orendalogs | IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

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IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

Who: Anyone, everyone? Aoba and Declan to start.
What: Destiny
When: After the House of Wolves, before The Taken King.
Where: Earth, The Last City, The Tower and beyond.
Warnings: Could be sorta zombie stuff (Hive), could be xenophilia? I dunno. Gen warnings, yo.

Earth. 700 years into the future, humanity is all but gone, huddled in a massive city in the mountains, surrounded by gargantuan walls and living in the shadow of the slumbering, perhaps dead, body of The Traveler. The massive being of benevolence and light that came to Earth bearing gifts of knowledge that would bring about the longest Golden Age in Terran history, hovering in geostationary orbit over The Last City of men, protecting what is left from The Darkness beyond with the remains of it's Light.

For those on Earth it is a well-known story. With The Traveler's dying breath it created Ghosts, fragments of living Light that in turn resurrected men and women across the galaxy, bringing to bear the Guardians, warriors to fight the Darkness. Earth and all the nearby planets are populated by humans, the Awoken, Exos and a variety of species of ever more distant origins, some less generous than others. The Guardians make their headquarters in a colossal spire at the edge of The Last City. There, in the Tower, the Vanguard and other factions of humanity work together to hold the line and fight the Darkness and every other threat to the known universe. The little understood Guardians rarely venture beyond the Tower, preferring the company of their brothers and sisters in arms, but all look to the Tower as a beacon of hope.

There is danger and adventure to be had; the likelihood of death and the possibility of rebirth. The future is uncertain, but all who walk in the Light know the Darkness is coming, and the wise life to the fullest.

[ Destiny Wiki ]

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“Guns, no,” Desire admitted. Aoba was either a terrible liar, or he just wasn’t one, so he stuck with the truth. “Street fights, yes. Killed some people, yes.”

Predictably, Reason lost it. What are you talking about, that’s a lie! and other things on those lines, though he could tell as much as Desire already knew: it wasn’t a lie. He didn’t know what the actual truth was, but it was there, simmering, the same as the agitation that had risen up in Desire with the watching of the violent Sparrow-racing. Something that wanted to chase that adrenaline edge of near-death, and had, somewhere where Aoba couldn’t fully remember.

Desire shoved him back anyway, for the first time actively maintaining his grip on the forefront of their consciousness. He put a hand down on Ren too, silencing another protest from the Allmate’s end by forcing him into sleep mode. To his other self, he said, I’m not explaining it to you right now. But that fancy little trick you do on the phone taking orders for the junk shop? You can do a lot more than that.

“I want to go looking,” he said aloud to Mac. “Feel free to say ‘no’. It’ll let me test out the other thing I can do.”

"I'm not gonna say no. Like I said, your life, man. I want you and Declan happy together, but that doesn't mean forcing you into a bubble," Mac shrugged, turning around and tapping a few controls.

"Triangulate on Declan's Ghost," the Warlock ordered his own Ghost, who bobbed in a small nod. Before long they were scooting along in the clouds, out of reach of any weapons but low enough to get the gist of the landscape.

"Does Big D know? He seems to think you're generally a pacifist."

“He doesn’t know this side of me as well as he does the rest,” Desire answered, leaning against the back of Mac’s seat as he watched the planet whip by below. To think it hadn’t been all that long since they’d been touring Venus on foot. Taken off to the Reef just to be brought back to it, except he’d been watching races while Declan was searching for mysteries.

“So, no,” he said more plainly. “He doesn’t know. Showed him my roundhouse once and he said I’d make a good Hunter-” he tapped the chest of his white-and-blue-shaded gear, which he had to assume was Hunter-style because of that comparison, “-but he’s never seen me in trouble, and the Aoba he’s more familiar with doesn’t remember a lot of the things I’m more responsible for.”

"You sure it's a good idea for you to go out there half-cocked? I mean, with only part of you on board," he hummed, glancing up at Aoba and tapping a few places on the ship display, zooming in and enhancing the overhead planet view.

"High kicks aren't gonna do a lot of good if a Hobgoblin tries to snipe you, or if a Vandal creeps up and stabs you in the back, or a Hydra materializes on top of you. I'm not Declan...I can get your back and shoot first, but I can't shield you, and neither of us are medics by any stretch."

“I’m not saying drop me right into the middle of things.” Desire closed his eyes for a moment, attentions turned inwards.

