Literally Pirateninja (shadowcat) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-06-06 16:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, kitty pryde (shadowcat), pete wisdom |
Are you just going to waste away or are you going to do..something. Anything? Besides ..wallow.
Who: Kitty and Pete
What: accusations! Having it out! IKEA conspiracies!
When: Earlier today!
Where: Some rathole
Status: Complete
Rating: PG-13
Kitty kicked Pete's door in, "What the hell do you think you're doing scaring the crap out of my friends!"
Someone just about inhaled his lit cigarette. Instead, he managed catch himself and cough abruptly, so that it went flying into the mucus tissue mountain next to his lawnchair. As he stood up, he set the laptop aside and started stomping on the first signs of smoldering in the pile. Luckily, these days, he slept with his clothes and shoes on, in case of emergency. So he wasn't caught with his pants down, and he wasn't putting out a potential fire with a bare foot.
He was, however, pretty pissed that the door to his new flat had been compromised. He swore that thing was deadbolted and locked. Now the doorframe was all messed up. When did she learn to do that? Grawrr!
"Bloody hell, Katherine! Learn t'feckin' KNOCK would you?! WOT'RE YOU ON ABOUT!"
"Jubilee! You threatened her! " Kitty walked into the room and covered her mouth with her hand, "What's that smell?!"
"I threaten everyone," was Pete's haughty response as he finished stomping out the pile, and then poured a day old half a soda on it. Right out of the can. He rattled that can, so that all of the cigarettes he put out in it, could be heard. Yum. With the greatest of ease, he asked Kitty, "Which smell?"
Wait! Nevermind anything related to smells! Pete pointed an accusing finger at her. Accusingly. "How did you find where I was!"
Kitty stared at him like he'd grown another head. Which was entirely possible. Could that be pity she was feeling? That was pity she was feeling, "The smell that permeates this entire room and makes me want to gag?!" She ignored the second question.
"Eau de Wisdom," he stated in a way that made the question of smells totally explained away, like eau de toilette. He didn't forget the second question, so he posed it again. All while he kicked the door closed so hard, the door look like it was going to stick in the door jam. "How did you find out where I was."
And he did not start coughing because he pressed his lips together into a thin line and folded his arms over himself, to prevent any twitching or jerking while he stifled them. Oh no, NO coughing was getting out.
"I just looked for places known for insects and rats, and cross-referenced with newly rented apartments."
"I'm certain there's probably some privacy laws against that." Damn it. He really wished they'd let him use false identities. Somehow or other, Pete had that sneaking suspicion again - as he often did - that he was in the wrong line of work. He stifled another coughing fit, arching one eyebrow way, way up, in that way that Brits do when they're being snobby and trying to seem above it all. Pete knew damn well he wasn't above it all, but he knew that doing that was annoying and tended to make people leave him alone before he had to get truly nasty and vulgar. "You didn't need to...you shouldn't be here. In fact...I'll get the door for you."
He pulled on the handle a couple of times, to get it open. It was like watching a kitten wrestle with a boulder, to get it to roll a mere centimeter. It just wasn’t happening.
"Fuck the door. Go out the window, ya ninja smart arse."
"I doubt it, it took me about five minutes on Google." She looked around for something to lean on but couldn't find a damn thing that wasn't covered in some sort of roach feces or grime. "I can't believe you'd drive a twenty year old girl around and threaten her at gunpoint!"
"Fucking hell, get out of here," he growled. It was not good when you were poking around in investigations and it took 5 minutes to track him down. Well, he honestly didn't care if he was jumped, and if anyone else had come through that door, like that, they would've been riddled with bullets in self-defense. But now there was Kitty there, to worry about. Furthermore, now he had to clear his name while trying to shuffle her out of the roach pit he lived in.
It was his private army. Shut up.
"I didn't threaten her at gunpoint. That was the other bird, days ago. Pity's sake, Kitty! All I did was ask her questions. She did some...puffle snap crackle pop bollocks at the car and I nearly had her arrested. I changed me mind..." And this next statement explained the amount of fear involved, "So, I drove her home."
Kitty stared down the King of All Roaches, arms planted on her hips, "You drove her home? You could have gotten her KILLED!"
