( Nate beats him to the life-size statue of Admiral Nelson by several minutes -- mainly because it's impossible for him to immediately break away from work anymore. There's an entire detangling process that involves convincing himself to stop one step at a time, and that everything's going to be fine if he picks back up whatever he was doing later.
At any rate, he shows up with a box full of junk on a hand cart, because he doesn't do things half-way. )
Hey, man.
( That pleasant greeting comes after Ian's already kindly, casually thrown a water balloon at him.
Well. Balloon might be a strong word, but the effect is the same.
He's being helpful. This is science. You're welcome. )
[ Nate isn't sure why he hadn't thought of it before - probably because he hasn't used those skills in about a year, and barely just honed them in Hadriel before the Null attacked - and now that he's got the opportunity to explore the possibilities he's overeager to do so. If Lance has his magic, there's a decent chance Nate might as well.
It would soothe the sting of losing the empathy bond, at any rate. ]
He- hey-
[ Ian lobs a soft projectile in Nate's direction and he swings to one side as it whiffs past and pops on a rock. Water spatters his boots. ]
[ His voice squeaks out, and the question is accompanied by a dubious lift of his eyebrows. It remains to be seen that Ian will actually help, rather than just take some absurd amount of joy in pelting Nate with projectiles, but honestly whatever serves as effective stress relief should be sufficient. Even if he can't do what he thinks he can do, they'll have spent some time together.
So Nate gestures at the hand cart, anticipating a wide variety of bruise-worthy objects. ]
...sorry, you can start again. I'm a little rusty on the- well, you'll see.
( Time spent together has become a rare and precious commodity. He's been busy, he's been busy-busy. Up early, asleep late, breaks infrequent and personal time spent trying to build them a nice, fancy hole in the ground. Taking on a little too much in New Amsterdam might've been one thing, but it doesn't compare to this -- or to the stress he's been wearing in his shoulders and the lines around his eyes, still detectable through his amusement now. )
Rusty. Right.
( He agrees pleasantly, indulgently, so very sincere -- right before he chucks what looks like the world's ugliest, brown-est baseball at him.
It's not a bad throw, but there's some clear I'm throwing a projectile at my partner hold-back on the velocity. No offense, man, he's sure you can dodge bullets. It's just instinct. )
Not so much that Nate is suffering for it, by any means, or at a loss as to what to do with himself, because he can always find ways to keep occupied, but...it's a little bit akin to the way he himself would retreat into work, the way Elena would retreat into work once grasped by it. Unsustainable in the long term but perfectly acceptable for the time being, with all pistons firing. But bring it up again? Nate doesn't have that kind of death wish. ]
Yeah, su-
[ Okay, so he might have underestimated the enjoyment Ian is deriving from this, but Nate had ample seconds to try and remember how it feels to throw a palm up in front of him as though he intends on catching the ball.
Ample time to reach for something he thought was gone and watch as the air seems to wobble in front of him briefly, and it hits a solid wall of nothing before falling to the ground.
( Expecting it and seeing it are two different things. He chucks the ball, he watches its momentum stop before it ever crosses into Nate's personal space, and his mind takes a half second too long to comprehend it.
As soon as it locks into place, there's a lurch of relief somewhere deep and private inside him.
Nate had powers before, he knows. Flipping the statistics on dice rolls isn't anything to scoff at, it's just intangible math beyond Ian's ability to calculate when thinking in terms of Nate's safety.
This is way more solid. This is something he can factor in a little more concretely.
Back in New Amsterdam this might've come with jokes, with a matching lightness like that night on his couch when everything felt bright. Now it comes with an immediate sharp, discerning curiosity. )
[ There's that sudden sharpness, a methodical sort of interest that Nate was counting on. His grin widens mischievously, and he gestures at the cart of stuff with a nonchalance that should honestly be disconcerting. ]
You know, [ Nate begins slowly, ] I never got to really test it? I learned how to cast it and then we got thrown into a guerrilla warfare style fight with a bunch of robots, so the parameters are a little...sketchy.
( It is disconcerting, thanks. Particularly when coupled with that cavalier explanation, and... you know, he's not surprised but that doesn't exactly mean he's happy about it. )
I'd like to pause and take a moment to point out how you're saying that sentence like it's a normal... sentence. It's not a normal sentence. I think it's important to, you know, keep sane person reality in mind from time to time.
[ It's a fair and accurate callout. Doesn't mean Nate has to like it, but it does add - a bit - to the pile of things he isn't sure he should tell Ian, strictly for Ian's sake. How does one begin to explain the logistics he arranged in that jungle, the gauntlet he ran to disarm the Null's ships, the number of times he "died" in Hadriel just to come back and hit them harder?
