Aden imagined that there had to be a lot of thoughts going through the other man's head currently. Complicated thoughts, the type that tended to tie themselves into knots to be difficult to untangle properly. Had he been in the Bull's place- in some foreign world with weird technology and weirder people all on his lonesome- then he imagined he'd feel the same. And he'd probably take it worse.
Rage tended to be his go-to emotion for inconveniences, after all.
The train hadn't even done him the decency of giving him some proper assistance with adjusting. Aden knew himself well enough that so far as support went, he wasn't exactly anyone's first choice. Or second. Or third. He actually probably wasn't even on the list.
Having him for support was sort of like being handed a live grenade without having any use for it what so ever. It was a here, this'll help- we're not even fighting right now, how is a live grenade supposed to help?!- I don't know, figure it out.
He would do his best, though. They were both from the train, after all. At least that was something they had in common, and they could look at each other, agree that it was some weird fucking shit, and be assured that neither of them had gone crazy. There wasn't exactly any particular comfort in that, but it was something.
"Not too long ago I walked in with the former ruthless dictator everyone had been fighting for five years and who had tried to kill me more times than I care to count in tow and told everyone he's totally good now and totally trustworthy so get him security clearance and a place to sleep. I'd say that me fucking off into the forest with some guy who just showed up is par for the course for most of my people at this point."
A bit of a shrug.
"That said, I probably should let my husband know that I'll be going out for a while. The flooring in our room is still worn down from the circles he walked the last time I disappeared without a word."
There was a bit of humor in his voice that suggested that was an exaggeration, but he probably should let Theron know and give Lana a message too considering how likely she was to tear the entire forest down if she felt it necessary to figure out where he'd gone.
"That," He said, pointing to the console in the middle of the room, "Is a piece of technology that can display a person's appearance and voice over large distances. Letting people talk in real time without having to find each other or send written messages. You good if I call my husband up from here?"
It would certainly be quicker than Aden going through the base to find him and then returning. But he did think that so far as weird shit went, holocalls would probably make that list too for the Bull. So he thought it best to both warn and ask rather than immediately moving to make that call.
His gaze moves over the thing automatically, not assessing -- he doesn't know enough to assess a damn thing -- but memorising, reflexively trying to remember enough to be able to draw it and all its weird little details later, one more weird thing for the Viddasala to get eyes on so the Qun can find out more about it. Hasn't had that urge to send reports back in a while, but he guesses it's not that weird for it to pop back up in his head now. Used to calm him down, writing it all out.
"Go right ahead," he says, noting the way Aden describes the thing to him, what it does, what it's good for, asks him if he's okay with it before he turns the thing on. Nice of him.
"Going to be good to meet him," he says and then, partly to make the message-thing feel a little more normal, mostly to give himself an excuse to smile about something even if he can't dig up anything as wide as his usual, "how hot is he? Be nice to have something pretty to look at."
"And I'm right here, too," Aden said, with a sort of icy snark that he hadn't dropped his voice or expression into during their time on the train at all- with Bull or anyone else. It was quick to fade away though, into a faint laugh that said that that particular brand of deadpan snark was a true reflection of his more typical sense of humor than anything else he might pull otherwise.
"He's pretty decent. Human, so he might be a little more palatable to you depending on whether or not you've got humans where you're from."
Aden would be genuinely surprised if there wasn't humans. On any world and in any dimension, it seemed humanity was the standard. Sometimes Aden was still surprised how plentiful they were, considering he'd never actually seen a human in person before he was eighteen. But explaining that was something that could wait until another day. Or never. Aden didn't often speak about growing up in the Ascendancy anyway.
He moved to make that call, keying in the number to call up Theron's holocomm. There were a couple of quick chimes before the call was picked up and the blue light of the hologram of his husband filled the room- as quick to cast his glance around the Phantom's interior as Aden tended to be when surveying his own surroundings.
"This one of your long stories again?" The human asked, with amusement creeping into his voice- not particularly perturbed at seeing an unfamiliar face there apparently.
"Are my stories ever anything but, ch'eo?" Aden responded in kind, voice and expression both taking on a warmer quality as close to a typical human as one could get, rather than only being halfway there like he usually was, "We're going to go out hunting for a while. Just wanted to let you know so you don't mess up the flooring in our room like last time."
"Hey, it was easily replaced last time," Theron quipped in return, one hand on his hip and making a vague dismissive gesture with the other, "But alright. Anything I should know while you're out?"
"Keep Rivix out of my files and tell Lana that if she sees him snooping about where he doesn't belong, to string his entrails like party streamers through the cantina."
"Gross. But yeah, I'll let her know."
Looking back to the Iron Bull, Aden smiled, "Do you want to get actual proper introductions out of the way now, or would you like to wait until the two of you get to meet in person?"
"Oh," the Bull says, and steps away from the wall. "Sure."
