5: Recollection

"Is this right? My fingers still feel weird..."

"If your fingers feel weird, don't hold 'em that way."

"...But this is how you told me to hold them!"

"Heh, maybe I was wrong. Or maybe you gotta weird hand, gotta use a different technique than me."

Robin scowled and kicked a paw out lightly against the woman's leg. "You gotta weird hand..." he mumbled while staring intently at the neck of the guitar and attempting to contort his fingers in a crude reflection of her own. "And what ya mean, different technique!? No mames, we ain't in the ring with Carlos!"

"Hate to break it to you, but music's just as versatile as fighting," she replied, smiling at him bemusedly as she strummed a steady rhythm for a few seconds before her hands shifted to instead pluck out a rapid series of staccato notes. "But instead of punching a baboso in the face, you go for their soul..."

Robin huffed even as he watched her skillful picking with no shortage of wonderment. "Ya just usin' all that talent to pick up ladies," he complained before biting his tongue in concentration to mimic her plucking. He raised his eyebrows in surprise when he found his right hand moving more easily along the strings. He grunted, however, when his other hand continued to cramp in the stiff position he tried to maintain. "Verga..."

"I can do both," she shot back with a wink, slapping her tail playfully against his back. "Both the girls and the boys appreciate a caress of the soul." She finished her musical thought and then leaned over to squeeze his wrist lightly. The warmth of his friend's touch drove away his frustration long enough to glance at her expectantly. "If you're serious about music, morro, you gotta let it move you as much as you try to move it. We don't get a lot of escapes from this ring, but this is one of them. You gotta be free so you can help your audience be free, just for a little bit."

He screwed up his muzzle a bit to try and process her words. He lifted his hand from the guitar's neck to scratch at his cheek in confusion while she smiled and returned to her own instrument, providing no further explanation. Robin sighed and gripped the guitar by the neck again while giving a desolate strum...before blinking his bewilderment as a harmonious chord hummed forth. As he stared down at the hand that had grumpily fallen into position, his companion laughed and played him a victorious melody. "Aha! Tell me, does your hand look like mine?!" she inquired around a grin. "Does it look right?"

Robin's eyes tore from his fingers to study hers again, his muzzle hanging open for a few seconds. "...No??"

She flashed a softer smile as he tested another couple of runs across the strings, encouragement coursing through his veins at the sound of actual notes rolling out from his guitar. "But does it feel right?"

He did his best to pout, but couldn't avoid his own broad smile as he began to strum an accompaniment to her plucking. She winked and nodded her approval. "That's what I thought."

They both glanced up as someone poked their head into the empty theater. "Yo, Pauline! You still good to go for tomorrow AM?"

"Sure am, gato...and it's gonna be a double-header, too! Ain't that right, Robin?"

He huffed at her grin, even if he eventually smiled back and turned his attention once more to the guitar. "Yeah, yeah...but don't blame me if the only escape is everyone tryin' to get out the theater before their ears start bleeding..."

Her laughter melted into another gentle grip around his wrist and he closed his eyes to savor the potential. Yeah, life was rough in these slums, but no rougher than the way the stage bounced beneath them, creaking and rocking as a stiff breeze rushed through his mane.

"Hey...can you show me how you did that plucking thing again?"

Another sharper bump before Pauline's voice trickled in with a strange, drawling baritone. "...me to show you wut? Purdy sure you did all the fuckin', hon..."

Robin's eyes snapped open, and the dark theater had become a dark wasteland. Her fingers remained clutched around his arm until he stared down to realize her fur had been a rich maroon. Not grey.

He twitched and then pulled his arm away as his companion gazed at him for a few moments, then turned his piercing blue eyes back to the barren landscape. "Sorry if I woke you up, sweetie. Heard you sayin' summin' in yer sleep."

Robin stroked a finger over the still-warm patch of his wrist, then forced a laugh: "Yeah, tryin' to find out if you're already lookin' to collect on that handjob, gatito. You the type to bump uglies with a guy in his sleep?"

Samael gave him another look, this time one steeped with an unspoken concern that bit into Robin's nerves. "Haw, I might be a good ol' boy from Sampi, but I still got learned 'bout con...consense...erm, askin' permission," he replied before his eyes shifted away. Robin caught a morose glimmer that suggested Samael had his own memories to hide. "How's all yer bullet holes 'n bruises?"

