[ there are worse truths here for locus to uncover, and -- there is part of wash that considers keeping it to himself. the more analytical part of wash's mind turns the situation in his mind's eye, considers the fractal possibilities and the inherent unpredictability of one very volatile man being made to face an unpleasant reality he's managed to ignore for most of his life. keeping that one key fragment of information could be useful to him. there might be a good time, a better way to use it. ths one part of the truth is enough for damage control, right now, and everything else.
he knows, deep down, that locus does deserve to know, that it wouldn't be right to keep it from him. it would be best to simply lay it all out for him here and now. the more noble thing to do.
wash won't do that.
the silence before locus' next reply is long. wash just waits, patient. sombra and south are chattering in the background of his comms, and he keeps a careful eye on the information sombra is sending him. focus. he has an objective, to contain the problem, and everything else ( the messy reality of this, how much he'd pushed inside the twisting feeling in his own chest and lungs when he realized the apartment was well and truly empty, the memories that flicker crystal clear in and out of his vision of his fingers pressing bruises into skin ) can and will wait.
finally, locus' response blips up on the screen. wash doesn't hesitate at all in his reply. ]
Doesn't matter what you believe.
[ he'll wait. he has a clear direction right now: stall and keep him in place and figuratively disarmed enough for natasha to be able to do the rest. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
he knows, deep down, that locus does deserve to know, that it wouldn't be right to keep it from him. it would be best to simply lay it all out for him here and now. the more noble thing to do.
wash won't do that.
the silence before locus' next reply is long. wash just waits, patient. sombra and south are chattering in the background of his comms, and he keeps a careful eye on the information sombra is sending him. focus. he has an objective, to contain the problem, and everything else ( the messy reality of this, how much he'd pushed inside the twisting feeling in his own chest and lungs when he realized the apartment was well and truly empty, the memories that flicker crystal clear in and out of his vision of his fingers pressing bruises into skin ) can and will wait.
finally, locus' response blips up on the screen. wash doesn't hesitate at all in his reply. ]
Doesn't matter what you believe.
[ he'll wait. he has a clear direction right now: stall and keep him in place and figuratively disarmed enough for natasha to be able to do the rest. ]