"Well," he said in an almost cartoonishly calm sort of way, "you don't need to nag on me 'bout it? Still a bloody side seat driver. My driving was approved...on the offensive and defensive driving courses. Certificate of completion is on file."
He only hit a couple of dummies, but they were cop dummies, so it was considered friendly fire!
"You don't drive someone home with offensive driving!" She wasn't sure she even wanted to touch him. She might catch Roach Cooties.
"It's not like I ran anyone over." He ran some things over, but they didn't count, because they were inanimate objects. Without nerve endings. He cleared his throat to cover up any itchy. He also kicked something behind the beginnings of his new makeshift couch, of...discarded recycled pizza boxes. There was dried pizza crust for padding within the boxes.
"You've had your say then, so I hope you're 'appy. Out you go." Pete stomped over to the window to open it. It was, of course, jammed. "BLOODY HELL."
Pete sounded like something had crawled down his throat and died. Kitty felt a small smidge of concern for him. Maybe it was more than a small smidge. There was guilt, "No, I'm not particularly happy. Leave Jubilee alone." She tried not to sound too over protective.
"Trust me, luv, I won't be bothering your fireworks-shooting-out-o'-her-fucking-hands friend, ever again. As long as she refrains from prancing around on the streets like a nutter, in broad daylight, shooting the things at passersby." He curled up one hand into a fist, and bumped the windowpane to try to dislodge it. "Bugger. Stuck. Kick the door the other way 'round then, Steven bloody Seagal. Close it on your way out."
He huff-coughed angrily and went past her to his lawnchair in the middle of the room, plopping down onto it and taking a flask out of his coat pocket, for a much needed drink. Looking at her? Nope. He was making it a point not to. Some things were still difficult.
"Jubilee is a free spirit. And very weird." Kitty folded her arms, "The door only opens one way you dumbass."
She stared at him, "Good god, Wisdom. Are you just going to waste away or are you going to do..something. Anything? Besides ..wallow. I think the statute of limitations on being butthurt over a bad breakup is past."
That might have come out more harshly than she intended, but these things usually do.
He just about put the laptop right through his own legs, such was the force that he set it down. There was a long and uncomfortable bout of silence, before he said in a very low voice, "I am doing something. I'm working. I was working when you barged in. I worked before you left. I worked directly after you left. And I worked up until now. Now get the fuck out."
Pete glared up at her, while lighting a cigarette.
"Pete, I'm sorry."
"Don't."
You said you loved me. Kitty rubbed at her face, and then turned and walked into the door. She grunted, stepped back and kicked at the door handle.
"Wriggle the handle first." Now he looked over at her. "Don't kick it in. You'll seize it up. Fucking hell."
He figured he could at least watch her go. Again. This time.
Agitated, Kitty grabbed for the handle, and her hand went through it. Rather than risk getting stuck in the door, she pulled her hand back, then tried again and jiggled the handle. The door opened.
Pete was squinting through a haze of cigarette smoke, but he swore he'd seen her hand...do...a ghosting thing. He thought that now, before he didn't see her again, was probably an apt time to make note of it.
"That part of your ninja skills, is it?"
"Jiggling door handles? No."
"Reaching into them. Or walking through people." Nope. Someone hasn't forgotten. Did she really expect him to?
"That's crazy talk. You're crazy."
"No, I'm not. I saw wot you did, there." He got up out of the chair, taking some initiative for once, because he was too sick and too tired that day to be further bothered if he truly offended Kitty at this point. He walked over and gave the door, next to the door handle, a knock with his knuckles, and eyed her. "Your friend, the lit'le rat, mentioned something about ghosts. If the shoe fits...."
Kitty narrowed her eyes, "It's nothing and I don't have anything to say about it."
"About as nothing as someone shooting fucking sparklers out of her fingers, is it?" He narrowed his eyes back at her. "Stop nicking my phrases and using them against me."
"It's only fair." She grabbed the door handle again, "I don't know what's going on. Sorry."
Pete's hand instantly went over hers. But he didn't grab or clench his fingers. Only rested it there.
"You really have someone else now, don't you." He wasn't glaring anymore, at least, but was watching her closely and intently. Or feverishly.
"..Recently, yes." She hadn't dated at all since she'd come back to the states. Kitty touched his forehead, "You're sick!"
