Bleak meter: Roughly neutral. Maybe leans sugary?

Timeline: After Season 10/MotO, well after peace with the dragons is well-established

Context: Old Redskull is my OC from "Wild and Sweet." He lost the top half of his face to a dragon at a young age. As such he's spent most of his life in the "drudge job" of being a nursery worker, helping to raise Hunter whelps. (And did a pretty good job of it, considering.)

Thanks also to guest reviewers who have been cropping up so far! Eyooooooo, JustRandom, you're still here?! :)

The Dieselnaught was in good form for once, its engine running smoothly. There was a small mission underway to build a hunting outpost, just Faith and her top bravors, as well as a few of the dragons following along to help with heavy lifting. Old Redskull had forcibly inserted himself into the party, insisting that as one of the tamer missions there should be no problem with him tagging along. Let a poor old blind man see a little bit of the world. (His own words.) Meanwhile Muzzle was at the wheel as usual, although his attire was a little less usual. A few days ago he'd sustained a scratch across the eye when playing with Duchess. The eye was healing fine, but it was still painful in bright light, so he was wearing an eyepatch over the injury in the meantime. He heard about it. A lot.

Meanwhile in the back, the others were going over the plan.

"We should be able to make it in two trips," said Faith, tracing her finger across the rough map Jet Jack and Chew Toy had devised on their scouting trips. "I'm going to need you all to—"

Just at that moment the entire Dieselnaught lurched and trembled beneath them. The roar of the engine skipped briefly.

"What the—" Faith caught her balance and looked to the cab. "Did we hit something?"

Muzzle glanced back contritely, waving a hand in apology with the other still on the wheel. Jet Jack poked her head out the side hatch and looked back.

"We grazed a big rock," she said, popping back in.

"Rough terrain," growled Muzzle, glancing back with his one uncovered eye looking a little too anxious for comfort. Faith cocked an eyebrow, but shrugged and went back to planning.

A few minutes later the Dieselnaught lurched again, sending everyone stumbling.

"Muzzle!" Faith caught herself against the wall. "What's going on up there?"

Muzzle babbled something indistinct, his shoulders visibly tense as he tugged on the wheel.

"Is everything all right?" said Faith, heading over to join him. She didn't get a chance; there was an even heavier lurch that threw everyone to the floor, then a nasty groaning, scraping sound, then everything went into chaos as the Dieselnaught sank its left wheels into soft sand and rolled.

"You're sure you're not concussed?" Faith eyed the lump on the side of Jet Jack's head, but took the mercy of not poking it again.

"Trust me, Chief, I've had enough to know the difference," said Jet Jack, grinning. "Just a little bump. I'm fine."

Faith allowed herself a sigh, grateful that this was the worst injury any of them had sustained. Redskull in particular she had a hard time looking at; she got queasy thinking that his comparatively frail elderly form had been hurled against the Dieselnaught's steel wall, even if he came away unscathed. His determination to cram all his adventuring into the end of his life kept taking years off the end of her life.

She looked to the abandoned hulk of the Dieselnaught, still lying sprawled on its side. Earth and Ice were circling it, growling amongst themselves and searching for purchase. Faith cringed as she examined the vehicle's exposed undercarriage: clearly some repairs would be needed.

"Nice going, big shot," said No-Legs, looking to Muzzle. Muzzle, who had been standing off to one side with his head hanging, gave a little whine and sank into himself. Faith felt a little bad for him, but then again he had just wrecked their rig and endangered all their lives.

"What happened back there, Muzzle?" she asked. "You're usually flawless."

Muzzle spread his hands helplessly.

"Wait, don't tell me," said Jet Jack. "All along you've been blind in that one eye you're not covering. Is that it?"

She waved a hand at Muzzle's face, and he started back, hissing in protest.

Meanwhile the dragons had figured out their plan of attack. They braced their frames against the Dieselnaught's bulk and began to push. A few heaves, much roaring and lashing of tails, and finally the gigantic machine teetered up onto its left wheels again, hovered impossibly balanced for just a second, then crashed deafeningly down onto its treads, upright. The Hunters cheered, and the dragons pranced about proudly.

