dappered | (no subject)

[ so the problem with having ashley back with them is not, as luis been half-expecting, a slower pace or a more cautious approach or the incredibly obnoxious kidnapping attempts; it's the fact that leon's lost his goddamned mind.

there's one of those blue lanterns burning on the wall, and both the thick wooden doors and the windows are reinforced with wrought iron. this part of the castle has been quiet and this particular room-- some kind of library, populated with plush couches and antique tables-- seems undisturbed. it's warm and dry and more defensible than that ramshackle cabin had been, at least, and ashley had been stumbling over her own feet after the suppressant dose. she needed the rest. they all needed a break.

and yet while ashley is dead asleep on one of the couches and luis is sprawled over another, arm flung over his eyes to block out the flickering light, he can hear leon pacing like a caged animal, prowling the perimeter as if there might be an assault any second.

leon had, like an insane person, refused another dose of the suppressant. luis was only carrying a handful of vials and leon had declared that they were all earmarked for ashley, now, despite the very real possibility that he might fucking collapse or get mind-whammied at any minute, which would obviously be very helpful in the next firefight. luis certainly couldn't carry his unconscious deadweight ass and fight off a legion of cultists at the same time, and had said so in no uncertain times, but leon didn't want to hear it.

mr. hotshot secret agent had apparently decided that he was going to power through the next stage of hell like a machine. he refused to let luis take a shift on watch. he refused to sit his ass down and eat something, or do anything but the most cursory first aid on the various small injuries he was sporting now. in the last couple hours he'd inexplicably switched over to a lot more close quarters combat with his knife or fists, instead of letting bullets clear a path.

ashley's presence had thrown some kind of pissed-off guard dog switch, and now it was back to flat unblinking stares and terse orders and ignoring anything luis might have to say, or arguing just for the sake of arguing. whatever tentative thaw they'd had between them earlier seemed to have disappeared, and now luis couldn't open his mouth without getting a Look.

not that luis hadn't already known exactly where he stood priority-wise compared to ashley and The Mission etc, but it was still rubbing salt into the wound.

leon is still pacing, probably chafing at the delay, and luis can't help hissing at him in irritation. ]

Sancho, can you not.

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( inexplicable his ass. it is very explicable, it is just Leon doesn't feel inclined to point out what should be obvious. this place is crawling with cultists, and while they're no more armored than the villagers, they're certainly more armed. catching a medieval mace to the side isn't much better through a bulletproof vest. there's three of them instead of two, the less attention they draw, the better. especially with the loud priest looking assholes in red that can make the plagas wake up and tap dance in every other room. silently taking out as many as possible improves their odds by a mile than going in loud.

it is hard enough to run and gun for two. three's a crowd and getting them all out of here alive and breathing will require concentrated effort. an unfortunate consequence of gaining a social link with Leon is that deciding he likes someone makes him more ferociously protective. which doesn't leave a lot of room for being warm and approachable. the tentative thaw is back on ice, for the sake of everyone living to see the sunrise.

speaking of sunrise. is it sunrise yet? Ashley needs to rest, Leon is not unaware. the parasite has been in her longer, and it is hitting her harder. but he can't fathom how she can get any sleep at all, when the dark seems to make the plaga more active. he can't tell if it he genuinely feels squirming in his veins, or the parasite is just playing his nerve endings like a grand piano. either way, his skin is crawling and his head is too preoccupied to even contemplate sleep.

he's tried contacting Hunnigan at least three times, checked and loaded weapons he hasn't been using anyway (just in case), cleaned his knife and smacked some liquid bandaid on the worst of his wounds. at this point he's running out of things to keep him busy. if he stays too still, the movement of the parasite feels too obvious. so move he must. it would be against protocol to leave Luis here with Ashley to scope out more of the castle but at least it would be something to —

oh, nevermind. there's something to do. not quite as productive as cutting a bloody swath through the west wing, but if Luis wants to idle in front of his crosshairs, why wouldn't he take the shot? ) You never told me you moonlighted as a hall monitor. Where's the little sash? ( Leon isn't loud, because Ashley isn't that far away, and doesn't seem to be sleeping very deeply. he doesn't have to be loud to be a little bitch, it's a talent of his. )

