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John Reese ([personal profile] primary_asset) wrote2016-11-02 08:12 pm
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It's a relief to be back at work, so to speak.

It's true he and Finch don't have a team put together quite yet and it's true there's still a good deal of work to do at the warehouse, they'll hardly be running missions by the weekend, but at the same time he knows it's coming. The work he's doing now is mostly busy work, running errands for Finch when he needs them, getting supplies, fetching him his tea when he runs low, making sure Finch actually eats while he works, but it's good work. It's going to lead them to something bigger, so John does it all without question.

Whether or not Finch will be able to rebuild the Machine is something they haven't discussed. John is almost afraid to approach the topic, worried the first words he'll hear out of Finch's mouth are I can't. He'd never imagined he would grow to think of the Machine as he does, as a sentient helper, something -- no, someone -- to be missed as keenly as he misses Carter and Shaw, but here he is. And he does miss the Machine.

They'll get there eventually. For now, he does what Finch asks of him.

Today he's out picking up cell phones. It's an easy enough purchase, but in order to make sure no one detects any patterns to their purchases, John visits different suppliers, buying only one phone from each, using only cash. That's his plan, anyway, but after the second stop he spots a familiar face.

"Damen," he says. "It's good to see you."

He's worried about him and Laurent both in the aftermath of what had happened. John has been an operative for a long time, he knows he can deal with the guilt he feels over having hurt someone with Dutch's face, but he's worried about them, about how they're dealing with it.
princekiller: (dumbface)

[personal profile] princekiller 2016-11-17 12:40 am (UTC)(link)
Damen listened carefully, fully aware that this was information he would need to know. He wondered if the same rules applied for carrying a sword, though he had yet to see a single person bearing said weapons in public. At least outside that one Halloween day where, as Damen had come to understand, they were nothing more than accessories to costumes.

'You don't strike me as a man particularly interested in legality,' Damen remarked with a small bit of amusement.

In truth, the idea was slightly unnerving. Damen had lived his life intent on order and rules, firmly adhering to right versus wrong. The man before him was a killer, highly trained, but not a soldier. Still, he had saved Damen's life and Laurent's as well. For that, if nothing else, Damen knew he could be trusted.

'Do I need to acquire my own weapon?'