Meanwhile Faith was already circling the vehicle, tallying the damage.

"Ugh. This going to take at least a day to fix," she announced. "Looks like we're going to be delayed."

"Nice going, big shot," said No-Legs and Jet Jack simultaneously. Muzzle groaned and dragged his cowl down over his eyes.

Repairs went a little faster than expected. Faith's estimations were based on the routine wear-and-tear breakdowns that the Dieselnaught usually had; it was a little easier to figure out what needed fixing when pieces were visibly smashed or detached. It was also a little easier to bend a component back into shape than it was to un-corrode it.

On the other hand, she could have wished for a slightly better repair crew. Jet Jack didn't have much of a head for machines. Chew Toy was easily distracted. Redskull, despite his dogged determination to contribute, was . . . well, blind. And oddly enough, Muzzle, who usually did very well with a screwdriver in hand, was really fumbling today.

"Are you sure you're not blind in that eye?" said Jet Jack. She had stopped working to watch as Muzzle tried again and again to fit a wrench around a bolt. He kept missing; not only to left or right, but seemingly having a hard time even figuring out how far away the bolt was. He either swiped the wrench at empty air or banged it against the surrounding gears.

"You've got the wrong size wrench, idiot," said No-Legs, handing over a smaller one. Muzzle reached out to take it and missed that as well.

"What is wrong with you today?" said No-Legs, amused. As Muzzle, seething, groped for the wrench again, No-Legs deliberately moved it and threw him off. Jet Jack stifled a giggle as Muzzle narrowed his eyes and gave a warning growl, in no mood for games. After a few futile swipes he finally got the wrench in hand, made another attempt at the bolt, and missed again. Swearing, he turned to give up, missed the edge of the crate he was standing on, and went sprawling. No-Legs and Jet Jack flinched at the impact, but started to laugh at the stream of highly sincere curses that followed.

Meanwhile Muzzle sat up, chucking away the wrench and still spitting the occasional oath. He tapered off into vindictive grumbling as he rubbed his head and eyed the crate and the bolt and the Dieselnaught in general.

"You'd better pull yourself together," said No-Legs. "One single crash and you fall apart like this?"

"It's not that," said Muzzle. "It's not my head, it's my eyesight. And I'm not blind!" he added immediately, glaring up at Jet Jack. "But it's like everything is . . . different. My hand doesn't go where my eyes say it's going. I don't know what's wrong."

"Sounds like a head problem," said No-Legs, unconvinced. He shrugged as Muzzle glared at him in turn. "What? You expect me to believe you're not rattled up after that?"

Muzzle's single uncovered eye strayed to his feet.

"You could have gotten us all killed, y'know," said Jet Jack.

"I know." Muzzle subconsciously groped for the wrench again and began to fiddle with it nervously. "I don't know what kind of trouble I'm in with Faith, either."

"Eh, she doesn't seem too mad," said Jet Jack.

"She must think I'm an idiot, though," groaned Muzzle, swiping the wrench at a rock and missing.

"She is pretty perceptive, true," said No-Legs. He waited, but when Muzzle didn't react he groaned and kicked him lightly with one mech leg. "Get over it! You're overthinking this."

"I hate waiting!" snapped Muzzle. "Who knows what she's going to do to me. And if she's not doing it now, then how long am I going to have to wait for it? Till we get all the way back to Dead's End?!"

"Probably," said Jet Jack blandly. "That's where the brig is."

Muzzle gave an alarmed yelp, while No-Legs rolled his eyes wearily.

"Oh, come off it. I doubt she'll go as far as the brig."

"Says who?" Jet Jack kicked back on her perch on the Dieselnaught's hull, wiping her oily hands on her clothes. She gave Muzzle a look of feigned pity. "You're going to be working yourself into a panic either way, aren't you? So put your back into it. Prepare for the worst. She'll probably throw you in the brig for life."

