wastedcreation | open post

RP here baybee

He's projecting so hard that Devero stops in the street, pivoting to look directly at him. "Are you... sure you don't want to immigrate?" he asks, hunched and a little hesitant. "You can even come in as a refugee, you know, without committing to citizenship right away...."

Tox would definitely get irritated and snap at him if he didn't seem so... Genuine and sympathetic. It seems like he's not just trying to recruit him for the sake of it, but because he's genuinely worried for him.

He looks away, going quiet. He does sometimes want to get out. He is starting to become disillusioned with things.

"I can't."

There are a million reasons he can't, and many of them can't be articulated to Devero, but the pervasive one is a sense of obligation.

Devero just looks at him for a moment longer, the empathetic part of him wanting badly to pry and press. If he knew Seb better, he probably would. But they're mere bar acquaintances, and beyond that, Seb's an outsider. What's going on in his life is not really Devero's business, and he knows it.

"Okay," he says finally, nodding. He puts a hand on Seb's shoulder, turns them both to keep walking. "Come on, let's go get stoned."

He leads the way to where the delegation from the World Government is quartered, which is-- actually just the local hotel. And he doesn't invite Seb in, asking him to wait on the street while he ducks inside to get his kit. He's not technically supposed to have this with him on a mission, so he's got to be a little a sneaky about smuggling it out of the 'barracks'.

He waits until they're around a corner from the hotel to produce the slim metal case from a pocket, showing it to Seb with a wicked grin. "I know just where to try this out, too," he says, an invitation, and leads Seb further through the streets, heading now away from the center of town. At some point, he leaves the road and heads up a scrubby slope. It's not a terribly hard climb-- not for Devero, anyway-- and he grins again as they crest the hill.

Said crest ends abruptly in the sheer face of a desert wash. Back towards the road, where this gully widens out, sits the local sheriff's office. But it's not the office he wanted Seb to see-- it's the rank of dormant Scorpions below, parked in formation around the luxury shuttle that had brought the delegation here. The machines are all bathed in brilliant portable spotlights, ringed by a temporary fence festooned with warning signs.

"Good view, huh?" he asks, telegraphing hope in his eager expression. "Hopefully worth the hike?"

Edited Date: 2026-01-18 04:13 am (UTC)

Part of him is relieved at not being pressed to share things he really shouldn't, but his stomach also twists strangely with some emotion he can't quite identify. Not disappointment, exactly... A certain type of regret, maybe, and dread. Deep down, some part of him knows he was just offered an out he may never get again, and he may come to really wish he'd taken it.

The feeling soon dissipates as he follows Devero through the cooling, darkening streets, waiting where he's told to wait, looking at him with curious interest as he says he knows a spot. He wonders if his new friend is taking them to see the Scorpions, and truly hopes so. The hike and the obstacles are no problem for him, nothing he hasn't done in training a thousand times, and his expression fills with awe as he joins Devero atop the hill and looks out.

"Wow... Yes, definitely." He grins. Jackpot. This is true intel. The location, the weapon type, the level of security around them... He'll get a pat on the back from Damian, and maybe others, for this report.

"So cool..."

Such advanced technology, able to be piloted by a person, like a huge augment, an exoskeleton. It's the kind of thing Atlas is striving toward, a powerful tool of war.

Beaming like he'd arranged this whole thing just to impress his bar pal, Devero sits down on the edge of the little cliff, letting his legs dangle over. The view of the Gov hardware down there is unimpeded from this vantage, but there's enough brush and shrubby trees up here to disguise their silhouettes if they sit a while.

He slides the case out of his pocket again and flips it open, revealing a few neatly rolled joints and a slimline lighter. He offers it out to Seb, letting him have first pick of the (admittedly, pretty identical) herb cigarettes.

Seb sits down on the ledge next to Devero, for a few more moments scanning the setup below under the guise of being very interested in the tech. As the case is offered to him, he finally pulls his attention away, looking at the small cigarettes. He chooses one, lifting it to his nose for a small whiff.

"I'll be honest, I've never done this before." He continues to examine the joint. It smells pungent, and he wonders if it'll have any effect on him.

"They're mild ones," Devero assures him. "I didn't want to risk any of my good stuff getting confiscated." Not to mention the, you know, discipline and whatever that would have come along with smuggling psychoactives on an active duty mission.

