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“Th’ hell’re you doing here,” Gamma snarled without looking up. Her grip only tightened on the bottle, stubbornly pressing it into the chipped coffee table as if it might try to run away.
The apartment door behind her shut so quietly it was a wonder she could even hear it – but even like this, slurring her words and with eyes half-lidded, she was well aware of her surroundings. That was all well and good for him; Sen silently laid his jacket over the back of the couch, and sat down. The octoling rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together, sighing into them as he settled across from her.
“You called me,” Sen said. He tilted his head in the direction of her phone, face-up on the table and still ticking up the time of an active call.
“Like hell,” Gamma snipped, missing twice before finally ending the call. “Didn’t fuckin’ call you.”
Sen watched her for a long moment, as she seemed to doze into the crook of her elbow. When she was at least pretty sure he wasn’t looking anymore, she lifted her head and started for the bottle again. Before she could tilt it to her lips, Sen closed his hand around the neck of the bottle.
Gamma glared at him. “Gimme.”
“No,” Sen didn’t relent, giving no room for argument as he pried her fingers off the glass. “You’re done.”
“Fuck off,” Gamma groaned, swatting uselessly at his hand as he took the bottle from her and held it loosely in one hand resting on his knee. “Eight, give it.”
“You have had enough,” Sen insisted, leaning into her personal space. He didn’t flinch when she hissed at him, only softened his expression slightly. “You were crying.”
“Oh,” Gamma put her hand on his forehead and pushed. She let it fall over the coffee table as he backed off. “Fuck you . Didn’t call you, don’t need you, get outta my apartment.”
Sen said nothing, only frowned. Gamma seemed to be toeing the line of too far gone if she was willing to put her hands on him in any capacity. He shut his eyes for a second, trying to chase off the revulsion that made his skin crawl and his mouth water. When he had a handle on himself again, Sen rose to his feet.
“I will not,” he said nonchalantly, crossing the studio apartment to the kitchen sink. He dumped the contents of the bottle down the drain and left the glass discarded in the sink. She must have torn through a few of these, based on the trash can haphazardly pulled from its usual place. “Gamma, how much have you had to drink?”
“Huh?” Gamma lifted her head fully, glaring at him. Her right eye squinted a little more than her left, courtesy of the discolored scar. “Not ‘nough.”
Sen slid the trash can back into its place.
“More than,” he countered, beginning to rifle through cabinets. There was no scent of food lingering in the air and no dirty dishes; he could guess that Gamma had not eaten anything. That being said…there wasn’t much in her cabinets to begin with that wouldn’t take an entire evening to prepare.
“Get out,” Gamma pushed herself to her feet, shuffling into the kitchen space after him. “Told you to leave me ‘lone.”
Sen refused to glorify her with a response, focusing instead on opening a can of soup into a plastic bowl. He had just popped it into the microwave and started it when he felt ice coil down his back.
Gamma had gotten to him a lot quicker than he gave her credit for. Even somewhat incapacitated like this, she was still very capable and he’d made a bad move by turning his back to her. Her hands were balled into fists at the back of his shirt. The contact made his head spin. Sen pressed the heels of his palms into the counter to try and ground himself, but if she didn’t let go –
“Eight,” Gamma let go with one hand and pulled at his shirt with the other. “What’re you really doin’ here.”
Sen turned, reaching with one hand to pull her off. She let go before he got to her; all well and good to him. “You called me,” he told her firmly. “So I came to check on you.”
“Gonna be honest,” Gamma backed up, finding a counter to lean her shoulder into as she slid to the floor. “Didn’t think you gave a shit like that. Kinda expected you to take off a long uh…long time ago. After the thing.”
The thing being the reason he was here in the first place; the Metro and its associated horrors, which clung to the back of his mind like a tumor he’d never quite be rid of. Judging by the thin veneer of teal that came away when she wiped at her cheek, she’d been thinking about it a little too much. The question remained on Sen’s tongue, but unspoken.
Which came first, the spiraling thoughts or the alcohol? Maybe that didn’t matter.
The microwave chimed dutifully, and Sen pulled the warm bowl out to set on the counter. Too hot, and if he handed it off to Gamma she’d end up hurting herself without thinking. Soup would have to wait.
