[ Alayne quickly falls into watchful silence, her blue eyes moving slowly back and forth between Chuck's gaze and Isaac's hands — the two points of contact that intrigue her most. If there was a secret to Ranger Hansen's suit, she has no doubt that he will discover it. By what magical alchemy of touch and inquisitiveness, Alayne could not rightly say, but she thinks if she watches hard enough maybe she'll learn. (He had taught her how to remove the plates of his own suit, how to find the latches with her fingers and how best not to get her skin caught in the catches. It had been a tedious process but one that, with time, she'd taught herself to master.
Chuck's suit, Alayne assumes, should prove no different.
Chuck should prove no different.)
The wariness that she'd been met with upon their first meeting is there couched in his gaze as the two men exchange back and forth about the armor. It's been so long since Alayne first crossed paths with the engineer that she no longer remembers what he had been like as a stranger — if he'd warranted suspicion at all beyond the usual tentativeness Alayne gave all strangers. Perhaps if she were left standing in a room with two people she barely knew, one of which poked and prodded at her, the other of which stared, she would feel just as wary.
(But she'd be better at pretending she didn't.)
At the word rachet, Alayne looks at Isaac to follow where precisely his gaze lands amongst the tools. When it finally rests on one, she moves to pick it up, the weight of it heavy in her hands as she holds it like a nurse awaiting a doctor's orders. ]
[ isaac has taken the time to reign himself in. it's part of what leaves him quiet, not quite as anxious as he might have been months ago. maybe it's alayne. maybe it's the fact that he's too engrossed in a new set of armor (spartan wear gets old and fast). he hears alayne before he even has to acknowledge the tool and when he turns, there's a slight smile on the corner of his mouth.
that's my girl is the sort of thing he'd say, but he keeps it to himself as he turns his eyes back to the situation at hand. ]
So we'll work... out from here...
[ he moves a bit more quickly now, finding bolts, remembering what seems to latch onto where (try that after, this will come before, that goes off later--it'll jam, don't want to bust it). he touches each one carefully--one, two... and so on before holding out his hand to alayne with a nod. this is the part that will be the most trying. the back is always delicate. whatever this piece is supposed to do, it's fastened in tightly and nestled securely into the suit. he sounds far off when he speaks again. ]
Anything I need to know about this piece?
[ spinal equipment is... fragile and even that doesn't quite cover it. so he hefts the ratchet a bit more carefully in his hand and applies it to the top bolt first.
he doesn't turn it just yet, instead nodding alayne over close. extra hands at a moment's notice. he holds the position. ]
[ there isn't anything to separate the spine from the circuitry beneath, which is the point of the damn suit to begin with- to make him part of the jaeger. to make sure they feel everything, together. it's possible that if something goes wrong, pulls when it needs to push, well. it sure as hell won't be comfortable.
this isn't actually something chuck decides to tell him, and maybe that can be called trust. he doesn't have a world of options either way, and the last time he'd done this song and dance, it sure as hell hadn't been an engineer pulling him apart. that clarke moves are carefully as he does around him does something to loosen the knots that his fists are perpetually curled into. chuck's gaze remains straight ahead, focused on absolutely nothing of note, but holding there like he's been issued a command order. there's significantly less tension in his voice, and it's a sharp contrast to the schooled facade he keeps his expression penned into. ]
It'll go all at once, if ya peel it back easy. There're prongs on each notch, that connect underneath the suit. They'll release once the bolts do.
[ There is nothing left for Alayne to do now except remain quiet and out of the way. The ratchet delivered, she retreats a small distance so as to give Isaac a well enough berth of Chuck as he circuits him. Already she sees his mind working, the expression on his face growing thoughtful and distant. Isaac Clarke was the sort of man who could get lost in things, though sometimes those things were his work and sometimes those things were his nightmares — each having as good of a pull as the other. The gleam of metal and the innards of engines or simply the flat, screaming dark; in the end it made no difference, they were both a part of him now.
She gives her attention first to her guardian only to find it wander back to Ranger Hansen after a while. Eyes straight, attention forward; again, it makes her think of the Master Chief. Pushing herself from the edge of the table where she's situated herself, Alayne walks forward, into Chuck's field of vision and places herself here if only to see whether his gaze will linger (the priority in eyes forward) or if it will go elsewhere (the priority in not looking at her).