[ it's not rocket science to assume that leon has to be feeling some significant symptoms by this point-- luis had been there for the infection event, after all-- but leon is partly, unfortunately correct that they need to spend the suppressant doses wisely. it's nothing so simple as take one every hour; rate of progression and accompanying symptoms can vary for different hosts.

he'd been hoping (stupidly) that leon would eventually give in and ask for his medicine so they could stop squabbling about it like children, but the Real Answer here is that it's not leon's responsibility to make the right choice. leon doesn't know what to look for or how to estimate the dosage or the schedule; that's all on luis. he's the one who should be acting like a goddamned responsible doctor/authority figure for once in his life, starting with ordering leon to take his shirt off to get a better look at the damage.

of course, he can also picture leon's exact expression if luis asked him to strip down. any possible illusion of respectable science expert guy presumably went out the window the moment leon found out about umbrella. or earlier.

at this rate, luis and ashley are going to have to sit on him or try to stealth inject him, either of which will be a fun and exciting breach of trust.

luis also keeps his voice down, but gives up the pretense that he's going to be getting any sleep and drops his arm to sit up and bitch back. ]

The point of stopping here is to rest and recover. Which of those things are you doing right now?

( rude, to not take his petty bait. they could be hissing about little sashes right now and instead Luis took the long way around. asking serious questions, and not enabling a hissed squabble. the hissed squabble would have been somewhat satisfying, if only because misery loves company. misery doesn't love explaining itself. or seeing reason, when it is easier to be on edge and aggravated. Leon looks a bit like a bull in a china shop, if that bull has some self awareness and knows it shouldn't go on a rampage, and is still contemplating it anyway. realistically, he can guess he is this on edge because of something going on internally. he just doesn't want to admit it. chances seem good admitting it will just make things worse.

he does not stop moving, rolling his shoulders and neck as he wears a track in the carpet. ) Can't sleep. ( his tone is more belligerent than placating. he's too wired to bother trying. besides that, if he sleeps, who is on the lookout? Ashley can't and even if, perhaps, Leon has decided Luis is his Responsibility now, that does not mean he trusts the Spaniard as far as he can throw him. letting his guard down doesn't seem wise, and he viscerally feels a parasite that may or may not be wriggling inside him, so it isn't like he'd get a solid REM cycle in anyway. )

If you're that worried about rest and recovery, how about you give it a shot. ( this is mostly a "no, you". the idea of both Ashley and Luis being asleep as he is this close to crawling out of his skin would be nothing short of excruciating. but Luis lounging around and watching him too closely and being superior about his ability to be relaxed in an active hot zone isn't helping either, so may as well neg the guy to sleep. better than yielding enough to ask if there is any kind of relief to the plagas making him stir crazy, beyond the suppressants that he is determined to save for Ashley. )

[ to be fair his first instinctual response was going to be some sass about detention and spanking, but luis knows a gold-plated invitation to a diversionary slap fight when he sees one. they'd been forced to stop sniping at each other earlier when ashley started to look concerned and asked, reasonably, what the fuck was up; easier for both of them to look in opposite directions and grumble rather than offer explanations.

what's to explain? everybody's stressed out. it's a stressful time. 0/10 would not recommend. luis is not only physically heading away from his escape goal, he's being dragged ever closer to the prospect of field surgery using only a combat knife and a ballpoint pen, probably while his patient holds a gun to his head ~just so the umbrella mad scientist can't try anything~. even with the silent treatment, leon might as well be screaming about liabilities, about untrained civilians interfering. he hasn't stopped moving at all; luis feels exhausted just watching him jitter out of his skin.

of course, it's not paranoia if they're really out to get you. they aren't safe here, and obviously leon is going to say he can't sleep: he can't trust luis to stand watch for him.

so they'll just both be awake and irritated. ]

I had a nice long nap in that bodybag before you found me. [ an indeterminate amount of time spent unconscious counts, right? ] And I can hardly sleep with you figeting all over the place. At least sit down--

[ "--you're no good to ashley exhausted?" no. "--please?" no. "--you're acting like a hypervigilant pit bull and it's giving me The Anxiety?" no. "--I know it's terrifying but pretending that your body isn't compromised won't make it go away?" hell no. ]