Robin arched an eyebrow. "Still wondering why you asked me about how I talk, sounds like you ain't finished choking on your coloring books, cabron..."

He watched as Samael scowled and rubbed a fist against his muzzle, though his half-smile was effective at diffusing any embarrassment he might have felt at the insult. Little man must have had a knack for masking; not a huge surprise, Robin supposed, considering Samael's line of work.

Robin's line of work now, too.

"Hey, I already toldja I know I'm a fuckin' dumbass," Samael retorted before he winked and deflected by drawing out a mix of arousal and pity from Robin's sealed vault. "They don't keep me 'round here 'cuz of mah big, sexy brain, y'know."

Robin quirked his own partial smile. "Yeah, what's your title? 'Supervisor of Giving And-Or Shrinking Head'?"

Samael's laugh came almost too easily, a veneer masking something self-conscious despite the warm expression that embraced him from across the jeep. "C'mon, now, you ain't even had one'a my blowjobs yet." He winked again and Robin suffered another bout of wanting to smash against this guy in one way or another. "They are purdy legendary, though." He chuckled and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. "And hey, last thing I want is a shrunk head, that don't sound fun fer anyone involved! Although I guess sometimes ya cain't help it, like when ya go swimmin' in the cold..."

Robin snorted and laced his fingers behind his head, ignoring the various aches from the various wounds. "You really are from the boonies, gatito. I ain't talkin' about a shriveled dick -- it means ya tryin' to get into my head. But I didn't sign up to feel better about myself, I'm here to fight."

"It ain't so bad to have a reason, all the same," Samael murmured. Robin glanced over and spotted a glum frown, though Samael brightened just as swiftly a moment later. "I cain't wait fer you to meet some of the other folks at Q-Base! We got people who joined up fer all sortsa reasons! It's a'right if you don't wanna talk 'bout yer own, sometimes it's nice jus' to listen to someone else's."

A tiny frown accompanied the thoughtful stare Robin lobbed into the surrounding wasteland. He didn't have time to think up a sarcastic reply, however, as the radio crackled to life between them.

"Base to Wurlitz."

Samael rubbed at his throat as Robin watched his energetic expression slip into something a bit more uncomfortable. He pitched a half-convincing smile to his passenger before reaching down to pull the microphone to his muzzle. "Go fer Wurlitz."

"You've been dark for nearly a period and a half. Management would like to know why you haven't reached your destination yet."

"Maybe management should give a guy a li'l break," Samael mumbled into the radio.

"Copy that. I'll pass the message on."

Samael's eyes bulged as the jeep swerved when he clutched the radio with both hands. "W-wait, O'Neill, I was jus' kiddin'--!!" Robin watched with no small amount of entertainment; there was certainly some satisfaction to be had in seeing the unflappable little rebel lose his confidence.

The radio was silent for several seconds before the same voice came back, edged with a microcosm of saccharine intonation. "Management is heading down for an explanation. Suggest you bundle up, driver."

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck," Samael moaned to the night sky before giving Robin a miserable look. "C'n you hold the wheel for a sec, hon?"

Robin stretched an arm out through his bemusement to hold the steering wheel steady so Samael could lean forward and manipulate a small device that was hard-wired onto the front of the radio receiver. "You babosos use open channels?" Robin inquired. He assumed that was the reason for their coded language, anyway.

Samael grumbled and poked a few more dials on the device while answering back sullenly: "Yeah. Most'a our equipment ain't got point-to-point encryption, an' the fuckers workin' for the House don't take long to start trackin' burst encryption, so...we gotta keep it short when we use it."

Robin smirked and offered the wheel back when Samael sat back up with the microphone held morosely in his free hand. "You must be good at that part, little man."

"Oh, ha ha, real funny," Samael muttered, which only parted Robin's grin further. Samael didn't seem the type to show this kind of frustration often. "We'll see how much yer laughin' after the thunderstorm..."

"I'm still impressed you know the word 'encryption', Shorty" Robin taunted as he relaxed in his seat again while watching the tensely-coiled rebel. "Maybe ya whole being-stupid thing's just an act."

Samael scowled, then offered a slight smile as Robin realized he'd accidentally returned some of Samael's confidence. "Haw -- I might be an idiot, but once I learn summin', I learn it good." He paused and winced while giving the radio a wary look. "Well...fer the most part..."

"Wurlitz, you inbred dumb-fuck!"

