Ep 0.5 - Now THIS is a Gun - Closed
Mar 16, 2012 7:30:53 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Mar 16, 2012 7:30:53 GMT -5
Ironhide hadn't had any words to say about Shadowrunner's former unit leader, or the unit she'd called cohort - wasn't his place, wasn't his to remark on or make a call on - and he'd kept a respectful distance from the subject. Let her say what she needed to say, when she needed it, and just try to be there when she needed it because he knew what lost and missing cohort felt like but cohort you'd seen deactivated with your own optics was so many levels beyond that he could barely imagine the state he'd have been in. Shadow, for all she seemed to undervalue herself at times, had held up amazingly well.
That, though... that drew an irritated snort from him, because by all records Labyrinth had been a good unit commander but he sure as Pit hadn't been any kind of specialist and if that was where Shadowrunner was getting her misconception from - well. Ironhide had a professional fragging opinion of her former weapon configuration, based on a function worth of being a top ranked specialist, and it wasn't flattering. And a further opinion on mechanisms who made hash out of something because they knew the bare basics and thought they had any kind of specialty because of it.
"Shadow, bitlet," he told her, "yeh ain't wastin' mah time. Even if yeh were it's mah JOB, but yeh ain't. Yeh had good ideas, yeh listen, yeh don't do headlong stupid scrap, an' yer gonna be a natural with those systems in no time." Sighing, he reached out to loop an arm around her shoulder, reeling her back in close again. "It's easy t' have 'expectations' when yer being outfitted with somethin' any youngling could use. No offense t' yer cohort, an' maybe th' mech had reason at th' time, but Ah can't help feelin' it's irresponsible as a commander t' be sendin' yeh up against 'Cons when yeh can barely scratch their paint. AH send yeh up against 'Cons, Ah want yeh punching holes through 'em an' leavin' scrap behind. Takes a little more work, but Ah think th' end results are worth it."
He rubbed a thumb against the back of her neck in an easy, comforting gesture he'd have used with Bluestreak as he talked, and found that a thread of fondness-belonging had crept in amidst the pride-approval-satisfaction through his field. Instead of throttling it he let it go - he was fond of her and she did feel like she belonged with them - and was only a little surprised at himself to find that the threads, wound together, formed a very faint and tentative glyph of cohort, guardian to youngling.
That, though... that drew an irritated snort from him, because by all records Labyrinth had been a good unit commander but he sure as Pit hadn't been any kind of specialist and if that was where Shadowrunner was getting her misconception from - well. Ironhide had a professional fragging opinion of her former weapon configuration, based on a function worth of being a top ranked specialist, and it wasn't flattering. And a further opinion on mechanisms who made hash out of something because they knew the bare basics and thought they had any kind of specialty because of it.
"Shadow, bitlet," he told her, "yeh ain't wastin' mah time. Even if yeh were it's mah JOB, but yeh ain't. Yeh had good ideas, yeh listen, yeh don't do headlong stupid scrap, an' yer gonna be a natural with those systems in no time." Sighing, he reached out to loop an arm around her shoulder, reeling her back in close again. "It's easy t' have 'expectations' when yer being outfitted with somethin' any youngling could use. No offense t' yer cohort, an' maybe th' mech had reason at th' time, but Ah can't help feelin' it's irresponsible as a commander t' be sendin' yeh up against 'Cons when yeh can barely scratch their paint. AH send yeh up against 'Cons, Ah want yeh punching holes through 'em an' leavin' scrap behind. Takes a little more work, but Ah think th' end results are worth it."
He rubbed a thumb against the back of her neck in an easy, comforting gesture he'd have used with Bluestreak as he talked, and found that a thread of fondness-belonging had crept in amidst the pride-approval-satisfaction through his field. Instead of throttling it he let it go - he was fond of her and she did feel like she belonged with them - and was only a little surprised at himself to find that the threads, wound together, formed a very faint and tentative glyph of cohort, guardian to youngling.