"Do you wanna know why I go by a fake name in this place?"
"Sure," Cayde replies. And he listens. The part of Cayde that knows a thing or three about being a ruthless bastard recognizes what he's being given here: collateral. This doesn't quite even the vulnerability scales, but it does make the part of Cayde's survival instinct that likes knowing where to stab feel a bit better about all this.
But, so does the rest of it. For whatever it's worth in the grand scheme of things, Cayde just likes this guy. He's got moxie. He was willing to swan in with those corporate goons to help out a mostly-stranger. There are far worse ways Cayde could feel right now about having somebody he just met this morning trying to fix his screwed up knee.
"Alright, Peter," he says. He uses that offered name. "If you think your little dinosaur hands have enough fingers to be up to the task, I'll take that leap of faith with you."
He's still planning to avoid this as much as possible. It's a mixture of hating debts and wounded pride more than a lack of faith, but Peter here strikes him as the kind of frustratingly do-good guy that wouldn't like that answer. Better to just keep it on the sly. Accept what's offered, be gracious, settle the debt, slide away and not incur anymore. Foolproof.
"You need me to do anything?" he asks as these thoughts slide casually into place.
no subject
"Sure," Cayde replies. And he listens. The part of Cayde that knows a thing or three about being a ruthless bastard recognizes what he's being given here: collateral. This doesn't quite even the vulnerability scales, but it does make the part of Cayde's survival instinct that likes knowing where to stab feel a bit better about all this.
But, so does the rest of it. For whatever it's worth in the grand scheme of things, Cayde just likes this guy. He's got moxie. He was willing to swan in with those corporate goons to help out a mostly-stranger. There are far worse ways Cayde could feel right now about having somebody he just met this morning trying to fix his screwed up knee.
"Alright, Peter," he says. He uses that offered name. "If you think your little dinosaur hands have enough fingers to be up to the task, I'll take that leap of faith with you."
He's still planning to avoid this as much as possible. It's a mixture of hating debts and wounded pride more than a lack of faith, but Peter here strikes him as the kind of frustratingly do-good guy that wouldn't like that answer. Better to just keep it on the sly. Accept what's offered, be gracious, settle the debt, slide away and not incur anymore. Foolproof.
"You need me to do anything?" he asks as these thoughts slide casually into place.