[ may i log: the good fight ]

[barrayarmods]

Who: Everyone
What: The culmination of months of planning and suffering finally comes to bear as the Barrayarans launch their debilitating attack on the Cetagandan base. Politics, as always, go sight unseen but felt everywhere.
When: May 1st - 18th
Where: the Barrayaran camp, the Cetagandan base, Riverfall Village
Warnings: TBD

Quick links:
Riverfall
Barrayar: Camp / Missions
Cetaganda: Base / Missions

TIMELINE
5/5 Eavesdropping
5/7 Hacking
5/11 Mystery Plot
5/15 Attack on the Cetagandan base

riverfall
The village is finally starting to get back on its feet after a few blessedly uneventful weeks. Other than the routine Cetagandan patrols, there hasn't been much activity in the village, and no new strife. The villagers merely continue their rebuilding efforts and tend to their fields, and they'll still gladly accept any help offered by outsiders.

With the village down nearly half its population, there's room to grow, even after last month's fight destroyed some of the homes, so Speaker Gura has been taking in refugees from other nearby hill villages – about ten refugees have moved to settle anew in Riverfall in the last few weeks.

barrayar
The time to strike is now.

All three camps are preoccupied with preparations for the attack on the 15th: as far as Barrayaran intelligence knows, no reinforcements are on their way to the Cetagandan base, and the guerrillas need to strike while the Cetagandans are still down nearly half their forces. It's the only shot they have at forcing the occupying troops to leave Vorkosigan Vashnoi and give them a chance at retaking the city – and they're not throwing away this shot, because they might not get another one.

The political unease surrounding Dorca and Yuri is a quieter tension, plaguing only those politically savvy (or well-positioned) enough to understand the situation, but if you're paying close enough attention to the moody Crown Prince, you'll note that Yuri's primary concern isn't the outsiders, but something much closer to home. He's never been a particularly warm man by anyone's account, but lately he's especially given to foul moods, and only part of it is grief for his most recently deceased son.

All further attempts at hostage negotiation from Zahal have been as curtly denied as the first, and just about as politely. Incorporating a rescue plan into their attack strategy wasn't exactly easy, but they won't get another shot than this at rescuing Princess Sonia – or Byerly, whose cover as a spy was recently blown during a failed attempt at smuggling Sonia out of the base. On the 15th, the Barrayarans prepare for war, some donning Cetagandan uniforms and face paint, others swiping mud over their faces to better camouflage themselves in the dark.

And the attack is a success. There's no real such thing as acceptable loss, but the top brass consider the 70 lives spent on the attack a fair cost for what they got: almost destroying the immediate Cetagandan power supply and the return of their Princess. Plus Byerly. The mood lightens considerably, but there is no rest in war, and just as soon as they take their next victory, Piotr, Dorca and Yuri are already planning the next move: finally retaking Vorkosigan Vashnoi.

camp
All three camps are heavily preparing, officers running drills nearly around the clock, quartermasters taking inventory and making sure every piece of equipment is clean and in working order, medical officers and techs preparing the sickbay tent as best they can for the inevitable injured who will return.

But despite the impending mission, tensions are still rising within the army – while top brass is vocally discouraging the fights that have broken out, it hasn't put a complete stop to them, and no one has openly endorsed the outsiders except for Piotr Vorkosigan. Vorvolk and Yuri are both still staunchly in the skeptic camp at best, but Dorca does not seem to have passed a final judgment on the outsiders before the attack. Perhaps he's merely biding his time, because for all the dissent about the outsiders, the Emperor hasn't barred Piotr from letting them participate in critical missions.

The soldiers make enough noise about it on their own. They're especially tetchy about the outsiders who crossed over from the Cetagandan side – they're as good as spies, as far as some of the soldiers are concerned. But even worse is letting Duv Galeni, a Komarran, not only remain in camp and feed on their resources, but actively participate in missions. For the most part, the soldiers in camp who have known the outsiders from the start and have befriended them are sticking with them, but the half of Piotr's army that was with Vorvolk after the split when the location of their last camp was discovered by the Cetagandans are nearly as suspicious as the Vorbarra battalion. Hostility towards Duv and those who escaped from the Cetagandan camp is especially severe, and it's no secret that some of them would prefer the outsiders dead rather than taking up space and resources in their army, though no one has been so bold as to actually make any attempts. Falco Vorkalloner, one of the Rangers who had been in Vorvolk's half of the army, hasn't been afraid to make his voice heard, though. He's even been heard saying that he thinks someone ought to make an example out of the Komarran and demonstrate just what they think of those who would side with the Cetagandans.