Reason was unsettled, confused, even afraid. He didn’t know what his other half was talking about, was shocked by the very idea that somewhere in his past people had died because of him. His teenage years had been rough, he knew that. He’d caused Granny a lot of grief and heartache, he knew that too. But to hear what this forgotten side of himself was saying was just….

But Aoba agreed with himself on one thing. He was tired of being carried along, of not supporting his own metaphorical weight. Maybe getting dropped into a battlefield wasn’t a logical first stepping stone to being Declan’s equal partner, but what else was there?

“These things you all fight,” he addressed Mac again, opening his eyes. “They have working ears and brains?”

"Some of them, definitely, others, not so much. It's hard to explain simply because we don't know about them ourselves," Mac replied with a long sigh, pointing to the screens. His Ghost bobbed a little nod, and the Warlock got up, walking around the cockpit towards a back area near the mess, clearly a place of research. Strange artifacts littered a workbench, old books tucked into cubbyholes. Reaching out for a stack of papers and leafing through them, he laid out several showing excellent sketches of Vex, Fallen, Cabal, and other lesser creatures.

"Cabal and Fallen definitely do, they're humanoid carbon-based, not much different from any of us. Vex though," he tapped on a few breakdown images of the constructs.

"They're nothing like anything we've encountered before. We thought they were just artificial life forms, metal constructs, but it turns out they're far, far more complex. Biological artificial metal constructs. Metal and organic, but not like cyborgs. Down to the last cell, it's a little of both. They don't have brains...their thinking parts are fluid. And they don't communicate the way you and I do. they're a hive mind. While physically they're not the strongest, mentally they're impossible to fully comprehend."

It was a weird question for a person to normally ask, but Mac didn’t ask a ‘why?’ and just answered it straight up, which Desire appreciated on one quiet level or another. He followed the Warlock when he moved and observed what he was shown. He had some passing familiarity with the various ‘races’ of the Guardians’ enemies, given the many long explanations Declan had done his best to give whenever showing Aoba around one locale or another, but he’d never questioned their exact biology before.

“Sounds like a challenge,” he said of the Vex, but quietly, intense rather than uncontrolled. Maybe having Reason pressing on him at the back of his thoughts wasn’t all bad. It kept him focused.

“So avoid the mechs, but the bugs and ogres are fair game,” Desire said to himself as well, shifting the sketches about with one hand, studying the distinct shapes and silhouettes.

"It's not as easy as all that," Mac warned, looking up with perfectly tended brows knitting together in concern for his possibly crazy friend.

"Venus is mostly dominated by the Vex. There's plenty of Fallen, but no Hive, thank goodness. That's a whole other mess, but mostly confined to Earth and the Moon. Mostly. The Vex are everywhere here, though, and that's what Declan is fighting. Hm...my best guess is that if he's fighting Vex and it's about getting you home, he's trying to take down another Vex Gatelord. They're the ones that have universal key codes for the gates that teleport them through time and space. Educated guess says he's trying to get you a direct line home. He didn't mention it, though, which is unusual...I figure Xur just thought it was easier to have him gather the parts and not ask questions. The Nine are like that..."

Edited 2018-11-22 17:08 (UTC)

“All the more reason for me to get involved,” Desire mused, pulling over the Vex sketches. If they were biological, even on some level, then something would have to be vulnerable. “That’s my ride home he’s fighting for.”

Taking his hand back, Desire touched a covered sheath attached to one leg and experimentally undid it. Easy enough. The dagger he pulled out was the same crystalline one Declan had gifted Aoba what seemed like half an age ago, and which he had in turn been instructed to bring along. Reason had done his very best not to think about the weapon he was carrying, but Desire remembered.

“The weapons he picked out for me to carry are with the rest of my gear. Auto-targeting. I can carry them as backups for you, or you can give me a quick rundown on how to point and shoot.”

"Point and shoot is pretty easy if it's auto-targeting. I can show you the parts to use and you can go from there. Since we're going into a place that's just hostiles and Guardians, you don't have to worry about what you hit. Just point and shoot. If you've got it, go gear up. We'll go over the basics when you're done."

Just like that, Aoba was conscripted, Mac not the sort to argue about what others wanted to do, particularly when he felt they weren't wrong.

When Aoba came back, Mac went over the weapons with him, showed him how to hold them, where to put his hands, how to lift, what the different settings were. Unlike Declan, who would have respected Aoba's unease, Mac was of the mind that if you aren't properly armed and prepared to fight, you aren't going. End of story. So quite being a crybaby bitch and start listening.