That figured. Sometimes he hated being right so often. And he hadn't dated at all, since. In fact, he outright rejected the thought, as something abhorrent. He'd rather not date anyone again.
Pete ducked his head back and away, with a sarcastic roll of his eyes to offset anything else he might be feeling at the moment. That of being miserable more than the norm.
"Flu," he explained in a roughened, low voice. "I've got medicine and I can take care of meself."
Oh, right. Pete removed his hand from hers. Because...yeah.
Kitty wiped her hand, mostly because his hand was sweaty and sticky, "Believe me, I wasn't looking for love when I found her. It." There was a certain frustration in her voice.
Fever. That's all that was! At least his hand wasn’t greasy since he hadn't really felt the urge to eat that day. Speaking of grease? He was overdue to order another triple meat pizza so he could go back to poking around some financial records and looking through the papers the scientist lady had given him, about those projects. He'd share that with Fury after he was sure Interpol had run down and a clear copy of them.
Right now, his focus was on Kitty, and - for a few token seconds - the stare softened a little and some of the hard edges were lessened. That was as good as it got with him. But it was that sort of stare that he knew enough from observation in the past, to know something was wrong now.
"Katherine," he finally said in a gravelly whisper, "that's like a stab in the chest. I can tell something's wrong but...I don't know if I want to get another stab in the chest again, finding out what it is."
There. He was honest. Nothing hidden.
"You want a pint?" Maybe that would help. He could use one. Pint would be good.
He could cry into it when no one was looking.
"Not right now," she replied, laughing softly. "It's a stupid thing, and I'm just frustrated."
He stared at her for a long moment, reached out, and rested one hand on her forehead, letting it move down over the side of her face. There was a rub of his thumb over her cheek, and he almost smiled for a moment. It was that sort of smile that someone gives when they know they probably wouldn't see them again. Not just out of choice, but necessity.
"You'll suss it out."
"I guess. Taking things slow isn't my forte." She patted his hand on her cheek.
"I know. You require a fair bit of excitement, petal." He nodded and pulled his hand away, leaning on the door as he held it open for her. His gaze, however, was directed elsewhere. At some point that was hanging in the air, halfway between his nose and the wall. "Best of luck with that."
Kitty wanted to make a joke about 'well she does owe me seeing her boobs' but figured that might not be as funny to him. Instead she nodded and then walked through the open door.
Kitty glanced back at him, "I'll call you later. I want to try to be friends at least. I can count on one hand the number of people that really get me. You're one of them."
"No, don't count on me for anything," he said, simply, and closed the door.
He stood there, staring at the door.
Then at the door handle.
He reached for the handle.
Turned it.
Pulled...
"..well I deserved that." Kitty worked her throat, then turned to jog down the stairs.
...and the door stuck. Pete bounced his forehead on the door, hard, repeatedly. It sounds like someone knocking for help. Possibly.
She stopped, and looked up at the door.
BANG BANG BANG BANG!
"Great." She'd made him go all rampage on the furniture. It was probably a good idea to get out of there.
His only furnishings were a lawn chair and some pizza boxes. The rest was trash.
"KITTY! KICK THE DOOR OPEN AGAIN, WOULD YOU?!" Oh great, now he's yelling. And now he’s coughing.
"Seriously?"
"YES!” Koff koff koff! “BLOODY HELL YES! DO YOU THINK I'M JOKING?! WOT THE FECK!"
He stood aside and tried to get the window open again. Insert more coughing fit.
Kitty decided to be a smart ass. She walked back up, jumped off the balcony and jimmied the window open. She peered in, "What the hell is your problem, sir?"
He coughed, indignantly! But for her, she got him to cover his mouth when he coughed, in the crook of an arm. Amazing! While cough talking, he tried to gruffly explain.
"You're the problem. You've always been the problem. If I was in a better position to...do summat...other than lose a lung on you....I'd bloody well snog you senseless. WHILE DRIVING RECKLESSLY." He held up both hands like even the thought of telling her those things drove him insane. "I'm somewhere between wanting to snog and slap you, all o'er again!"
Kitty stared at him so hard she lost her grip, dropped off the window, hit the ground, and rolled, "Oof."
Pete leaned his entire upper body out the window, and asked, with his usual lack of candor, "Oi, ya didn't drop dead from shock and horror, did you?"
