2011 05 31: Fresh Meat

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Mission Name: Fresh Meat
Date of Mission: May 31, 2011
Locale: Training Area, Division HQ

The new recruit interrupts two agents in the middle of a conversation. Hilarity ensues.


Alex Argyle Geoff

Note: This log picks up on a scene-in-progress.

"Know Jezebel. Know the others the same way I know you, from names in a file. I'm mostly holed up in the shop, but I bet I know more folks than most folks." Argyle rolls his shoulders back. He's in workout gear and has just stepped off the mat.

Geoff too is in workout gear, but he's slouching up against a wall. Maybe it's a trick wall that he's holding up with his Atlas-like strength. Or maybe he's slacking on the training. "So how much of my file did you see?" he wants to know. "They just give y'all everything?"

Her hair pulled back into a low ponytail, the new recruit comes trudging out into the training area with a heavy tread, looking just thrilled to be here. Alex has got on the standard recruit-issue gear, which means she's ready to workout. Rolling her shoulders slightly as she makes her way out into the main area, she pauses on the periphery for a moment to look around and get the lay of the land.

"Not everything. Just basic briefing reports. Mostly I'm looking to see who needs help with the things that go chk-chk-boom." Argyle fingerguns. He catches movement out of the corner of his eye. When he spots Alex, he cheerfully calls out, "Fresh meat!"

"Must be why I didn't see much of you," Geoff answers, being that he did not need to spend much time on the firing range as a recruit. His eyes slide toward the door as Argyle identifies a recruit. "They recruiting out of grade school now?" he wonders.

Alex arches an eyebrow as Argyle calls out to her, not quite sure what to make of that… But she begins to saunter over, swinging her arms to help loosen up as she goes. Geoff gets a sidelong look — a look, in fact — but she seems to think better of mouthing off just yet. Someone's already been in hot water a few times in the short while she's been here. "Yeah?" she asks instead, but more in wondering what they want than in answer to Geoff's question.

"Out of high school, into spy school. Fun times." Argyle clucks his tongue. "They let me finish college before they drummed me into service." He sucks back another mouthful from his water bottle and gives Alex the once-over.

Geoff looks back at Alex, but there's something dead in his eyes. By rights, such a comment should be followed up with a sassy smirk or a wink, but it isn't. "And then I bet they asked you real nice, huh, college boy?" The tone that might ordinarily go with those words would be snide, but Geoff's is just kind of…nothing. He looks over at Alex and shrugs. "I don't want you for anything, babydoll," he says. "I'm not the trainer."

"Yeah, well, apparently this is all the education I need," Alex replies, rolling her eyes slightly as she makes a grand gesture to the room around them. She considers Geoff for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. "Too bad. Might have enjoyed trying to hit you," she notes in a flat deadpan. That he's not a trainer has her lowering her guard — or forgetting it.

"You kidding? There's no such thing as asking nice around here." Argyle quirks a grin. "The FBI found me with a garage full of modified weaponry, enough to arm a guerilla strike force. It was join the team here, or get handed over to the Feds." He sets his water bottle down. "You don't enjoy hitting. You don't get mad when you hit. You just hit to get the job done. Otherwise you're in a bar brawl, not doing your job."

"What goes on inside somebody's head is their own goddamn business," Geoff says, though his tone remains cool. He looks over at Alex, lifting an eyebrow. "Well, if you want to hit me, what you want is a sparring partner. I'll give you a chance, if you didn't like something I said."

"Just get the job done," Alex replies with a little sigh, tossing off a salute that is quite possibly a bit sarcastic. "Don't worry. Wouldn't make the mistake of enjoying anything," she continues wryly, with a little smirk. Geoff's offer is considered for a moment before she gives her head a little shake. "Guess I'm just on the defensive around here." Even as she speaks, she glances back over her shoulder as if expecting someone to come up from behind and attack her. "So what were you doing with all those weapons anyway?" she asks, looking back to Argyle.

"If you think anything you do is your own business, then you underestimate who you're working for." Argyle says that with perfect seriousness, rather than the wry humour of his other comments. His eyebrows go up and his smile grows mischevous. "I like guns." Simplistic, but truthful. "You know how some guys modify muscle cars? I modify AK-47s."

