#;Devan1

[ashton-ryder]

// int. atrium to apt #306 - day. 8th april. @thedevilworksharder

The moment Sada and Jeremiah and their gang left, tensions seemed to ease off in the atrium, if anything at least alleviating the immediate threats of death. Devan had immediately kept his eyes on the entire group here and specifically on Ashton more so than the rest. He was basically out on supervised bail and even he knew the imminent end for himself. Sada wouldn't pass of the opportunity, well, she even picked out a cell for him already.

Ashton continued help in the area, the reality starting to set in as he completely numbed himself earlier from the shock of who's dead. Mr Wexley, Lane.. Ashton numbed himself with the shock again, not wanting to break down from it all. They worked in silence until everyone was instructed to head back to their apartments for a lockdown. Ashton just wasn't sure if he'd be allowed to go to his. Sada's words might have sounded like mercy but none of the actions speaks it as so. They were pretty much the last ones left, Ashton rigidly standing there as if waiting for a begrudging order. He met Devan's gaze, cold and unemotional to steel himself from whatever they have planned. "..do I at least get to go back to my apartment before you lock me away?" Ash asked the other without much hope, as much as he wanted to make full use of the additional time Jer squeezed in for him. Loose ends to tie, things to settle, things to hide before the regime took over and he no longer owned anything as his.

[thenfl]

Minnesota Vikings: @devan1e closes out the win. #SEAvsMIN...

rawchili.com

[ashton-ryder]

The exasperation mellowed into simply confusion, Devan confused him in the changes in tone, the discrepant actions to his biting words, and now just the weird shift into friendliness, Ashton found it hard to follow their line of thought, didn't help that Ash was currently on the defensive for the situation he was in right now. What did he even mean they're gonna need that fire? "Doubt you'll be able to use it," motion between them again, reminding him of where they stood right now, and where Ashton stood right now. He might have fire now but he knows they're about to turn off the gas.

"That's rich coming from the reality that most of us are about to lose our agency right now," it was grumbled but it held no animosity to the other person, "not you maybe, everyone else." The irony of agency being forced into a cell. Ash moved around his room, cleaning up papers, putting a few important things away as Dev continued. "I could," Ash coldly mused the idea, if he flexed the right muscle memory from a few years ago, there was a confidence in taking them down, "but where does that leave me?" Words dissolve back to the sobering facts. There were always consequences to your actions, if Ashton kills or subdues Devan here, then what? There's nowhere to go, the building was still surrounded and even if he could leave, he'd never leave the people here behind, "where does that leave the people I care about?" Even more so when they people he cared about were all by her side.

Others will pay for the consequences of his own actions, they always did. Why else Ashton had always been careful with his actions and decisions ever since comrades paid his consequences with their lives, keeping in mind not what would happen to him, but what would happen to those around him. He weighed his options of whatever fucked up agency Devan thinks he has right now, shackled by his own morals, and bonds, and love. There was nothing smart about the play they were offering him. "..just get it over and done with, wherever this fucking cell is."

Devan lets Ashton go on and simply watches him; there's no apologies, no surprise, no shock nor defensiveness. No counterattack to anything Ashton says. Just a calculated look in their eyes considering him, before nods slowly, letting out a chuckle. They clap the man on his shoulder and squeezes, like one might a close mate. "Aye, s'good, mate. Better hold onto that fire now, we're gonna need it."

It's gonna be a long, hard fucking battle, that's for sure, and whatever Sada has planned—which they haven't been informed on and most likely won't be either—Ashton's battle will be a step harder. Devan pats the back of the man's wet head almost affectionately as he poses the question of choice. "Always got a choice in anythin', mate. Better not forget it. Agency's all we got left in this world." He gives Ashton a casual shrug. "You could kill me. Might even take pity an' not try my best t'kill ya back." He leans closer with an air of mischief. "Y'know I got keys. Could be a smart play for ya."

[ashton-ryder]

It sounded like a threat as first until they went on, naming Sada, themselves, Devan sounded more like a karma incarnate ready to douse retribution to those who deserve it. If Dev knew the blood on his past hands, even if for good reason on bad people, Ashton's time might've been expedited. He's been trying very hard to leave the art of war all behind him but the claws of the end of the world only seem to dig further into him and pull him back.

