captainryan | (no subject)

((From here))

Ryan makes his way to his own door and heads straight for the bathroom. He’s halfway tempted to just bin the clothes he’s wearing, except they’re his BDUs. And, well, they’re his BDUs. Best to see if he can’t get them clean first.

He removes the ordinance that managed to avoid being slimed by being in a pocket: a few stun and incendiary grenades and the ammo for the P226. The pistol itself was not so fortunate.

But he absolutely has to get out of these clothes before he cleans it.

A minute later there is a slimy black pile on top of a clean white sheet waiting to be taken to the laundry room. He digs out the gun cleaning kit he purchased when Bond first agreed to bring him a firearm. He didn’t expect to be using it before that, but he’s not going to complain.

That was wonderful, wasn’t it? He enjoyed holding a firearm again, even if it was one as strange as a Korlian XT-17. Magnificent weapon. He’s missed being active, the thrill of a firefight, the satisfaction of winning and completing the objective. Even if only one was successful. The infiltration and recapture of MiB headquarters went well, as far as he can tell. Unfortunately, that was only his secondary objective. The first was the protection and safety of Suzi Darley, and she was eaten by a giant alien worm.

That’s failure as far as he’s concerned.

Now she was suffering from PSD and hallucinations, causing her to say things she didn’t mean.
Couldn’t mean.
It never should have happened. He should have gone after her as soon as she disappeared. Instead, he had assumed she would be safe.

Stupid, moronic, incompetent mistake.

Bitterly, he sets aside the P226 and finally steps into the shower himself. With the water set to near scalding, the alien gunk finally begins to slough off. He washes again because he can still smell it clinging to his skin and once more for any traces he may have missed. And then he just stands there, soaking up the steam. He’s grateful that the Milliway’s showers never seem to run out of hot water. It’s good to be home.

Home? Did he truly think of the Bar as home? He’d been here a little over three months, and it wasn’t as though he was going anywhere else. It was as good a place as any to call home. Which also explained why he’d been on edge as of late. Putting it in terms of his condition, another werewolf in the Bar was a threat to his territory, as foolish as it sounded. Thrice damned werewolf instincts. He sighs in annoyance as he shuts off the shower.

Thinking of Witherspoon has already put him on edge, but he knows he’ll adapt to the new werewolf’s presence. No, that won’t be a problem. The problem is will Witherspoon adapt to his presence? Or is Ryan going to have to be wary every time he goes downstairs?

He’s going to be thoroughly annoyed if it’s the latter. He was here first, after all, and the only werewolf who is always here. The Bar is his home, and just a visiting place for the others.
It’s not fair!
He’s just going to have to watch his step for a time and see what develops. He’s nothing if not patient. In the meantime, my God, those clothes stink. The steam had been masking them, but now the shower is off. He throws on a robe. These are going to the laundry room right now. Gingerly he gathers up the corners of the sheet and holds the bundle away from him, trying not to gag, and failing.

But it's not nearly enough to make him wish he had declined the offer to go out of Bar.