Weird to be surprised about it. Maybe Aden doesn't come off as the kind of guy who warmly introduces you to his other half, or maybe you just don't expect to talk to some weird illusion machine the way you'd talk to a person who was right there in the room. Maybe both. Doesn't actually matter.
"Hey. I'm the Iron Bull," he says and tilts his chin up in a nod to the guy, thinks about building that question about the husband being hot into some flirting.
"He mean that thing about the entrails?" he asks instead. Screw it, right? It's not like he's going to be up to anything too subtle for a while. "Cause there was this thing earlier, with a guy's wrist and a knife, kind of hard to tell if that's just the kind of example that gets made of people around here."
"Pleasure to meet you, the Iron Bull," Theron said, with a tip of his head in greeting, "Theron Shan. Part time advisor, fulltime babysitter for the most irresponsible man in the galaxy."
Said with fondness.
And if there was any curiosity in Theron about seeing someone of an unfamiliar species, he most certainly didn't show it, looking much friendlier and more open than Aden usually did, and a little bit amused, "And about Rivix? Yeah, I'd say he meant that."
"I did," Aden confirmed, with a bit of a shrug, and while it was less openly emotional again, there was an air of playfulness to it nonetheless.
As for the thing with the knife, Theron shrugged a little, "Sometimes with Sith that's how you've got to communicate to get through the aggression."
The voice of experience, mirrored in Aden's slight shrug of that's just how it is.
"Not that we encourage it- oh, and Dee? Lana says the guy's medical expenses are on you."
That got a bit of a grunt from the Chiss who rolled his eyes, "Yeah? Good thing I've got the Emperor to pick up my tab then."
"Seriously?"
"He is funding us, isn't he?" Aden reasoned, before looking like he just remembered something, "Oh, and have some tailors and weapon designers at the ready for when we get back. Should be fine for hunting, but well..."
A look at the Iron Bull then, hinting that he meant that it would probably be preferable for both of them to leave anything about the train that they didn't need to bring with them behind. Starting with the clothing.
"You can bill that to me," He added, since that was the least he could do, really.
The Bull picks up what he can. Habit, not need. Yeah there's no one to report to any more, but there's no anything else either. Not here. Doesn't matter what he manages to figure out. Still: no real conclusion from the question of how they treat their people. The Sith aggression thing's interesting, something to make sense out of later. Aden wants to dress him up, but probably not for the same reasons Vivienne likes to. Liked. Maybe something about the shorts don't work. It's nothing he can figure out from the look Aden gives him. Maybe he should be able to figure it out, but he can't. Shove it in the box with all the other things he can't figure out any more. Box is overflowing, but it'll hold for a little while longer.
Wherever this is has an emperor, too. He notes that. Says a little about the place even if he doesn't know any of the details yet.
And he makes a note of Theron. The way Aden lit up the moment he started talking to the husband. More than one thing there: If he wanted to get in with Aden, if this was the kind of situation he'd at least know how to handle, whether or not he liked it, getting in with Theron would be the way to get there. And then there's-- Well, it's just nice to see, he guesses. Nice to have that sort of light there in the room with him, even if he can't really touch it right now.
If the thing holding him in the Fade dropped him here-- if getting sent from there was the only way any of them trapped there had any hope of getting home-- He thinks about Vivienne first, because the tailor thing's already got him thinking about her. The way she chided him for tearing the last outfit she had made, the way she'd smiled when she said it. Not the calculated smile she gives most of the rest of the time, that kind of smile when you're retreading an old worn-in argument with someone else who gets as much out of it as you do and it's just comfortable. He thinks about the last breakfast he remembers back there, all his guys around him, Krem's elbow shoving its way against Bull's ribs and his hand messing up Krem's hair. The way his hair felt, weirdly, that comes to him too. All sorts of little details stick that way, once it starts sinking in that you're never going to see someone again.
Probably he should be grateful. First time this has happened to him when no one's actually died.
He takes a drink, bigger than his last few, takes a slow breath through his nose. Tries to pay attention to their conversation, then remembers it doesn't matter. He's not going to interrupt, and it's probably a bad idea to drink this whole thing, or maybe even too much more than he already has.
Nothing to do but wait. It's not like he has any control over any of it. Might be the only good thing about this situation, knowing someone else has the reins of the situation and all there is to do is follow.
"Yes, tailors tend to take a look at me and crank the price up," he mutters, maybe belatedly. "Sorry."
There was a subtle flick of red eyes toward the other man- noting the way he drank a bit more deeply, the slow breath. Aden was used to watching. It wasn't something he could shut off at this point- nor did he want to. So long as his mind was doing that, he knew that it was at least functioning.
"Hey, don't worry about it. We've got larger guys than you running around in Alliance-funded gold-plated armor."
A bit of a hyperbole, but not entirely. And they really did have bigger guys than the Bull around who were expensive to get passable gear for. Aden didn't usually fund them himself admittedly, but. His budget could handle it.