His skimming over the question of the actions of the raiders didn't escape Ash, filing that suspicion away for a future reference. "You think I haven't done shit? Ask all the dead raiders that," Ash had to bite back at his words, blues darkening to a cold bone-chilling gaze he hasn't had since he left the marines. Did they know the amount of violence it took to become this soft? Ashton was always someone to quietly get things done alone, no one needed to know, the beach's massacre was the only loud event of killings Ashton had gotten into. Quiet altercations and run ins with raiders while he was out on runs alone or with Zach, keeping an eye out on imminent threats before they became a problem, taking out raiders from the rooftop through a sniper scope that had been trying to take a stab at breaking into the building. Ashton knew the threats, and he eliminated them when or even before they crossed a line. Still, there was no need to prove to Devan why the Wexley building haven't even been infiltrated or been under attacked all through winter till now, at least, not until today from the fucking inside.

Despite the tension that quickly rose, it also quickly dissipated, silence cracking through with Devan's sigh and Ashton looked at the clothes offered to him. "..If I come out of it," he's not stupid, he knows that's a possibility, and Devan would too if he knew Sada as well as it seemed. But even then there was something there, an offer for something in the future. Retribution - not revenge -, retribution honestly sounded good. For the beach, for Ruth, for Aggie. "..Deal." Ashton took the fresh clothes to put them on, grabbing the washed ones now clean from blood to hang over the shower railing, a sleight of hand unassumingly straightening out the clothes to hang dry.

"I'm guessing I don't got a choice right now, do I?" Ash walked out of the bathroom to make sure the state of the rest of his apartment was okay, things that had been hidden prior were still hidden, simply assuming Devan would follow him and watch like a hawk, worth a shot asking if any other deals could be made to get himself out of Sada's grasp. Jeremiah had bought him some time but his own hands were tied with what he could do with it right now without further consequences.

There's no hesitation to answer the very first question. "You'll get yours," Devan assures him, promises him, keeping an unwavering eye on the man. "N'so will Sada, if it's the very last fuckin' thing I do." One could call that a breach of loyalty, a kink in the armour of what had seemed like a united front, but Devan has told Sada this time and time again. I'll be the last face you see before I send you back to hell. Not a threat. A promise. A reassurance. Punctuated by a kiss on the cheek. Sada Vang would die and Devan would have a sure hand in it, one way or another.

"N'so will I." Whatever monsters are in the world that Devan intends to kill, he has never not counted himself among them. Perhaps they have all the intentions of a good person and perhaps their heart truly beats righteous, but they've never denied the simple fact that they're a monster killing monsters, and their name own will be the very last one on the list. He's not exempt from his own rules and righteousness, and he has always been aware he's been living on borrowed time; every hurt caused willingly even to those deemed monsters, every soul sent down to the bowels of hell, every drop of blood staining his hands a taint that has seeped into his soul, a sin that cannot be forgiven, and once those sins become too much and he can no longer differentiate himself from the monsters, that's when it's his turn.

"We?" Devan repeats with a snort, raising his eyebrows. "Did Wexley tie your bollox into such a noose that ya couldn't have done shite before the eleventh hour?" They reach out and hold the clean towel out to Ashton; even now, there's no reason to not be human to one another. "What was it? 'Violence ain't the solution'? 'Cause it often is. Or was it fear? Or thinkin' he was protectin' anyone but his own damn people?" Same coin, different sides.

Devan shakes his head in exasperation, going to pick up the clothes he'd set down on the sink for Ashton. There's a pause, hands resting on the fabric as they look at the folded pile, thinking, considering. With a sigh, he turns back to the man, voice softer, kinder this time, no accusation in his voice. "She has a will of her own, mate. But you're gonna come out of it. An' when ya do, I'll be there an' we'll go to hell together." He holds up the clothes. "Deal?"

[ashton-ryder]

Ashton didn't agree with Dev's reasoning with working with Sada. The costs were just too high. Neither did his morals aligned with her, all she cared about was her and her people, everyone else can just get fucked. And obviously her people won't complain, they'll be well taken care of, no problems there. The rest of them? Who the fuck knows. Ashton worried for their people here, and if he could be used as a scapegoat to keep Sada's attention away from hurting the others, so be it. He'll hold on until she got bored, or he dies, one or the other. "So do we need killing then?" Did Mr Wexley needed killing? Ash asked directly, wanting to know where the hell Devan Mccahill stood on who they're targeting. What constitutes the need for death.