"Oh, for the love of Pete," said No-Legs. "I highly doubt for life."

"Two lives, then!" Jet Jack waved a hand flippantly. "She'll imprison his ghost, too."

No-Legs squinted at her for a moment, processing, then glanced down to Muzzle, who looked like he couldn't figure out whether to be anxious or annoyed.

"I dunno, Jackie, that might kind of take a while." Chew Toy piped up from the other end of the caterpillar treads. "It would be quicker to just put him in the brig, and then build another brig around it. So he's in the brig twice as hard, you know?"

"Chewie, you have a beautiful mind," said Jet Jack, while No-Legs snorted inadvertently. Muzzle decisively chose irritation at this point.

"It's not funny," he snapped.

"I'll say," said No-Legs. "We're probably going to be the ones stuck building the damned second brig."

"Ooh." Jet Jack sat up again, grimacing. "Hadn't thought of that. On second thought, I don't like that idea. Think we could talk Faith out of it?"

"Maybe, but we'd have to give her a good alternative," said No-Legs.

"What?!" squawked Muzzle indignantly.

"Oh, that's easy!" said Jet Jack, ignoring him. "She could just make him build the brig, and that would be part of the punishment!"

"Have you even looked at him lately?" retorted No-Legs. "He can't tighten a bolt, you think he could build an entire brig? It'd fall in on his head."

"And that is ALSO part of the punishment!" crowed Jet Jack.

Muzzle had opinions about all of this. No-Legs was the only one who really understood all of them, but his tone said enough for Jet Jack and Chew Toy to find it highly amusing. The discussion was starting to get noisy.

"Hey!" called a sharp voice. Everyone started and fell silent, turning to Faith, who was passing by with an armload of bent piston shafts.

"All of you get back to work," she said, frowning. Her gaze came to rest on Muzzle in particular. "And you—for your own sake. Shut up."

Muzzle's eyes widened briefly as if he'd been struck, but then he quickly put his head down, resigned. The others, cowed, went quietly back to their repair efforts. No-Legs turned to say something else to Muzzle, but he had already slunk away.

Muzzle spent the rest of the day walking a perilous line between shame driving him into hiding and guilt urging him to help with the repairs. Even if he did continue to suck at them. He didn't talk to anyone and didn't take any conversation either. When the repairs were finally done and they sat down to dinner, late at night, he didn't show.

Some of the others looked around for him or exchanged meaningful glances, but nothing was said. After a minute Faith picked up a second strip of smoked Shaggon and stood up. A few of her bravors looked after her, but nobody said anything about this either, and nobody followed.

She found Muzzle perched on top of the Dieselnaught, leaning back on his hands. His single uncovered eye roved morosely over the misty horizon.

"Are you sure this is the safest place for you to be climbing right now?" said Faith, swinging up next to him. He started and looked to her nervously.

"Here," said Faith, holding out the second strip of smoked Shaggon. He reached for it dutifully, but there was visible hesitance in the motion.

"Ah." Faith shook him off even as his hand closed over the food. Smiling in glum understanding, she held out both strips of Shaggon this time.

"Pick one."

Usually she and her bravors didn't bother with this custom when sharing food, as they'd passed that rare point where they didn't worry too much about being poisoned. Muzzle seemed to appreciate it now, though; he reached for the same strip of Shaggon with more confidence this time. Still, he avoided Faith's eyes and took only a perfunctory nibble, watching her sideways.

"Don't look at me like that," sighed Faith. "I'm not angry with you."

Muzzle looked at her more openly now, but there was still a hurt, uneasy light in his one visible eye. Faith sighed again. First Spinjitzu Master help this poor sensitive fool. How the realm hadn't eaten him alive yet, she would never know.

"I'm really not," she said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not happy about today, but I'm not going to punish you for something you didn't mean to do." She shook her head, seeing that Muzzle was still hesitating. "And I really did tell you to shut up for your own good. I couldn't spell it out for you in front of everybody; if they thought I was standing up for you they'd just make fun of you even more."

Muzzle cocked his head, not understanding.