"They even keep it polished so we can use it as a mirror in a pinch. Really helpful in the mornings after a hangover," Theron supplied, helpfully.
"Your experiences aren't universal, ch'eo," Aden said, a touch of snark creeping into his voice, to go with the very playful smile he flashed, "Some of us manage to look presentable even after drinking our weight in liquor."
It was quick to disappear, but had been there nonetheless, "But yes- let Lana know. And yes, I will be careful and keep my comm on me should you need to reach me."
Theron's mouth snapped shut at that, since he'd been about to remind him, but then he just smiled and gave a slight wave, "Will do. You be safe out there."
Aden reached to shut the console off, leaving him and Bull in the low lighting of the Phantom's interior again- and like a mask being put back on, the open and emotional look he'd had only seconds before slipped away to something much more harder to get a read on. It wasn't emotionless, just. Cold.
"Want to go see if I have some weapons you can use, or are you happy to do your killing with your bare hands? Pretty sure my knives would look like cutlery to you, but I'm sure we can find something somewhere if you prefer."
He studies Aden for a moment. Weird, that. Nice that he doesn't have to think that hard to go over it, that at least the unknowns which come along with people are the kind that he has tools for; most people, that kind of happiness would stick around, linger on their face for a while. Faking all that warmth for the husband's sake? Could be. Enough to make a guy wonder what kind of emotion's underneath it, since that's maybe what happiness looks like on him and the emotion isn't sticking around, whether he's helping the Bull out because he wants to or because of something else. Except the shitting Fade dropped the Bull here and he thought it back on that carriage-train but he knows it now: the Iron Bull's never going to see his home again.
Any of the mages, Dorian, Vivienne, maybe even Solas, whatever he's up to these days, maybe they could have figured something out, dropped on their asses out here. They never minded all that Fade shit the way they should. Mostly just made them curious. Dorian and Solas, they'd get all excited, figure out some way to research something and find a way back. Vivienne might try some of that manoeuvring for position first, but she knows her stuff. She'd come here with something. But he's the one who's here. It's just him.
If Aden's up to something, it probably doesn't matter. Not going to hurt anyone if he is. Just some exile no one here would give half a shit about even if they knew him. Exile twice over, and alone with it this time. Dust again; the Iron Bull without his crew doesn't feel like it should hold its shape.
He sets the glass down on the nearest surface. It goes down a little harder than he meant it to, the noise loud, the maybe-whiskey inside sloshing up the sides. He frowns at the glass for a couple seconds and then he lets go of it, the movement of his hand away slow and deliberate, and he tilts his chin up in a nod at Aden.
Enough of this shit. There's fighting to do.
"Whatever you want, I can make it work. You might be better off leaving me barehanded. Didn't have a weapon last time I had to fight some of that weird Fade crap though, and that one was a pain in the ass." And then, needing to fill his head up with something that isn't this, or maybe just wanting to talk like for a second things are normal, or maybe just wanting to find out whether Aden's emotion there was real -- Hissrad's soul might be dust to the Qun now but the stuff that made him good at the undercover Ben-Hassrath thing never seemed to get the message, so sometimes whys are hard to figure out -- he goes with the urge to chat and finds himself saying, "So, husband seems nice. Seems pretty used to worrying about you."
Had Aden been in the Bull's place, Aden thought he'd have started screaming long ago. He noted the way that glass went down, slight raise of the eyebrows indicating that he was paying attention. He wondered if the other man wanted to scream, at the moment. Curse an unfair fate. The killing was part of that maybe- necessary to get stubborn emotions out, Aden thought. Maybe at the end of the day, at least five deities would have turned their eyes away and the Force would go to hang out somewhere else for a while.
That would have been the case if it was him.
Whether it would turn out to that for the Iron Bull remained to be seen. Aden wasn't shy either way- he could handle it, whatever it was.
"Theron? Yeah he's... He's great, really. Better than I deserve."
There was a bit of emotion there, in his voice. Something contemplative. Honest, though. He was a good liar, but this wasn't something that needed lying about.
He nodded for the Bull to follow along, so they could make their way to the cargo hold then. Mostly empty save for a sliding door at the back of the room, which Aden moved over to and unlocked- the click of the lock popping open followed by the rattle of the door automatically pulling itself back to reveal the weapons held within. Knives both utilitarian and fancy- equal parts weaponry that was in use and part of a collection. Explosives, too, in secure crates on the floor. Vials full of liquid that looked like they wouldn't be very fun to come in contact with.
Definitely weapons better suited to a man around Aden's size. Some of the blades looked complicated- the hilts and the blades looking more like a delivery system for something far nastier than a cut if the grooves in the metal were anything to go by.
"He's from the Republic, originally. When I met him we were... Well. Enemies, really. I wanted to kill him. I'm sure he wanted to do the same to me to put an end to all the ghost stories. Tends to be what happens when you put two spies in the same room together, you know? Someone ends up with their throat slit or with a knife in their back. These days though I just try to kill him by giving him heart attacks and making him age about ten years in ten seconds by doing something unbelievably stupid."
