Who: Vic and Ruth Where: the resource hangars, the Dog Park What: touching base about some things, Ruth has a suggestion When: 1/10/19, morning
Vic wasn't sure why he'd been dumb enough to expect that they'd have time to lay low after coming home. There'd been the news about LBJ zombie siege the day after they'd been broken out, but the Dog Park wasn't in any shape to lend assistance in time -- especially not with their officers as known wanted, escaped convicts. And then Rodeo had gone and gotten his ass captured or what the fuck ever happened to him just yesterday. It seemed like this shit would never fucking end. He couldn't help but think that he was getting too damned old and tired to deal with all of it.
Still, life had to go on and shit. So when Vic woke before Marina and the rest of his family, he didn't wait long before he dragged himself up and out of the RV, in search for what they were due for that morning's food and water rations. "Morning," he greeted Ruth, reaching his left hand out in waiting. His right arm hung at his side, his shoulder swollen and stiff.
It wasn't Ruth’s habit to make a whole lot of small talk in the hangar -- that was a task much more suited to some of the other workers there -- but she allowed a few exceptions for people who weren't dumber than rocks. It was only a small number of the camp’s residents, but it included Vic. So as he approached her and offered a greeting, Ruth nodded in return and almost smiled. After glancing down at his outstretched arm, the left one, she met his gaze, one eyebrow lifting slightly in a silent question.
When she spoke, it wasn't to voice that question, but instead to send the only other member of the resource team nearby on an errand to fetch something from the back of the hangar. Once Someday -- who'd gained his moniker thanks to his repeated empty assertions that he was planning to patch, someday -- was out of earshot, Ruth turned back to Vic.
“How's life on the outside treating you?” Doing two things at once, as always, she bent to grab one of the pre-measured jugs of water stored beneath a nearby shelf, and swung it out for Vic to grab. The motion had the practiced ease to it of something she'd done repeatedly.
"Can't complain," Vic replied while his mind silently filling in the rest of that sentence: too much. Jug now in hand and at his side, he hoped the food wouldn't be too heavy for his right side to bear. "Good to be home. Even better to be out of that fucking hellhole, if you know what I mean."
It was a known fact around the Dog Park that the Scherbatskys were all sociable little bastards who could talk your face off, every single one of them, a fact that certainly extended to Max and even Marina, if she wanted to. Ruth was an infrequent guest at their table and, compared to the lot of them, was practically mute. Vic never shied away from an opportunity to get her in conversation. "What about you? Shoot anyone who gave you trouble while I was gone?"
“Thought about it once or twice,” Ruth confirmed, with the slightest smirk. “Wasn’t worth the waste of ammo, though.” The food -- a few basics, like rice and bouillon and canned sardines -- would be quick enough to bundle, and she set about efficiently doing just that while they continued to shoot the breeze.
With only a limited amount of time before Someday came back, she cut right to the chase. Glancing Vic’s way, she nodded in the direction of the shoulder that had taken the bullet all those months ago. “Still fucked up or fucked up again?” Ruth asked. The tone of the words didn’t direct any accusation his way, just curiosity. “I see how you’re favoring it, standing there.”
Vic couldn't help but look down at the busted up shoulder in question. "Not sure it ever got un-fucked up before I got locked up," he admitted after a moment. He wasn't surprised that Ruth had noticed; she was more perceptive than he was most of the time. Her saying something about it wasn't a surprise, either. But he couldn't help but wonder how hard it'd been for her to figure it out.
"That obvious, huh?" he asked, taking the food bundle from her once it was ready. Its weight was manageable in his right hand, at least. "To tell you the truth, I don't see it getting any better for a long while."
“Obvious enough.” Ruth gave a half-assed shrug, one that involved only raising one shoulder up instead of both. Wasn’t her field, but it seemed like a bad sign that the old injury wasn’t getting better. There wouldn’t be much opportunity for recuperation either, considering the Capitol wasn’t likely to stop throwing shit at them any time soon. After La Quinta, they weren’t just going to suddenly back off.
From anyone else, it'd come off like a judgment that would require some sort of punishment. Ruth had a way of cutting through the bullshit in a way that was simple, though. Just the facts. "Well, fuck," he said, very eloquently. If she could notice, surely others could. How was he supposed to do his job around the Park if his weaknesses were that blatant?
Flipping through the log book for the hangar’s inventory, Ruth made a few notations before adding, in an offhand manner, “And you’re right hand dominant. How’s the shoulder for shooting?” More intent on the answer to her question that she was letting on, she glanced at Vic out of the corner of her eye, weighing his stance again. Obviously he wouldn’t be firing a shotgun anytime soon -- the kick against his shoulder would probably hurt like a bitch -- but a handgun was still a possibility.
"Dunno. Haven't tried, which is probably something that'll give you a heart attack right here on the spot." He'd had plenty of time, but the way his shoulder felt most days meant he wasn't even remotely interested in trying to push it. Vic paused, lifting up his arm to rub his forehead on his forearm, then added, "Guess it's a good thing we been lying low ever since getting back." Sooner or later, though, he'd have to figure something out. He wasn't even sure he could ride his bike anymore.
“Guess so.” Nodding to herself, Ruth dropped the pen onto the logbook and dropped, at the same time, her air of unconcern. Putting both hands flat on the desk, she leaned her weight forward slightly and looked up at Vic. Though he was built like a truck and could probably have bench-pressed a refrigerator before his shoulder was hurt, the injury had clearly taken its toll. And she didn’t like the thought of him unable to use his weapon in a dicey situation.
“You gonna let me show you how to shoot with your other hand, then?” Her lips curved up into a smirk. “For the sake of my heart, if nothing else?”
"Huh." Vic studied her for a moment, feeling oddly moved by the offer. It wasn't a surprise that she'd want to help, considering how long they'd known each other -- which wasn't even all that long, in the grander scheme of things. Still, though, blatant shows of affection, relatively undemonstrative though this was, were hard to come by from Ruth. "Well, I guess you can tell I can really use the help," he said, returning her smirk with one of his own. "Besides, I figure we ought to keep you around."
He knew well enough that Ruth had been joking, of course, but Vic didn't think he could bear losing yet another Resource Manager who was dear to him. He figured he was safer keeping her happy, and as he thought further on the offer he found that he really didn't have any objections.
With Vic’s agreement obtained, Ruth gave a decisive nod and pushed herself up straight again. “Good,” she said, the word coming out clipped as she shrugged back on her well-worn indifference. Her lips pursed slightly as she glanced in the direction she’d sent Someday, checking to make sure her crewmember hadn’t made his way back up to the front quite yet. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to Vic.
“You just go ahead and write me on your calendar, then. Probably won’t take more than one or two sessions, since it ain’t like you’re starting from scratch.”
"Sounds like a plan, then." Vic adjusted his grip on the food and water, then gave her a grateful smile that quickly disappeared as soon as Ruth's crewmember came back into view. "Guess I'll see you around, then," he added, then nodded his head in the direction of his rations before he turned to leave. "Thanks again."
As Ruth watched Vic leave the hangar in an outwards fashion, she frowned thoughtfully. To anyone watching, it might look as though she was enjoying the view of the Enforcer's backside, but really she was just studying the way he carried himself, trying to gauge the stiffness in his shoulder from the way he walked. She turned away without coming to a conclusion, just as Someday came to a stop beside her, carrying the item she'd sent him to fetch at the beginning of her conversation with Vic -- a box of medical supplies.
"Inventory what's inside, then put it back where you found it," she instructed, and so work in the resource hangar continued.