Too Guilty

Crocodiles? Garret quirked an eyebrow. That was an interesting line of work. Not to mention dangerous. He believed Thirteen didn't like it - that had to be somewhat unnerving. 

Her question made him fall silent and he stirred his shake for a few moments. "Yeah, it's great." He paused, staring at the cold treat. "Not really." He paused again before looking back up at her. "No, I don't like it much," he admitted. He leaned his arms on the counter before taking another sip and shrugging. "It's not that I don't like their cause. If anybody wants to smash the Agency to smithereens, it's me, but... I dunno." 

He was still a fish out of water. An outsider. A stranger. Someone they feared. He was slowly gaining trust. Slowly gaining ground and being allowed to actually do some things, but... it was still a far cry from what he'd been used to. The status he'd held. The ability to do just about anything he wanted. Now he was just... an extra element most of the agents didn't want to deal with. 

"It's gonna take a while for anybody to actually trust me," he concluded. "At least Nate does, and I think Reese is starting to but... I'm not sure I'll ever really have a place there. Nowhere else to go though." Looking at Thirteen, he suddenly realized what they had in common. They'd both been property of the Agency almost their entire lives, and both struggled to fit into a "normal" life. The Agency specialized in ruining lives...and they were good at it.

"What about you?" He turned it back around again before he could think too much about himself. "Got your own place?"


Wyatt toyed with Aerith's fingers and shrugged. "I dunno. A new location isn't gonna fix what's really wrong - and that's been brought on by the FBI. There's a stench of distrust in the ranks now, and it's just getting worse. Kirk, Adison and Sam don't belong there, and yet one word from them to the FBI and we'd be shut down." 

As he spoke, his voice became more irritated. "They ought to just get rid of the Elite and be done for good. They'd be happy and we'd be free." It sounded horrible when he said it out loud, but maybe it proved just how stressed he actually felt. He withdrew his hand and leaned back in his seat to fold his arms and stare at the table. "I've considered resigning..." His voice had grown quieter. "But I feel too guilty to do that to my dad."


Jett's face was quite red by now, both from laughing and from embarrassment. With Destiny's help, he was finally able to pull himself up onto the couch where he cradled his sore arm gingerly. "Yeah... I think I'm okay." He glanced at his glass which only had a very small amount of soda left in it. "I can't say the same for the rootbeer." 

Zan knelt on the floor to mop up the liquid with the paper towels. "Eh. She brought a whole bottle. As long as you don't intend on pouring it all over the floor, we should be good."

Jett choked on another laugh. "Ow... stop it," he complained, now holding his side. He glanced up at Destiny and bit his lip. "You're my hero." 

"Oh now you're just being sappy," Zan chided. 

"I can't help it." Jett sank back into the cushions, really feeling quite unwell and sore, but also unable to help his little grin. "She's the best thing you ever brought home." 

Zan chuckled. "Now that... I have to agree with." He stood back up and sighed. "Decide on a movie from a distance?"

"Well... I was going for the Princes Bride."

Zan had to grin. "That's about as good a pick as any. I hope you're hungry, by the way... chips and dip and candy and... yeah. Lots of snacks."

Jett's eyes widened. "Well bring it in here - what are you waiting for?"

"Um... for your mess to be cleaned up?"

"Oh."

Zan rolled his eyes. "Just sit tight, okay? We'll bring the food."