Aden had killed his share of Republic agents throughout the years. Not Theron though- he was happy about that. He picked out a pair of knives for himself, slipping them into fastenings on the inside of his coat meant to conceal them- and then he stepped aside to look at the vials of poisons and acids, mostly to make space for the other man to approach and look through the knives himself if he wanted to.
As for how easily the words came to him, well- It wasn't like who and what he was was going to be able to stay a secret. Even aside from their unique situation, Aden was far past the point where he was of any use as a spy considering more or less the entire galaxy had seen his face and experienced the outcomes of what he'd fought for.
This wasn't the train.
Arm's length didn't matter so much here, surrounded by people who were in the know and assumed the same for everyone else too. And the past and present were easier to chat about than other things. Easier to chat about than the train too, much as those missing memories kept jabbing icy needles of anxiety into him ever so often.
"Never pictured myself with a human, either. Always thought I'd meet some nice Chiss boy or girl to settle down with, you know? Well- daydreamed, really. Retirement looks a bit different when you don't officially exist. Less like a family and home to go back to and more like an unmarked grave or a ditch somewhere."
"You're looking pretty official now," he notes, walking a little into the room, in the space Aden made for him. Doors that move by themselves, still creepy. Still that weird metallic smell everywhere. Crates of something on the floor. Vials of something else. Mostly stuff he doesn't know enough about to even think about using. Knives though, at least. Almost weird to see something familiar. Makes sense that Aden would only have rogue weapons here, in what seems like his private... his private something. Whatever this place is. Not a house, because it isn't placed like a house. Hard not to try and figure it out and start thinking about flying shitting Fade-carriages.
Better not to think too hard about it.
"So, how'd that happen?" His eye darts over the knives that he can see, sorting them out in his head. Not the ones that are made to work with poison, that's never been his thing. Might be better to use something unremarkable anyway, something Aden won't mind losing. Just in case. If Aden ends up wanting him to take one at all, that is. The fact that Aden didn't actually tell him out loud whether he wants the Bull with a weapon or not is actually bugging him a little. There's a good chance the guy's never seen a Qunari before this; maybe he doesn't know how important it is, making sure the Bull's not as dangerous right now as he could be. His mind works over that, while his eye works over the knives. "Sounds like something out of one of-- Uh."
Varric. The easy certainty that there's no one anywhere who hasn't at least heard of the guy even if they haven't read his stuff, the way he can just say something like that and anyone's going to know what he means. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.
"You know," he starts again, tone perfectly steady, steadier than it was a moment before, gaze fixed down somewhere in the direction of the knives while his hand hovers over them like he's still assessing. "One of those books, the romance ones. 'Star crossed lovers on opposite sides of a war, will they 'spy' the love in each other's hearts' or, you know, something like that. When did you stop wanting to kill each other?"
The question of how exactly that happened caused a very slight twitch in Aden's expression- on a more expressive person it might very well have been several stages of grief passing in a single moment. He was glad to have married Theron, but the road to get there had been some of the most insanity packed years of Aden's life- and everyone else's, too. He didn't always like thinking back on it all for fear of becoming the next insanity for everyone else to rally against himself.
So he just made a soft little noise at the mention of those sorts of books, while also noting the steadier tone- saying nothing, but noting it all the same, "I think a couple of my sisters used to read those for me as a bedtime story when I was a child. Back before they realized I could actually understand what they were reading to me."
That point in his life had come a bit sooner than his sisters would have liked, Aden thought. He didn't think he'd grasped the ideas and implications quite the same way that adults did, nor been able to imagine everything with the accuracy of the experience that came with age, but his sisters had started reading more age appropriate books once they realized that he understood more than they'd thought he did.
"To make a long story short about me and Theron- attraction first regardless of instinctive hatred of the other side, followed by an unimaginable amount of shit that included one arrogant wannabe-Chosen one, one wannabe-God threatening to consume every life in the world to fuel his own immortality, a couple of doomsday cults, and a couple of tyrants that made us realize that life's too short to want to kill each other based on which nation's flag we happen to prefer to use as tacky interior décor."
He smiled a little, and shrugged a shoulder, "As for when we stopped wanting to kill each other, it's debatable. He took a whack at it pretty recently after years of not even thinking about it."
Based on his tone, it was likely that that was at least partially a joke.
He nodded toward a knife on the wall- a bit larger than most of the blades on display and a bit on the fancy-looking side too, "I think that one could be useful. I've always found it a bit too heavy for my particular use, but for you it might feel a bit more balanced."
Despite not getting much use of it himself, he'd still kept it though- he was a collector, after all.
"Once we get back we'll get around to getting you something... Less pint-sized."
