Tommy opens after a few seconds, the lock audibly clicking off before he opens the door. He wordlessly lets him in before locking the door again an walking over to a dresser where he's got a few glasses, a bottle of whiskey.
Steve steps inside, letting Tommy lock the door behind him, not particularly concerned or put off by the action. Instead, he just stays put, taking a look around the room before he smiles a little at the offer, nodding. "Sure, if you don't mind sharing it."
While he waits for Tommy to pour, though, he figures getting right to the heart of things is probably the best approach. So, "I realize that a month isn't very much time, all told. But if there's anything you think I can do for you, that's what I'm here to do."
Admittedly, steer clear and pretend we aren't paired is not really going to fly. But he wants to hear what Tommy wants out of this, if anything. Tommy's one of the few people on board that Steve actually respects the way he'd respect his father, and that maybe colors his judgement - and his behavior - a bit.
He gives him the drink before he even answers, and then sits down in one of the chairs.
"You know what, people keep telling me that. That they can do something for me. What is it you people think I might need, exactly?"
Through it all, Tommy's never really lost his respect for his fellow soldiers, but it's different now that Steve is more or less his babysitter. He doesn't need to treat him the same way.
"Do they?" Steve sounds mildly interested, actually - that's generally his approach, but in a way, it's good to know that other people are taking it as well. After all, in his opinion, the wardens are here for the inmates - or they should be.
When Tommy sits, he does too, mostly because looming over the guy isn't polite and it isn't going to put him at ease. As for the question, he actually shrugs a little. "I don't know, honestly. That's sort of why I ask. I sure hope it's nothing from the Admiral, because I'm not your guy if it is."
Still, "An ear, maybe. Someone to talk at, or talk to." Of course, as soon as he says it, he sort of snorts a quiet laugh, because people tell him he needs that, and screw them. He imagines Tommy might understand that in a way people from the 21st century don't. So, "Someone to rail at, maybe. Someone to make sure you're not dead at the end of the day. I hate to tell you this, pal, but graduating is ninety-nine percent your job. I'm just here to help you figure out how, because I don't want you stuck on this boat any more than you maybe want to be here. I take that one percent pretty seriously."
That's the only question he has right now. He highly doubts that Steve wants to be gone just as much as Tomy does, and it makes anger rise slowly in him to think of it-- a warden saying that, even one who's desperate, doesn't come close to an inmate saying that.
Needless to say, he isn't interesting in talking to him, or railing at him. He'll ask about that little jab at the Admiral in a bit, though, because that doesn't sound like the Steve he used to know.
Well, that's an easy one. Steve's smile is very dry when he says, pretty immediately, "I don't have one." That's pretty much the long and short of it, but he's through asking the Admiral for things, big or small. He's tried to make deals in the past, tried to make them deals that benefitted others, and not himself, only to have them ripped away via fine print and loopholes, and he's done with it.
"I came back for Lark. I'm here until he goes, or until I get a permanent inmate and they go, whichever happens last." He tilts his head, taking a sip. "Unless, of course, the Admiral decides he doesn't want me around anymore, but who the hell knows why he does anything he does."
"It sounds like there's a story there," he says, as he shifts in his seat to dig out a silver cigarette case. He raises his eyebrows as he sticks a cigarette between his lips, prompting Steve to tell it.
Steve laughs, but it doesn't sound like he's particularly finding the situation funny. "Yeah, I guess there is. Before I graduated T'Pol, I went through two deals the Admiral either flat-out wouldn't grant, or let slip through the cracks because of a loophole. I watched the same thing happen to Bucky, because his first deal wasn't anything the Admiral ever needed to grant, and the bastard never bothered saying so."
He shifts in his chair a little, glancing up at Tommy. "I know he's done great things, helped people's entire worlds." Like Furiosa. "But I don't want anything a shifty bastard like him is selling. I didn't get a deal for T'Pol. I've never gotten a deal. And I don't plan to change that, this time around. Lark's what matters to me. You're what matters to me. Getting the inmates out of a system that's crumbling into pieces from the top down is what matters to me."