Better to just swivel his gaze around without making eye contact, somewhat pointedly looking at their very unconventional surroundings. ]
Uh...okay. Reality noted. Are you gonna throw a brick at me before an alien Pteranodon picks me up or what?
( Ian would have a fair few things to say about the list of stuff Nate's keeping from him for his own good, but he's also a total hypocrite. Surely these communication issues won't lead to any conflict later.
Don't think he doesn't clock that turn, Drake.
Rather than answer, he chucks a hunk of what looks an awful lot like crystal -- straight from the magical dragon itself, irreverent as hell, aiming for Nate's chest. )
You're gonna be hoping for the Pteranodon.
( A mild, completely (probably) unfounded threat. )
Anyway, I don't think throwing stuff at you is really gonna teach us anything. If we wanna gauge size and force... I'm pretty sure we're gonna have to go a little Harry Potter. Have a wizard duel in the alien jungle.
[ Nate shifts quickly, jerking his palm up again in a sharp motion and the same invisible shield manifests in front of him. The chunk of rock pings off of it and spins into the earth. ]
A wizard duel.
[ Taako told him about these. Something about honor and petty grudges and just "wanting to dunk on people sometimes, you know?" It would be a good opportunity for Nate to see if the rest of those spells still work, or how much rust he might need to shake off.
Maybe an appropriate time to demonstrate that he's not helpless. ]
( Hilarious that out of the two of them Nate thinks he's the one that has to demonstrate he's not helpless.
Ian also doesn't know the first damn thing about wizard duels other than he's pretty sure they usually involve wands or Balrogs, neither of which he has. Rather than point it out, though, he opts to continue his catch 'em off guard bullshit. Half a shrug, a twitch of an eyebrow like what can you do, and then six feet of rock and dirt lift off the ground like a wave in front of Nate, aiming to cover him.
Seems like as good a place to start as any, right?
Also, in hindsight, maybe something he should have strted practicing before now -- offensive matter-bending. Mental note to work on that for the future. )
[ Nate was anticipating, perhaps, something a little less immediately violent than a massive piece of earth, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. They have to take the dirt they're given and be grateful.
All he has time to do is brace himself, throwing up the shield again as the mass plows into him. It feels akin to being hit by a car, dense, rich loam and gravelly bits crushing past and scraping his elbows, so he tucks them in tighter and hunches behind the only cover he's got while loose soil spills down the back of his shirt.
Boots pressed firmly into the ground he manages not to lose his balance but comes out the other side blinking owlishly at Ian, reluctant to lower his hands.
He looks a mess, like he went rolling through the underbrush and slammed himself against every tree along the way. ]
( So, he tries not to look smug. He just doesn't try very hard. Showing up on this planet wasn't really the start of Nate expressing his doubts over how well Ian could handle himself, but it's definitely become way more relevant. Feels a little gratifying to get Mr. I dodge bullets for lunch off his game. )
You look good dirty.
( He says with a shrug, as though it's some kind of explanation. )
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nate →
( Nate beats him to the life-size statue of Admiral Nelson by several minutes -- mainly because it's impossible for him to immediately break away from work anymore. There's an entire detangling process that involves convincing himself to stop one step at a time, and that everything's going to be fine if he picks back up whatever he was doing later.
At any rate, he shows up with a box full of junk on a hand cart, because he doesn't do things half-way. )
Hey, man.
( That pleasant greeting comes after Ian's already kindly, casually thrown a water balloon at him.
Well. Balloon might be a strong word, but the effect is the same.
He's being helpful. This is science. You're welcome. )
no subject
It would soothe the sting of losing the empathy bond, at any rate. ]
He- hey-
[ Ian lobs a soft projectile in Nate's direction and he swings to one side as it whiffs past and pops on a rock. Water spatters his boots. ]
Really?
no subject
Would've been really cool, though. Damn you Nate, and your sexy intense reflexes. )
I'm helping.
( He supplies, you know, helpfully. Does he have more in the box?
Maybe. Along with some other stuff. )
no subject
[ His voice squeaks out, and the question is accompanied by a dubious lift of his eyebrows. It remains to be seen that Ian will actually help, rather than just take some absurd amount of joy in pelting Nate with projectiles, but honestly whatever serves as effective stress relief should be sufficient. Even if he can't do what he thinks he can do, they'll have spent some time together.