His gaze follows Aden's nod and he goes ahead and heads toward the knife, something easing in his chest. Aden expects him to take it, and so that's one less question the Bull needs to figure out how to answer. He takes the knife down off the wall, hefts it. The size is okay in his hand. Not quite as big as the short swords he's used to keeping with him, but closer than anything else he sees here.
Once we get back. Bull's gaze flicks over to Aden when he says it, expression very still. Then he looks away. His fingers flex over the handle of the knife, the metal bare, ready to be used.
He opens his mouth. He closes it again.
"It going to take us too long to get there? I might need something to keep this in."
Much like the tone, the expression was also noted. Aden was observant- had to be, in his line of work. It's more difficult here though, because with everyone else, Aden had some reference for what to look for- even if it was an unfamiliar species, he usually knew enough about their culture to be able to easily sort through what their expressions or tones of voice meant.
But despite similarities with some other species, the Iron Bull was entirely unfamiliar to him, and thus it was harder to slot expressions and tone neatly into one category or the other. Time and familiarity would solve that, of course, but he was somewhat resentful that the train had thrown the poor guy into his world alongside a man tragically incapable of putting someone at ease unless he was lulling them into a false sense of security before a strike.
At the moment, Aden would have liked to have a word with the train.
There were many unanswered questions regardless, of course. About the train itself. About the void. About the worlds, and the chosen heroes. But really, it seemed unusually cruel that Aden was sent home, and the Bull was sent here. Not to mention he wanted to know why- surely there had to be others who'd gone to their respective homes who would have been better candidates for support if the Bull's home world was truly inaccessible at the moment.
"Since we're walking, it'll take a little while. So probably best if you have something to keep it in, yeah."
He moved away to open a crate where he'd very neatly stored all the sheaths that his knives had come with- they were labeled and everything- going through them until he found the correct one, and then moving back and holding it out for the other man to take. Having that crate with its neatly kept and labeled sheaths for each and every knife probably said a lot about Aden as a person, really.
He watches Aden go through his sheaths, thinking appreciatively about the kind of organization you need to keep track of all that the right way and trying to pretend his mind is empty, that that's the only thing going through his head right now. Then he takes the sheath, and it's almost a relief to put the blade of the knife away, and the Bull wonders why. Doesn't need another question crowding up his head, dismisses it, and looks for a place to put the knife instead. No belt to attach it to -- didn't come with the weird-ass Fade prisoner uniform -- so he hooks the sheath's strap onto one of the loops on his shorts and watches the weight of the thing start tugging at the shorts like it's going to pull them down.
He sighs.
"Damn thing," he mutters. "Well, lead the way, I guess, unless you want to grab anything else. What kind of walk are we talking about?"
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Rage tended to be his go-to emotion for inconveniences, after all.
The train hadn't even done him the decency of giving him some proper assistance with adjusting. Aden knew himself well enough that so far as support went, he wasn't exactly anyone's first choice. Or second. Or third. He actually probably wasn't even on the list.
Having him for support was sort of like being handed a live grenade without having any use for it what so ever. It was a here, this'll help- we're not even fighting right now, how is a live grenade supposed to help?!- I don't know, figure it out.
He would do his best, though. They were both from the train, after all. At least that was something they had in common, and they could look at each other, agree that it was some weird fucking shit, and be assured that neither of them had gone crazy. There wasn't exactly any particular comfort in that, but it was something.
"Not too long ago I walked in with the former ruthless dictator everyone had been fighting for five years and who had tried to kill me more times than I care to count in tow and told everyone he's totally good now and totally trustworthy so get him security clearance and a place to sleep. I'd say that me fucking off into the forest with some guy who just showed up is par for the course for most of my people at this point."
A bit of a shrug.
"That said, I probably should let my husband know that I'll be going out for a while. The flooring in our room is still worn down from the circles he walked the last time I disappeared without a word."
There was a bit of humor in his voice that suggested that was an exaggeration, but he probably should let Theron know and give Lana a message too considering how likely she was to tear the entire forest down if she felt it necessary to figure out where he'd gone.
"That," He said, pointing to the console in the middle of the room, "Is a piece of technology that can display a person's appearance and voice over large distances. Letting people talk in real time without having to find each other or send written messages. You good if I call my husband up from here?"
It would certainly be quicker than Aden going through the base to find him and then returning. But he did think that so far as weird shit went, holocalls would probably make that list too for the Bull. So he thought it best to both warn and ask rather than immediately moving to make that call.
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"Go right ahead," he says, noting the way Aden describes the thing to him, what it does, what it's good for, asks him if he's okay with it before he turns the thing on. Nice of him.
"Going to be good to meet him," he says and then, partly to make the message-thing feel a little more normal, mostly to give himself an excuse to smile about something even if he can't dig up anything as wide as his usual, "how hot is he? Be nice to have something pretty to look at."
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"He's pretty decent. Human, so he might be a little more palatable to you depending on whether or not you've got humans where you're from."