After the attack, the atmosphere of the camp is noticeably changed – the return of the Princess as well as what can only be considered a resounding victory for the Barrayarans has led to a jubilant and triumphant environment. And with Barrayarans, all celebration comes with a whole lot of drinking. Wine, vodka and maple mead are passed around aplenty in the nights and days following the attack, as soldiers burn offerings for their dead comrades and trade stories of action.

The tension with the outsiders begins to lessen after this victory, too. The fact that two outsiders, Wash and Lucy, are responsible for the Princess's rescue goes a long way toward relations between the outsiders and the rest of the army, and after the attack, Dorca gives the outsiders his endorsement as comrades to be trusted and honorary warriors fighting alongside them. Of course, this doesn't mean all hostility and tension merely dissipates – there are still plenty of soldiers like the now-deceased Falco who still think the outsiders are a threat and a parasitic presence. But things do start to lighten up a little after this victory...finally.

missions
General Piotr Vorkosigan himself leads the attack on the Cetagandan base, and Yuri leads his own contingent. Although there are some hitches getting in undetected, their plans to disable base security are overall successful, as is their sabotage of the power supply generators and Sonia and Byerly's rescue.

Meanwhile, Lakshmi and Sisko have found Falco Vorkalloner's dead body, and while it looks like an accident, it also looks like someone might have taken care to make sure it looked like one.

The unabridged mission results can be found here.

cetaganda
The social relief brought by the flower-viewing party quickly fades, and tension settles back over the Cetagandan base, underlined by Zahal's frustration with Piotr's flat-out refusal to meet his demands, or even so much as discuss them. He's sent more than one political ransom demand since Dorca's arrival, too, but to no effect. Given the recent guerrilla activity in Vorkosigan Vashnoi, he knows Piotr must be planning something, but with no informants left in the Barrayaran army, his intelligence is dry, and the investigations into weapons smuggling were ultimately fruitless. All known civilian resistance cells seem to have scattered and disappeared, their bases of operation boarded up or burned down. All he can do is concentrate as many troops as he can afford on the city's occupation, though he doesn't leave the base totally unmanned. But he does add another thousand troops to the occupying force in Vorkosigan Vashnoi in the week before the attack on the base.

Not everyone is being sent over, though, and the transfer doesn't make for as smooth a cover as one might hope. Gail is caught on an unauthorized trip to the city while off duty, and you might hear -- or overhear -- the dressing-down he gets from his commanding officer for it. He doesn't appear to have a ready excuse for it -- at least, not one that doesn't sound flimsy as hell.

Military matters affect those of the Star Crèche, however, and Zahal's frustration does not touch that sphere. Not that it isn't without its own tensions -- anyone who spends enough time with Diya and Sei (and Ba Talim, for that matter) will feel the rising tensions between them, though their origins are as obscure as the haut always are. The Star Gate Project, now officially under the jurisdiction of the Star Crèche, continues on with Micah at the lead, although they haven't for a moment forgotten that they are a prisoner here, or where their true loyalties lie.

After the attack, Zahal's fury reaches a boiling point, and since the Barrayarans did so much infrastructural damage, the consequences of military matters finally reach Diya and Sei, rankling them, too. The power shortage and damage to the science/medical complex has put a serious damper on Star Gate research, although as far as anyone is aware, the gene therapy trials and other related Star Crèche research goes on unimpeded, thanks to the successful protection of the secondary backup generator, which seems to exist only to power the medbay and gene labs. But since power is a hot commodity right now, Zahal is going to start pushing to reroute some of that power to what the haut would probably deem as lower priority needs.

base
The mood around the base is restless, Zahal's frustration trickling down into tensions among his officers and seeping into the very atmosphere. They're hardly prepared for the attack that comes because they don't even know what to expect. The soldiers all seem on edge, nervous, a little tetchy, particularly after Tarn's altercation with Diya and Natasha, and then the failed attempt to smuggle out the Princess -- but that did, at least, lead to the outing of Byerly Vorrutyer as a spy among the Cetagandans, confirming some suspicions held by the higher brass in Cetagandan intelligence. About the only comfort, if one can call it that, in all this tension is Byerly's summary fast-penta interrogation.