"Compensating," Geoff jokes about Argyle, giving a little smile for once. Then the smile's gone and he looks at Argyle seriously. "Not a man in this place can take the way I feel about anything from me. If you think they can, then you underestimate the shit out of me." He shrugs at Alex. "I'll even give you one for free if you want it," he offers, sticking his chin out to see if she wants to hit him.

Alex frowns slightly at Argyle's serious response about Division, but it doesn't exactly shock her. In the few short days she's been here, she's picked up on that much, at least. She considers his comment a moment and then shrugs. "I guess there are worse things to like. Somewhere." Geoff gets a suspicious look, even as she eyes that open spot on his chin. "This some sorta trick or you got some sorta thing about pain?"

"If they're wrong about what they can and can't make you do, then that's your problem, not theirs." Argyle says that in all seriousness. "There's only one way to wash out of here." He juts his chin out towards Alex. "Hey. You got any firearm experience? If you don't, you'll be seeing me sooner or later."

"A masochist's a shitty investment in the spy game, sweetheart," Geoff tells Alex, retracting his chin. "But the offer's off the table now." He smiles at Argyle. "They're not wrong about a damn thing. I'm good at what I do."

"I'll consider it," Alex tells Geoff coolly, like he was inviting her to Friday night's poker game instead of inviting her to punch him in the face. She still seems a little suspicious though. To Argyle, she shrugs. "They think I shot a guy, but… not much experience, no," she replies, affecting an almost bored tone. "So I guess I got that to look forward to."

"You don't get to do things on your own terms here, no matter how good you are at it. Doing things your way is for the independent contractors. Trust me. Six years here and I've seen my share of recruits leave here in bodybags." Might've even put some there himself, but Argyle's not going to make himself out to be the bogeyman. "Not a lecture, not a personal threat, just a public service announcement. Do your job. It helps if you believe in what we do, but it's not relevant if you don't as long as you follow orders."

"All right," Geoff says, shrugging at Alex, but if you hit me now, I'll put you on the mat." No pet names with that, so he must be serious. He stands up straight and turns to face Argyle, shoulders squared. "I do my job. I do exactly what they say, when they say, for as long as they say," he says, fixing Argyle with a dead stare. "What is not anybody's business is how I feel while I'm doing it. If I fuck up, I will be killed. By them, or by the other guys. Nobody is confused about that. But until somebody here has a problem with what I do, until somebody here even sees me put one toe over the line, I don't need any PSAs."

Alex considers Geoff's terms before shrugging again, seeming okay with that threat. From the way she eyes him, the fresh-faced recruit might even think she stands a chance… though she isn't rushing to put it to the test just yet. Instead, she watches the two men interact, her smirk slowly returning. "God, people are so intense around here," she notes to no one in particular. No doubt they'll appreciate some comments from the peanut gallery.

Argyle looks back at Geoff with a surprisingly calm look on his face. It's almost serene. And then he smiles at the end of it. Not a smartass smile or a fake smile - a genuine-looking one. He just slowly shakes his head. "That's the last advice you'll hear from me, soldier." Funny how he makes that sound almost like a threat. Then he stands and scoops up his water bottle and a towel. "Hey, kid," this to Alex, "…see you on the shooting range." And then he's headed for the door.

"Don't call me that," Geoff requests, watching Argyle move for the door, but it's a soft-spoken request even less intense than the dull tone he took to make his monologue with earlier. "My name's Geoff. Bet the recruit could use a little of your help in here, too, unless you have to go," he comments.

"Alex," the recruit finally gives up her name, albeit without much in the way of context. She seems a bit reluctant to do so, like her identity is still somehow her own, but then, it beats being called 'kid', right? Geoff gets an almost curious look at his own lack of desire to be called soldier, but she refrains from comment, just giving a little shrug to Argyle instead. She won't turn down help, but she isn't about to ask for it either.