Aden would be genuinely surprised if there wasn't humans. On any world and in any dimension, it seemed humanity was the standard. Sometimes Aden was still surprised how plentiful they were, considering he'd never actually seen a human in person before he was eighteen. But explaining that was something that could wait until another day. Or never. Aden didn't often speak about growing up in the Ascendancy anyway.
He moved to make that call, keying in the number to call up Theron's holocomm. There were a couple of quick chimes before the call was picked up and the blue light of the hologram of his husband filled the room- as quick to cast his glance around the Phantom's interior as Aden tended to be when surveying his own surroundings.
"This one of your long stories again?" The human asked, with amusement creeping into his voice- not particularly perturbed at seeing an unfamiliar face there apparently.
"Are my stories ever anything but, ch'eo?" Aden responded in kind, voice and expression both taking on a warmer quality as close to a typical human as one could get, rather than only being halfway there like he usually was, "We're going to go out hunting for a while. Just wanted to let you know so you don't mess up the flooring in our room like last time."
"Hey, it was easily replaced last time," Theron quipped in return, one hand on his hip and making a vague dismissive gesture with the other, "But alright. Anything I should know while you're out?"
"Keep Rivix out of my files and tell Lana that if she sees him snooping about where he doesn't belong, to string his entrails like party streamers through the cantina."
"Gross. But yeah, I'll let her know."
Looking back to the Iron Bull, Aden smiled, "Do you want to get actual proper introductions out of the way now, or would you like to wait until the two of you get to meet in person?"
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Weird to be surprised about it. Maybe Aden doesn't come off as the kind of guy who warmly introduces you to his other half, or maybe you just don't expect to talk to some weird illusion machine the way you'd talk to a person who was right there in the room. Maybe both. Doesn't actually matter.
"Hey. I'm the Iron Bull," he says and tilts his chin up in a nod to the guy, thinks about building that question about the husband being hot into some flirting.
"He mean that thing about the entrails?" he asks instead. Screw it, right? It's not like he's going to be up to anything too subtle for a while. "Cause there was this thing earlier, with a guy's wrist and a knife, kind of hard to tell if that's just the kind of example that gets made of people around here."
no subject
Said with fondness.
And if there was any curiosity in Theron about seeing someone of an unfamiliar species, he most certainly didn't show it, looking much friendlier and more open than Aden usually did, and a little bit amused, "And about Rivix? Yeah, I'd say he meant that."
"I did," Aden confirmed, with a bit of a shrug, and while it was less openly emotional again, there was an air of playfulness to it nonetheless.
As for the thing with the knife, Theron shrugged a little, "Sometimes with Sith that's how you've got to communicate to get through the aggression."
The voice of experience, mirrored in Aden's slight shrug of that's just how it is.
"Not that we encourage it- oh, and Dee? Lana says the guy's medical expenses are on you."
That got a bit of a grunt from the Chiss who rolled his eyes, "Yeah? Good thing I've got the Emperor to pick up my tab then."
"Seriously?"
"He is funding us, isn't he?" Aden reasoned, before looking like he just remembered something, "Oh, and have some tailors and weapon designers at the ready for when we get back. Should be fine for hunting, but well..."
A look at the Iron Bull then, hinting that he meant that it would probably be preferable for both of them to leave anything about the train that they didn't need to bring with them behind. Starting with the clothing.
"You can bill that to me," He added, since that was the least he could do, really.
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Wherever this is has an emperor, too. He notes that. Says a little about the place even if he doesn't know any of the details yet.
And he makes a note of Theron. The way Aden lit up the moment he started talking to the husband. More than one thing there: If he wanted to get in with Aden, if this was the kind of situation he'd at least know how to handle, whether or not he liked it, getting in with Theron would be the way to get there. And then there's-- Well, it's just nice to see, he guesses. Nice to have that sort of light there in the room with him, even if he can't really touch it right now.
If the thing holding him in the Fade dropped him here-- if getting sent from there was the only way any of them trapped there had any hope of getting home-- He thinks about Vivienne first, because the tailor thing's already got him thinking about her. The way she chided him for tearing the last outfit she had made, the way she'd smiled when she said it. Not the calculated smile she gives most of the rest of the time, that kind of smile when you're retreading an old worn-in argument with someone else who gets as much out of it as you do and it's just comfortable. He thinks about the last breakfast he remembers back there, all his guys around him, Krem's elbow shoving its way against Bull's ribs and his hand messing up Krem's hair. The way his hair felt, weirdly, that comes to him too. All sorts of little details stick that way, once it starts sinking in that you're never going to see someone again.
Probably he should be grateful. First time this has happened to him when no one's actually died.
He takes a drink, bigger than his last few, takes a slow breath through his nose. Tries to pay attention to their conversation, then remembers it doesn't matter. He's not going to interrupt, and it's probably a bad idea to drink this whole thing, or maybe even too much more than he already has.
Nothing to do but wait. It's not like he has any control over any of it. Might be the only good thing about this situation, knowing someone else has the reins of the situation and all there is to do is follow.