The gene therapy trials, despite some...trials, continue, and with much greater success than last month. Sei and Diya are as impassive as ever, but even so, there's a tangible undercurrent of mixed relief and triumph. Micahworks as feverishly as ever on the Star Gate Project with the aid and oversight of the military's scientific division and the exotics working as lab assistants. The satellite launch has proven to be a highly productive venture -- it's yielding data they couldn't have gathered otherwise, which is proving to be critical, and Micah spends time having Kaidan, Symmetra and Pearl put through another series of brain scans and consulting the neurology team as they study the results.

Although Sei is never seen outside of her force bubble, and doesn't actually travel around the base all that much, her presence seems to dominate the more civilian areas of the base, overshadowing even Diya -- although Diya is considerably less visible around the base after her altercation with Tarn. Amai is, of course, somehow seen just about everywhere, a constant social and professional presence that refuses to let anyone forget she's there. But after the 5th, she seems to be troubled -- she's far less impassive than the haut, and her anxiety and discomfort are much easier to see.

After the attack, Diya seems somewhat shaken -- it's almost impossible to tell how Sei is affected, but with facilities down, audits are being done on all existing projects to determine what's important enough to remain active while they have limited power. The base isn't quite in a shambles, but there's a lot of damage -- while the Barrayarans personally only carry swords and bows, they clearly have no issue with taking the Cetagandans' plasma arcs to wreak havoc at home -- and the atmosphere is overall demoralized. Sending more troops to Vorkosigan Vashnoi was clearly the wrong move, and it's a bitter pill to swallow, but Zahal begins to recall troops from the city in small waves to help better man the base, knowing full well that this must have been what Piotr intended.

missions
A few interesting tidbits are overheard in the dark of night, and Amai finds herself in the uniquely uncomfortable position of holding Diya's dark secret in one hand, and Sei's in the other -- and Ba Talim seems to know something, though it isn't clear what. And some creative hacking turns up some unexpected dirt on Sei that makes Diya's illicit ba experiments look like mere misdemeanors.

Despite the best efforts of the soldiers and the exotics and the fact that, even undermanned, they still outnumber the guerrillas by a landslide, the base is still overrun by Barrayarans and their attack is successful. The main and backup power generators are totally disabled for the time being, and it's unclear how long it will be before full power is restored to the base.

The unabridged mission results can be found here.

Note: Gavalas, Olivia, Zahal, Diya, and Sei & Ba Talim are available for threads on request. Hit up Madi (Gavalas, Diya, Sei & Ba Talim) or Ammay (Olivia & Zahal) if you'd like threads with these characters!

Comments

[vorrutyer]

Oh, you can't convince me for a moment this is how you start out.

[ Not that Byerly is completely unaffected. A handsome man touching him - when, damn, it's been a while since he's been touched. Prison really wasn't all it cracked up to be. Nor was the Cetagandan camp, really...But his voice is flat and practical; he extends his index finger and shoves lightly at Wash's cheekbone. ]

You just come up to someone and start groping their leg? That seems like an excellent way to get slapped. Or worse.

[protocol]

[ He makes some quiet, amused sound, keeps his hand right where it is curved over his thigh. It's his other hand that moves up to lightly push Byerly's aside so he can turn to look at him again, tilting his head slightly, his expression curious. His tone is even, but he's still keeping his voice in that slightly lower register, just because he can. ]

Sometimes it takes a bit of talking up. But being forward pays off. [ Not like he hasn't been turned down, of course he has, but not all that much, either. His hand shifts slightly over his leg, just enough that he can press his thumb against the inside of his thigh, his other hand lightly tracing his fingers up over his back, lingering over the bare skin at the nape of his neck -- and further up, tangling through his hair and twisting hard, just enough for it to hurt a little as he wrenches his head back. ] It helps to watch for a while, figure out who'd be more open to approach. Who's here for the same reason you are.

