Soldier: 76 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mylawn) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
aperture_high2016-06-15 02:23 am
mylawn) wrote in aperture_high2016-06-15 02:23 am
LET'S HIT THE ROAD I WAS SO CLOSE TO PERSONAL GROWTH
[ONCE UPON A TIME IN MEXICO...
Are you caught up? Good. We find our heroes having recently embarked upon a two thousand-mile road trip to San Diego (a real place) from Dorado (not really a real place), in search of experimental government technology. The plan is simple--horseback to the nearest hypertrain station. Sneak across the border, then commandeer a vehicle or perhaps another horse to complete the rest of the journey. Bust into an old Overwatch outpost, steal all of their shit, acquire a new tactical visor or something similar, and then part ways and he can go back to vengeance or whatever it is he's doing.
There is, unfortunately, only one horse, and Jesse McCree and his vaguely unhinged ex-commander are not exactly light or small (they are both tall and also kind of heavy). 76 is also more uncomfortable with the animal than he lets on, but that might just be because he's riding shotgun. Is that what you call it when you're not actually driving the horse, but are sort of behind the person driving the horse, in constant danger of slipping off the horse unless you hold onto the person driving the horse (which is unpleasant because 76 doesn't like sharing personal space and McCree is an unwashed hobo who still thinks cowboys are relevant)? Do you call it driving the horse?
Either way, this is uncomfortable--but not so uncomfortable that 76 doesn't eventually succumb to the fact that he stayed up the whole night before just in case McCree decided to bail on this operation. He nods off upright for a little, jarred awake every time they hit some kind of bump (which is often). Eventually, he slumps forward, conking out right against McCree. Probably the only reason he's not drooling on McCree is because he's put the face mask back on. The visor, however, is still totally busted.
Let dad rest.]
Are you caught up? Good. We find our heroes having recently embarked upon a two thousand-mile road trip to San Diego (a real place) from Dorado (not really a real place), in search of experimental government technology. The plan is simple--horseback to the nearest hypertrain station. Sneak across the border, then commandeer a vehicle or perhaps another horse to complete the rest of the journey. Bust into an old Overwatch outpost, steal all of their shit, acquire a new tactical visor or something similar, and then part ways and he can go back to vengeance or whatever it is he's doing.
There is, unfortunately, only one horse, and Jesse McCree and his vaguely unhinged ex-commander are not exactly light or small (they are both tall and also kind of heavy). 76 is also more uncomfortable with the animal than he lets on, but that might just be because he's riding shotgun. Is that what you call it when you're not actually driving the horse, but are sort of behind the person driving the horse, in constant danger of slipping off the horse unless you hold onto the person driving the horse (which is unpleasant because 76 doesn't like sharing personal space and McCree is an unwashed hobo who still thinks cowboys are relevant)? Do you call it driving the horse?
Either way, this is uncomfortable--but not so uncomfortable that 76 doesn't eventually succumb to the fact that he stayed up the whole night before just in case McCree decided to bail on this operation. He nods off upright for a little, jarred awake every time they hit some kind of bump (which is often). Eventually, he slumps forward, conking out right against McCree. Probably the only reason he's not drooling on McCree is because he's put the face mask back on. The visor, however, is still totally busted.
Let dad rest.]
no subject
McCree's eyes burn through him--he can feel it, but he doesn't acknowledge it. He digs around in one of his pouches instead, pulling out what seems to be first aid supplies.
There's a long, excruciating silence as he cleans the wound and bandages it. Eventually, he speaks up in reference to the metal wrist he just broke, like he's only now realizing that he did it.]
We can take a look at that tomorrow.
[When it's light out. 76 still sounds infuriatingly casual about the whole thing, like McCree definitely should have known better. He still doesn't seem to want to address the other elephant in the room.]
I told you I ain't who you knew.
[Perhaps that sounds a little despondent. Maybe it's the closest thing to an apology that McCree will get.]
no subject
I will look at it tomorrow. [He corrects, then rises off the log. He'll let 76 tend to the fire. He can't trust the man with his own arm but he'll trust him to keep a watch since he doubts he'll sleep any after all this. Even if he does (and McCree thinks he should sleep), he doubts any other Chupacabras will come stalking around so soon. Miguel is, fortunately, still out like a light. At least that's one blessing to count on.]
Damage already done. On many accounts, Jack.
[McCree excuses himself to look for Betty Sue, wherever that dang horse ran off to.]
no subject