Arm: I'm taking the day off. Sorry. Good luck with the meeting and the dinner later, because I am not attending it either.
Once Kinn looks at the message, it forces him to do a double take at his phone screen. He can (almost) ignore the fact that Douglas is talking to Porsche.
Almost.
The abrupt text really isn't like Arm. He rarely takes days off, likely because he is the most knowledgeable in all aspects of their security. There was no question on who would be replacing Chan. They asked Arm as soon as he began organizing the reconstruction and clean up. Tankhun had thrown a fit, and Arm initially said no because he thought it meant being removed from Tankhun’s team. It took a lot of incentives and adjustments to get him to agree, including letting him stay on Khun’s security team and becoming the co-head of it with Pol, which admittedly made sense since Arm was now the most seasoned out of Khun's guards and Pol was the most frequently scheduled with him. But Kinn has never seen Arm argue so much prior to that, although emotions were running high. While Arm never said as much, he is sure Pete’s abrupt departure upset him. Pa faking his death and getting so many people hurt or killed probably pissed him off more. Since he respects Arm and they could NOT lose more staff, Arm got pretty much every incentive he asked for. He probably knew he had the upperhand. Kinn is relatively sure Khun strongly encouraged Arm to play his hand that way, although Khun never admitted that. When Kinn mentioned Arm suddenly being a pain about it, Khun just smirked.
Despite all of that, Kinn eventually respected Arm more for the out-of-character stubbornness he showed. But he hasn't experienced a defiant Arm since.
At least until now.
Kinn: This is sort of sudden, considering you left the conference room without a word. Is everything okay?
Arm: My preference is to not lie to you about this, so no. It's not okay. I sent the email file with the security upgrade plans and presentation if you wish to present it anyway.
Kinn: We can reschedule the presentation. The guests will be here all week.
Arm: I will let you know if I feel like I can do it without significant decisions and adjustments being made.
What the fuck? Why is Arm being an asshole right now? Since there is no active discussion going on and people are just socializing, he takes the time to step away to call him instead. He is actually grateful that Tankhun decided Arm and Pol would keep their phones, even if it was technically special treatment. He's probably right. They are in the know about Namphueng, and Arm is the head of security and surveillance. After everything he has done, he deserves his phone.
But Arm sends his call to voicemail.
That. Fucker.
Kinn: This is unprofessional. Call me.
Arm: I am getting your brother out of the compound. That is more important right now. I apologize for the lack of notice. We should be back late tonight. Pol is staying with Nam and Phoenix. If you feel reprimanding me is called for, you can do so when we get back if you are still up. Or you can do it first thing in the morning. Up to you.
Kinn grips his phone tightly in his hand, then lets out a steadying breath. If Pa saw these messages, he would require a punishment. He may say it calmly, or even chuckle about Arm’s sudden audacity, but he would still require it.
He would punish Arm for having his phone without prior authorization too, but Kinn has long decided to let that drop.
The thought of punishing Arm leaves a bad taste in his mouth. He has spent a lot of time with him the last few months, and he is the one who tracked down Kim. Not only does Kinn respect him, but he has also felt like a good and very reliable friend as of late. The anxiety brought on by the thought of spending the day in close proximity to Douglas actually lessened because he knew he would have people he trusted there. Mainly Porsche, but Arm was in second place, since Arm has been a friend. That's what he thought, at least.
So more than anything, he feels hurt.
Kinn: I really don't want to do that. Are you upset with me about something? You are being very short with me, so if you are and want to discuss some things, we can do that tonight or tomorrow. If I did anything to piss you off, I apologize.
Kinn: I can't think of anything recent, but please let me know if I did.
Kinn: Can you let me know what it is?
Arm: I have no issues with you. I am sorry if I came off that way. My sudden absence has nothing to do with you, but I need some time to cool off. It's personal, but I will let you know if I am able to talk about it soon. I need to leave for the day, and I want to work on some things tonight when I get back. I will let you know if we can talk about this in the morning. Sorry again.
Just as Kinn trying to figure out a way to get Arm to call him so he can get a slightly better idea of what's going on, he gets a text from Khun.
Khun: Leave Arm be. Please. It's my fault he's so worked up. He's protective of me. You know that. We are going on a day trip so we can both get our minds off it.
Kinn: Off of what?