Brushing her jeans off, Kitty shouted back up, "Yes, yes I did!" She almost added 'how do you get a girl to put out for you' but figured a) she didn't want to twist the knife and b) Wisdom advice on that matter would be bad.
It would be horribly bad. He’s beyond girl repellent...he’s everyone repellent.
"Good. I'm on a roll. Because I'm likely dying. But I still love your annoying, obnoxious, nagging, bloody know-it-all arse. Which makes me want to stab meself in the guts. With a spoon. So you've gone and found someone else? Letting you go without a proper telling off, is something that I can't go to my probable grave with."
He waved an index finger around in her general direction. "Drop down again. I demand it. You looked like a complete prat when you did that."
If she had to climb back up to the window to do that? He's fine with that. The king of the roaches demands satisfaction.
In fact, he grumbled out like he was royalty, "It amuses me."
Kitty gauged the distance before scaling up, then smacked him in the forehead. She slammed the window shut, "Good luck finding a way out!" She waved, and jumped back down.
"Kitty! Why you...!" He started coughing again, went and got the lawn chair, and threw it at the window. Voila. Instantly open. And there went Pete, after clearing the window of excess glass with his coat sleeve, falling through it and landing with a satisfying ker-thud onto the nearby concrete slab, just outside his door. He’s obviously done that sort of thing before.
"Did you not hear what I just told you?" He was pissed now. She made him mess up his bed.
Kitty flipped him off, both American and British style.
"You aren't running again, are you?" He put both hands on the railing and watched her. This was why it's better to not take chances like that and say things, he reminded himself. He should've let it go and been done with it, taking whatever he thought to his grave. That Scottish cow doomed him.
"What the hell do you expect me to say or do?!" She picked up a rock and threw it at him.
He ducked before it could hit him and lost whatever tentative hold of his temper he had to begin with, "Stand your bloody ground for once and say what you think! Precisely wot you should've done before!"
You know what? He picked up that pebble and THREW IT RIGHT BACK AT HER. Hi, stubborn glare face.
Fight. They gonna has one.
"We went from sex to engaged in three freaking months!" It poured out of her mouth unbidden. Oh god, please no truthiness, "I wasn't ready! I was too scared to see the look on your face, so I took off!"
"You don't think....you honestly...wot the feck? Get up here!" He pointed at her, like he meant business. "You are not running away again!"
In fact, he put his damn foot down. "Not again! Do not do it!"
Kitty edged toward her bike!
"Katherine Pryde, do not sit your arse on that bike!"
Someone yelled at them to shut up.
"SOD OFF!"
Katherine Pryde sat her arse on that bike.
"Do not make me come down there! Stubborn cow!"
He growled as he began digging through his pockets for a much needed cigarette, while breathing heavily. Or trying to. Sure sounds like he needs one. Not.
Success! He lit it, and pointed down at her with it. "Besides, it's not like I asked first! You seemed to want that engagement!"
Or, well, he asked because it was mentioned and it was like 'eh, why not' as it sounded nice at the time.
HUGE MISTAKE? OBVIOUSLY.
Leaning forward, Kitty rested her face on the console of her bike. She was young and stupid. She was still young and stupid, if she really thought about it. School? Much easier to deal with than life.
"Oh stop that. Pfft, that moping. It was a mistake and that was no reason to throw the entire thing out like that." He brushed some glass off his sleeve, using the railing.
"Don't you think I know that?" She wasn't sure he heard her, so she straightened up, "It's over, we were good until I messed up royally."
"You're the only one who had a decision in it being over? Brilliant. Thanks for making that mutual, Pryde. Fuck you."
"It was shitty of me, all right! In case you can't remember I'm very good at shoving my FOOT in my mouth!"
"So you dump everything and run off...oooo...I'm soooo scaaaaaaaaared...over shoving your foot in your mouth? Oh fucking, fucking HELL, if that happened every time someone put their foot in their mouth, the bloody PLANET would be lopsided...with everyone running from one side to the other...trying to get away from the person they'd wronged!"
"It'd probably throw the axis off and we'd spin into the moon, and dogs and cats would eat each other," he proclaimed with a cough of finality, and kicked at his neighbor's door when they yelled about calling the cops.
"Maybe I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with a man who uses his tie as a napkin!"
