View source for Logs:Even my close friend, someone I trusted, one who shared my bread, has turned against me.

{{ Logs
| cast = [[Joshua]], [[Leo]], [[Lily]]
| summary = "... are we talking about Halim Tawadros?" (set soon after [[Logs:Somebody That You Used To Know|Joshua having an unfortunate reuinion]].)
| gamedate = 2024-04-18
| gamedatename = 
| subtitle = 
| location = <???> ''Big Deck Energy'' - Presumably, in the Ocean
| categories = Joshua, Leo, Lily, Big Deck Energy, Private Residence, Mutants
| log = 

What time is it here? Where is ''here''? Not important; it's evening in New York. Probably not late ''enough'' evening to be drinking cheap whisky straight from the bottle, but when Joshua appears on the deck of Leo's ship he's got an open bottle in hand already. He looks kind of a mess -- hair mussed, kippah askew, shoes untied -- but doesn't seem wobbly enough for the ''booze'' to be accounting for this. He's just dropping down into the nearest open seat, resting the bottle on one knee. Kind of ''groaning''.

Wherever ''here'' currently is, it's balmy, pleasant, with the faint glimmer of sunrise just starting to peek up over the endless expanse of ocean. Time, circadian rhythm, any kind of human ''schedule'', these have all maybe become meaningless in the past months, and Leo looks neither like he's just up from ''or'' planning to head to bed any time soon. He's in daisy yellow short-sleeve button-down with a subtle windowpane pattern and cigarette-cut black jeans, the remains of Chinese takeout that definitely did ''not'' deliver to Wherever Here Is on the table. He's just slipping his phone back into his pocket and ''has'' been telling his companion, "-- should be here, soon, I --" when Joshua simply appears. He blinks, looks down at the bottle, looks over at Joshua. "-- think," he's doggedly finishing his sentence, and then: "Long -- night?"

<s>Dinner</s> <s>breakfast</s> mealtime over, Lily ''has'' been nursing a beer for a while, but though her bottle is still half full she's gone off to fetch another one while Leo was texting. She's in a short-sleeved florals-on-black boilersuit and black Crocs sandals, green-black keffiyeh draped over her shoulders like a shawl. Her hair is buzzed down to just a soft fuzz over her scalp, slightly longer on the back of her neck and damp with sea spray. When Joshua appears, she glances at the bottle ''already'' in Joshua's hand, then up at his kippah, and sets the beer back into the case. Rummages for a moment through her bag instead, before returning to the table with a flask and a thermos bottle. She slides into the seat across from Joshua and sets both in front of him. No question here, though there is quizzical concern in her expression.

"Ngh." Joshua takes a slug from the whiskey and then sets it down on the table. He's propping his elbow there, head dropping forward and his fingers scrunching into his hair, but he straightens again so that he can take the thermos without question and open ''that'' for a swallow. The quite obvious tension in his posture and scrunched expression are somewhat reflexively bleeding out in the presence of these two; he looks from Lily to Leo and down to thermos and when he exhales, the hard clench of his shoulders is let out together with the heavy breath. "S'getting better."

Leo glances to the leftover Chinese, his brows pulling slowly together. He's fidgeting small and uncomfortable and it's a ''reasonable'' bet he's on the verge of apologizing for not having prepared kosher food in the 0.5 seconds he knew he was about to have a visitor, but he presses his lips together and manages to refrain. He looks to the small gleam of approaching sunlight and takes a sip of his own beer. "Well. The night ''is'' ending. What..." He trails off, looking at Joshua with a deepening frown as if he might suss the information out just by long enough scrutiny. Unsurprisingly, this doesn't work. "What happened?"

Lily’s looking at Joshua’s bottle again. At Joshua. Back to the whiskey. " -- full-bottle-of-whiskey level of fucked up, huh." Slowly, she starts tugging the keffiyeh off her shoulders.

"Ngh." At least Joshua isn't ''immediately'' taking another drink. He is taking the time to resituate his kippah more properly and clip it back in place. "Ran into an old friend. Was pretty unexpected. He is slouching back in his seat now, following Leo's gaze out to the horizon. "-- ''thought'' he died in the labs. Decade ago."

Leo's eyes open a little wider. "Oh! That's --" Whatever thought he ''was'' having is instantly arrested by another look at Joshua. His hands squeeze tight against his beer. "-- not? Good? Was he still -- where was he?"

Lily’s brows are furrowing together, fingers scrunching against the black tassels of her keffiyeh as she balls it into her lap. "...Is he -- good, okay..?" Another look at Joshua's face, and  Lily changes tack -- "Or you guys aren't. Good."

Joshua lets out a sharp hard breath; ''kind'' of a ragged laugh despite the pained contortion of his face. He's picking up his whiskey again and taking a small swallow. His knee bounces restlessly, jiggling at the bottle once he's dropped his hand again. "Fuck. I don't know. DC? Near DC. Probably the fucking. Pentagon." He is grinding knuckles hard against his eye. "I don't know where he's -- how long he. Fuck. He used to be on my damn ''team''. ''Terrifying'' goddamn hacker. And now he's some fed who -- doesn't even -- remember me."

"Fed?" Leo's brows crease. His thumb scrapes against the side of his beer bottle, picking lightly at the edge of the label. "You aren't -- in danger, are you?"

"--Fuck," Lily breathes. "I'm so sorry." She stands up, uncrumpling the keffiyeh, and goes to Joshua's side. It's tricky to drape the cloth over his shoulders without actually touching him, but Lily tries anyway. "Guessing it was a shitty reunion."

Joshua lifts a hand to grip a corner of the keffiyeh and squeeze it gratefully. "I --" His brows knit like this might be the first time he is considering whether ''he'' is in danger. "-- don't know." His fingers work slowly into the keffiyeh, crumpling its edge in a tight squeeze. "Fuck. It was a long time ago. Probably a lot of three-letter agencies who'd give a ''big'' paycheck to a strong technopath." He shakes his head, pressing his forefinger and thumb hard into the hollows of his eyes. "Just. Hard to imagine -- Halim was a fucking weirdo but he was never -- ''hngh''."

Leo's mouth thins, his brows knitting deeper. "The labs change many of us. I'm -- sorry. If he doesn't remember you, is -- is that -- did they --" He picks a little harder where the label on the beer bottle is starting to pull up. "Is ''he'' in danger?"

Lily slumps back into her seat, reaching for her beer and swirling it by the neck. She nods slowly to ''three letter agencies'', to ''technopath'', but at ''Halim'' she freezes. Snaps her gaze up to Joshua. "... are we talking about Halim Tawadros?"

Joshua just groans again at this question. Takes another swallow of his whiskey and drops his head back to stare up at the lightening sky. He slumps a ''little'' further down in his seat. "... you've met."

"You've -- met?" Leo, at least, is looking initially confused by this coincidence before he catches the rest of the way ''up'': "Oh, no. Lassiter?"

"Mmhmm." Lily gives her beer a mournful look before setting it down and reaching for her (as yet unopened) flask. "Met during testing. He was on my side of the glass." She unscrews the top. Screws it back on. Off again. "He was still in the system as a -- labrat. Subject. Inmate. But on payroll, too. Like Elie." Her eyes squeeze shut.

Joshua scrunches his eyes tight. "Well, fuck." His leg is bouncing again, jittery, faster. "Guess we get to see what comes ''after'' Prometheus sooner than later."
}}