"Eek!""!!!" Zell's soul damn-near jumped out of his body. He almost fell over.
"Zell.""Christ Almighty, woman, I'm having a heart attack," He shook his head in shock as he gripped his chest, back against the column. "How the hell did you... can
you teleport!?"
In the end, he laughed. It was funny. But he was now acutely aware that MacKensie did in fact make zero noise when moving around. He even recalled previous moments in their time in this world. She was like some super assassin. He recovered his original position, leaning his shoulder against the column and folding his arms. "Got it done, eh," he said to her. "Gold contract. Wasn't easy, but we got weeks of adventurer work done in four days. Source Comm, here we come."
When she posted up on the opposite side of the column, he smiled. Two badasses, yin and yang, looking into the night, talking through a wall. It was kinda cool.
"What are you doing out here? You should be resting your injuries.""I should," he had to concede. Stab wound in the abdomen. Nasty bubbling scar developing on the shoulder, from the ghost blade that nearly cut his arm off. A rest would tie him over until he could pay a visit to that Tiefling,
'Ms Devil Doctor' from Valhiem's magic hospital. Oh how proudly he would show off being back so soon.
Take it slow, she said. He grinned to himself.
I'm Zell fucking Brooks. Take it slow, like fuck I will. But back to the current conversation. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tired."
They traded a couple of short stories about how they got their injuries. Zell complimented her on her tenacity. And, he suddenly remembered, "Holy shit, doll. Back in that library. I was busy dealing with my own particular brand of pain-in-the-arse. But I clearly remember seeing you burst from a wall of fire like a god-damn phoenix, machine gunning down bad guys in mid air." Zell let out a breath, shaking his head as he stared sightlessly into the dark. "It was glorious - Serving them that 'MacFlurry.' If I wasn't avoiding getting my head chopped off, I would've given you a standing ovation."
A comfortable silence fell on them for a minute.
"How are you feeling?"Zell guessed she was talking more than injuries now. Perhaps the emotional weight of the job. Maybe just general morale. Or anything bothering him? Didn't matter. Zell would answer the same way to her as to anyone in the group... except maybe James.
"Bloody fantastic, sweetheart," he replied casually. "I'm having so much fun. Just saved a bunch of towns from a demon-thingy. The Heroes from the Sky are at it again." He grinned. "This is a damn sight better than being at Uni, studying Psychology and..."
Managing a miniature drug empire."...roll call for football training." That was a close one. God help his chances of securing this drinks date they'd been flirting with if
Ms Stiff-as-a-Plank found out he was selling everything under the sun at City, London University. "To be honest, MacKensie - and this is gonna sound pretty mad - but I'm over the whole 'getting hit by a bus' thing. Truly. I'm a pretty simple guy. Adaptable. And I'm here now, dealing with it. And I can live with that.
Especially with you around."
He let that last sentence marinate. So far, it had all been banter between them. A bit of honesty from him was past it's due date. "I still want answers though. Ending up in this weird world was no accident. And I've got a fair few questions for whoever has the answers."
On top the tiredness, pain made him check his injuries. James had done a great job, but blood still stained his bandages, and there was no magic cure for soreness, it seemed. He really did need to lie down. Like, now.
"Thanks too," he admitted. "For blowing up at me on the temple roof, this afternoon. With great power comes great responsibility. Sounds pretty damn cringe, but it's true." The cringe was worse than the actual physical pain. "Being a hero ain't half bad. I'll try and take a little bit more seriously." And of course, he couldn't help himself and added, "A teeeeeny little bit."
"How about you doll? You doing alright?" he asked, trying to stop his voice from softening - failing a little at the end, but back to a strong and cocky tone as he continued. "You manage to stop overthinking that problem of yours?"