[ He doesn't seduce people, exactly, not anything like what Byerly's work would likely consist of. He just knows what he wants, finds someone who wants the same, and gets it. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ The rough handling gets a response, in spite of himself - a leap upwards in the speed of his heartbeat, a slight intake of breath, a sudden cessation of blinking. His eyelids just flicker slightly, his eyes fixed on Wash's, his lips parted only slightly. Yet his voice remains conversational, light - all but for the very, very slight drop in its tone. ]

And then you come over and manhandle them. My word, no wonder you've never had a relationship.

[ He reaches down, then, and grasps the hand on his thigh. He lifts it to his lips, twists his fingers so that it's curved around his hand, and kisses the knuckles. In contrast to most such kisses, though, which tend to be courtly and polite, this is rather lewd - a wet, hungry, teasing, skillful kiss. Tongue flicking between the valleys of his fingers. A licentious parody of something good and honest and romantic. ]

[protocol]

[ Mm, well. He catches those little signs, of course he does, that's what he watches for, what he's learned to watch for. There's something flickering in Wash's eyes too, how could there not be, something darkening as he watches Byerly tongue lewdly over his knuckles. His hand stays surprisingly relaxed, for a few moments, until he decides that's quite enough.

His hand twists even harder through his hair, this time hard enough to actually really hurt as he jerks his head further back, enough to force his mouth away. He pulls his hand back, then, just enough to lightly brush those knuckles against the curve of his throat, slightly damp with saliva, stalling over his pulse. ]

I didn't say you could do that.

[ Another shift to that tone of voice. Conversational as before, but still a little lower, and now with something a little commanding to it, too. He's still demonstrating, of course. This is how he works. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ This is a bad idea. Not because he might do something he regrets, but because he knows how this is going to work: he's going to get all hot and bothered, and then Wash is just going to drop him and walk away to prove a point. He knows how this works. He knows how this man's mind works. But, damn the man, that harsh admonishment is nearly enough to make him shiver, because you don't grow up on Barrayar and not get a little bit of an authority kink. Not possible. And that pain, too -

He licks his lips, still not blinking, liquid eyes with their long lashes absolutely intent on Wash's. The man has his absolute, unflinching, breathless attention. Utter and rapt, even as Byerly responds to him with a drawling - ]

You didn't earn my obedience, either. [ Experimentally, his hand dances forward, stroking at Washington's knee, to see if the man will slap it away. ]

[protocol]

[ Unfortunately, Byerly, just because you expect it doesn't mean Wash is going to do anything different.

Wash watches him closely, and really, Byerly is the type of man he might've approached if he'd seen him in some bar waiting for the right sort of person to come along. Someone with a taste for authority, who responds that way to a little rough treatment, that's pretty much just exactly what Wash tends to be after. Such pretty eyes, too.

He doesn't slap it away. Instead, he just keeps his hand in his hair, still tugging with enough pressure to hurt, that hand near his neck turning until calloused fingertips are resting against the side of his neck. He lets the pad of his thumb trail slightly against his skin, over the damp trail of saliva he'd left there moments before, pushing up against his pulse, and digging in. Just enough for there to be the slightest sting when his nail digs into his skin, and the amount of pressure perfect and clearly practiced, just enough to make it ever so slightly more difficult to breathe.

Calmly, with that same tone but with a bit more of a growl to his voice; ] Didn't say you could do that, either.

Drop your hand.

[vorrutyer]

[ The hand drops. He feels a corresponding little howl of lust rattling through him. He swallows hard, his throat bobbing against the pressure of that hand. Damn it all, sex is boring except for when it's like this, when there's a man with a face just a little stubble-roughened and hard eyes barking orders at him, or a woman with coldly contemptuous smiles sneering at his feeble efforts. Then he feels dizzy, then he finds it so damned hard to resist...

But he is trained. He's well-trained. He can manipulate right back. His voice is low and husky and raspy when he prods at Wash, asking him - ]

Can I get on my knees for you?

[ And his eyelids flutter down, his gaze lowering submissively. He knows just what his eyes can do. ]

[protocol]

[ Such immediate obedience. Just the way Wash likes it.

God, it has been a while, and Byerly knows what he's fucking doing when he lowers his eyes like that, when he lets his voice rasp, when he asks so very nicely. Not perfectly, no, Wash can be picky when it comes to perfect, but it's still nice, still has his eyes lidding in response, a quiet, pleased sound rumbling in his throat. ]

Who knew you'd be so obedient with the right motivation. You'd be something, with a bit of training -- but you already know how this is going to end, don't you?

