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[ "Augusta" is the name attached to this TAB. The picture is of curved white metal with a stripe of dark orange — leg armor, for any who may recognize it. ]

UNSC. Marines. RT-636.

[ In order: the military Maine knows, the branch he's in, and the hull classification symbol for the Mother of Invention.

[ North insisted on gathering intel while keeping a low profile. Maine's only interest is in returning to their mission. This is the result of compromise. ]

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[ Questions? Oh yeah. He's got questions. He wants to know how much time has passed for her. Where is her armor? Why is she armed with only a gun? He wants to know why North recoiled at the sight of him. He wants to know why York insisted on hearing his voice. He wants to know about the A.I.s. He wants to know about his A.I. He wants to know what happened after he was shot.

[ He grunts noncommittally and folds his arms, discomforted by the idea of taking off his armor. Blame the bullet hole. Or ... literally everything else going on. ]

The mission?

[ Was it a success? Did they suffer any casualties? His other questions — his ever-growing confusion and unease — can wait. Or not be asked at all. The mission takes priority. Always does. ]

The mission was a success. I wouldn't have made it out of there if you didn't protect me.

[ It's the truth, if not the whole truth. She doesn't want to tell him what their success triggered, the chain of events that came out of it. The AI fragments... and Maine's quiet death at the hands of Sigma. Eventually she'll have to tell him but for now she wants to try and ease him into it. ]

Have you figured out where you're staying yet? [ Knowing York if she doesn't figure something out he'll try to fit Maine into his apartment, too. ] I've got space where I'm staying if you want it.

[ Maine simply shrugs. Watching her back — watching all of their backs — is what he does. He's just glad she made it out. That the mission was a success. And yeah, it's good to know that he didn't take a bullet to the chest for nothing.

[ To her offer, he nods. ]

Thanks.

[ Then, moving down his list of priorities: ]

North's here.

[ Ensure that she's informed of the team's status. Ensure that they're taken care of. ]

Edited 2017-08-03 06:49 (UTC)

[ That's one issue taken care of, making sure she knows where he is while he gets settled. And more than that, having Maine back is something she never expected. ]

York told me, I'm sure he's already gone off to find him.

[ And she's looking forward to seeing him, too. All these old friends she had thought she'd made her peace with. So much for that. ]

Any other questions? I know things are pretty strange right now with everything going on.

[ York. That conversation — the way it ended — is next on his list. The mission is complete. Carolina knows North's status. Time to find out about the "shitshow" York mentioned.

[ Scattered. York said they scattered. As though there could ever be a reason good enough to justify it.

[ A low, irritated growl rumbles in Maine's chest. He looks down at Carolina — older, but whole and alive — and he shifts his weight back. Adjusts his stance so that any forward trajectory won't be aimed at her. He's not threatening her; he just wants a goddamn answer. ]

Project's status.

[ Of course. She sighs, hand rising to rub the back of her neck unconsciously. She's not the same person Maine would remember, all that intensity and anger mellowed into someone more stable than she was. And much as she wishes she could lie to him it won't do anyone any good for her. ]

It's long over, Maine. The Director-- he pushed things too far. Everything fell apart.

We fell apart.

[ It's not a familiar gesture. It's one that signals discomfort. When's the last time he saw Carolina uncomfortable about answering a question? Or about anything? It's jarring. It's genuine. And it makes her words hit all the harder.

[ Maine would believe her anyway. She's Agent Carolina. He trusts her completely. Isn't that why he'd wanted to get the answers straight from her?

[ He just hadn't expected that answer.

[ ... Fuck. ]

The war?

[ At least that question she can answer with good news. It's a small mercy but it's one she'll gladly hold tightly to. ]

The war is over, Maine. For a few years now, actually.

[ And now Carolina is fighting a new war on a different planet far, far away. Because some things never change, like the fact that she doesn't know how to live a peaceful life. ]

[ He doesn't have to ask who won. If humanity hadn't, Carolina wouldn't be around to tell him.

[ It's good news. Undeniably good news. He should celebrate, or something. Later. When he's in a celebratory mood.

[ Right now, he doesn't know what he feels. Doesn't know what he should feel. Doesn't care to puzzle it out, either.

[ He nods and asks nothing else. His other questions seem unimportant. ]

[ It's a lot to take in, to find out things have changed so much. Carolina reaches out and knocks her knuckles against his chest plate, opposite the side where the sniper shot him. ]

Come on, I have a patch kit at my place. We can get your armor fixed and then get some food. York and I are paying so you can get as much as you want.

[ A dangerous offer for someone as damn big as Maine but it's the least she can do. It's not every day you get a dead friend back, especially one who took a bullet for you. ]

[ A dangerous offer indeed. Maine tilts his head to the side, raises an unseen eyebrow, and growls out, ]

No take backs.

[ Is it childish? Yes. Does he mean it? Yup.

[ It is indeed a lot to take in. But, thanks to Carolina, he has other things to keep his mind occupied. ]

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