"That's not what I meant," Ash cut in, the way they looked at him accusingly. Anyone that knew Ashton knows he holds his own moral codes up to a fault, he's not one to stand by when people are wronged and bad shit happens - which is probably exactly why he's in this fucking position right now, to make sure he can't do anything while bad shit happens. "I just wanted to know what other fucked up shit they've done. From what I do know, most of them are sick, probably don't deserve the air they breathe." Gather intel on the enemy, find a weak point, and strike. Aggie deserved the justice of knowing they're gone for good and can't hurt her anymore. Ruth keeps reassuring they didn't do anything to her but Ash had his doubts. He stuck his head under the shower head one final time washing over the soap and soaking in the privilege before he can't have this ever again.

If anything Dev was right that they're all on expiring time, just depends how long or short. Ash takes the towel to dry and wrap around his waist before turning to Devan sitting in front of him, "then what are we gonna do about it?" As if opening an opportunity for something to be discussed there, a signal to being open (if he ever gets out of this shit of a mess) to doing something about the raiders, as if they were discussing a problem and working on scientific theories to solve it. Except Ash was pretty sure at this point he was on borrowed time already.

If he were a lesser person, lesser conviction, perhaps the surprise in Ashton's look would've stuck with him. Devan is well aware what these people associate Sada Vang with, he's spent the past few weeks sussing out dynamics and integrating himself within social relationships to figure out opinions and ideas, and by proxy, allying himself with someone like her, they'd look at him with the same mistrust as her. But it doesn't really matter, and just because he treats Ashton with human dignity and doesn't have anything personal against the man, he still is among Tobias Wexley's crew. The man who was so focused on keeping his people safe and hoarding power and resources while leaving the rest of this city's survivors as a distraction at best.

"I know exactly what kind of person Sada Vang is," Devan replies evenly to whatever veiled accusation the man steers towards him. Or perhaps it's simply a warning. As though they haven't known Sada for going on a decade now. What should that say about the state of his conscience? Knowing what a vindictive cunt like her might have in store for someone like Ashton, and simply letting it happen? "She's an absolute fuckin' cunt with a cruel, sadistic streak who has ambitions to overthrow God." That's about it, isn't it? "But she also wouldn't stop me from killin' everyone who needs killin', 'cause she knows who I am just the same."

With the question that follows, it's Devan's turn for surprise, but a somewhat annoyed version of it. "Done to me?" The words are repeated in disbelief, followed by a snort. "Absolutely fuckin' nothin'. Not to me." Devan gets up, eyeing Ashton. "Why? People need to do somethin' t' you personally for ya to do anythin' 'bout a situation, mate?" Would make a lot of sense. "Ya cross a line'n a devil's gonna be waitin' for ya. Their ticket's punched. You'n I, ours will come with time just the same."

[ashton-ryder]

Ash let out a muttered thanks once more seeing clothes and towel provided, a surprise in knowing that was all they really did. As if having expected someone under Sada to have rummaged through his shit and turn the place upside down for weapons and supplies and pure spite for destruction. But perhaps Devan at their core really isn't someone under Sada.

While he wasn't embarrassed or shy, Ash can't deny that it was unnerving being watched this way. The fact that his rights to privacy had been stripped away, that he's not trusted to even shower away from guards. The feeling of prisoner, way before he was even locked up. But he reminds himself that being able to come back to his home wasn't something Sada probably would've allowed. He tried to ignore and face away from Devan's obligatory gaze, focusing on washing his face, hair and body while the blood ran down the drain.

