fandomhighdorms | Around the dorms [Early Friday afternoon]

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Around the dorms [Early Friday afternoon]

Hilshire had stopped at a 24-hour pharmacy (which he described as 'very convenient') to pick up a simple arm sling and an over-sized pair of tweezers. He'd wanted to remove the two bullets from her arm right there in the parking lot, but Triela had shot him a sour look which had made him shrug and start driving. She pulled them while they were on the road. Most of the trip was spent in awkward silence. The one time Hilshire asked how she was she bit out a tight "Fine" and he let it drop. She wasn't fine, really. Triela hated getting shot.

Eventually they arrived back in fandom. Triela kept her irritation under control and just nodded her head as Hilshire told her that he'd be in touch within the next week about her trip back to the Agency for repairs. As if she didn't know how things worked.

He helped her unload her cello case from the car and then they stood there awkwardly without quite looking at each other. After about a minute he sighed and nodded. "You did very well, Triela," he said as he climbed back into the car and drove off. Triela stood there, stunned, two expressions fighting for space on her face: a pleased smile (her handler thought she did a good job) and an annoyed glare (of course she did a good job; that's what she did!). When neither expression had managed to win twenty seconds later she settled for a tired sigh.

With Hilshire out of range again she had to deal with all the conflicting emotions that brought on. Relief that he was okay, relaxation because the conditioning's constant push to impress him subsided, and a tightness in her chest at the fact that she couldn't protect him now. Rubbing her face irritably, she knew that she'd spend the next week or two being insufferably irritable.

Triela took a deep breath and awkwardly picked up all three oof her bags with just her right hand. She still had to get her stuff back to her room before crossing campus to re-store her weapons. One arm in a sling and the other balancing her bags precariously, she trudged back to her room.

[People should feel free to catch Triela anywhere around the dorms, including her room.]

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"You look like you got beat up by a building," Ender said, kindly, as he passed her by in the hallway. He'd taken a moment to consider actually talking to her, and recent events had fallen out towards the yes option.

Presuming she wasn't going to ask questions again, but even about those, he didn't feel quite as fussed.

"I'm fine," Triela groused.

She shrugged her left shoulder in the sling. "Just got shot."

Jack caught sight of Triela on the stairway. "Oh, jeez, you need help with those?" he asked, pointing at her...well, the sling and the bags both.

"I couldn't tell," Ender countered, dryly, his eyes flicking down to look at the sling. "I didn't take you for the 'getting shot' kind."

"I was in a hurry," she explained with the strained patience of someone who doesn't like having her competence questioned. "And since I'm basically bullet-proof I can get some significant tactical advantages by not needing to take cover."

"You're bullet-proof?" he observed, suddenly a little interested. "That's got to be useful."

"Mostly," she corrected flatly. "I took two shots to the arm, and I'll have to get the skin and muscle replaced, but it doesn't slow me down any. The sling's just to keep it immobilized so I don't tear anything else loose."

She'd stopped walking by this point, but instead of putting down her baggage, she just held it. The awkward weight didn't seem to bother her.

"Nope," Triela said easily. Normally she'd remember to thank him for the offer, but she was still upset with Hilshire so she didn't say anything.

He blinked a few times. "But... the sling?" It was partly just to be polite and partly...people shouldn't have to carry bags if they have a sling. "I mean..."

Ender's eyes flicked down to the baggage, then up along the line of her arm, as he made a note of her stance and the strength that belied her frame. "Looks like that's not all you've got," he observed.

"It's all part of the package," she agreed. "Turns out there are a number of benefits to having most of your body replaced with cybernetics."

There were some major disadvantages too, but he wasn't asking about those.

"This?" she frowned, shrugging her left arm. "It's not a problem. Just a couple of bullets."

"Like walking away from being shot," Ender said, his eyes back on her arm, wondering how far the cybernetics went. "I take it back."

It took about three years of being out of Battle School for those words to come out.

"Take what back?" Triela blinked, frowning slightly. Then she kicked herself mentally. The jumble of distracting thoughts and emotions Hilshire had left behind was obviously making her stupid, but she'd asked, so she just let the question hover there.

"Just a--I'm not sure if you know, but from what I hear, bullets aren't a good thing." He quirked his mouth into a smile. "Tell me you look better'n the other guy?" Hey, if you get in a fight...

He looked up at her eyes, and shrugged. "Seems like being shot or not isn't as important as I thought." There was a compliment in there somewhere.

"Oh, yeah, well..." Triela trailed off with a sigh.

"I'll have to go back to Rome to get patched up. The artificial skin and muscle doesn't heal, so they'll have to surgically replace them." And until then she had to keep the whole thing bandaged up nice and tight to prevent bleeding.

"Oh, definitely," Triela's grin of satisfaction wasn't a very pleasant expression. "I took two 9mm slugs in the arm. He took a 12-gauge flechette round in the spine. I'm pretty sure that means I won."

The part of him he still wasn't sure he wanted to deal with took that bit of information and stored it, in case he'd need it. On the outside, Ender nodded. "Whoever's in Rome must think you're pretty useful all around," he said. "Good planning on their part."

That...was a little scary. "I'm not even sure what a fleshy is, but it sounds like you won. Ow." He did a little thing with his back to make sure it was still there. Yep. Good. "Okay." It wasn't so much a word as an exhalation. "You sure you're good with the bags?"

Triela wasn't able to suppress a snort of wry amusement at that observation. "You don't build a cyborg, train her to kill people, and assign her a handler just for fun, you know. Of course they find me useful."

That, too, was filed away in his mind in the dusty 'useful information' filing cabinet in Ender's mind, the one that'd been shoved all the way to the back. "Like I said," he repeated, "Good planning." He looked at her arm again. "I take it your handler called."

"I'm fine." This time she remembered to add "but thanks" to that.

She sighed again. Reminders of Hilshire she didn't need, thank you very much.

"Just got back, yeah. I had to go clean up someone else's mess." Again.

Ender didn't have to ask her if she'd cleaned it. He could figure that one out on his own.

"Good job," he offered her instead, even if he didn't really agree, even if just thinking about having to 'clean up a mess' like that was enough to make him feel a little unbalanced, again.

"Yeah. Thanks." Why, yes. That was sarcasm in her voice. She didn't really care about Ender's opinion of her skills, in case he was confused on that point.

Then she relented just a bit. "I'm the best. The Agency is lucky I was in the area. It would have been a lot messier if they'd had to bring in one of the other teams."

Ender hadn't been confused, and as always, he let the sarcasm droop off his back, because he didn't care about it as much as she didn't care about his opinion. He listened instead, and when she was done, nodded.

He didn't say anything in response; he figured the nodding got his point across, or rather, his understanding, better than anything he'd say. "Then all I can tell you is to have a good trip to Rome."

Triela's eyes rolled impatiently. "I suppose I'll have to, then."

Not that it would be all that bad. She'd see the other girls again. But she'd have to deal with Hilshire again, too. Like most things in her life, it'd be a mixed bag.

Ender nodded at her again, and without more than a, "Bye, Triela," slipped past her, back into the hall.

She waited until he was out of earshot before rolling her eyes and saying "bye" in return.

That Ender kid was messed up.

"No problem. If...you....become less fine...I'm around." Yeah. There's no good way to phrase that. "If I'm needed." He gestured to the bags and everything and smooth, Jack, smooth.

"I'm-a...yeah." He made a "I'm going that way" gesture over his shoulder.

"Okay," Triela nodded distractedly as she got moving again.

Jack, she thought, was a very messed up kid.

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Around the dorms [Early Friday afternoon]

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