By the time they found the stone plateaus where Declan was hidden somewhere, Aoba at least knew what the guns were capable of and how to utilize them. He'd have to learn to aim and hit targets on the go.

"There's too much interference from the gates for me to get us any nearer to his location. It's on foot from here," Mac's Ghost intoned, the Warlock nodding and affixing the rest of his armored robes, looking for all the world like a science-fiction version of a Templar Knight.

"Keep an eye on your shield gauge readouts," Mac warned, tapping his helmet, indicating Aoba should pay attention to the headsup display in his own. "If you get anywhere near 30%, duck and roll for cover, hide behind anything you can, hunker down and wait for the shields to come back up. That's the only thing guaranteed to keep you alive right now. Most Hobgoblin snipers can take your shields down to thirty with on shot. Sometimes more. You will die. Understand? So if you're near it, play smart. I can't watch everything for you."

Trespasser, Vision of Confluence, Dragon’s Breath. Aoba recalled the names of the weapons as he unpacked them and attached them to his gear as he’d been shown. And though his eyes stayed gold as he paid attention to Mac’s lessons, it most assuredly counted as Aoba who paid attention.

He didn’t have to want to fight, he didn’t even have to enjoy fighting, but if he was going to fight for something he believed in—for someone he wanted to stand beside with any sense of pride or self-worth—then he had to go all in. Desire kept the reins still, but Reason quieted his questions for another time. For Declan’s sake, they were attuned.

He put his helmet on and detached the bag that Ren had ridden in, instructing the Allmate to stay on the ship. Ren was obviously less than pleased, but did not protest. A little dog, after all, was even less suited for a battlefield than an untrained civilian.

Considering the gauges, which had of course been there every other time he’d worn the gear but had been of no relevance before, Aoba nodded. “Just like in Rhyme,” he murmured, with a sound of amusement to go with the wry smirk under his helmet. It wasn’t Rhyme. Rhyme was as close to real as you could get without it actually being real—but people died in Drive-Bys just the same.

With the scout rifle in his hands, Aoba then gave a dry laugh and a shrug. “Hey, maybe some stray Ghost will take a liking to me if I fuck it all up, huh? Then you can all lighten up.”

Of course, he wouldn't remember anyone either, if the whole resurrected-with-amnesia thing held true even with recently-risen Guardians, but hey. Dark humor was dark humor.

"Um...how about we just try not to get dead, and we'll all laugh about that later. Right now that is the least likely eventuality, soooo...yeah," Mac trailed off, cocking his rifle and nodding forward as they moved out and Ghost pulled the ship back a safe distance.

They moved through the jungle ruins, Mac directing Aoba with silent gestures, creeping through swift and silent. He used gestures as universal as possible, directing Aoba this way and that, slow down, fall back, crouch, crawl, eyes on target. It was stealth reconnaissance for the most part, moving through enemy territory, avoiding contact. Eventually the found evidence of confrontation and started following Declan's (most likely) path of destruction. They were caught and attacked occasionally, but Mac did his best to put threats down quickly, keeping Aoba from having to risk much. When they found a target isolated, he usually ordered Aoba to take the first shots, getting experience in the field. Whenever Aoba missed, there was no reprimand or impatience, Mac just fired behind him and took care of it. Better luck next time, he said. He made sure Aoba knew that they would beserk without heads, too, so center shots only.

Eventually they came to the plateaus and found a massive concentration of Vex lurking about, looking for something. Evidently they were in the area they'd find Declan, since the Vex were on high alert trying to find the Titan.

"Alright, we gotta keep comm chatter silent, they'll track anything we try to send to Big D. We're gonna have to find him the old fashioned way. Stick with me, alright? Head up my ass close, don't fall behind. We're either gonna trip over him, or have to rush in as soon as we hear gunfire. The latter is most likely. Still gonna have to be careful. Alright, move out."

And they were off into the real danger, waiting for the inevitable sounds of combat to guide them.

Aoba could hardly be said to be called a natural, but he took to the field better than most ordinary civilians probably would have. Desire was not immune to fear, seeing as that too was a very basic human emotion, but it couldn’t consume his thoughts the way it might have if Reason were driving. The things he most strongly embodied were desirous and destructive, and though the latter part had been docile lately, the violence of the Sparrow races had reminded him. The danger Declan was in was fuel upon the sparks, and the ignition upon it all was how fucking tired he was of being baggage.

