Nobody Does It Better

Maaldorian Prison Blues

"Then what?" she asked.

Winn pondered how bluntly to put it. "I may have... obfuscated on the subject of how extensive my training has actually been."

Lena raised an unsurprised eyebrow.

"I don't want this to come as a shock to you, Agent Schott, but your throwing arm kind of gave that away. You've done a minimum amount of marksmanship, though, right?"

Winn sat there, not knowing how not to look guilty.

"You have, right?" she asked, half-knowing she had already answered her own question.

Winn took a breath, then fumbled his way into it: "Well, I think, in between when I loaded the bullets in, and when I took my gun out of the holster, you've actually had a full demonstration of all my firearms training-"

Lena dropped herself onto the cot, bracing herself against the blanket that was passing itself off as a mattress.

"Okaaaay," she said, calming herself, "I guess we're waiting, then."

Winn didn't know what to say, and shifted uneasily underneath the blanket.

"Sorry. I'm not much more than a glorified IT help-desk, really," he said. When Lena didn't respond, he added, "I used to get really good scores on Duck Hunt, if that helps."

Lena still wasn't looking at him, but broke the silence, quietly saying, "Well, if they an old CRT laying around, then perhaps you could play for our freedom."

They sat in silence, and waited. The light, grinding sound of the Snare-beast's mandibles filled the void.

"So, why Bond?"

Lena looked at Winn like he'd sprouted a second head. "What?" she asked.

"Why d'you like James Bond so much?" Winn repeated.

"You're really asking me this?" she asked, incredulous.

"We've got time," he responded.

"It's a fairly well known film franchise, Winn, I didn't know I needed a reason," Lena said, astonished she was even having the conversation.

"I'm not trying to, you know, gate-keep you or anything, it's just that... he's very... I don't know how to phrase this-" Winn said, reaching for the idea that was right at the front of his mind.

"He's a chauvinist pig?"

"Yes; And, I don't know... that seems like something you'd have an opinion on. So... what is it?" Winn asked, laughing at his own impending joke before adding, "Are you just crying out for supervillain representation?"

Lena didn't roll her eyes, but may as well have; "Don't joke about that," she said.

"Hey, I'm allowed, remember?" he replied, in a defensive monotone, "I mean, I know my Dad's isn't pushing anywhere near Lex or Lillian's numbers, but, you know, he's got a theme, and I think that counts for a lot-"

"No, you idiot, it's just NOT FUNNY."

Winn couldn't tell if she'd raised her voice; but from the way she was staring at him, it felt like she had.

"You have no idea what it's like. Everyone I meet, everyone I will EVER meet will have this preconception of who I am, because of who they know my family to be. And if I'm not like them, then I'm going to become them, because the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, right? Or... I must have known what they were? And if I did, when did I know, and why didn't I warn anyone; and if I didn't warn anyone, doesn't that make me an accomplice?"