"Another time. I'm off the clock. Plus I haven't looked over her file. Unless I'm administering a reality check, I'd need to work up a training program. Someone might already be on that." Apparently 'reality check' is what Argyle was doing to the hacker recruit when Geoff came in. Making a recruit see that this isn't a game and that it's gonna be hard damn work. "I'm Argyle by the way. Can call me that, or Marc, or Marcus if you feel like it. Some people call me Socks." Get it? Argyle? Socks? Ha ha. He lifts a hand, then strolls out the door.

Geoff watches Argyle depart. Maybe that cool, confident, all-knowing manner of his got to Geoff after all. Then he looks back to Alex. "Alex, huh?" he asks. "That's a nice name. See? He can make the occasional comment that doesn't make him sound like a son of a bitch. "Where you from, girl?" He's got a Southern accent, himself. But it could all be faked, of course.

After watching Argyle head off with a thoughtful expression, Alex turns back to Geoff. "Only one I got," she notes of her name, giving a shrug to that — though the nicer comment maybe lessens the 'tude he's getting in return a bit. "I'm from here now, I guess. Detroit before that…" She trails off, as though there might be more to that story, but she doesn't feel like getting into it. "You from, like, Texas or something?"

Geoff smiles a little at Alex. His eyes remain untouched by the expression, though. "You've never been to the South, huh?" he guesses. "I'm from South Carolina. Though for the cover I say North. Nobody knows the difference anyway." He looks at her hair. "Is that your natural color?" he asks. Maybe kind of an odd question, but there you have it.

"Nope," Alex replies easily. "All sorta sounds the same to me." She's not terribly apologetic, but then, he doesn't really seem to mind either. "What is the difference, anyway?" she asks, of North and South Carolina. The comment about her hair gets an arched eyebrow, and she actually pulls her ponytail over her shoulder to look at it, like she's just making sure. "Uh, yeah. Unless someone dyed it when I was sleeping or something. Why?"

"It'd be pretty boring to explain," Geoff says. About the difference between North and South Carolina, that is. Then he shrugs about her hair. "I don't know," he says, "I thought it was a nice color. Not too mousey. Good with your complexion." Maybe most people don't get fashion tips from their deadly spy agencies, but Alex is a lucky girl. "How old are you?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Probably why I never learned it," Alex agrees with a shrug, leaving the idea of the Carolinas alone. She considers her hair for one more moment before tossing the ponytail back over her shoulder. "Well… Thanks, I guess. If it's gonna be a color, might as well suit me." She hesitates a moment at the question, that same reluctance that was seen when giving her name, but then with another shrug, she concedes, "Nineteen."

"You can lie to me," Geoff invites, oddly enough, in that same rather dull tone. "If you wanted to say 'eighteen' or 'twenty,' I wouldn't mind even if I found out later. How long you been here?"

"What's the point? Eighteen or twenty isn't gonna change anything," Alex replies a bit dully. "But if you don't care if I lie, why even ask?" She jams her hands into the kangaroo pockets on her hoodie, stretching the material down in front in an idle way. "Long enough to know I don't want to be here but got no choice. How long did that take you?"

"I don't know," Geoff answers honestly. "Guess I pretty much already felt that way when they picked me up. Didn't think they came to bust me out and offer me a /better/ deal than the situation I was in." He shrugs. "I asked to give you a chance to tell me whatever you want."

Alex gives a dry, mirthless laugh at that. "Yeah, like a damn rabbit hole. You just keep going down," she replies with dark humor, glancing around the training room for a moment before returning her attention to Geoff, considering his odd philosophy. "Hell if I know what I want to tell you. I'm not used to people asking. Now suddenly everyone wants to know. Guess I just gotta get used to that too."

Geoff shrugs at Alex. "I don't have to ask," he says. "You take a turn. Say whatever you want." The invitation may be meant kindly, although Geoff's expression doesn't really give any hints.

That seems to give Alex pause. Such an open invitation makes it hard to think of even where to start. "How long have you been here?" she finally comes up with, eyeing him closely, perhaps to see if she can tell whether or not he's as willing to lie as he is willing to be lied to.

"About thirteen months," Geoff answers, his expression giving no clues to the veracity of his statement, or even his feelings. "Never been to New York before that."