Center shots were easier than headshots, ironically. He missed from misunderstanding his gun’s ability to auto-target, mostly. He still had to focus, had to aim enough to catch the targets in the gunsights. It wasn’t spray-and-pray or fire-and-forget. He had to sight them himself.

Their inhumanity helped, in that regard. Reason could find little to dwell on, guilt-wise at least, when the creatures in his crosshairs were machines with cyclopic faces—and very much out to kill them, first.

The adrenaline quickening his blood was heady, addicting. He might have even been a little turned on. But he was also getting all the angrier. This wasn’t just a random handful of enemies, like crossing paths with a rival gang. Declan was alone out here against what seemed to be a small army.

He gave Mac a thumbs up, acknowledging the instructions. Jokes aside, he had no intention of dying.

Sooner or later, they found him. It was the first time Aoba got to witness Declan in full action, and it was certainly impressive. All on his own, the Titan plowed through hordes of enemies, throwing up shields, rolling across the ground and reloading as he moved, cutting down swaths of Vex. Mac made some vague sound of relief when he found the man, then called out directly for Aoba to follow close behind and watch their six before charging in ahead.

"INCOMING!" Mac shouted, Declan's head whipping up in confusion, expression unreadable behind his mask. His tense posture said everything: he was not happy to see Aoba in the field. Fortunately for the lot, there was no time to dwell.

All hell broke loose in an instant. Mac leapt into the air and literally burst into flames, heat and light radiating from his body as he threw blast of flame everywhere that exploded moments later, turning metal creatures into slag. Declan thundered over on heavy boots, turning hard and slamming his back up against Aoba's, throwing a shield up around them both. Standing back to back and turning a step at a time, he fired rapidly while Mac drifted on wings of fire.

Aoba got to see Declan angry mere seconds later, Vex Minotaurs bursting through his shield and going after the human while the Titan was stuck reloading. Roaring at the metal creatures even as they screeched in return, the massive man threw himself bodily, balled fists hitting so hard he caved their armored chests in. Bodies started falling as Mac landed and started throwing bolts of lightening, Declan abandoning his good sense and gun in favor of physically pummeling everything in sight.

Mac leapt away from him and Aoba has his eyes to his sights, picking out his targets. In the end, the Vex made for remarkably convenient targets. A body was a wider target than a head, and the glowing white sections of their abdomens practically broadcast their positions. Even when they ducked their crested heads in the way, craniums shattering under the gunfire and driving them berserk, all he had to do was keep aiming.

He heard Declan more than he saw him. Felt him. That thud against his back, the fury he radiated. When the Titan stepped, Aoba read him and stepped to. He was no Guardian, no Hunter, not trained and probably never would be, but the contact Declan made with him was electric and somehow, Aoba read it right away.

Maybe it was because only moments later, the Titan was something just as feral as Aoba’s core was. And somewhere in that madness, Aoba was laughing.

One of the hulking chassis, the kind called Minotaurs, escaped Declan’s swathe of destruction and thundered Aoba’s way. He fired the last shots in his magazine, shifting his stance when his trigger pulls earned only dry clicks, focusing all of his attention on that shimmering white core-

-at lot more happened at Aoba’s perspective than the outside. Between one step and the next the Minotaur uttered a warbling, distorted keen and the light went out as it buckled to the ground. As for Aoba, he snapped out of a moment that had gone on for eternity and pulled off his helmet, turning to survey the battlefield with wildness in the brilliant gold of his eyes.

They weren’t as impossible as Mac thought.

“VEX!” he shouted, voice flanged and resonant, something a normal human throat would have never formed. He ordered their attention, not the Guardians’, and all across the battlefield the mechlike creatures staggered and froze, red eyes all turning his way.

Sitting targets for Declan and Mac to be sure, not one reacting even if the Guardians continued to mow them down, but Aoba was absolutely not about to be content with that.

“YOU DO NOT FIT THE PATTERN,” he told them. “BE REMOVED FROM IT AND BE DESTROYED.”

And then what happened to the one Vex happened to them all. In chaotic synchronicity they screamed in their myriad voices, collapsing in on themselves, the white lights of their liquid minds going dark and leaving their metal shells empty as they fell to the Venusian soil.

By the end of it, only the Guardians, and Aoba, still stood.

It was going to be a hard won battle, they might be wounded, there might be casualties, they needed to call for back-u--

It was over.