“We’ve talked about this,” Sen said after a while, trying to keep his voice light. “I still owe you a debt. I’ll stay until then.”
“Don’t understand you.” Gamma groaned, drawing her knees under her chin and hugging herself. “Stupid oc- octo- ugh. Stupid you and your debt shit. Thought you already repaid me for that.”
Sen said nothing. Truth be told, he didn’t understand her either. He’d never seen her like this, and filed it away mentally to unpack later. But by and large, he knew very little about her. Normally, she was…stony. Stoic, mostly guarded – she was undeniably skilled and her reputation as described by their fellow agents was nothing to sneeze at. But he’d also seen glimpses of someone outside of Gamma’s reserved demeanor: someone who was enthusiastic, who laughed aloud when in the right company, who was vastly competitive.
But she wasn’t like that with him and so he reasoned that he could live without knowing that part of her. It wasn’t his to know. Apparently this was, though.
Her call had come shortly before he had been planning to sleep. Sen had picked up the phone and answered in his usual way, but she’d not responded and he strained with his phone at full volume just to catch the sound of shattering glass and a muffled whimper. He’d stayed on the line while leaving his shared space with Delta and answered no questions. The reminder came abruptly. “You broke a bottle.”
“Huh?” Gamma squinted at him, digging the heel of her palm into her right eye as she leaned on it. “Cleaned it up already.”
Sen scanned the room with a quick glance; there wasn’t any glass that he could see. He’d have to accept her words as truth. Even drunk and looking pretty damn pitiful, she was still capable; her rapid approach and the sense to let him go before he lost his grip proved that. He reached up for the bowl, scooting forward to offer it to her. Gamma turned away.
“Eat,” Sen insisted, pushing a spoon into her hand and setting the bowl in front of her. “I will not leave until you do.”
Gamma adjusted her grip on the spoon a few times, seeming to think that over. Then she tossed, with absolutely zero accuracy, the spoon in the rough direction of the sink. It clattered against the counter, slid into the sink basin, and probably lodged itself in the drain. Problem for later.
“I finish this and you leave me alone?” Gamma said, watching him like a feral animal. “Didn’t want you here in the first place.”
Sen found some humor in that, chuckling dryly. “Yes.”
“Evil octarian,” Gamma hissed, taking the bowl in both hands and sinking deeper into her curled sitting position against the counter. Sen feigned hurt, watching her closely.
“Dumb squid,” he countered, voice as light as he could manage.
Gamma watched him over the rim of the bowl as she sipped the thick, noodle-y broth. If it helped, she didn’t show it, but he could guess that she was at least fine with it based on the way she took another long swallow before setting the bowl down.
“Done?” She said, tilting the half-finished bowl in his direction. “Leave.”
Sen shook his head. “Not done.”
Gamma groaned, some half-hearted mumbling about you’re jus’ as bad as M’rie , but finished the bowl. She shoved it at him with no shortage of spite.
“Done .” The inkling stressed, hissing at him. “Go home .”
Sen thought that over. He could let her send him away; go home and sleep in his own bed without the potential for too much physical contact and rise before the sun like he always did. Or, he could stay and keep Gamma from another downwards spiral.
“No.” He gave her no room to protest. “I stay.”
“Evil,” Gamma’s shoulders sagged. “Why.”
The octoling resignedly took the bowl, dumping it in the sink alongside the discarded spoon. Morning problem, he rationalized. He would be up well before her anyways.
“You’ll hurt tomorrow,” he said evenly, ear twitching. He watched her move out of the corner of his eye, making her way back to the couch. At no point did she ever let him out of her sight, and he was fine with that. Neither of them could truly trust the other, even after what they'd been through. She was a lethal killer on her best days, and for all his skill he did not want to be on the wrong end of her wrath when she came around. “You will let me help, Three.”
Gamma winced hard, sinking into the couch. “Fine ,” she bit out.
Sen approached carefully, quietly, and watched her ear only twitch once. He laid his jacket over her, and made no movement to rouse her and take her to bed. Instead, he settled on the floor beside the couch and watched. Undoubtedly the nightmares would come; they always did when she drank like this, and he knew that well.
He would be there when they did.