"And that's exactly what it is," continued Faith. "You can't let people see they're getting to you, Muzzle. That's what they want. The angrier you get, the more you encourage them."

"But I can't just stand there and take it," said Muzzle, speaking slowly in hopes Faith could pick up his meaning. She squinted for a moment, but did seem to patch together enough words to get the gist.

"Yes you can, though," she said. "Just don't react. Ignore them. Never let anyone see that they've found a way to hurt you, and that way you don't let them win. They'll stop doing it if you stop making it entertaining."

Muzzle chewed thoughtfully on his strip of Shaggon, considering this advice.

"What in the world are you filling his head with?" said a third voice suddenly. Faith and Muzzle both started, and turned to find old Redskull groping his way up on top of the Dieselnaught.

"Dear sands, old man," sputtered Faith. "What do you think you're doing up here?!"

"The same thing both of you are doing," said Redskull, gingerly scooching over. "Having a nice meal and enjoying the, ah, nice peaceful view." He turned his shrouded face this way and that affectatiously. "The serene nighttime desert, an elegant moonrise. Very pretty." After a moment he leaned closer and stage-whispered, "We do have a moon out tonight, right?"

Muzzle stifled a giggle inadvertently, while Faith gave up and dragged a hand down her face.

"Two of us should really not be up on this roof right now," she muttered to nobody in particular.

"What are you hiding up here for, Muzzle?" said Redskull, leaning back to talk past her. "You weren't at dinner. Are you still worried about crashing the rig?"

"It's more about the others," said Faith tiredly.

"Oh." Redskull chuckled. "I did hear some of that. Don't take that so hard, Muzzle."

"That's what I told him," said Faith.

"Not for the right reason, though," said Redskull. "You're partly right, they do want to get a reaction. But mostly they're just trying to make him feel better."

Muzzle raised an eyebrow, bewildered, while Faith scoffed.

"If they wanted him to feel better, they could act normally instead of tormenting him."

"That's what you did," retorted Redskull. "And who exactly was he afraid was angry at him?"

Faith opened her mouth, then closed it again, looking chagrined. Redskull resumed talking past her to Muzzle, who was listening curiously.

"I know you feel bad about crashing us, but the others are just trying to show you they're not holding it against you. They wouldn't be teasing you if they were really angry, would they? They're trying to get you to lighten up and not take it so hard."

"Is that what you say about all bullying?" said Faith sardonically.

"Ohhhh, I know, it's a fine line," sighed Redskull, waving impatiently. "And I won't argue with you, it's certainly not the kindest way of going about it. But cut them all some slack. It's the only way they know how to show that they care."

"Oh please," muttered Faith. "Do you want to go tell that to Jet Jack? You think she spends every waking hour harassing people because she cares about them? What do you think would happen to me if I let her think her mouthing off bothered me?"

"Ever considered that she might stop?" said Redskull.

"As if."

"That's exactly why you keep tangling your own chain," said Redskull sharply. "You assume everyone just wants to hurt you, you make a big show of not being hurt, and then everyone just believes you and doesn't think they need to stop. Now you're trying to drag Muzzle into the same trap as you!"

Muzzle flinched, appalled at Redskull's temerity. Faith only tilted her head in silence, sizing the old man up.

"You're very naive," she said at last, no hint of anger in her voice. Redskull started, then gave a frustrated laugh.

"You take your own advice," he said ruefully. He shook his head. "All right. Forget I said anything. Forgive my insolence, Chief."

"This time," said Faith coolly.

It was quiet for a moment.

"Does Jet Jack bother you?" ventured Muzzle.

"Of course not," said Faith. "I wouldn't put up with that."

Redskull turned his head away, but said nothing.

"She bothers everybody," said Muzzle carefully. "I think you're right. I think she knows it and that's why she does it. She wouldn't stop."

"You lost me there, Muzzle, I caught two words," said Faith wearily. She sighed, ruffled his hair through his cowl, and moved to slide off the edge of the Dieselnaught, turning to brace her toes on various handles and bolts. "Either way. You can listen to Redskull if you want. But if it gets your throat slit, don't come crying to me."

