Voicemail (IC Contact Post) OLD - at capcha

[abrightboy]

 This is Bright. Leave a message.

Comments

text; vaguely April 1st or 2nd

[cactusy]

how badly did that breach kick your ass?

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[abrightboy]

You’re awake! It wasn’t bad. Raylan looked after me. He was my brother. Are you okay? Do you need anything? Like tea or scotch or chicken soup? Coffee? Scrambled eggs?

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[cactusy]

take it down a notch there, eager beaver

Re: Text

[abrightboy]

Just coffee then?

Text

[cactusy]

just soup

Re: Text

[abrightboy]

On my way!

[He shows up with a container and a spoon a short time later.]

It has some kind of beans in it but it smells like a chicken broth?

[Which makes sense considering Raylan’s chicken haul.]

[cactusy]

[Shaw stands in the doorway to Steve's cabin and just kind of... blinks at him for a moment, as if her brain needs a few seconds to interpret his words.]

Okay.

[She says, reaching out to take the container.]

Thanks.

[abrightboy]

Neal says you protected him during the breach. Thank you.

[cactusy]

Yeah. We, uh...

[Her fingers grip the soup container hard.]

We traveled together.

[abrightboy]

Do you want to talk about what happened?

[cactusy]

Pretty sure your brand of therapy would literally drive me insane right now, Malcolm.

[abrightboy]

I just meant as a friend.

[cactusy]

[She arches an eyebrow.]

Are you actually capable of turning it off?

[abrightboy]

Not... inside my brain. But. I can just. Not say anything.

[cactusy]

[In response, she just... steps back, turns around, and retreats into the cabin.

But she leaves the door open behind her, rather than trying to usher Malcolm out first.]

[abrightboy]

[He follows her uncertainly.]

Is... that a yes?

[cactusy]

[She makes a noncommittal noise, sitting heavily down on the couch with her food in her lap.]

Close the door behind you.

You ever gonna let me train you with a gun, Bright?

[abrightboy]

The FBI trained me with a gun, but if it means a lot to you, I’d be open to a refresher.

[He looks up at her from under his brow as he sits across from her.]

Worried about me?

[cactusy]

If I'm talking about personal stuff with you, you're gonna talk about personal stuff with me. Quid pro quo.

[She pops the soup open, lifting it with both hands to take a sip of broth, leaving the spoon sitting on her lap for now.]

Anything in particular change your mind?

[abrightboy]

Have I been holding something back? I’m a pretty open book. I’m not against training. I never was. Just don’t want to waste your time, when I probably won’t use it. You don’t seem like someone who suffers time wasters.

[cactusy]

The gym thing. That's all. Made it seem like you were pretty against the idea.

[abrightboy]

Of using them, not of learning how to use them.

[cactusy]

[She pauses to dig her spoon into the soup, hunting around for those beans.]

So it's about context.

Would it help to hear that you really don't sound much like your dad at all?

[abrightboy]

It always helps to hear that.

[It's a high compliment, in fact, and he directs the smile he can't help at the floor.]

I hunt the worst, most twisted killers and I've never shot one.

Stabbed a couple.

...Mostly my dad.

But I didn't kill them.

[cactusy]

If you did, it wouldn't make you like him.

[It's delivered flatly and wearily, but it is meant as a reassurance.]

That whole thing about how killing bad guys makes you just as bad as them - it's bull.