"It worked in a pinch! Another thing, I started using napkins for you!"
Kitty growled, and started up her bike, "So you reverted to cro-magnon man! CONGRATS! Because that is so very attractive!" Dick.
"Do not run off again, you plonker!" Well, she was still nagging! Bitch.
Striving to find one of his more dangerous solutions to modern day pursuit problems, Pete took a small running jump over the second story railing and landed into the pool. He almost missed and hit the concrete. Lucky for him the water was heated to a hot tub like consistency, and it was the closest thing to a bath that he'd taken in the past couple of days. Fine, whatever, it had been three days. Everything else of importance that would’ve been in his coat was upstairs in the apartment, when he did a pocket dump to sort through notes. Besides, the trench doubled as a blanket.
The landlord was already closing in for an explanation, so Pete verbally cut him off at the pass as he climbed out of the pool, "That's the ex. Fix the door, would you? I'll pay for the damages. Cheers."
The old man in a wifebeater got a slapping pat on the shoulder, and Pete started to make his way over to where Kitty was. He threw away his now wet pack of cigarettes. He never goes anywhere without his cancer sticks.
Kitty revved the engine on her bike. She didn't really want to have this discussion, right now or ever.
"Don't you bloody do it again," he growled as he approached, stalking his way over to the bike. "You want things sorted? To anyone's satisfaction? Then you're...we're...whatever other people do when things get sorted!"
He stopped, coughed, and sniffled. Not from any weepy, but from a nose clog.
"Talking?" Kitty glowered at him, her face all 'do not want' at him!
"Right, that shite." Which he wasn't good at, either, unless it was work related.
"Fine. Talk." She shut the bike down and leaned forward.
"...me start? I was hoping you would."
He looked like a drenched wet five year old with his hand in the cookie jar while he was denying any wrongdoing. He tucked his hands under his arms and shook some water off one leg and then the other. He could do this. Just say something. It's not that hard. He was good at interrogating. It was easy. Ask bad guy questions. Bad guy answers. If they don't answer, then hit them. Then they answer.
Pete looked up at the sky for a moment, like he was searching for bad guys.
Kitty wasn't a bad guy, and she was liable to hit back. Or dodge it. Or use his momentum to send him flying onto his back, "I ran away. It was a shitty thing to do. I'm sorry."
"There. That. I don't want apologies."
He coughed and held up a finger in front of her face like he needed a minute. He disappeared off in the direction of his car and came back with a flask in one hand and a dry, lit cigarette in his mouth.
"Sussed," he grunted the word out. "What was it that I did that set you off? That bad that you didn't...want anything with me anymore? Because, honestly Kitty...I would've been happy if you'd said the engagement was cack and you wanted t'go back to how it was before. I think the marriage stuff is bollocks as it is."
Now he was certain it was that lying thing she accused him of, the other day.
"I wish I had an answer for you," She replied, knuckles white on the handles of her bike, "You were getting surlier. We didn't talk as much. I was homesick. But those are all just excuses."
"I told you when I couldn't talk about things," he pointed out. "And you're right. Those are convenient excuses. They're not real reasons."
Well they were reasons, he supposed, but those were all things that could've been worked through.
"I was afraid if I didn't go, I'd push you away."
"Why." He puffed on the cigarette like it was the only breathing apparatus left in the world, capable of keeping him alive for the next two minutes.
She shrugged her shoulder, "I don't know."
"You don't know or you don't want to say it?" he challenged.
"I don't know!"
"Fine. You know what? I loved you. You said you loved me. I'm fucking HOPELESS and generally disinterested in the whole romance nonsense, and always have been. But I'm fairly certain...that shite is not what you do when you love someone. So I hope this new...whatever it is...you don't even know what it is either, do you?"
He stared right into her eyes like he wanted an answer.
Kitty looked like he'd shot her in the chest. It was mostly the mirror from her dream that made it feel like that. She stammered, "I..I love her. I loved you. If you'd showed up first, I..don't know."
"I'm here now," he said with probably the last bit of firmness in his voice he'd have for a while. "I jumped over a railing into a pool to stop your arse from leaving. If I didn't still feel something for you...after nearly letting you go because I thought it'd be best for you...then I wouldn't have done that."