Samael nearly dropped the microphone and Robin was treated to the sight of the redneck all but shriveling into himself. "Wuh-well hey there, Ma--" he began nervously before scrunching away as the furious woman's voice roared through atop his.

"Don't even fucking start! Where the fuck are you, and why the fuck aren't you at Q-Base? What the fuck did that little shit drag you off to this time?!"

Robin cocked his head with intrigue, wondering who'd be a 'little shit' compared to Samael. The aforementioned dumb-fuck squirmed in his seat and then replied hurriedly: "It ain't like that! I jus' got a li'l sidetracked, is all! Ah promise, I was headed right 'cross Qoppa, picked up a distress call fer a buncha civvies caught 'tween a Red platoon an' a buncha bandits!"

Robin propped his head up to watch the show with no small amount of amusement.

"What the fuck part of 'no fucking stops' was unclear to you, asshole?!" Samael flinched as if spittle from her tirade was being transmitted across the airwaves. "Your fucking commitment to losing every last fucking ounce of trust I have in you is fucking astounding."

Samael scraped his claws along the steering wheel before launching a hopeful glance toward Robin. "It ain't all fer nothin', Ma--er, Nelson. I'm bringin' back a new recruit! An' he's real good--"

"Are you fucking kidding me? I don't need another one of your fucking conquests on the goddamn roster, I need motherfuckers who want to fight, and who know how to take a goddamn order!!"

As fun as it was to watch Samael's jaws working to fumble a competent response, Robin reached out to snatch the microphone from his grip. He ignored the panicked attempt to steal it back, using his other arm to shove away Samael's pleading features. "Hey, lady. If it makes you feel any better, we both kicked each other's ass...and I didn't fuck him until after I signed up."

Samael stared at Robin for a few seconds before his eyes flicked to the receiver as the gravelly voice replied briskly: "...Okay, good find, Wurlitz." Samael started to show a relieved smile, only to shrink his shoulders as she spat out: "Now shut the fuck up and get to Qoppa. I've already told Silverman to take your keys when you arrive -- you aren't fucking touching another vehicle until you hear from me, understood? And you can add 'training the new guy' to your list of duties when you arrive. Break encryption, Nelson out."

Robin smirked and held out the microphone for Samael to glumly accept. "Understood, Mama..." He sighed and replaced the microphone before disabling the module on the front. "Spirits have mercy on us, we're gonna get fuckin' roasted..."

"Whaddya mean 'we'?" Robin retorted before chuckling. "And from here, looks like you've already been burned to a crisp. Not sure it's gonna get any worse."

"You don't know Mama," Samael mumbled, sinking into the driver's seat and letting his hands drop to the bottom of the steering wheel. His eyes flicked back to the ex-soldier. "She ain't even gotta come out to Qoppa to whoop our asses s'more..."

Robin shrugged easily. "A hard-ass is a hard-ass. Seen my share of sergeants and supervisors -- bossmang don't scare me."

"She ain't like no boss-main you ever seent..." Samael exhaled but then turned up a small smile while tilting his head a bit. "So does that mean you grew up like me? Always a li'l grumpy 'bout authority?"

Robin eyed him before gazing out to the distant peaks of the Emberoths. "Ya don't get my respect just because you got power. But if ya trying to ask whether or not I'll take orders like the angry woman said...guess that'll depend on the orders." He tipped his muzzle toward Samael with a languid smile. "Probably won't stick around if ya just brought me on-board to mop the floors..."

"Naw, our floors are dirty as shit, ain't got time fer all that," Samael replied. "Nelson weren't lyin' -- we need folks who don't mind a scuffle. Got a good few people behind our walls who...they ain't soft, but they ain't fighters. An' even if I know almost every single one'a them would pick up a gun or a knife if it came down to it..." He shook his head. "They shouldn't have to."

Robin's muzzle dipped into a frown. "Why shouldn't they? Everyone should be able to bleed for what they believe."

"I ain't arguin' that," Samael murmured. Robin caught a glimpse of Samael pressing a finger against his chest while a flicker of melancholy creased his features. "It's one'a my goddamn jobs to recruit people to the cause, after all. But some folks have bled enough. There shouldn't be nothin' wrong with them tryna help some other way. Not everyone deserves to watch the life leave a man's eyes..."

"Now you talkin' about shit we both know is just a part of life on this ring, Shorty," Robin argued. "If you don't learn to fight, you're just askin' to have ya shit handed to you."

