Chapter Text
John and Kyle had already been two days on the civilian settlement, an unprecedent amount of time for John to abandon the base while not on a mission, but the settlement's leader kept being unreasonable.
Well, that's how John insisted on calling it.
Kyle was more inclined to think 'utter and complete moron without enough brain to fit under a nailbed', but that was probably the reason John was in charge of the negotiations.
"I'm not trying to take your people away from you," John said, the exasperation on his tone barely perceptible. "But we can't relocate this many people in such short notice, and the attack..."
"The attack you keep insisting is inminent, despite the machine's activity being almost null in this territory so far," the guy said, smugly.
Kyle counted mentally to ten. When he was barely up to four, John answered, still sounding completely calm. Yes, Kyle definitely had a long way to go in the field of diplomacy.
"I know I'm asking you a lot in terms of trust, but believe me: I'm seldom wrong about these things. My people's not chosen to follow me for my looks." he added, gesturing to his face.
The guy smiled, and Kyle gritted his teeth. John had told him the man's father had been a politician before the world had gone to hell in a handbasket, and obviously his leadership was inherited. You could tell just by looking at him he problably was one of the lucky few who hadn't even landed in a camp, let alone have to fight his way out of it.
"I wouldn't be so sure, Commander. You wear your scars very well," the man said, his voice lowering.
Ok, that was it. Kyle wasn't so naive he didn't recognize that tone, so it was obviously the time to call it quits, go outside, get the word of the settlement's inminent obliteration out and let the people with actual brains follow them to the evacuation site. Preferably after trampling all over their useless leader.
"Well, that's lucky, seeing as they keep piling up," John said, and his tone had too taken on a teasing, silky quality. "Just this month, I got two more. Would you like me to show you the last one?"
The guy, proving to have a complete disregard not only for his people's life but also for his own, leaned eagerly forward.
Or perhaps he was just unobservant, because if he'd as much as glanced at Kyle's expression, he would have been in fear for his life no matter how small his intelect.
"Please do," he said, and John smiled and obligingly rolled up his sleeve to reveal his stitched up forearm.
"Oh, that must have hurt," the man commented, brushing his fingers over the healing wound.
"Oh, it was nothing. It wasn't even a bullet; I landed over some metal. Now this..." he added, pulling at the collar of his shirt down to his collarbone,"Long distance shoot. It bounced on the bone. that hurt." He covered it and sat back before the guy could reach for that one too. That, of course, assuming he could before Kyle broke his fingers. "But that's an old one."
"And yet, I've heard you've never been away from combat." The man (Fredrickson, that was the name that was soon to be in a lapid if he kept jerking them around) almost purred.
"Like I said, I'm not followed by trivial reasons. I always put the safety of my people first." John said, steering the conversation thankfully back to topic, but without dropping the playful tone enterely. "It would be a shame, we didn't get to know each other very well because you thought I was trying to somehow take advantage of you."
Judging for Fdrerickson's expression, he wouldn't at all object to John taking advantage of him, though not perhaps in the sense John meant it.
"Commander Connor is only trying to save your sorry..." Kyle interrumpted; but he didn't get much further, because John dug his fingers on his leg with the excuse of bracing himself to get up.
"Look, why don't you think it over, perhaps consult your second in command, and let me know if we can give the order? You can have an answer for me in a few hours, can't you?"
"I'll certainly think of what you've told me, Commander," Fredrickson said, and shook his hand.
Kyle didn't break Fredrickson's fingers when it was his turn, but only because John pulled at his arm at the man's first yelp.
"All this fighting, builds your strenght. Sorry," Kyle said, anything but.
*
"What a moron," John complained, once they'd reached the accomodations they'd been given for the night. "Still, he's very well-regarded; I doubt anyone will accept to leave without his advise unless they're convinced they're in danger."
And according to John, the first attack would come out of nowhere and be devastating. Fantastic. Like it or not, they needed that moron.
"That wasn't your last scar," Kyle said, letting himself fall on his cot in an ill-humored way.
"Uh?" John said, distracted. He was checking the exits and setting their arms within reach. Theoretically the attack was still more or less a week away, but it never paid to be caught with your guard down.
"Last wound you got, was on your leg," Kyle answered. It'd been on John's thigh, and Kyle had been terrified that it'd touched the artery; but John's luck had held, as always.
"Yes, well, I always prefer to take off my pants only as a last resort." John said drily. Kyle stared at him. "That was a joke," he added, rolling his eyes. "Calm down."
"It wasn't funny," Kyle snapped, completely aware of his petulant tone.
"It was. I'm hilarious," John deadpanned. "Unlike Fredrickson. But I guess I can take another hour of his inane chat, if it means he'll finally cave. I'll call to the base and tell them to start getting the transport..."
"Wecan take another hour of his chat. Or are you going alone to the next meeting?" Kyle asked, sitting up. "You're not going alone to the next meeting."
John smiled, a touch bemused. "Are you concerned about my non-existing virtue?"
"Stop making fun of me!" Kyle all but screamed. John stared at him. Kyle forced himself to calm down. "Sorry. But you brought me here..."
"I brought you here to watch and learn. This can't be solved with good aim and stubborness; we have to outsmart this guy so he'll do what's right for his people, all the way thinking it was his idea. If what it takes is to pretend he's not a waste of space that the machines probably spared thinking he was a piece of cardboard, so be it. He's not the last of that kind you'll ever run into."
"In a way, it sucks more than fighting," Kyle muttered.
John sat at the foot of his cot and reached out to ruffle Kyle's hair. "I never said otherwise. Only that you have to be patient and do it."
Kyle lowered his eyes, and put his hand over John's, moving his fingers up until he reached the stitches, carefully feeling the tender skin around them in far more detail than Fredrickson had done.
"If he tries to do something more than shake our hands I will break his fingers," he said morosely.
"I saw a few bottles of good liquor on his office, so please don't do it before I get him to give us one," John said, walking back to his own side of the room.
Kyle found himself in too much of a foul mood to sleep very well.