checkingout | Who really knows best?

Entry tags:

Who really knows best?

Who: Zhaneel and Rumlow
What: Zhaneel is going to make poor life choices
Where: Rumlow's Room
When: Early morning June 6th
Warnings: Let's say violence, because it might get there and quickly, lmao. ;__;

Zhaneel had been laying low in her room for several days, having discovered the disappearance of both Sam and Alec shortly after one another. She'd found them nowhere, checking any of the familiar locations that either frequented. She had been closer to Alec, but both men had understood aspects of her own world that she didn't feel the other residents did; mostly because she's not had prolonged conversation with any of them.

In that time, she's had plenty of time to mull over what Rumlow had said to her about finding someone to teach her how to 'straighten her spine.' She also knew perfectly well about both Coulson and Coraline, and while Coulson's death had been blamed on Rumlow, Cashmere had planted enough doubt as to Rumlow's guilt in Coraline's and the possibility that it had been the staff instead. While this didn't remove his guilt over Coulson's murder, she'd also seen quite a bit in the recent dream broadcasts to call some question over who was really guilty.

All in all, it was enough to confuse her and bring to question what she herself had been raised to believe.

It had been early when she'd gone down for breakfast; early enough that no one else was yet awake to see her come or go. No one that would see the extra portions she brought with her back from breakfast.

She navigates the halls, finding them all as empty as the buffet and lobby had been. She knew where Rumlow's room was, and for some reason she had chosen to keep this bit of information quiet. He terrified her, but there was more to it than that... she'd seen what he'd survived and come out on top of. He'd told her to find someone to train and toughen her up.

She shifts the plate and cup to one hand, lifting her now free one to knock on room 119. It's a tentative knock and when she quickly draws back her hand, it's shaking visibly.

"He-hello?" Her voice is low and as tentative as her knock had been, and it's possible he won't even answer the door. She glances up and down the hallway quickly, unsettled and a bundle of nerves.

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The only reason that he had bothered to go back to his room for a few hours of shut-eye was because he hadn't found anywhere better and if he didn't want to open the door, no one was getting in as far as he could tell. He'd tried and failed to pick some locks on the other doors, and there weren't any particularly secure places for more than light dozing. He could play catch up in the room assigned to him, so he had taken the risk to sneak back to it for as much shut-eye as he could get.

Yet, he was up early in the morning, preparing to get himself a quick bite to eat if he could risk doing so before disappearing down stairs. He certainly wasn't staying in his room that was for sure; he'd go mental cooped up in a single room. Besides, he was not a man who hid from challenge, least of all in a crappy hotel. He had things to do and avenues to explore.

He paused in pulling a new clean shirt at the tentative knock, turning his head before he slowly approached to listen. Ah, he knew that small meek little voice, and he'd feel bad for her if he wasn't so tired of that kind of bullshit. Slowly he pulled open the door a crack, noting that she was the only one standing in front of it and held his only weapon at his side in case there was another out of his sight.

"Spilling popcorn or something again?"

She's worried that he's not there and she knows she won't try this again if it fails right now, but then the knob turned and the door opened the slightest bit. The room is mostly dark behind him, his silhouette just inside the door. Zhaneel might not have recognized the little bit of him showing if not for that voice. She swallows around the pattering of her pulse, shaking her head as a blush darkens her throat and cheeks.

"N-no... I thought you might need breakfast." She gestures with the plate and cup of orange juice, lifting her gaze to look at him. She's ready to bolt, but stands there still. "I thought it... it might be easier than sneaking down to get it for yourself."

His eye flicked down to regard signs of the meal that she had brought, and he mulled over if it was worth letting her in with the risk she was not alone. He made a noise of contemplation before he slowly opened the door wide enough to admit her and the goods that she had brought with her.

The room was clean, the bed made, the curtains open despite it being dark and rainy outside. His suitcase was neatly out of the way, his items no where to be seen and certainly not cluttering up the place. He shut the door as soon as she entered.

"Well, it's always worth practicing my skills," he remarked. "What's got you doing me favours, hmm?"

There's still the chance that he'll shut the door in her face and she tries to ready herself for it, but instead he opens the door just barely enough for her to enter. She slips inside, moving away as he shuts the door again quickly behind her. She glances around the room, finding it almost as new as if he's used nothing. It's the actual click of the door closing that makes her round to face him again, eyes a little wide.

She's not unaware that she's now locked in a room with Rumlow, a man who's being blamed for not one, but two murders. She shifts, holding firmly to the plate and glass before moving to set them down on his dresser.

"You said that I need to toughen up... Straighten... straighten my spine." She swallows tightly around the nervous knot in her throat and the rolling of her stomach. "I want you to show me how... to teach me."

She prepares for him to laugh and scold and otherwise humiliate her out of his room, but she's managed to say it all while maintaining eye contact. Yes, she's shifting nervously and looks to want to be anywhere else, but she's looking at Rumlow and not his floor. "I saw what you went through... what you survived... I don't think anyone here can teach me better than you."