A mix of celestial light and dashboard glow illuminated Samael's frown, and Robin anticipated the biting retort. Finally, a reason to rip this hopeful garden gnome apart. But he was instead granted a few seconds of soft silence as the frown gave way to a curious smile. "Izzat why you learned to fight? I cain't lie, you'd probably whoop my ass on a full tank -- I ain't got no fancy trainin', and them moves you was bustin' out weren't in no Army handbook."

Robin smelled the investigation, but the words tumbled out against his will. "The Holy War wasn't a big thing to us where we were, gatito. But we didn't live in no paradise, either. I was working full-time as soon as I was old enough to help pay the bills. The kinda job where they expect you to be too tired to care about anything else, yeah?" He shrugged and wished it was harder to remember Carlos's grin. "But my people, only thing we were tired of was the House, tryin' to tell us how to live, how to feel. We weren't scared of the draft, we were scared of bein' silenced."

He glanced down at his fists, at the old scars and the new. "So we lived all the ways we could. I loved being in the ring. Felt good to fight, felt good to push yourself to the limit with someone else, with someone real. I didn't fight because I was angry, either -- half my competition were my own people, my friends, my familia. So it felt good whether I won or lost, you know?"

Robin shrugged and pretended not to care even as the claws of his memories clutched harder into his heart. "Guy I worked with saw me in the ring, offered to show me some stuff. And the longer the War went on, the harder we got worked, the more posters they put up with that goddamn symbol on it."

"An' soon you wasn't just trainin' to fight fer fun..." Samael's voice slipped in so smoothly, Robin almost thought he'd said the words himself.

"Oh, it was still fun," Robin shot back, though he shifted his weight in the seat and relented with a grumble. "But yeah, Shorty. None of us wanted to just lay down and die. Learning to fight was another way to survive."

Samael nodded and then glanced over again. "Ain't nothin' wrong with that. We all gotta do what we gotta do to survive, sometimes." His eyes drifted back to the road, to somewhere dark enough to dim his expressive gaze. "Sometimes we gotta fight, an'...sometimes we gotta run." Whether or not he realized Robin was watching him, the rebel propped up a looser smile that couldn't have been entirely honest. "Don't mean we can't still cause some trouble on the way out, though." He beamed at Robin again. "I know I got li'l stumpy legs, but damn...you had me strugglin' to catch you back on that train!"

"'No shame in running if it means you can fight another day'," Robin echoed before catching himself and gritting his teeth. Now Shorty was threatening that numbness again, and he didn't even have his dick out. "Shitty advice for this world."

"Naw, I...I think that's true," Samael replied softly as his eyes again drifted into unreadable territory. "Sometimes we gotta run. I'm startin' to learn that not every sacrifice is worth it, not if. Not if there's somethin' you still got to leave behind."

Robin's expression flattened as he leaned away from Samael to rest against the passenger door. "Whatever ya say, gatito. Wake me up if you need me to drive or if that angry chica wants to talk to a responsible adult again."

Samael was silent for a few seconds, but apparently understood well enough. "Haw. Yer a real peach, hon. Get some rest."

Robin closed his eyes and ignored the whispers from the darkness.

Rico would have liked this guy.

* * *

"...So ya ain't got a leader here at all? Who's the pendejo took ya car keys, then?"

"Aw, that was Silverman. He came from L-Base, where them ex-Freelancers are," Samael explained as he kicked a pebble down the hall with a grumble. "Silverman ain't no ex-merc, but he served with the Reds fer a li'l while 'fore he got recruited over to our side." Samael paused and then found a smile for a few seconds. "He got brought in by mah best friend! Aw, man, I bet you'll love 'im, he's a real treat...an' he's half the reason this revolution's so dang sexy!"

Robin snorted and gave the redneck a bemused look. "I know you ain't claiming to be the other half -- ya ain't no more than a quarter, at best."

Samael huffed but left his smile in place, content that Robin was saying something. The last few hours in the jeep had been almost uncomfortably silent, as it had been rather obvious the recently-converted rebel had no intention of replying to any of Samael's inquiries or comments. But the tour of Q-Base seemed to have encouraged Robin to speak up, or at the very least drop a few snide responses at Samael's expense.

