worthallthis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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pennysheets2021-03-12 02:48 pm
worthallthis) wrote in pennysheets2021-03-12 02:48 pm
Entry tags:
Deals [For Rumplestiltskin]
It took the Soldier two weeks to find his rescuer. The only reason it took two weeks instead of four days was HYDRA agents kept getting in the way, and then he kept having to detour to clean out whole bases of them, because he certainly wasn't going to just leave them there, to come after him again. It feels good, leaving behind nothing but fire and death, but it doesn't feel right.
So finally, somewhere in Eastern Europe, he walks into the little shop of curios and crap where the shaggy-haired little man, the one he remembers from his first moments after the Chair, is standing behind the counter.
He's got a hat-- he fucking hates hats, but he's got one-- and two layers of shirt over one of the Soldier-specific kevlar vests. Plus a jacket. The boots are the same, because finding decent combat boots with protective toes and completely waterproof soles is hard, and these are comfortably broken in. His hair is still loose, because he hasn't had the thought to tie it up. But he hasn't shaved, so there's some beard, and he's been steadily losing weight since the escape, but he thinks the man will still recognize him.
He hopes the man will still recognize him. The Soldier is not that great at explanations. He's not that great at anything except hunting and shooting.
So finally, somewhere in Eastern Europe, he walks into the little shop of curios and crap where the shaggy-haired little man, the one he remembers from his first moments after the Chair, is standing behind the counter.
He's got a hat-- he fucking hates hats, but he's got one-- and two layers of shirt over one of the Soldier-specific kevlar vests. Plus a jacket. The boots are the same, because finding decent combat boots with protective toes and completely waterproof soles is hard, and these are comfortably broken in. His hair is still loose, because he hasn't had the thought to tie it up. But he hasn't shaved, so there's some beard, and he's been steadily losing weight since the escape, but he thinks the man will still recognize him.
He hopes the man will still recognize him. The Soldier is not that great at explanations. He's not that great at anything except hunting and shooting.
no subject
He looks him over, debating whether he should leave him here to watch the shop, but there is little reason.
...He supposes somebody will have to use the bed in the flat upstairs, after all.
"It will not take me long to finish, but you can lock the front door while you wait." He supposes he will have to feed him as well. "Are you hungry?"
no subject
Moving obediently out to the front door to flip the sign over to "closed" and lock it up-- it really could stand a better lock, he thinks; he could pick this one in under thirty seconds; and stronger glass in the window to protect it from being broken-- he considers "hungry". He knows he needs fuel at regular intervals, but he's not great at recognizing actual hunger yet. Possibly because he's literally never eaten enough for it to go away, so it's just a part of the whole mess of discomfort that makes up his body.
"I should eat," he decides.
no subject
The door leads into a small corridor for stairs, a deadbolted, nondescript door that would lead out, allowing one to take out garbage without being in view of the street. A single but strong lightbulb burns above, leading to a landing one floor up and an additional locked door. The smaller man fishes a key from his coat pocket and let's them in, the flat beyond is simple and elegantly, if modestly decorated, the main room mostly living area and study, with a small sofa and chair, then a small, lit desk, a couple tasteful lamps, a modest television, a record player, and what looks like an old wooden spinning wheel. The smallest portion of the main room is kitchen -- a stove and oven, a sink, very little counter space, an icebox, a few cupboards, and a small table with two chairs -- one of which has probably never been sat in. The two areas are separated by doorways leading to a bath and a cozy bedroom on either side.
Gold retires his coat to the rack by the entrance for the moment, replacing it with a simple apron, pulled over his vest and shirt, at ease with setting right to work.
He doesn't cook often. If he could have heard thoughts, he would have identified a great deal with how he rarely got to the point of being hungry. Usually sometime after overtaxing himself. He woke after storming that base absolutely ravenous, for instance. But it's not like he forgets how to.
And if he is going to have a ... guest, he imagines it will need to be done more often until he is certain how well the soldier can fend for himself.
"Bathroom is through there if you need to wash up," he indicates the way.
no subject
Only once that's complete does he consider any need of his own. He glances between his hands and Gold's shoulder, or thereabouts, trying to discern if that was a hint that he stinks or looks messy, or if it was... human-type-person being polite. He decides to err on the side of caution and slips into the bathroom without another word to at least wash his hands and face, and splash some water on his hair, just in case. At least he knows he's not got blood anywhere. He'd been careful to be at least outwardly presentable before approaching his new handler.
He doesn't linger at the mirror. He's not fond of mirrors. Looking at his own face is uncomfortable. He just comes back out, following the smell of food to the kitchen on the far side of the room.
no subject
"I will have to obtain more supplies in the morning," he explains, "but this should tide you over for now."
He busies himself with tidying after the small mess he made preparing so he has an excuse to give his back to him and think. Namely what he is going to do with him. This setup may suffice for the time being; it's not as though he hasn't kept a servant close by before. But a small flat is not a castle.
god, so sorry for the slow, I've had this tab open for a WEEK
Finally, halfway through the soup-- which takes a lot less time than you'd think, because the Soldier is inhaling it-- he speaks up. Frankly, he shouldn't be speaking out of turn, but he needs to learn about his new handler. The man clearly has some kind of power, but he also seems to have a settled life. That had to come from somewhere. "Did you have this place before HYDRA had you?"
it was my turn to take forever to tag back!
He glances up at the question, not so much snapping out of a reverie as briefly detouring. "Yes." So much of his energy went into taking back any of his inventory that had been seized, or destroyed. "About a year now."
Which...given the number of things in the store, is saying a good deal. It looked like he had been settled there a lifetime.
no worries at all :3
And keep Gold safe. He debates (through the rest of the soup) whether to ask, but so long as he gets an answer, he'll accept the punishment for asking after a handler's weakness. "How did HYDRA catch you."
Re: no worries at all :3
That question throws him, and he glances back, briefly. Because if they had other bases (and he is sure they did), other operatives who knew what he had done, or wanted him recaptured, this would have been an interesting way to spring a trap.
"An ace in the hole I hadn't anticipated."
Gold had no idea how they had managed to pull the dagger into this world after him, or if it followed him, because the agents he tortured for information would not or could not tell him before they died. But the holder got careless, or did not fully understand the power he held.
I blame DW eating notifs for this one, never even saw it...
Finally he offers, "If there's anything I can do to prevent it happening again. Just tell me. And I will do it." He's got no desire to go back there, either, after all.
no subject
Where that placed this young man, he did not think to care. He would be free, surely. His debts, however imaginary, paid.