2023-02-13: Malfunction

• Log: Malfunction
• Cast: Liam 7-020, Angelo Sauper
• Where: A Lift on the Ra Mari II
• OOC - IC Date: UC 0097-02-13
• Summary: Looks like there's been a malfunction in the lift. We'll have you on your way soon; just sit tight...

---

<Pose Tracker> Liam 7-020 has posed.

        It's been less than a week since the 'negotiations' between Full Frontal and Captain York, and tensions are still running high on the Ra Mari II. Liam got a little break in the form of a personal meeting with Lucine and the Captain--he got to ride a utility tram, and spend time being useful. He also made the very dangerous decision to support the Three Ships Alliance as best as he could without letting NERV in on it. Liam is trying not to think about this last one.

        The Ra Mari needs more than just the tram system to connect its vast interior spaces: there are also lifts for cargo and personnel. Some do double-duty, like the one Liam's waiting for right now.

        The cyborg is in the same civilian outfit he wore to the meeting: hoodie, jeans, boots. He stands at the controls of a motorized cargo carrier, which is loaded down with containers of agricultural nutrient supplements. It's the sort of thing your average agro-colony's recycler puts out by the ton just by processing organic waste.

        The lift arrives. Liam takes the controls and gently guides the carrier into the corner of the lift, being conscious of other passengers.

<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.

Less than a week.

It's funny how less than can feel like more than when your nerves are set just the right way.

Tensions has a weird affect on time. When those tensions are heated and you find yourself in the thick of it, hours can pass by like minutes. When it's just simmering beneath the surface, slowly fraying at a tautly-drawn knot, even the closing of a lift's doors can feel like it takes an eternity.

Liam guides that carrier onto the lift. At the moment, there are no other passengers. There's no interference in him getting safely aboard.

The lift doors start to hiss shut --

--before a pale hand interjects, gripping the edge of the door seconds before it can safely seal Liam and his containers within.

The doors re-open, and the pale-haired, Royal Guard-uniformed form of Angelo Sauper stands waiting on the other side, a bruise on his cheek and a frown on his lips like it just came with the uniform. He takes a step forward -- and then those violet eyes fall on Liam.

Recognition settles into the lieutenant's fair features in a bemused blink that quickly becomes a narrow-eyed glare. Angelo lingers there at the entrance of the lift as if debating how much he wants to deal with this.

"Tt."

The second passes as the clip of Angelo's footfalls sound out, carrying him into the elevator, tensely shuffling into the lift at such a remove from Liam and his goods one might think Angelo thinks -one- of them is diseased.

He doesn't say a single word as the lift doors shut. He just clenches his fists and frowns deeper.

<Pose Tracker> Liam 7-020 has posed.

        A hand slips between the closing doors. Liam's eyes widen, and he steps towards the 'hold' button on the control panel, pressing it. The doors open again, revealing a wrist, and a very distinctive cuff. Liam's stomach flips as the rest of Angelo comes into view, and his face assumes an expression of practiced neutrality. He's already selected his floor. He just needs to endure this for a few short moments, and it will be over.

        The lift moves. Liam settles against the wall, near his cargo--he engaged the brake, and he double-checks it as they rise upwards. He doesn't meet Angelo's eyes. The bruise on his face is a stark reminder of what happened, and what Angelo is willing to do to protect a detestable man.

        The first sign that something's wrong is a faint lurch in the lift's smooth, controlled motion. Then a soft hiss as emergency measures engage, then a bright red light on the 'malfunction detected' panel.

        Liam stares at it, the crimson glow illuminating his pale skin. Fear grips him. It's just a mechanical malfunction, he reminds himself.

<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.

There's a certain way about someone to tell when they feel like they're in a hostile environment. It goes beyond just reading body language; it's about something more intangible. Instinct.

The way you can tell there's something not quite right in the air before a predator pounces.

Angelo Sauper's bearing is that same, haughty carriage he kept at the meeting: his left hand at his hip, the right hanging at his side, his posture straight-backed and his chin tilted fractionally upward like he was prepared to figuratively look down on anyone in his proximity.

