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Who: Gordon, Ziio
What: They go fishing.
Where: The rivers leading to Kraken Lake
When: Backdated to Monday, June 30th

Let's go fishing, he said. It would be a nice way to spend an afternoon, he said.

As Gordon stands knee-deep in the river, clad in a pair of trousers alone, soaked from several slips and self-dunks already and hefting a long spear, he starts to consider what he'd actually expected when he thought of that. A nice lazy afternoon lounging by the riverside, with plenty of beer and considerable alone-time with her.

Really, he should have known better when he saw her smirk at the suggestion.

Letting another wriggling shilouette fall still a foot away from his front leg, he slowly pulls back his arm, and--

PLUNKK, kerPLOSH, burbl...

"DAMMIT." His reclamed seat on the river bed is not as comfortable as it sounds, and his head turns to Ziio. "I'm... not even sure what the hell happened, that time."

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"True enough," Ziio agrees. "Our worlds are different and you've needed a different strategy for where you came from. However, this is not your home. Survival instincts without technology would benefit you. If I can survive by way of them, then so can you."

Although she is willing to wager that she could outlive him easily simply by how she grew up with the others of her people. Perhaps. She can't say entirely she knows what to expect in his homeworld. She can likely just as easily be obliterated, but she wants to think that isn't the case.

His jaw tightens as he thinks about this. She's right. On a particular level, he'd always considered that if anyone else had been though what he had, they would have done exactly what he had to. If Collette or Gina or Judith had been in the test chamber back at Black Mesa, then it would have been them that made it out, survived zombie wave after zombie wave, swam though coolant tanks and toxic residue, blasted apart tanks and a two-thousand-meters-tall tower of oppression, and became the Big Damn Hero instead. It was the HEV suit that made that all possible; same suit, different person filling it, right?

But hell, maybe that's not the case. Maybe he's actually got better instincts than most, and now that the adrenaline and morphine is out of his system he's having trouble listening to them.

"Okay... What do you suggest I do?" He asks.

She's momentarily surprised by his question. It's a heavy one and her expression briefly shows how he catches her off guard. Her honest opinion... Her... guidance? Shouldn't he just be doing what he wants to be doing, or what he thinks is imperative? Except no, he's asking because he genuinely wants a piece of her mind. If he didn't care, he wouldn't inquire.

Consequently, she doesn't reply immediately. There's weight to the situation that she hasn't completely factored in yet. Considering the reality of things, impending destruction and inevitable danger, it wouldn't be hard for one to lose the other. There's something to be said about making every second count.

It's with that thought in mind that she approaches him to close the distance between them. "Practise. Training. What any other person would do. Tread with enough caution to keep yourself alive, but enough recklessness to keep the enemy on his toes." She wants him alive. But she wants him to hold onto that Big Damn Hero ego of his.

"..."

He considers this for a moment. It's a simple answer, the same advice maybe anyone would give. He'd been focusing on that carbon-and-ceramic juggernaut shell and how to better use it, because he didn't think he had any reason to focus on himself and what HE can do. Yet Ziio always managed to find a way to challenge him while stripped: of tech, of armor, of everything. He glances at the spear in his hand.

Now, don't get me wrong. Part of his brain, a particularly spongy and testosterone-stained part, had always wanted to impress Ziio. Now it thinks it has a notion how to, and clings to that with every synapse it can spare. His lips curl into a smile as he glances up at her again.

"Good advice."

Is he serious? Once more he catches her. She has no immediate response. But the features in her face soften and she settles a hand upon her hip, shaking her head modestly. She has no need for his compliments. Has she ever had much of an ego? Yes, perhaps. There's some arrogance coursing through her veins, but it's always backed up by fact.

"What is that look for? You act as if you've figured something out." Her smile turns a little sly and she continues, "Care to share with the rest of the class?"

Because what good is teacher humour when it's limited to a classroom? Whatever the case, she imagines he'll appreciate that she has a sense of humour finally.

"I think I've figured out the problem. I thought it was the suit, but... before now I've always had a squad of soldiers or a hoard of zombies on my ass for survival instinct to mean anything to me. The only time I've ever used them have been in insane life-or-death situations; this is pretty damn peaceful by comparison, squid ink notwithstanding, and the impetus to perform just isn't there. I don't need self-confidence in my skills, I need a reason to rely on them."

She cocks an eyebrow. He's got a valid point. It's something that she had been caught up in when she first arrived. It was easy and convenient to get lost in the muck of things. Surviving a normal day-to-day life gave her some meaning to her life.

He sounded a lot busier than she had been. At least busier after she had Connor. Before... it was a hard contest.

"I see... I'm unsure of how I will be able to help you with just such a thing," she admits somewhat quietly.

He reaches out and brushes the backs of his fingers against her chin. "Just being here is enough."

She challenges by her very nature. That was what he thought he didn't need, but it's turned out to be the very thing he did. The hand freezes and he grows still, eyes darting to the water beside them. His spear arm drifts back and lets fly with a visceral splash of contact.

He glances to her, and goes to retrieve the spear and the Rip Van Vish at the end.

"Well. What do you know?"

~~Did he just stab a sleeping fish? He just stabbed a sleeping fish.~~

Her gaze almost immediately moves off of him and onto the speed in which his arm darts forward and the spear along with it. He's quick. It's impressive. When he shows her his bounty, she wears a bit of a smaller smile, characteristic of her.

"What a shame. That fish interrupted us. But I suppose it had to be done at some point. I knew you'd be capable of it."

~~Shhh don't tell him Ziio, let him have his moment.~~ He drinks in the compliment and lowers the spear, closing the inches between them and lacing fingers in her free strands of hair for a brief moment.

"I'm a fast learner... when I want to be. How many more do you think we'll need tonight?"

She doesn't stop him. In fact, she doesn't say anything immediately either. In some ways, she's changed. Grown softer around him, though she'd never admit to it aloud. In other ways, she feels as if she's just the same. The woman to regard him with utter composition and calm. Untouchable and touchable at the same time.

"Hm," she finally begins as she looks down to his catch. "Depends on how much you want to eat. Anything we do not have tonight, I can dry. It will save for some days, I think."

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