Ash hadn't notice the shift in Devan having turned towards the wall, but he paused after his face was clean, listening into the other's answer, and he turned back to Devan, eyebrows raised to their un-minced words that genuinely was intriguing. "Hm, the raiders here? I see the appeal," while the raiders from Long Island had been the ones causing the most direct grievances and annoyance; Aggie, the boat, the hostages. But that didn't mean Manhattan hadn't had their own groups of menaces. Ashton had taken note of that group awhile back, guess now named Central Park from Devan, supply runs purely steering clear of them to avoid a clash. But perhaps if he clashed with them earlier, how much sooner could he have found Ruth? "Don't see why you needed to go through Sada for it. Seems more hassle than she's worth," Ash gestured to their current awkward predicament of such additional t&cs, pretty sure a bunch of them here would've helped if they just asked, "care to share what they've done to you to warrant torture and death? Not that they don't deserve it." While he fully agreed that the raiders deserved it knowing what they've done, somehow Ash is going down this same fate for simply existing. But he doubt they were as petty as the woman they made a deal with.

If Devan heard Ashton's protest, he doesn't appear to pay them any mind, heading to the bedroom as indicated. Clean underwear, clean sweats, clean shirt, he gathers it all after also collecting a clean towel and heads back to the bathroom. The clothes are placed on the side of the sink and the towel is slung over one end of the rod of the curtain, as far from the spray of water as possible. With that, Devan sits himself down on the lid of the toilet, just watching the other man.

Whatever they let anyone think of them—a horn dog, a flirt, always one sexual innuendo away from making things uncomfortable—none of it is apparent on his face now. Instead, he just watches Ashton with slight boredom in his expression. It's not even that the man isn't attractive; that's not the thing. But in this moment, he doesn't have to pretend to be dumber than he is, or more single-minded. Well, maybe he is single-minded, but not for something as trivial as sex. No, he watches Ashton because he's asked to, hands folded between his knees.

It's Ashton's question that elicits a slight change in posture and expression, however. Something akin to surprise hearing JP's name from the man's lips in context to him. Huh. Interestin', John-Paul. The expression disappears in a minute flicker, though, the disappearance punctuated by a shrug. The mask has come off and the pretence is no longer needed. His true motivations had never really been a secret, it was simply that in order to get to his goals, he had to help Sada, and he's done that now.

"Gonna torture'n kill the Central Park leadership," Devan told him, as frank as though telling him what he's planning for a weekend off work. "I need people for it, Sada's gonna provide 'em."

[ashton-ryder]

He sighed at the response a little bit of a scowl, at the idea of Sada making him babysit Ash, right down to bath time. But Ashton's been in the marines for way too long for it to really bother him on any embarrassment scale. At same point it had been a rite of passage for bonding with brother in arms being completely comfortable butt naked around each other living in such close quarters but this doesn't seem like a way to bond with Devan. But still, he watched Dev makes his way to the bathroom, they've been here before simply reading books together and it now seemed so far away.

Ash watched the other keep their eyes on him even as the water began to run, and after a silent beat of annoyance, Ashton shrugged a whatever and began pulling off his sweater, carefully over the shoulder that still ached. Walking over to the shower, he began peeling off his clothes, assuming he wasn't allowed to leave Dev's sights, until all his blood stained clothes were in a pile in his hand. "..thanks," Ash murmured watching him leave the bathroom, he wanted to contemplate his options but at this point, he just stepped into the shower first, excepting the one warm thing still willing to embrace him without hesitation, without judgement.

"Wardrobe, bedroom, but I can grab it myself either way," Ash's words barely went over the sounds of water. He let his clothes sit on the shower floor to give them a wash at the same time. While he was getting rid of the muck, the awkward silence proven an opportunity to ask Devan things, "so why are you really here? If not because of JP." A subtle note that Ashton knew the thing between them, JP told him earlier on and at first Ash didn't really see much of an issue, perhaps until today, depending on the answer they gave him, not like he's now in any power to do anything about it. But he's curious nonetheless.

Just as Ashton is eyeing him up to assess how he could eliminate him, Devan is eyeing Ashton up, but for an entirely different purpose. Thing is, Devan isn't here for safety and protection. He was trained on the streets, knows how to survive on the streets, and feels more ill at ease in a building with supposed protection than he would out there. No, they are here for a purpose, for an army, with a goal. Soldiers is what they needed out of Sada, and if they'd help her overthrow the leadership in the building, by moving around in the shadows and snaking his way in and around heads, then she would use her newfound authority to give them what they want.

That's always been the way the pair has done business—by creating a win-win, two birds with one already bloodied stone.