[ Byerly's too smart for that, surely. Too smart to really let himself get wholly caught up in this. He pushes his thumb against his pulse just a little more, just to ratchet up that pressure ever so slightly. ]

Beg.

[ Or don't. Wash might want to see if he actually would. ]

[vorrutyer]

But when I know how it's going to end...

[ And yet even so. Even so, it's tempting to play at the game. He luxuriates in the warmth of it, the warmth of arousal. It's pleasant, even knowing it'll go unconsummated. It's nice to feel something other than bored contempt for the person he's with. It's really quite nice.

His hand comes up to Wash's wrist. His fingers, skillful, seek out those places where the nerves run close to the skin. Tracing and painting them with loving sensitivity. Watching carefully for every single flicker in Wash's eyes that indicate which spots those are and going back to them time and again. His hands are remarkable things, too - impossibly sincere, impossibly intent. ]

Would it give you pleasure? Hearing me beg? [ He presses sweetly on a tender spot, and murmurs: ] That matters to me.

[protocol]

[ God.

Not at all perfect -- you ask before you touch, you don't presume that it'd matter, you certainly don't question an order -- but so very, very pliable, and there's such a softness to that touch. Deft and knowing, so very sincere in what they're looking for, Wash knows that kind of touch enough to recognize it. He would be something, with a touch of discipline. With a hand to guide him.

And Wash might prefer less than perfect, anyway. A bit of fight, a bit of spice. That's always a little fun. ]

That so? [ Some amusement in his tone, this time, and it's mostly genuine. Byerly does know how it's going to end, and yet. Playing along. Too stubborn to back down, or something else, something deeper. How long has it been since he's had someone to really force him to his knees, he wonders. ] Such a sweet thing.

[ Maybe he can play a little more. ]

Give me a safe word.

[vorrutyer]

[ A flicker of curiosity, uncertainty, in his eyes. As experienced as he is (because, indeed, he is experienced in this; I don't do that has not always been true, he was a younger agent once who didn't know his limits and he had experiences both good and bad back when he wasn't doing this for money and patriotism but simply for fun) he hasn't ever really encountered that. It's the sort of thing that floats around in enlightened and sex-positive cultures, on Beta Colony and Escobar and even Cetaganda, but Barrayar is full of brutal screwing where neither party really knows what they're doing and won't talk it out before and won't talk about it afterwards. It's one of Byerly's advantages, how he knows a little more and will do a little more and doesn't blush when he talks about things; it gets him in and out of the beds of the perverse and the curious.

But that doesn't mean he really does know that much. He's the one-eyed man; all others are blind. That's all.

And so he keeps up his teasing, sensual massage, rubbing at Wash's erogenous spots, and pitches his voice so that he still sounds sexy instead of naive and clueless. Or, well...Hopefully sounds sexy as well as being naive and clueless. ]

And that is...?

[protocol]

[ It's a good attempt, Byerly.

Especially with the way his voice shifts, the way his hands keep working, he is good with that, isn't he, knows how to watch someone for where to push, where to press, where to touch. Wash's expression doesn't change much, just watching him quietly, with that same mild interest, with something dark and definitely aroused still in his eyes -- that isn't the worst possible answer. It's worse to pretend you know when you don't. It's not like Wash is opposed to teaching people, he prefers those with some fucking idea of what they were doing but sometimes you can't be too picky, and as long as they're willing to actually listen to him, he might be able to work with it.

Not this time, though. Playing a little more had just been. A weakness, anyway. A little too tempted, Byerly is good at that, it's his goddamn job. He smiles a little, actually leans closer, lets his fingers twist a little harder through his hair as he pulls his hand from Byerly's, curving his fingers under his jaw. Almost as if studying him. Looking for something. ]

Cute.

[ A tilt of his head, and he presses his fingers right against Byerly's lips, pushing him back as he lets go of his hair. His tone flattens a little, back to his normal register, now -- but it doesn't quite lose that air of authority, and there's definitely some amusement, in his tone, as he traces the shape of his mouth. ]

You've no damn idea what you're doing with this.

[ And then he pulls his hand away entirely. Thanks for playing, Byerly. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ And Byerly sits back himself, letting out a breath that's mingled frustration and annoyance. ]

No. I don't know the rules of the game as you play it. It's played a certain way here - don't get high and mighty because it's not what you think is best.

