yellowthirteen | The Ninth Sortie (Action, Voice)

[Thirteen awoke early in the morning, as usual. He's still got that streak in him, and he got ready as though it was any other day. On his way to the living room, he passed by Goroh's bedroom, his door ajar. Unusual, considering they usually kept it closed to discourage Tao from getting inside. He knew Goroh wasn't around because of his kidnapping, but he figured maybe the racer had returned, so he quietly knocked and opened the door.

The room was empty. All of Goroh's belongings by now long gone, the room bare, as though no one had ever been there at all. ...Except, for that one thing painted on the wall. An arrow?

Thirteen walked over to it, and looked it over. Pointing down. He kneeled to the floor, and quickly noticed the loose floorboard at his feet. Prying it up a little bit, he discovered an envelope, presumably full of letters. Leave it to Goroh to figure out how to cheat the system. He of all people would be the one. The pilot quickly retrieved the envelope and opened it, finding several folded letters inside, each taped shut. One of them was addressed to him, so he opened it and read it over.

A mix of melancholy and amusement found its way into his voice as he chuckled lightly at the samurai's message. Still Goroh, even when he was gone. He was going to miss his friend, and knowing he'd probably never see him again hurt quite a bit, but... at least Goroh had a life, and a happy one at that, to go back to. He knew Goroh didn't really care for it here, so he got exactly what he wanted. Of all the ways for David to lose a friend, this was probably the best one he could hope for.

...Of course, this meant breaking the news to everyone else. That would be the hard part.

So... he'd start with Litchi. That was going to be the hardest one. And then he'd go around delivering Goroh's letters by hand to the people who they were addressed to. Dr. McCoy was hopefully at the medical center, and Buffy would hopefully be at the bar.

...And after that, he'd announce it over the journal system. For whoever else might care.

[Voice]

To anyone who was acquainted with Samurai Goroh, he's been sent back to his own world. ...That is all.

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How--uhm--accommodating. [She sounds quietly grateful, really.] Shortly after eight? I'll try to be as on time as possible.

I understand. I'll be around.

[At a quarter after eight, there is a knock on the door.]

[And he'll be the one to answer the door, giving as much of a smile as he's able to muster.]

Buffy. Good to see you. Please, come in.

Don't mind if I do. [Her smile is also rather subdued. Polite window dressing. Losing someone--even someone as by times stressful to know as Goroh--is always tough in this place. The trick came in focusing on how much better it should be to be home.

She steps inside.] I was gonna bring something over--y'know, like cookies? But then I remembered that bringing food to a house in a situation like this smacked way too much of funeral. So I ditched that idea pretty fast.

[Thirteen actually chuckles at that remark.]

And the last thing he would want us to do was think he was dead. Still, the thought's appreciated.

[He moves over to a table and picks up Buffy's still sealed note and holds it out to her.]

This is what he left behind. ...Remember who it's from when you read it though. If it's anything like the other ones I've delivered today, it'll be typical Goroh.

I'll be sorely disappointed if he doesn't get his jerk on about how much of a single mom he's left me to be. [She takes the letter, clarifying casually:] I mean...with the fight school and him totally ditching me on it.

[She takes her time opening the thing.]

Edited 2010-11-06 06:45 (UTC)

...Oh, that. Yeah, he talked a little about that. ...I'm just glad it's not what it first sounded like.

Believe me, so am I. Not that...that would ever be possible.

[She tugs the letter out, looking over it once (quickly) and a second time (at length).] That rat bastard. [...With a slight smile.] If he thinks I'd change the name he is so sadly mistaken.

For the fight school, huh? Heh. I'm not surprised.

[She chews for a moment on the side of her finger--looking thoughtful. She doesn't know about running the thing on her own. Plans, safety nets, concerns just whip through her mind as she stares at the writing. After about sixty seconds of this, she looks resignedly back up at Goroh's ex-housemate.]

So, I hear you're super attached to the tv?

Did Goroh offer it to you before he left, or something?

He knew it was near and dear to my heart.

[He cracks something of a smile, and sounds bemused.]

I could tell with Goroh, but are you screwing with me?

I don't screw with people I barely know. [...Pause, plus an embarrassed smirk and a small shake of her head.] Okay, wait. That came out a world of wrong. Do over?

[She slowly (but crisply!) folds the letter back up.] I'm pretty sure me begging for just a look at his fancy-schmancy tv was the first time we actually weren't verbally throttling each other.

[There's a more genuine smile.]

I see. Well, then. Guess he wasn't messing with me in my letter. He told me to bring the entertainment center to you at the same time I gave you the letter. ...I figured he might've just been pulling one of his practical jokes to get me to move this massive thing across the village for no reason.

Oh! God--don't worry about it. [This five-foot-two woman waves a slightly dismissive hand.] I can totally handle it. I might have to make two trips, if that's cool with you? My arms are only so wide.

[...What.]

...Are you sure you don't need a hand with it? Moving it's not a big deal as long as I knew it wasn't a joke.

Well, it would cut down on the multiple trips--but, you know? No matter what Goroh said I wasn't just part of the combat school because my super cute looks and my charming way with people.

That would make sense. And I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Appearances mean little in a place like this, after all.

For all I know you could actually me a medieval tax collector.

I distinctly do not own a morningstar or a sufficently painful blunt object for that line of work.

No, I'm just a fighter pilot without his wings.

[Seriously suppressing a I can see your wings right there quip.] Morningstars are alright. But I totally prefer a good battle axe. It can be blunt or sharp.

[After delivering this cheery slice of middle aged weapons advice, Buffy shrugs.] Fighter pilot, though? That's pretty cool. [Then 'cause it has to be asked:] Are we talking an Earthly fighter pilot?

I'm not from Earth, but from everything I've researched... my world is similiar in techology, even in available fighter aircraft.

I fly for the Federal Erusian Air Force. I command the 156th Tactical Fighter Wing. We're best known as Yellow Squadron.