But his jaw is clenched. Tension rolls through his muscles visible only in how utterly -stiff- he feels for such an arrogant pose.

And he never quite keeps Liam out of his peripheries.

But otherwise? Angelo doesn't taunt. He doesn't even make a single effort to speak. He just spares the briefest, pensive glance at those containers and what's within them before he affixes his gaze forward, jaw set. It will be a brief and uneventfully tense brush that will mark many unpleasant but ultimately forgettable encounters he has had on this absurdly and egregiously large ship.

And then the lift lurches.

Angelo stiffly tilts forward with the slow stop of momentum. He hears the hiss. Hooded but sharp, violet eyes drop down to that panel.

He stares at 'malfunction detected' in perfect concert with Liam for five seconds that tension drags out so much longer.

The knot frays a bit more --

"What did you do."

It's perhaps the first thing Angelo directly says to Liam, but he doesn't look at the other man for a moment, stare fixed on that light. The taut evenness of his tone does not, for a second, frame it as a question, so much as a suspicion.

It's just a mechanical malfunction.

But Angelo doesn't hesitate to see something foul in it.

<Pose Tracker> Liam 7-020 has posed.

        Liam takes a deep breath, and presses his hands to the wall to feel the texture of the metal beneath his palms. He holds that pose for a few moments, in mute supplication before the universe in general--hoping against hope that everything fixes itself and that he will not be trapped here.

        Nothing happens. Liam is not a small person, but that's never stopped him from feeling like he's not the one looking down. When Angelo speaks, he flinches, and glances at the panel again. "Didn't do anything," he says, and he has to breathe to keep the tremor out of his voice. "Malfunction." The call button lights up, and Liam presses and holds it to activate the speaker. There's a button just like it in his apartment complex's lifts. A moment later, someone on the other end picks up.

        "Lift 43-C? We see your red light, looks like you're stuck between decks. Please hold on, we're going to start troubleshooting."

        "Understood," Liam says, his voice wavering.

<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.

'Malfunction.'

There's a tremor in the way Liam says that word.

"Malfunction."

There is hostility in the way that Angelo repeats it.

It's remarkable, how three syllables can be packed with so much incredulity they practically drip at the seams with it. The Sleeves officer's gaze shifts slowly from the lift's flashing red light to the larger man he stands at a remove from. He considers Liam; the way he flinches. The way his voice shakes as he holds down on the call button and speaks to the voice on the other end of that line.

He thinks back to not so long ago, when this man was one of the first to pull him away from that -boy-, and he feels bile in the back of his throat at the sight of him now.

What can Angelo do in the face of this?

"... Hah!"

What can he do but laugh?

It comes suddenly at the end of that conversation with the Ra Mari's helpful maintenance crew. Barked out and short-lived, it's not a good-natured thing -- one might easily assume it's condescending, considering how contemptuous and scornful it sounds.

Angelo lifts his left hand, pushing it through that thick, white mane of hair as his laughter fades.

"You people," he mutters, shaking his head against his palm.

"You act like you can make things right when you can't even make a lift that works. Ridiculous."

<Pose Tracker> Liam 7-020 has posed.

        Liam flinches again, at that laugh. His shoulders tighten. He turns away from the panel, his face almost completely expressionless. There's the tiniest little tic in his lips, like he needs to frown, but can't.

        "Please be patient, sir," he says, and his voice is just like his face: a veneer of calm over a yawning chasm of fear and uncertainty. He holds his hands up, palms forward, in what he hopes is another disarming gesture.

        He can't tell if he's terrified of Angelo, of what he represents, or what his superior might do if he learned of this. "Frustrating." He can't get out the whole sentence.

<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.

Palms are presented towards Angelo. It's a calming gesture, just like the neutrality in Liam's expression, just like the pacifying tenor of his tone. Professional. Neutral.

A mask.