[ He rubs his mouth, then, feeling a sharp stab of regret. God, he wants a fuck. He wants a brutal hard fuck, wants to suck someone off, wants to choke around a hand on his throat. He wants a slap across the face, a belt across his back, someone hard and cruel driving all the thoughts out of his head. He just can't stop thinking. He wants something so intense, so breathless, that he'll stop that. But, sure, Wash wants to play, wants his game, and so he won't be that. Byerly can deal. No one who's faked whiskey-dick as often as he has is driven entirely by lust. But it still stings, and it simmers.

I'm desirable, damn it all. I deserve this. I deserve something good after all I did. I've earned something more than just Vorkosigan's contempt and the camp's hatred and a feeling that I did something very wrong. ]

So what is it? If you can get your dick out of that high horse you're on long enough to speak.

[protocol]

[ He doesn't care how it's played here. He's particular about how he plays it. Wash is calm, though, not reacting much as Byerly snaps out of the moment -- such a quick change, he was being so sweet just a moment ago. He might sympathize a little with his frustration, because ah, if that were him, he wouldn't want to be wound up that way, either. But Byerly did start it, really. And Wash did even remind him, partway through.

Wash really would've gone further. ]

If it's a game, then it's a risky one. One that needs rules in place. That's all that's about -- making sure everyone's on the same field, at least in some sense. [ Just tipping his head slightly, as he watches him. ] I'll always ask for one, the moment there's anything actually dangerous involved.

[ So yes, he was thinking of doing something like that -- though he usually asks long before that point, too. ]

It's you jamming on the brakes. You draw the line, you set the limit. I'll only ever stay within it. Because going through the trouble of discussing all that beforehand isn't always practical, and because sometimes something unexpected happens, it's best to have a signal in place where you can tell me if something's wrong.

You can get pissy with me about it, if you want. [ He won't exactly hold it against you, not too much, at least. He shifts where he's seated, curving a hand over his own wrist, flexing his hand slightly. It's interesting, that trick of his. He swears he can still feel it. ] But it's really in your best interests. In an environment where no, please stop tends to mean the opposite, it's useful to have something that actually does mean no.

[vorrutyer]

Oh, don't misapprehend.

[ A small, thin smile. There's nothing indeed in his face of the previous desire - not that he doesn't still feel it; he can't just shake that off. It still surges through him, persistent as real physical hunger. But a fellow who would, back in his lean days, prioritize wardrobe over food is able to learn to ignore hunger. A fellow who regularly humiliates himself - deliberately, for profit and patriotism - can ignore the sting of wrung-out embarrassment. He doesn't enjoy any of it, though, and that makes his tongue perhaps just a little sharper than it needs to be. Particularly when he'd gone in knowing full well what was going to happen. ]

It's a lovely notion. And I'm always for more safeguards to protect consent. It sounds like a very Betan thing, and I adore Betans, you know.

[ He settles back a bit. ]

What's making me pissy is that you just, once again, pulled the shit that you pulled with Miles, even after our talk about it. You got a bit uncomfortable, and so it immediately became I'm stopping now because you're dangerously ignorant, there's a fault in you instead of I'm too nervous to go on. That's quite fucked, Washington.

[protocol]

[ He pulled the same shit he did with Miles in more than that regard, even. He really needs to learn to back down from simple challenges like that. It's sharp enough that it does sting, a little, and he's a little raw from that bit of exposure that's just happened, not quite on guard enough to hide it fully, there's a set to his jaw, something flickering in his eyes. He bites it down. ]

A lot of things about me are pretty fucked. I thought we'd established that much. [ Just kind of dryly. ] It's not exactly mutually exclusive, besides. More of I'm stopping because you don't know what you're doing, because I don't feel like guiding you, and I'm too nervous to go on.

I would've stopped eventually, anyway -- even reminded you of it. I didn't exactly have to do that.