Like a snap of the fingers, Vex fell all at once, Declan and Mac and Aoba all back to back to back, the two Guardians working easily in tandem from years of serving together, knowing instinctively that they each needed to use themselves to shield Aoba...and then silence. A few crackles, pops and hisses, electric life ebbing away from metal corpses. All of the previous rage in the Titan started seeping out far faster than usual, like he was hemorrhaging anger from a wound caused by confusion. Mac was just as confused - moreso for having less warning and not being fully aware of Aoba's secret weapon - and turned slowly, looking over his shoulder at their peculiar addition.

"Well...shit."

Declan looked over at Mac, then turned to Aoba, looming there as the Warlock sidled off for a moment to make sure everything was dead, occasionally whistling with a mixture of awe and fear. What the hell had he just witness? Nothing he wanted to be on the wrong end of, that was for sure.

The Titan was less mystified, still more concerned with Aoba's presence, a big hand reaching out and gripping a badly singed part of the man's cloak, silently pointing out how dangerous it had been by drawing attention there.

"Are you alright?" was all he said, though. No anger or accusation, no complaining, no fighting. He understood why Aoba was there, even if he didn't like it. He did, at least, appreciate that the man sought him out and was determined to fight, too, when before he'd been so adamantly against it.

"Gatelord head?" Mac asked from a few yards away, prodding a dead Vex with his foot.

"Yes. I still need it...but at least we don't have to go through all these troops," Declan answered, looking across the clearing at a sparking gate.

"I'll take care of it. You two uh...sit tight..." Mac mumbled, feeling a bit awkward as he jogged off towards the gate, his Ghost materializing at his side.

"I'm sorry, Aoba. I just wanted you safe."

Exhilaration. That was the word. Aoba’s coy little twists of his voice were nothing compared to such wide-scale, wanton destruction. Part of him was stricken and shocked, afraid that this was what he had meant when he said he’d killed before, but the rest of him said, no, never like this. Never so much.

But also never to keep safe something so important.

There was still something crazed in his golden eyes when Declan touched him, but it reeled him back in. So his cloak needed mending. The Titan, on the other hand, would not.

But for heavy breathing, slowly calming, he was quiet while the Guardians exchange words. When he was addressed again, he was still gold, but also closer to tame again.

“Same, big guy,” he agreed, reaching up to pat his gloved hand against his armored ‘home’ a couple times. “That, and I’ve had enough of you fighting all my battles for me. I want to be your partner, not your burden.”

"I...don't know how to be anything else," Declan sighed softly, reaching up and laying a hadn over the one on his chest.

"I protect. I'm a protector. I feel it in ever fiber of my being. It isn't just being a Guardian - Mac is a Guardian and he'll run if he thinks it's what needs to happen - it's just who I am. It's even more with you. For you," he mused, looking off at the far gate, the Warlock blazing through piles of lesser Vex, luring the Gatelord out. He felt he ought to go help, but he knew Mac could solo the situation as well as himself. He could...wait. Stay with Aoba for a moment. If Mac needed help, he'd ask.

"You've never been a burden. It makes me feel complete, doing things for you, instead of just for everyone. Hm...It...doesn't matter." Because his feelings didn't matter, his affections didn't matter, his motivations. He needed to stop talking and thinking about it so much. Focus on getting Aoba home.

“Yes, it does,” Aoba countered, gaze softening the moment he heard those last three words. Before that his attention had wavered, drawn to the blasts of Mac dealing with the appearance of more Vex, but the feel of a hand over his own was distracting. Those final words, in particular, were not to be dismissed.

His eyes were still gold, but some of that deeper edge went out of his voice and his gaze was direct without challenging. One aspect was still more to the forefront than the other, but they…blurred. While Desire had been thrilling in the races for the hours that they had gone on, Reason had been free to think. Overthinking, probably, as the accusation frequently went, but at least Mac’s well-meaning intervention had jostled him out of the usual ruts.

This wasn’t the place to be having the conversation that needed to happen, maybe, eventually—but something had to be said about those words. The Titan still had his helmet on so there were no expressions to read, but his body language still said plenty.

“Everything you do, say, or think, matters to me. I don’t want you to stop protecting me. I want to protect you, too.”

"I can't die, Aoba. You can. Or...at least, I'd rather not find out," the Titan sighed, head tilting slightly, a vague smile in his tone. He appreciated the sentiment and respected it, he simply couldn't risk it. It wasn't a matter of keeping Aoba from being independent, it was only that Declan could afford the greater risk and was more than willing to take them.