Khun: If I say, then I am failing to get my mind off of it, aren't I? 🙄 Arm is trying his best though. He even called Pete to see if he wanted to go on the day trip with us! But Pete is already out of town with Vegas and Macau. 😒 I would be more hurt, but he said he would rather be with us. Some family drama is going on back in Sisaket. He said his grandma was fine, so it is probably his annoying and abusive estranged father getting arrested for assault or drugs. 😡😤 His grandma HATES his father, so she won't help her ex son-in-law when he gets in trouble with the law. If Vegas truly loves Pete as much as his Instagram implies, he should slaughter him for everyone’s sake.
Kinn knows Khun is trying to distract him from the topic at hand. It's glaringly obvious, even if Khun is telling the truth and genuinely wants Vegas to kill Pete’s father. The thing is, it sort of works. Bringing up Vegas tends to distract Kinn from whatever he was talking about. It doesn't distract him in a good way, but it distracts him.
But that frustration is quelled by the relief of seeing emojis in Khun’s text. The first one didn't have any, and that is usually a sign Khun is anxious and not doing well, as strange of a sign that is.
Kinn: Can you please convince Arm to meet with me tomorrow morning?
Khun takes longer to answer than Kinn likes, but he does get back to him.
Khun: We’ll see.
Whatever.
“Is everything okay?” Porsche asks when Kinn walks in. Kinn doesn't nod, shake his head, or provide any peace of mind. He just opens his texts with Arm and hands his phone over to Porsche.
“What has gotten into him?” Porsche asks, “This isn't like him.”
“I was hoping you could tell me. He's your friend.”
Porsche glances at him, “He's becoming yours too. This might be a good sign, at least in some ways. He feels more comfortable being defiant with you.”
“Is defiance something he frequently displays outside of work?”
“Not really,” Porsche says, “But he has a strong sass streak when he's feeling annoyed.”
Kinn huffs at that, “Still shouldn't have left.”
“Oh, come on,” Porsche says quietly, “Maybe something personal happened and he needs some time. It's not the greatest timing, but he's done so much for everyone. I doubt he would just take off without a legitimate reason. Besides, all these men are longtime allies, right? The mutual business connections are beneficial for everyone? There probably isn't a reason to prepare for a significant threat. Right?”
As Kinn looks away and chooses not to answer that, he locks eyes with Douglas. The older man is staring right back at him with a smirk on his face.
They had also held a press conference the day before, attended only by journalists hand-picked by Pepper, where Steve laid out his entire story in what Peter called PG-13 detail, starting with his arrest following he and Tony’s anniversary dinner and ending when he was finally released from the Atlanta hospital to come home. Images that Tony recorded from his HUD along with several documents that Bruce had been able to capture from the prison’s computer systems were also released to a few selected news stations, further corroborating the growing pile of evidence against not only many of the men and women holding high positions in the government and other agencies, but also various news outlets.
It was a start, at least. But Steve knew he wouldn’t be able to truly rest until every last single HYDRA agent had been flushed out from their mole tunnels and arrested.
But unfortunately, at the moment he still needed to figure out a way to get to the bathroom and back without causing a scene.
Slowly, Steve pushed himself up to his feet, using the headboard as leverage as he placed all of his weight on his right foot. The cast on his left foot was massive, and had to weigh at least ten kilograms with how much hardware was poking out of it. The surgeon had explained that he’d been required to use several of what he called medical pins in order to hold Steve’s bones in place while they healed, which were now sticking out of the bright blue plaster in such a way that it made Steve feel sick to his stomach to even look at it. And not to mention the constant prickly feeling he’d had in the foot ever since the surgery from the bones knitting themselves back together. Steve had always hated that tingly, pins-and-needles feeling.
Although apparently not enough to stop breaking his goddamn bones, as Tony would say.
Keeping his right hand flat against the bed, Steve released the headboard and began hopping towards the bathroom, stopping at the end of the bed to balance himself on the footboard. The bathroom was still about ten paces away with nothing more for him to grab onto, but once he was able to get to the doorway he would hopefully be okay.
However, for all of Steve’s meticulous planning, he realised only three hops in that he’d neglected to take into account the soreness in his right hip caused by him trying to compensate for the extra weight on his left foot. He paused in the very centre of the room, already dripping with sweat as he rested just the tip of his left toes against the floor, trying to take just a touch of weight off his right leg, and not even a second later found himself flat on his face, completely stunned, with his entire left side screaming in protest.