Now that-- that, he hadn't expected. Lark hadn't mentioned this at all, which makes him frown as he tucks his lighter back into his pocket. Lark hadn't mentioned Steve's dedication to him, nor his anger over the Admiral. This is useful, so useful, but most of all it's surprising.
Steve Rogers apparently changed from a boy scout to something far less polite somewhere along the way.
Steve doesn't maybe advertise the fact that he's pretty much here for Lark, but he's not trying to hide it either. He's not that kind of guy. It's also why he's maybe not trying to hide his disdain for the Admiral. There's no point in beating around the bush.
He has been through a lot. He's learned that suffering in silence when you think something needs to be said can be as bad as collusion. And he's not afraid to stand up and say, No.
"I want this ship to do what it was meant to do," he says. "Technically, that means it should be empty, or at least emptying out on a regular basis. Instead, we're too busy fighting amongst ourselves or being thrown into the Land of the Dead or forgetting where we came from." And... "Yeah," he says, quietly. "I wouldn't complain if the Admiral was gone. He's not the guy I think should be in charge."
Tommy, in a gesture of good will, throws Steve both his cigarettes and his lighter at that. He knows a good opportunity when he sees it, and he knows he can bind him to him more now than he could have before.
Steve's not generally a smoker - when he was, it was asthma cigarettes, out of necessity. But it's not like he's got anything against the habit, really, though it's been a while since he's had a cigarette. Still the motion's pretty much ingrained, so he cocks a little half-smile and lights one up, sliding the case and the lighter back across the table when he's done.
"I don't know," he has to admit honestly, shaking his head. "Just someone better than him. Someone who doesn't give people chances, then snatch them away again by sending them home and prohibiting those that are left from even making contact, from stepping in and helping where he won't. He might be powerful, but that doesn't mean he's running the system the way it should be run."
Steve leans back, taking a drag, considering how that sounds. "That's one way to do things," he muses, after a moment. "But that's sort of the same thing as staying silent and backing the Admiral, isn't it?"
He's not that kind of guy. He doesn't walk away from a fight that's worth fighting. And he doesn't take orders from people he doesn't respect - doesn't trust.
At the same time, he's not naive enough to come right out and say he wants to do something, or at least that he wants to do it soon. He doesn't expect Tommy to necessarily be opposed, but then, Tommy's changed, too.
"Rogers, don't try and pretend you don't have a plan. I know soldiers, and I know you, and I know you've got something brewing in that thick skull of yours," he points out, literally gesturing at him with his cigarette.
Steve has to smile a little at that, but he shifts again, leaning on his elbows on the table. "I don't have a plan, I have a goal," he points out. "I have no clue how to get the Admiral out, but I can't back him. I won't back him, and I won't pretend that I do."
He glances at Tommy and smiles a little more, though it's still wry. "And I'm still here to help you. I believe the system can work. I believe there's a reason you're here, and that reason is you deserve the chance to fix whatever went wrong. I guess I don't - actually know what that is," he admits. "And you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. But you deserve to go home. You deserve the chance to try."
"I died while I was trying to save my son from the hands of a sick fuck," he tells him, and that's far from the whole story, but it's the part of the story that matters. It doesn't matter to Tommy, not when he can't stop thinking about his son being taken by the Odd Fellows, by Father Hughes. It doesn't matter, when he was trying to save the one last good thing in his life.
"I don't need a chance. I need to go home to save my boy."
Part of Steve isn't sure that is the whole story, but it is the part that matters, yes. "Then we need to get you home," he agrees. "But there is a reason you're here."
If he still believes in anything, it is the reason people are here - that something needs to change, so they can be the people they need to be back home. He still believes in graduation, but he wants to make it easier, make it a better process, and stop the Admiral from fucking changing his mind halfway through.
"So we figure out what it is, and we solve the problem, and we get you home. Can you tell me more about what happened?"