[ Though that's a bit of a lie. He might've gone on, he could've gone on, he doesn't know, now that the moment's passed. There and then he'd wanted to push it a little further. Play a little more, god it's been a while, but if he'd actually gone that far and with Byerly being as good as he was, he might've kept going. The reminder was mostly for Byerly's benefit, genuinely, and also a little to dig in, to see if he really would beg anyway even knowing what was likely to happen -- but if he's honest, it was a reminder for himself, too. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ The smile goes just a bit less brutally sharp at that flicker in his eyes. But only a bit. ]

The reason I like you, in spite of the fact that you're a haughty asshole, is that the things that are fucked about you are largely self-directed. But this is corrosive and vicious. And obviously I don't give a shit about Miles, he can handle himself, but that sort of thing simply irritates me.

[ And then - ]

Why are you nervous?

[protocol]

[ The things that are fucked about him are, in fact, largely self-directed. But there's a whole lot of it that happens because of things that have happened to him that are considerably less self-directed. He answers readily enough. ]

Because there's such a thing as going too far.

[ He's always been insanely careful, because he learned to think of himself as dangerous far too young -- but he wasn't always this stringent or disciplined about it. Still, though, he latches onto something else, there. ]

You like me, now?

[vorrutyer]

[ Ah. Shit. He honestly hadn't intended to say that. His gaze drops, flicks over to the side, embarrassed. And then he shrugs, and draws broadly - ]

I've always liked you, Wash. [ And then, moving right along - ] And - going too far. How do you imagine that happening, exactly? Me, huddled and frightened, too overwhelmed and delicate to speak up in my own defense? Or...?

[protocol]

[ Now that's new. Makes him a little uncomfortable, even, the way Byerly's clearly embarassed when he says that. Something easily faked, honestly, but.

He'll come back to that. ]

People have their limits. Most don't realize what they are until they're actually right up against them, and even then plenty don't like admitting it. Too far is anything from leaving a visible scar, to a bit too much pain, to knocking someone unconscious.

You're being sarcastic, but huddled and frightened and too overwhelmed happens. Some people want that. Some people don't.

[vorrutyer]

[ A pause as By examines Wash. After a moment: ]

Washington, I'm a trained intelligence asset whose assignments are frequently of the honeypot variety - not always, or even the majority of the time, but often. Before I was recruited to that job, I supplemented my income during lean and desperate times by screwing people for money or just for access to their kitchens. Sometimes brutal people. I have no doubt you're absolutely astonishingly sexy, that you have these inborn skills that more than make up for your relative lack of experience. I'm sure I'd be absolutely wowed and go wild with your sheer ability. But do you really think the fact that we don't have safewords means I'd be helpless?

[ He holds out his hands demonstratively. ]

Tie my wrists.

[protocol]

[ A little flatly; ]

Not the point.

[vorrutyer]

[ A sigh, and Byerly subsides a bit with a bit of disappointment. It's a good trick, the untying-himself trick. He doesn't get to show it off very often - it's not exactly something you pull out at parties. It's the problem with all the neat ImpSec skills: they have to be kept secret from nearly everyone. ]

So what is the point?

[protocol]

[ Wash just watches him for a moment, maybe faintly amused by that disappointment in his expression, but mostly he's just kind of irritated, annoyed. Not because of Byerly not getting it, exactly, but because now he's in a position of explaining it, and he just. It's another touch too much to give away when Byerly's gotten so much already.

He relents, after a few moments. Mostly because they're trading, right, and he already has something to press on, later. ]

It doesn't matter if you can get out of any rope I tie you down in. It doesn't matter if while I'm choking you, you're trained enough to be lucid and conscious enough to do something like knee me in the stomach, or if you know how to disarm me even when I'm the one with a knife. The point is that you shouldn't have to rely on those things. You shouldn't have to rely on anything -- but me.

The point is for that surrender to be not just voluntary, but absolute.

[ For the control to be absolute, and honestly, more importantly? For the trust to be absolute. That matters to him. That's why he does this, even more than the thrill of inflicting pain or squeezing the air from someone's throat -- even though of course it's not like they play small parts. The trust just matters, most of all. ]

I'm sure you're very good at untying yourself, though.

[vorrutyer]

[ The wry annoyance fades from By's expression as Wash talks. He gives a short shrug when he says that, confirming - ]

Good enough that they had me run a special course on it for other informants. So, yes.

[ Which he says casually - though, truthfully, there hadn't been anything casual about that. He'd been so fiercely proud when they'd asked that of him. He likes being good at what he does. He likes it more than anything else in his life.

A moment, then - ]

And do you find that's actually the case? That random fucks you pick up in bars willingly trust you with their lives?