Of course Devan notices Ashton sizing him up, considering the assumed or perceived imbalance in skill between them, and it tells him more—or something entirely different—than it does Ashton, undoubtedly. "Was asked to keep an eye on ya, mate," he replies to the question, very careful in his choice of words—asked, not told. He's not Sada's dog. "Regardless of your state of dress." Without so much asking for directions, Devan heads to where he knows the bathrooms are located on this floor—having thoroughly studied and memorised the blueprints located in the caretaker's office—and goes to turn on the shower for the man, holding his hand—caked with blood as well—under the water to gauge the change in temperature, still keeping his attention, if not his gaze, trained on Ashton. There are less moving parts in this apartment, less things to split his vigilance with, so he didn't need his eyes right now to keep an eye on Ashton; his other senses would fill in the lack of visuals just fine.

When the water gets a temperature that's bearable for showering, Devan pulls his hand back and shakes the excess water off. "In ya go," he says with a gesture. "I'll go grab ya a clean towel." Like they're close friends, like he's doing the man a favour, like he's taking care of him. But they don't have anything against Ashton, that's the thing. There's nothing in them that will prevent them from treating Ashton like a human being who deserves the dignity of a warm shower and the day-to-day small kindnesses of picking up dirty clothes and looking for clean ones. This truly is nothing personal. The only reason he's not doing what he can to remove this man from the clutches of a vindictive, cruel, sadistic devil is because... well... his goals are simply bigger than the pain and death of one man.

But perhaps there's something that he could work with. "Where do ya keep your clothes, mate?"

[ashton-ryder]

Ashton was surprised by the easy fight he fought for that right, blinking at the lack of resistance to the idea. "..okay," Ash shrugged along with them, beginning to head up towards his apartment, testing the limits as Devan follows him, gaze never leaving Ashton even for a second. He was good at his job if nothing else. "Right.." Ashton responded to his threat, not exactly threatened, perhaps more thrown off by the naming of the exact muscle, knowing where it would truly handicap him, as did Ash understood. If nothing else, it told Ash that Devan knew what he was doing. But it didn't phase him in the slightest. He was certain he could put up a very good fight, subdue him even if he needed to, but what good was that going to do? Ashton saw no viable route forward even if he hurts him and makes a break for it. "Nothing personal huh." Ash only murmured as a well of ruminating on that statement. He hadn't figured out himself what was Devan even doing here with her, the man hadn't let anything slip.

Ashton unlocked his apartment door, still taking off his shoes at if he came back home like nothing happened, moving on to do what he hoped to do. "I just want to get the god damn blood off me," he explained easily, it was the truth, the blood on him had started to dry. Taking a step to the kitchen sink to just wash he hands, no weapons there. In full view of Devan's ever watchful gaze. "A shower. Are you even gonna watch me then?" He snorted focusing on scrubbing the blood on his hands, Charlie's blood, Roman's blood, Jeremiah's blood, even if he didn't spill it, it hurt to have it on his hands. as if he did. He wasn't there for them when they needed him earlier.

There's already something stirring in the pit of Devan's stomach, an impatience, a restlessness that they are able to wrap a fist around and squeeze to keep it from lodging into their mind. The moment Sada had put him in a babysitting position, Devan had made a mental note to talk to her about this particular arrangement, but at the time, hadn't otherwise argued with her direction; the arguing would come in private, away from eyes and ears he doesn't trust, 'loyal' or otherwise.

No, his babysitting of Sada's #1 enemy—curious, that, something he hasn't bothered to ask her about yet—had not been on his list of goals, and it takes everything in him to not look annoyed or bored or even frustrated about the matter. Sada knows Devan doesn't give two fucks about the Wexley, who is or isn't loyal to whom, and any sort of punishment, warranted or otherwise. But they'd fulfil their part of the deal, and part of that would be to shadow Ashton's every movement, never once taking their attention off the man while using the (hyper)vigilance trained into them to stay aware of their surroundings still.

Ashton's question directed at him is met with a raised eyebrow. Sada hasn't given him specific directions beyond supervision, and he knows she trusts him to make smart and calculated decisions. So Devan shrugs, nonchalant, fingers in the pockets of his jeans. "Aye, sure," he replies in a surprisingly amicable manner, "but if ya plan on bringin' any sort a weaponry, mate, I'm cuttin' your flexor pollicis longus in both arms." He pauses. "Nothin' personal."