He picks a joint of his own and the lighter out of the case, then sets it aside. Sticking the joint between his lips, he lights it quickly, then offers the lighter over to Seb.

"You light it, then inhale," he says, able to demonstrate while he explains. "It'll probably make you cough the first time, so don't try to pull it in deep or hold it. Just in and out." He releases his pull of smoke in a gentle puff.

Hm. So there's a chance he'll feel nothing and have to pretend he's inebriated, whatever that even looks like for this kind of drug.

He takes the lighter, but watches Devero carefully before using it. He looks experienced with it, and unfortunately, it's very cool.

Sebastian nods at the instructions and puts his joint between his lips, lighting it and trying to mimic Devero's inhale.

His body handles smoke better than most, it would seem, because he doesn't cough until the second time he inhales. The stuff smells even weirder now that it's lit, and tastes funny, too.

"What does it... Feel like?"

"If it's good for you, it should just make you feel sort of slow," Devero explains, taking another hit on his roll and pulling it deeper now that he's not modeling for a newbie. "This is a light strain so it might make you feel warm, happy, floaty. Maybe a little hungry, maybe relaxed or uninhibited. It hits everyone a differently, though." Pulling up a leg, he turns to face Sebastian, watching him rather than the still tableau of machinery below.

"If you start feeling nervous or paranoid," he adds, "best to stop. Some folks don't respond to it well."

Slow, warm, relaxed, hungry. Or nervous and paranoid. Two scripts for how to act, should his body be immune to this. He can also watch Devero closely and mimic him.

"Okay." He takes another drag, this one a bit longer, leaning back on his hand to face Dev more. He watches the puff of smoke leave his own mouth and dissipate into the air, then goes back to watching the other man.

"You do this a lot, then? What happens if you're caught?"

He said it would be confiscated, but surely there's more to it than that.

"Not much," he admits with an unworried chuckle. "I'm only not supposed to have it because this is an active duty mission, and it's against regs to bring intoxicants on missions. But since I'm off duty right now, I'll only get dinged if I wobble back into quarters completely stoned or they find it with my stuff. It's a disciplinary ding, but no worse than sneaking a bottle of liquor and getting caught absolutely sloshed off it."

"A disciplinary ding?" Tox's eyes squint. "Like a strike?"

Taking another inhale of the herb, he realizes he is starting to feel a little different. Kind of fuzzy.

"Depends on what you mean by strike," Devero says, and shrugs expansively. "It's not serious. Might have to do domestic duty for the unit for a few weeks, it'll be a mark on my record, that's all."

Sebastian huffs out a puff of smoke, but says nothing in response. That's an extremely lax punishment as far as his own military is concerned. A similar offense in the commune would be punished with extremely intensive training regimens, isolation, or perhaps docked meals (so, Starvation Lite). But talking about that wouldn't be very biologist of him, which is good, because he doesn't want to anyway.

Up here on this cliff, he doesn't need to worry about that. This is as free as it gets for him, and it feels good. Whatever they're smoking starts to kick in, thankfully with the positive effects Devero was describing. A hazy, contented feeling, his muscles relaxing, his eyelids drooping a little.

"I think I'm feeling it," he murmurs quietly.

"Yeah?" Devero sits up a little, clear delight on his face. "You liking it? How's it feel?"

Sebastian starts to snicker, which then runs away into a small giggle.

"You're like a puppy-dog," he says, and then realizes that was a weird thing to say, probably.

"It's good. Feels good." He gives a thumbs-up. Whoaaa. He really wasn't expecting to feel anything, so he's reeling a bit, in a good way.

Weird thing to say, maybe, but it makes Devero tip his head back in a laugh that booms away across the gully. He returns the thumbs up, then says, "That's great, mate." He takes an ostentatious drag on his joint, pulling it in deep and holding for just a few seconds before letting it out.

"I prefer this to alcohol, personally," he admits, pinching the cigarette and holding it out in front of himself in (exaggerated) contemplation.

That laugh spurs on more giggles from Sebastian. The sounds are so different; Devero's laugh is expansive, joyful, untethered to social expectations of decibel levels. Sebastian's is quiet, low and breathy, like his own joy is a well-kept secret that he shouldn't be letting slip.