He watched her intently, letting her break and lose herself to whatever it was that was running through her head. It was clear that she was frightened, that perhaps she realized that coming into his apartment wasn't the best life choice that she had made. He doubted she would be hard to take out either, but he wasn't going to play that hand until he had verified that death was not a constant state here.

"So I did," he agreed simply, giving nothing away as to his mood or opinion on the current topic. Instead, he slowly moved over to the dresser where she had set down food and drink. No one had risked such for him, not even Ward who was of the same organization. He picked up the glass and took a small sip, rolling it around in his mouth to try to detect any trace of poison, his eyes on her. "Stand up straight, set your shoulders back so your blades are almost touching. It's going to force your chest out, but stand like that right now."

He had survived a few things, more than any dream could show off that was for certain. "Why did you bring me this? Payment for teaching you or because you wanted to?"

Zhaneel watches him, shifting slightly toward the door as he moves toward template and cup. He starts with a small sip and it's fairly shocking to realize that he's testing to see if it's been poisoned. She never would have considered doing such, but then maybe that was the issue; maybe she needed to get to the point where she was willing to do such. A shiver moves along her spine as she notes that he's never once looked away from her.

When he snaps a command at her, she reacts instinctively as she's done her entire military life. Her spine straightens and she brings her shoulders blade back and they do very nearly touch. The position forces her chest out, but she's standing straight and it makes an immediate visual difference. Where she looked quite a bit shorter while hunched and shrunken in on herself, she looks every inch her 5'10" now.

She is silent for a moment as she considers her answer, and when she does speak, she maintains her corrected posture."I wanted to... No one should have to starve because their ideals don't match another's." She chews her lip slightly, "If you don't want to help me, then I don't believe there is anything I can currently offer to pay that would change your mind... but that doesn't change the fact that you have to eat more than you've managed to ferret away."

She hadn't even considered that the other HYDRA operatives hadn't brought him anything, or even offered. She swallows tightly before continuing, but she forces herself to look at him. "And... your room is near my own, so it doesn't draw attention if I bring anything extra back; especially after the rationing episode."

She responded to commands better than he would have given her credit for, not with all the previous fumbling that he had seen from her. It meant that someone had beat some sense of order into her life before this, though they had clearly done a shitty job given her generalized beaten and broken nervy attitude. It took some balls to ask to be taught though, so that was more points than he would have liked to give in her favour.

She was his height when she actually stood erect. It was amazing how much her attitude depleted her baring when she stood naturally.

"The world isn't fair, and people have trod on each other for far less," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. He had already moved on from the fact that he was out-gunned and out matched. He had his own wily nature to get him through. "True, my food had run out, and if I don't get down quick, I don't tend to eat as much as I should."

He drank down the juice, watching her over the rim of the glass before it was empty and he set it back down. "You're wrong. You get people to agree to help you by making them owe you something. It doesn't even have to be logical, but it still is. I owe you for this," he said, inclining his head towards the food. "So I'll teach you. It won't be easy, and you won't like it but changing yourself never is. Don't waste our time. Can you do it? Do you really want to stand just like you are now because you deserve to and feel it?"

She remains standing as directed, and while it doesn't exactly come naturally for her to hold such a baring she is doing well enough under Rumlow's direction. She frowns slightly as he admits that he hadn't been eating well and that his own stores have run out, but before she can comment on the matter he speaks again and she falls still.

Her expression has always betrayed her and it's among several (many) things that Rumlow will have to work on with her. Her heart races, pulse beating heavily in her throat as she swallows tightly. Her stomach twists, because things could go poorly depending on his answer; and when he gives it, she can't hide her surprise. She opens her mouth to protest, but as he continues, the words catch in her throat; that he owes her for bringing him food. In truth, she'd already planned on bringing him food every morning, even if her own explanation for it would have been weak at best.

When he asks if she really wants to change and if she feels she deserves it, she falls quiet. Her brows knit and she licks her lips before raisi g her golden gaze to meet his own once more. "I'm not going to pretend that I'm not scared," she says, still managing to meet his eyes. "But I'm tired of being trapped by it and ruled by it. I want to be stronger and to be able to fight back, so... So the day we're sent back to our homes I can do something. So while we're here I don't jump at every shadow or hide in my room. I want to feel confident in myself and in defending my beliefs, whether others like them or not."

A beat, and then for the first time in her life, "I deserve it."

She was like an open book to him who had spent almost his entire life hiding who he was and presenting to the world what he wanted them to see. Acting had come early, learning the traits to survive, learning what it would take to get him to the top of the pile quickly and without shying away from the dirty work necessary to get there. She had a very open baring and face, which would serve her well if she could learn to control it. People liked open people, thought they could be stepped on with less resistance.

"Good, you're a step ahead of more than a few in admitting what you just did," he said, but mastering fear took a long time. Some people didn't have the strength of character in order to endure, but she had more or less stood her ground a bit with him. Enough that he didn't think she was a complete lost cause. "Why do you jump at every shadow in your room?"

While he waited for her answer, he began to eat the meal that she had brought.

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