Teddy's focusing hard on the signing; she knows if the talk gets more complicated she's gonna have to switch back to speaking to fill in, and maybe ask Numbers to, which annoys her. There's no reason that a couple of weeks of crashing back into a language she barely learned a few years ago plus the handful of words she's since practiced or asked how to sign, she should be fluent. But the whole reason she took the class was so that she'd be able to use it. She hates -- and generally simply doesn't tolerate -- not being good at things. It's just worse that it happens to be communication.
Still, at least both Wrench and Numbers are signing slow and clear, even if Teddy feels like an idiot -- it makes it easier not just to recognize the words they do know, but to put together the ones they don't from context. Over where, they're trying to see if he clarifies, because the question is really are they all on the same street, and if they are what does that mean -- but Wrench cuts him off with a decisive no sign.
Teddy furrows their brow; Numbers looks equally startled and then a little annoyed, but they're not sure if he's confused about the same thing or not. Is that firm no in response to what Wrench had quickly signed to him, or about finding anything else out? To Teddy's own question about the street?
She knows woke up; she doesn't know gun or knife but the sign for gun, at least, is pretty self-explanatory. Knife loses her briefly because it looks enough like can't, but the other parts, the flow of the sentence, the and, Numbers agreeing and repeating: she figures it out.
And then he kind of shuts himself down, a little. Teddy can't find it in themself to blame him, even if it is a little like telling everyone to shut up. They've felt that way since they got here, sort of. They catch Wrench's eye and repeat back, hastily, an aside to make sure, You -- both -- have your knife and gun? Right? I don't know all the signs.
They add, thinking by talking, Three of us: three guns, two knives, Scout. It's not bad. They're suddenly and uncomfortably reminded of the effect of hunting ammo on human skull, and they take a breath in. Or...maybe it's very bad. Whatever the hell Teddy had expected when they woke up in a negligee in a strange bed in a strange house with a picture of themselves marrying a tall stranger: it wasn't needing an armory almost immediately. The fact that all three of them do have weapons and experience using them doesn't make them feel secure that it's not going to come back up.
Then Numbers is back and signing. The sign for twiddling your thumbs is more of a mime than anything else, and the expression, filtered through Numbers' annoyance, would have relaxed her nerves if the gist of what he says next didn't kind of piss her off and weirdly sting. Teddy rolls her eyes and spreads her hands with a clear what the fuck am I supposed to do about that shrug.
"Me?" she says aloud, signing at the same time with the attendant facial expression. "You two wanna go, go. I'm not..." she fails to find a word, spoken or signed, and just lifts her hands away and up, frustrated and done. She shakes her head, crossing her arms across her stomach, dropping her eyes.
"I wasn't exactly fixin'a wake up some man's wife in suburban hell, you know," she says after a moment, still looking at the ground. It's rude of her; she knows it, too. But it's not meant for Wrench. He hasn't been anything but kind: cordial at worst. She doesn't even know why the I guess you're involved feels so bad. She's played house with this guy for less than three weeks and she didn't ask for it: it's reasonable for his colleague or best friend or boyfriend or what the fuck ever to be annoyed they've got a third wheel. Her eyes still sting though, and her accent's slipped further. Traitors.
"Not here to hold anyone back," she adds, roughly.
Something about that tone of voice has troubled Scout, and she stands up restlessly next to Teddy, making a grumble-huff noise that sounds so human that Teddy can't help but exhale a soft sigh-laugh of her own. After a moment's inspection assures her that Teddy herself is not in danger, Scout stretches, dissatisfied, and makes a casual perimeter, tipping her head up as she nears Wrench in a curious, slightly soliciting way that Teddy recognizes as 'wants attention but trying to be cool about it'. Teddy rubs her eyes and looks back up.
I'm sorry, Teddy signs to Wrench, and means it, but it's easier to say if she passes it off as about the dog. She really likes you.
no subject
Still, at least both Wrench and Numbers are signing slow and clear, even if Teddy feels like an idiot -- it makes it easier not just to recognize the words they do know, but to put together the ones they don't from context. Over where, they're trying to see if he clarifies, because the question is really are they all on the same street, and if they are what does that mean -- but Wrench cuts him off with a decisive no sign.
Teddy furrows their brow; Numbers looks equally startled and then a little annoyed, but they're not sure if he's confused about the same thing or not. Is that firm no in response to what Wrench had quickly signed to him, or about finding anything else out? To Teddy's own question about the street?
She knows woke up; she doesn't know gun or knife but the sign for gun, at least, is pretty self-explanatory. Knife loses her briefly because it looks enough like can't, but the other parts, the flow of the sentence, the and, Numbers agreeing and repeating: she figures it out.
And then he kind of shuts himself down, a little. Teddy can't find it in themself to blame him, even if it is a little like telling everyone to shut up. They've felt that way since they got here, sort of. They catch Wrench's eye and repeat back, hastily, an aside to make sure, You -- both -- have your knife and gun? Right? I don't know all the signs.
They add, thinking by talking, Three of us: three guns, two knives, Scout. It's not bad. They're suddenly and uncomfortably reminded of the effect of hunting ammo on human skull, and they take a breath in. Or...maybe it's very bad. Whatever the hell Teddy had expected when they woke up in a negligee in a strange bed in a strange house with a picture of themselves marrying a tall stranger: it wasn't needing an armory almost immediately. The fact that all three of them do have weapons and experience using them doesn't make them feel secure that it's not going to come back up.
Then Numbers is back and signing. The sign for twiddling your thumbs is more of a mime than anything else, and the expression, filtered through Numbers' annoyance, would have relaxed her nerves if the gist of what he says next didn't kind of piss her off and weirdly sting. Teddy rolls her eyes and spreads her hands with a clear what the fuck am I supposed to do about that shrug.
"Me?" she says aloud, signing at the same time with the attendant facial expression. "You two wanna go, go. I'm not..." she fails to find a word, spoken or signed, and just lifts her hands away and up, frustrated and done.
She shakes her head, crossing her arms across her stomach, dropping her eyes.
"I wasn't exactly fixin'a wake up some man's wife in suburban hell, you know," she says after a moment, still looking at the ground. It's rude of her; she knows it, too. But it's not meant for Wrench. He hasn't been anything but kind: cordial at worst. She doesn't even know why the I guess you're involved feels so bad. She's played house with this guy for less than three weeks and she didn't ask for it: it's reasonable for his colleague or best friend or boyfriend or what the fuck ever to be annoyed they've got a third wheel. Her eyes still sting though, and her accent's slipped further. Traitors.
"Not here to hold anyone back," she adds, roughly.
Something about that tone of voice has troubled Scout, and she stands up restlessly next to Teddy, making a grumble-huff noise that sounds so human that Teddy can't help but exhale a soft sigh-laugh of her own. After a moment's inspection assures her that Teddy herself is not in danger, Scout stretches, dissatisfied, and makes a casual perimeter, tipping her head up as she nears Wrench in a curious, slightly soliciting way that Teddy recognizes as 'wants attention but trying to be cool about it'. Teddy rubs her eyes and looks back up.
I'm sorry, Teddy signs to Wrench, and means it, but it's easier to say if she passes it off as about the dog. She really likes you.