"Short jokes, incest jokes -- everyone's got 'em, an' they ain't never gettin' no better!" Samael complained. "Yer the new guy, you gotta be responsible 'n come up with somethin' else!" He chortled and jabbed a light elbow against the ex-soldier's side as they strode through the mess. "I'mma hafta introduce you to York, an' I guess you'll be meetin' the other ex-Freelancers then, too." He scratched at the top of his head while wrinkling his muzzle in thought. "Since we sorta...share this base 'tween Lactan 'n Sidewinder, you might be gettin' jobs from either side." He cleared his throat and raised a finger with a slight grin. "Good news is both Nelson 'n Wash are kinda hardasses, so. You ain't gotta worry 'bout whiplash. They're mean all the time."

"That's not nice, Samael -- didn't your moms ever teach you about talking behind someone's back?"

Samael spun around and then beamed at a familiar face approaching them from a side tunnel. "Y'vonne! Perfect timin', hon!" He jogged forward to throw a tight hug around the rebel before she could scoot out of his reach. "How ya been!?"

"Apparently low on my hug quotient," she replied in a bemused tone, briefly squeezing Samael's shoulders before pushing him back. "New guy?"

"Aw yeah!" He spun around, an arm flying around her waist automatically as he thrust the other hand toward his latest recruit. "Meet Robin! He's joinin' us from the Reds!"

"I can see that," she chuckled, her gentle tone helping Samael feel a little less stupid.

Robin eyed her for a few seconds before offering a wan smile. "Did Shorty fuck you into joining up, too? Or does he only swing one way?"

Samael's eyes bulged and he spun back toward her to apologize as she raised her eyebrows. "Sorry! Robin's a li'l --"

"It's fine," she interrupted, studying Robin for a few seconds before offering a small smile down to Samael. "Interesting choice, Samael. Besides, I'd never complain about another fiery soul in these caves." She nodded firmly as she looked between the two. "We won't end this war with life lessons and good intentions, as much as I wish we could."

Samael nodded back with a relieved smile, trotting back to Robin's side so he could gesture more politely toward the other rebel. "Robin, this is Y'vonne! She used to be a teacher o'er in Stigma, learnin' them li'l kids all about math 'n stuff!"

Her smile grew kind. "Close! I taught literacy and history in a small town outside Twin City."

"So either Shorty wasn't one of your students...or you were a shitty teacher," Robin intoned.

Samael winced again and looked at Robin with a mix of mortification and concern. "Aw, Robin--"

But Y'vonne took it into stride, crossing her arms and fixing Robin with a stern expression. "It's like having a normal-sized Andee here." Her eyes graced his prosthetics for a moment before she tipped her head forward. "I know Samael won't chastise you for it, and the last thing you need is me talking to you like a kid. Everyone's here for a reason, and most of us didn't get to decide it. I lost nearly my entire class in just a few weeks because the Reds came through with draft orders."

"An' now she helps us out by writin' up fake transfers 'n stuff," Samael explained while rubbing the back of his head with a lame grin. "Nelson ain't ever sent me out with her 'cuz I'd sound like an idiot just tryna read it out loud."

Y'vonne laughed quietly and reached out to pat Samael's shoulder. "Don't be so tough on yourself. Just hearing your voice brings a smile to most of Q-Base, and no one needs another stuffy schoolteacher around, anyway. Variety is what makes us so strong."

"Not strong enough to avoid hiding in some old mine shafts, though," Robin remarked as he looked around. "All the Movement bases this shitty?"

"I think it's plenty cozy, and these walls keep us safe," Y'vonne responded, placing a hand on one of the support timbers nearby before smiling between the two. "I'll take that as my cue, regardless. I look forward to seeing you around, Robin. I think you'll like it here once you've settled in."

She excused herself to continue down the hall while Samael cheerfully called out a farewell. He waited a few seconds and then prodded Robin's side, carefully enough to avoid the fresh stitching from one of his many wounds. "C'mon, now, you ain't gonna make no friends 'round here like that!"

The flat expression Robin aimed down at him was enough to bleed out some of Samael's exuberance, and he did his best to prop a smile back into place. "A'right, a'right, I know, yer jus' here to fight," he mumbled while gesturing with his head in the direction they'd been traveling. "But I bet you'll prob'ly be sent out on a job with her 'n Aslan! They been needin' someone else to keep 'em safe while they're out doin' their thing..."

Robin gave a bemused snort as they proceeded down the hall. "Well, we saw how it turned out the last time I got put on a protection job..."