"Yes, tailors tend to take a look at me and crank the price up," he mutters, maybe belatedly. "Sorry."
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"Hey, don't worry about it. We've got larger guys than you running around in Alliance-funded gold-plated armor."
A bit of a hyperbole, but not entirely. And they really did have bigger guys than the Bull around who were expensive to get passable gear for. Aden didn't usually fund them himself admittedly, but. His budget could handle it.
"They even keep it polished so we can use it as a mirror in a pinch. Really helpful in the mornings after a hangover," Theron supplied, helpfully.
"Your experiences aren't universal, ch'eo," Aden said, a touch of snark creeping into his voice, to go with the very playful smile he flashed, "Some of us manage to look presentable even after drinking our weight in liquor."
It was quick to disappear, but had been there nonetheless, "But yes- let Lana know. And yes, I will be careful and keep my comm on me should you need to reach me."
Theron's mouth snapped shut at that, since he'd been about to remind him, but then he just smiled and gave a slight wave, "Will do. You be safe out there."
Aden reached to shut the console off, leaving him and Bull in the low lighting of the Phantom's interior again- and like a mask being put back on, the open and emotional look he'd had only seconds before slipped away to something much more harder to get a read on. It wasn't emotionless, just. Cold.
"Want to go see if I have some weapons you can use, or are you happy to do your killing with your bare hands? Pretty sure my knives would look like cutlery to you, but I'm sure we can find something somewhere if you prefer."
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Any of the mages, Dorian, Vivienne, maybe even Solas, whatever he's up to these days, maybe they could have figured something out, dropped on their asses out here. They never minded all that Fade shit the way they should. Mostly just made them curious. Dorian and Solas, they'd get all excited, figure out some way to research something and find a way back. Vivienne might try some of that manoeuvring for position first, but she knows her stuff. She'd come here with something. But he's the one who's here. It's just him.
If Aden's up to something, it probably doesn't matter. Not going to hurt anyone if he is. Just some exile no one here would give half a shit about even if they knew him. Exile twice over, and alone with it this time. Dust again; the Iron Bull without his crew doesn't feel like it should hold its shape.
He sets the glass down on the nearest surface. It goes down a little harder than he meant it to, the noise loud, the maybe-whiskey inside sloshing up the sides. He frowns at the glass for a couple seconds and then he lets go of it, the movement of his hand away slow and deliberate, and he tilts his chin up in a nod at Aden.
Enough of this shit. There's fighting to do.
"Whatever you want, I can make it work. You might be better off leaving me barehanded. Didn't have a weapon last time I had to fight some of that weird Fade crap though, and that one was a pain in the ass." And then, needing to fill his head up with something that isn't this, or maybe just wanting to talk like for a second things are normal, or maybe just wanting to find out whether Aden's emotion there was real -- Hissrad's soul might be dust to the Qun now but the stuff that made him good at the undercover Ben-Hassrath thing never seemed to get the message, so sometimes whys are hard to figure out -- he goes with the urge to chat and finds himself saying, "So, husband seems nice. Seems pretty used to worrying about you."
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That would have been the case if it was him.
Whether it would turn out to that for the Iron Bull remained to be seen. Aden wasn't shy either way- he could handle it, whatever it was.
"Theron? Yeah he's... He's great, really. Better than I deserve."
There was a bit of emotion there, in his voice. Something contemplative. Honest, though. He was a good liar, but this wasn't something that needed lying about.
He nodded for the Bull to follow along, so they could make their way to the cargo hold then. Mostly empty save for a sliding door at the back of the room, which Aden moved over to and unlocked- the click of the lock popping open followed by the rattle of the door automatically pulling itself back to reveal the weapons held within. Knives both utilitarian and fancy- equal parts weaponry that was in use and part of a collection. Explosives, too, in secure crates on the floor. Vials full of liquid that looked like they wouldn't be very fun to come in contact with.
Definitely weapons better suited to a man around Aden's size. Some of the blades looked complicated- the hilts and the blades looking more like a delivery system for something far nastier than a cut if the grooves in the metal were anything to go by.
"He's from the Republic, originally. When I met him we were... Well. Enemies, really. I wanted to kill him. I'm sure he wanted to do the same to me to put an end to all the ghost stories. Tends to be what happens when you put two spies in the same room together, you know? Someone ends up with their throat slit or with a knife in their back. These days though I just try to kill him by giving him heart attacks and making him age about ten years in ten seconds by doing something unbelievably stupid."
Aden had killed his share of Republic agents throughout the years. Not Theron though- he was happy about that. He picked out a pair of knives for himself, slipping them into fastenings on the inside of his coat meant to conceal them- and then he stepped aside to look at the vials of poisons and acids, mostly to make space for the other man to approach and look through the knives himself if he wanted to.
