directed | IC Inbox - Entranceway

GET HERE FAST

MICK'S ROOM

EMERGENCY

WE NEED YOU

[There are several hints within the message that should tip Rip off to what it truly is—specifically, that Leonard had taken time to type it out rather than just using the voice or video feature of the phone. Yet Rip’s instinct when he’s called upon isn’t always to question, and besides: he doesn’t think that Leonard would summon him in such a way if it weren’t truly an emergency.

Of course, the timing would be terrible, as should be expected: Rip is currently on the roof, working on some project or another in the open air rather than the confines of his room. It does figure that when he takes the opportunity to expose himself to the light of day, something like this would happen.

Mick’s room is eight flights of stairs away, although Rip would at least be heading down. He races through the stairwell, skipping steps, hoping over railings at points when the fall won’t be so dangerous as to cause harm, running as fast as he can towards that far off second floor. By the time he enters the hall his gun is drawn, and Rip all but throws himself against the door as he reaches for the handle to open it.

Suffice to say, he’s rather out of breath by the time he actually makes it in, but that hardly means he’s not ready for whatever’s going on. His gun is pointed forward, his eyes sharp to seek out whatever danger has caused his comrades to summon him.]

Fuck. You win. [Mick groans and looks up at Rip from where he's sitting on the floor, the stopwatch thrown away in a slight huff because seriously, Rip? Couldn't you have been slower? He never got to win against Leonard! There is no emergency, no crisis, no real problem. Just Mick and Len, chilling on Mick's floor in a sort of circle of cleanness around the surrounding mess that is Mick's room.

He looks at Rip and shrugs his shoulders.] Pass me a beer?

[Mick's beers were on a table near his door and he kind of wanted them but he didn't want to move and seen as Rip came all this way, he may as well be useful.]

Down to the second too. [Seems worth noting. Leonard's inner clock tends to be pretty accurate, he has no idea why Mick even tries to win a bet against him with that. He's leaning back against Mick's bed, shuffling a pack of cards with the skill that should be expected of someone with his background.]

Pass me one too? [Time to explain the emergency.]

We need a third.

[Rip’s thoughts need a moment to catch up with him, as he burst in the room quite ready to react to some dire need for his help rather than stumble across—this. He raises his gun up to avoid any friendly fire when Mick tossing the watch aside catches his eye, the confusion evident as he takes in the fact that there is no actual emergency to be seen. Mick and Leonard both confirm it a moment later, the comments they toss out enough for Rip to piece together just what they’d apparently been testing.]

Bloody hell, are the pair of you serious? [At least Leonard implies that they hadn’t summoned him just for the purpose of handing out beers. Oddly, it doesn’t do much to calm Rip’s temper.] You do realize that I was on the roof, don’t you? No, of course you do. That was the whole bloody point.

[Well, clearly he can put the gun away now, despite a lingering temptation to still employ it. Notably, Rip has yet to either fetch the requested drinks or sit down. Given the state of Mick’s room, it’s hard to want to risk touching anything.]

Consider it like a fire drill. If this was a real emergency, you're making great time.

[Mick leans over and shoved some of his crap under the bed to make it look more presentable and make room for Rip. Hey, look, he picked up all his underwear already, what more did people want? He tried hard to make it look nice today and he didn't even think it was that bad but Leonard described it otherwise.]

We just wanted to see how much you cared about us. [Apparently a lot. That was pretty fast. Even Mick couldn't haul ass as swiftly as that.] You look beat. grab us all a beer and sit down.

Very touching, captain. Thank you. Besides, you helped me win my bet.

[Leonard shifted a little closer to Mick, leaving more space for Rip.] You're good with poker, right?

[Whether he is or isn't, Leonard's shuffling the card and evidently ready to deal, nodding to the piles of cookies in the middle between them.]

We were going to play for chips, but Mick ate them all, so it's a dessert battle.

[Rip raises a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, reminding himself that this is likely the pair’s version of “meaning well.” Of course it falls right in line that they’d expect him to drop everything and sit down for a game of cards and a beer. It’s highly inconvenient, disruptive, even rude--

And if Rip didn’t know them both so well as he does, he wouldn’t recognize the inclusiveness of the gesture.]

Yes, well. Compliments aside, there’s plenty enough time for me to get a workout without the accompanying sense of urgency, thank you. [Translation: don’t do it again. He considers the materials left on the roof: all harmless, unassembled, tools that can be replaced should they vanish. It’s all lacking in unique value, nothing overly time sensitive, and honestly? Rip doesn’t feel like trudging up so many flights of stairs yet again today.

Beers and cards it is, then.]

Should I ask what prize I helped you win? [He’s considerate enough to grab the requested drinks before he drops down in the spot they’ve so kindly cleared for him.] And poker will suffice, I suppose.

[Especially since collateral has already been provided. Cookies work as well as anything else—although honestly, Rip has no plans of actually eating anything that’s spent a significant amount of time in Mick’s room.]

If we'd texted to ask if you wanted to join us for cards and beer, would you have shown? Nah.

[Mick takes his beer and huffs a little, cracking the bottle open against the bedframe that wasn't far away and happily chipping at wood. He had to sacrifice it for his beer, you see.

He doesn't look happy as he takes a sip, glares at Leonard for a moment before reluctantly returning to Rip. Ah, yeah, the bet.]

I gotta clean my room and get rid of all the trash.

[Which was hard. His room was 90% trash.]

For all the fifteen minutes that's gonna last.

[But hey, given how much time he ends up spending in Mick's room, it's still worth it.

Leonard opens up his own beer and takes a long sip, still feeling fairly smug about both his bet and the fact that Rip is now here, just as planned. He picks up the cards, absently shuffling them before dealing.]

We all know you can bluff well, Rip. You any good at the game though?

[Rip—well. He can’t exactly argue against Mick’s assertion that the honest offer would have received a refusal. Not that he wouldn’t have appreciated it (as he does now), but the work remains unfinished, and Rip’s priorities have not changed. His desire is to escape this prison and finish his mission, and while it might all turn out to be a futile effort, the last thing Rip wants to do is feel like he’s accepting the fate of being trapped here.

Not when it seems so much like becoming a puppet once more.

Yet he also can’t deny that this brand of comradery means a great deal to him, particularly given all each man has gone through, what they have lost thanks to Rip’s bringing them on board the ship. Perhaps it is not trust, exactly, but it falls close enough to friendship for Rip to be thankful for it.

All thoughts which go unsaid; instead Rip merely tilts his head to the side, his mouth briefly drawn in a tight line in silent admission that yeah, Mick’s probably right. Far be it from him to admit that, however.]

Is that what you gambled for? [Rip’s eyes widen momentarily before a hint of a smirk plays over his lips.] Suddenly I find myself not minding the jog nearly so much at all.

[Because seriously, Rip’s on Leonard’s side here. This room is terrible.

He keeps his hands folded together while Leonard deals, patient enough to wait until they’ve all gotten their cards before he reaches for his. The question causes him to look up at Leonard, his face carefully neutral before casting a glance towards Mick.

Timelines. Right.]

I spent a fair deal of time in era of the American Old West, as a matter of fact. [Something which Leonard knows but Mick has yet to experience.] Granted, not everyone there is what you’d call a “card shark,” but I did learn a few things about poker.

[Including some tricks that don’t fall in line with the rules. Considering who he’s playing with, however? Rip suspects it would be unwise not to use them.]

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