"That's both cold and underhanded, Faith," Redskull called after her, then turned to Muzzle. "I'm sorry, young one. We've only made you more confused, haven't we?"

Muzzle shrugged and made an ambivalent noise before following Faith down the side of the Dieselnaught.

"Damn you, be careful!" said Faith, starting as he missed a handhold and nearly fell past her, catching himself with a yelp. He chirred sheepishly, composed himself, and began to work his way down more carefully, using touch more than sight. Faith shook her head at him, then looked back up to the top of the Dieselnaught.

"Do you have any idea about how you're going to get down, old man?"

"Admittedly . . . no."

Faith groaned and gave Muzzle a weary "would you get a load of this guy?" look. Muzzle shrugged, his eye crinkling mischievously.

"Eh. Just leave him up there."

"Muzzle!" Faith smacked his arm reproachfully, although Redskull was laughing himself. Sighing, she began to climb back up to the top of the Dieselnaught, shooing Muzzle away when he tried to follow. "No, get out of here. I can't be dealing with two fall hazards."

"I should just leave you up here," she muttered, as she clambered back onto the roof. "Of all the bright ideas, Redskull. You're worse than us youngsters."

Sighing, she reached over to pull him to his feet. Instead of standing, however, he suddenly took her by the wrist.

"I know it was different for you, Faith," he said quietly.

Faith went still.

"I know you went through a lot more yourself," continued Redskull, his voice completely, quietly sober for the first time tonight. "I guess you have enough reason to expect that everyone only wants to hurt you. And I know part of that was due to my own ignorance; my own failure to do my job. I have no excuse for what happened to you, and I won't try to make one."

Faith said nothing. Her dark eye shivered closed, a shudder she didn't permit to reach completion.

"But don't drag Muzzle down with you," said Redskull. "It's different this time. His friends do love him, just as much as you do, and if they don't have the best way of showing it, at least let them try. You won't save him by convincing him to become cold."

Faith still said nothing, her breath coming a little heavier than it needed to. Redskull's hand drifted up to find her shoulder, then slid a few inches down to her collarbone, searching for her heartbeat. She was just a second slow to move; her hand rested atop his the barest instant before she gently pushed it aside. Brief enough he might not have registered either.

"You're a naive old man," she said quietly. "Leave the past in the past." She shook herself, forcefully moving them both along. "Right now, focus on saying your prayers."

"Oh. Are you going to kill me, Faith?" said Redskull, unperturbed.

"No, you miserable old man," said Faith. "But I can't fully promise I can get you down from this rig alive."

They were up early the next day, eager to make up for lost time. There was much scurrying around packing up camp. Luckily there was no need to devote time to funeral rites for Redskull—partly because the First Realm had no funeral rites, but also partly because he was again unscathed.

"Hey," whispered Jet Jack, sidling up to Muzzle. "We saw you talking to the Chief last night. What did she say? Did she tell you what she's gonna do to you?"

Muzzle sized her up for a moment, calculating, then shrugged.

"Oooh. That bad, huh?" said Jet Jack. Muzzle only said "hmph" and looked away.

"If she's gonna make you build a brig that falls in on you, does that mean I can have your house?" said Chew Toy.

Muzzle, hellbent on his course by now, put his head down and continued doggedly with his work.

"Huh," remarked Jet Jack, watching as he dragged off a box of tools. "Great. Faith's educated him in grumpiness and now he's mad at us."

In the meantime Muzzle missed his step climbing up the Dieselnaught's side ladder and pitched forwards.

"Good grief!" No-Legs reflexively snatched the back of his cowl, catching him just an instant before he succeeded in banging in face against the floor. "What are you doing, Muzzle."

"Now drop him," suggested Jet Jack. No-Legs rolled his eyes, hoisted Muzzle up easily, and plopped him back on his feet.

"Once more, but now with your head on straight," he said.

