captainryan | (no subject)

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It's still early, though not that. Ryan's finished his morning workout and has just stepped out of the shower. River's downstairs at the moment, probably reading, and Damocles with her since he gets bored waiting for Ryan to get clean.

As if Ryan's thrilled when Dam gets muddy.

He opens the bathroom door to let the steam clear out into the main room, prowling to the dresser to get fresh clothes.

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"But she carries actual books about," Deitmar says mildly. Maybe he's just confused.

"When did she... I do not understand the consciousness part."

[D'oh. Retcon that anthropologist to archaeologist.]

"Yes? She's not digital here," Ryan points out a shade amused. "I believe she likes the weight of them as well." Since she carries them in the Library, too.

"Her mind was uploaded to the computer that runs the Library. It's roughly 5400 for her." He sounds a bit unsure about the date, but it explains the tech.

"So she lacks a physical body there."

Her consciousness has moved out of her body, in fact, but he does not say dead.

Ryan thinks he sees what Deitmar's getting at.

"As far as I know. She said she's dead, however, and she wasn't lying. She knows I'm deceased as well.

"We haven't really gone into details beyond that."

"I see."

Perhaps this was legitimate.

Interesting.

"And she knows the rest."

Ryan raises an eyebrow at him.

"Which bits?" He did just say they hadn't really gone into details.

"Werewolf?"

Just the very obvious rest. :D

Oh, that.

"Of course," Ryan says lightly. "That's not the sort of thing I keep secret. She'd likely figure it out anyway, what with the disappearing into the woods three days a month, talking to dogs, and what have you."

"Good luck," Deitmar says, since it's been a month and if the hammer's going to fall, this is probably about the time.

He's not going to like it.

"I... did not like having been away."

That might have been an apology. In a way.

Ryan takes this as his cue to get up and sit on the arm of the chair, putting one arm around his pup.

It's partly reassurance for himself as well that things are going to work out. Even if he knows better than that.

"I missed you." That much is obvious. "I'm glad you were able to come back."

He's silent for a moment.

"Suzi's getting married, you know. I just found out the other day."

"Oh? I'm glad I didn't return later."

He will attend if invited. And do nothing ceremonial, if he can help it, but will offer congratulations.

Ryan would like to pull him into a lean, but he knows better than that.

"Yes, now that she's a citizen, she and Whistler have been planning their wedding. She's thrilled, of course, but this is Suzi we're talking about."

No surprise there.

It's been six months since anyone touched him much at all.

"Good. It's good for her to have something to think about. She likes to have something interesting going on."

"She'll be glad to know you're all right."

He lets himself give Deimtar a light squeeze.

"Anything I can do for you while you're here? Anything you need me for on your world?"

His pup is very self-sufficient but it does not hurt to ask.

"I didn't expect to be gone so long." He's saying that again, and by his little expression of annoyance, he knows it.

"No. I have things in as much order as can be expected." Deitmar's expression goes a little more flat, and he looks away.

"And you and Birkin are safe, correct? Umbrella can't find you?"

He knows he's pushing, but he wants to make sure they're going to be okay. Deitmar more than Birkin, but it's the thought that counts, right?

"Here we must rely on the intelligence forces of the United States to hide something they needs to keep hidden." Wesker shrugs. "I have a new identity, of course, a new name.

"... which made disowning me entirely pointless. I don't know why he bothered, much less put any effort into it, but I suppose the details must be observed."

He smells so bitter. Screw it, Ryan decides. If Deitmar wants him to stop, he'll say so.

Which is how the pup gets pulled into a hug.

"Your father is a shitwipe," Ryan enunciates...well, we can't really call it flatly if there's a growl in it.

Deitmar first freezes, then tolerates it, and finally starts shifting out of it after a few seconds.

"It's done," he says, coldly. "He and my mother are still... protected, but I think you can see the tactical value in that." It was a good move in terms of security, of keeping up impressions, and of offering a target that would not cost him if it were hit.

"Which means you effectively saved his life," Ryan points out. Daddy's an ungrateful bastard. Ryan is unsure how attached Deitmar is to his father, otherwise he'd say even more. As it stands, he'll let it lay.

He eases up on the hug knowing Deitmar's not used to it. "How are the Yanks treating you?"

"The family name is gone," Deitmar says. "He credits it to me. I admit I wasn't ex--hn."

Gear switch time. "As my loving countrymen," Deitmar says with sarcasm. "They're doing exactly what I expected, which is to let me work with constant supervision. Birkin is pleased enough to be allowed to work."

"You can tell me, you know. And then I could go growl at him for you. Or more, if you like." Ryan is all about the generosity.

"Then I doubt their shadow organizations have heard of you, yet. Or maybe they're still fighting about who gets you," he says thoughtfully.

"He slapped me. It doesn't matter now. Neither of them do.

"...that was a cheerful little thought," Deitmar adds. Really, he's not sure what to make of it.

Ryan shrugs. "Offer stands.

"It'd be secretive, but you're used to that. And you'd be working for their government so while you may work under restrictions, you can't be accused of any wrong doing."

Unless he ignores the restrictions, of course.

"They'd be morons to waste talent that's practically fallen in their laps." Then again, they are Yanks.

"I helped to create an uncurable plague that causes three-quarters of the dead to get up as zombies," Deitmar says simply. "I don't imagine the restrictions will become any lighter."

He simply can't not be proud of his work. He's tried. He's failed. He smells of pride now.