When she speaks her voice is politely curious, a question that is less interjection and more another conversation that's meant to run in tandem. ]
[ there's a flicker to his hands, the only signal betrayed as a result of her insertion into his line of sight. clarke isn't the only one who prefers to get lose himself in the moment- in his work. that alayne comes in close, places herself between him and his self-appointed task leaves a tightening in his jaw. corded tension in the notches of his spine that he doesn't soothe so much as suffocate. the wrench starts in at his back. chuck plants his feet and doesn't give an inch beneath the pressure.
(there's a story there, one about a man who doesn't let himself move under the weight of another, but bows into tides)
chuck meets her gaze like he's proving a point (he hasn't decided if that's accurate or not yet) and keeps his silence. turns the question over like he might see something new, find a beginning if not an end. what is it you fight, ranger hansen? where the hell does he start explaining the kaiju. and does he want to. ]
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no subject
Chuck's suit, Alayne assumes, should prove no different.
Chuck should prove no different.)
The wariness that she'd been met with upon their first meeting is there couched in his gaze as the two men exchange back and forth about the armor. It's been so long since Alayne first crossed paths with the engineer that she no longer remembers what he had been like as a stranger — if he'd warranted suspicion at all beyond the usual tentativeness Alayne gave all strangers. Perhaps if she were left standing in a room with two people she barely knew, one of which poked and prodded at her, the other of which stared, she would feel just as wary.
(But she'd be better at pretending she didn't.)
At the word rachet, Alayne looks at Isaac to follow where precisely his gaze lands amongst the tools. When it finally rests on one, she moves to pick it up, the weight of it heavy in her hands as she holds it like a nurse awaiting a doctor's orders. ]
no subject
that's my girl is the sort of thing he'd say, but he keeps it to himself as he turns his eyes back to the situation at hand. ]
So we'll work... out from here...
[ he moves a bit more quickly now, finding bolts, remembering what seems to latch onto where (try that after, this will come before, that goes off later--it'll jam, don't want to bust it). he touches each one carefully--one, two... and so on before holding out his hand to alayne with a nod. this is the part that will be the most trying. the back is always delicate. whatever this piece is supposed to do, it's fastened in tightly and nestled securely into the suit. he sounds far off when he speaks again. ]
Anything I need to know about this piece?
[ spinal equipment is... fragile and even that doesn't quite cover it. so he hefts the ratchet a bit more carefully in his hand and applies it to the top bolt first.
he doesn't turn it just yet, instead nodding alayne over close. extra hands at a moment's notice. he holds the position. ]
'Fore I start.
no subject
[ there isn't anything to separate the spine from the circuitry beneath, which is the point of the damn suit to begin with- to make him part of the jaeger. to make sure they feel everything, together. it's possible that if something goes wrong, pulls when it needs to push, well. it sure as hell won't be comfortable.
this isn't actually something chuck decides to tell him, and maybe that can be called trust. he doesn't have a world of options either way, and the last time he'd done this song and dance, it sure as hell hadn't been an engineer pulling him apart. that clarke moves are carefully as he does around him does something to loosen the knots that his fists are perpetually curled into. chuck's gaze remains straight ahead, focused on absolutely nothing of note, but holding there like he's been issued a command order. there's significantly less tension in his voice, and it's a sharp contrast to the schooled facade he keeps his expression penned into. ]
It'll go all at once, if ya peel it back easy. There're prongs on each notch, that connect underneath the suit. They'll release once the bolts do.
no subject
She gives her attention first to her guardian only to find it wander back to Ranger Hansen after a while. Eyes straight, attention forward; again, it makes her think of the Master Chief. Pushing herself from the edge of the table where she's situated herself, Alayne walks forward, into Chuck's field of vision and places herself here if only to see whether his gaze will linger (the priority in eyes forward) or if it will go elsewhere (the priority in not looking at her).
When she speaks her voice is politely curious, a question that is less interjection and more another conversation that's meant to run in tandem. ]
What is it that you fight, Ranger Hansen?
no subject
(there's a story there, one about a man who doesn't let himself move under the weight of another, but bows into tides)
chuck meets her gaze like he's proving a point (he hasn't decided if that's accurate or not yet) and keeps his silence. turns the question over like he might see something new, find a beginning if not an end. what is it you fight, ranger hansen? where the hell does he start explaining the kaiju. and does he want to. ]
Monsters.
From the ocean.