Xenotober 2024 11 Frye & Irina pt 5 (no prompt)

a/n: Sometimes you just have to shove people into the mech. Get in the robot, Frye!

By the middle of their flight, Frye was half hopeful that the evening would end early. Irina had blown up at him with good effect, releasing her pent-up anger and sorrow. He hadn't enjoyed being her target, but he could take the hit for a good cause. She was nodding beside him when they landed in the Administrative Sector. Maybe he could get someone to take her to her rooms, get her settled for the night. He could hoist her most of the way if that helped. Her hangover would be spectacular in the morning, wine mixed with beer mixed with whatever else she'd had, but it would no longer be today. The date attached to today was the worst part of what she was going through.

However, the deity that had guided the transport to them also sped it quickly to their destination, and Irina roused upon landing and lurched off the 'copter. "This way," she announced. "We'll take my skell."

"I was thinking we'd just hitch a ride," said Frye. "There's an away station right by the area and teams go there on the regular."

"Wish I had parked at the Repenta," said Irina, not stopping. "We could've gone directly there."

"The route to the away station works fine," protested Frye weakly. She wasn't listening.

"My skell," Irina said, weaving through an empty shopping alley. "I need my gear."

"Oh right," Frye muttered, trailing behind. He hadn't even thought of that. He'd gone on missions with BLADEs wearing much less practical gear than Irina's current outfit. Her soft sweater and casual trousers were practical compared to flip flops, swim trunks, and a tuxedo jacket. But that would never do for Irina Akulov. She was by the books, her armor well chosen, her weaponry even better. So the off duty look was never going to be acceptable for her. Frye tugged at his flak jacket. He should talk. He couldn't relax unless he was in full armor. "You get your gear and I'll check in with mission board."

"See you in the garage," she said.

When he caught up to her, she had her hand on the knee of a navy blue Verus, as sharp and fast and balanced as her normal self. He'd ducked into the barracks lounge, but unfortunately it was empty. No comic relief from Lin and Tatsu that Frye could use to distract Irina, no mustachioed voice of reason to bellow that they had better put a halt to this deeply stupid idea. He had resigned himself to Adventures with Akulov. But there was one more thing he had to do.

"Get in the skell," she said.

"No."

"You're the one that's hot for this mission."

"Hot or not, you're not driving."

"Excuse me?" she flared at him, silver fire and sharp nose. "This is my skell. I'm the pilot."

If she had whined or looked hurt, it would have been harder. Frye had a soft spot for disappointed soldiers. But she had snapped at him, and Frye was used to looking authority square in the eye and saying, "Nuts." He stood tall, then slouched in a crooked way. "You're drunk and I'm your driver. You can take a nap until we get there."

"I am not." She mimicked his pose and tilted, exactly as he expected. She grabbed onto the skell tighter. "You're drunk too."

"I'm barely damp," said Frye. He shoved a small red packet at her. "Sobriety augments. Take two and you'll be fine when we arrive."

"Bet you buy it in bulk," she snapped.

Frye didn't mind one last insult, since she also accepted the packet. "By the crate load," he said. "Now you hop into the jumpseat while I grab a thermos of coffee for later."

a/n: I do like these two, and we have at least three more chapters. (Narrator's voice: it will be more than that.)

Next up: Evening in Noctilum. Irina sobers up while Frye remains the same.