"In four years? No. I can't tell you what happened. If I knew what it was, I wouldn't need a fucking warden."
He knows that isn't true, or at least he's come to realize that in the past few weeks. But he's so used to doing things alone, and besides that he's so angry that he's here in this capacity that it's hard to really accept help.
Okay, then. "So we figure it out together. I've never believed I needed to be assigned to somebody to help them," Steve puts in, because he has believed that from day one. "But that's why I think there are wardens - because sometimes it takes an outside perspective, even if you're the one doing the work. You don't need to do it alone, even if you have to put in most of the effort. That's why there are wardens. That's why there should be wardens. We're not better, or right where you're wrong. We're here because inmates need that different point of view."
That's what he believes the system should be. It can work. It just needs a chance.
"What I need," he says, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and leaning in. "Is to know that my son will be alright. I lie awake at night and I can't stop thinking about it. Even if time stays still, I can't-"
He clenches his jaw and tensely stubs out his cigarette, immediately picking up a new one.
"It was the wrong time. If it had to happen at all, it shouldn't have happened then."
Steve's never had a son, of course. He's never had much of a family - except for Bucky. And he knows that if he were in Tommy's seat, if this were about Bucky... he'd feel the same way. He has felt the same way.
"I know," he says quietly. "I know that time standing still isn't much consolation. If - you think taking me along will help, then you just need to ask." He knows that probably isn't much consolation, either, but he means it. He genuinely means it. "If nothing else, you've got the time to figure out how to get him out. You should use it."
Steve knows what it's like to be willing to sacrifice for someone else, and he knows that you don't get to know if it'll work. But you hope it will.
Things are different, here. Now, Tommy has to sit and wait and see, and if he's lucky, maybe someday he will. It's not fair, and it's not right. He can still too easily put himself in Tommy's place. "Then we get you home, Shelby. We get you home, alive, and we make sure your sone gets out alive, too. But railing at the walls isn't what's going to get it done." Not that he thinks Tommy thinks it will, but. That's what they're doing at the moment, and it definitely doesn't get things done.
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[True to his word, it's only about ten minutes before Steve shows up, knocking politely when he does.]
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"Alright?"
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While he waits for Tommy to pour, though, he figures getting right to the heart of things is probably the best approach. So, "I realize that a month isn't very much time, all told. But if there's anything you think I can do for you, that's what I'm here to do."
Admittedly, steer clear and pretend we aren't paired is not really going to fly. But he wants to hear what Tommy wants out of this, if anything. Tommy's one of the few people on board that Steve actually respects the way he'd respect his father, and that maybe colors his judgement - and his behavior - a bit.
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"You know what, people keep telling me that. That they can do something for me. What is it you people think I might need, exactly?"
Through it all, Tommy's never really lost his respect for his fellow soldiers, but it's different now that Steve is more or less his babysitter. He doesn't need to treat him the same way.
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When Tommy sits, he does too, mostly because looming over the guy isn't polite and it isn't going to put him at ease. As for the question, he actually shrugs a little. "I don't know, honestly. That's sort of why I ask. I sure hope it's nothing from the Admiral, because I'm not your guy if it is."
Still, "An ear, maybe. Someone to talk at, or talk to." Of course, as soon as he says it, he sort of snorts a quiet laugh, because people tell him he needs that, and screw them. He imagines Tommy might understand that in a way people from the 21st century don't. So, "Someone to rail at, maybe. Someone to make sure you're not dead at the end of the day. I hate to tell you this, pal, but graduating is ninety-nine percent your job. I'm just here to help you figure out how, because I don't want you stuck on this boat any more than you maybe want to be here. I take that one percent pretty seriously."
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That's the only question he has right now. He highly doubts that Steve wants to be gone just as much as Tomy does, and it makes anger rise slowly in him to think of it-- a warden saying that, even one who's desperate, doesn't come close to an inmate saying that.
Needless to say, he isn't interesting in talking to him, or railing at him. He'll ask about that little jab at the Admiral in a bit, though, because that doesn't sound like the Steve he used to know.
