[Skye isn't sure what else to say on that topic either, so she sits down on the end of the bed with a sigh, elbows resting on her knees, drink in one hand.]
... Thanks, though. For worrying.
[She tries to study him for a moment. Trying to work out what sort of adult he is. She's known all sorts in her short life. And despite being 25, she still doesn't count herself as one of them.]
So ... how long have you and Jesse known each other, anyway? [Since he asked her. Turn about is fair play, isn't it?]
[Saul's pretty convinced "worrying" is part of his job description, at this point. He should really charge more.
When he sees her watching him, he figures there's a question coming, and he figures it's going to be personal. He hopes it's nothing about Jesse's personality; he doesn't even know where to begin with excuses for that one.
Luckily, what she asks is something he can answer honestly.]
I don't know. Just an impression, I guess. You guys seem closer than the typical lawyer-client relationship. Or... guy who holds money and acts as a sober companion-client relationship.
Well we were also kind of being held captive at the time by unknown forces; I'm pretty sure he was imagining imminent torture and death. People say weird things under pressure, I wouldn't take it too personally.
Like I said, a couple of months ago. An unknown third party arranged for the kidnap of several imPorts so they could run Hunger Games-style tests on them. Chuck 'em into an arena, make them battle deadly obstacle courses or each other. We didn't know that at the time, though-- we just woke up in what looked like a motel room from the 70s, only with no way out. Jesse was freaking out. ... Okay, we were both freaking out.
[Saul is silent as those details work their way through his mind. He can't really picture any of what Skye just told him, except by imagining her and Jesse —
I don't have a theory yet, I just don't think it was the Russians. If it was, why the whole charade? Why the challenges? Nobody's been able to trace it back to the Russians with any tangible proof, so why not just kill us all outright? Or better yet, run medical tests on us to get samples of our DNA so they can make their own superheroes? It just doesn't add up.
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... Thanks, though. For worrying.
[She tries to study him for a moment. Trying to work out what sort of adult he is. She's known all sorts in her short life. And despite being 25, she still doesn't count herself as one of them.]
So ... how long have you and Jesse known each other, anyway? [Since he asked her. Turn about is fair play, isn't it?]
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When he sees her watching him, he figures there's a question coming, and he figures it's going to be personal. He hopes it's nothing about Jesse's personality; he doesn't even know where to begin with excuses for that one.
Luckily, what she asks is something he can answer honestly.]
About a year.
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... Huh. For some reason I thought it would be longer.
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Heh, don't let him hear you say that.
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[At first, he looks both bemused and skeptical, but that quickly gives way to something —
Softer.]
Really?
[Shit, that sounded vulnerable, didn't it?]
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Wait, what?]
When did that happen?
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Nope.
He'd rather not.]
Jesus.
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But we spent the time in captivity telling each other stories about stuff from back home. When we weren't arguing about what to do, anyway.
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It's almost enough to make him want to stop drinking, but he figures he probably should keep going if this is the conversation they're going to have.]
How'd you get out?
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[Saul is suddenly very grateful that he can walk through things and turn invisible. No more kidnappings for him, no sir.]
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[There goes that thought.]
And — "unknown forces," you said? Not the Russians?
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A lot of people think it was the Russians. I don't buy it.
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[Another sip.]
What's your theory, then?
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[That's fucked up. Saul considers how fucked up it is while taking a long drink.]
Do you think it was just — I dunno, someone who actually read the Hunger Games and took the plot a little too seriously?
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