Zing went the cigarette as he flicked it off into the street with his thumb. He lit another one and started the whole process of using it as a breathing device.
"Let me guess, still in that first month phase, with this one? Where it's the one and you're light as a bloody feather at the thought of it all? Because, Katherine, I've seen it before. If you start to feel nailed down or closed in, you get surly, yourself."
In short, she gets bored. And he knows it.
"First two month phase, maybe. Why are you doing this NOW?! I'm not going to dump someone just because you come walking back into my life looking like hell spit you out!" She got off her bike, "I'm not going to get bored, Wisdom." And if her dreams are any indication, being bored was a welcome thing, "I've got more than enough on my plate to keep my motor running, thank you."
"Mmmhmmm," he said, with the sort of smugness that usually resulted in a slapping or roughing up. "I suppose I should get down on my knees and beg, because I was too late to say this shite, that would've been sorted out before. And you do get bored. You get antsy. You do daft things, like sliding down stairwell railings backwards, or mouthing off at people bigger than you in pubs. Which is, mind you, why you ended up in that patrol car the night we met, sorting that whole mess out." She wanted to hear some admissions? Fine, he was giving them. "I'm a disgusting slob. I have the table manners of a viking. I didn't talk to you about the cases I was on that bloody well plagued me every waking moment, because I was told not to. Loose lips sink ships. Especially as a detective working on murders. I wasn't as disgusting or sloppy with you around, at least. I bloody well tried, even if sometimes I did tell you t'sod off for making me take the rubbish out, first thing in the morning. I could've done that at night!"
Because Pete thinks chores are best done under the cover of darkness, and morning light is abhorrent. That's why.
In fact, to prove his point? He pointed at the arm where he noticed that scar before, like it was evidence in a case. EVIDENCE. It was the 'how did we get that then?' pointy finger. He will gladly (and sarcastically) get on her bike and imitate her bike jump trick on the streets, of the other evening too. Complete with vrooom bike lips doing a raspberry noise, to make it extra sarcastic with sound effects.
"I have fun. I mouth off. So what? I don't do that shit as much as I used to. It wouldn't be the same Pete, even if I did want to rekindle things!"
She looked at her arm, frazzled, then waved her hand dismissively, "Jumping around on rooftops with a friend, ran into some meth heads, and jumped over to the other building. Skylight." Like that was somehow an everyday occurrence for her, "Found some kind of terrorist warehouse that way. Made friends with the FBI. I play Diablo with the director."
Kitty shrugged a shoulder, "The scarier thing was the guys that chased after us when I tried to help Alma." She then added, excitedly, "I punched a bastard in the throat!"
What. He was with interpol, and she's been wanting to blurt about this crap to someone other than Xi'an for weeks.
"And you obviously had no interest in rekindling anything anyway. Just say it. Because two months in with whoever she is, and she's so immediately special, that you've thrown in with her for a lifetime. So is that it? With other people, you'll be willing at the sign of trouble to work things out with them, but at the first sign of trouble with us, ya bailed out of the burning ship and swam to shore."
He clapped, sarcastically, right at her. Like she was a real winner there.
"Just say it. You wouldn't want it rekindled, even if there wasn't someone else getting in the way. I'd be done with you. For good. Then if we both want to go our separate ways and get ourselves killed. Which." He spit out THAT cigarette and lit another. "Is going to happen if you continue messing with Alma Wade or anything related to what I've been sent here to investigate. Now where is she."
Kitty glared at him, an angry spark in her eyes, "Oh for fuck's sake Wisdom! Give me a chance to find out if she's the one or not! When did I say anything about a lifetime? And it wasn't like you and me didn't have fights"
She jabbed at his ribs, "Alma's in a safe place right now, she wouldn't tell me where. And I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I just saw a girl who'd been crying and was going to give her a ride someplace safe when we were jumped. I beat the guys down, but she'd ran so fast I couldn't find her. You could probably find the police report."
Kitty leaned heavily on her bike, "A few days later, Xi'an and I are on a date and we get jumped. Hid out in a motel. Helped a friend out with some computer stuff from there and in return we have an undercover protective detail. Not sure how much longer that's going to last though. I'm living a spy novel."