A scowl twists at Angelo Sauper's lips so fiercely it makes the bruised stretch of his cheek sting fierce. He ignores it; it's far, far from the worst he's felt.

"Frustrating?" he repeats, much like before, only now it's irritation that poisons those three syllables. His hand drops from his face as he just -stares- at Liam.

"... Yes. I agree. It -is- frustrating. It is -frustrating- being stuck here. It is -frustrating- having you try to -ply- me. It is -frustrating- watching you act like -I'm- the dangerous one on this lift!" Angelo's fingers curl, concealing his palms as they coil into fists. His head tilts up, lips curdling like someone who drank deep of spoiled milk.

"Where's that fire of yours from before? Are you afraid of me now? Or maybe you're just like every other Federation dog, only brave when you have the -numbers- to strengthen your spine."

<Pose Tracker> Liam 7-020 has posed.

        Liam tries to breathe. The lift car isn't small, but it feels, for a moment, like the walls are closing in on him. His eyes drift closed for a moment before he corrects this mistake. He can't look away from Angelo. His instincts for what to do in this situation--drilled into him by the Crucible's personnel--demand otherwise.

        He hates that they're what he's falling back on.

        '--like -I'm- the dangerous one on this lift!'

        Liam's hands twitch and clench. His own anger starts to build. Angelo is correct about one thing--here, there's no one Liam needs to protect, beyond himself. He's still struggling with the concept of himself being someone worthy of protection.

        'Federation dog'

        For a moment, Liam's gaze goes distant, and he's watching a broadcast out of Haman Karn's Neo-Zeon. The details are a smear of horror and confusion--and then Hephaestus tells him that these are the people who murdered his parents.

        "You're a guest," Liam chokes out, anger surfacing in his eyes at last. "Please act it."

<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.

There it is.

The last of Angelo's harsh words see hands becoming fists. And almost like he's more relaxed in the presence of that burgeoning hostility, Angelo's own fingers gradually relax against his palms. His body language remains alert; his stare never loses that sharpness.

But the look of anger gradually recedes to more baseline levels as Liam's rises somewhere more obviously noticeable in his eyes, until a scowl becomes something more tautly neutral.

"Hmp. That's a more honest look."

It isn't said in a praiseworthy way. It isn't said with relief. It's just said. Spat out into the air like an undeniable fact of human nature. Angelo's gaze shifts towards the flashing red light after this; but he keeps Liam in his peripherals, always.

"Your captain laid out her rules. I'm abiding by them. Am I not acting like a guest? Maybe you can tell me, exactly, how I should act to please you?"

That purple stare turns, to glare at Liam from the corner of his eye.

"Maybe I can start by thanking you for how -welcoming- you are."

<Pose Tracker> Liam 7-020 has posed.

        Anxiety sharpens Liam's already-formidable perceptions. He's used to watching others closely, especially if they're angry with him, because the tiniest tell could give him vital clues as to what they wanted. Angelo... wants anger, that much is obvious. But why? So he can goad Liam into lashing out, and then run to Full Frontal to give him everything he needs to escalate?

        He could answer Angelo's questions, but something tells Liam he isn't asking in good faith. It takes a little mental effort, but he doesn't.

        "You're welcome," Liam says, almost matching Angelo's tone. Redirect. "Why did you take that punch?"

<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.

'You're welcome.'

"Tch."

Irritation flares in Angelo's gaze. He doesn't bother to hide it, but it doesn't go further than that; no, he seems almost... content to just leave it at that, like he'd just as soon -not- talk to this man he is trapped here with.

If he's -looking- to needle, he doesn't take the opening that tone-echoing response provides. He just lapses into silence.

Until:

'Why did you take that punch?'

The look Angelo snaps at Liam is like the man just opened Angelo's diaries and spat on the pages. Wide eyed and incensed, he realizes how he must look, and snaps his gaze away a single second later, lips pulling into a thin line and gaze narrowing as if to try to compensate.