Samael frowned but then hopped in front of the ex-soldier to walk backward with a bright grin and arms thrown wide. "Yeah, but you ran into me! An' ain't no chance yer gonna find anyone else as cute 'n convincin' to get you to change sides!"

"Unless they put out with half as much yapping," Robin commented wryly. Samael took it as a win, however, tittering away as he spun back around and then led Robin down a different corridor.

"This way -- I wanna show ya the gym! We got some stuff fer sparrin', too..." He heard what might have been an intrigued grunt from Robin, breaking into a jog toward his destination.

But he realized the distinct sound of Robin's metal legs were no longer following him, and he halted while twisting around curiously on a paw to see his new recruit staring at the wall. Samael cocked his head, then realized why as he trotted back with an approving whistle. "Aw, yeah, almost walked right past this!"

He rejoined Robin's side so they could both peer up at the smoothed rock face covered in graffiti. Various symbols and logos dotted the stone surface, some spelling out an obvious message while others conveyed their intentions more subtly...and a few that were outright coded. "Some'a our folks had the idea to work with Kiden's guys 'n put this together, so the rest of us know what they mean when we see 'em on the streets," Samael explained, pointing toward one that was a near-perfect match to the burn on his wrist. "Them folks is on the ground in the cities 'n bigger towns, they ain't tucked away like we are. But that's 'cuz they don't fight the same way we do...they do stuff like settin' up protests, gettin' folks into safe-houses, 'n spreadin' the good word 'bout the resistance!"

He beamed and put his hands on his hips before pausing as Robin stepped forward with an inscrutable expression, placing a hand near one of the spray-painted symbols. "I know some of these," he muttered as his eyes darted across the wall. "Shit, I painted some of these..."

Samael perked up and looked at Robin curiously. "Wait, for real? Like...back 'fore..."

"Yeah." Robin seemed distracted by his own thoughts, his eyes clouded with memories that Samael could only imagine. Robin's claws dragged lightly across the outline of a symbol. "Had a fr...knew somebody. Always talked about the Movement. Wanted me to join, but. Had enough going on." He took a step back and Samael continued to gaze up at him. "Dunno what he did with them." His eyes hardened and Samael's heart clenched. "Didn't matter. We were just dumb kids, wanted to piss off the babosos that ran the joint." Robin shrugged as Samael tried to grasp into the lingering emotions. "Movement didn't do shit for us back then. Just another bedtime story."

Samael glanced back at the graffiti again before offering a hopeful smile. "You gotta chance to do summin' real fer those people now, though, make them stories come true. 'N maybe one day you could add one'a yer own masterpieces to this wall!"

Robin only looked at him neutrally for a few seconds, then shrugged again. "There ain't no people around who need my help anymore. Take me to the gym, gatito, show me somethin' useful."

Samael struggled not to sigh, even as his soul stretched out with a concerned whimper. "Yeah...yeah, fer sure, hon. Follow me..."

"I'm purdy sure Miz Reed's gonna whoop our asses if she finds out we done pumped iron after she put all them stitches in..."

Robin scoffed and turned around to let the hot water run down his spine, subsequently giving Samael a shameless view of his front. It'd be a lie for Samael to deny appreciating it, especially now that they were in a fairly-well-lit shower room and not fucking each other like rutting snow-deer in the dark. "What, don't tell me the incredible Shorty Samael can't woo ladies as easy as he does men?"

Samael grinned and forced his eyes upward as he carefully lathered soap around the tender puncture wound in his shoulder. "Hey, now, I can woo just 'bout anyone...I just, uh. I'm purdy sure I only swing fer the fellas. I think. Ain't really tried with no girls 'cept maybe once or twice back home..."

"So when you said you fucked trees before, you meant the family tree, pendejo," Robin muttered while his own gaze locked onto Samael's crotch for a few seconds before flicking up to his grin. "Don't gimme that look, you ain't the only one who can stare."

"I sure ain't gonna complain," Samael chuckled, twisting around to rinse off his chest as his tail jingled lightly. "Anyway, I ain't gonna snitch, no how. Wouldn't be the first time I hit the gym after a tough mission."

Robin grunted and faced his own wall as he scrubbed the last of the shampoo out of his mane. Samael glanced over his shoulder, making a valiant attempt not to stare too hard at the finely-sculpted ass and instead letting his eyes trace over the trio of small, metal pieces that appeared to be affixed to Robin's spine. He was no fancy science-doctor, but he could imagine they were related to Robin's prosthetic legs.