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"I came back for Lark. I'm here until he goes, or until I get a permanent inmate and they go, whichever happens last." He tilts his head, taking a sip. "Unless, of course, the Admiral decides he doesn't want me around anymore, but who the hell knows why he does anything he does."
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He shifts in his chair a little, glancing up at Tommy. "I know he's done great things, helped people's entire worlds." Like Furiosa. "But I don't want anything a shifty bastard like him is selling. I didn't get a deal for T'Pol. I've never gotten a deal. And I don't plan to change that, this time around. Lark's what matters to me. You're what matters to me. Getting the inmates out of a system that's crumbling into pieces from the top down is what matters to me."
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Steve Rogers apparently changed from a boy scout to something far less polite somewhere along the way.
"You want him gone. You want this ship empty."
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He has been through a lot. He's learned that suffering in silence when you think something needs to be said can be as bad as collusion. And he's not afraid to stand up and say, No.
"I want this ship to do what it was meant to do," he says. "Technically, that means it should be empty, or at least emptying out on a regular basis. Instead, we're too busy fighting amongst ourselves or being thrown into the Land of the Dead or forgetting where we came from." And... "Yeah," he says, quietly. "I wouldn't complain if the Admiral was gone. He's not the guy I think should be in charge."
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"And who should be?"
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"I don't know," he has to admit honestly, shaking his head. "Just someone better than him. Someone who doesn't give people chances, then snatch them away again by sending them home and prohibiting those that are left from even making contact, from stepping in and helping where he won't. He might be powerful, but that doesn't mean he's running the system the way it should be run."
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"And then you're getting-- me, or any fool you've gotten attached to. And then you leave."
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He's not that kind of guy. He doesn't walk away from a fight that's worth fighting. And he doesn't take orders from people he doesn't respect - doesn't trust.
At the same time, he's not naive enough to come right out and say he wants to do something, or at least that he wants to do it soon. He doesn't expect Tommy to necessarily be opposed, but then, Tommy's changed, too.
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He glances at Tommy and smiles a little more, though it's still wry. "And I'm still here to help you. I believe the system can work. I believe there's a reason you're here, and that reason is you deserve the chance to fix whatever went wrong. I guess I don't - actually know what that is," he admits. "And you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. But you deserve to go home. You deserve the chance to try."
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"I don't need a chance. I need to go home to save my boy."
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If he still believes in anything, it is the reason people are here - that something needs to change, so they can be the people they need to be back home. He still believes in graduation, but he wants to make it easier, make it a better process, and stop the Admiral from fucking changing his mind halfway through.
"So we figure out what it is, and we solve the problem, and we get you home. Can you tell me more about what happened?"
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He knows that isn't true, or at least he's come to realize that in the past few weeks. But he's so used to doing things alone, and besides that he's so angry that he's here in this capacity that it's hard to really accept help.
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That's what he believes the system should be. It can work. It just needs a chance.
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He clenches his jaw and tensely stubs out his cigarette, immediately picking up a new one.
"It was the wrong time. If it had to happen at all, it shouldn't have happened then."
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"I know," he says quietly. "I know that time standing still isn't much consolation. If - you think taking me along will help, then you just need to ask." He knows that probably isn't much consolation, either, but he means it. He genuinely means it. "If nothing else, you've got the time to figure out how to get him out. You should use it."
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He can't know. Knowing that he had a plan isn't enough. He's an empirical man, and he needs to see, needs to know, before he can really believe it.
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Things are different, here. Now, Tommy has to sit and wait and see, and if he's lucky, maybe someday he will. It's not fair, and it's not right. He can still too easily put himself in Tommy's place. "Then we get you home, Shelby. We get you home, alive, and we make sure your sone gets out alive, too. But railing at the walls isn't what's going to get it done." Not that he thinks Tommy thinks it will, but. That's what they're doing at the moment, and it definitely doesn't get things done.
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