He tried to scoot out of the way of her pokey finger, and glared at her hand instead because he couldn't move fast enough. Also because she did that when she was trying to get him to scoot off of stupid things she needed, that he'd sat on, like her jeans, or a magazine...a kitten. He didn't know, only that she did that when she was trying to make a point or whatever. Also, he appeared to listen to what she was saying. All of it. In great detail. In fact, he looked to be absorbing it further before bothering to talk again.
"All right then, so...first, let's get this out of the way," he began, smoking and looking like he was sorting through a file cabinet in his brain, and it was a mess of conspiracy theories and crime scene photos he'd rather he never remembered. "I believe I met Alma Wade's...biological mother. I got information from her about a project they were working on, that has to do with Alma directly. However, I don't trust the woman entirely. It's better Alma stays where she is, if...the authorities know she's not a missing person. Maybe she can get some legal emancipation pushed through. Quiet-like. That'll give her some leeway for not being claimed as a ward by any crooked bastards, later on."
He wanted to pace but didn't have the energy to move and was afraid it would result in a coughing fit. Instead, he continued talking, smoking and speaking much slower now than before as he calmed a little. It could be noted though, that Pete was looking around every so often, to keep an eye on their surroundings, and stay aware of anyone straggling around while they talked.
"If you're under a protective detail, you're already fucked. Sorry to say. Probably more so than I am. I'd like to know what you found, but it's not worth delving into it. Interpol's got a fat pile of cack that they're sorting through that's overseas shipping and financial records...on the company that was funding the project, that Alma Wade's mixed up in. Fucked up shite. Eugenics. Company's splintered and liquidated itself, so my leads have gone t'shite. It's not safe. I'm only being cautious. Lastly..."
There, he threw that cigarette into the street, popped an altoid in his mouth with the flick of a thumb, and began chewing on it. Right before he placed his hands on either side of her face, tilted her head down, and kissed the top of her head into her hair. And he was careful to not snot on her at all either, because he probably only showed that sort of courtesy with Kitty. Everyone else could go fuck themselves raw with a butcher knife. And get snotted on.
"We fought a lot, Pryde. But I still loved your obnoxious arse, and your nagging. Only a lit'le, you did nag a lot. Even if I moaned on and on about it. So it might be wrong, but I'm hoping she's not the one...and maybe you'll swim back to the burning ship and drag my arse to shore. Give it another chance or summat." All that was said in a low murmur, slight wheeze, as he started to move his face away, not wanting to get her sick either. She was the only one capable of using ninja skills. She might need them. "Stay out of it from here on out. Let the FBI and CIA handle things. I'm only here to nose about for our end, share what information I can, and pick up what's left over when they're finished. You don't need to be involved, at all."Wall of Text Crits
"I'll send her a message on that." Kitty was reluctant to give up her location, either. Urdnot Ranch was a pretty safe place, for the time being. They could do more than keep her safe, too. They could properly care for her.
As for his warnings, well there was precious little she could do but work behind the scenes to obscure any traces that might lead to the twins or Xi'an getting hurt.
She didn't want to hear that he still loved her. She was still sorting things out in her own head and heart and even if she and Xi'an broke up, she thought she'd might play the field a little, since it had so suddenly doubled in size.
"I'm probably in too deep to extricate easily..I'm in the middle of a few things that I'd like to finish. Besides, even my day job puts me in danger a little bit. I know how to hack the Pentagon, because we were hired by them to do it. I don't need this over protective bullshit. Even if I appreciate it a little."Wall o' Text crits retinas for 3829383 dmg!
Too late, he'd said it and he wasn't taking it back. It didn't make him feel better, but at least it hadn't gone unsaid, no matter what happened. It seemed better that way. Like if he didn't muddle through things, at some point in the near future, at least he could go into the great unknown...nothingness...knowing he'd said it. If that was the only consolation prize he could get, he was going to take it.
"You're going to 'ave to keep yourself out of it. I don't want you in it. I know you'll be bloody stubborn and go pfffft at me saying so, but it's the truth. This shite will get you burned, and it's very serious business. The bastard's basically a terrorist, a swindler, a master manipulator, and he's got a whole fat lot of funding, all of it being filtered and shuffled about, under everyone's noses. That is not an invitation for you to go nosing about more, like a curious Kitty."
He put both hands on her shoulders, leaning away but still tilting his head so he could look her in the eyes.
