Sunday, September 25

I'm calling your bluff...

So..... the meeting with Brood. I don't know how he is outside of work, but he's a "cool customer" when he's on the job. He was conveniently busy when I tried to see him after I got Doc to his room. Avoiding me much? So like I said in my previous post, I spent the day trying to comfort Doc. That's a hell of a way to find out you're all alone in the world. Least he has all of us, though I'm sure it's small consolation.

I tried to get in to see Brood again Saturday morning, and he'd slipped out to go to some meeting with his boss, leaving Agent Z in charge. Ugh. I'd rather deal with Brood. Z's got this whole, "I've got a gun, so I can be as snide as I like" thing going on. At least Brood's just cold and evasive, not condescending. I've always believed that if you can't laugh at yourself, you don't deserve to laugh at anyone else.

Then around 9:30 a couple of the agents cornered "something" in the woods behind the garden oak (which miraculously survived the destruction of the garden) and started shooting. Whatever it was "got away." Probably lucky for them because I don't think Prosper or Roadrunner would have been impressed with bullets, and Brood would have been down two agents. I was not privy to the description, though the two of them had been bent over clipboards up until around noon, writing out their encounter. The bigger concern is that it could have been Trina or Tim or who knows... some unknown runner, looking for sanctuary. They can't just go shooting up the woods without knowing what they're shooting at!

Brood finally came back around one and complained of not even having had time for lunch when I tried to talk to him. So much for being on the same page in regards to setting each other straight.

So I made him lunch. Ha! Don't avoid the cook by complaining you haven't eaten.

When I appeared at his door, with food, I guess he figured he had to take the bad with the good. "Don't worry," I said when he looked from the soup and sandwich to my empty hands, "You eat; I'll talk." He scowled, but what could he do?

I won't bother to recreate the discussion here because frankly, that's a pain in the butt. Trying to remember everything said, exactly as it was said, adds another hour or so onto typing this out. So I deleted all the Me/Brood stuff, and I'm just going to tell you what happened.

So while Brood ate and looked unhappy (man probably has ulcers), I told him I understand his position, but we're not military and we're not government. He can't expect us to obey orders without question. Shady will stalk the perimeter, and if his people continue to be as trigger happy as they have been, they'll probably end up shooting Sunshine before long. We're people, and we've been bullied enough by outside forces that we don't need it from our own government. If instead of trying to herd cats, he'd talk to us, things would probably go a lot more smoothly than they have so far. I could see him relaxing as he ate. I'm pretty sure he expected a tongue-lashing.

Too bad for him, I wasn't done. He and his boss want something from us, and I told him they're not going to get it if they don't start treating us like people instead of a job. To that end, he's going to have to start treating me like an equal, especially in front of his men. He needs to start sharing information instead of demanding it or using it like a weapon. Before he confronts anyone else in the house with anything, he has to run it by me first. I don't want to see someone "escorted" to his room like that again. I want to be privy to any reports his people make about anything that goes on here or that concerns us; I want to know that our armed escorts are there for our protection, not to enforce some kind of martial law.

His response boiled down to- What do we get out of it?

I wonder what kind of poker player he is....

Anyway, I told him it should be obvious what's in it for them. They play nice, we play nice. They keep acting like assholes, and we clam up and don't give them anything. You know, it doesn't take a rocket scientist or even a student of psychology to realize that if you give respect, you get respect. Or maybe it does... the whole military intelligence meme. haha

(I kid... lighten up, Brood. Would it kill you to laugh?)

So it was kind of left at "I'll let you know what I think once I talk to my superiors." Which is... wow... just... way to make command decisions there, Brood. So they pay you to let them do your thinking for you? I mean, you could have at least agreed to the mutual respect thing if not the information sharing.

Bleh... hate dealing with "authority figures."

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