Park City Convo (private with Morgan)

After a long day of driving across the western United States, my crew of Legionaries and I had finally made it to Park City, Utah. Why Park City; and why Park City in the summer? Simple: a drakon was spotted in the slopes around there and the praetors felt like it was somehow a good idea to have me, a son if Securitas (goddess of security, not SWAT teams or dragon hunters), to lead a group of four to take it out.

That doesn't even sound good in my head, and it sounds no better on paper and worse in actual words.

But orders are orders, and after a whole afternoon of preparation, we made it to a Holiday Inn or something with only one (ONE!) altercation. I'm sure you're wondering what exactly it was, but I'd rather not mention it. I have my reasons.

But that was several hours ago, and now it's nearing zero dark thirty and I'm on guard duty for the Empire's grand encampment - AKA sitting outside of a hotel room occasionally looking at the elevator/stairs entrance down the carpeted, unsuspecting hallway, single earbud in with Kenny Chesney just loud enough to fight the urge to pass out right there. Luckily for me, I'm not the only one tasked with watch duty - per my orders as super awesome combat leader Dean Bailone "Fidelis" - as the not-so-passive daughter of Peace personified named Cameron Harper was stuck with me for the next hour or so. Great friend, great fighter, and a great Roman - the exact type of person I want picking up my slack.

I was on the door's left side and closer to the elevator; Cam was positioned closer to the window, sitting on the door's right. About a yard or so separated us, and that wasn't exactly the worst thing in the world. She still seemed pissed after what happened earlier - which you're still not gonna hear about from me - and I didn't exactly feel like getting on her bad side just yet. After all, ol' Cam is known for not taking grudges lightly, something I've witnessed firsthand. It was a pretty eye opening moment, but that's another tale for another time. But what matters now is that we were sitting outside of a hotel room, separated by a door's width, and had been silent for as long as we had been there.

Like I said before, getting on her bad side was something that wasn't in my best interests, and while breaking the silence might've broken our friendship, it also wasn't a good idea to let her emotions build up like some combination of bleach and some other obscure cleaning solution. So, hoping to avoid a big, gaseous explosion, I figured it would be best to just apologize for whatever about the incident got her so mad. Deeply exhaling the air I had inhaled moments ago, I rolled my head across the rough tan wallpaper and, with the most sincere voice I could muster up at the wee hours of the morning, said "Cam, I'm sorry." I was sure some variation of the pronoun game was about to start, but it would (hopefully) patch up and wounds caused by the incident.

She chortled sarcastically and let several moments pass before actually talking. "Sorry." She pulled her sleeve over her knife. "What are you playing at, Fidelis? You think this is still training or something?" Cam leaned forward on her elbows. Her hair colour looked particularly crude under the neon lights of the corridor. "We're out in the open here. Every mistake we make, every mistake you make, could be our last one. You're the leader, you can't afford bumbling around like a Thracian and getting all touchy with demons. I don't f#cking care if you're sorry. You and Phil are alive out of pure damn luck and you'd be an idiot to think otherwise."

As much as I hated to admit it, Cam was right. Had she and Spencer been mere seconds slower, neither of us would still be here. And it was my responsibility to carry the team, and courting girls I met a gas station like something from a corny music video wasn't exactly appropriate of me. I mean, sh*t, the praetors entrusted me to lead the mission, and here I am trying to make up for nearly ending the op early. It wasn't behavior of a leader, even a sorta-de facto one like myself.

"Oh no, you're right" I admitted, cranium still plastered to the wallpaper, "I f*cked up, and I'm sorry I f*cked up."

I f*cked up. I nearly let Phil and myself get killed, leading us into a trap that was probably just spontaneously set. I let that same kid disobey orders and go on the mission without packing a bag. I let Spencer run wild in a convince store buying ever piece of junk they had. Sh*t, I've been taking my eyes off the f*cking road to change songs this whole trip. What the actual f*ck is wrong with me?

The more I thought about it, the whole scenario I was in, it didn't add up. Securitas' kids aren't known for their leadership skills, nor was I some masterful fighter or anything. The whole thing seemed like some sick joke; "Hey, let's send the Securitas kid and his friends off on an op and see if they come back, wouldn't that be hilarious?!" I couldn't put my finger on why this should even be a thing! And the more I thought about it, the more f*cked up it felt!

After getting lost in my train of thought for about a minute or so, I let out a deep sigh and looked up at the cool fluorescent lights and shook my head, making the grave mistake of thinking out loud. "What the f*ck am I doing here? Like, what the f*ck am I doing here, leading you guys? What the f*ck about me made them want to make me a f*cking mission leader? Like, six f*cking years of sweet nothing and then 'hey, Dean, go lead a mission'. Like what the f*ck is up with f*cking FUBAR sh*t? What do they see in me that I can't?! Why the f*ck did they have ME lead this f*cking mission; I'm a f*cking loser! I'm not some f*cking son of Jupiter or something, and I don't have any particularly awesome combat skills, so why the f*ck am I-"

"Wow, okay, I'm gonna stop the pity party right there before you start questioning life and the grand scheme of the universe," Cameron jumped in, putting her hands up. Her eyes flashed with annoyance. "Listen. If you're still apologizing, you're missing the point. This is not the time or place to be sorry, so pour yourself a nice cup of get a goddamn grip and move on. You're the leader, it's about time you start acting like it. And if you expect me to cheer you up and give you a little pat on the back, I hope you packed breakfast cause it's gonna be a while."

OOC:

"Right..." Cam had a point, and a damn well agreeable one at that. Complaining about the situation wasn't going to make anything better, nor was it appropriate. Right now, the best thing I can do is accept that I fu*ked up and move on. No words, no more apologizes; just accepting, learning, and moving on.

I let a few minutes pass before changing the topic, glancing down at my watch while debating over the next topic. "So... Yeah... What do you think about the plan I had for tomorrow? You didn't seem too talkative back when I brought it up."

OOC/Plan:

Cameron sighed softly, tuning her thoughts back to the concrete plan of their mission. "It looks rather good. I'm not a fan of staying put and you know that, but I may do less damage here than there." The daughter of Pax picked at the hole on the knee of her jeans. She knew she couldn't really resist getting into fights and it was wiser to do so against random mortals than an actual man-eating drakon. "I'm gonna take Phil for a look around town, just in case. We might learn one or two things, and having a feel of the surroundings can't hurt."