"It's none of your business," is his first, spat denial. A second passes as Angelo's pale brows crease in consternation. Ten seconds pass by like that before a sound of annoyance escapes his lips.

"... No one will hurt him," he finally says. "He is the only one who can bring us real change. The -only- one. I won't let anyone bring harm to the Captain, much less touch him with their filth."

Hands become fists once again.

"Especially someone like -him-," he mutters, beneath his breath.

<Pose Tracker> Liam 7-020 has posed.

        Liam allows himself a moment of vindictive joy as Angelo slips. A moment later, the guilt sets in, but it isn't as strong as it sometimes is. He flexes his fingers, takes a deep breath, and refocuses. Angelo is an enemy, and an infuriating one on top of that, but he's still a person. There has to be a reason why he's so single-mindedly loyal.

        "I... don't know much about him," Liam admits. "Just... that he's taken up Char's mantle. Don't know much about him, either. All I know of your Captain for certain is what I saw in that meeting. You heard what he said to me. Didn't you?"

<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.

Angelo Sauper's foot taps impatiently as Liam compares Full Frontal to Char Aznable; he eyes that flashing light like he could burn a hole through it.

"You -don't- know. And yet you act as if his nature repulses you," the Sleeves lieutenant says, his voice dismissive. "Because you refuse to understand the truth. It's why none of you will ever come close to being able to accomplish what needs to be accomplished. It's why you're all a joke."

'You heard what he said to me. Didn't you?'

The tapping stops.

Did he hear? The truth is...

Angelo looks sidelong at Liam. His brows furrow.

"... What are you talking about?"

... he couldn't hear Full Frontal's whispers.

He just saw that look of scarcely-contained disgust that followed after.

<Pose Tracker> Liam 7-020 has posed.

        Liam's face tightens. He doesn't know what to say to that, at first. The speaker interjects for him.

        "Lift 43-C?" It's that same engineer. "We've got a team on-site. Looks like it was a malfunction in the secondary brake, just sit tight and we'll have you on your way soon."

        "Understood," Liam says, as he presses the call button again.

        "He said... we were manufactured." As soon as the speaker's off, he turns back to Angelo. "Becoming more than we were ever planned to be. If he's--if he's suffered, then I--"

        "He was so cruel," Liam chokes out.

<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.

The engineer offers an update. Angelo offers the speaker a frown.

'... just sit tight and we'll have you on your way soon.'

"It's already too late for that," Angelo mutters unpleasantly. But his attention is on Liam, now, as he speaks. Angelo tilts his head to regard Liam directly as he talks of Full Frontal. Talks about how he - they - were manufactured. Became something more.

"..."

In that moment, it feels like time stretches forever. In this lift where time has seemed to be completely seized in tension, somehow it strains that much more beneath the weight.

'He was so cruel.'

And that fraying not just snaps.

Liam is larger than Angelo. Very likely stronger, too, all things considered. It doesn't stop Angelo from sweeping his hand up to try to seize the other man by the collar of his shirt and shove -firmly- with that grip, his entire expression going wide-eyed and livid.

"He said that to you, and THAT'S all you care about?!" shouts the commander of the Royal Guard, expression twisting in fury and something like dismay. Soemthing raw.

"He's the king of the dispossessed! The answer to m--to our prayers! So if you think he's being CRUEL maybe you should ask yourself -why- our voice comes out so 'cruel'!"

Like a nerve exposed.

<Pose Tracker> Liam 7-020 has posed.

        Just a little while longer, Liam thinks to himself. He's suffered through far worse than this. Far, far worse. It's still awful. It's still lasted far too long.

        Angelo lunges forwards, and as he does, there a moment of deliberate stillness on Liam's part, like he's keeping himself from responding to violence with more violence. Angelo felt just how strong he was when he grabbed his arm; there is a very real fear of maiming him, or worse. Liam lets him shove him. His back hits the wall, and Angelo screams into his face.

        He can't hit back. (How dare he.) Hitting back never works. (HOW DARE HE.)