"I woulda guessed longer," Alex muses without explaining that comment. Might be she's calling him on lying, but it really just seems to be an idle comment. "When'd they let you out?" If cabin fever is setting in already, she's going to have a very long road ahead of her.

"That's because I was in the Army before, and it's half the same thing," Geoff answers frankly, leaning his shoulder on the wall as he talks to Alex. "They let me out about two months ago." Meaning that despite his previous training in the armed forces, it took him nearly the full average amount of time for a new recruit.

"The Army, huh?" Alex replies rather keenly, as she puts that together with his earlier resistance at being called soldier. Her face falls slightly that he'd been stuck in training that long, but she, again, doesn't seem terribly surprised. "Guess at least you're out now." She pauses briefly before asking more quietly, "Does it get better?"

"Depends on what's bothering you," Geoff answers evenly, looking Alex over. "As you can see," he says, nodding toward the doorway Argyle left through, "People will keep telling you how to do your job even when you're full-fledged."

"Who said anything's bothering me?" Alex replies. "Got my shiny new second chance and all." Somehow, she manages to imbue that with sarcasm without changing from a deadpan tone. Following his gaze towards the door, she shrugs again. "Better than getting killed, I guess."

"Nobody's gonna kill me," Geoff says. "Place is full of hotshots who can barely heft their own brass balls. That one's better than most of 'em. Ego comes with the job, I guess. Anyway, you're a kid. Whatever's rough about this for you's different from what's rough for me, prob'ly."

"They don't have to heft their balls to fire a gun," Alex points out in an indifferent tone, though that might be put on. "And I'm not a kid. Not for a really long time." She shrugs again, glancing down at the ground. "But whatever. I'll survive. I hope so, anyway. Made it this far." Looking back up, she considers him again. "So I know he does guns." There's a nod towards the exit. "What do you do around here?"

"I don't do anything," Geoff claims. "I don't have to train you bitches. I do shit out /there/," he says. Presumably meaning in the wide world of espionage. Which is big talk for someone who's only been on the job two months. "But I like you, so if you need makeup tips, I will hook you up." He eschews the contraction for emphasis.

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to train us either," Alex replies with some subtle amusement. When he speaks of 'out there', she glances to the ceiling, having at least worked out that they're underground. "Thanks, but I think I'm getting all I can stand from Amanda," she notes flatly, looking back to him with a slight lift of her brows. "Then again, I bet you'd make it more interesting."

Geoff opens his mouth, but whatever he was going to say, he doesn't say it. So it was probably an insult about Amanda that he was too chicken or too smart to utter aloud in HQ to a new recruit. He actually smiles at the last thing she says. "Damn right," he agrees. "And I've got some secrets that were passed down to me by some very illustrious figures."

"Secrets, huh? Guess there are all kinds of those floating around this place," Alex replies with a quiet laugh. "If I have to deal with that crap, I guess I might as well do it right. Just no poking out my eye with that eyelash thingy." There are girly-girls and then there's Alex. The tomboy name seems to match a certain spirit.

"Get you some fake eyelashes and then you don't have to touch that scary-ass medieval-looking thing," Geoff suggests. "And yeah, you're in the right place if you like secrets," he agrees. "But we aren't stealing makeup secrets from the Russians. With their fake-ass lipliner…"

Alex gives a little chuckle at that, though it sounds a little tense. She must still be thinking about the eyelash curler wielded by Amanda. "Yeah, for make up, we'd want to target the, uh… French?" she guesses, the hesitation and lack of certainty marking her as a sure citizen of the world.

Geoff tilts his head and shrugs. "I guess," he says. "But I can't imagine a Frenchman who can keep a damn secret." He looks Alex over. "Not a fashion-magazine kinda girl, huh? What do you like?"

"Then our job is easy," Alex replies without missing a beat. There's a longer pause then as she considers his question, which should be simple enough, and yet still sort of throws her. "You mean, like, hobbies? I don't really have any of those. I guess I could lie, but then you might expect me to assemble model airplanes with you or something."

"So you're some innocent girl who got caught up in murder charges, you don't like to do anything, and now you're 'bout to be a spy, is that it?" Geoff wonders, lifting one eyebrow.