“What the—?” Steve heard from the bed as he attempted to roll over, his damaged ribs making him feel every single centimetre of movement. He refused to look as Tony sat up and poked his head over the end of the bed, already bracing himself for the lecture he was about to get.
“Jesus Christ, Steve, what the hell are you doing?” Tony demanded as he knelt down next to him, bleary-eyed and disheveled. He slid his arms underneath Steve’s shoulders, trying to hoist him back up. “You trying to give me a heart attack or something?”
Steve glowered as he looked away, too embarrassed to even meet Tony’s eyes even as his entire left side was now throbbing with every beat of his pounding heart.
“I just—I just needed to pee.”
“Okay. And you didn’t wake me up… why, exactly?”
“I didn’t want to. You were sleeping.”
To his credit Tony did at least make an attempt to hide his eyeroll, although it was not entirely successful. “Ah huh. And how’d that turn out for ya there, hmm?”
“Tony—”
“No, don’t you be ‘Tony-ing’ me right now,” he snapped. “You know damn well that I’d much rather be woken up with a kiss and a soft, ‘hey sweetheart, can you help me hop on over to the bathroom?’ or something like that as opposed to you smacking your face into the floor ‘cause you're too damn stubborn to admit that you need me to help you.”
The full chapter will post on Monday, January 27th 😊
Delly Cartwright has been visiting with Rye daily in his room for the past several days, observed by members of his recovery team through the one-way glass. She and Rye have discussed everything from math teachers to wrestling coaches to Rye’s favorite pair of shoes when he was seven. Three days ago, she was even able to indirectly bring up Peeta, by mentioning the chalk drawings Delly used to draw with Rye’s younger brother on the paving stones next to the back door of the bakery.
The visit the next day started out fine. Delly and Rye chatted some more about home, talking for several minutes about the date Rye took to the Harvest Festival when he was sixteen, a Town girl by the name of Kayla. Things were going well until Delly brought up Peeta again, only this time by name.
It wasn’t her fault; she’d been instructed to do so by Dr. Mullins. But Rye obviously wasn’t ready to hear it. As soon as Peeta’s name crossed Delly’s lips, Rye froze. His limbs strained against the restraints, his eyes dilated until there was nearly none of the blue left, and his blood pressure and heart rates both climbed to dangerous levels. I was there too, watching through the window with the doctors, my heart shattering into little tiny pieces as Rye screamed and shouted and spewed curses about my husband.
I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to block out the sound of Rye screaming, calling Peeta, his own brother, a filthy, stinking mutt that deserves to die.
“Charge,” she said, and lowered her sword as if she commanded an army entire instead of six Noldor. Perhaps her mother’s people could be considered an army entire anyway. She certainly felt as if they were, charging at their head as they leapt over the dwarves’ heads.
For a brief moment, airborne and about to crash into a horde of orcs holding a great many sharp weapons, she felt as she had with Smaug. It was terrible, leading a charge, but it was beautiful too – Orvaie and the rest followed her without question, and Delu gleamed, and Morwinyon thought for that moment that perhaps she understood her mother and why Laeriel would have chosen war.
They all turned to look at Bofur and then to where he pointed, where Morwinyon had joined Dain’s battle lines. Fili gripped the battlements with both hands and strained to keep an eye on her: what if Dain didn’t know what her braids meant? The worry was silly, he knew, but still. Kili gripped his shoulder and watched too.
“She needs a helmet,” Gloin complained. “What good will she do with her head caved in?”
“She needs more armor all over,” Nori said. “Whose idea was it to send her back without armor? Shameful showing, for one of the house of Durin.”
“Where’d she get the sword?”
Bifur made a few disparaging sounds, but they seemed directed at the complaining dwarves, who quieted. He signed, brave girl.
“Yes,” Balin said.
“I suppose so,” Gloin muttered grudgingly, but he clapped Fili on the shoulder that Kili didn’t already have a death grip on. “Could’ve done worse.”
“The elves?” Thorin replied, the edge in his voice wedging under Fili’s armor and sticking. “You would know that best, sister’s son.”
“Our kin, mother’s brother,” Fili retorted. “While we bicker, they die.”
“They die for their home,” Thorin said.
Fili waited for more, maybe a rousing speech about how they would too, or how they the company would make it so fewer had to die. Thorin gave him nothing.
“Uncle?” Kili asked. Thorin turned away, cloak whispering behind him as he left the battlements altogether.