As for how easily the words came to him, well- It wasn't like who and what he was was going to be able to stay a secret. Even aside from their unique situation, Aden was far past the point where he was of any use as a spy considering more or less the entire galaxy had seen his face and experienced the outcomes of what he'd fought for.
This wasn't the train.
Arm's length didn't matter so much here, surrounded by people who were in the know and assumed the same for everyone else too. And the past and present were easier to chat about than other things. Easier to chat about than the train too, much as those missing memories kept jabbing icy needles of anxiety into him ever so often.
"Never pictured myself with a human, either. Always thought I'd meet some nice Chiss boy or girl to settle down with, you know? Well- daydreamed, really. Retirement looks a bit different when you don't officially exist. Less like a family and home to go back to and more like an unmarked grave or a ditch somewhere."
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Better not to think too hard about it.
"So, how'd that happen?" His eye darts over the knives that he can see, sorting them out in his head. Not the ones that are made to work with poison, that's never been his thing. Might be better to use something unremarkable anyway, something Aden won't mind losing. Just in case. If Aden ends up wanting him to take one at all, that is. The fact that Aden didn't actually tell him out loud whether he wants the Bull with a weapon or not is actually bugging him a little. There's a good chance the guy's never seen a Qunari before this; maybe he doesn't know how important it is, making sure the Bull's not as dangerous right now as he could be. His mind works over that, while his eye works over the knives. "Sounds like something out of one of-- Uh."
Varric. The easy certainty that there's no one anywhere who hasn't at least heard of the guy even if they haven't read his stuff, the way he can just say something like that and anyone's going to know what he means. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.
"You know," he starts again, tone perfectly steady, steadier than it was a moment before, gaze fixed down somewhere in the direction of the knives while his hand hovers over them like he's still assessing. "One of those books, the romance ones. 'Star crossed lovers on opposite sides of a war, will they 'spy' the love in each other's hearts' or, you know, something like that. When did you stop wanting to kill each other?"
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So he just made a soft little noise at the mention of those sorts of books, while also noting the steadier tone- saying nothing, but noting it all the same, "I think a couple of my sisters used to read those for me as a bedtime story when I was a child. Back before they realized I could actually understand what they were reading to me."
That point in his life had come a bit sooner than his sisters would have liked, Aden thought. He didn't think he'd grasped the ideas and implications quite the same way that adults did, nor been able to imagine everything with the accuracy of the experience that came with age, but his sisters had started reading more age appropriate books once they realized that he understood more than they'd thought he did.
"To make a long story short about me and Theron- attraction first regardless of instinctive hatred of the other side, followed by an unimaginable amount of shit that included one arrogant wannabe-Chosen one, one wannabe-God threatening to consume every life in the world to fuel his own immortality, a couple of doomsday cults, and a couple of tyrants that made us realize that life's too short to want to kill each other based on which nation's flag we happen to prefer to use as tacky interior décor."
He smiled a little, and shrugged a shoulder, "As for when we stopped wanting to kill each other, it's debatable. He took a whack at it pretty recently after years of not even thinking about it."
Based on his tone, it was likely that that was at least partially a joke.
He nodded toward a knife on the wall- a bit larger than most of the blades on display and a bit on the fancy-looking side too, "I think that one could be useful. I've always found it a bit too heavy for my particular use, but for you it might feel a bit more balanced."
Despite not getting much use of it himself, he'd still kept it though- he was a collector, after all.
"Once we get back we'll get around to getting you something... Less pint-sized."
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Once we get back. Bull's gaze flicks over to Aden when he says it, expression very still. Then he looks away. His fingers flex over the handle of the knife, the metal bare, ready to be used.
He opens his mouth. He closes it again.
"It going to take us too long to get there? I might need something to keep this in."
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But despite similarities with some other species, the Iron Bull was entirely unfamiliar to him, and thus it was harder to slot expressions and tone neatly into one category or the other. Time and familiarity would solve that, of course, but he was somewhat resentful that the train had thrown the poor guy into his world alongside a man tragically incapable of putting someone at ease unless he was lulling them into a false sense of security before a strike.
At the moment, Aden would have liked to have a word with the train.
There were many unanswered questions regardless, of course. About the train itself. About the void. About the worlds, and the chosen heroes. But really, it seemed unusually cruel that Aden was sent home, and the Bull was sent here. Not to mention he wanted to know why- surely there had to be others who'd gone to their respective homes who would have been better candidates for support if the Bull's home world was truly inaccessible at the moment.
"Since we're walking, it'll take a little while. So probably best if you have something to keep it in, yeah."
He moved away to open a crate where he'd very neatly stored all the sheaths that his knives had come with- they were labeled and everything- going through them until he found the correct one, and then moving back and holding it out for the other man to take. Having that crate with its neatly kept and labeled sheaths for each and every knife probably said a lot about Aden as a person, really.
"Here."
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He sighs.
"Damn thing," he mutters. "Well, lead the way, I guess, unless you want to grab anything else. What kind of walk are we talking about?"