"Being hired by the Pentagon to hack itself. That's a little different. You are not CIA, FBI, MI-anything, or Interpol, luv."
"I'm good enough that they've tried to recruit me before." Kitty had sometimes regretted turning it down, and she was still iffy on the idea, even now. She understood the allure of the freedom Tali had. "But that's neither here nor there."
The only plus side was he finally started to sound like the man he used to be.
Little glimmers of hope - no matter how futile or fruitless he knew they might be - tended to do that. A whole lot of concern that she was going to get dragged into something she wasn't ready for, took care of the rest.
Pete's hands slipped away from her shoulders and he knew he was asking for too much, even as he was asking, "Try not to poke your curious nose into it. That's all I ask. If this bastard's feeling cornered, you know what a cornered animal tends to do. They’ll bite whoever reaches closest to it. Fact."
"I'll try. I'm discovering there's a lot of links and a lot of bad blood out there."
She regarded Pete for a long moment, her throat constricting. Why did he still have to be in love with her? It wasn't fair.
"I'll be careful."
"Whole fat lot of those things. It's dead serious. I think every organization's gunning at him right now, and not simply this government keeping an eye on him, but a few others."
Pete was smart enough to not throw Kitty any tip offs with his warnings, by mentioning what countries or anything. He wasn't giving her any leads. Even so, it probably wasn't going to do any good. His lips quirked up in an almost smile. It wasn't tentative or hesitant. It was simply there.
"You won't be careful. You'll dive in nose first, and try to punch things in it's data teeth. If things happen, then I might not be able to help you. I don't want to think about that. Telling you no is like trying to talk to a bleedin' brick wall, so...yeah, be careful."
Or, you know, don’t do it all, maybe? That was the stare Pete gave her. He swept one hand over her hair and nodded once, looking very much like he needed to crawl up the steps by his lips. Then he was going to check his messages, send off a thing or two, and just..pass out. For an indefinite amount of time.
Kitty swatted at his hand in her hair. No fair knowing her greatest weakness, "I'll think about it if you take care of yourself, Wisdom."
"Wot was that for? It's not me fault your hair looks like you dived headfirst into a wind tunnel." He shook out his hand and glared at her, and sounded a bit more like his old (albeit ill) self, "Tart. I bruise easily. And fingers are freeeeeeeeezing."
He actually was shivering even while he was standing there. And probably had been the whole time, only now it was getting more and more noticeable.
Inside. Heater. Good.
"Go to a doctor!"
"I saw some Scottish cow. In a parking lot. Gave me meds. I'm not going in. They take samples of you in hospital. For the worldwide cloning project. Headquarters in Switzerland, and that's why you can't...trust...the swiss, because they say they're neutral, but that's a lie. They're the world's biggest storage facility. But they're slightly less evil than Ikea."
Kitty started to back away.
"I told you before that Ikea's trying to make everyone comfortable with living in a six by six cubical box, for when the world's so overpopulated, that there's no living space. I showed you the files that Jardine gave me, that one time I went out to The Crown. Very compelling." He pointed at her with a shiver finger, and was backing up to head back inside. It was too cold to stay outdoors anymore! "Mark my words, someday, when you're living in a box with one flickering lightbulb o'er your head. And it's furnished by Ikea."
"You're still crazier than your sister, Pete." Kitty shook her head and laughed.
"Bollocks. No one's more insane than the occultist hippy groupie. You take that back."
"Never!" Kitty hopped onto her bike!
"She doesn't even wear knickers unless they're edible," he countered, with the angry shake of a fist up in the air. Curses. "I wear pants all the time!"
And they have cartoon doodles and funny prints too. Everything else he wears was pretty bland and standard issue burned-out British police detective.
Kitty gunned her bike, "With rubber ducks and smiley faced on them. MADE BY IKEA!"
"...Ikea doesn't sell pants, ya ARSE!" No one makes fun of Pete Wisdom's awesome boxers collection. He began coughing, chunkily. Yum!
"How do you know?," Laughing, Kitty popped a wheelie as she zoomed away.
Because they have online catalogues and when he wants to be aware of one of the world's true evils are peddling to the unaware masses. He looks at it, clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and calls people who shop there 'lab rats.'
True fact.