"I can see why," he says. He's never been drunk, but it seems like drunk people are often angry or sad or throwing up. This feels... Light, easy, like his tightly-coiled brain is being unraveled and all his worries with it.

"You do this a lot? By yourself, or...?"

Does he often meet guys and invite them to smoke with him? Does he do it with his Scorpion buddies?

Devero nods and sticks the herb back between his lips to say, "When I can. When it's safe to. I try not to use it irresponsibly or anything, but it's nice to just be able to feel good.

"It's more fun with company." He leans in towards Seb a little and confides recklessly, "I wish I could hear you laughing. I bet it sounds nice."

"I could use a bit more feeling good, too."

His whole life has been hard and painful. It's been about surviving, about getting through the next gauntlet, about becoming stronger. He's never had a moment to breathe. He barely knows the meaning of the word 'relaxed.'

But he feels it now, rare and probably fleeting.

He's glad it's dark, because when Devero says that about his laugh, his face flushes red. His heart pounds a little harder, or maybe he can just feel it more now.

"Oh, it's nothing much," he mutters. He doesn't laugh often, but the drug and Devero yanked it out of him.

"I like your laugh," he says to the gully, to his own knees, unable to look at Devero at all. "It sounds like..." He's lost in thought for a brief moment, his thoughts a bit scattered now. "Pure happiness."

Devero's answering smile is bright enough it could almost be another source of light up here on this little desert cliff. He has to look away too, grinning and getting hot and feeling like he might float off into the night. "Guess I don't have to worry about it being too loud out here," he says, his motions a little blurred and sheepish. Someone's been scolded for being overloud before, it seems.

He fumbles the case back out of his pocket and flips it open, checking the contents. There's two more pre-rolls in there along with the lighter. He pinches out the one he's smoking and puts it back in-- two and a half, now.

"Here, you take this," he says, offering it out to Seb. "Some feeling good for later."

"I like how loud it is," he says without thinking, able to look at Devero now that the compliment isn't being directed toward himself anymore. His addled mind can't find the right words to explain how much he envies that loud laughter, how free it is, Devero's ability to express what he's feeling without a second thought. Sebastian has never been able to do that without penalty, not even as a child.

"It makes the people around you feel good," is all he can manage to put words to. Really, what he means is that the laugh puts him in a better mood just by hearing it, but that feels too vulnerable to admit.

He decides to put out his joint as well, taking Devero's cue of how much of this stuff is enough. As the case is handed to him, though, he looks alarmed.

"What? No, no, I..." Oh, god, now he has to lie while he can barely form a coherent sentence. "M-My... My home situation isn't good. I can't take this home." Seb hopes he seems young enough to maybe still live with strict parents, or something. With shaking hands, he puts his stubbed-out cigarette back in the case and hands it back to Devero. "Um, thank you, though. It's really cool of you to share with me."

Devero knows for a fact that some people can't stand how loud he is, so he has a pretty good idea that when Seb says 'the people around you', he means himself. Virtues take Dev, when did it get so hot up here? He finds himself opening the front of his fatigue jacket to the evening air, his face flaming and his grin silly.

But then Seb is refusing the case like that, hands shaking and stumbling over his words, and Devero's expansive mood thumps right back down into the dirt. He takes the case back, his expression crumpling. "Seb," he says, and then doesn't know what else to say for a moment. Finally, his motions small and gentle: "You sure? Seems like maybe you need this more than me."

Seb's heart falls into his stomach as he watches Dev's smile disappear.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says quickly, waving his hands, feeling like he's done something wrong by refusing. That he's insulted or disappointed him. "I don't mean to be rude."

Dev asks if he's sure, and he looks out to the gully. "Um..." He tries to think of places he could ditch this case before going underground. Maybe the hidey-hole in a tree he uses sometimes? Then he could smoke whenever he came to the surface alone... But that paranoid feeling is coming up, the one Devero mentioned, and he just feels like somehow, they'll know.

"Maybe I could... Find a place to hide it..."

"No, no, it's okay," Devero hastens to reassure. "If it'll get you in trouble or something, forget about it." He shoves the case deep into a pocket and scrunches down. "I'm sorry, Seb, I shouldn't have-- I didn't mean--" His hands droop a moment, then lift just a little to say again, "I'm sorry."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

and white men who kill god

open post