So Nate gestures at the hand cart, anticipating a wide variety of bruise-worthy objects. ]
...sorry, you can start again. I'm a little rusty on the- well, you'll see.
no subject
Rusty. Right.
( He agrees pleasantly, indulgently, so very sincere -- right before he chucks what looks like the world's ugliest, brown-est baseball at him.
It's not a bad throw, but there's some clear I'm throwing a projectile at my partner hold-back on the velocity. No offense, man, he's sure you can dodge bullets. It's just instinct. )
no subject
Not so much that Nate is suffering for it, by any means, or at a loss as to what to do with himself, because he can always find ways to keep occupied, but...it's a little bit akin to the way he himself would retreat into work, the way Elena would retreat into work once grasped by it. Unsustainable in the long term but perfectly acceptable for the time being, with all pistons firing. But bring it up again? Nate doesn't have that kind of death wish. ]
Yeah, su-
[ Okay, so he might have underestimated the enjoyment Ian is deriving from this, but Nate had ample seconds to try and remember how it feels to throw a palm up in front of him as though he intends on catching the ball.
Ample time to reach for something he thought was gone and watch as the air seems to wobble in front of him briefly, and it hits a solid wall of nothing before falling to the ground.
Nate immediately lights up. ]
Hey!
no subject
As soon as it locks into place, there's a lurch of relief somewhere deep and private inside him.
Nate had powers before, he knows. Flipping the statistics on dice rolls isn't anything to scoff at, it's just intangible math beyond Ian's ability to calculate when thinking in terms of Nate's safety.
This is way more solid. This is something he can factor in a little more concretely.
Back in New Amsterdam this might've come with jokes, with a matching lightness like that night on his couch when everything felt bright. Now it comes with an immediate sharp, discerning curiosity. )
How much can it handle?
no subject
You know, [ Nate begins slowly, ] I never got to really test it? I learned how to cast it and then we got thrown into a guerrilla warfare style fight with a bunch of robots, so the parameters are a little...sketchy.
no subject
I'd like to pause and take a moment to point out how you're saying that sentence like it's a normal... sentence. It's not a normal sentence. I think it's important to, you know, keep sane person reality in mind from time to time.
( Guerrilla warfare, Nate? )
no subject
Better to just swivel his gaze around without making eye contact, somewhat pointedly looking at their very unconventional surroundings. ]
Uh...okay. Reality noted. Are you gonna throw a brick at me before an alien Pteranodon picks me up or what?
no subject
Don't think he doesn't clock that turn, Drake.
Rather than answer, he chucks a hunk of what looks an awful lot like crystal -- straight from the magical dragon itself, irreverent as hell, aiming for Nate's chest. )
You're gonna be hoping for the Pteranodon.
( A mild, completely (probably) unfounded threat. )
Anyway, I don't think throwing stuff at you is really gonna teach us anything. If we wanna gauge size and force... I'm pretty sure we're gonna have to go a little Harry Potter. Have a wizard duel in the alien jungle.
no subject
A wizard duel.
[ Taako told him about these. Something about honor and petty grudges and just "wanting to dunk on people sometimes, you know?" It would be a good opportunity for Nate to see if the rest of those spells still work, or how much rust he might need to shake off.
Maybe an appropriate time to demonstrate that he's not helpless. ]
Someone's feeling cocky.
no subject
Ian also doesn't know the first damn thing about wizard duels other than he's pretty sure they usually involve wands or Balrogs, neither of which he has. Rather than point it out, though, he opts to continue his catch 'em off guard bullshit. Half a shrug, a twitch of an eyebrow like what can you do, and then six feet of rock and dirt lift off the ground like a wave in front of Nate, aiming to cover him.
Seems like as good a place to start as any, right?
Also, in hindsight, maybe something he should have strted practicing before now -- offensive matter-bending. Mental note to work on that for the future. )
no subject
[ Nate was anticipating, perhaps, something a little less immediately violent than a massive piece of earth, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. They have to take the dirt they're given and be grateful.
All he has time to do is brace himself, throwing up the shield again as the mass plows into him. It feels akin to being hit by a car, dense, rich loam and gravelly bits crushing past and scraping his elbows, so he tucks them in tighter and hunches behind the only cover he's got while loose soil spills down the back of his shirt.
Boots pressed firmly into the ground he manages not to lose his balance but comes out the other side blinking owlishly at Ian, reluctant to lower his hands.
He looks a mess, like he went rolling through the underbrush and slammed himself against every tree along the way. ]
I didn't know you could do that.
no subject
You look good dirty.
( He says with a shrug, as though it's some kind of explanation. )
If you need me to go easier on you...