Alex considers that for a moment, not rushing to answer right away. "Pretty much," she finally replies with a shrug. "Life's a bitch like that, you know?" She tries hard to sound so very jaded and indifferent to it all, but the world-weary tone isn't quite foolproof. "I told them I didn't shoot no one, but they don't care."

"Yeah, I know," Geoff answers. "But I didn't know when I was nineteen damn years old." He looks Alex over again. "How come you took their deal, then, if you were innocent? You might've got off at the trial."

Alex gives a mirthless smile to that, almost like she pities him, but not quite that. "It wasn't ever gonna be a fair trial. Besides, not like they gave me that choice. Get sedated in solitary, wake up here. It was this or… Actually, I dunno that they ever even gave me an or."

Geoff looks a little bewildered. "Why shouldn't you get a fair trial?" he wonders. "You're a cute little white girl. Even if you /did/ do it, most juries'd hate to convict you."

"Guess we'll never know," Alex replies, though she sounds far from convinced that the justice system would have cut her any breaks. "I wake up here, they tell me it's a new life, and, well, here I am. It's nice, though, that you still got such faith in the system." That almost doesn't sound sarcastic either.

Geoff looks maybe a little skeptical about Alex's story, probably figuring he's missing a piece to it. "Well, you only have to worry about if it's fair if you're innocent, I guess," he answers.

Alex arches an eyebrow, picking up on that skepticism. "You think I did it? Hell, I don't care. Everyone else does too. Probably better for me now that people do," she muses with a shrug. "I made a big fight about it last time, and all that did was end me up here. People don't really listen to junkies." So there's perhaps a missing piece.

"I didn't say I thought you did it," Geoff says. "Now, if you were using, it makes more sense. Smack?" he wonders, looking Alex over. "Drying out must've been a bitch."

Alex gives a small nod to that, looking like she's a little regretful over that slip-up, but then, the word is all over Division anyway. Spy school is a hard place to keep a secret like that. "Yeah, it was," she replies simply, jutting out her chin slightly with an almost stubborn expression. "Can we just, like, drop it now?"

"Yeah," Geoff agrees. He doesn't offer any apology, but the matter is instantly dropped. "One thing I am /definitely/ better at than Amanda is dancing," he mentions, probably just to change the subject. "I should teach /that/. Not that people really need to know it these days except in the spy /movies/."

Alex remains tense for a few moments, until it's clear the matter really has been well and truly dropped. "Be nice to live in a movie, maybe. But I dunno about dancing. Like the waltz and stuff? Or … real dancing? With a beat and no rules…" She gives him a curious look with that.

Geoff shrugs. "Both," he says. "But Amanda can teach all that frilly waltz shit. I prefer /actual/ dancing. The kind they don't diagram with those little numbered feet." He makes a vague gesture.

"Yeah. I used to like dancing…" Alex admits, though from her tone, it sounds like it was quiet some time ago, and not just pre-Division. "And I don't really want to waltz with Amanda. Or anything. But I think especially Amanda." She'll take her chances on saying such things out in the open areas of the HQ.

"It's probably not compulsory," Geoff comments, smiling a little at Alex's spirit. "But listen, once they let you go in the wild, you can do whatever you want."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's gonna be any day now," Alex points out wryly. "Guess I have that to look forward to at least." She shrugs her shoulders, casting another glance around the training room. "I should probably get back to my dorm before curfew. Don't really need more trouble, you know? But it was nice talking to you. Once you stopped calling me kid," she amends with a half-smirk.

Geoff snorts. "I didn't call you kid, that was the other one. I called you babydoll," he argues, putting his hands in his pockets. "Good luck, then. Show 'em you're worth the investment."

"Nah, later you said I was just a kid," Alex points out, her tone informative rather than argumentative. "But babydoll isn't much better." In case he's keeping track of these things. She gives a little snort then to the idea of being worth the investment. "Here's hoping. See you 'round maybe." She pivots on her heel, swinging around to begin heading back through the locker rooms.

"You're nineteen," Geoff points out. "That is not my fault." He lets her go, approaching one of the training dummies for his own much-delayed workout. There is the sound of foam and plastic taking a serious beating before the door shuts behind Alex.


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