He tilted his head a bit while asking inquisitively: "So...so it ain't a problem fer you to get wet, I'm guessin'?"

"Aw shit, I forgot to unplug my legs!" Robin exclaimed, spinning around with widened eyes as Samael flinched and felt panic race through his limbs. He started to rush forward only for Robin to laugh and lift a leg so Samael's chest pressed into it. "Nah, just fuckin' with ya. Yeah, this shit's waterproof." He lowered his leg and then grabbed Samael's wrist before turning around and blindly guiding the smaller chupa's hand toward his spine. "Go ahead, feel me up, gatito."

Samael snorted but was driven by curiosity as the pads of his fingers roved across the metal objects. "So...so they're like...piercings? They're...inside you, I mean..."

Robin chuckled and looked over his shoulder in entertainment. "You really are kinda dumb, Shorty...but guess I won't complain about anyone who makes me seem smart." He nodded as Samael's fingers trailed down along his spine to poke each of the three pieces of technology. "They're called 'implants'. They're the shit that makes my legs go."

"Dang, I know someone who might be interested in summin' like this," Samael murmured while poking the lowest 'implant' as his tail swished slowly to and fro. "Man, how'd you afford this crazy stuff?! I know I'm a dumb ol' country boy, but I don't think I'm the only one 'round here who's never seen this kinda tech..."

"Afford?" Robin burst into raucous laughter, causing Samael to wince away while staring up awkwardly. "Ah, shit, good one, Shorty." He turned on a heel to face him, a bemused grin resting on his features. "I don't think it's your illiteracy that makes you look dumb, little man. Ya way too positive about a world that exists to make life shit for ninety-nine percent of us..."

Samael's tail drooped a little, but he still managed a small smile. "Aw, ain't nothin' wrong with tryna see the bright side'a things. You kicked my ass and tackled me off my ride...but I gotta new recruit out of it, and a new friend!" Robin only gave him a muted face that threatened to lower Samael's hopes even further. He remained dogged, however. "An', well...whatever happened to you 'n yer legs, you ended up with them pretty metal things, an' the opportunity to kick ass! It coulda been worse, right?"

Robin fixed him with an unreadable expression for several seconds before presenting a thin smile. "Sure, gatito. Coulda been worse. Coulda been better, too. Coulda been me buried in the ground and every-fucking-one else walking around with shiny new legs."

The words were drenched with enough frustration and pain that Samael's throat felt thick with the stuff. But Robin's painted smile curled upward a moment later as he grabbed the back of Samael's skull while lowering his own head to push their snouts together. "But ya know what? I don't really wanna talk about my legs right now. It ain't my legs you been starin' at the last ten minutes."

The sheepish grin betrayed Samael's emotional outcry as his heart cursed his flesh. "Heh, feels kinda like yer jus' tryna distract me, hon..."

Robin's eyes flashed, reflecting Samael's shame into his soul. "Then be distracted, Shorty..."

Samael cocked his head somewhat but still managed a chuckle as he sat back on his haunches. "At least I ain't gotta worry about makin' time fer pillow talk with you, hon," he remarked, only somewhat deflecting from his modicum of disappointment. "But, ah. Still ain't showed you yer room...better do that 'fore we get hollered at fer wastin' all the water..."

Robin grunted his understanding, twisting off his spigot and then lifting a leg to step over Samael and do the same to the other shower. "Fair enough, gatito. Gettin' hungry, anyway."

Samael glanced over his shoulder with a faint smile. "Yeah, good idea. Me, too." He shook his head to clear away the lingering self-admonishment, only to lift his gaze with surprise at the hand Robin thrust toward him. Samael reached up and accepted his grip, allowing himself to be hoisted back to his feet. "Thanks, hon."

Robin had already strode forward with a dismissive wave of his fingers. "Don't wanna wait on you suckin' the next cock that comes by while ya down there. Let's go, Shorty."

Samael smirked and took some sort of reassurance from Robin's crassness, jogging after him into the locker room. "Aw, shaddup 'n get dressed -- folks in the mess get mad at me when I swing by fer a snack without no pants on..."

Red vs Blue © Rooster Teeth. Halo © 343 Industries. Concept by Myshu, assisted by The Department of Chupapology.