Muzzle, red-faced but silent, managed to clamber into the Dieselnaught without further risk of injury.

Once inside, he looked uneasily up towards the cab. The prospect of driving after all this did psych him out a bit. Still, he sighed, squared his shoulders, and started for the wheel.

"Ah!" Faith, just coming inside, caught at his shoulder. She shook her head at Muzzle's startled look. "I'll drive for now, all right?"

Muzzle faltered, but nodded and stepped aside to let her take the wheel. He had something of the look of a kicked puppy about him.

"Nothing against you," said Faith quietly as she passed him. "Just to be safe."

Muzzle nodded again, saying nothing. Faith felt a little selfish about her advice working in her own favor; Muzzle was working hard not to show he was hurt.

"Ohhhh, the misery," said No-Legs, as Muzzle settled in the back and Faith kicked the giant rig's engine into gear. "You have to ride with the rest of us instead of being the bigshot driver. The agony." When Muzzle didn't reply he shook a canister of knucklebones in his direction. "Game?"

Muzzle shrugged listlessly, but finally reached up for the canister. He had to fumble for that as well. For a second he looked inclined to swear, but then he only put his head down and tossed the carved bones out onto the floor.

Playing Knucklebones in a moving vehicle was a fool's proposition, since your results depended on which way the bones landed and every bump in the road changed your score. Still, in some circles that was considered an official variant of the game: the constant arguing about your true score counted as an expansion pack. Today it didn't seem to matter either way, though—Muzzle clearly wasn't counting.

"It's your turn," said Chew Toy, the fourth time Muzzle had needed reminding. He jumped and hastily cast the knucklebones, but even as the bones rolled to a halt he was glancing over his shoulder to the cab. He turned back to calculate his score and seemed to get lost in thought midway.

"Geez," said Jet Jack, impatient. After a moment she began to flip all of Muzzle's favorable bones to poor ones. He seemed entirely oblivious.

"Are you going to keep doing this the entire trip?" said No-Legs wearily. When Muzzle didn't respond he cuffed him lightly in the head. "Would you pull yourself together?"

Muzzle started, once again yanking out of a brown study. Even as he shook his head apologetically he was once again casting a glance back to the cab. The others exchanged weary looks.

"I've seen compasses less fixed in one direction," said Jet Jack. After a moment she sighed and reached over.

"It's the eyepatch, bigshot," she said, drawing the patch out tight and letting it snap back. Muzzle yelped in protest, but then considered and flipped the patch up onto his forehead, squinting. In the dim light inside the Dieselnaught his eye didn't hurt too badly. He looked around for a moment, then reached hesitantly for one of the knucklebones. His fingers closed over it perfectly on the first try.

"Ohhhhhhh . . . " he said, eyes widening. He looked around at the others, who were laughing at his revelation. "How did you figure that out?"

"Any flyer worth their rations knows you can't steer with one eye," said Jet Jack. "You can't tell how far away things are unless you have two."

"Wait. You mean you knew all along?" said No-Legs. "And you didn't say anything till now?"

"Hey, if I told him, he'd stop wearing the eyepatch," said Jet Jack. "And where'd we get our entertainment then?"

"I've been banging into things for three days!" said Muzzle indignantly.

"Yeahhhhhhh, well . . . "

"Wait." From up front Faith suddenly slammed the brakes so hard everyone was nearly thrown to the floor. "Hold up. You knew all along he wasn't safe to drive?!"

"Uhhh . . . " Jet Jack started, putting two and two together for the first time. "Uh-oh."

"That," said Faith ominously, "is one way of putting it."

"Ha." Muzzle, ignoring the brewing squabble between Faith and her first mate, thumped his fist on the floor to bounce the knucklebones back into a better layout. He tallied his score with a glance and swept the bones back into their canister, passing them along to No-Legs. The older Hunter gave him a fond smirk and nodded towards Jet Jack.

"Think we'll need that second brig after all?" he murmured.

"Eh." Muzzle smirked back. "Just so long as I'm not the one building it."

Prompt was "Teasing."