        By the end of Angelo's tirade, Liam's face is almost a mirror for his own. "You've suffered," he says, his voice low even as he acknowledges--forces himself to acknowledge--Angelo's complaint. "You're not the only ones. Do you have ANY IDEA what it's like to have BRITANNIA'S BOOT ON YOUR THROAT? To endure it for CENTURIES, to STARVE because they need your food, to DIE because they demand you fight their wars?! It's the same monster. It's the SAME BLOODY THING--" The faintest trace of an accent starts to creep back into Liam's voice. "--That's killing YOU, but you think ALL Earthnoids are the same! So just--" Liam's crying, now, and he trails off in a wracking sob. "Just remember that. Next time."

<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.

You've suffered.

"Don't speak about me!"

The words come in a snap as Liam forces himself to acknowledge the spacenoid, as if the very act was somehow a threat on Liam's part. It's maybe an odd contrast to how aggressively Angelo physically addresses someone whose grip alone left bruises on his arm, or to how he seems to not even acknowledge the fact that any physical rebuke on Liam's part could do considerable more harm.

But maybe things like that are lost in the translation of mutual fury and misunderstanding.

Other than that reproach, Angelo doesn't try to shout over the other man as anger surges through him -- but somehow, Angelo just seems to grow more upset listening to Liam break down. It's hard to place the source of it -- hard to say why his expression twists up, why his jaw sets so tight it's trembling, why his fist clenches even tighter against Liam's front.

But as those cries reach Liam's lips, Angelo's clenched hand trembles, and nothing but silence reigns for an eternity of seconds.

His first act is not to speak, after all that time and tension, but to shove off of Liam, releasing him with the motion and falling back to the opposing wall as if mutually repulsed. Hands on the cool surface behind him, Angelo's gaze is partially obscured by the white bangs that fall haphazardly over his right eye as he stares at Liam with a cocktail of emotions largely overridden by anger and disgust.

His second act is to tear his gaze away. And his third...

"We're all the same."

... is to offer understanding in a way that doesn't sound even remotely like a compliment so much as a curse.

Slowly, Angelo straightens. He composes himself towards a level of baseline, terse neutrality as he turns completely towards the door, as if expecting (hoping) for it to open with his attention turned towards it.

"... If you really understand, then you won't get in the Captain's way. If you do...

"... you'll just be repeating the same, stupid mistakes as every person who's come before you."

<Pose Tracker> Liam 7-020 has posed.

        Angelo lets go, and leaves Liam's personal space. The cyborg takes a few shuddering breaths, and puts a hand to his chest to steady himself further. He was wholly expecting Angelo to escalate, after what he'd said, but...

        The anger's still there, but it doesn't seem... as virulent as it was a few moments ago. Liam knows better than to assume this means they've reached an understanding. He wipes at his eyes with his sleeve, and focuses on calming down.

        The red malfunction light winks off, and the tech's voice filters through the comm. "All right, 43-C, you're good to go. We're deactivating the locks."

        There's another hiss from outside the lift, and finally--finally--it starts to move again. A few seconds later, and the door opens again, at Angelo's stop. Liam steps around to the controls of the cargo pallet, and prepares to unlock the brakes. He chances a look at Angelo, but doesn't speak. What else can he say?

<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.

Off shuts the red light. Angelo Sauper's gaze focuses straight ahead at the lift doors as he presses his thumb against the communications button.

"Understood."

Those three syllables come off tightly clipped, tightly controlled. Angelo's thumb leaves the button.

For the rest of its brief ascent, the Sleeves lieutenant is silent. He reaches his hands up; smooths out his hair to its immaculately styled status quo. And all that explosive anger reigns in until that terse neutrality returns to the surface.

And yet, as the lift stops, as the doors his open, as Liam looks at him, there's still something in those purple eyes that wasn't there before. It's hard to place exactly what.

Whatever it is, Angelo does not look back as he takes a single step off the lift. What else can be said?

"-Thank- you for being so welcoming."

The doors hiss shut.