"If...you can fire from a distance, and watch your back, you can stay here and pick them off from behind and around us, alright?" he conceded, pulling the other man's hand away and gazing across the field before cocking his rifle and checking the clip.

"I can't let other people fight my fights, either. Stay safe," the big man said, reaching up and gently clapping a hand against the side of Aoba's helmet before turning and thundering off into the fray. Rested for a moment and feeling less worried about Aoba on the whole, the Titan's renewed vigor paid off and the two Guardians were soon wrecking a massive Vex. They utterly destroyed the thing, then pulled it's head from it's chassis and vanished it with the transmat.

"Uh...I'll head back to the Reef. You two catch up, yeah? Aoba, come get your stuff when you guys get back..." Mac coughed softly, shooting finger guns at them both. Declan looked down at his own hand a moment in confusion before shooting a finger gun in return, earning a loud laugh from the retreating Guardian.

Well, that had Aoba sighing, expression returning to its Desire’d norms as he put his helmet back on just in time to get it clapped before he pulled his hood back up. He didn’t rightly know if wearing it interfered with the powers of his voice, but it had been as impulsive as it had been deliberate, removing it when he did.

“It’s not your fight,” he muttered into the thunder of the Titan’s bootsteps, but he reloaded his rifle and hung back because it had been requested of him. If nothing else, he could experiment a bit more, too.

So, if either Mac or Declan noted singular Vex collapsing without a bullet striking, well, it was no hallucination. Perhaps, Aoba thought, he should look into trying out a sniper rifle. If he could direct his mind from even further than this, well then….

When it was all done and over with, Mac was ridiculously unsubtle—at least to Aoba, who’d been lectured and all, and was quite sure he knew perfectly well as to why he was ‘abandoning’ them so swiftly. Had to admit, though. Declan’s discovery of the ‘finger gun’ was weirdly cute.

“Well you have to admit one thing,” he said, giving the Titan’s arm a light thump. “Now you’re home in a few hours instead of a couple days. Not bad, right?”

"Very true. Spending more time with you is better than spending more time running errands for the Nine," Declan replied, stoic after a fight and still feeling a little irritable about Mac bringing Aoba precisely where he hadn't wanted the man to be.

Asshole.

"You...can go home any time now. After we deliver the things the Nine asked for, you'll have updated maps for your portal things, and a direct route to your time and home. Snap of the fingers," the Titan remarked neutrally as they walked out to where Declan's ship was.

"Hm." Not precisely neutral, on Aoba's end, but no real excitement, either. "I owe you a hell of a lot, then. Who knows where I'd be right now if I hadn't been dropped a room away from you.

"But don't think that means I'm heading home as soon as that, either," he added, slinging his rifle across his back once more as the familiar and decidedly modest shape of the Mariner came back into view. "I'm not exactly done with everything I want and need to do before I go back to the island for a while." Aoba started ticking things off on his fingers. "I need something sturdy to use as a time capsule, I need to see your favorite place on the Moon, I need to see the Queen, I need to have a good long chat with you and clear some things up... I'm not going anywhere for at least another week."

The man's chest rose and fell with a deep, calming breath. It pleased him immensely to know that Aoba was choosing to stay longer, even if he felt selfish for it. He wanted the man to go home, to see his family again, but he didn't want to run him off. It was a fine line, really.

"Well...I'll give you all the time I can spare, Aoba. What do you want to do first?" the Titan asked, tilting his head slowly, undoubtedly smiling behind his helmet as he paused by the ladder ascending into the Mariner.

So easy to read. All the time he could spare, huh? Given how much he'd 'spared' on Aoba already, that was bound to be significant.

But that also begged the question: how much time could potentially be wasted if secrets were kept up to the last moment? Part of him wanted to balk, wanted to say he needed more time still... but at the same time, had to admit he was being afraid of things he had very little evidence for. Not just according to Mac, but according to the things he knew, rationally, despite the fears.

And the side of him that was not so afraid, in turn, even considered his powers, expressed and rediscovered for the first time in years, to such great effect. He thought of the idea he'd had before, of Declan speaking to both his sides at once, and wondered if that should even be necessary.

"...Well. As soon as you're up for that good long chat, we should have it. You need to make that delivery first? Rest up? Maybe get you a meal back at the Reef?"

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