RvB Oneshots(All Reds, Blues, 10 Freelancers, 2 Mercs)

debriefing(north dakota)

Requester: N/A
Prompt: #25, "Please talk to me about it."
Gender: M/F
Word count: 584

You were brooding quietly on the ship for the entire journey back to home base. Most of the other Freelancers couldn't be bothered to care; it wasn't their problem. A couple gave you confused glances, and some straight-up just glared at you for being petty.

When your team's airship finally landed in the bay on the Mother of Invention, you were the first one off the ship. Your helmet came off, and it took everything within you to not throw it to the side as you stormed off angrily, away from the scene. You barely registered the call of your name, not giving enough of a damn to see who it was.

You make your way back to your room, slipping by crew members and M.O.I staff, avoiding conversations and ignoring the curious stares. You couldn't be bothered to deal with anybody. You had started unlatching your armour locks and setting the pieces up on your stand when the door slid open again. You ignored them.

"Hey," North greeted quietly. His armour clicked quietly as he stepped into your room, the door sliding shut behind him. "What's going on, (S/N)?" You ignore him, continuing on to slip out of your undersuit. You trust him enough to avert his eyes as you get changed, but don't honestly care enough to make sure he does.

"(S/N), the whole ship is in a tizzy because we have no idea what's going on," he tries again. You take a seat at your desk and go through the drawers, pulling out the papers you need to fill out before the debriefing. You listen to his boots hit the ground as he steps over your stuff and sits on your bed, leaning on his knees.

You can see him in your peripherals. His helmet is off, and he's staring at you with concern and curiosity. He wants to help- he always wants to help- but you don't want to lash out at him. He doesn't deserve your anger. He finally gives a quiet sigh.

"Please talk to me about it," he requests gently as your pen scratches angrily across the debriefing forms. You sigh, placing your pen down on the desk.

"It's that damn bitch Carolina," you say finally. "She thinks she's so fucking special, so much better than the rest of us just because she's at the top of that fucking board." You don't look at him, but you can see his eyes soften.

"Well, she kind of is, (S/N). She's #1 on the leaderboard, she's the Director's daughter, and she certainly knows what she's doing on the battlefield," he responds quietly. You start to bristle, almost feeling betrayed by the admiration in his voice. "But, you're right. It would benefit her to take a step down from her pedestal and look at the world from our perspective for a change." You look at him finally, and he smiles.

"There's not a lot that can be done about Carolina. You shouldn't let her get under your skin so easily, (S/N). She'll just use it to her advantage on the floor in training." You know he's right. Suddenly, his eyes light up.

"I know just what to do for your frustration. Come on, I'll meet you in the training room. Hand to hand, no armour. Just you and me." He stands up, holding out a gloved hand. You glance at your debriefing forms... They aren't due until tomorrow, anyway.

You take his hand, grinning up at him.

"You're on, North."