dad?"